#rattypeter

She wasn’t one to take ages getting ready. Her hair was better a day or two after a wash anyway and her outfit was quick and easy to throw on. It meant she was in the common room earlier than most, sat on the arm of one of the sofas, chewing on the edge of her thumbnail. She felt nervous, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. Yes, it was a little strange and intimidating that she had a date with Peter Pettigrew. An older man, as her brother had teased her when she met with her siblings in Hogsmeade over the weekend. One of the infamous Marauders.

The cards had told her it was right. They had said yes. She must just feel nervous because it was rather public for a first date and, well, because it felt pretty serious to see that Wheel of Fortune card in Peter’s hand. Not only did it mean yes in matters of the heart but it meant change, it meant fate. It meant so many possibilities and Brie was enamoured by the idea.

She looked up every time somebody descended the boys’ staircase and remained on her perch as the room filled up with excitable students and pre-drinks. Finally, it was the boy she had been waiting for who appeared and she beckoned him over with a wave and a “Hi.” She stumbled a little as she stood up too quickly for the heels on her feet and her cheeks went pink but she felt a buzz of excitement now he was there.

Fingers lightly touched the bruises on his face, the way that his eye felt so swollen, practically pulsating whenever he would attempt to blink. Mulciber managed to do a number on him but Sirius was sure he made his own mark. But the anger never went away. It didn’t die as much as he wanted it to. All of the anger within him couldn’t be calmed by throwing punches, it couldn’t be fixed with violence. But at this point, Sirius didn’t know what would. What would fix the anger he could never run from, the explosive temper a trait that would be permanently apart of him like the last name everyone judges him on? A litter of discarded cigarette butts laid in the dirt next to him, he’ll vanish them until he was finished, but until then the litter would stay. 

The worst highlights of the past couple of days, weeks even, keep replaying in his mind. Making his hands shake and his stomach boil as if it were filled with something other than acid. Talking about it wasn’t an option for him. Any time he’d open his mouth, something ugly would come out. His mind replayed the way that Mary flinched at his anger, at the way he had yelled at her. Peter’s presence didn’t go unnoticed but Sirius didn’t look at him as the other boy approached. “D’you remember when you said I could have left? Fucked off to America or something? I’m starting to think that maybe I should have. If I left, maybe, this could have been prevented.” Self-hatred ran through him like ice, because even though they were all saying Peter was the one who did it, that Peter cast the Dark Mark, it was Black who recruited. It was Black who corrupted him. 

They were free.

Remus had been pretty certain they would have to be set free, just as he had told those who had tried to question him. The logical part of him had known that. The louder part of his brain, though -- the part that caused his blood to rush to his head and anxiety to course his veins -- had fretted that it would never happen. That they would continued to be set up for something none of them would ever do, until the Ministry discovered all their secrets. Remus’ big one would come out 23rd January. He would be subject to harsher questioning, the rights to werewolves so much less and suspicions against him no doubt raised once they knew he was intrinsically Dark.

Remus had been brought up first, apparently still seen as the lesser threat of the four of them, despite the fact that Fleamont Potter had managed to confirm they were all allowed to go. He wasn’t coping too well with waiting on his own.

“Pete--” he darted forwards as soon as his friend appeared. They had only been able to briefly see each other before. “It’s over. Are you okay? I’m so sorry. Fuck. It’s over.”

At some point, it had become habit that whenever they had homework that involved reading, Remus would read it out loud. He sat on Peter’s bed, A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration open on his lap as he went through the chapter on conjuring complex objects, made of multiple materials. “...Common errors with complex Conjuration are: conjuring only a frame of the object, rather than the whole; conjuring the object in only one material, such as a chair with wooden cushions; and failing to conjure the object to the correct scale. To master this, the caster must focus on the space they wish the object to fill and fully visualise the object.” He paused for a break, both because it was good to have some time to process the information and because his throat felt a little scratchy. The Transfiguration NEWT students had mastered some simple Conjurations already, such as the glass Remus made appear in his hand, and the water which flowed from his wand into it. “You still with me?” he checked, giving Peter a nudge. “She’ll make us do an essay on this next week.”