It was raining.
That wasn't unusual in London - even in the summer - but it caught Remus' attention because it seemed so fitting. The drizzly gray sky reflected his rapidly souring disposition, and just as the rain gave no indication of stopping any time soon, his frustration and moodiness appeared prepared to hold on forever.
And Mr. Pracket wasn't helping.
The owner of the bookstore was glaring at Remus as the young wizard tried his best to organize yet another shelf of books. A new shipment had come in earlier in the week, all the books needed to be added to the shelves, and Remus clearly wasn't working fast enough for his boss.
Remus supposed that he couldn't really blame Mr. Pracket for being annoyed. Remus should have been working more efficiently, but the argument with James still weighed heavily on him, and it preoccupied most of his thoughts and interfered with his ability to work competently. Even now, under his boss' stern gaze, Remus found his thoughts wandering.
"Lupin, pay attention to what you are doing!" Mr. Pracket snapped, snatching a book off the shelf. "Do you really think this book belongs here?"
Remus stared at the book. "Um…"
"It's fiction, Lupin, as it clearly states on the cover. And what section are you in?"
Remus glanced at the shelves around him, then said guiltily, "Poetry."
"And does fiction prose go in the poetry section?" Mr. Pracket demanded. He didn't wait for Remus to reply - and Remus wasn't entirely sure if it was a rhetorical question, anyway - but instead spun on his heel and stalked towards the appropriate section.
Remus sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry," he whispered although his boss had moved too far away to hear the apology. And it wasn't as though apology would have mattered anyway; his boss was not the forgiving type.
He glanced towards the window and watched as the rain splattered against the glass and dripped in rivulets down towards the sidewalk.
His next transformation was in two weeks. In two weeks, he would be at St. Mungo's under the care of people who thought of him as a monster, a beast that didn't deserve even basic amenities.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had met some Healers who didn't seem to think of him in that way. On a few occasions, when he was younger, he would wake up after a transformation at St. Mungo's and find himself wrapped in bandages and being force-fed pain-reliving potions by Healers who would coddle him until he had recovered. They saw him as a poor boy who had been cursed.
But they were the exception, not the rule.
"Lupin! Stop daydreaming and get back to work."
Remus jolted at Mr. Pracket's sharp voice, and forced away his dreary thoughts. "Sorry, sir," he said, loud enough this time to be heard.
Mr. Pracket snorted in reply, glared at Remus once more, and stomped away.
At least, Remus reflected bitterly, he wasn't the only one Mr. Pracket treated so poorly. Every time his shift overlapped with that of the other employees, he was privy to scenes of Mr. Pracket yelling at them as well.
"Huh. There are so many things in your life that I don't like."
Remus started at the sound of James' voice and spun around, wondering how his friend had managed to enter the bookstore and sneak up on him. He doubted James had used his invisibility cloak to do it because someone would have noticed the door opening and closing on its own and a young man appearing out of thin air.
But then, he probably hadn't needed to do anything quite so drastic. Given how distracted Remus had been, it wouldn't have been much of a challenge to surprise him. James only needed to walk quietly.
"Mr. Pracket isn't so bad," Remus replied, shaking his head and trying not to act too surprised that James was here, speaking to him.
James rolled his eyes. "Right," he drawled, "and I'm a Hufflepuff."
"You would have made a good Hufflepuff," Remus said, biting back a smirk when James glowered at him in protest. Then he glanced worriedly at Mr. Pracket and said, "I'm not sure this is the best time to chat."
James frowned. "The man is a git."
Remus shrugged. "It's a decent paying job," he said. "What more could I ask for?"
"Can't you look for a job where you're actually treated with respect?" James retorted, his features clouding with annoyance.
Remus chewed his lip and looked down at the box of books at his feet, the one he was supposed to be sorting and organizing and shelving. The job actually paid well - better than any other job he head seen. He just wasn't qualified for much in the Muggle world, and the magical one was out of the question, so he had to settle for what he could get.
Part of the reason Mr. Pracket could get away with treating his employees so horribly was because he paid them well enough to keep them on despite the verbal abuse.
Not, of course, that this was something James would ever really understand. Financial concerns meant nothing to someone who never had to worry about them.
James seemed to sense that Remus didn't want to talk about his job, so he cleared his throat and said, "Look, I won't take up too much of your time since I don't actually want to get you in more trouble with your boss. I just wanted to apologize."
Remus' eyebrows rose towards his hairline. Apologize? That was unexpected.
"I'm never going to be alright with you going to St. Mungo's," James continued, running a hand through his hair and messing it up. "They treat you like filth, and I'm never going to be alright with you acting as though you don't deserve better than that. But you're my friend, and if this is what you want to do, then I will at least accept that it is your decision."
"Thanks," Remus said quietly, surprised by how much that simple statement meant to him.
"But you have to promise me that you won't let anything Evans said about werewolves being monsters change how you think about yourself," James continued.
Remus didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure he could make that promise to James because - even if he didn't want to admit it to himself and certainly didn't want to admit it to any of them - Lily's words had made him wonder if he was a monster deep down. After all, he had spent the day after every full moon laughing off close calls and his friends' injuries, somehow deluding himself into believing that it wasn't a big deal, that running through the Forbidden Forest or Hogsmeade wasn't really that dangerous, that no one was going to get hurt.
What kind of person did that?
How could he think about all of those near misses and his own irresponsible behavior and not come to the conclusion that Lily had been right in her disgust?
But then, maybe James already knew how he felt.
"Moony?" James prompted.
Remus picked up one of the books. "I have to get back to work," he said quietly.
James reached out and put a hand on his arm. "I'm not going to just drop the subject," he said firmly.
Remus grinned. "I didn't for even a second believe that you would," he said with a light laugh. "You're not exactly known for giving up on things, even when you're wrong."
"Did you just call me stubborn?" James demanded in mock outrage.
"Actually, I was implying something more along the lines of pigheaded."
James' eyes were twinkling with laughter even as he struggled to keep a frown on his features. "You take that back," he threatened.
Remus opened his mouth to reply, but then caught sight of Mr. Pracket looking towards him again. He quickly schooled his expression back into one of the utmost concentration and looked down at the box of books once more.
"James…"
James wrinkled his nose, but said, "I know, I know. You need to get back to work. He's still a prat."
"It's fine, Prongs," Remus said, shaking his head.
James nodded reluctantly, clearly not thrilled with the thought of leaving his friend. But Mr. Pracket was drawing closer, and James staying would only get Remus into even more trouble, so he turned his steps towards the door.
It was still raining.
Sirius narrowed his eyes as Peter walked nervously down the street. He felt slightly guilty about tailing his friend like this, but Peter had been acting odd - shifty, even - and Sirius wanted answers. When he'd tried to broach the topic with Peter the day before, the other wizard had just shrugged it off, denying that anything was wrong.
But he hadn't been able to meet Sirius' eyes.
So now Sirius was following him, desperately trying to convince himself that there was nothing really wrong with spying on one of his closest friends.
Any doubts he might have had about the plan, however, vanished the moment he saw Peter approach Marcus Avery and another wizard that Sirius vaguely recognized as a Slytherin a couple years ahead of him at Hogwarts.
Peter looked scared - even from a distance, Sirius could tell that much. His first instinct was to rush forward in defense of his friend, but he hesitated. Peter might look scared, but he was still walking forward with determination. It was his choice to be there; he was the one seeking out the other two wizards.
But why?
Sirius crept closer, hugging the shadows and trying to hear the conversation, but the three of them were standing out in the open, and there was no way he could get close enough to hear anything without being seen.
He debated sneaking forward in his Animagus form, but Peter would immediately recognize him, and if the fourth Marauder was attempting to hide the topic of this apparently clandestine meeting, he would stop talking the moment Sirius got close enough to hear anything.
Sirius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He really wished he had James' invisibility cloak.
But he didn't, so he grumbled sourly under his breath and contented himself with watching from a distance.
As soon as Peter was alone, he and Sirius were going to have a little chat.
"You were following me?" Peter demanded, sounding offended. It was the third time he had repeated that question.
"Yes, Wormtail," Sirius answered once again, spitting the words through clenched teeth. "So why don't you tell us what the bloody hell were you doing talking to Avery?"
"How could you spy on me?" Peter asked, his voice high-pitched and nervous.
"Padfoot," James cut in quickly before Sirius could answer the question, "calm down. I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation for all of this."
He had returned home after his conversation with Remus, and had been startled to find Sirius and Peter waiting for him. Mr. Potter had let them into the house and allowed them to wait in the large living room, and it was clear that James had walked into the middle of a vicious argument. But all it had taken was thirty seconds of listening, and he felt as though he understood fairly well what was going on.
His two friends seemed to be talking in circles, each repeating their lines over and over. But Sirius was growing more irate and Peter was drawing in on himself, and James figured now was a good time to intervene.
"There'd better be a good explanation," Sirius snapped.
James turned to Peter. "Why were you talking to Avery?" he asked calmly.
"It was nothing," Peter squeaked. "Really. I just… ran into him and we exchanged insults. That's all."
"That's a lie," Sirius growled. "I saw you approach him. You sought him out. You talked for a few minutes, and it was more than just insults. Why?"
Peter flinched and folded his arms over his chest, hugging himself tightly.
"Padfoot," James said again, a clear warning in his tone. Sirius glared at him, but held his hands up in a sign of surrender and backed away.
"Fine," he muttered. "Fine."
"Peter," James said, "just tell us. Look, if Avery is threatening you or something, we can take care of it. We can take care of him."
"How?" Peter asked sharply. He paused, then let out a long breath and said, "This isn't Hogwarts. You can't just hex him and assume that will take care of everything."
James groaned inwardly but kept his expression impassive. He knew this wasn't Hogwarts - that particular bit of information had been beaten into his head several times in the past few days. But Peter had clearly gotten himself involved in something, and James wasn't about to stand by and do nothing.
Sirius, on the other hand, bared his teeth and said, "Want to bet on that?"
James frowned at his friend. "Sirius!" he admonished again even as Peter backed away from both of them with a scared look on his features.
Sirius spun around to face James and snarled, "Avery and that other Slytherin start showing an interest in Peter just a couple weeks after you hear Malfoy planning to tear you down and drag me back to my family." He spat the last word venomously, looking both furious and revolted. "Do you really think those two things aren't related?"
And then James understood.
Sirius could be calm and level-headed on occasion. In fact, there were times when he surprised everyone by being more mature than James or Peter. But there was one topic that still got under his skin, one topic that could push all of his buttons and send him into a rage that even James couldn't always talk him out of.
Malfoy was trying to force Sirius to rejoin his family.
Avery was pulling Peter into some plot.
And Regulus had not actually denied being involved in whatever this plot was. Regulus was one of the few remaining Blacks who still understood Sirius, and still knew how to get to him. And he let others pressure him into doing what they wanted him to do, didn't stand up for himself, went with the crowd merely because it was expected.
"I'm sure Regulus doesn't know about this," James said quietly.
Sirius laughed bitterly and didn't answer.
But Peter did. "He does, actually."
"What?" Sirius practically exploded.
Peter cringed and took another involuntary step backwards, away from Sirius.
"Sirius, calm down," James said, reprimanding his friend yet again. "Just calm down."
"Don't," Sirius snarled. "Just… don't. Don't act like you have any idea…" He stopped, abruptly trailing off, and turned away from James once more.
James stared at him, at a loss. He knew perfectly well what Sirius had started to say - that James didn't know what it was like to be from that kind of family. And that was true. James had no idea what it was like to be anything other than supported and loved and adored by his parents.
Sirius' shoulders were stiff with tension and pent up anger, and James sighed.
"Peter," he said, forcing his thoughts back to the topic at hand, "why was Avery talking to you?"
Peter swallowed nervously, and squeaked out an apologetic response, "He wanted to know why Shaw wouldn't let you play for the team."
James narrowed his eyes. "How did he even know about that?" he demanded furiously.
Peter shrugged - a quick, jerky movement. "I don't… I think the other Slytherin told him. Uh… Morrison? I think that is his name."
"Morrison?" James repeated.
Peter stared at the ground miserably. "He was a few years ahead of us. Played for Slytherin. Chaser." He chanced a quick look at Sirius, but the other wizard still wasn't looking at him. Peter blinked a few times, then said, "He was the one with Avery today."
James, too, looked at Sirius, and Sirius finally turned around and gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, that sounds right," he said, his voice low and venomous. "I knew I recognized the wizard with Avery."
"How did Morrison know any of what happened with Shaw and I?" James asked, confused. He didn't bother asking why Morrison would do something like this - that much was obvious. He was a Slytherin, and there was no doubt in James' mind that the House ties and his desire to get revenge for not making the Wasps would be enough incentive for Morrison to work with Avery.
"Does it matter?" Sirius asked coldly. "He knew, he told Avery. End of story."
James accepted this in thoughtful silence, then looked over at Peter. "What did you tell Avery?"
Peter wouldn't meet James' gaze as he answered in a barely audible tone, "I told him you had an off day and snapped at the other players. Because you got into a fight with us."
"You told him?" Sirius snapped incredulously. "You actually told him?" He took a threatening step towards Peter. "Did you tell him about the argument, too? Did you tell him that Remus is a werewolf?"
"What? No. No, of course not!" Peter retorted defensively, sounding horrified and upset that Sirius would even consider that possibility. "I just said the argument was with all of us. And it was… kind of."
"But why did you tell him anything at all?" James asked. "Why didn't you just ignore him? Or come to us? Why would you ever betray us like this?"
"I didn't have a choice!" Peter said, desperately pleading.
Sirius snorted derisively. "Of course you had a choice," he said. "You just made the wrong one."
"What did he threaten you with?" James asked harshly, feeling his own temper start to flare. While he had gladly defended Peter from Sirius' anger before, it had been primarily because he believed that anger to be misplaced. He had assumed it was all a misunderstanding, hadn't honestly believed that Peter would give in to whatever Avery had wanted.
He hadn't expected to be wrong.
The bitter disillusionment he felt was growing, turning to acid in his stomach.
"He said he'd burn down my dad's shop," Peter admitted reluctantly. "He and Bellatrix Lestrange…"
"Oh, so cousin Bella is involved?" Sirius growled. "Wonderful."
"The shop means everything to my dad," Peter said frantically, appealing to James. "I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't… I had to protect… please, James, you have to believe that I…"
"Why didn't you tell us what was going on?" James interrupted. "We could have protected you. We could have protected your father."
"How?" Peter retorted. "How? You can't stand guard around his shop every hour of every day forever!"
"We could have reported it to… to the Ministry," James said.
"And said what?" Peter asked, his voice practically cracking with emotion. "We don't have proof. All we have is my word, and Avery would deny it, and who do you think the Ministry is going to believe? A half-blood or an Avery and a Lestrange?"
"So you told Avery that there was a rift in the group," Sirius said icily, "even though you knew he was going to use it against us? Against James and I?"
Peter dropped his gaze to the ground again and didn't answer. The silence that fell between the three wizards was tense and thick.
"What did Avery say about Regulus?" Sirius asked finally.
Peter shook his head and scuffed at the floor with the toe of his shoe. "Not much. Just… after I told him that we'd fought… he said Regulus would be pleased to know… and something about Regulus being involved."
"What specifically did he say? How is Regulus involved?" Sirius repeated dangerously, stepping forward until he was directly in front of Peter. He loomed over the smaller boy, glaring down at him with a mixture of anger and disgust.
"I don't know," Peter practically sobbed. "I don't remember. It was just… maybe something about getting Regulus involved? I don't… I don't know."
Sirius looked about ready to punch Peter, so James grabbed his arm and forcefully dragged him backwards. Peter was looking at the floor again, his shoulders hunched.
"You should go," James said quietly, and Peter started in surprise and looked about ready to protest. James ignored that, and continued, "Sirius and I will figure out what to do about Avery, and you will tell us if he contacts you again. But for now… just go."
Peter practically bolted from the room.
"Pity we can't just beat the information about of Avery," Sirius said a moment after Peter had left. "Figure out all his plans that way."
"I doubt that will work," James said, though he couldn't deny that he was tempted by the idea.
"Don't know what else to do. Avery isn't going to tell us anything," Sirius said, shaking his head.
"True," James said with a frown. "Maybe Morrison is a better bet. Doesn't sound like he is as involved in this as Avery, so maybe he'd be more willing to…"
"Morrison isn't going to tell you anything," Sirius interrupted pointedly.
"No," James agreed thoughtfully, a conspiratorial grin forming on his features, "he's not going to tell me. But I know someone who is quite adept at charming information out of anyone. And I'm willing to bet anything that he'll tell her."
It was raining.
Peter scowled as he walked down the road, away from the Potter's home. James and Sirius just didn't understand what it was like to be less than perfect. They were able to do anything. James' parents were old, true - but they were also Potters, and that made them almost untouchable. Sirius didn't care at all about his family, except for maybe Regulus, and he was perfectly able to do everything on his own. But Peter didn't have that. He wasn't brave and he wasn't strong, but he did care about his father, and he couldn't do nothing while Avery threatened the one thing that made his father happy.
And what would happen if James and Sirius decided to confront Avery? What would Avery do to his father's shop then?
As if on cue, a voice said softly, "Fancy a little chat with your friends, did you?" and Peter nearly jumped out of his skin.
He spun around and found himself staring into the cold black eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange. She raised an eyebrow at him, lips curving into a smirk. "What's the matter, ickle Petey?" she cooed. "Surprised to see me?" She sidled up to him and continued in a whisper, "Didn't think we were keeping an eye on you, did you Petey?"
"You're following me?" Peter demanded, feeling the strangest sense of déjà vu. Wasn't think how his conversation with James and Sirius had started?
"Oh, not all the time," Bellatrix said with a cruel laugh. "Just enough to know that you aren't going to go running to Potter and dear cousin Sirius for help." Her eyes flicked past Peter towards the distant Potter home that was now fading into the gray mist. "Did you enjoy your chat?"
"I told you what you wanted to know," Peter said desperately. "I told you why James and Shaw argued. What more do you want from me?"
Bellatrix reached out and rested a hand on his arm. "What did you tell your little friends?" she asked.
"N-nothing," Peter stammered.
"You're lying," Bellatrix said in a sing-song voice. "Liar, liar…"
"I'm… I'm not…" Peter stammered, but he'd never been good at lying, and he couldn't hold Bellatrix's gaze for more than a moment. He looked away, frantically searching for something to say, some way to regain control of the situation.
"You told them, didn't you?" Bellatrix hissed, her voice twisting in anger. "I thought we had an understanding?" And her grip on his arm grew tighter, her fingers biting into his skin.
"I… I…"
She dropped his arm. "Well… perhaps we can work with this," she said, the anger disappearing almost immediately, replaced once more with her smirk. "You are not going to tell your friends about this meeting," she ordered. "Let them continue thinking they have the upper hand. Let them continue thinking they can actually win."
"I'm not going to keep lying to them," Peter protested.
"You know," she said softly, dangerously, "it would be a pity if your father's shop burned to the ground." She leaned forward, eyes glittering. "It would be even more of a pity if he was trapped in it when it burned down."
"You… you wouldn't…" Peter stammered, horrified by the threat.
Bellatrix flashed him a smile. "I quite enjoyed this little talk," she said, then she turned on the spot and disappeared.
Peter closed his eyes and tried to force back the feeling of helplessness growing inside him.
What was he supposed to do now?
He continued walking along the road, feeling damp and miserable and so very alone.
It was still raining.