Title: Coffee Klatch
Author: Magic of Isis
Rating: PG/PG-13
Notes: Written for Saeva's Gen Ficathon for
The short balding man stood on the edge of the clearing, obscured by the low-hanging branches of a birch tree and the hazy mist that hung in the air. The dreariness of the day was fitting for the occasion, he thought. He watched in sadness as the elders lowered the casket of his mother into a newly dug grave. She had loved this part of her property � and it seemed fitting for her to return to the earth surrounded by the woods and the forest creatures that she had come to know so well. How much the man regretted being unable to be a part of the burial service...
Actually, his list of regrets was mind-boggling. But atop the list had to be the severe disappointment and sadness he had brought into his mother�s life. She had been so proud of him when he�d passed his NEWTs (with the help of his good friends) and he had exaggerated the importance of his position at the local greenhouse so that she would be able to impress her friends. He couldn�t even remember anymore how things had spiraled out of his control after that. His memories were jumbled into one big nightmare, and the only thing that stood out to him was knowledge of the horror his mother must have experienced when she received his finger in box, "proving" his untimely death. He knew that horror had been revisited fourteen years later, when an interview of the Potter boy appeared in the Daily Prophet, which not only declared him very much alive, but also named him as a pivotal figure in the Dark Lord's return to power.
Well, there was nothing to be gained by dwelling on the past. Peter was a master of denial, having honed the skill to a fine art for most of his miserable life. He peered between the branches of the tree, squinting as he tried to recognize the faces of the twenty-odd witches and wizards who had gathered there. Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the McGoverns, Rhonda Slade... and there, the solicitor, Ian Ashcroft. Peter watched them curiously as they gathered after the burial. They comforted one another over the loss of their friend � Peter longed to be comforted as well, but he couldn�t risk it. There was a cloaked wizard who refused to remove his hood, although he was animatedly conversing with the others. It was all too possible that he was a spy for the Death Eaters. Peter couldn�t risk being discovered.
He watched them Disapparate, one by one. Finally, there was no one remaining but Ashcroft. Disguised as a rat, Peter followed the solicitor back to his mother�s home and watched as he unlocked the door, surveyed the premises to ensure their security, left a pile of papers on the dining room table, and locked up once more. A few minutes later, he, too, Disapparated.
Peter had sent an owl to Ashcroft earlier that day, staking his claim for his inheritance, yet indicating he would not be making his whereabouts known until sometime well into the future. Peter had hired him to keep an eye on the estate in his absence. Even though he was devastated by the loss of his mother, Peter was anxious to get his hands on some of the gold he knew she had tucked away in the house �for emergencies.�
When he saw no more activity at the house for the next twenty minutes, Peter crawled in through the rat-sized hole in the foundation and made his way into the kitchen. After he transformed back into a man, he took a good look around. He had not been in the house for many, many years, but it appeared that very little had changed.
Peter glanced out of the window � the weather had begun to clear, and afternoon sunshine was peeking through the curtains every so often. He opened the curtain further so that he wouldn't have to resort to magical light in order to read through the stack of documents the solicitor had left behind for him. He settled himself down at the dining room table and began to read.
Engrossed in his papers, Peter did not notice the other man until a shadow blocked the sunlight from the window. He jumped, grabbing for his wand, but the man was too quick and snatched it before Peter ever had a chance. Peter shook with fear as he felt the tip of a wand pressed gently against the back of his neck. He sniffed.
"Remus?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes, Peter, it's me." Remus lowered the wand, although he kept it trained in Peter's direction. "I saw you hiding earlier at the burial and I thought you might still be here. I hope you don't mind that I let myself in � I was worried I might scare you off." Remus sat down across from Peter, his wand still pointed in Peter's direction, but appearing much less threatening now. "I'm sorry about your mum. She was a great lady � always very kind to me."
Peter's heart began to settle down as he realized it was not a Death Eater about to kill him, but his childhood friend. Not that Remus hadn't threatened to kill him on more than one occasion� But with the events that had taken place over the last two years, he rated his chances much better with Remus than with any one of his fellow Death Eaters.
"Forgive me, Remus, but obviously I wasn't expecting company. Let me see if there isn't some tea in the house that I can offer you." Peter sprang to his feet, anxious to play the hospitable host so that Remus would stay calm and (hopefully) forget about the many 'errors in judgment' he had made. He rummaged through his mother's pantry, but could find only coffee. "Is coffee okay?" he called to Remus.
Remus nodded. "Yes, that would be lovely." Peter noticed that, although Remus looked relaxed, he continued to clutch his wand, and his eyes were ever watchful in Peter's direction.
Peter went about the business of trying to make coffee without his wand, suspecting that Remus was aware of his predicament by the amused expression on his face. Without warning, Remus waved his wand, and the coffee started to boil. Peter quickly poured the steaming liquid into his mother's � now his � china cups.
His hands were shaking as he set down the cup in front of his one-time friend. Peter didn�t dare transform into a rat � Remus would be able to tell he was going to do it � so he was quite vulnerable indeed. Not that many years ago, Remus and Sirius had gone so far as to bid him goodbye before killing him, and if James's son hadn't stepped in to save him�.
Remus, though, did not seem to be of a vindictive mind. He was � if not kind � at least civil while they talked. At first they spoke about Peter's mother. Remus had been the only one of his friends to keep in touch with her after it was presumed that Sirius had killed Peter. He had been quite fond of her, and she of him. Although Peter tried to steer the conversation clear of their Hogwarts days, Remus seemed to be dwelling on them. "The best years of my life" was how he described that time.
"I don't know, Remus," Peter responded, refilling their cups. "You were always much nicer to me than Sirius and James were. They took delight in embarrassing me, and they did it all the time."
Remus eyed him in surprise. "We didn't think you minded. You never told them to stop. And, if you recall, I often participated in their little pranks on you, so I'm as much to blame."
Peter said, "No, Remus, you always acted differently when you were around them. When it was just the two of us, we got on fine. I�I think we could have been better friends if they hadn't been around."
"Or," laughed Remus, "I might have eaten you for dinner. I'm a werewolf, after all, and without Prongs and Padfoot to control me, I might very well have included you among my victims."
They chatted quietly, two old friends reminiscing about their school days over coffee, without so much as a nod to the horrors that had taken place in their lives and in the Wizarding world since then. But even unsaid, those events stood as a wall looming large between them and threatening to break the easy rapport they were beginning to develop.
"Thank you, Wormtail," said Remus from out of the blue. "I know what you did for Harry at the end of the war undoubtedly saved his life." Peter knew Remus had been told of the astonishingly stupid, yet noble risk he'd taken by replacing Voldemort's wand with a realistic-looking fake wand he'd picked up at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Although Voldemort had been fully capable of wandless magic, the shock of having his Avada Kedavra spell turn his wand into a rubber haddock gave Harry all the time he needed to cast a killing curse at Voldemort, defeating him once and for all.
Peter glanced around uncomfortably. "It turned out all right in the end, didn't it?"
"You did right by Harry, just as Dumbledore always thought you would," Remus answered. "That's one wizard's debt paid in full."
Peter let out an audible sigh of relief. The debt was paid in full � Remus said so. Once the other former Death Eaters were rounded up, he'd be able to come out of hiding, and he and Remus could be friends once more. This time, though, there would be no James or Sirius or Dark Lord to come between them. They could forge a new relationship based on their mutual need for companionship. Peter was so isolated, and he was sure Remus must feel the same way, being a werewolf and all.
Peter smiled as Remus mirthfully recounted some of the funnier pranks they had pulled on Severus Snape, and that time Peter accidentally handed in some notes they had made while working on the Marauder's Map instead of his Charms homework. Professor Flitwick had given him high marks, thinking he'd been doing extra credit research on enchantments. Peter chuckled as he recalled that it was the highest mark he received in Charms all year.
They finished their third cups of coffee just as the sun was disappearing under the treetops. "I'm sorry, Remus," Peter said. "I can't stay here once it gets dark. I'm still in hiding until�they�er�for a while." Peter still needed some time to look for his mother's hidden gold, and it wouldn't be long before a light was necessary in order to search the place.
"I understand." Remus patted his friend's arm in a reassuring manner.
The two men stood up from the table and carried their dishes to the sink. Peter asked, "Remus, do you still have my wand? I need to clean up."
Remus checked his pockets and absent-mindedly said, "Hmm, it's not here. I must have set it down somewhere. Allow me, Peter." Remus waved his own wand instead, uttering a cleaning spell. They watched as the dishes washed and dried themselves and made their way to the cupboard. When all evidence of their meeting had been removed, they walked towards the front door.
Peter stopped at the door and turned to face the other man. "Thank you again for coming to my mum's burial. It means a lot to me. You're a good friend, Remus, even though I haven't always been the best of friends to you. Can we get together again for coffee?"
"I'm afraid not, Peter," sighed Remus. "Petrificus Totalis." Remus's spell hit Peter full force in the stomach, causing him to fall backwards and land with a thud. "You see, I can never forgive you for betraying James, sending Sirius to Azkaban or bringing Voldemort back. They were my family, Peter. James, Sirius, Lily� I even considered you to be my family once, too. But your selfishness � your weakness � cost me everything I ever held dear. I consider it my duty to James, Sirius and Lily to kill you. Really, the only thing that kept me from killing you these past two years was my unwillingness to break your mother's heart one more time."
Remus hovered over Peter for a long while, gathering up the nerve to do what he needed to do. Finally he said, "Thank you for the coffee. Goodbye, Peter."
The last words Peter heard were "Avada Kedavra."
finis
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