Title: Visitors
Author name: Riibu
Author email: raunistar@yahoo.com
Author Webpage: http://www.thedarkarts.org/authorLinks/Riibu/
Author notes: Many thanks to my beta, Heidi, for helping me with my
language and style.
This fic was originally written for Regulus Black Yahoo group's Regulus Fic
Challenge, as challenge #12: When did Regulus have his first doubts about
Voldemort and/or the Death Eaters, and why?
Visitors
We met in a pub in Knockturn Alley.
No, don't get me wrong, I'm not the kind of person who
thinks that hanging around Knockturn Alley is the ideal pastime. We Blacks
don't have to show our commitment in such an obvious manner, so we never go
there unless it's necessary.
It was. I was there on my Master's mission. Nevertheless,
my contact never showed. I guess I felt a bit weary afterwards, and decided
booze would be the right counter-potion.
An unexpected person arrived in the pub. I felt a little
lonely after so many hours without the conversation I'd expected, so I
instantly waved him to my little corner table.
He didn't recognise me at first, but maybe I can't blame
him. I was a withdrawn teenage boy when we had last met. Finally, a smile
appeared on his face as he remembered.
"Regulus... Regulus Black. It has been so long
since... Um, it's nice to see you."
He - Peter Pettigrew - had been one of my brother's friends
at school. A bloody Gryffindor, like all of them were. He wasn't perhaps the
worst of them, though. At least he had been the only one who had still
occasionally talked to me even once they all knew how much my brother hated me.
I offered him a drink, and after some hesitation, he accepted
it. Now, Knockturn Alley was not exactly the best place to run into old school
friends these days. That street does have a certain reputation. If you visited
there, you were either desperate or the Dark Lord's supporter. It didn't bother
me much; we Blacks tend to have a dark reputation regardless of who we
associate with. Pettigrew seemed more like the desperate kind than a fellow
Death Eater. Secretly I was wondering what he was doing in that smoky little
pub, but after a while the answer seemed quite simple. He had come there to get
drunk, out of the eyes of anyone who knew him.
Well, there was me, of course, but after each drink my
presence seemed to bother him less and less. Soon we were having a conversation
that was perhaps a bit drunken, but decent nonetheless. Actually, it felt quite
nice to speak with someone who didn't loathe you, and didn't know all your dark
secrets either.
"Have you seen Sirius lately?" I found myself
asking at some point, and could have instantly slapped myself. Idiot! He
means nothing to you any more!
"We see each other every now and then. He's okay, I
guess. A bit distressed these days, but then, who isn't? He never talks about
you, though."
"Of course he doesn't; he thinks I'm as bad as the
rest of the family," I jeered. I was angry to myself to start in about
Sirius, but my heart was happy to hear he was okay.
"You're not bad."
"What?" I snapped. "You don't know me,
Pettigrew."
Peter shrugged, and for a while I thought I had gone too
far. I wasn't used to decent conversations. For so long, it had mainly been
orders and commands. I realised I'd forgotten what it was like to talk with a
friend.
"But I know you, Regulus Black. I know you never
teased me because of what I am. You know... fat, and stupid, and..."
"Fat and stupid? Why are you mocking yourself like
this? So what if you're a little overweight? Honestly, who cares? And when it
comes to your intelligence, you're not dim! Remember that time with my Potions
essay and..."
"You were a year younger than me, it wasn't that
difficult..."
"That's not important. The important thing was that
you did it. I was lousy in Potions, and no one else had ever time to help me
out. You just have a low self-esteem."
We stayed silent for a long time, sipping our drinks. So
Pettigrew doesn't think I'm bad, then? For some reason his words had oddly
disturbed me; I wanted to shock him out of his sympathy. I played with the idea
of revealing him my Death Eater status, but of course that's something I wasn't
allowed to do. The only ones who knew about it were my parents, but they were a
special case, of course. The less people knew, the better, at least for the
time being.
"I might be a bad guy. Doesn't Crouch say that anyone
can be a Dark wizard nowadays. I'm hanging around Knockturn Alley, you
see." Now that was said obscurely enough!
Peter didn't answer. He must have thought I was joking, or
maybe he just didn't care. I left him alone for a while. Both of us had already
had a few drinks, and my thoughts felt a little more blurry than usual. Perhaps
it would have been best to leave then.
But I stayed.
It became more and more evident that something bothered
Pettigrew, and that something wasn't me. He was so nervous that every noise in
the pub made him jump - and the pub was not a quiet place. Once he even spilled
his drink. When I studied him more closely I could notice the dark rings around
his weary, watery eyes. There was a look of a hunted animal in those eyes. Who
was he afraid of?
I was starting to ask, but he shook his head
disapprovingly. I let him be, but soon I felt something -someone- touch me.
Peter had put his hand gently on my forearm - the forearm that bore my Master's
mark, in fact. I flinched, sure, for a moment, that he knew, but he
couldn't. It had to be nothing more than a coincidence.
It was strange to be touched like this - caressed, almost.
Shocked, I realised that it had been so very long since I'd been touched by
anyone other than two select people - my mother, and the Dark Lord. Now I felt
the touch of Pettigrew's hand, and shivered. It felt different. Intimate.
"Don't mind my problems," he muttered. "Just
stay with me."
"Pettigrew..."
"Please, call me Peter."
I felt a strong desire to kiss him, there and then. A new
kind of connection was formed between us. Peter must have felt it, too. He
looked even more nervous, but he was smiling, and that smile began slowly to
melt the resistance the Dark Lord had helped me to build. At the moment, I
wasn't particularly worried of my vulnerability. When Peter suggested I come
and visit for a few days, I surprised myself by accepting the invitation, with
unexpected lightness and warmth in my heart.
* * * * *
I was fourteen when I realised that I liked boys. My first
crush was Rodolphus Lestrange, back then a fifth-year Slytherin, but it became
soon clear that he was positively straight. There were other crushes, too, but
I'd never had a real boyfriend. Later, the Dark Arts became more important in
my life than romance ever could. As I succumbed to my Master's service, all my
devotion was reserved for him. Afterwards, the only thing that mattered was my
Master, and there was no time, or need to be in love or loved any more. I
learned love and compassion were feelings that weakened my Dark magic. Soon I
had managed to isolate and control all my feelings. I thought I was doing
pretty well. Until...
...Until that unexpected meeting in a pub in Knockturn
Alley. It had awakened something inside me. I think it was perhaps not love,
but rather a desire to be able to feel love again. The feeling oddly scared me,
but it was intriguing at the same time. I decided I wanted to stay with Peter,
at least for a while.
I had stayed at Peter's cosy little cottage for five days -
five days that were probably the most extraordinary days of my life. The Dark
Lord didn't call me once, which was a little unnerving, for I hadn't returned
to report on my mission to him. Everyone needs a vacation sometimes, I
tried to soothe myself. The Dark Lord never asked me to report back
instantly. I'll stay here just for a couple of days. My mission wasn't that
important. He will understand that. I found myself oddly reluctant to
return to my Master, but currently I tried not to think about it. Instead, I
studied Peter.
After the booze had worn off, Peter appeared to find my
presence in his house somewhat uncomfortable at first. I wonder if he briefly
regretted the whim that had caused him to invite an almost-stranger into his
solitary world. But as he noticed I was not going to laugh at him, he relaxed.
I think there was a certain amount of exhibitionism in this odd whim of his. He
showed me how he lived, and told me about his interests, his opinions and
desires. He watched my reaction as if he'd wanted a second opinion on his life.
All the time, though, I had a feeling that the real question hadn't even been
spoken yet.
What are you so afraid of, Peter Pettigrew?
When he showed me his photo album, my heart felt heavy when
I saw pictures of Sirius sulking at me. But if Peter thought I wanted to talk
about my brother he was mistaken. I wondered what would happen if Sirius
arrived at the Pettigrew House while I was there, but no one visited the house
during my stay there. No one even sent Peter a letter. I wondered what had
happened to the close friendship of their school days. Maybe it was just a
natural occurrence when one grows up. I couldn't know. My own life had been so
different from my brother and his obscenely happy crew.
We made trips in the countryside. For me, the countryside was
a wholly new experience, as was having a walk without destination. I was an
urban wizard, and I never walked anywhere if I could avoid it. Walking
was for Muggles, for Merlin's sake! I always Apparated, and before I was able
to do that there was always the Floo network, or I had a Portkey available.
Heck, because of the lack of exercise I had to use a Potion my mother showed me
to control my weight. I should tell Peter about that Potion, I thought, or
maybe not. I like him just the way he is, and the side-effects can be rather
nasty. Anyway, now Peter took me to long walks, and soon I had to admit I
actually enjoyed them.
We left before midday, after a rich and tasty breakfast
Peter made for us. (It was unnerving at first to notice that he had no house-elves
to do the unpleasant work.) I had forgotten how good a breakfast could taste.
Peter was full of stories of people he knew, or someone I knew, or both. Some
of the stories were amusing, some were not very pleasant, and some of them I
really wouldn't have wanted to hear, like what happened to the McKinnons,
because I knew more than enough about their fate already. Peter talked, either
to forget his nervousness around me, or to see my reactions, or possibly just
to entertain me. I never told him, but I loved the stories of my brother best.
Peter was such an observant person.
Peter insisted that we wear Muggle clothing outdoors. I
felt stupid in those garments - too tight for my taste - and I recalled my
Master's promise that the day would come when a wizard wouldn't be ashamed of
his heritage. But during those days with Peter, dressing as a Muggle was just
another act of that odd play I had chosen to participate in. After a while, I
didn't particularly care.
On our walks, we often passed Muggle farmers doing their
farm work, or Muggle children playing together. We were so different from those
people, and yet we looked alike as long as we didn't take out our wands. Some
of them even seemed to know Peter, and I started to wonder if he was a
Mudblood, but decided it wouldn't be polite to ask. And come to think of it, I
really didn't want to know.
I enjoyed Peter's company. He was a funny person, at least
if he hadn't been so nervous about telling the joke right. He made me laugh,
though, and that was really something - I hadn't laughed since Sirius left
home. It seemed the rules of my Master didn't reach where Peter lived. Suddenly
I wasn't so anxious to freeze my feelings for the Dark Arts' sake any more.
Everyone needed a break sometimes. It didn't make me any worse a follower. The
Dark Lord had to understand that.
Yesterday we both were in a rather playful mood. Sheltered
by some trees and a hedge, sure that no Muggles were around, we started a
boyish hex fight. I guess we both needed to loose some energy packed inside us.
"You're gonna die, Black!"
"You're worm food, Pettigrew!"
Then there was just laughing and screaming and flying hexes
for a while. It felt almost unreal. Only a week ago (Could it be just a week?
It felt like an eternity.) I threw curses like this, but more notorious ones,
and for deliberate and specific purposes; the Unforgivables. My victim didn't
fight back. He hadn't the time, nor the power - he'd been a Muggle. I shivered.
Do not think about those things now.
Peter fought back. I quickly noticed he wasn't exactly a
talented duellist, but his determination was admirable. I held myself back to
give him a chance. A thought occurred to me that I could very easily cast one
of those curses my Master had taught me to end the game if I'd wanted, but the
thought made me disgusted. Not here, not now.
Finally I was too quick for Peter. He failed to avoid my
Trip Jinx, and fell down onto the grassy ground.
I watched him fall like in a nightmare. Did I hurt him? Was
he dead? The stomach-turning feeling passed as Peter raised his head, grinning
almost victoriously, even though he'd just lost the fight.
"Nice catch, Regulus."
I helped him up with shaky hands. He probably noticed I was
distressed, but thankfully he didn't ask me anything.
Day by day, I had seen even more clearly that something was
bothering Peter. He played and joked with me as if we were innocent children,
but his eyes sometimes held a hollow look. After a couple of days, the
heaviness of unasked questions in the air became too hard to bear.
"What worrying you, Peter?" I finally asked in a
dinner table.
"What?" He tried to play as carefree and happy as
he could. His eyes didn't smile, though.
"I don't know you well, and I may be wrong, but I feel
something has been bothering you all the time I've spent with you, Peter. I
mean... you can tell me about it if you want."
I really wasn't used to these kinds of things. Being
sympathetic. Being a friend. But Merlin, how I wanted to be!
"It's not you, Regulus," he said, not looking at
me. "Just something... personal. And it's my problem, not yours. I don't
want to talk about it."
"Is it so bad?" I asked, but he just shrugged.
I got up and walked to his side of the oaken dinner table.
His shoulders seemed bent now, almost as if he'd been waiting for a blow from
me. He was wearing simple black robes. I suddenly hated those black robes,
because they reminded me of the cloaks of the Death Eaters. I didn't want to
think about those things now; I just wanted to help Peter to feel a little
better. I was standing behind him now, unsure what to do next. He let me touch
his shoulders, and then his cheek, and chin. He had forgotten to do a shaving
spell that morning. Noticing that made me smile. His skin was so rough, so real.
Peter let me turn him slowly around. Suddenly he was
standing in front of me, holding my hands firmly, eyes flashing. I was amazed
at the hidden power inside him. It was like his earlier low self-esteem had
vanished by my touch. He just needs someone by his side, I thought
fuzzily. Then, just like in the pub in Knockturn Alley some days ago, I wanted
to kiss Peter Pettigrew.
I can't remember which of us started the kiss. I had never
been kissed before, not like this. The Dark Lord had kissed me; it had been a
part of the initiation ceremony. But his touch was cold, and his mouth tasted
bitter. Maybe he had poison in his spit? Peter's mouth tasted so very
different. August moons, fresh countryside air and table wine were in his kiss.
His kiss tasted alive. Peter seemed to have forgotten his nervousness. I liked
him that way. As long as the kiss would last he wouldn't remember the thing
that worried him. I didn't want to let him go.
I held him as if I had been his lifesaver, or he mine. An
odd mixture of feelings filled my mind. This was happiness. Then why was I
suddenly so frightened?
That was last night. I slept beside him, listening his
steady breathing until I awoke in the morning sunshine, and realised I had
fallen asleep at some point of the night.
* * * * *
After ten days my Master finally called me.
Peter and I had been sitting on the living room sofa,
talking. I needed to feel him near me so his arm was around my shoulder. That's
why he instantly felt my body stiffen as the Dark Mark burned on my forearm.
"What is it, Regulus?"
It felt so unfair, so sudden. I had been on a vacation,
hadn't I? Peter and I had started to become really close; it was a glorious new
experience for me, and I didn't want to leave him yet, even for a short while.
But I knew I had to. I had vowed to come whenever my Master called.
The pain in my arm grew constantly stronger. I managed to
suppress a groan. My Master became easily impatient, and I hadn't any idea how
I would explain the complicate situation to Peter. He was looking at me,
puzzled, and in his eyes I once again saw the nervousness I had so much wanted
to take away from him.
"Reg, are you all right?" he peeped like a small
animal. "Are you in pain?"
I was getting nervous, too. I had to get out of that
cottage by whatever means, and soon. Half of me just wanted to shout out the
truth. I'm a Death Eater, Peter, and the Dark Lord is calling. What can I
do? Leave me alone! But that would have destroyed everything. I was bound
to live in the world of secrecy, whether I wanted it or not.
"Peter, you must understand this... I just remembered
something... I really have to go now. I'll be back soon." I knew that
didn't made any sense to Pettigrew, but at the moment I was in a complete loss
of words. The pain made thinking even more difficult. I should have thought
this through before. I knew this day would come...
I stood up, pushing away utterly confused Peter who was
still trying to hold me.
"What is it, Regulus? Are you angry at me? Is it
something I said? Something I did?"
"No! This is nothing to do with you!" I shouted
in panic, but as if to contrast my words my voice sounded suddenly angry.
Startled, Peter withdrew.
"Please, don't leave! I don't understand what's going
on! Are you tired of me?"
I didn't want to look at Peter's pleading eyes. I would
have liked so much only to stay with him. I had just started to think of us as
lovers, and the thought felt good. But I was also a Death Eater, and there were
certain priorities in a Death Eater's life.
Now I understood why the Dark Lord keeps saying that love
is our weakness.
I had wanted to say something soothing to Peter; something
like that I had to leave, but I would be back soon, and he shouldn't worry at
all. But as he tried to stop me, tightly gripping my burning arm, I couldn't
control myself anymore.
"Let me go!" I cried, twisting my mouth in pain.
I shook off Peter's hand in fury, and pushed him hard, causing him to fell back
onto the sofa. The last thing I saw before I ran out of the door was his
pitiful, bewildered expression. I felt numb.
* * * * *
I had been wrong. My Master was angry. It would have
been easier if he'd yelled at me, even cast Cruciatus, but he just stared at me
in furious silence. I felt his disappointment, but it would have been easier to
bear if he'd said it aloud. Now he made me feel I wasn't even worthy to hear
his words. I felt sweat in my palms and my heart beat too fast as he studied me
intently. He seemed to see the fear on my face even through my mask.
"So you thought you could have a vacation? Stupid boy.
There's no vacation as long as there's war." Lord Voldemort spoke at last.
I realised in a shock that he must have read my thoughts.
I knelt anxiously before him, not sure if it was better
that there were no other Death Eaters present, or worse. I didn't want anyone
to see my humiliation, but now there was no one who could save me from the Dark
Lord's wrath, if things went really bad.
"My Lord..." What else was there to say? I didn't
understand myself any more. Why hadn't I returned to my Master after my task,
as usual? But I couldn't help thinking of Peter's miserable expression as I had
fled from his house to answer the Dark Mark's call. I had betrayed his trust,
or at least that's how it must have felt to him. He would never understand. I
had been a fool to think I could live a normal life. For people like me, it
just wasn't possible. Still, I missed his smile.
I shrugged. My Master had laid one of his bony hands onto
my hooded head.
"I have trusted in you, young Black. How are you going
to pay back my trust? Are you any use of me anymore?" His voice had grown
so menacing; the fear inside me increased. What would there be for me left, if
even my Master abandoned me?
Pettigrew... No, don't think of him now! I ordered myself furiously, but it was too late. My Master
had already caught the thought. The first time that evening he smiled. It was
bad. He only smiled to his prey.
"Hm, Pettigrew? So you've spent your time with a
certain Peter Pettigrew? That's interesting."
I didn't dare to speak.
"It seems your stubbornness has been a great service
to me after all, Regulus Black."
"My Lord," I repeated anxiously. I wasn't sure
what my Master meant, but there was now new hope in his words, and I clung to
that hope. I had to. I wanted to serve him, wanted to show I was capable and
loyal. I was a Black, after all.
"Pettigrew," my Master said again, and I could
have sworn he was amused. "What a coincidence that you've become friends
with that young wizard just when he has become of particular interest to
me."
"Master..." I knelt even lower. Suddenly I
understood everything. The haunted look in Peter's eyes, his nervousness, his
fear. They were after him. The Dark Lord needed him to do something, maybe to
be his spy. It wasn't so uncommon these days. Some people complied more easily,
others needed a little more persuasion. Now I knew what was frightening Peter.
I didn't want to hear the next words of my Master.
"I want you to bring him to me."
I didn't want to hear those words, because I knew I was
powerless to resist my Master's command.
* * * * *
I am a Death Eater. That means I belong to Voldemort, and
when he finally takes over, I will be there by his side to create the new
order. I remember how proud I was when I was initiated to my Master's secrets.
Now I was getting ready for the next mission, but oddly, I couldn't feel
anything as I watched myself in a mirror. I saw a slender figure in a black
robe, hood pulled up to shade the face, although there was nothing to see, just
a white mask; white as a skull. I held a wand in my gloved hand, and took a
step ahead in my heavy boots. I was ready to go.
My companion arrived. I didn't know his identity, as he was
masked like me, but his voice sounded older, and particularly self-confident.
"This is our mission. We're to go to a wizard named
Peter Pettigrew. He's rather dull and pathetic for a pure-blood, but our Master
still sees some use for him, although what that is, I can hardly imagine. Death
Eaters have visited him before, but he hasn't yet turned to serve the Dark. Our
mission is to persuade him to take the crucial step. There's really no choice
for him, is there? But he's useless dead, so we have to keep him alive and
sane. Torture is acceptable, if we need to help him make up his mind. But only
if necessary. We're his friends, remember, and we've come to save him.
Right?"
I nodded; I understood the rules. Without further words we
Apparated.
I have always loved the heated tension that grows inside me
just before the attack. After the Apparation, everything happens so fast, like
some sacred dark dance. The curses fly, people scream, and the feeling of power
and control fills my heart, making me feel invincible. However, this time it
was nothing like that.
Only a day before I had left Peter, but it seemed like an
eternity. But when I looked around, I felt like I hadn't been away at all. We
Apparated into the kitchen, and I noticed the used dinner plates on the table
where they'd been when I left. The sink was full of dishes we hadn't taken time
to wash before. We continued to the living room, and found Peter there, sitting
on the same sofa where I had left him. The only thing that showed he had moved
at all was the bottle of Firewhisky on the table - now almost empty - and the
glass in his hand.
Then he saw us. He let a cry that ended in a squeak, and
then his body collapsed, the glass shattered, and instead of Peter, there was a
rat running towards the door. I knew I should have done something, but the
shock of seeing Peter again, and his sudden transformation were too much. I
froze. My companion, however, knew how to act. He let a few stunning spells fly
towards the fleeing rat, and one of those hit its target. The stunned rat was
put onto the sofa, and another spell made Peter regain his human form.
"An Animagus, eh?" said my Death Eater companion.
"That was most unexpected. He must be really desperate to show his secret
talent to us."
Would Peter have shown his secret talent to me some day, if
we had stayed together? Now I would never know. I would never know if he had
told me about the Death Eaters who were tormenting him. Did he believe I could
help him? I felt almost nauseated. I would have liked to leave the house, but I
was in the middle of the mission, and the hardest part was still ahead.
"Go away! Leave me alone!" My companion had
revived Peter, but not before he had cast a partial Petrificus charm on him.
"We've been patient with you, Pettigrew, but we can't
continue like this eternally. The Dark Lord needs your answer."
"My answer is no," came a weak whisper.
"But that's not the right answer, Pettigrew. You know
it, too. Want to try again?"
Peter was sweating. He looked like a cornered animal - Animagus
- I thought dizzily. I was sweating as well, unsure what to do. I knew what
would happen next. Peter was a stubborn Gryffindor, he wouldn't surrender so
easily. You can't buy a Gryffindor; they can only be overcome by taking away
their hope.
And what hope was there any more?
"I'm not going to join you! Ever!" Peter cried, but
there was desperation in his voice.
My companion drew his wand and spoke, "Crucio!",
but the curse had hardly touched Peter as I jumped ahead, and pulled off my
mask.
"Peter! It's me! Stop! Stop, I'll talk to him!"
The other Death Eater lowered his wand. Both of them turned
to face me. I saw Peter become even more pale as he recognised who I was.
"That was a very stupid thing to do, Regulus
Black," said my Death Eater companion in a menacing voice. I knew I should
have been worried, because he now knew my identity, but I wasn't.
"Peter, listen to me." I spoke rapidly, afraid
that either of them would interrupt me. "There's no choice. You can't
fight the Dark Lord, Peter. We are not going to harm you if you accept his
offer. Please, do." I knew I started to sound desperate myself.
Peter just stared blankly at me.
"I trusted you. I... cared for you. I thought you
cared, too. And then... you are... you are..." He wasn't able to finish
the sentence.
"Peter, you have no choice."
"You must have laughed when I asked you to stay with
me. I was your target all the time!"
"No, Peter. I didn't know..."