Afternoon Queerditch Pub Ficlet
Today the prompts were (and will be later, at the evening session) pictures. Only one picture gave me any ideas--a silhouette of a rodent sitting up, looking as if it were begging.
***
"Peter? Come here for a minute, will you?"
Peter put down the quill with a sigh and walked over to James's bed. James was sitting there, staring at an Arithmancy text as if it held the answers to all the world's questions.
"All right," he said to James. "I'm here. What do you want?"
James looked up. Peter scarcely had time to be surprised by the intensity in James's expression before James pulled him close and kissed him on the lips.
"Yeurrgh!" Peter pulled back. As he tried to break James's grip, he stared at James, horrified. "James, what the hell--?"
James was still looking at him with that intense expression. "Don't pretend you didn't like it."
"I didn't!"
"Liar." The word was calm, almost amused. "Come on, Peter, you know you want me."
Peter, still fighting to get free, glared at James. "God, you really are full of yourself. Anyway, I thought you were daft about Lily. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not her."
James, if anything, looked puzzled. "Of course I love Lily. What's that got to do with this?"
"Do you kiss all your friends?" Peter demanded in a tone heavy with irony.
James chuckled. "Oh, far more than kiss. At least with Sirius and Remus." His voice took on a coaxing tone. "Come on, Peter. You don't want to be the odd one out. And don't think I haven't seen you--in human and in rat form--sitting up oh-so-eagerly, wanting desperately to be noticed. So, you've been noticed. What's the problem?"
"But--" Peter bit his lip. "James, I--" I don't WANT this. You're a boy. I like girls.
James sighed. "Wormtail, do stop playing coy. It really doesn't suit. And if we're to get anything done, it will have to be before the others come back, so stop the token protests and join in, will you?"
And before Peter could utter another protest, he pulled Peter to him once more and kissed him again--this time forcing his tongue to open Peter's closed lips. A callused hand reached under Peter's robes and began to yank insistently on his Y-fronts.
Panicked beyond reason, and not even thinking about spells that could make James stop, Peter swung at James.
It was not a polite punch. Strictly speaking, it hit below the belt. Hard. Which was precisely the idea.
Clutching his wounded groin, James crumpled up with a moan. Peter broke free and bolted for the staircase.
Run anywhere! His mind shrieked. Anyplace safe, anyplace he isn't!
And run he did.
***
Peter never mentioned this to Sirius or Remus. Neither did James. For a long time, Peter wondered if he had imagined it, based on some desire he hadn't known he possessed. Surely James, of all people, couldn't possibly want him, not really. Not short, plain, ordinary Peter.
He called it a dream. He called it a fantasy. He told himself that it had not happened, must never have happened. He had to. If he hadn't mislaid the memory, he'd have had to mislay the friendship.
Not until Sirius and James presented him with their brilliant idea--that he should be Secret-Keeper--did Peter, gazing at James's intense expression, realise that the memory was true. And just as quickly, he realised why James had assented to his being Secret-Keeper.
James knew he'd be good at it.
After all, wasn't he keeping one killer secret already?
***
"Peter? Come here for a minute, will you?"
Peter put down the quill with a sigh and walked over to James's bed. James was sitting there, staring at an Arithmancy text as if it held the answers to all the world's questions.
"All right," he said to James. "I'm here. What do you want?"
James looked up. Peter scarcely had time to be surprised by the intensity in James's expression before James pulled him close and kissed him on the lips.
"Yeurrgh!" Peter pulled back. As he tried to break James's grip, he stared at James, horrified. "James, what the hell--?"
James was still looking at him with that intense expression. "Don't pretend you didn't like it."
"I didn't!"
"Liar." The word was calm, almost amused. "Come on, Peter, you know you want me."
Peter, still fighting to get free, glared at James. "God, you really are full of yourself. Anyway, I thought you were daft about Lily. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not her."
James, if anything, looked puzzled. "Of course I love Lily. What's that got to do with this?"
"Do you kiss all your friends?" Peter demanded in a tone heavy with irony.
James chuckled. "Oh, far more than kiss. At least with Sirius and Remus." His voice took on a coaxing tone. "Come on, Peter. You don't want to be the odd one out. And don't think I haven't seen you--in human and in rat form--sitting up oh-so-eagerly, wanting desperately to be noticed. So, you've been noticed. What's the problem?"
"But--" Peter bit his lip. "James, I--" I don't WANT this. You're a boy. I like girls.
James sighed. "Wormtail, do stop playing coy. It really doesn't suit. And if we're to get anything done, it will have to be before the others come back, so stop the token protests and join in, will you?"
And before Peter could utter another protest, he pulled Peter to him once more and kissed him again--this time forcing his tongue to open Peter's closed lips. A callused hand reached under Peter's robes and began to yank insistently on his Y-fronts.
Panicked beyond reason, and not even thinking about spells that could make James stop, Peter swung at James.
It was not a polite punch. Strictly speaking, it hit below the belt. Hard. Which was precisely the idea.
Clutching his wounded groin, James crumpled up with a moan. Peter broke free and bolted for the staircase.
Run anywhere! His mind shrieked. Anyplace safe, anyplace he isn't!
And run he did.
***
Peter never mentioned this to Sirius or Remus. Neither did James. For a long time, Peter wondered if he had imagined it, based on some desire he hadn't known he possessed. Surely James, of all people, couldn't possibly want him, not really. Not short, plain, ordinary Peter.
He called it a dream. He called it a fantasy. He told himself that it had not happened, must never have happened. He had to. If he hadn't mislaid the memory, he'd have had to mislay the friendship.
Not until Sirius and James presented him with their brilliant idea--that he should be Secret-Keeper--did Peter, gazing at James's intense expression, realise that the memory was true. And just as quickly, he realised why James had assented to his being Secret-Keeper.
James knew he'd be good at it.
After all, wasn't he keeping one killer secret already?