fic: One More Mile (first draft)
So I was taking a break from writing, and reading fic and answering comments etc. instead, right?
Not so much, apparently.
One More Mile | Sirius, James, Peter, October 1981 | unbetaed | 1565 words
One More Mile
i.
And while you wallow in your wounds
You let the devils draw near
*
Sirius keeps his suspicions to himself, but he can't just do nothing any longer. He’s protected Remus as long as he can, but now he needs to protect James and Lily and Harry. From Remus. From himself.
“If we make Peter the Secret-Keeper,” he begins, pausing for James’s startled, “What?” before continuing on as if James hasn’t spoken. “If we make Peter the Secret-Keeper, no one will ever suspect it. I’ll still go into hiding, like we planned, but--"
“You’re the decoy.”
“I’m the decoy.”
James says nothing, and Sirius paces the living room, three steps forward, three steps back, as if he can change James’s mind with mere motion. It’s worked in the past, but then is not now, and now is-- Sirius stops himself. If what he believes is true, now will never be like then, and most likely, then wasn’t really like then, either.
“If Peter is caught--"
“He won’t be. Who would make Wormtail their Secret-Keeper?” Sirius says scornfully. "Who would even believe he was a member of the Order? It’s a brilliant plan."
“It’s a desperate plan,” James counters, “and if it doesn’t work--" He glances down the hallway, to the room where Lily and Harry are sleeping.
“It’s not foolproof,” Sirius finally admits, “but if we don’t tell anyone--"
“Not even Remus?”
“Not even Remus.” Especially not Remus, Sirius thinks. He has kept his suspicions to himself; James has enough trouble without having to listen to the mounting evidence that one of his best friends has been systematically betraying him for over a year. Sirius has trouble believing it himself. And it’s not like James doesn’t know there’s a spy in their midst. He’ll know what Sirius is saying without ever making him actually say it, because Sirius thinks he might just break if he has to say it out loud.
James purses his lips, thinking, then, “Who’ll clean up the mess if it all goes wrong?”
“If it goes wrong, we’ll all be dead and it won’t matter,” Sirius answers, for once not sugar-coating the truth.
James nods. “I’ll talk to Lily.”
“James, please--"
“I’m not making this decision without her.”
“I’m not asking you to. I just--"
“I know.”
He pulls James into a brief embrace, wishing he could cling, could pour out all his doubts and fears so James could laugh and make them go away. But James can’t, so Sirius doesn’t.
“I’ll let you know,” James says when Sirius releases him, and Sirius nods.
He leaves the tiny house in the middle of nowhere, and heads for his favorite pub. He needs a drink or five before he can go home and listen to Remus lie to him again.
*
ii.
Shadows wait you when you rise
You hold the weight of every moment
*
Lily rocks Harry to sleep as James slowly puts the dinner dishes away. It really doesn’t matter where he stores them -- these are not their dishes, this is not their home.
This is not our life, he thinks, removing his glasses and rubbing his forehead, fingers cool and damp from washing up the Muggle way. But it is, and there’s almost nothing he can do about it, a helpless feeling he loathes even more than the fact that they are being hunted. He’s sure Sirius would make some sort of stag joke, even now, but there is no longer anything funny about their situation.
In the candlelight, Lily’s hair gleams, brighter than any flame, and Harry’s face is pale and soft. She sings softly, her voice and shoulders steady, and James knows she is stronger than he is, she’s always been stronger. Only that fact keeps him from falling apart.
She turns toward him then, her face hazy and shadowed.
”Are you sure?” she asks, and he doesn’t have to put his glasses on to see the doubt in her eyes, doesn’t *want* to see it, or hear it in her voice.
“No,” he answers honestly, because he can’t lie to her, he’s never been able to lie to her. “But Sirius thinks--"
“I know what Sirius thinks,” she spits at him, before remembering the sleeping child cradled in her arms. Her voice is softer when she continues. “I want to know what you think.”
“If Remus really is the spy--" he can’t finish the thought, let alone the sentence. Sirius hasn’t said anything, but James knows him, and Sirius is hiding something. Since he knows Sirius is not the spy, and there is no one else Sirius would lie to protect-- James shakes his head and replaces his glasses.
“And if he’s not?”
“Then it doesn’t matter. He’s safe, and so are we.” Safe is a relative term these days; he can’t remember the last time he felt truly safe.
Lily shakes her head. “Dumbledore can do it. He’s said he would.”
“He has more important things to worry about.”
Her chin comes up, reminding him of the time when she’d have rather yelled at than speak to him. “What’s more important than Harry?”
James wraps his arms around her, around their son, and presses kisses to her neck, inhales the warm scent of her skin, and Harry’s. He has to swallow hard before he can speak.
“Nothing.”
“And you want to trust his life to a, a trick? One of Sirius’s plans?”
“I trust Sirius,” he says, because it is the truth, and the only justification he can offer.
She relaxes against him, but he can still feel the tension in her body. He wonders if any of them will ever relax again. He wills himself to be strong, hopes she can draw what little strength he has to supplement her own. But this is her choice to make, and he knows he's asking a lot.
"I’ll tell Sirius,” he begins, reading her answer in the silence. They will come up with another plan.
“Tell him to bring Peter,” she whispers, turning in his arms to press her face against his chest. She's shaking a little, and he can feel the tears soak his shirt.
“Do you trust him?” he asks.
“I trust you.” She raises her face and he kisses her gently, her tears bitter on his lips, Harry’s warm, sleeping body cradled between them.
They depend on him, and he can only hope what he’s doing is right.
*
iii.
One more mile is all we have
Until the lost become the found
*
When Sirius says, “Wormtail, we need to talk,” Peter feels a shiver run down his spine. Of all the Order members, he fears Sirius the most, because Sirius will have no mercy, show no pity if he discovers Peter’s betrayal. Peter looks at Sirius and wonders what quirk of chance or fate led him to Dumbledore’s side, because he sees in Sirius the same darkness that drives He Who Must Not Be Named, the same ruthless disdain for weakness and indecision that characterizes Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy.
He knows half the Order believe Sirius to be the spy, and he has carefully cultivated Sirius’s suspicions of Remus; Remus’s behavior only reinforces Sirius’s doubts, and Peter has used only the truth, twisted, to cast Remus as the traitor.
They sit at a table in the Three Broomsticks, two old school chums who have nothing in common except the secrets they share. Peter works hard to keep his lip from curling in disdain at Sirius’s narrow-mindedness, his ability to believe ill of Remus on so little, and overlook Peter altogether.
Sirius knocks back the firewhisky and orders another. Clearly he is working up to asking some favor; Sirius has always hated asking Peter for things -- he usually demands and Peter acquiesces. Not anymore, though. The thought warms Peter more than the firewhisky he has barely sipped.
“What do you need, Sirius?”
“James and Lily--" Sirius breaks off, takes another large gulp of whisky.
Peter finds it easy to appear worried. He would keep the Potters from harm if he could. Since he cannot, his concern is genuine. “Are they all right? I thought you were doing the Fidelius--"
“Yes. The Fidelius. But instead of me being the Secret-Keeper, I’ll be the decoy.”
Peter draws a sharp breath. “You can’t mean--"
“James wants you to be his Secret-Keeper.”
The words hang between them, nearly palpable amid the scent of firewhisky and fear emanating from Sirius, and the smoke rising from the hearth.
Peter takes another deep breath, forcing himself to remain clam. He wonders if Sirius can hear his heart pounding, and decides even if he can, he’ll attribute it to fear rather than excitement. He wouldn’t be completely wrong.
“Are you, are you sure?” he chokes out.
“Don’t worry,” Sirius says, “Dumbledore will protect you. No one will ever suspect you’re the Secret-Keeper. I’ll still go into hiding the way we planned.”
“And Remus?”
“Remus doesn’t need to know. It’s ... safer that way.” Safer for whom, Sirius doesn’t say, and Peter digs his nails into the palm of his hand, the pain grounding him, keeping him from laughing hysterically, triumphantly, at the way Sirius and James have finally put all the power in his hands, after so many years of keeping it to themselves. “Listen, I know it’s a lot to ask, but James and Lily really trust you, and they think you’re the best choice.”
“Save it, Sirius. I realize it’s all some kind of bait and switch plan, but that’s fine. I’ll do it. For James.” He takes a small sip of firewhisky and watches Sirius down a third glass.
”For James,” Sirius repeats, and Peter finally lets loose a nervous little giggle as they toast to James’s doom.
end
***
Comments/suggestions welcome.
Yeah, I don't know either. I blame Tom McRae.
***
Non yuletide Insta!Recs:
For to Preserve This Day by eponis
Christmas, 1980, and Remus’s work for the Order isn’t going as well as he’d hoped. Beautifully spare and terribly possible.
Since you'll probably need a little cheering up after that:
Two Wizards, One Gift, and a Duck-Billed Platypus, Light Amid Darkness, and One Werewolf, One Boy and a Ghost by sheafrotherdon
Three Christmases, three wizards. (Remus/Sirius)
okay, maybe after that last one you'll need cheering up again.
***
How'd it get to be three o'clock?
Lunch now. OMG hungry!
Not so much, apparently.
One More Mile | Sirius, James, Peter, October 1981 | unbetaed | 1565 words
One More Mile
i.
And while you wallow in your wounds
You let the devils draw near
*
Sirius keeps his suspicions to himself, but he can't just do nothing any longer. He’s protected Remus as long as he can, but now he needs to protect James and Lily and Harry. From Remus. From himself.
“If we make Peter the Secret-Keeper,” he begins, pausing for James’s startled, “What?” before continuing on as if James hasn’t spoken. “If we make Peter the Secret-Keeper, no one will ever suspect it. I’ll still go into hiding, like we planned, but--"
“You’re the decoy.”
“I’m the decoy.”
James says nothing, and Sirius paces the living room, three steps forward, three steps back, as if he can change James’s mind with mere motion. It’s worked in the past, but then is not now, and now is-- Sirius stops himself. If what he believes is true, now will never be like then, and most likely, then wasn’t really like then, either.
“If Peter is caught--"
“He won’t be. Who would make Wormtail their Secret-Keeper?” Sirius says scornfully. "Who would even believe he was a member of the Order? It’s a brilliant plan."
“It’s a desperate plan,” James counters, “and if it doesn’t work--" He glances down the hallway, to the room where Lily and Harry are sleeping.
“It’s not foolproof,” Sirius finally admits, “but if we don’t tell anyone--"
“Not even Remus?”
“Not even Remus.” Especially not Remus, Sirius thinks. He has kept his suspicions to himself; James has enough trouble without having to listen to the mounting evidence that one of his best friends has been systematically betraying him for over a year. Sirius has trouble believing it himself. And it’s not like James doesn’t know there’s a spy in their midst. He’ll know what Sirius is saying without ever making him actually say it, because Sirius thinks he might just break if he has to say it out loud.
James purses his lips, thinking, then, “Who’ll clean up the mess if it all goes wrong?”
“If it goes wrong, we’ll all be dead and it won’t matter,” Sirius answers, for once not sugar-coating the truth.
James nods. “I’ll talk to Lily.”
“James, please--"
“I’m not making this decision without her.”
“I’m not asking you to. I just--"
“I know.”
He pulls James into a brief embrace, wishing he could cling, could pour out all his doubts and fears so James could laugh and make them go away. But James can’t, so Sirius doesn’t.
“I’ll let you know,” James says when Sirius releases him, and Sirius nods.
He leaves the tiny house in the middle of nowhere, and heads for his favorite pub. He needs a drink or five before he can go home and listen to Remus lie to him again.
*
ii.
Shadows wait you when you rise
You hold the weight of every moment
*
Lily rocks Harry to sleep as James slowly puts the dinner dishes away. It really doesn’t matter where he stores them -- these are not their dishes, this is not their home.
This is not our life, he thinks, removing his glasses and rubbing his forehead, fingers cool and damp from washing up the Muggle way. But it is, and there’s almost nothing he can do about it, a helpless feeling he loathes even more than the fact that they are being hunted. He’s sure Sirius would make some sort of stag joke, even now, but there is no longer anything funny about their situation.
In the candlelight, Lily’s hair gleams, brighter than any flame, and Harry’s face is pale and soft. She sings softly, her voice and shoulders steady, and James knows she is stronger than he is, she’s always been stronger. Only that fact keeps him from falling apart.
She turns toward him then, her face hazy and shadowed.
”Are you sure?” she asks, and he doesn’t have to put his glasses on to see the doubt in her eyes, doesn’t *want* to see it, or hear it in her voice.
“No,” he answers honestly, because he can’t lie to her, he’s never been able to lie to her. “But Sirius thinks--"
“I know what Sirius thinks,” she spits at him, before remembering the sleeping child cradled in her arms. Her voice is softer when she continues. “I want to know what you think.”
“If Remus really is the spy--" he can’t finish the thought, let alone the sentence. Sirius hasn’t said anything, but James knows him, and Sirius is hiding something. Since he knows Sirius is not the spy, and there is no one else Sirius would lie to protect-- James shakes his head and replaces his glasses.
“And if he’s not?”
“Then it doesn’t matter. He’s safe, and so are we.” Safe is a relative term these days; he can’t remember the last time he felt truly safe.
Lily shakes her head. “Dumbledore can do it. He’s said he would.”
“He has more important things to worry about.”
Her chin comes up, reminding him of the time when she’d have rather yelled at than speak to him. “What’s more important than Harry?”
James wraps his arms around her, around their son, and presses kisses to her neck, inhales the warm scent of her skin, and Harry’s. He has to swallow hard before he can speak.
“Nothing.”
“And you want to trust his life to a, a trick? One of Sirius’s plans?”
“I trust Sirius,” he says, because it is the truth, and the only justification he can offer.
She relaxes against him, but he can still feel the tension in her body. He wonders if any of them will ever relax again. He wills himself to be strong, hopes she can draw what little strength he has to supplement her own. But this is her choice to make, and he knows he's asking a lot.
"I’ll tell Sirius,” he begins, reading her answer in the silence. They will come up with another plan.
“Tell him to bring Peter,” she whispers, turning in his arms to press her face against his chest. She's shaking a little, and he can feel the tears soak his shirt.
“Do you trust him?” he asks.
“I trust you.” She raises her face and he kisses her gently, her tears bitter on his lips, Harry’s warm, sleeping body cradled between them.
They depend on him, and he can only hope what he’s doing is right.
*
iii.
One more mile is all we have
Until the lost become the found
*
When Sirius says, “Wormtail, we need to talk,” Peter feels a shiver run down his spine. Of all the Order members, he fears Sirius the most, because Sirius will have no mercy, show no pity if he discovers Peter’s betrayal. Peter looks at Sirius and wonders what quirk of chance or fate led him to Dumbledore’s side, because he sees in Sirius the same darkness that drives He Who Must Not Be Named, the same ruthless disdain for weakness and indecision that characterizes Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy.
He knows half the Order believe Sirius to be the spy, and he has carefully cultivated Sirius’s suspicions of Remus; Remus’s behavior only reinforces Sirius’s doubts, and Peter has used only the truth, twisted, to cast Remus as the traitor.
They sit at a table in the Three Broomsticks, two old school chums who have nothing in common except the secrets they share. Peter works hard to keep his lip from curling in disdain at Sirius’s narrow-mindedness, his ability to believe ill of Remus on so little, and overlook Peter altogether.
Sirius knocks back the firewhisky and orders another. Clearly he is working up to asking some favor; Sirius has always hated asking Peter for things -- he usually demands and Peter acquiesces. Not anymore, though. The thought warms Peter more than the firewhisky he has barely sipped.
“What do you need, Sirius?”
“James and Lily--" Sirius breaks off, takes another large gulp of whisky.
Peter finds it easy to appear worried. He would keep the Potters from harm if he could. Since he cannot, his concern is genuine. “Are they all right? I thought you were doing the Fidelius--"
“Yes. The Fidelius. But instead of me being the Secret-Keeper, I’ll be the decoy.”
Peter draws a sharp breath. “You can’t mean--"
“James wants you to be his Secret-Keeper.”
The words hang between them, nearly palpable amid the scent of firewhisky and fear emanating from Sirius, and the smoke rising from the hearth.
Peter takes another deep breath, forcing himself to remain clam. He wonders if Sirius can hear his heart pounding, and decides even if he can, he’ll attribute it to fear rather than excitement. He wouldn’t be completely wrong.
“Are you, are you sure?” he chokes out.
“Don’t worry,” Sirius says, “Dumbledore will protect you. No one will ever suspect you’re the Secret-Keeper. I’ll still go into hiding the way we planned.”
“And Remus?”
“Remus doesn’t need to know. It’s ... safer that way.” Safer for whom, Sirius doesn’t say, and Peter digs his nails into the palm of his hand, the pain grounding him, keeping him from laughing hysterically, triumphantly, at the way Sirius and James have finally put all the power in his hands, after so many years of keeping it to themselves. “Listen, I know it’s a lot to ask, but James and Lily really trust you, and they think you’re the best choice.”
“Save it, Sirius. I realize it’s all some kind of bait and switch plan, but that’s fine. I’ll do it. For James.” He takes a small sip of firewhisky and watches Sirius down a third glass.
”For James,” Sirius repeats, and Peter finally lets loose a nervous little giggle as they toast to James’s doom.
end
***
Comments/suggestions welcome.
Yeah, I don't know either. I blame Tom McRae.
***
Non yuletide Insta!Recs:
For to Preserve This Day by eponis
Christmas, 1980, and Remus’s work for the Order isn’t going as well as he’d hoped. Beautifully spare and terribly possible.
Since you'll probably need a little cheering up after that:
Two Wizards, One Gift, and a Duck-Billed Platypus, Light Amid Darkness, and One Werewolf, One Boy and a Ghost by sheafrotherdon
Three Christmases, three wizards. (Remus/Sirius)
okay, maybe after that last one you'll need cheering up again.
***
How'd it get to be three o'clock?
Lunch now. OMG hungry!