Like Magic

Chapter Nine

February 1976

Petunia struggled with the pile of books in her arms. "And this - this - oh, and this is excellent, you must read it - don't forget this one as well - " More and more books were added to the growing pile. Petunia began to feel her arms quake.

"Er, Mrs Johnson? I really can't carry any more books home today."

"Oh, no, dear, of course not," said the woman, eyeing the pile (for she could no longer see Petunia's head behind it). "You take all of these now, and I'll set the others aside for another day." Mrs Johnson smiled at Petunia, as if she were an obedient puppy. "We'll give your mother enough reading material to last a thousand cases of the flu, won't we?"

"I hope not that many, Mrs Johnson," said Petunia.

"No, dear. Tomorrow, then?"

"I can't tomorrow," said Petunia a bit ruefully. "Lily is going back to school tomorrow, and I can't leave Mother home alone. That's the only reason I've been able to come out at all today, is that Lily has been watching Mother for me."

"Such an angel, your sister, coming home all that way from - where is her school, again, dear? Yorkshire? And to take care of your mother for you!" gushed Mrs Johnson, moving behind the counter to the till.

"I missed a whole week of school before she could get away," said Petunia, trying not to be too sharp. "And I was ill myself before the week was out."

"And you too, poor dear," continued Mrs Johnson. "You are to be commended

as well - I know you work hard, what with traveling into London for school every day, and taking care of your mother while she's ill!"

"Thank you for the books, Mrs Johnson," said Petunia, smiling from the praise, "but I do have to run - Lily will be wondering where I am."

"Of course dear - give your mother and sister my regards!"

Petunia backed out of the shop and began the trek home. While she walked she let her mind wander a bit, staring intently on the pavement in front of her. None of her thoughts were terribly pleasant, considering what had been going on recently in the Evans household. Violet Evans, though ill since November, had taken a turn for the worse shortly after Lily returned to Hogwarts. Dr Meuller had finally been called, pronounced it bronchitis and pneumonia, and ordered complete bed rest for two weeks. However, the next day, Mr Evans and Petunia returned from work and school to find Mrs Evans collapsed on the kitchen floor (having disregarded Dr Meuller's sound advice and attempted a chocolate pudding). It was decided that one of them had to stay at home to care for her.

Petunia seemed to be the unanimous choice, although she hadn't had a vote in the matter.

A week of constant care for her mother, including scrubbing the house down until it was shining, was enough to wear Petunia to a frazzle. Though she found cleaning marvellously calming - there is no better way to escape your thoughts than to concentrate on the ring in the bathtub - Petunia herself felt ill. Mr Evans returned from work one day to find Mrs Evans asleep in her bed, heavily medicated, and Petunia beneath the kitchen sink, coughing madly.

Ten minutes later, he borrowed the Pettigrew's owl to send a note to Hogwarts, asking that Lily be sent home for a few days, due to a family emergency. Lily Floo'd into the Pettigrew's home the next morning.

Petunia didn't mind that her sister had been called home. She had finally been able to rest in her own bed, and have someone wait on her. Lily didn't seem to regret being pulled away from classes, either, despite her Head Girl duties or it being her last term of school. She fed Petunia chicken soup, and brought her tea, and let her sleep.

Petunia was brought back to reality when her scarf began to unwind itself from her neck. A normally pleasant walk from High Street to the Evans house, it was much more arduous when one carried several pounds of books in the middle of February. The brisk wind made her nose begin to run, and Petunia thought her ears might fall off. The pile of books began to slip from her grasp, and as Petunia fumbled for a better grip, she ran into another body. The books fell over the pavement, some of them into a bank of snow.

"Oh!" she cried, and fell to her knees to scoop them up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other person kneel as well.

"Let me assist, it was my fault entirely," said a male, somewhat familiar voice, and Petunia looked up to see Vernon Dursley next to her.

"You!" she exclaimed.

"Well, that's a fine greeting," chuckled Vernon. "Though I can't say I deserve more, knocking you over like that. I do apologise."

Petunia just sat in the snow, staring up at him with disbelief on her face. Vernon Dursley knocked me over into the snow, she was thinking. I haven't had a single night where he wasn't in my thoughts, and I haven't heard a word from him since the party, and now here I am sitting in the snow like a baby while he piles books on my lap.

"I - I'm all wet," stuttered Petunia, and then began to blush. Vernon smiled at her, and offered her his hand.

"Well, then, let's get you off the ground, shall we?" he said pleasantly.

Petunia thought in vain of the spot on the tip of her nose, and took the offered hand, thinking of how soft the gloves he wore felt to her fingers. "Let me carry those books for you. You must be a voracious reader, Miss Evans."

"Oh, these are for my mother. She hasn't been feeling well recently, and I was sent to fetch some books for her to read while she's recuperating." Petunia brushed the snow off her skirt as much as she could, and began to walk alongside Vernon.

"Oh, yes, Mr Evans mentioned something last week," said Vernon sympathetically. "I do hope she's feeling better?"

"A bit," said Petunia. "My sister is home from school to help, but she's returning tomorrow morning."

"I didn't know you had a sister," said Vernon casually, and Petunia glanced at him.

"Yes, she's three years older than me. It's her last year."

"And then off to university?"

"I'm not certain," said Petunia, wondering what Lily's plans were. "I haven't asked her, and she hasn't said anything about it. I think she might want to work a bit in London - be independent, and that sort of thing."

"Do you want to be independent?" asked Vernon.

"Not particularly," said Petunia. "I rather liked taking care of the house while Mother was sick. I wouldn't mind doing that."

"It seems to be the thing now for ladies to go into London and find jobs," said Vernon, a bit surprised. "You wouldn't want to do that?"

"No," said Petunia honestly. "Share a flat with three other girls, and flit from place to place, being away from home and my garden? I would hate it."

"You don't like London, then?"

"I don't really know, I haven't been there often enough to tell. I go to school there now, but I see very little of the city, really; it's from Kings Cross straight to Sunbury and no tarrying in between. I only go because it's a terribly good school and I think Papa feels a bit guilty that Lily was able to go away and I stayed home."

"Then you don't really plan to do anything with your education once you're done?" asked Vernon.

"I suppose not," said Petunia. "I don't really know what I want." They stopped at a zebra crossing, and Petunia looked up at Vernon. No one has ever really paid this much attention to what I want - not even Peter. He always told me what I wanted, never asked.

"But we've been talking about me. How do you like Grunnings, Mr Dursley? I promise I won't tell my father!"

"I thought we had agreed to call each other Vernon and Petunia?" asked Vernon, eyes twinkling. Petunia blushed. "I suppose that's what I get for not calling on you after the dance."

"That might be it," said Petunia carefully.

"I apologise for my negligence," said Vernon sincerely. "I'm afraid I've been somewhat occupied with my studies at Grunnings. Your father is a very good teacher. He's taught me a great deal about drills in the last few weeks."

"You like it, then?"

"There is nothing better than a beautiful, perfectly symmetrical circle made by a Grunnings drill," said Vernon dreamily. "Marvelous! Your father has taught me more than I thought there ever was to learn of drills."

"He's always been good at explaining things," said Petunia. "He would help me with my maths homework when I was starting secondary. And he took us to the panto when we were younger, and explained the strange bits to me."

They reached the Evans home, and Petunia stopped at the gate. "Here we are," she said blithely. "Thank you for carrying my books - oh, would you like to come in for a cup of tea? And you can meet my sister Lily, as well."

"I'd like that very much," said Vernon, and he followed her up the walk.

"Lily!" called out Petunia from the hall, unwrapping her scarf and removing her mittens. Vernon set the books down on the side table. "I'm home again, sorry it took so long."

Lily appeared in the door to the kitchen. Petunia was thankful that she was wearing a sensible skirt and blouse, and not her robes, although she did have a rather frilly apron on, and had a bit of flour on her forehead. Her hair was red and messy, falling out of a hastily made ponytail, but her green eyes were shinning.

"Oh, Pets, good, I was worried you might have taken a fall. Hello, you've a friend," said Lily, quite cheerful.

"I did," said Petunia. "Take a fall, I mean. But Vernon helped me up again, and carried the books for Mother home. Did you bake something?"

"Lemon scones. I promised James, they're his favourite, and I can't get into the kitchens at Hogwarts," said Lily, wiping her floury hands onto the apron. "I'll leave some for you and Papa too. Aren't you going to introduce me, Pets?" Lily eyed the guest.

"Vernon Dursley," said Vernon, holding out his hand. "I felt compelled to assist your sister, as it was I who knocked her over."

Lily took the hand, thinking it rather pudgy. "No surprise there," she said with a smile, and Vernon wasn't sure if it was an adverse comment regarding his weight or not. "My, your hands are cold, Mr Dursley, won't you have some tea?"

"Splendid," said Vernon.

"Come right into the kitchen, that way we can chat and I can keep an eye on my scones," said Lily. "Besides, it's much more comfortable than the parlour."

"But, Lily," whispered Petunia, "he's one of Papa's salesmen."

"Oh, Mr Dursley will be so much more comfortable in the kitchen," said Lily, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Petunia gave an embarrassed smile to Vernon, who smiled gamely back. He was a bit miffed at the veiled insult to be shown into the kitchen and not the parlour, but decided to play the game. Besides, the older daughter was much prettier than Petunia, and Vernon wanted to see what to make of her.

"If I could just wash up a bit," he said to Petunia, and she blushed and showed him the small lavatory off the hallway. When Vernon was secured inside, she dashed into the kitchen to find Lily setting the kettle on the cooker.

"Don't tell him anything just yet, Lily, please," she begged her sister. "I haven't told him about magic, and I don't know what he'd think of it."

Lily looked at her sister curiously. "I wasn't going to tell him anything, Pets. I can't go telling just anyone about magic, now, can I? He isn't - a special friend of yours, is he?"

"I don't know," said Petunia. "He's much older than I am."

"About twenty, I would think," said Lily.

"And he's a bit chubby."

"That's putting it mildly."

"But he's very nice, and he pays attention to me."

Lily set down the cups and saucers on the table. "Peter pays attention to you, too, Pets."

"Oh, Peter!" scoffed Petunia. "I haven't a letter from him in three months."

"Three? But he told me he was owling you every week," said Lily, confused.

"And he doesn't pay attention to me anymore," said Petunia crossly. "Vernon - now, he was asking me all sorts of questions earlier, about where I was going to school, and what I thought I'd do once I left. I can't remember the last time Peter asked me what I wanted."

"Peter knows how you'd answer, Pets, he doesn't need to ask," said Lily, a bit worried now. "You can't just tell me you aren't in love with Peter anymore, Pets, when you've been in love with him since you were six. Since you were born, really!"

From the front of the house, the two girls heard the flush from the lavatory. Petunia laid her hand on her sister's arm. "Please, Lily, later," she said pleadingly, and Lily nodded as Vernon Dursley walked into the kitchen.

"Tea will be ready in a moment, Mr Dursley," said Lily, trying to smile cheerily, though her heart was turning circles at her sister's words regarding Peter Pettigrew. "Milk or lemon?"

"Yes," said Vernon. "Both, please."

Just then, a tinkling sound was heard from the stairwell. "That's Mother, she must be awake," said Lily, setting the teapot on the table. "I've been up and down those stairs a dozen times all afternoon; I'll just see what she wants."

"Oh, I'll go," said Petunia, rising. "Perhaps I'll take her some tea and a scone?"

Lily handed her a tray, which was always ready to be brought up at a moment's notice for their mother. "Thank you, Pets. If I had to climb those steps one more time I think I'd - well, never mind. You go." She winked at her sister, and Petunia giggled, knowing full well that Lily had been contemplating using a broom to fly up the stairwell. She took the tray and left the kitchen.

"So, Lily, you're in your last year of school, are you?" said Vernon comfortably, and Lily looked at him, raising her eyebrow at the use of her first name. He was just a bit too familiar with her, for her tastes.

"Yes, I'll be leaving school in June," said Lily, trying to be friendly. "I've had a lovely time, and made many good friends, but it will be nice to be on my own finally."

"You won't be going on to university?"

"No, I won't, at least not at this time," said Lily carefully. "And you, Mr Dursley - "

"Vernon, please," said Vernon.

"Vernon. Did you go to university?" Lily knew perfectly well that first impressions were not always the best (she'd hated Sirius on the spot initially, before learning that he was really a big teddy bear in disguise), but somehow she just did not like Vernon Dursley.

"Yes, until last year. A spanking good time, I highly recommend it, actually. And now I'm out and about and feeling my own way around the world, as it is. You'll be in London?"

"Not quite," said Lily. "And tell me, how do you find Grunnings? I understand you work with my father?"

"Ah! I was only just telling your sister, I find it quite fascinating. Think on it, if you will - every moment pulsing with anticipation; the most careful attention must be paid to the smallest of details. Even the most perfectly hardened drill has trouble without the proper lubrication." Vernon smiled suggestively at Lily, taking up his teacup.

Lily let the comment hang in the air for a moment. I don't believe he - did I hear him correctly? she thought to herself. She jumped up from the table and returned to the oven, where she pulled out a tray of scones.

"I don't know, I find it all quite boring," she said airily, hoping it was just her imagination.

"Boring? I thought so at first, but it's much more exciting when using a large drill to open a small hole for the first time," replied Vernon, and Lily nearly hit her head on the top of the oven. She slammed the oven door and dropped the tray down. The scones bounced a bit.

"How long have you been working for my father, Mr Dursley?" she asked.

"A few months now. The Grunnings dance in December was really the first time I had to socialize with everyone. I was introduced to Petunia there, as a matter of fact," said Vernon. "Quite a dancer, your sister."

"She's young," said Lily shortly. "She's just fifteen, Mr Dursley."

"And you're three years older, I understand?" said Vernon.

"Not that it matters, but yes," said Lily, growing more irritated.

"It does matter," said Vernon. "You're more mature than Petunia, lovely though she is. And you're closer to my own age, as well. Sometimes it can be difficult, with an age difference, don't you agree?"

"I wouldn't know," said Lily. "My James is only a month older than I."

Vernon fell silent for a moment. "Your boyfriend?"

"For the last three years," said Lily. "He'll be continuing his education after June."

"Ah," said Vernon.

"Perhaps, if you feel that such an age difference as the one between yourself and Petunia is too much to overcome, Mr Dursley, you should consider dancing with someone else?" said Lily smoothly, not trying to keep the venom from her voice. I do not want this man around Petunia, she thought firmly. He cannot be anything but bad news!

"Perhaps," said Vernon, sipping his tea. "I shall have to think carefully on it, won't I?"

"You shall," said Lily, and Petunia came back into the kitchen.

"I shall what?" she asked blithely, setting down the tray.

"Have a scone with your tea," said Lily, smiling at her sister, trying to forget the conversation with Vernon. "Did mum take her medicine?"

"Yes, and ate up a scone too. She looks so much better, Lily, I'm so glad you came home!" Petunia threw her arms around her sister in a great hug, and Lily hugged her back tight.

Oh, thought Lily, she's happier than I've seen her in years. If only it weren't Vernon Dursley!

Lily watched as Vernon commenced flirting with Petunia, this time less suggestively. Petunia blushed and shyly looked away, and smiled at him, talking with him more animatedly than Lily had seen her since they were children. Lily herself was more or less ignored, which was just fine with her. She was able to observe them while concentrating on her scones.

After the fourth batch of lemon, she began making blueberry, Peter's favourite.

Poor boy, he's not going to like what I have to tell him, she thought grimly. She thought briefly of making a batch of chocolate chip scones for Sirius, but settled on plain ones for Remus instead. No scones for Sirius, she smiled to herself, if he can't stop tripping Severus Snape up in Transfiguration. My, but Pets and that Vernon get along well. She's

smiling and laughing. I think she likes him more than she'll admit to me. If Petunia likes this boy so much, I hope I'm wrong about him. But then there's Peter. What to do about Peter? Maybe Pets is only playing with Vernon, she's still young, and Peter's away at school. Wait a minute - when did she learn to flirt like that? Those darn magazines! I hope that's all Vermin Turdley has taught her. He was far too suggestive with me, I think. But perhaps I was reading into what he said too much - I've been away from James too long. Lily smiled to herself, thinking of the evening spent in the Astronomy Tower before she returned home, and of James' kisses. Soon she had forgotten all about Petunia and Vernon, and was lost in her own world revolving around the Astronomy Tower.

All too soon, Mr Evans was home, and Vernon jumped up from his seat. "Sir!" he said, startled. "Good evening! I met your daughter in town and she invited me home for tea - I hope you don't mind - "

"He carried Mother's books home for me, Papa," said Petunia. "They weighed a ton, I never would have made it myself."

"Sit down, Dursley, I don't mind at all," said Mr Evans, smiling. "A nice day off, then?"

"Yes, sir, Mr Evans," said Vernon, still standing. "But I should go, let you spend time with your family. Thank you for the scones and the tea."

"You're welcome," said Lily.

"Lily, how many scones did you bake?" laughed her father. "Here, Dursley, take some with you." Lily glared at her father as he scooped up several of the blueberry scones and handed them to Vernon in a napkin.

"Wonderful," said Vernon. He glanced at Petunia.

"I'll show you out," she said, jumping up, and they walked to the front hall, where Vernon shoved the scones in his coat pocket.

"I had a lovely afternoon," he said to her softly.

Petunia looked up through her eyelashes. "Me too," she said.

"I was thinking, I mean if you'd like - I suppose your father has taken to you to the factory before?"

"I don't like the factory very much," said Petunia. "Too much dust and grease."

"Oh. Well ... there is a musicale next week in London."

"Yes, I saw a notice in the bookshop."

"Would you like to go?" blurted Vernon.

"I haven't been to a musicale since I was eight," said Petunia. She glanced at Vernon, who was bright red, and realised her mistake. "Oh! Wait. You were asking me to go with you?"

"Well, yes," said Vernon, still red. "But if you would rather do something else - we could go to the pictures, or a museum - "

Petunia placed a hand on his sleeve. "A musicale would be lovely," she said firmly. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do more."

* * *

Peter was walking towards his next class when he felt the soft hand on his arm. "Peter!" said Narcissa, her voice soft and sympathetic. "I heard what happened in Potions - I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well, who really needs to know how to brew Veritaserum, anyway?" grumbled Peter.

"We haven't really gotten together since before the holidays," said Narcissa. "I do so miss our sessions together - why don't you meet me in the Potions Lab tonight after dinner? We can work together." Narcissa smiled at him sweetly, putting her full effort into drawing him in, and Peter felt his knees go a bit weak.

Gradually, Peter found that he learned at a much faster rate when Narcissa was near him. She taught him all sorts of tricks that helped his spell-casting surge beyond what he had formerly been capable of doing. Peter began looking forward to the semi-regular study sessions he had with Narcissa, not just because he enjoyed the feeling of power when she was with him, but because she was so easy to talk with. While they worked in the library Peter would often tell her during the rest breaks she insisted on about his mother and father.

"My mum's been sending me owl after owl recently," he mentioned one day.

"Oh?" Narcissa's ears pricked up. "She isn't worried over the NEWTs, is she? You'll do fine."

"Oh, I doubt she pays mind to those. No, she's just a bit lonely," said Peter. "The old man has been working insane hours."

"That's a pity," said Narcissa, thinking rapidly.

"She says she is home alone so much during the week, she's thinking of getting a place in Diagon Alley so she can at least see him at meals," laughed Peter.

"Is he traveling?"

"A bit, about once a month, but he's gone for a week or so each time."

Narcissa didn't say anything to this, and turned instead to rustle through her bag. Peter looked curiously at her sudden withdrawal from the conversation. "Cissa? Something wrong?"

"No," said Narcissa, her voice muffled. "I - my father spent a good deal of time away from home as well, you see, before he left my mother for - it's nothing, I'm sure your father is honest."

Peter gulped, and thought briefly of his father kissing his mother goodnight. "I'm sure. I didn't know your father left your mother."

"Yes, they divorced when I was eight," said Narcissa, straightening. "I don't like to talk of it often. He married her, and I don't see them often. She - she's a Muggle, you see."

"Ah," said Peter. "Your father is a wizard, though?"

"Of course!" said Narcissa, her eyes suddenly flashing. "You don't think I'm a Mudblood, do you?"

"No, no," said Peter hastily. "Only - well, I grew up among Muggles. That's what my father does, really, is work with the Muggle government. So we had to pretend we were Muggles when I was a kid."

"That must have been hard," said Narcissa.

"It wasn't terrible," said Peter. "Lily was my next door neighbour, in fact. I played with her, and her younger sister a good deal."

"Petunia?"

Peter blinked. "You know Pets?"

"Yes, I met her over Christmas," said Narcissa. "Very sweet girl, I thought. She was telling me of her boyfriend - "

"Boyfriend?" Peter's voice sounded unnaturally high.

"Vernon, I think she said his name was. Quite handsome, from the sound of it, a bit older and very sophisticated." Narcissa glanced at Peter's stony face. "But enough chat - did you want to try the Nivalus Charm again?"

"All right," said Peter, his voice low. Narcissa placed her hand on his arm.

"Now, remember what I taught you," she said low, close to his ear. "Draw down deep into your thoughts, and you must imagine gathering all that emotion and putting it in the very letters of the charm you are saying."

Peter closed his eyes, and reached deep inside his soul, gathering his feelings. They were in turmoil, twisting and growing dark. Pets is seeing someone else? Dancing ... perhaps even kissing him? What about me, where do I fit in to her romance now?

"Nivalus Tempesta!" he cried, and flung out his wand. A crack of thunder, and then a light snowfall began to cover the library. Other students shouted in indignation and amusement, and Madam Pince, the librarian, shrieked that the wet would destroy her books. Peter opened his eyes and laughed at the pandemonium. Narcissa clapped her hands in glee.

"Peter, you did it! How brilliant of you!"

Peter, on impulse, reached out and grabbed her hands, twirling her around as the snowflakes fell around them. "No, you did this - I couldn't have done it without you," he said, and suddenly pulled her close to him, holding her body against his. "Thank you," he said, his voice low again. He was inches away from her face, and all he could see was her liquid blue eyes, round and deep, looking up at him in admiration and bewilderment.

"Peter, I - "

"Shh," he said, and leaned down to kiss her. He had kissed her in Diagon Alley at Christmas, but that was a brotherly hello. This was deeper, or Peter meant it to be. Narcissa's lips were cold, and still, and Peter soon broke the kiss and let her go. "Oh, god, I'm sorry," he stammered, and grabbed his wand and ran. Narcissa sat back down at the table, and watched him run.

He didn't turn around. If he had, he would have seen her smiling.

* * *

The girl knelt before the Man. She kept her head down in submission.

"Well, Miss de Winter," said the man's voice, silky and harsh. "What information have you for me?"

"There have been numerous meetings between the Ministry of Magic and the Muggle Prime Minister," said Narcissa de Winter from the centre of the expansive room. She recited the information as one would a long epic poem. "The meetings take place once a month and last several days. Sometimes, the participants 'disappear' from London for longer periods of time. My informant tells me that the Ministry of Magic officials are

often frustrated by the Muggles' lack of perception. They seem to feel that these incidents are merely flukes of fate and nothing more."

"Excellent," said the Man, musing to himself. "How does your other project progress?"

"My Lord, I believe it will be successful," said Narcissa. "The chosen one is unaware of how much information he is giving us. When the time comes, the information he has supplied should be sufficient to convince him there is no other choice but to join us."

"And will he join us, my dear?"

"Undoubtedly, my Lord. Each day he grows more fond of the powers I have taught him. I am certain he will find such an offer as yours impossible to resist."

Narcissa fell silent, and the Man continued to gaze upon her. He felt that she was holding something back. "You have more to tell me?"

"My, Lord, I hesitate to burden you with my trivial matters - "

"Nothing is trivial when it involves you, my dear."

"Lucius has been - hinting to me that unless I please you soon that he will be forced to look elsewhere for a wife. Please, I beg you don't let him."

"I will speak to Lucius. But, remember Narcissa, first you must keep your promise to me. My Gryffindor - then your babe. The sooner you complete your task, the sooner Lucius' baser needs can be fulfilled. Now, go."

* * *

Several days later a much chastised Lucius Malfoy owled Narcissa begging her forgiveness for his rude behaviour. His meeting had not been pleasant with his Master. In fact, it had been quite uncomfortable. Bluntly, he had been told to allow Narcissa to do her job and not to interfere again.

* * *

Petunia had a lovely time at the cinema with Vernon. It was their third date in two weeks, and each had been more romantic than the last. He was always the gentleman, holding doors open for her and treating her to flowers and candies. When he returned her home, he had leaned over and kissed her cheek goodbye. She blushed a bit, and squeezed his hand, and had slipped inside the front door, falling onto the staircase, clutching her hands together in pleasure.

She sat there for nearly a minute, enjoying her rapturous review of the evening before she noticed that there was a letter sitting on the side table with her name on it. Recognising the handwriting, she quickly ripped it open.

Dear Petunia,

This week has been terribly busy, what with studying for our final exams, but I knew I had to respond to your last letter. I am so pleased to hear of your recent series of excursions with V. I know how you must care for him -

As Petunia read the words she felt an explosion of good feelings towards Vernon in her breast, and she smiled joyfully to herself, and continued reading.

- and I am glad for your joy. I feel sure that this man is the right man for you, as my Lucius is the right man for me. Although I must admit that sometimes a heart can wander, and I fear for my own. You know that I have been assisting Peter Pettigrew in his studies, and recently I have felt that the way in which he sees me is not altogether an innocent friendship any longer -

Petunia felt a queer sensation in her stomach, as though there were a cord attached there and someone had just given it a nasty shake. She hastily crumpled the letter in her hand, and then spread it back out on her lap, continuing to read.

I feel so pleased for you, and the feelings you have for V, that I must tell you that I know that all will be well for you with him. I am not a Seer, of course, but this I feel quite sure of! I look forward to your next letter; please do not tarry in writing as I have, and do be sure to tell me of your latest adventures with Mr Dursley!

With love, Narcissa

Petunia gently folded the letter again, and slid it into the envelope. She slipped up the stairs and into her room, sliding into her bed finally, lost in thought.

So Peter has his own girl at Hogwarts, she thought to herself. Well then! I suppose it wouldn't matter if I do see Vernon as often as I wish. Perhaps I'll let him kiss me next time, too!

And her mind quite settled, Petunia drifted off to sleep. She never knew that while she slept, Narcissa's letters slowly burnt themselves into a cinder, lest they fall into other hands.

* * *

Narcissa pushed on Peter's chest. "Peter, stop! We have to study."

"Come on, Narcissa. Another minute, then I'll stop, promise," Peter said, barely taking a breath between kisses.

"Peter! What if Lily should walk in? She wouldn't like to find you on the floor with me," said Narcissa. "I think she wants you to marry her little sister someday."

"Pets is a baby still," said Peter, but he moved away. "And she's got her own man now, apparently."

"I'm sorry, Peter, I shouldn't have said anything," said Narcissa after a moment. "I just have never put much trust in Muggles. It's their fault, really, that I - "

Peter glanced at her. "That you?"

Narcissa sighed, and picked at her skirt. "I had measles when I was a child. We were living among Muggles then, and my parents couldn't contact a medi-wizard in time. I nearly died, so I suppose I should be grateful to the Muggle doctor they did find for saving my life. But I can never have children of my own. The disease left me barren. Had there been a medi-wizard available, I could still have babies of my own."

Peter was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said finally.

"So I don't put much trust in Muggles," said Narcissa. "The Muggle doctor said he would make me good as new. He lied, and I hate him for it. Hand a Muggle your heart on a silver platter, and they'll roast it and serve it for breakfast. I know you don't feel that way, Peter, but I do."

She stood and walked to the window, leaning her head against the glass. After a moment, Peter joined her and put his arm around her. "My father said something similar once," he said. "He told me that people are afraid of what they don't understand, and that the one thing Muggles understand the least is magic. He also said that people become violent towards what they are afraid of. I guess it's never safe to trust those who are willing to hurt you for being different."

"I guess not," said Narcissa, and turned to him, a bit of a smile on her face. "Thank you for listening." She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "It must be hard, to learn that the Muggle you trusted has betrayed you with someone else."

Peter felt something in his stomach shift - as though a marionette had taken residence there and begun to dance a jig. He smiled weakly and dropped Narcissa's hand. He changed subjects. "I should owl Mum tonight. She forwarded a package from my father."

"What was it?" asked Narcissa, noticing the abrupt change but deciding to go with it.

"A jersey from Canada." Peter sat at the table and began shuffling through the papers piled there.

"Canada?"

"Yep. He's there for a month or so. I should ask Mum if she's going to take that place in Diagon Alley while he's gone. She feels so adrift in Surrey. No one to talk to, other than that nosey neighbour Mrs Evans. Mum says she is always looking out her bedroom window at our garden and front walk hoping to catch her with some boring conversation."

"It must be hard for her, living among Muggles like that," said Narcissa. "It's different when you're a child, you adapt easily. I bet your Mum can't even Floo to the Leaky Cauldron in case that woman looks in your windows."

"Isn't that the truth," said Peter, bitterness creeping into his voice. "The Evans women are the nosiest people around."

"Peter!" said Narcissa, pretending to be shocked. "You know you're talking about Lily."

"Well, she is a bit of a know-it-all, Narcissa," said Peter, feeling cross. "Always telling me what to and what not to do. She thinks she is my mother sometimes."

"So, when do you think your father will be back? If I were your mother I would have insisted on going with him. Did he get to go by broom or did he have to travel with Muggles?"

"I don't know. I cannot imagine him in one of those metal things."

"Isn't Canada big? I hope he didn't have to fly clear to the other side of it."

"He didn't. Mum said the owl with his message came from Toronto. I feel bad for the owl, a bit - had to rest a week before flying back. Here, can you explain this theory behind the Lumos Spatium Charm? I don't quite understand the expansion part."

* * *

"My Lord, the Ministry is in contact with the Canadian Ministry. The Liaison has been in Toronto for some time."

"Do you know the nature of their meetings, Lucius?"

"Yes, my Lord. They are making a binding agreement to aide each other in the event of 'disruptions' caused by rogue wizards."

"Are they? How amusing for them."

"But, more importantly, the Ministry of Magic and the Canadian Ministry are also making a treaty with the Department of Magic in Washington."

The Dark Lord stood on his dais. "Lucius, come here," he beckoned. Lucius drew closer, falling to his knees as he reached the steps. "I want you to go to Washington for a small task."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius answered.

"I want you to stop the Ministry of Magic's feeble attempts to draw in the North American wizards, at least for a while. Find a safe place to stay until I call you back."

"What about Narcissa, my Lord?"

"Her work is going very well, from what I understand. I would say that by the time you return, you will have a wedding to plan."

"Thank you my Lord." Lucius bowed his head to the floor, smiling.

* * *

May 1976

The train rumbled through the countryside, closer and closer to Surrey. Peter had managed to secure a vacant seat somewhere near the rear of the car, and with enough glaring, had kept it for himself. Now he watched the dark shapes through the window speed past, wishing he could keep his head empty of disapproving voices.

This is a really stupid idea, said the Mrs Evans voice in his head.

Shut it, please, his own voice responded.

She's probably going to slam the door in your face - if you're lucky.

I asked you to shut it already.

If you aren't lucky, she'll be snogging that Dursley fellow.

SHUT YOUR BLOODY PIE-HOLE.

A pause. I'm just saying, is all.

Peter banged his head against the glass. No one else on the train seemed to notice, so he did it again. The cold glass felt good against his hot forehead.

What I can't believe, began the Mrs Evans voice again, is that you ran away from Hogwarts for her.

I did not run away, said Peter to himself. I'm just ... taking a brief leave of absence.

"Little Whinging!" called out the conductor. Peter stood and filed off the train along with the rest of the crowd. Considering it was near ten at night, there weren't too many people about. A good thing, Peter decided. He found a quiet corner and stood for a moment, debating.

To Apparate or not to Apparate? He hadn't actually passed the test yet. He'd been afraid to try, despite Narcissa's help - or perhaps because of it. He was slowly growing afraid of his own powers, since he'd learned where they came from.

"There is no good or evil," Narcissa had shouted at him. "Only power and those too weak to use it!"

"Pithy comments made to soothe your soul," scoffed Peter, and tried to leave the room.

She had grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Is that it then," she challenged him. "Are you too weak? Are you too set in your moral ways to consider that perhaps you've been deceived all along? Are you afraid, Peter?"

Peter glared at her, but the words echoed in his mind. "I'm not afraid to run," he said, but his voice quivered a bit, and she grinned at him.

"Oh, but Peter, you should be," said Narcissa, her grin spreading across her face. In the dim light of the Astronomy Tower, the grin had turned her from the prettiest girl in school to the most evil, and Peter felt a shiver go down his spine. "It's far too late for you to run, little man - He'll find you wherever you go."

"I have friends," said Peter. "I'll be protected by stronger wizards than your Master."

Narcissa laughed. "Stronger? Is that what you have been led to believe? Dumbledore couldn't make you stronger, Peter - but Lord Voldemort did! Where do you think I learned the tricks I taught you? Every time you use your newfound power, Peter, you're pledging your allegiance to my lord. Each day that passes, your connection to Him grows stronger. Your friends won't be able to protect you, Peter - should they even want to do so!"

"You don't know friendship if you believe that a mistake on my part will turn my friends against me," said Peter.

"What will you tell them, Peter? You've already turned traitor on them," said Narcissa. "You've been feeding me information for months. The attack at Downing Street? The raid on the Ministry Headquarters? How do you think the Death Eaters knew to be at these places, Peter? Where do you think we received our information?"

"No," said Peter, backing away. His heart was beating faster; Peter thought it might leap out of his chest. "I don't believe you."

"Don't believe me, then," shrugged Narcissa. "I don't particularly care if you do. It wouldn't much matter anyway; once it's let slip that you caused those attacks - why, I'd like to see what protection Dumbledore offers you then!"

Peter began to shake. "You're wrong. It wasn't my fault! I didn't know you were one of them!"

"Go ahead, Peter, run back to your friends," said Narcissa lightly. "Run back to your Muggle girlfriend, if you think she'll have you. Like a Muggle girl would ever want you as a lover! There's a laugh."

Narcissa began laughing, and Peter felt his stomach twist. "Stop it!"

"Why would she want you, Peter, when she has a very lovely gentleman paying court to her already?" said Narcissa. "He's quite the kisser, from what I understand. Petunia's been writing me about him for months. Of course, I'm sure she doesn't tell me everything. He is a bit older, of course, far more advanced in his love-making skills than you, I'm sure - "

He'd shoved her away from him, and she'd fallen on the stone floor. "You're a liar," he said, trying to make his voice calmer than his emotions. "Just stay away from me. I don't want you and I don't want to be like you." And he'd left the room.

Dammit. He couldn't remember what he'd told her, over the months. And he could barely even stand to use magic, knowing as he did that the increases in his own power could be attributed to her, and thus to Him.

And the worst part was - he had liked the power. He wanted to use it again. He was addicted to feeling as though he could do anything he wanted in the world.

Such as Apparate to Petunia's house.

Once would be all right, said the little voice in his head. This was a different voice, one he'd been hearing for a while now. It wasn't Narcissa's voice - it was deeper, one that Peter was certain he had never heard before. Once wouldn't bind you to Him. And it's such a short ways away - surely you'd like to be there faster?

Peter closed his eyes, and disappeared.

When he opened them, he didn't recognize where he was at first. Peter groaned, and looked around, trying to get his bearing. It took several moments to realise that he had only traveled as far as the opposite side of the train station.

Come now, that's not how we taught you! the voice chided him. Reach deep down, you know how it's done.

Peter closed his eyes again, and tried to pull himself together. He began to slow his breathing, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. With each inward breath, he attempted to pull the power from the objects around him, drawing it into himself. With each exhale, he pushed out his fear and his weakness. Peter gathered the growing magic within himself and rolled it up tight. When he felt that he might burst from the magical centre, he held his breath and ... disappeared.

He opened his eyes to discover that he stood on the Evans doorstep. Somewhere in the back of his head, Peter could hear a low, rumbling laugh, and almost instinctively felt his left arm. There was nothing there - it was still clean and unmarked. Peter sighed in relief. That's the last time, he told himself. No more magic, not until I talk to Dumbledore. Peter reached for the knocker, and then changed his mind and took the doorknob instead.

The door was locked, and Peter groaned. Well ... I can do Alohamora without Him. Peter quickly cast the spell and the door opened. The lower level was dark, but he could hear music playing upstairs. Peter slipped inside and closed the door behind him. He walked up the steps, and the music grew louder. It was coming from Petunia's room, and the door was partially open. He stood in the doorway, and said nothing, watching her.

Petunia was sitting at her desk, head bent over an open notebook, furiously scribbling at something. Peter stood for several minutes, and she never looked up once. He finally cleared his throat to get her attention. She jumped, and looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Peter!" she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing - I - just wanted a word, is all," said Peter.

"I - oh," said Petunia. "Is Lily with you?"

"No," said Peter. "Lily doesn't even know I'm here."

"How did you get in?"

"The door was open," said Peter. "Pets - "

"I thought school didn't end until next week?" said Petunia.

Peter frowned. "It doesn't. I have to go back to Hogwarts tonight."

"Does your mum know you're here?"

Peter glared at her. "You make it difficult for a person to ask a question."

Petunia bit her lip. "You have a question for me?"

"Why else would I be here?" asked Peter, unable to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

"Maybe to - " Petunia didn't finish, and her shoulders shook a little. "Ask then, if there's something you want to know."

Now that the moment was here, Peter didn't know quite what to do with it.

"Lily says you're still seeing that Dursley fellow. Is that true?"

Petunia lifted her chin. "Yes. So what if I am?"

Peter frowned. "Isn't he a bit old for you?"

"Vernon is only twenty-two," snapped Petunia.

"And you're fifteen," retorted Peter. "You should be seeing someone closer to your own age."

"What gives you the right to question who I see?" said Petunia. "My father doesn't mind, nor my mother."

"I have every right in the world," said Peter. "I've known you since the day you came home from hospital."

"You're just jealous that someone else might care for me," said Petunia.

"I am not!" said Peter. "I'm looking out for your welfare, that's all."

"I suppose you think you know a better man for the job, then," snorted Petunia.

"Well - " said Peter. "I was thinking me, actually."

Petunia stared at him. Her stomach was doing very odd flip-flops at the moment, and her heart felt like it had stopped beating. "Excuse me?" she asked faintly.

Peter didn't say anything. He was staring at Petunia's face, which was completely drained of colour, and feeling his stomach drop to his shoes. "Never mind," he said quickly. "It's a stupid idea."

"Yes," said Petunia. Her voice sounded very far away.

"Forget I mentioned it."

"Never heard it uttered," said Petunia.

"I mean, you and me, together - what a laugh!" said Peter, attempting a chuckle and failing.

"Someone ought to submit it as a Monty Python skit," said Petunia.

And then Peter did a very curious thing - he stepped across the room and took Petunia by the shoulders, pulling her in close to him. And he kissed her, quite soundly, on the mouth.

The kiss lasted not quite a minute before Petunia shoved him away and raised her hand to slap him. Both were breathing hard, and Peter's eyes were wild. He looked between Petunia's face and her upraised hand. "Pets, I'm sorry - "

"Sorry?" asked Petunia, stunned. She looked over at her hand, and pulled it down quickly, as if surprised it had even been raised.

"I shouldn't have - I didn't mean to - " Peter continued to stammer, backing away. "I won't do it again." He fled from the room. Great. If she didn't hate me before, she sure does now.

Petunia sat down on her chair, staring at the door. "But I liked it," she said softly.

And then her gaze fell upon the picture of Vernon that sat on her desk. She picked it up and looked at it, biting her lip.

Oh, dear.

Petunia picked up her pen. She placed it on the paper as if to write, but didn't move her hand. Her head was racing, and her stomach felt as though it were being wrung out to dry.

"Oh!" she cried, throwing her pen across the room. "How dare he - how dare he! Come back here and tell me I should be seeing him, when for the last three years he hasn't said two words to me! Oh! That Peter Pettigrew - and Lily! She must have something to do with this, I just know it."

Still furious, Petunia reached for another pen, and grasped a new sheet of paper.

Dear Lily ...

But her hand shook, and she could not write further. Petunia set her head on her arms and cried.

* * *

Peter raced out of the house, intending to run straight to his own house, where he could slip inside without disturbing either parent, and use the Floo to get back to Hogwarts. But he'd barely left the Evans property before he ran head first into the last person he expected to meet.

"Sent you away, did she?" he said with an evil smile. "You expected a kiss and a smile, now?"

Peter glared at the man. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"Narcissa told me you'd come here eventually," said Lucius Malfoy casually. "I thought I might wait around a bit for you, have a word or two."

"I have nothing to say to you," said Peter, and tried to get past the man, but Malfoy held out his hand and Peter found that he couldn't move a muscle.

"Really?" said Malfoy. "I have plenty to say to you. Did you like kissing my girl, Pettigrew?"

"What?" asked Peter, confused.

"Surely you know that Narcissa belongs to me?" asked Malfoy. "You didn't honestly think she was with you of her own choosing! You are an imbecile, aren't you?" Malfoy let out a sharp laugh.

"Shut it," snarled Peter. Narcissa ... under orders? No, she wanted to kiss me, it was she who kissed me first! Malfoy leaned over him until they were nose to nose.

"She was only with you because our Master requested it of her," whispered Malfoy. "She told me only the other day what a pathetic kisser you are."

Peter struggled against his invisible bonds, and Malfoy moved away and laughed again. "Poor Peter Pettigrew. No where to go, no one to turn to. What a sad, pitiful little life you do lead, little Gryffindor. Gryffindor! What a laugh - you really should have gone into Hufflepuff, you poor brainless weak little git."

"The Sorting Hat knows better than you, I'm sure," said Peter through clenched teeth.

"Not even brave enough to tell the girl you love her?" asked Malfoy, and Peter looked away. Malfoy laughed again. "Go back to Hogwarts, Pettigrew. There's nothing for you here. Of course, there's nothing for you there, either. Your friends would leave you if they knew the truth. Where, oh where, is a poor pathetic Gryffindor to go?"

Peter didn't answer, and just glared at Lucius Malfoy with all the hate he could muster - which, at the moment, was plenty. Malfoy stopped his pacing and leaned in close to Peter again. "Why, I do believe I know the answer, Pettigrew. Shall I tell you?"

Peter spit onto Malfoy's face, and Malfoy pulled back with a sneer.

"Idiot," he hissed. "Someday you'll have your come-upance, and I hope I'm there to see it. Try to find your own way, little Gryffindor. You'll come crawling soon enough."

Malfoy winked out of sight, and the moment he was gone, Peter found that he could move again. He stood in the middle of the Evans garden for a moment, waiting. He turned and looked back towards the house, just in time to see the light in Petunia's window go out.

Peter stood for another moment, watching Petunia's window. Finally he looked away, and crept into his own yard and his own house.

I won't go crawling to him, he said to himself. I won't. But as he tossed the Floo powder into the flames, Peter heard the eerie laughter in his head again. When he disappeared into the flames, he was no more certain of anything than he'd been an hour before.

* * *

Peter paced the hallway outside Dumbledore's office. I go in. I tell him everything. He listens. He takes me by the hand ... he takes me straight to Azkaban.

Peter kicked the wall, and cursed, cradling his bruised toe.

I go in. I tell him everything. He listens. He takes me by the hand ... he says it will be all right.

Peter took a deep breath, and looked up at the doorway to Dumbledore's office.

"Lemony Snickets," he said, hoping his voice didn't waver too much. He stepped through the door and sat on the moving stair to wait.

I go in. I tell him everything. He listens. He takes me by the hand ... he calls me a bloody fool and laughs.

Peter sighed, and put his head in his hands.

I go in. I tell him everything -

Peter felt a bump, and opened his eyes to find himself at the top of the stair. He stood and turned, looking at the door that led directly into Dumbledore's office, was about to grasp the handle and open it, when he realised it was already open.

"Albus, I do not understand how you can think this is a good idea," said a voice Peter only barely recognised. Alastor Moody? Thought Father said he was in Germany?

"Alastor, quite frankly, I agree with you," said Dumbledore calmly. "But I do not see that we have any other choice in the matter."

Peter heard a loud thump, which he imagined was Moody hitting the ground with his cane, probably as a way of expressing his displeasure.

"The boy is a Death Eater," snapped Moody.

"The boy is my charge," said Dumbledore quietly. "And I hold myself responsible for his actions."

Peter began to quake. It wasn't possible that Dumbledore already knew about him, was it?

"One spy for us it too many," grumbled Moody. "Do you know the risk you are running?"

"I do, Alastor - I do," sighed Dumbledore. "Trust me when I say it causes me no cheerful dreams, either. I have spoken at length with the boy - "

Peter's hand clenched on the handle as he realised that Dumbledore could not possibly be referring to him.

"You think he is trustworthy?" asked Moody shortly.

"I would trust no other, Alastor," said Dumbledore quietly.

"I trust none of them," snapped Moody. "I would not be so willing to listen to one of Voldemort's minions as you, Albus. This is folly - how can you know that this boy isn't just a pawn of Voldemort's, come to give us false information and return to his master with our own secrets?"

Peter dropped back from the door, shaking. His mind was racing.

"I have put my trust in this boy as I have no other, Alastor," said Dumbledore firmly. "And you may take to heart that I would not trust another. It is quite inconceivable to me that any evil act can be construed as good, no matter the consequence in which that act was committed."

Peter stepped back onto the stairs, still staring at the door. He watched the door slowly disappear as he rode the now descending stairs back to the hallway below.

I go in. I tell him everything. He listens. He ... refuses me.

It was then that Peter knew he was lost.