Another Rung on the Ladder

Chapter Three

Imagine if you'd never seen colours, and someone showed you a rainbow.

Imagine if you'd spent your life alone, and someone showed you what friendship means.

"Oy Wormtail! Where are you going?"

Peter looked back sharply at Sirius as he called out, then grinned nervously and gestured towards his flying robes. James, who had been lying in front of the fire and reading a book on transfiguration, shot up and looked at him.

"Don't tell me you have an extra flying lesson again?!" he asked incredulously. "It has to be the... what, the fifth? In just two weeks! Man, are you getting worse, or why the hell do you have so many additional lessons?"

"Nah," grinned Peter, picking at his nails. "It's just that I've been having lots of free time lately, and I'm using it to take all these additional lessons so I'll get better and be done with the blasted subject earlier."

"Smart," nodded Sirius, and James seemed to be satisfied as well.

"Right. See you later, then."

"And say hello to Whizzie for me." That was Remus, looking up at him over the rim of his Astronomy chart. He gazed searchingly at Peter for a moment or two, but the looked back down again, smiling. "Old man seems to be getting even more airy-fairy lately."

"So true!" barked Sirius. "You should have heard him the last lesson, Prongs - be like the kite that strives to get high into the air, strives to get away from the string that binds it to this earthly world and yearns for its long-sought freedom... Merlin, he's worse than Madam Lunar."

"Don't know why he bothers with all that crap anyway," said James lazily, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again. "I mean, I just get on my broom and tell it where to go, I don't hang around thinking all this mysticism shit about being a bird and stuff."

Peter left then. It was no secret that Sirius envied his friend's flying prowess, and he easily blew his top when he was reminded of it. If James kept talking, Sirius would not be happy. And when Sirius was unhappy, he all too often took it out on his smallest friend. This was something Peter did not want to be caught up in, yet again. He'd be late. So he exited the portrait hole before Sirius had time to delay him, walked briskly down the corridor, ducked into an alcove briefly to avoid Peeves - who he was dead scared of - hurried out into the ground and towards the Quidditch changing rooms. Then he walked past them, into a small clump of trees that stood separately from the Forbidden Forest.

"Hi," he said, sliding James's Invisibility Cloak (which he'd temporarily stole- borrowed) off his backpack that was crammed with books. "Sorry if I'm a bit late, had to hide from Peeves while he tattooed all the suits of armour."

Severus looked up from his Charms book, and smiled. "That's quite alright," he said. "I've just been reading up on that Charm you said you had problems with. I think I can see what you're doing wrong."

"Oh, really?" Peter dropped to his knees, looking excited. "I even asked Remus on that one and he couldn't help."

"Nah... it's not easy to see where you actually went wrong. But here, you said Potter ended up looking like a chicken when you tried it in class? Well personally, I would have said that was a very effective Charm..."

Peter laughed. "Yeah, that's what happened," he confirmed. "James wouldn't talk to me for a week. Of course, he couldn't talk for a week, so it wasn't necessarily only because he was mad at me."

"Ah, the joy..." sighed Severus. "A whole week without his voice jarring my ears... are you sure you want me to teach you the right way to do the Charm? Because I wouldn't mind if you got it wrong again..."

"Kind of agree with you, but I have a test coming up," grinned Peter. As always, the nervousness and eager to please clashed with the true happy feelings, and the smile flickered like a Muggle light bulb improperly screwed into its socket. "And Flitwick's great, but he's a right bastard when it comes to marking tests."

"You don't have to tell me." Severus shuddered. "So, anyway, I think the problem lies in the first word, Paletta. The whole charm is Paletta Luminae, and is supposed to enhance colours. I can't think why he wanted you to use that on your class mates, by the way."

Peter blushed.

"I was actually aiming for the painting behind James," he muttered.

"Were you really?"

"Yes! OK," he added as Severus raised his eyebrows, "so I was a little less careful than I could have been. I would have liked to see what colours the charm would enhance on James."

"Ugh, don't talk about it!" Severus exclaimed, making the other boy grin again. "Any blacker and that hair would be unbearable! Even as it is we're swamped with starry-eyed nonsense about inky-coloured locks as dark as midnight... and I have to say I know quite a lot of things that are prettier than ink... but let's get back to the Charm. I think your problem is simply bad pronounciation. Here, I'll show you..." He took a drawing of a young boy from his pocket. It was a quick sketch but the face was easy to recognize as that of a Slytherin Second Year.

"Little bugger's called Potts," Severus explained, noticing Peter's curiousity. "A distant cousin of mine - asked him to stand for a portrait and he was dead chuffed. Come on, I want you to try and cast the Charm again, on this drawing."

"O - OK." Peter glanced nervously at him and then raised his wand. The drawing yawned, looking balefully at him and mouthing something quite offensive about Gryffindors. "P-pouletta Luminae!"

The drawing squawked loudly and for a moment the parchment turned yellow as feathers flew everywhere. When they settled there was a ruffled and angry-looking chicken in place of the Slytherin boy, somehow managing to convey that if it had not been inconvenienced by way of beak, the earlier comment about Gryffindors would just have been considerably extended.

"Yeah, that what I thought," nodded Severus. He took the drawing, muttered a Counter-Charm - he'd asked in the sickbay what they had used to get Potter back to normal - and handed it back to Peter. "You pronounce the first word completely wrong. It's not Pou-letta, it's Pa-letta. Paletta - got it?"

"Pa-letta," said Peter obediently.

"OK, good." Severus pointed at the parchment. "Try it again, and don't stutter."

The drawing looked apprehensively at Peter as he raised his wand again, and said the incantation: "Paletta Luminae!"

"Good," said Severus appreciatively, looking at the sketch which was now glowing with colours. "That's a very nice one - you're good at it, once you get your mouth around the words. He has sandy hair just that colour. You brought it out really well."

"Wow," said Peter and stared in amazement at the parchment (where Potts-the-drawing was now looking at his shirt and nodding to himself). "I didn't know this charm could do that."

"Well, it's mostly used for portrait repairs - when they're getting old and need colour renewing - but it can be used to bring out colour in a black and white picture too. I use it on the Daily Prophet 'cause I like looking at the photos in colour better." Severus grinned.

"That's cool." Peter was still looking at the drawing in admiration. Possibly this was the first time a charm had worked that well for him. "I think I know why I got it wrong now - practised with Seanally, him from somewhere up the country. He has a funny accent."

"Don't practise with him again," said Severus firmly. "Hey, I was wondering... about that Transfiguration assignment we just got - couldn't understand a word she told us about those new Switching Spells. Could you go through it with me?"

"Oh, they're simple, really." Peter beamed, pleased to be able to help. "You see, the thing about them is..."

...and so passed another afternoon, happier than many days.

.........................................................

"So when do we get to meet her?"

"What? Ah!" Peter fumbled with his plate and dropped it upside down, right onto the white linen table cloth. He quickly searched for his wand, feeling his face heating up dramatically as James and Sirius laughed, but Remus had already turned the plate the right way up again and cleaned up the mess with a quick spell. "Uh, thanks..."

"No problem," said Remus and kept eating as if nothing had happened, an open Hogwarts: A History on the table beside him. Peter breathed out in a sigh, hoping that the accident would have been enough to distract Sirius from the question he had just asked.

No such luck, however.

"That girl you've been meeting with, of course!" grinned Sirius, leaning forward to cuff him over the head. "You've hardly been around at all for the last couple of weeks! And face it, man - that "flying lessons" excuse was rather shallow. Worked for two weeks or so, but you can't hide from us! So come on, spill - what's she like? Is she pretty? What House? Smart? Probably not, since she chose you, but... ow! Moony, what the fuck?" He grasped at his shin, glaring at his friend in irritation.

"Oh," said Remus calmly, looking up from his book with a surprised expression. "Sorry, Padfoot."

"What's with that innocent sorry? You kicked me on purpose, you dick!"

"Sorry."

"Don't give me your sorrys!"

"Sorry."

"Aaaaaah! Shut up!"

James was laughing, poking at Sirius to make him yet madder. Remus was smiling, with just a hint of smugness. And Peter let out the breath he'd been holding, feeling very relieved and thankful that Sirius had been distracted. At the same time he felt like imitating Remus's behaviour and kick the insensitive bastard where it really hurt - "Probably not, since she chose you", what kind of thing was that to say to a friend? If you could even consider them to be friends, that was. Peter did everything to gain their favour, but did he ever get anything in return?

"Oy Prongs, it's Snapey," said Sirius suddenly, stopping his abuse of Remus. James turned in his seat and smiled broadly.

"HEY!" he called, in a voice that carried far across the Great Hall. "Snapey! Why so late? You shouldn't miss dinner, you know. If you get any more scrawny Hagrid will mistake you for one of his Halloween decorations!" Many people laughed at this, remembering the strange dolls Hagrid had hung up the year before - thin, wraithlike figures with rags for clothes and stitches across their necks and mouths. Severus didn't stop, and gave no sign that he'd even heard the Gryffindor's jibe.

"You been working on the Transfiguration assignment or something?" James continued. Half the Hall was now watching the exchange, with anticipation or (as most of the Slytherins) worry. "That'd good, Snapey! Attach your short-comings head on, that's the best approach. You might even scrape a D if you keep at it with those Switching Spells!"

Severus halted for a second, his shoulders tense. Peter could imagine how confused he would be feeling, how he would wonder why James knew about his aversion to Transfiguration in particular. He sank lower in his chair, praying that Severus would not glance his way. But the scrawny kept walking calmly towards the Slytherin table, shrugging at his housemates who laughed. James bristled.

"Hey Snapey!" he called. "You're being rude, you know - aren't you even going to answer me? It's not nice to turn your back onto people, didn't your mother teach you that? Well alright, guess a mother like that couldn't teach you much, could she..."

There was a crash. Severus had just been about to sit down when James called out, and it seemed like he had fallen over, overturning the bench as he did so. Several other students tottered and fell with it, except for a few who were quick enough to get to their feet. Plates crashed to the floor, students lay in messy heaps beside the table and the confusion was enormous. The entire Hall roared with laughter.

Two Slytherin boys took hold of Severus, lifting him to his feet, but Peter knew they were not only helping him up. They kept the grip on Severus as he sat down again, restraining him from rushing straight across the Hall. And Peter knew why, too. He knew why the remark had stung Severus so, knew how it reminded him of his mother, helpless in a corner while his father hit her face again and again, screaming names at her - Whore! Bitch! Leg-spreading fucking tramp! He knew why Severus was shaking with fury as he reached out for a plate and angrily shrugged the two boys' hands off. He knew why every insult that James threw out hit its mark.

Peter knew, because he had told James what to say.

.........................................................

I hate them I hate them I hate them more than anything in the world... Severus chanted his mantra to himself, over and over until his head spun. They touched at every sore spot he had, the two Gryffindors, picked at the scars he was desperate to forget, to leave alone until they healed completely. Instead they were torn open again, time after time. Why? How could they always know what would hurt him the most? These past few weeks they sometimes seemed like they read his mind, laughing and picking a random memory, a weak spot, to torment him with for the day.

And Peter did nothing. He was so weak, so scared of them, would never dare to defy the stronger boys. To stand up and say "No".

...Lupin had done so. Several times, he'd stopped Potter and Black as they went at Severus with taunts and hexes, breaking both his spirit and his body. And Severus had pushed him away, throwing words in his face to hurt him. Wolf. Half-human. Monster. He didn't want the help of a person so strong in himself - it was not help to an equal, it was pity. Severus could not take pity. That broke him more than anything else.

He wanted the friendship of someone who was himself weak. Someone who did not pity him because they had to, but felt his shame because they knew it too. Someone who was like him. Someone like Peter.

But what Severus didn't know was that Peter wanted the opposite. He wanted someone strong to be his friend, to lift him up to breathe the air of higher places. He did not believe in his own power, but wanted the help of someone else's. And to get that help, he would do anything.