A Chance You Only Get Once

A Chance You Only Get Once
by Grimm Sister

Chapter One
The Turkey Bowl

The snow was swirling about as if a child somewhere had just shaken the snowglobe that Hogwarts castle and grounds was nestled inside. The Forbidden Forest looked misleadingly sweet with its dark green trees full of pure white snow. Though the snow was not thick enough to cover footprints, only one set marred the white expanse. They led from a figure that from any of the castle windows appeared like a dark spot on the grounds.

Not that many were in the castle to look out the window. Only a dozen or so had stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas break, and everyone but this man was far too busy enjoying a cheery Christmas Eve by the fire to notice the man trekking out across the snow.

He strode purposefully forward, not worrying about being followed as he would have once. He also didn't worry about the time. He had plenty of it, because he planned to visit the memorial before heading to the Womping Willow. The Willow was no place to spend Christmas, but there were memories there. Some of them were even pleasant, and if he couldn't have Christmas with all of his friends, Remus Lupin figured that he might as well celebrate Christmas with their ghosts. If he hadn't taken the potion yesterday, he might even have the chance to see her again.

No matter. He was going to see her now. He walked straight into the forest, not worrying that he left a direct trail to the place. He and Mundungus were the only ones who remembered it now, except perhaps Snape. They were the only ones left to mourn Marissa.

Then he had reached the clearing and was looking at the snow-woman again. How strange it would look to a first year that stumbled upon it in may, a snow-woman standing on the green summer grass. But then, the place was too well protected for that. Lily's handiwork, he remembered, transfiguring the place into an Unplottable location, even on the great Marauder's Map.

But it had been Sirius who remembered the Living Memory Encantation, the kind of spell Marissa herself would have thought up. Sirius. How could he have been so wrong about him? Remus shook himself. He had not come here to think of Sirius, or even Lily and James and Peter.

Remus gazed up at the snow-woman who had Marissa's gentle face, eyes closed in an expression of inner peace. Her head was thrown back into the wind, hair streaming behind it, her arms spread wide to accept the breeze, all in the crisp and sparkling white of newfallen snow. Two other details were different from the memory that had created it. Wings spread back behind her, almost blending with her hair, and her clothes were the garb of angels rather than Hogwarts students. However, a tiny silver prefect's badge stood out on her chest and a scarlet and gold scarf streamed back from one of her hands. Remus smiled slightly although it was sorrow that stole at his heart.

Remus walked slowly up to her and laid a small branch of evergreen at her feet. It immediately started to grow until it formed a wreath around her. Remus stood there for a long moment, as transfixed by her face as he had been when he saw her standing there like this. In their sixth year. But time with Marissa was best measured from one Christmas to the next.

This was Remus's most powerful memory of her, gathering strength and peace from the wind, looking so small and fragile that any moment it would lift her up and blow her away, yet also strong at the same time. There was courage and beauty, and something else on her face as well. Acceptance. An acceptance that he had often wondered about in the years since.

This was the first image that came into Remus's mind at the thought of her, not her screaming at a Quidditch match, or the look in her eyes when she knew his secret, or laughing and juggling in the Common Room, or even the last time that he saw her, stalking off Platform Nine and Three Quarters. All those memories came in quick succession afterward, but this image came first and lingered longest, and in all the long years that had come and gone, it was the only one that had not lost its sharpness.

What better proof was there of that than that the memorial was still as immaculate as the day that they had made it? Just as potent with her peace and their grief?

"Merry Christmas, Riss," he said quietly, hoping that the gentle wind would carry his words to wherever it was that she had gone.

Remus had a few friends that he had made since he lost, one by one and all at once, the friends that changed his life, that gave him a life. All of them had at one time or another asked him why he insisted on living such a lonely life. They thought that he felt guilty for being alive when James, Lily, and Peter were dead. They supposed that he didn't want to inflict his lycanthropy on a wife and children. They thought him broken beyond repair by the losses of the friends who had made his life worthwhile when he was young.

The answer was simpler than that, and Marissa had said it herself long ago. True love is a chance you only get once.

---

"Hm. . ." said a small voice in her ear. Marissa nearly jumped out of her skin, she was already so on the edge her first night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Make that her first night in the wizarding world. "Now there's something I haven't seen before. . .wanted to be a magician before you knew you were a witch? Oh yes, you're a very unique spirit. Now, where is your resting place? Not your home, eh? Is that what you think? Well, I'll find you another one presently. A good mind, but a creative flair and relaxed manner that would be wasted in Ravenclaw. . .definitely not a Slytherin. . .just the demeanor for a Hufflepuff but, ah, what's this? That took courage, young lady. A great deal of courage indeed. That settles it, the place for your is GRYFFINDOR!"

The table on the far left burst into applause as Marissa lifted the hat up over her face. Just before she lifted it fully off, the small voice whispered, "Take care, Marissa Fletcher." Then the Hogwarts Sorting Hat had had its final say.

Marissa bounched lightly forward and took a seat next to Lily Evans who had just been sorted into Gryffindor. Although Gryffindor received four boys that year, it was only those two lionesses who were left to ban together.

And what bound them closest was not similiar disposition, for they were very different, or even necessity. It wasn't even being two of only three Muggle-born girls in their year. It was Petunia and Mundungus. It wasn't hard to get past their difference when they realized that they shared the thing they held closest to their hearts: the love and virtual worship of a younger sibling. It wasn't the Hogwarts Sorting Hat or the close tower room that brought them together in the end, it was Petunia and Mundungus, each of whom worshipped the ground that Lily and Marissa walked on. And Hogwarts was the shrine of those too religions. But Petunia and Mundungus were not the only ones destined to love the two lionesses of the Gryffindor.

* * * Five and a Half Years Later * * *

Her house was not what he had expected, from his blindly wizard point of view. It was unlike any other house Peter Pettigrew had ever seen, excluding the houses all along the same street. It seemed a misnomer - Was that the right word? Peter never knew - for Marissa Fletcher's house not to stand out from its neighbors'. It was not nearly so large as the Lupin Castle but it was far larger than the Black Mansion, which was still saying something. It was also surprisingly quite unlike James's home.

It was elegant, but falselly so. How the almost painfully earnest girl could stand to live in a house with artificial charm bewildered Peter. How could she have learned to be so real growing up in a place full of cement imitations of marble pillars. . .where gargoyle statues had been softened to the point that they were custsy, although Muggles probably thought them quite formidable? And everything was so new. Where would she have learned to love history, even taught by Binns, the way she did? How had she acquired whatever it was that made even his lessons suddenly seem fascinating? Peter could hardly believe she managed to stay awake to hear it in the first place, but when she retold it, even the dullest historical event suddenly felt like they were hearing an epic adventure. She was a story-teller, that was how. But she certainly wouldn't have learned any of it here, where they built false history for atmosphere - the look was what Muggles wanted, not the story behind it.

Peter had time to ponder all this, as well as worry he hadn't gotten the whole knocker thing right, while he waited for Marissa Fletcher to open the door. Truth be told, she almost startled him when she swung the door abruptly open without so much a glow of the fireplace to annouce that she was approaching.

Marissa's crystal blue eyes were dancing as if she had just pulled herself together after laughing. Her grin was broad, her cheeks a bit flushed, and she was pulling a lock of her golden hair back behind her ear. The very sight of her took his breath away and made his heart catch in his chest.

That he expected from Marissa Fletcher. What he hadn't expected, and there was always something with that girl, was for her to be holding a frozen turkey in her hands. She was surprised too, surprised to see him there. "Hello, Peter," and it was clear from her voice that she had been laughing just a moment before. He loved that sound in her voice but hated that it was James and Sirius who usually caused it. "Not to be rude," Peter couldn't imagine it of her, "But to what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

Peter smiled, but raised an eyebrow at her odd phrase. "Yes, I know, the lingo comes with the house," she laughed, opening the door wide to admit him. "So what brings you to my humble home?" Now, Peter thought, he had encountered a misnomer. The place looked even bigger from the inside. His eyes travelled around the foyer growing ever wider. Marble rose up from the floor where it was so polished and set that he was afraid to trod on it, and the least expensive surface was made of fine mahogany. Unlike the imitation style of the house itself, every piece of furniture he laid eyes on was a pricey antique. What was more, even Peter could tell that whoever decorated it had taste. What he didn't know was that it was taste nine years out of style, but then he wouldn't have appreciated the significance if he had.

"Your holiday really all that bad, Peter?" Marissa asked, when his eyes finally came down from the mural on the ceiling and met hers. A slight shock went through him, and he felt himself nodding before he knew what was happening. That was what he loved about Marissa Fletcher. She understood people, even Slytherins, instantly. She knew secrets, and she didn't judge for them. You rarely had to tell her anything, she just understood. James could keep his Lily, gorgeous, brilliant, stunning Lily. Peter found pretty, clever, kind, understanding Marissa infinitely preferable. Lily was amazing, nearly everyone felt dwarfed by her shadow, making her just the woman for James, but Peter loved Marissa for standing beside her and never once feeling too small. Everyone may admire Lily, it was nearly impossible not to, but everyone loved Marissa. She would go among first years, drying tears, guiding them in the shifting halls of Hogwarts, pulling Sickles out of their ears to cheer them up when they were homesick or being teased. She was the only Gryffindor to never get in a fight with a Slytherin, not with words or wands. She turned aside all conflict, she laughed at all adversity directed at her and her compassion drowned any directed at others. Lily may be the goddess of Hogwarts, but Marissa was its angel, and she had touched far more lives.

And now the angel was looking at Peter with a smile on her face, but a sad, sweet smile meant to provide what she surely thought a meager comfort. But it meant far more to Peter Pettigrew than she would ever understand, for though she saw through him with ease, she never realized that she was anything special herself. Wait a moment, saw everything? Peter suddenly felt a sinking of fear. What if she saw how he loved her? How could she miss how he fell over himself to get near her? What if she saw and. . .of course she would be kind about it, but it would still be awful! No, she must never see. But what if she already had?

"Peter?" Marissa said uncertainly, looking at him with concern. "Are you all right? Do you need to talk or - "

"Rissa!" Mundungus's young voice shouted from another room. "It's your turn!"

Peter's eyes were drawn back to the frozen turkey in Marissa's hand, and he wondered anew what its purpose was. The laughing smile returned to Rissa's, his Rissa's, face as she looked in the direction of her brother's voice. "What?" Peter asked, feeling confused. Was this a Muggle thing?

"I'll show you if you're sure you don't need to talk," Marissa said, looking him in the eyes, searching for the answer before he could give it.

"No, not now anyway, I just wanted to be here," Peter said, holding back that he would rather be here than anywhere and that he couldn't have taken another moment in his own house. Marissa seemed to guess the latter, but she did not comment on it, per his wishes.

"Well then come on, before Gus has a cow in there!" Marissa laughed. Peter glanced confusedly at the turkey in her hand. Where they playing some animal game? Wasn't Mundungus nine? A little old for that? Marissa noticed his glance and burst out laughing. She took his hand in her free one and pulled him forward. "Come on, you!" She was still chuckling, at what he wasn't sure, when they reached the room.

Gus ran right up to them. "Riss! I've been waiting for forty-five mintues!" he demanded angrily.

Marissa just laughed, releasing Peter's hand casually. She had never meant anything by it. "Amazing how time flies, eh Peter?" she smirked to him about her brother's exaggeration.

He may be nine, but he was as excited as a six year old in the presence of his sister. "Come on Riss! YOUR TURN!"

"All right, all right!" Marissa laughed, holding up her free hand in surrender. "Have the bottles reset themselves?"

"Um, Marissa, what is all this?" Peter asked, glancing around at the mess of objects around him.

"This," Marissa said as if she were announcing at a Quidditch Match, "Is the Grand Finals of Turkey Bowling!"

"And I'm winning!" Mundungus piped in victoriously, carrying a large frozen turkey of his own.

"Not for long!" Marissa challenged, going to the beginning of what looking like a long trail of slippery carpet. "Let's show him how it's done, eh Gus?" she said with a wink. Then she pulled the turkey back and sent it barelling down the lane, slipping and sliding, to strike the collection of milk bottles at the end of it.

Peter was surprised that they didn't shatter. "What is all this?" he asked.

"Oh, I risked a little magic when I went up to Diagon Alley yesterday," Marissa said, a mischievious glint in her eye. "I put an unbreakable charm on the milk jugs and poured an extra-slippery potion onto this old piece of cloth this morning after taping it to the floor."

"But what - why?" Peter asked, none of that making sense to him.

Marissa shook her head, muttering, "Purebloods." Then she smiled, "It's a sport, called bowling. You use a ball to knock over some pins, but we're short an alley and all the equipment so. . .we're making do!"

"This is even better!" Mundungus said excitedly, rushing to reset the bottles so that he could have his turn. "I'll show you how it's done!" Peter wondered if Mundungus ever calmed down while he was around his sister.

In the meantime, Mundungus was hurling his own frozen turkey down the slippery lane, sucessfully knocking over every single jug. "YEEEEES!" he shouted, jumping up in the air so high Peter almost thought he was taking off on a broom.

What surprised him was Marissa's reaction. She let out a whoop of excitement and cried, "You got a strike!" She ran over and hugged him, lifting him slightly before setting him down again. They both started jumping up and down, pumping the air with their fists like a bizarre war dance. It was at this point that Peter was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable in the Fletcher house. Marissa noticed this after a moment. She was still beaming when she turned to him, "Why don't you try it, Peter?" she asked, moving down the lane and starting to reset the bottles.

A moment later she returned, holding the frozen turkey. "What do I do with it?" Peter said, taking it uncertainly.

"You get it straight back to the freezer if that is my GOOD TURKEY, MARISSA JANE FLETCHER!" a woman said, coming in from another door. She had on a starched apron with a candy cane pattern that was slightly dulled in places by a sprinkling of flour. She had her hands on her hips and was looking very stern, but not in the way that Professor McGonagall did. She looked more matronly.

"I don't have a death wish, Mavi!" Marissa replied with a laugh. "Your Christmas turkey is safe and sound," she assured her.

"All right then," she said, eyeing her shrewdly but smilingly. "Whatever it is you're doing, just clean it up when you're done," she sighed a long-suffering sigh, shaking her head. In the process, her eyes fell on Peter. "Marissa Jane Fletcher!" she shouted, again flaring up like an indignant matron, "Why didn't you tell me that we have company?"

"This is Peter Pettigrew, Mavi," Marissa said. "He's a friend from school. He just dropped in."

"Well, Master Pettigrew, you'll be wanting to stay to supper no doubt?"

"Oh you really should," Marissa replied instantly. "Mavi's cooking is second to none, not even the Hogwarts feasts are so delicious," she insisted.

"Now don't think you'll be buttering me up with all that, Miss Marissa, I know you're planning to stick me in the oven and fry me up good one of these days every time you start in with that," she replied, smiling nevertheless, wiping her hands on her apron. "Make sure you set Master Pettigrew's place at the table, Dung," she added to Mundungus as she turned and swept out of the room.

"Nice to meet you Mrs Flectcher!" Peter yelled after her awkwardly.

"Mavi's not our mother," Mundungus replied as if this should have been instantly apparent. "She's our cook."

"Ah, does Marissa Jane Fletcher have a Muggle version of a house elf?" Peter asked, turning to her with a rare mischievious glint in his eye.

"No I most certainly do not!" Marissa replied, her eyes flashing. Peter was suddenly nervous. He had never seen Marissa angry before, but she looked close to it now. "We pay Mavi, we respect her, we treat her like a person, like part of the family - "

"That just happens to wait on you?" Peter challenged, not quite ready to be abashed.

"For which she is paid and she is in no way forced to do! It's her job not her life!" Marissa shot back, growing angrier and angrier.

Peter decided that this was a good time to back down. "So. . .so should I just throw it down there or what?" he said, nodding to the frozen turkey in his hands.

Marissa sighed, the fight going out of her instantly, no resentment remained. Yet another reason to love her. A few minutes later, the three of them were laughing uproariously as Peter tried, yet again, to score a strike. "I'm never going to get this!" he cried in frustration as his turkey slid too far to the right, only knocking down four of the ten jugs.

"Marissa, can I go back to Hogwarts with you?" Gus asked suddenly, turning to his sister.

Marissa froze, looking shocked. She turned to face him very slowly. "Um, Gus, I don't know if. . .You know you'll get to come when you're eleven. . ." she struggled to find something to say.

"But Lily's sister never got to go!" Mundungus pointed out. "What if I'm like her? What if I can't go? Can I please come now? Just for a visit? In case I never see it?"

Marissa had her mouth open, searching for words to answer his question when the storm broke out.

"WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE?" a tall man in his late forties came storming into the room, a vein already popping in his forehead just at the sight of them.

Marissa and Mundungus both jumped and spun around, looking stricken. "N-nothing, Daddy," Marissa stuttered out, her voice betraying her. Peter stared. He had never seen Marissa Fletcher be afraid of anything, even nervous.

"Don't you stand there in the clothes I put on your ungrateful back and lie to me, Marissa Fletcher," Mr Fletcher snapped, taking a step toward her menacingly.

"I'm not lying, Daddy, we're going to clean it up," Marissa insisted, her voice shaking. She appeared to be struggling to stand her ground. The girl who out-stared Slytherins when they were throwing terrible diatribes at her was almost visibly shaking in the face of her father's fury. "We were just - just having some fun. . .playing. . ."

"Playing?" Mr Fletcher demanded, by no means seeming pacified. "You missed Mundungus growing up and you're forcing him to relive it for you?" he shouted at her. Marissa looked like she was going to cry, trying to protest but nothing was coming out. "You can't dress him up like a little puppet! You made your choice! You walked out on this family, and you can't have that back whenever it pleases you!"

"She didn't walk out!" Peter shot back, anger coursing through him, taking a step toward the man who was almost a foot taller than him.

"And bringing your little freak boys into my house!" Mr Fletcher roared, his eyes bugging out as he spotted Peter. "I have very few rules for how you conduct yourself at that school, Marissa Jane - "

He had gone too far in everyone's opinion. "Jerome Fletcher!" Mavi called, coming in from the kitchen, looking stern. "How dare you!"

"I am your employer and you have stepped outside of your authority," Mr Fletcher said to her, not to be pacified. Mavi shut her mouth but stood there looking defiant. Mr Fletcher raised his eyebrows at her pointedly and she huffily spun on her heel and returned to the kitchen.

"Peter's just my friend, Daddy," Marissa said, sounding like she was pleading with him, her voice tight to repress her sobs. "He came by because it's Christmas and he's - "

"Taking in wounded puppies again, Marissa?" Mr Fletcher demanded, shouting over her and making her jump again. "Bringing them in to shit in my house. Truth be told I don't really expect any better from you, off at that freak school most of the year, what would you know of how things are at home? What do you care about us here? But you, Dungus, you should know better you little - "

The moment that he turned on Mundungus, Marissa moved in front on him, pushing him behind her as if to protect him from his father's words. He didn't peak out from behind his sister as his father continued to rail at them. Marissa suddenly looked much stronger, determined. She could defend Mundungus even if she couldn't stand up to him for herself.

"Oh, isn't that sweet," he said sarcastically, taking a step towards them. Marissa, this time, stood her ground. "But you aren't here to protect him all the time, Marissa. You're off at that freak place, and what do you care about Dungus then? I'll tell you what, nothing. And that's all you are to this family, nothing. I don't know why you even bother coming home on holidays. You abandoned us. And now Dungus is all mine. So don't you go through this charade of acting like you care about him when it's convenient to you then leave us like you always do."

With that he strode from the room. Marissa closed her eyes and a tear leaked out of one of them and slid quickly down her cheek. Peter stared at it in horror. He had come to her because he needed to have a happy moment, a friendly face, even a glimpse of what a familiy should be. But Marissa Fletcher came from a broken home too.

"Yes," she said softly. For a second Peter wondered if he had said that aloud. Then he realized that Mundungus had poked his head out from around her and was looking up at her expectantly. "Yes, you can come to Hogwarts with me," she said even more softly. She opened her eyes to see excitement growing on Mundungus's face.

"Riss, are you sure about this?" Peter asked, the words bursting from him before he could stop them. "I mean, how are you going to pull this off? And what if they call it kidnapping or something? So much could go wrong - "

"If I have to drop out of school and get a job he's not spending one more day alone in this house with that man!" Marissa cried, drowning him out.

Peter was staring at her in awe. "Will you tell on me, Peter?" she said with a small smile, her first since her father's entrance.

"Would you really do that?" Peter asked her, staring at her with new feeling welling up in him. Even greater admiration than he thought it was possible to feel. "Give up on all your dreams for your little brother?"

"I'd fight off a pack of Death Eaters," Marissa said, turning to look him in the eye. "Loyalty, that's what really matters in the end. It's the difference between a monster and just an enemy. The highest virtue and the hardest thing to get back if you've lost it."

Peter met her eyes steadily, knowing it would never forget her words. "I wish someone felt like that about me," he said in a very small voice.

To his great surprise, Marissa smiled, "You're smart, Wormtail, smarter than any of those boys or your parents give you credit for. Surely you don't believe that no one loves you. You must never believe that, Wormtail." She was looking him in eye. Peter felt raised a few notches, as if he suddenly had more worth, at least in her eyes.

Then he realized something. She had never called him "Wormtail" before. In fact, she never called any of the Marauders by their chosen nicknames. She barely called anyone by a nickname, derogatory or otherwise. Gus and Lily (or rather Lils) were just about the extent. What did this mean?

Whatever it did, Peter knew that he would never forget it.

If Marissa realized what a significant moment it was for him, she smiled just as if she had pointed out that the sky was blue. She walked over to him. "Thank you for defending me," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek in gratitude.

He wasn't even aware of doing it, but he turned his head so that she met his lips instead. For half a second, Peter was in heaven. Then it was over.

She cleared her throat softly and took a step away pointedly. She appeared to be chewing on her lip, trying to think of a way to say the fatal words. Peter didn't care which one she chose, it meant the same thing to him. Disappointment sank deep into him.

"You're a good friend, Peter, but I didn't lie to my father a moment ago," she said softly.

"Yeah, I got that," Peter said stiffly. "I think I'd better go now." He dropped the turkey and hurried out toward the foyer again.

"Peter!" Marissa called after him, appearing in the doorway just as he opened the front door again. "I wasn't lying about Mavi's cooking either. . .you should stay. . ."

Peter gave a half-hearted smile. "Merry Christmas, Marissa. See you and Dung on the Hogwarts Express."

©KatyMulvaney12-29-2003

Posted: 10/29/2004