Visitors

We met in a pub in Knockturn Alley.

No, don't get me wrong, I'm not the kind of person who thinks that hanging around Knockturn Alley is the ideal pastime. We Blacks don't have to show our commitment in such an obvious manner, so we never go there unless it's necessary.

It was. I was there on my Master's mission. Nevertheless, my contact never showed. I guess I felt a bit weary afterwards, and decided booze would be the right counter-potion.

An unexpected person arrived in the pub. I felt a little lonely after so many hours without the conversation I'd expected, so I instantly waved him to my little corner table.

He didn't recognise me at first, but maybe I can't blame him. I was a withdrawn teenage boy when we had last met. Finally, a smile appeared on his face as he remembered.

"Regulus... Regulus Black. It has been so long since... Um, it's nice to see you."

He - Peter Pettigrew - had been one of my brother's friends at school. A bloody Gryffindor, like all of them were. He wasn't perhaps the worst of them, though. At least he had been the only one who had still occasionally talked to me even once they all knew how much my brother hated me.

I offered him a drink, and after some hesitation, he accepted it. Now, Knockturn Alley was not exactly the best place to run into old school friends these days. That street does have a certain reputation. If you visited there, you were either desperate or the Dark Lord's supporter. It didn't bother me much; we Blacks tend to have a dark reputation regardless of who we associate with. Pettigrew seemed more like the desperate kind than a fellow Death Eater. Secretly I was wondering what he was doing in that smoky little pub, but after a while the answer seemed quite simple. He had come there to get drunk, out of the eyes of anyone who knew him.

Well, there was me, of course, but after each drink my presence seemed to bother him less and less. Soon we were having a conversation that was perhaps a bit drunken, but decent nonetheless. Actually, it felt quite nice to speak with someone who didn't loathe you, and didn't know all your dark secrets either.

"Have you seen Sirius lately?" I found myself asking at some point, and could have instantly slapped myself. Idiot! He means nothing to you any more!

"We see each other every now and then. He's okay, I guess. A bit distressed these days, but then, who isn't? He never talks about you, though."

"Of course he doesn't; he thinks I'm as bad as the rest of the family," I jeered. I was angry to myself to start in about Sirius, but my heart was happy to hear he was okay.

"You're not bad."

"What?" I snapped. "You don't know me, Pettigrew."

Peter shrugged, and for a while I thought I had gone too far. I wasn't used to decent conversations. For so long, it had mainly been orders and commands. I realised I'd forgotten what it was like to talk with a friend.

"But I know you, Regulus Black. I know you never teased me because of what I am. You know... fat, and stupid, and..."

"Fat and stupid? Why are you mocking yourself like this? So what if you're a little overweight? Honestly, who cares? And when it comes to your intelligence, you're not dim! Remember that time with my Potions essay and..."

"You were a year younger than me, it wasn't that difficult..."

"That's not important. The important thing was that you did it. I was lousy in Potions, and no one else had ever time to help me out. You just have a low self-esteem."

We stayed silent for a long time, sipping our drinks. So Pettigrew doesn't think I'm bad, then? For some reason his words had oddly disturbed me; I wanted to shock him out of his sympathy. I played with the idea of revealing him my Death Eater status, but of course that's something I wasn't allowed to do. The only ones who knew about it were my parents, but they were a special case, of course. The less people knew, the better, at least for the time being.

"I might be a bad guy. Doesn't Crouch say that anyone can be a Dark wizard nowadays. I'm hanging around Knockturn Alley, you see." Now that was said obscurely enough!

Peter didn't answer. He must have thought I was joking, or maybe he just didn't care. I left him alone for a while. Both of us had already had a few drinks, and my thoughts felt a little more blurry than usual. Perhaps it would have been best to leave then.

But I stayed.

It became more and more evident that something bothered Pettigrew, and that something wasn't me. He was so nervous that every noise in the pub made him jump - and the pub was not a quiet place. Once he even spilled his drink. When I studied him more closely I could notice the dark rings around his weary, watery eyes. There was a look of a hunted animal in those eyes. Who was he afraid of?

I was starting to ask, but he shook his head disapprovingly. I let him be, but soon I felt something -someone- touch me. Peter had put his hand gently on my forearm - the forearm that bore my Master's mark, in fact. I flinched, sure, for a moment, that he knew, but he couldn't. It had to be nothing more than a coincidence.

It was strange to be touched like this - caressed, almost. Shocked, I realised that it had been so very long since I'd been touched by anyone other than two select people - my mother, and the Dark Lord. Now I felt the touch of Pettigrew's hand, and shivered. It felt different. Intimate.

"Don't mind my problems," he muttered. "Just stay with me."

"Pettigrew..."

"Please, call me Peter."

I felt a strong desire to kiss him, there and then. A new kind of connection was formed between us. Peter must have felt it, too. He looked even more nervous, but he was smiling, and that smile began slowly to melt the resistance the Dark Lord had helped me to build. At the moment, I wasn't particularly worried of my vulnerability. When Peter suggested I come and visit for a few days, I surprised myself by accepting the invitation, with unexpected lightness and warmth in my heart.

* * * * *

I was fourteen when I realised that I liked boys. My first crush was Rodolphus Lestrange, back then a fifth-year Slytherin, but it became soon clear that he was positively straight. There were other crushes, too, but I'd never had a real boyfriend. Later, the Dark Arts became more important in my life than romance ever could. As I succumbed to my Master's service, all my devotion was reserved for him. Afterwards, the only thing that mattered was my Master, and there was no time, or need to be in love or loved any more. I learned love and compassion were feelings that weakened my Dark magic. Soon I had managed to isolate and control all my feelings. I thought I was doing pretty well. Until...

...Until that unexpected meeting in a pub in Knockturn Alley. It had awakened something inside me. I think it was perhaps not love, but rather a desire to be able to feel love again. The feeling oddly scared me, but it was intriguing at the same time. I decided I wanted to stay with Peter, at least for a while.

I had stayed at Peter's cosy little cottage for five days - five days that were probably the most extraordinary days of my life. The Dark Lord didn't call me once, which was a little unnerving, for I hadn't returned to report on my mission to him. Everyone needs a vacation sometimes, I tried to soothe myself. The Dark Lord never asked me to report back instantly. I'll stay here just for a couple of days. My mission wasn't that important. He will understand that. I found myself oddly reluctant to return to my Master, but currently I tried not to think about it. Instead, I studied Peter.

After the booze had worn off, Peter appeared to find my presence in his house somewhat uncomfortable at first. I wonder if he briefly regretted the whim that had caused him to invite an almost-stranger into his solitary world. But as he noticed I was not going to laugh at him, he relaxed. I think there was a certain amount of exhibitionism in this odd whim of his. He showed me how he lived, and told me about his interests, his opinions and desires. He watched my reaction as if he'd wanted a second opinion on his life. All the time, though, I had a feeling that the real question hadn't even been spoken yet.

What are you so afraid of, Peter Pettigrew?

When he showed me his photo album, my heart felt heavy when I saw pictures of Sirius sulking at me. But if Peter thought I wanted to talk about my brother he was mistaken. I wondered what would happen if Sirius arrived at the Pettigrew House while I was there, but no one visited the house during my stay there. No one even sent Peter a letter. I wondered what had happened to the close friendship of their school days. Maybe it was just a natural occurrence when one grows up. I couldn't know. My own life had been so different from my brother and his obscenely happy crew.

We made trips in the countryside. For me, the countryside was a wholly new experience, as was having a walk without destination. I was an urban wizard, and I never walked anywhere if I could avoid it. Walking was for Muggles, for Merlin's sake! I always Apparated, and before I was able to do that there was always the Floo network, or I had a Portkey available. Heck, because of the lack of exercise I had to use a Potion my mother showed me to control my weight. I should tell Peter about that Potion, I thought, or maybe not. I like him just the way he is, and the side-effects can be rather nasty. Anyway, now Peter took me to long walks, and soon I had to admit I actually enjoyed them.

We left before midday, after a rich and tasty breakfast Peter made for us. (It was unnerving at first to notice that he had no house-elves to do the unpleasant work.) I had forgotten how good a breakfast could taste. Peter was full of stories of people he knew, or someone I knew, or both. Some of the stories were amusing, some were not very pleasant, and some of them I really wouldn't have wanted to hear, like what happened to the McKinnons, because I knew more than enough about their fate already. Peter talked, either to forget his nervousness around me, or to see my reactions, or possibly just to entertain me. I never told him, but I loved the stories of my brother best.

Peter was such an observant person.

Peter insisted that we wear Muggle clothing outdoors. I felt stupid in those garments - too tight for my taste - and I recalled my Master's promise that the day would come when a wizard wouldn't be ashamed of his heritage. But during those days with Peter, dressing as a Muggle was just another act of that odd play I had chosen to participate in. After a while, I didn't particularly care.

On our walks, we often passed Muggle farmers doing their farm work, or Muggle children playing together. We were so different from those people, and yet we looked alike as long as we didn't take out our wands. Some of them even seemed to know Peter, and I started to wonder if he was a Mudblood, but decided it wouldn't be polite to ask. And come to think of it, I really didn't want to know.

I enjoyed Peter's company. He was a funny person, at least if he hadn't been so nervous about telling the joke right. He made me laugh, though, and that was really something - I hadn't laughed since Sirius left home. It seemed the rules of my Master didn't reach where Peter lived. Suddenly I wasn't so anxious to freeze my feelings for the Dark Arts' sake any more. Everyone needed a break sometimes. It didn't make me any worse a follower. The Dark Lord had to understand that.

Yesterday we both were in a rather playful mood. Sheltered by some trees and a hedge, sure that no Muggles were around, we started a boyish hex fight. I guess we both needed to loose some energy packed inside us.

"You're gonna die, Black!"

"You're worm food, Pettigrew!"

Then there was just laughing and screaming and flying hexes for a while. It felt almost unreal. Only a week ago (Could it be just a week? It felt like an eternity.) I threw curses like this, but more notorious ones, and for deliberate and specific purposes; the Unforgivables. My victim didn't fight back. He hadn't the time, nor the power - he'd been a Muggle. I shivered. Do not think about those things now.

Peter fought back. I quickly noticed he wasn't exactly a talented duellist, but his determination was admirable. I held myself back to give him a chance. A thought occurred to me that I could very easily cast one of those curses my Master had taught me to end the game if I'd wanted, but the thought made me disgusted. Not here, not now.

Finally I was too quick for Peter. He failed to avoid my Trip Jinx, and fell down onto the grassy ground.

I watched him fall like in a nightmare. Did I hurt him? Was he dead? The stomach-turning feeling passed as Peter raised his head, grinning almost victoriously, even though he'd just lost the fight.

"Nice catch, Regulus."

I helped him up with shaky hands. He probably noticed I was distressed, but thankfully he didn't ask me anything.

Day by day, I had seen even more clearly that something was bothering Peter. He played and joked with me as if we were innocent children, but his eyes sometimes held a hollow look. After a couple of days, the heaviness of unasked questions in the air became too hard to bear.

"What worrying you, Peter?" I finally asked in a dinner table.

"What?" He tried to play as carefree and happy as he could. His eyes didn't smile, though.

"I don't know you well, and I may be wrong, but I feel something has been bothering you all the time I've spent with you, Peter. I mean... you can tell me about it if you want."

I really wasn't used to these kinds of things. Being sympathetic. Being a friend. But Merlin, how I wanted to be!

"It's not you, Regulus," he said, not looking at me. "Just something... personal. And it's my problem, not yours. I don't want to talk about it."

"Is it so bad?" I asked, but he just shrugged.

I got up and walked to his side of the oaken dinner table. His shoulders seemed bent now, almost as if he'd been waiting for a blow from me. He was wearing simple black robes. I suddenly hated those black robes, because they reminded me of the cloaks of the Death Eaters. I didn't want to think about those things now; I just wanted to help Peter to feel a little better. I was standing behind him now, unsure what to do next. He let me touch his shoulders, and then his cheek, and chin. He had forgotten to do a shaving spell that morning. Noticing that made me smile. His skin was so rough, so real.

Peter let me turn him slowly around. Suddenly he was standing in front of me, holding my hands firmly, eyes flashing. I was amazed at the hidden power inside him. It was like his earlier low self-esteem had vanished by my touch. He just needs someone by his side, I thought fuzzily. Then, just like in the pub in Knockturn Alley some days ago, I wanted to kiss Peter Pettigrew.

I can't remember which of us started the kiss. I had never been kissed before, not like this. The Dark Lord had kissed me; it had been a part of the initiation ceremony. But his touch was cold, and his mouth tasted bitter. Maybe he had poison in his spit? Peter's mouth tasted so very different. August moons, fresh countryside air and table wine were in his kiss. His kiss tasted alive. Peter seemed to have forgotten his nervousness. I liked him that way. As long as the kiss would last he wouldn't remember the thing that worried him. I didn't want to let him go.

I held him as if I had been his lifesaver, or he mine. An odd mixture of feelings filled my mind. This was happiness. Then why was I suddenly so frightened?

That was last night. I slept beside him, listening his steady breathing until I awoke in the morning sunshine, and realised I had fallen asleep at some point of the night.

* * * * *

After ten days my Master finally called me.

Peter and I had been sitting on the living room sofa, talking. I needed to feel him near me so his arm was around my shoulder. That's why he instantly felt my body stiffen as the Dark Mark burned on my forearm.

"What is it, Regulus?"

It felt so unfair, so sudden. I had been on a vacation, hadn't I? Peter and I had started to become really close; it was a glorious new experience for me, and I didn't want to leave him yet, even for a short while. But I knew I had to. I had vowed to come whenever my Master called.

The pain in my arm grew constantly stronger. I managed to suppress a groan. My Master became easily impatient, and I hadn't any idea how I would explain the complicate situation to Peter. He was looking at me, puzzled, and in his eyes I once again saw the nervousness I had so much wanted to take away from him.

"Reg, are you all right?" he peeped like a small animal. "Are you in pain?"

I was getting nervous, too. I had to get out of that cottage by whatever means, and soon. Half of me just wanted to shout out the truth. I'm a Death Eater, Peter, and the Dark Lord is calling. What can I do? Leave me alone! But that would have destroyed everything. I was bound to live in the world of secrecy, whether I wanted it or not.

"Peter, you must understand this... I just remembered something... I really have to go now. I'll be back soon." I knew that didn't made any sense to Pettigrew, but at the moment I was in a complete loss of words. The pain made thinking even more difficult. I should have thought this through before. I knew this day would come...

I stood up, pushing away utterly confused Peter who was still trying to hold me.

"What is it, Regulus? Are you angry at me? Is it something I said? Something I did?"

"No! This is nothing to do with you!" I shouted in panic, but as if to contrast my words my voice sounded suddenly angry. Startled, Peter withdrew.

"Please, don't leave! I don't understand what's going on! Are you tired of me?"

I didn't want to look at Peter's pleading eyes. I would have liked so much only to stay with him. I had just started to think of us as lovers, and the thought felt good. But I was also a Death Eater, and there were certain priorities in a Death Eater's life.

Now I understood why the Dark Lord keeps saying that love is our weakness.

I had wanted to say something soothing to Peter; something like that I had to leave, but I would be back soon, and he shouldn't worry at all. But as he tried to stop me, tightly gripping my burning arm, I couldn't control myself anymore.

"Let me go!" I cried, twisting my mouth in pain. I shook off Peter's hand in fury, and pushed him hard, causing him to fell back onto the sofa. The last thing I saw before I ran out of the door was his pitiful, bewildered expression. I felt numb.

* * * * *

I had been wrong. My Master was angry. It would have been easier if he'd yelled at me, even cast Cruciatus, but he just stared at me in furious silence. I felt his disappointment, but it would have been easier to bear if he'd said it aloud. Now he made me feel I wasn't even worthy to hear his words. I felt sweat in my palms and my heart beat too fast as he studied me intently. He seemed to see the fear on my face even through my mask.

"So you thought you could have a vacation? Stupid boy. There's no vacation as long as there's war." Lord Voldemort spoke at last. I realised in a shock that he must have read my thoughts.

I knelt anxiously before him, not sure if it was better that there were no other Death Eaters present, or worse. I didn't want anyone to see my humiliation, but now there was no one who could save me from the Dark Lord's wrath, if things went really bad.

"My Lord..." What else was there to say? I didn't understand myself any more. Why hadn't I returned to my Master after my task, as usual? But I couldn't help thinking of Peter's miserable expression as I had fled from his house to answer the Dark Mark's call. I had betrayed his trust, or at least that's how it must have felt to him. He would never understand. I had been a fool to think I could live a normal life. For people like me, it just wasn't possible. Still, I missed his smile.

I shrugged. My Master had laid one of his bony hands onto my hooded head.

"I have trusted in you, young Black. How are you going to pay back my trust? Are you any use of me anymore?" His voice had grown so menacing; the fear inside me increased. What would there be for me left, if even my Master abandoned me?

Pettigrew... No, don't think of him now! I ordered myself furiously, but it was too late. My Master had already caught the thought. The first time that evening he smiled. It was bad. He only smiled to his prey.

"Hm, Pettigrew? So you've spent your time with a certain Peter Pettigrew? That's interesting."

I didn't dare to speak.

"It seems your stubbornness has been a great service to me after all, Regulus Black."

"My Lord," I repeated anxiously. I wasn't sure what my Master meant, but there was now new hope in his words, and I clung to that hope. I had to. I wanted to serve him, wanted to show I was capable and loyal. I was a Black, after all.

"Pettigrew," my Master said again, and I could have sworn he was amused. "What a coincidence that you've become friends with that young wizard just when he has become of particular interest to me."

"Master..." I knelt even lower. Suddenly I understood everything. The haunted look in Peter's eyes, his nervousness, his fear. They were after him. The Dark Lord needed him to do something, maybe to be his spy. It wasn't so uncommon these days. Some people complied more easily, others needed a little more persuasion. Now I knew what was frightening Peter. I didn't want to hear the next words of my Master.

"I want you to bring him to me."

I didn't want to hear those words, because I knew I was powerless to resist my Master's command.

* * * * *

I am a Death Eater. That means I belong to Voldemort, and when he finally takes over, I will be there by his side to create the new order. I remember how proud I was when I was initiated to my Master's secrets. Now I was getting ready for the next mission, but oddly, I couldn't feel anything as I watched myself in a mirror. I saw a slender figure in a black robe, hood pulled up to shade the face, although there was nothing to see, just a white mask; white as a skull. I held a wand in my gloved hand, and took a step ahead in my heavy boots. I was ready to go.

My companion arrived. I didn't know his identity, as he was masked like me, but his voice sounded older, and particularly self-confident.

"This is our mission. We're to go to a wizard named Peter Pettigrew. He's rather dull and pathetic for a pure-blood, but our Master still sees some use for him, although what that is, I can hardly imagine. Death Eaters have visited him before, but he hasn't yet turned to serve the Dark. Our mission is to persuade him to take the crucial step. There's really no choice for him, is there? But he's useless dead, so we have to keep him alive and sane. Torture is acceptable, if we need to help him make up his mind. But only if necessary. We're his friends, remember, and we've come to save him. Right?"

I nodded; I understood the rules. Without further words we Apparated.

I have always loved the heated tension that grows inside me just before the attack. After the Apparation, everything happens so fast, like some sacred dark dance. The curses fly, people scream, and the feeling of power and control fills my heart, making me feel invincible. However, this time it was nothing like that.

Only a day before I had left Peter, but it seemed like an eternity. But when I looked around, I felt like I hadn't been away at all. We Apparated into the kitchen, and I noticed the used dinner plates on the table where they'd been when I left. The sink was full of dishes we hadn't taken time to wash before. We continued to the living room, and found Peter there, sitting on the same sofa where I had left him. The only thing that showed he had moved at all was the bottle of Firewhisky on the table - now almost empty - and the glass in his hand.

Then he saw us. He let a cry that ended in a squeak, and then his body collapsed, the glass shattered, and instead of Peter, there was a rat running towards the door. I knew I should have done something, but the shock of seeing Peter again, and his sudden transformation were too much. I froze. My companion, however, knew how to act. He let a few stunning spells fly towards the fleeing rat, and one of those hit its target. The stunned rat was put onto the sofa, and another spell made Peter regain his human form.

"An Animagus, eh?" said my Death Eater companion. "That was most unexpected. He must be really desperate to show his secret talent to us."

Would Peter have shown his secret talent to me some day, if we had stayed together? Now I would never know. I would never know if he had told me about the Death Eaters who were tormenting him. Did he believe I could help him? I felt almost nauseated. I would have liked to leave the house, but I was in the middle of the mission, and the hardest part was still ahead.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" My companion had revived Peter, but not before he had cast a partial Petrificus charm on him.

"We've been patient with you, Pettigrew, but we can't continue like this eternally. The Dark Lord needs your answer."

"My answer is no," came a weak whisper.

"But that's not the right answer, Pettigrew. You know it, too. Want to try again?"

Peter was sweating. He looked like a cornered animal - Animagus - I thought dizzily. I was sweating as well, unsure what to do. I knew what would happen next. Peter was a stubborn Gryffindor, he wouldn't surrender so easily. You can't buy a Gryffindor; they can only be overcome by taking away their hope.

And what hope was there any more?

"I'm not going to join you! Ever!" Peter cried, but there was desperation in his voice.

My companion drew his wand and spoke, "Crucio!", but the curse had hardly touched Peter as I jumped ahead, and pulled off my mask.

"Peter! It's me! Stop! Stop, I'll talk to him!"

The other Death Eater lowered his wand. Both of them turned to face me. I saw Peter become even more pale as he recognised who I was.

"That was a very stupid thing to do, Regulus Black," said my Death Eater companion in a menacing voice. I knew I should have been worried, because he now knew my identity, but I wasn't.

"Peter, listen to me." I spoke rapidly, afraid that either of them would interrupt me. "There's no choice. You can't fight the Dark Lord, Peter. We are not going to harm you if you accept his offer. Please, do." I knew I started to sound desperate myself.

Peter just stared blankly at me.

"I trusted you. I... cared for you. I thought you cared, too. And then... you are... you are..." He wasn't able to finish the sentence.

"Peter, you have no choice."

"You must have laughed when I asked you to stay with me. I was your target all the time!"

"No, Peter. I didn't know..."

"I don't believe you. You just wanted to use me. You... you betrayed me!"

I found no words to answer him.

There was a long silence. Peter looked miserable. He didn't fight his tears anymore, but most horrible was the look on his face. It was the look of a doomed man.

"What do you want me to do?" Peter had turned towards the masked wizard.

"Nothing special. Just some minor services. Information, perhaps. And when it's all over, the Dark Lord will not forget your favours."

"And what if I... don't..."

"We'll just keep visiting you. I really wouldn't like to, you seem a nice guy, but if the Dark Lord is displeased..."

Peter lowered his gaze, pondering his possibilities. Then his body jerked violently, as he unsuccessfully tried to change back into his Animagus form, hindered by the partial Petrificus curse. His desperate attempt to flee was instantly repaid by another Cruciatus curse.

I was shocked to realise that it was I who had cast the curse.

"Peter, can't you see? You must end this! He'll never leave you in peace. Peter, you must understand. There's no way out!"

I took a deep breath, and withdrew from the sofa where Peter was still gasping in residual pain. I disgusted myself. When I looked at Peter, there was nothing in his eyes. No emotion, no willpower left. But his hollow eyes didn't leave me for a second. I heard him mumble words anxiously, something about agreeing, and serving the Dark Lord; that he'll be a good servant. He prayed us over and over again not to harm him any more. I had managed to break this man. I had obeyed my Master's command.

And it was wrong. It was so very wrong.

I went back to the kitchen, still clenching my mask in other hand, my wand in another. I couldn't go on any more. There was too much violence. It had got a hold on me, already. I had joined the Death Eaters for family honour, but I was becoming a monster instead.

The Dark Arts are about violence and destruction.

I had learned that in a DADA lesson a long time ago, but only now I began to understand the true meaning of the sentence.

I Disapparated home in an agitated mood. Thankfully, my Death Eater companion didn't try to stop me. I remembered the loathing on Peter's face as he saw my true nature. Peter was a broken man now, and there was nothing I could do about it any more. Or was there?

I couldn't sleep at night. My hatred towards my Master grew stronger hour by hour. It was so wrong. All that destruction. It couldn't be the right way, could it?

Early in the morning I had made my decision. I wouldn't get peace of mind until I would speak to the Dark Lord. It wouldn't be a vacation for me this time; now I was going to quit. I couldn't live on like this. I would go to the Dark Lord, and leave my mask in his hands. That's what I would do. I knew Peter would never forgive me for what I did to him, but I still had to fight. Especially for his sake. I had to show him there's always hope.

* * * * *

Now.

It's early morning, and my Mark burns like hell. It's time to go now. I'm not afraid, for I know I'm doing the right thing after all. I'm not afraid.