Honey Over Vinegar

Far from the Muggles and their electric lights, the stars shone brilliantly in the velvety, rich sky. Under the light of the frosty full moon, one could spot the witches and wizards who Apparated into the yard in front of Little Norton Church Hall, where a combination between concert and party was being held. The swoosh of broomsticks heading to the fancy ballroom blended harmoniously with the gentle breeze. Inside the tinkle of laughter became one with the tinkle of wine glasses used to warm the guests.

Lucius Malfoy strode self-importantly up the grass, crunching the thin layer of snow underfoot, eagerly anticipating the party, his wife Narcissa at his side. Behind him trailed Crabbe and Goyle, followed a bit back by Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan.

The theme and purpose of the event were as airy as the wind that blew past them. On the surface, Mr. Jugson was hosting it to celebrate Christmas. The real purpose, naturally, was to gather supporters and possible recruits for the Dark Lord. Not that any non-Death Eater guests knew that, of course. Though the invitation and pure-blood only nature would have made it quite clear as to what sort of people would be attending.

Scanning the crowd, Lucius attempted to locate those that were Death Eaters. He knew that the attendance would be a mixture of both, so as not to give away any identities. No Death Eater could know the names of all of the others, after all. But Lucius knew some, and he could guess others.

He was one, though his wife was not. He knew for certain that Crabbe and Goyle were Death Eaters as well, along with his sister-in-law Bellatrix. If he had been forced to lay down money, he would have guessed that Rodolphus Lestrange was a Death Eater, but he lacked solid evidence. With Rodolphus' brother Rabastan, on the other hand, he was less certain. The young man had a nervous, uncertain look about him that did not seem befitting a dark wizard. He could have been a Death Eater, but he could just as easily been a mere supporter.

As they neared the entrance, Lucius turned and blinked as he realized that Rabastan was now deep in conversation with a young wizard who looked vaguely familiar, but who he could not quite place. The man, who looked as though he was barely in his twenties, had a sycophantic air about him which prompted Lucius to sneer at him. Whoever he was, he had not arrived with Lucius.

Lucius gave his name to the man at the door, but his attention was now on Rabastan and his companion. The way they were going on, one would think that they had been friends their whole lives. Rabastan had apparently made a joke, for the other wizard gave a loud laugh, causing Rabastan to blush with pleasure.

As he came to the door, Rabastan said offhandedly, "Rabastan Lestrange."

"And you, Sir?" the doorman said, turning to Rabastan's friend.

"Peter Pettigrew," the wizard replied.

The doorman frowned at his list, searching for the name. "He's with me," Rabastan assured with a flush, tossing his arm around Peter's shoulders. Peter smiled adoringly up at him.

"But Sir-" the doorman began, but Rabastan waved him away.

"What's it matter?" he insisted. "His blood's as pure as ours." He paused and addressed Peter. "You are pure-blooded, right?"

Peter looked offended. "Of course I am," he sniffed. "Were I not, I wouldn't have dared to show my face here tonight." He made a gesture to Rabastan's arm. "And what kind of pure-blood would be seen touching a Mudblood?"

"Exactly!" Rabastan exclaimed, flashing Peter a smile and patting him heartily on his back as they slipped past the doorman. And without another word said on the matter, Peter Pettigrew entered Little Norton Church Hall in company of one Rabastan Lestrange.

At one end of the Hall was a stage where Stubby Boardman and The Hobgoblins were playing. On the other end was a bar, Scattered between it and the stage were high top tables complete with stools. Witches and wizards could sit there, listening to music and enjoying free drinks.

After entering, Lucius lost track of Rabastan and his guest as his attention was required by their host. As soon as he had freed himself from the social formalities, Narcissa insisted that they listen to Stubby Boardman and the Hobgoblin's catchy tune. With the music, food, and drinks, Lucius soon lost interest in the young wizard.

Thus, unbeknownst and unseen by Lucius Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew disengaged himself from Rabastan to accost Bellatrix, who had taken a seat at a table, her husband having gone off for drinks.

"Hello," Peter said as he slipped into a stool across from Bellatrix.

Bellatrix glanced at the wizard, trying to place him. His slightly plump figure and round baby face with beady eyes reminded her of someone.

"Ms. Lestrange, isn't it?" the young man inquired, raising the drink he had with him, though he didn't sip it.

"Mrs. Lestrange," Bellatrix corrected, looking the wizard over. "You?"

"Peter Pettigrew," Peter introduced, and Bellatrix suddenly remembered where she had seen him.

"Aren't you friends with Sirius Black?" she asked suspiciously.

"Friends?" Peter replied glibly, waving his drink. "Friend is a strong word. I don't think Sirius is that good of a friend, really."

"Hm?"

"Well," Peter continued, "if Sirius were a better friend, I should think he would have mentioned that his cousin was such a beauty!" Peter gave a shy blush at this, and Bellatrix could not help but be pleased.

"I'm a married woman," she reminded him, flattered regardless.

"Alas!" Peter sighed playfully. "I appear to have met you too late. I really must talk to Sirius about this. But a wizard can still dream, can he not?" His eyes assessed Bellatrix.

Bellatrix's cheeks had a red flush to them. "You are quite naughty, Mr. Peter Pettigrew."

"Thoroughly wicked," Peter agreed devilishly.

"I might just have to put a hex on you," Bellatrix continued.

"Mmm..." Peter responded, laying his head on his arms and gazing up at Bellatrix.

"I see you have met my wife," a cold voice drawled, and Peter looked up to see Rodolphus, two drinks in hand. Peter's head came up, and he gave a noticeable gulp.

"You must be Rodolphus Lestrange," Peter greeted with a forced smile as Rodolphus sat down next to Bellatrix. He looked Rodolphus over as well. "If what I've heard of you is true, then I must admit that the best wizard did indeed win."

"Yes," Rodolphus curled his lip, surveying Peter with a look of distaste.

"Oh, lay off it, Rodolphus," Bellatrix cut in. "Peter's harmless."

"Mostly," Peter agreed. "Besides, I don't think I had much of a chance competing, anyway." He gave Rodolphus a defeated smile. "Is it true what the rumors say? That the Lestranges are so great that they often waltz into the palace of the Muggle king and order him around?"

Rodolphus found himself having difficultly scowling. "Rumors are seldom true," he dismissed.

"But I'm sure you could do it, if you wanted to, right?" Peter pressed on.

Rodolphus straightened his shoulders. "Well, I would think I could. Were I ever to decide to abase myself to consorting with Muggles, that it."

"True, very true," Peter agreed. "You wouldn't want to get dirty, would you?"

"Exactly," Rodolphus responded as Peter gave him an admiring look.

Peter leaned toward Rodolphus and whispered in his ear in a voice that did not prevent Bellatrix from hearing, "You'll have to forgive me for before; she's quite a temptation. You're a really lucky man."

"I know," Rodolphus replied smugly, deciding that Peter was not that bad, after all.

"Still, I shall make it up to you with a round of shots. Waiter. Hey, Waiter!" Peter called, waving the waiter over. "A round of shots, please."

"Yes, Sir," the waiter said, leaving.

"But Mr. Pettigrew, I've already gotten-"

"Oh, call me Peter," Peter insisted.

After a moment, the waiter came back with the three shots of rum and coke. Peter took them and handed them to Rodolphus and Bellatrix while taking one for himself.

"Bottoms up!" Peter prompted, and Rodolphus and Bellatrix blindly obliged. It was for this reason that they missed Peter not drinking his, but let the liquid fly over his shoulder, where it splattered on the ground. However, he slammed his drink down on the table exactly as they did and wiped his mouth.

A minute later, Peter had bought Rodolphus and Bellatrix mugs of firewhisky, though he took nothing for himself.

As Rodolphus drank deeply from his, Peter addressed him. "A friend of mine once mentioned, Mr. Lestrange, that you once outfoxed old Alastor Moody."

"Well, I'm not one to brag," Rodolphus boasted, swaying slightly, "but I shan't deny the truth. There I was, in the alley, when Moody Apparates on the other end. Now, a lesser wizard would have panicked then, but I kept my wits about me and sent a stunner his way."

"Go on," Peter encouraged eagerly.

Rodolphus took another swig from his drink and continued. "That only fazed old Moody for a moment, and the next thing I know, he's casting curses at me left and right! So ducked behind a trash can and hit him with the Impediment Curse!"

"Amazing!" Peter interrupted, giving Rodolphus an admiring look with his watery eyes. "You must be a really strong wizard."

"I am," Rodolphus boasted. "And I would have finished Moody off right there, but, then, seven Hit Wizards showed up, and I felt it would have been a waste to kill them all." The last part, incidentally, was said more to Rodolphus' glass than to Peter.

"Mercy's an admirable trait," Peter agreed with a nod of his head.

"But I could have taken them," Rodolphus insisted, taking another swig from his drink. "Did I ever tell you about the time I crossed paths with Benjy Fenwick?"

"Benjy!" Peter exclaimed in a shocked tone. As Rodolphus gave him a suspicious look, Peter continued hastily. "Benjy Fenwick? I think I've heard that name before..." Peter pretended to think hard. "A real busy body, right? Always bothering decent wizards?"

"Yeah," Rodolphus slurred, "that's the one."

"Go on," Peter encouraged.

"Met him on a hilltop once," Rodolphus bragged. "We started a duel. It was a fierce one; he kept on using the Shield Charm, and it was hard to see with my hood-" Rodolphus stopped, frowning.

"Continue," Peter urged, pretending not to have noticed the slip. Rodolphus shrugged.

"Anyway, he was about to Apparate away when I hit him full body with the Reductor Curse!" Rodolphus struggled to pull his wand out of his pocket and waved it around in demonstration. "As you can imagine, the fight ended well. And Fenwick was-" Rodolphus stopped, baring his teeth and giving a savage smile.

"Bravo!" Peter cheered, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Fenwick won't be bothering decent pure-bloods like yourself anymore, I bet!"

Their conversation was interrupted by Bellatrix waving to someone behind Peter.

"Narcissa! Lucius!" she called, and then explained, "Narcissa is my younger sister." Catching Peter's eye, she waved a finger. "Now don't you dare, Peter. Narcissa is married, and I will put a hex on you!"

Peter cowered, wringing his hands. "Don't fear, Mrs. Lestrange; I'll behave." Then he winked at her with one of his small eyes, showing he had been playing.

"Hello," drawled Lucius' voice as he and Narcissa took a seat.

Peter looked at Narcissa and exclaimed, "Why Mrs. Lestrange! You never told me your sister was a veela!"

"Like she's never heard that one before," Rodolphus chortled, but a small blush came on Narcissa's cheeks regardless.

"Waiter!" Peter called boisterously. "Another round of firewhisky, please!"

"Lucius, Narcissa, this is Peter Pettigrew," Bellatrix introduced, and Peter took Lucius' hand and shook it vigorously.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy. Call me Peter."

Lucius looked Peter over, not sure if he liked him or not. Peter had an easy smile to be sure, but there was something about his small watery eyes and grubby hands that put Lucius off for some reason. Perhaps it was the way Peter's colorless hair did not seem to want to stay combed, as if Peter was not a member of the upper-class. But though he observed Peter like a hawk looking for a weakness in its intended prey, the young wizard only smiled blandly back, as if nothing was out of place.

"I heard your wife just had a baby, Mr. Malfoy," Peter conversed brazenly. "What was his name was again?"

"Draco. He's only seven months old, and already showing signs of magic," Narcissa boasted with a mother's pride. "He's going to be a brilliant wizard, I can just tell."

"Seven months?" Peter repeated. "Why, that makes him about Harry's age! You now, Lily and James' son."

"The Potters?" Lucius sneer suspiciously.

"Oh, yes," Peter continued, seemingly oblivious. "I was just over for dinner the other night."

Lucius' nostrils flared. "You are friends with the Potters?" He spat the name like a dirty word.

But Peter wasn't looking at him as he turned to take the drinks from the waiter, who had just arrived. He waved his hand dismissively. "Friends? Well, I don't know if I would say that..." He faltered for a minute, and then continued more confidently. "Loyalty's more of a Hufflepuff trait, if you catch my point."

"What do you mean by that?" Lucius inquired, a critical eye trained on the younger wizard.

"Well," Peter started, his voice quivering slightly. "It's not that loyalty's a bad trait, per say. It's just that you have to know to whom you want that loyalty given. And the Potters..." Peter trailed off, giving Lucius a secretive smile.

"Is that so," Lucius drawled, cold eyes boring into Peter, causing him to squirm. Lucius noticed that his breathing seemed to speed up.

"You know, I think I hear Rabastan calling me," Peter said firmly, taking a deep breath before giving Lucius a bland, empty smile. "If you'll excuse me..."

"You left your drink," Rodolphus called after Peter as he left, but Peter didn't seem to hear.

Incidentally, Peter did not join Rabastan. He weaved through the guests, cursing the asthma that had plagued him since childhood. It always flared up at the most inconvenient moments. Trying to get his breathing under control, he snatched two firewhiskys off a water's tray when he was not looking, Peter slipped into an empty seat by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Peter greeted. "Peter Pettigrew. You two are Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle, correct?"

"Uh huh," the two men replied.

"That's what I thought. Mr. Malfoy speaks so highly of both of you. Drinks?" He handed Crabbe and Goyle the firewhiskys.

"What did you say your name was again," Crabbe asked slowly as he took a deep drink from his mug.

"Peter," Peter reminded, flashing him an easy smile.

"Nice ta meetcha," Goyle slurred, having already had quite a bit to drink.

"From what the talk is," Peter laughed, "you and Mr. Crabbe here are Mr. Malfoy's right hand men." He lowered his voice so that Crabbe and Goyle had to lean in to hear him. To an outsider, it almost looked like they were conspirators together. "Though one wonders why Mr. Malfoy would need two right hands!" Peter gave a high pitched laugh, almost a squeal as Crabbe and Goyle chuckled heartily.

"Tha wa uh good one, Pete," Goyle congratulated, downing the rest of his drink.

"Oh, I've heard you and Mr. Crabbe tell them like no one else," Peter praised. Crabbe and Goyle nodded.

A waiter brought Crabbe and Goyle glasses of brandy, and so Crabbe quickly finished off the firewhisky that Peter had brought him.

"We were jus discusin the Dak Lord. Wha da ya think, Pete?" Crabbe conversed, almost as drunk as Goyle.

Peter grinned. "Am I to assume that you two are Death Eaters?"

"Wha would make ya thinka tha?" Goyle demanded thickly, and all too quickly. He glared suspiciously at Peter over his mug.

"Well," Peter drawled, "no one ever accused the Dark Lord of being a fool. And I'd have to say he'd be a fool to not have enlisted the help of two fine gentlemen like yourselves! Am I wrong?"

Goyle and Crabbe looked at him for a moment, then laughed loudly, and Crabbe slapped Peter on his back.

"Tha was uh good one, Pete," Crabbe congratulated.

"Yeah," Goyle agreed. "Pete was just makin uh funny!"

"Of course," Peter assured. Looking up, he spotted Lucius making his way to their table, and he swore under his breath. Naturally, his asthma decided to start acting up again.

"Peter, was it?" Lucius greeted aloofly, sitting down.

"Mr. Malfoy," Peter replied, his breathing heavy and rapid.

Lucius gave him a cold smile. "Did I hear you discussing the Dark Lord?" Lucius asked mildly, as if it were nothing.

"Yes," Peter said distractedly, his eyes - which had started to water - darting around the room, looking for an escape route.

"The Potters' son was born in summer, correct?" Lucius inquired, and a stillness settled on the table, like the calm before a thunderstorm. Light conversation was just waiting to burst into heavy rain.

"End of the seventh month," Peter said offhandedly, though he could feel his chest tightening.

"His parents having defied the Dark Lord-" Lucius continued.

"Only once so far, I'm afraid," Peter finished, casually slipping his fingers around Goyle's empty mug. Goyle, busy staring intently at Lucius and Peter, did not notice.

"I see," Lucius replied, pressing his lips together in a tight smile. Lucius opened his mouth to speak further, but right then he noticed Peter's hand, which had firmly grasped the mug and picked it up.

"It appears my drink is empty," Peter said apologetically, though his watery eyes were triumphant. Inhaling deeply and trying to slow his breath, Peter stood up quickly and scurried into the masses of guests. His short stature came in handy, and Lucius easily lost him in the crowd.

After placing the empty mug on a crowded table full of wizards, Peter slipped into the stool next to a wizard who was sitting at the bar. Glancing at him, Peter recognized him to be Parkinson. Oddly enough, the man had a mug in front of him, but Peter had not seen him drink from it since he had spotted him. And though the festivities were dragging on around him, Parkinson ignored them, staring moodily instead at his mug.

Parkinson glanced blearily up at Peter. "Hullo," he greeted in a deep, sullen voice.

"Hello," Peter chatted. "Mr. Parkinson, is it? The name's Peter." Peter shifted his hand so Parkinson could shake it, but Parkinson ignored it. With an uncomfortable smile, Peter retracted it after a moment and studied Parkinson.

Pursing his lips, he made his decision. Ordering a water from the bartender, Peter sipped it in silence until Parkinson looked up at him. It was then that the music stopped with an unexplained thud and shriek from Stubby Boardman.

"Peter, did you say?" Parkinson asked.

"Yes, I'm a good friend of Rodolphus Lestrange's. Do you know him?" Peter conversed. When Parkinson didn't answer, Peter pressed on. "Is something bothering you?" Parkinson forced his eyes to focus on Peter, who dropped his voice like that of a concerned friend. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Parkinson did not speak for a moment, but then said, in a voice that was barely more than a mutter, "My wife didn't want me to come."

"Is that so?" Peter nodded sympathetically.

"Because..." Parkinson stopped. "Well, you know." Another pause. "Or maybe you don't. Do you? Know. About..." He trailed off, and then made sweeping gesture with his hand to include the entire room.

"Oh, yes," Peter agreed blithely, thinking fast. "Rodolphus and I were just discussing it before we came. Well, arguing really. He thought that we should attend, but I pointed out the problems. After all, well, you know."

Parkinson nodded his head, and Peter looked to him for any clue as to what they were talking about.

"It's not that I don't agree with his ideas of what to do with Muggles and Mudbloods," Parkinson rambled on. "But the Parkinsons are a respectable family. And I have a little girl at home. Pansy. She's a real flower." He paused, sighed, and then spoke again. "And I can't just leave off without explaining to Evan. We've been friends since Hogwarts; I deserve him an explanation. But how do you explain to your best friend that you're too much of a coward to do what you know is right?"

Peter nodded his head feverously, catching on to what they were talking about. "I agree whole heartedly. The Dark Lord's on the right track, but his methods are all wrong."

"So that's why I can't join up," Parkinson concluded. "Hell, my wife didn't even want me to come tonight, since Evan Rosier is going to be here."

"Oh yes, Rosier," Peter babbled, trying not look excited. "Rosier is quite a-a-oh, what's the term again?"

"Death Eater," Parkinson supplied. "Evan's one, and he's been trying to pressure me. I don't mind supplying him money, but I can't risk myself or my family. Well, you know how I feel."

"Absolutely," Peter assured. "That was exactly my point to Rodolphus."

"So," Parkinson asked curiously, "are you in? A Death Eater, I mean."

Peter gave him a mischievous smile. "How does one define who is a Death Eater and who is not? If you would excuse me..." Before Parkinson could respond, Peter had scuttled back into the crowd.

"I'm sorry!" Peter squeaked as he bumped into a waiter. Catching a glimpse of the waiter's face, he let out a gasp.

"Peter!" the waiter exclaimed.

"Regulus!" Peter responded. "I haven't seen you since I was at Hogwarts. What brings you here?"

Regulus took on a lordly, arrogant air. "I'll be graduating next June. I made Head Boy, did you hear? And Mr. Wilkes got me this gig so I could make some money over the Christmas break." Regulus puffed up his chest, strutting like a peacock.

"Wilkes..." Peter pondered. "He's a friend of Snape's, isn't he?"

"Oh yes," Regulus continued pompously. "He's becoming very important. Rising fast."

"Does he have a job in the Ministry?"

"Tch. Ministry? I should think not."

"I see," Peter said, a glint in his eye.

Regulus opened his mouth to speak, but then looked embarrassed. Leaning down, he spoke in a lower voice, "Er...how's Sirius...doing." As he said the words, Regulus' arrogant countenance slipped, and he once more became the regular school boy who had greeted Peter.

"He'll survive," Peter said wryly.

"Good," Regulus continued. "I mean, he is my brother. Even if Mother did blast him off of the family tree."

"That's true," Peter agreed.

Regulus squirmed, and then lowered his voice even further. "Wilkes is a...Death Eater. And don't tell Sirius, but I'm thinking-"

Regulus broke off as he realized that Lucius was only a few feet away. He straightened up hastily, and his mask of pride seemed to fly back up to his face.

"Greetings, Mr. Malfoy," Regulus welcomed respectfully. Lucius met Regulus' eye.

"Hello, Regulus Black," Lucius said, meeting Regulus' eye while glancing at Peter Pettigrew peripherally.

As soon as Peter had noticed Lucius, he had started to scurry backwards, trying to look natural.

"If you'll excuse me, Regulus, I have matters to attend to," Lucius stated, and for a brief instance, his full attention was on Regulus. Then Lucius swung around, trying to see where Peter had went.

By now, Lucius was justifiably suspicious of Peter Pettigrew. Beginning with his entrance, and then the way he charmed the conversations. What he was planning, Lucius was not sure. But he need only bring Peter before the Dark Lord, and anything kept in Peter's mind would be revealed. Lucius was eager to know Peter's game, after having spent so much time trying to get a hold of him.

But now it seemed like Peter had vanished into thin air, though he couldn't have Apparated without Lucius hearing. Lucius headed over to the corner where he had last spotted Peter.

"Lumos," he muttered, slipping his wand out. Then he let out a curse as he saw that the corner was devoid of anything but a filthy rat. The rat's eyes darted up to him nervously before it squeaked and scurried off through a hole.

~*~*~*~

Outside, a man waited in the shadows of a large tree, leaning on a motorcycle. His eyes followed the path of a rat that had just exited the interior and headed towards him. His line of sight ended as the rat walked behind a tree. However, it was a man, not a rat, who emerged from the other side.

"Hello, Sirius," the man said.

"Peter," Sirius responded. He sniffed the air. "You smell awful."

"I'm the only sober wizard within a mile of here," Peter protested weakly.

"Whatever," Sirius yawned. "Do you know how boring it was waiting for you out here? James couldn't come and neither could Remus, since it's a full moon. But we figured you would need some backup, so here I am."

"Sorry," Peter apologized, cringing.

"At least tell me you got something good."

Peter nodded his head enthusiastically. "Do you remember Rosier and Wilkes? They ran with Snape back at Hogwarts."

"Snivellus' friends?" Sirius barked excitedly. "You don't mean-"

"Yep," Peter affirmed. "Death Eaters. Both of them."

"You didn't waste the whole night then, Wormtail," Sirius said in what might have been praise, though Peter did not see it that way.

Before either of them could say anything else, the backdoor to Little Norton Church Hall opened, and Goyle staggered out, followed by Crabbe. As Goyle retched on the grass, Crabbe pounded him on his back. Glancing up, he tried to focus his eyes.

"Hey, Pete! Is tha you, Pete?" Crabbe called as Sirius slipped behind a tree.

"I needed some fresh air," Peter replied breezily. "Enjoying the party?"

Crabbe nodded enthusiastically, and then led Goyle back inside after he had finished.

"Pete?" Sirius repeated incredulously as he stepped back into view. "You're Pete." Peter made an apologetic muttering sound, but Sirius ignored him. "Did you finding anything else out or was that all that you were able to manage?"

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped. "Sorry Padfoot, that was all I was able to find out. But they throw these parties often. I'll attend another one and discover more."

"Figures," Sirius growled, then snapped, "Well, hurry up and get on my bike or I'm leaving you to the Death Eaters."