The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Obvious

Phoebe's hands shake, her thumbnail digging into the lines of her palms.

She was so grateful to Lily, so glad that the redhead was so willing to stay with them. Truth be told, it was the only way she would be safe now as well.

She wasn't sure she could do this alone, she wasn't sure why it felt like she had to. But she knew. She knew it had to be done, knew that this was the right course.

Her smile wobbles when Peter Pettigrew enters the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and Phoebe doubts yet again her status as a Gryffindor. Brave, true. Chivalrous. No, not this time. This time she felt cunning, dark.

Manipulative.

She would do this, she would make this choice so that others wouldn't have to.

Sirius Black seemed the obvious one to be the secret keeper for James and Phoebe. So obvious, that James and Lily and Dumbledore were all certain he would be after meeting with Phoebe. Though the Veela had made her own decision, one that would likely haunt her for the rest of her life. She wasn't meeting with Sirius today.

Instead, she'd owled Peter.

She never thought she would have to sacrifice one of her friends for the life of another. She'd do it. She would.

Peter looked different. His mousy affection had turned to depressive anger, envy. Phoebe knew he'd cherish this job, cherish the chance to be something that Sirius and James and Remus couldn't. His boyhood insecurity would be his greatest gift to her. If only she could follow through on her decision.

Her mother had always been a good decision maker.She'd always been good at chess too. Perhaps that's why the Veela had once been so good of friends with Dumbledore, long before Phoebe's birth. She wouldn't ask the old headmaster about that. She didn't want to know if she'd inherited her mother's selfishness, her cunning streak. Because today, she chose to cherish it,

"Pete," Phoebe says warmly, not missing the way her friend's eyes linger on the plate of cookies sitting on the table. She smiles, pushes it over to where he has taken a chair. His hand snaps out and grabs it as if he's scared it's going to be taken away.

"You look well," Phoebe encourages, her heart softening painfully when the boy before her flushes a deep red, his lips twitching into a sheepish smile. His breakup with Mary had changed him, made him gloomier, skittish almost. But Phoebe could still see the same flustered boy she'd known all of those years, the same boy that was fiercely loyal to his friends. She could only hope it hadn't changed.

Peter was her friend, James' friend. And while the boy's value of courage made him a Gryffindor, his actual boldness paled in comparison. Sirius was the obvious choice, the obvious target.

Peter wasn't.

Phoebe would risk it, risk the life of one friend to save the other. She would do anything to save Sirius, to keep him from harm. He would hate her for it, James would hate her for it. She couldn't think of a single person that wouldn't be disgusted by her chess game with living, breathing pieces. Except for one.

Regulus.

Regulus would understand, and Phoebe's heart aches for the boy she'd so desperately wished to save. The boy that had given himself in the hopes that he could save his older brother. It only felt right to see it through, to see that Sirius would be free from more hurt in this lifetime. To see that the Slytherin hero's sacrifice hadn't been for nothing.

Not everyone was just good or just bad. Regulus said that the last time she saw him, hugged him. He said that most people were some of each. Maybe that was her now. Maybe she could be grateful for the good and bad in her soul. Good and bad. This was the bad. She would accept this bad.

"Phoebe?"

Her hands nearly knock over her tea, body flinching from being startled from her mourning. Peter is looking at her with uneasy eyes, his own smile fading. She swallows roughly, doesn't think anymore. She just says abruptly before she can change her mind, "I need your help. Peter, I need your help."

His eyes grow round, surprised by the urgency in her voice. He leans forward, nods his head as he replies, "Of course, Pheebs! Anything!"

The kitchen grows silent again as Phoebe tears at her cuticles with her thumbnail, picking and digging until her fingers burn and more words spill from her mouth,

"James and I must go into hiding."

Peter's brows furrow, and Phoebe expects questions, expects a surprised reaction. But he's surprisingly calm, and it soothes her a great deal. He smiles encouragingly and reaches across the table, offering her his hand. She eagerly takes it, grounds herself with it. Merlin, forgive her. This was Peter. And while she felt terribly, she would sacrifice her relationship with this sweet boy to preserve her relationship with her soulmate. If Peter did this, then Sirius could avoid hurt. Voldemort would still suspect him, would still perhaps look for him. But Sirius wouldn't know anything. He wouldn't know anything that could harm him.

"We're going to use the Fidelius charm on our house," Phoebe whispers, squeezing Peter's hand. He frowns uncertainly but nods, slowly putting the pieces together. He stares at her, blinking rapidly as he stammers incredulously, "M-me? You want me to be the secret keeper?"

Phoebe closes her eyes tightly for a brief moment before opening them and nodding her head tightly. Peter looks alarmed, stunned and almost sick. His skin has gone from flushed to pale, his mouth twisting into an uncomfortable expression that Phoebe can't name.

"Please, Pete," She begs, eyes watering. Don't cry. Cry. She wasn't sure which was more useful, which her mother would choose. Tears. Her mother was brilliant at manipulating with emotion despite her normal stoic nature.

Tears it is.

"We need someone," Phoebe weeps freely, her heart splintered by the expression of horror on Peter's face. "Remus is in no state to take this on, Sirius is already worried about Grimmauld Place being revealed. We need someone brave, someone we can trust. We need you."

Peter's spine straightens at her words. Her guilt may kill her, but the death of Sirius or James or Harry would kill her faster. It wasn't all a lie. Remus couldn't be the secret keeper, not now. Gideon's death had soured him against the Order, caused friction between him and Sirius. Peter was neutral, Peter was sweet and innocent and...not obvious. Peter had never stood out, and it was likely Voldemort would never find them so long as their plain friend was the sole person that knew where they hid.

"What do I have to do?" He questions softly, and Phoebe reaches out, grabs his other hand. Her tears were real now, an outpouring of gratitude.

"The incantation is difficult," Phoebe whispers shakily, her nerves again soothed by the kindness on Peter's face. She smiles tearfully and murmurs, "Once I tell you the location of our home, it becomes yours. It's engrained in your soul and yours alone, hidden within you. You'll be safe,"

The lie feels heavy on her tongue, stunts her words for a moment. But then she's speaking again, reassuring the boy she'd known for so long, "Legilimency, Veritaserum, curses...none of it will work, Peter. You can only divulge the secret directly, without being coerced or charmed."

Phoebe waits with bated breath, watches Peter Pettigrew think on her words. She can't recall him ever looking so serious, his expression ever being so sincere. It gives her hope. Maybe it would only be a little while. Maybe they would only have to hide for a year. Maybe Peter wouldn't have to keep the secret forever, and Phoebe could tell Sirius and Marlene and Alice and Frank. She could have them over to the home that James had bought for her, the home they didn't know existed yet. She craved it, she craved normalcy and safety. She craved protection.

Peter smiles once again, earnest. Sure of himself. And Phoebe's heart aches with a mixture of relief and joy when he says calmly, "Of course, Phoebe."

His hands are warm, comforting. She would always remember Peter this way. Brave, chivalrous. Maybe she'd doubted him, maybe he'd rise to the occasion. She can only hope as he continues gently,

"It would be an honor."

{{before y'all hate on Phoebe for making this choice—I hope you can see it from her perspective. Her character is complex and so is her thinking . It's fun to write her. She's a far cry from Gwen :) (pls be nice lol)}}