The Marauders: Year Seven Part One

Extra Rare

Cecil Pettigrew barely looked up from the newspaper he was reading when Sirius and Remus tumbled out of the hearth. "I could've taken a turn at that pub we passed," Sirius said immediately as he dusted the soot from his Deep Purple t-shirt and jeans, "Did you smell it?"

"Smell it?" Remus asked, eyes hungry with the thought of it, and he accepted Sirius's hand-up from the floor, his knees giving a crack as he stood, "I was salivating. I could certainly do for a steak, extra rare, about now." His eyes landed upon Cecil Pettigrew, who turned the page on his newspaper and cleared his throat. "Hullo sir," Remus said, and he extended a hand to the man.

Cecil didn't even look at Remus's outstretched had, let alone to shake it, he simply muttered, "Morning," out the side of his mouth and went on reading.

Remus looked at Sirius. Sirius raised one eyebrow, then asked, loudly, "IS PETER ABOUT?"

"Upstairs," Cecil Pettigrew replied.

Sirius waited for further answer, but none was forthcoming, and so he simply said, "Alright. We'll be upstairs then." And nodded for Remus to follow him. Remus glanced back over his shoulder as they left the kitchen, and Cecil's eyes never left his paper. Upstairs, Sirius knocked on every door. "Peetterrrrr!" he called, "Come out and play!"

The bedroom door at the very end opened and Peter stuck his head out, staring at them down the length of the hallway. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked sourly.

"Oh come now, Peter, you're nearly as friendly as your dad," Sirius commented, walking down the length of the hall quickly, followed by a slower Remus. He stepped into Peter's bedroom and looked about. "Like what you've done with the place," he said. Nearly every square inch of it was pictures and drawings of the four Marauders, as though there was nothing else in the world that Peter was interested in. The only exception was a small frame on his bed stand which held Wendy Brighton's photo, and it blew kisses out toward the empty pillow, smiling merrily.

Remus stepped into the room and Peter hastened a look out into the hall behind him. "James isn't here, is he?"

"He's probably snogging Evans by now, if she'd only open her blasted mouth," Sirius threw himself onto Peter's bed, stretching out across the sheets languidly and snuggling into the mattress. "My what a comfortable bed you have here, Wormtail."

Peter slammed the door shut. "What are you doing here?"

"Coming to get you," Remus said, "For a camping trip. It's nearly the full moon, and Prongs and Evans are meeting us in Godric's Hollow, by the old Dumbledore house."

Peter looked positively elated for a moment, and then his face fell. "I can't go," he said.

"Why the fuck not?" Sirius asked.

Peter tugged at his jumper sleeves, "I just can't. I - I'm not allowed."

"What? By your dad?" Sirius asked, then, "That fucker won't notice if you're gone. Unless you steal his newspaper, that is."

"I just can't," Peter answered.

"But we're going to celebrate your birthday on the trip!" Remus said, "It isn't everyday our little Wormy's going to come of age." He smiled.

Peter flushed. "Yes, but, I still can't go."

Sirius sat up, twisting his body so Remus was forced to be looking right at his arse, and, to Peter, he said, "Of course you're going, don't be an idiot."

"I'm not an idiot," Peter said.

Sirius moved his leg. "Then you should be packing!" He glanced at Remus to see the effect he was having. Remus was staring at Sirius's backside with the same hungry expression he'd had before, when they'd been talking about rare steaks. "How's that for extra rare, Moony?"