A Change of Plan - Week 3 topic - Blind Drunk
Is there ever a reason to get blindingly drunk?
Peter had never been much of a drinker. It took a rare talent for alcohol consumption to keep up with James or Sirius, although part of him had always despised Remus for being too uptight and virtuous to even try. Later on…well spying and drinking really don't mix. Not if you want to last longer than it takes for the firewhisky to pass across your tongue, in any case.
However, twelve, almost thirteen years spent as a rat could really give you a craving for something - anything - that wasn't water. Or god forbid, milk. It had made him choke even as a child. After weeks of travel and scavenging for scraps on the way to Albania, and a day of checking out the local woods for promising leads on his Lord's whereabouts, a spot of self-indulgence was just what he needed. If he wasn't mistaken, he'd seen an inn around here as he'd scurried past this morning. He searched for the notes and coins he'd been stashing in the pocket of his stolen coat - probably enough to get him blind drunk, and maybe there'd be enough for a real bed for the night if he wasn't too fussy. Right now, he couldn't think of anything he'd rather spend it on.
He licked his lips nervously in anticipation, hurrying out of the woods with the ill-fitting overcoat wrapped tightly around him. If only he had a wand he'd be able to do better for himself. He allowed himself the quick, implausible fantasy of spellbinding an inn full of people as he ate and drank himself full, took his pick of clothing and a few wallets, perhaps indulged a few other long forgotten urges with the willing or not so willing…but what were the chances of running into another wizard out in the middle of nowhere?
- - - - -
The inn was sparsely populated with locals. Fortunately they seemed to be the type to pretty much ignore strangers in their midst. Even the barman gave up asking questions when it became clear they had no common language, and made do with grunting his response each time Peter pointed to the shelf of beer bottles and counted coins out on the dusty counter.
He started as something swished to the floor near his feet. He turned his head just in time to almost bump heads with a slightly plump woman with hair scraped untidily into a bun and a rather untidily over-stuffed rucksack over one arm. A flushed face came up to meet his as a triumphant hand waved a small phrasebook, pages a little the worse for wear.
"So sorry," she gasped out breathlessly, "I do keep dropping the dratted thing, and I can't remember what the word for 'tea' is-"
If possible, she looked even more surprised than he felt as her eyes focused on his face. She frowned, unattractive lines creasing her ruddy face behind the spectacles.
"I know you."
He kept his face as blank as possible, though he could feel a tremor in his short laugh. "Oh, I sh-shouldn't think so." There was something familiar about her though…his heart thudded loudly in his chest.
"Bertha Jorkins. And you're-"
He took another swig from his beer and cursed his luck as he saw recognition dawn in her eyes. He thought he remembered the name…a couple of years above him at Hogwarts. There'd be no fooling her for long.
"You're Peter Pettigrew." She reached over towards his free hand and held it up, the missing finger clearly clinching the identification for her. "But…you're supposed to be dead."
She was looking slightly puzzled now. Peter thought quickly. Deny everything, that was the way.
"Never heard of him, sorry." His grip on the bottle tightened as his thoughts ran in circles; need a wand, must be a witch, how the hell…where would she keep it? How was he going to get rid of the woman without a wand? She was clearly physically stronger than him and had probably not had to survive for the past few weeks by raiding dustbins on her way across Europe. He didn't even have enough money to help her drink herself to death. Although it might even the odds a little…
"Why don't you join me for a drink, and you can tell me all about this bloke…Peter, was it?" He kept a careful eye on her movements as they moved over to a table.
"That's right. Peter Pettigrew." The excitement was slightly marred by a touch of uncertainty now, but her eyes were bright behind the dusty lenses. "I was at school with him…I never thought he was the heroic type, I must say. He was killed by a man named Sirius Black, blown up in front of muggles in a shocking murder, and-"
"Muggles?" Peter interrupted, hiding his face behind another gulp of his beer.
She opened her mouth to answer before slowly closing it again. "Well, perhaps now isn't the time…but Pettigrew would know what I meant."
The uncertainty was back again, and she pulled vaguely at a slowly unwinding strand of hair for a moment.
"Well, let's see…I found myself out in Spain, oh…about 12 years ago. I don't remember how I got there and I wasn't sure of my name. I've called myself 'James' as that seemed familiar."
He ignored the hand that flew to her chest at the mention of the name. Women were so emotional. "But unless your friend disappeared around then, I'm afraid I can't be him." He hoped it was enough.
She practically exploded in her excitement. "Oh! I knew it! To think…not dead after all, just…oh you poor, poor man. And how the wizarding world will honour you, when it finds out the hero is alive after all." From the gleam in her eye the fact that her own story would be worth something had not escaped her.
"Wizarding world….?" He did his best to look confused. "Are you sure you haven't had one too many?" He nodded towards the beer bottles.
"No, no!" She clasped his hand in her rather damp fingers, and looked around the room distractedly. "I can explain…but not here."
He nodded, even as his heart leapt at the ease of the opportunity. "Come with me." He put down the beer and hauled her heavy rucksack onto his shoulder, buckling a little under the weight. Fortunately, she made no objections and followed him out into the night.
- - - - -
The woods were pitch black now, and after his explorations of the day he was far too wary to enter them at night, even if the woman would follow him in there. Instead he guided her towards the village - there were plenty of isolated spots along the way that would shelter them until morning and hide the body for some time.
"It's an exciting time to rejoin the wizarding world, too, Mr Pettigrew." Her voice was a little breathless as she kept up with his scurrying pace.
God, but the woman could blather on. His eyes darted ahead, looking for the entrance to the riverbank, an ideal place to shut her up once and for all.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, indeed. Why, the World Cup, everyone is going to that, and the Triwizard Tournament being reinstated - such a busy time at the Ministry we hardly know what to do with ourselves."
She was from the Ministry? A rush of panic overwhelmed him. Her disappearance might be investigated, especially if she was on Ministry business or they knew where she had gone. It might be as well to have her seen in a few other spots before killing her, after all. He groaned at the thought of staying in her company for longer than absolutely necessary, but...
"Are you all right there, Mr Pettigrew?"
"Peter. Call me Peter." He attempted a smile, and she simpered a little in return. Ah, they were almost there. "And yes…I think so. It's…it's all a little hard to take in, you know. I can't say that I feel much like a wizard. How do I know you're not having me on?"
"I can prove it."
As he hoped, she looked for a spot to rest and led the way through the small gate that led down to the riverbank. He settled her rucksack on the ground as soon as they were out of sight of the road. She unzipped and felt around until she produced a long wooden rod and offered it to him handle first.
"Now just take firm hold and say 'Lumos' - you'll see." She beamed at him eagerly, moonlight glinting off her glasses.
He hesitated for a moment. Get her out of the way and leave the body, or lay a false trail and maybe see what else she was useful for...oh he'd almost forgotten how good a wand felt in his hand. He curled his fingers tightly around the handle, feeling every notch and grain in the wood.
"Come on now, get on with it, there's nothing to be afraid of."
He shrugged off his doubts and raised the wand. Stupid woman. There was always something to be afraid of.
"Imperio!"
Muse: Peter Pettigrew
Fandom: Harry Potter
Words: 1529
Peter had never been much of a drinker. It took a rare talent for alcohol consumption to keep up with James or Sirius, although part of him had always despised Remus for being too uptight and virtuous to even try. Later on…well spying and drinking really don't mix. Not if you want to last longer than it takes for the firewhisky to pass across your tongue, in any case.
However, twelve, almost thirteen years spent as a rat could really give you a craving for something - anything - that wasn't water. Or god forbid, milk. It had made him choke even as a child. After weeks of travel and scavenging for scraps on the way to Albania, and a day of checking out the local woods for promising leads on his Lord's whereabouts, a spot of self-indulgence was just what he needed. If he wasn't mistaken, he'd seen an inn around here as he'd scurried past this morning. He searched for the notes and coins he'd been stashing in the pocket of his stolen coat - probably enough to get him blind drunk, and maybe there'd be enough for a real bed for the night if he wasn't too fussy. Right now, he couldn't think of anything he'd rather spend it on.
He licked his lips nervously in anticipation, hurrying out of the woods with the ill-fitting overcoat wrapped tightly around him. If only he had a wand he'd be able to do better for himself. He allowed himself the quick, implausible fantasy of spellbinding an inn full of people as he ate and drank himself full, took his pick of clothing and a few wallets, perhaps indulged a few other long forgotten urges with the willing or not so willing…but what were the chances of running into another wizard out in the middle of nowhere?
- - - - -
The inn was sparsely populated with locals. Fortunately they seemed to be the type to pretty much ignore strangers in their midst. Even the barman gave up asking questions when it became clear they had no common language, and made do with grunting his response each time Peter pointed to the shelf of beer bottles and counted coins out on the dusty counter.
He started as something swished to the floor near his feet. He turned his head just in time to almost bump heads with a slightly plump woman with hair scraped untidily into a bun and a rather untidily over-stuffed rucksack over one arm. A flushed face came up to meet his as a triumphant hand waved a small phrasebook, pages a little the worse for wear.
"So sorry," she gasped out breathlessly, "I do keep dropping the dratted thing, and I can't remember what the word for 'tea' is-"
If possible, she looked even more surprised than he felt as her eyes focused on his face. She frowned, unattractive lines creasing her ruddy face behind the spectacles.
"I know you."
He kept his face as blank as possible, though he could feel a tremor in his short laugh. "Oh, I sh-shouldn't think so." There was something familiar about her though…his heart thudded loudly in his chest.
"Bertha Jorkins. And you're-"
He took another swig from his beer and cursed his luck as he saw recognition dawn in her eyes. He thought he remembered the name…a couple of years above him at Hogwarts. There'd be no fooling her for long.
"You're Peter Pettigrew." She reached over towards his free hand and held it up, the missing finger clearly clinching the identification for her. "But…you're supposed to be dead."
She was looking slightly puzzled now. Peter thought quickly. Deny everything, that was the way.
"Never heard of him, sorry." His grip on the bottle tightened as his thoughts ran in circles; need a wand, must be a witch, how the hell…where would she keep it? How was he going to get rid of the woman without a wand? She was clearly physically stronger than him and had probably not had to survive for the past few weeks by raiding dustbins on her way across Europe. He didn't even have enough money to help her drink herself to death. Although it might even the odds a little…
"Why don't you join me for a drink, and you can tell me all about this bloke…Peter, was it?" He kept a careful eye on her movements as they moved over to a table.
"That's right. Peter Pettigrew." The excitement was slightly marred by a touch of uncertainty now, but her eyes were bright behind the dusty lenses. "I was at school with him…I never thought he was the heroic type, I must say. He was killed by a man named Sirius Black, blown up in front of muggles in a shocking murder, and-"
"Muggles?" Peter interrupted, hiding his face behind another gulp of his beer.
She opened her mouth to answer before slowly closing it again. "Well, perhaps now isn't the time…but Pettigrew would know what I meant."
The uncertainty was back again, and she pulled vaguely at a slowly unwinding strand of hair for a moment.
"Well, let's see…I found myself out in Spain, oh…about 12 years ago. I don't remember how I got there and I wasn't sure of my name. I've called myself 'James' as that seemed familiar."
He ignored the hand that flew to her chest at the mention of the name. Women were so emotional. "But unless your friend disappeared around then, I'm afraid I can't be him." He hoped it was enough.
She practically exploded in her excitement. "Oh! I knew it! To think…not dead after all, just…oh you poor, poor man. And how the wizarding world will honour you, when it finds out the hero is alive after all." From the gleam in her eye the fact that her own story would be worth something had not escaped her.
"Wizarding world….?" He did his best to look confused. "Are you sure you haven't had one too many?" He nodded towards the beer bottles.
"No, no!" She clasped his hand in her rather damp fingers, and looked around the room distractedly. "I can explain…but not here."
He nodded, even as his heart leapt at the ease of the opportunity. "Come with me." He put down the beer and hauled her heavy rucksack onto his shoulder, buckling a little under the weight. Fortunately, she made no objections and followed him out into the night.
- - - - -
The woods were pitch black now, and after his explorations of the day he was far too wary to enter them at night, even if the woman would follow him in there. Instead he guided her towards the village - there were plenty of isolated spots along the way that would shelter them until morning and hide the body for some time.
"It's an exciting time to rejoin the wizarding world, too, Mr Pettigrew." Her voice was a little breathless as she kept up with his scurrying pace.
God, but the woman could blather on. His eyes darted ahead, looking for the entrance to the riverbank, an ideal place to shut her up once and for all.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, indeed. Why, the World Cup, everyone is going to that, and the Triwizard Tournament being reinstated - such a busy time at the Ministry we hardly know what to do with ourselves."
She was from the Ministry? A rush of panic overwhelmed him. Her disappearance might be investigated, especially if she was on Ministry business or they knew where she had gone. It might be as well to have her seen in a few other spots before killing her, after all. He groaned at the thought of staying in her company for longer than absolutely necessary, but...
"Are you all right there, Mr Pettigrew?"
"Peter. Call me Peter." He attempted a smile, and she simpered a little in return. Ah, they were almost there. "And yes…I think so. It's…it's all a little hard to take in, you know. I can't say that I feel much like a wizard. How do I know you're not having me on?"
"I can prove it."
As he hoped, she looked for a spot to rest and led the way through the small gate that led down to the riverbank. He settled her rucksack on the ground as soon as they were out of sight of the road. She unzipped and felt around until she produced a long wooden rod and offered it to him handle first.
"Now just take firm hold and say 'Lumos' - you'll see." She beamed at him eagerly, moonlight glinting off her glasses.
He hesitated for a moment. Get her out of the way and leave the body, or lay a false trail and maybe see what else she was useful for...oh he'd almost forgotten how good a wand felt in his hand. He curled his fingers tightly around the handle, feeling every notch and grain in the wood.
"Come on now, get on with it, there's nothing to be afraid of."
He shrugged off his doubts and raised the wand. Stupid woman. There was always something to be afraid of.
"Imperio!"
Muse: Peter Pettigrew
Fandom: Harry Potter
Words: 1529