chasing fortune and fame

In the short while Peter had known Lily, he was fairly certain he had done nothing to offend her. Sitting on the bed in his hotel room, he went through every interaction and read most of the texts they had sent each other, trying to find out if he had done something wrong. Lily knew Peter was going on stage tonight with Sirius for his first guest appearance. They were in Philadelphia, and there was about a week until the tour moved to New York. Peter had a surprise appearance at one of the three shows in New York, which was the night Lily had tickets to. 

Peter had called Lily multiple times over the past few days and sent about a dozen texts. The former were simply wondering why she wasn’t replying; the latter were more worried about whether she was alive. Peter didn’t have any mutual friends with her, so there was no one he could ask. He couldn’t even check up on her because he had been in Philadephia for multiple days. Sure, he was going on stage and had been to the concert the previous night, but there was also an artist he had met up with to record and produce a song for Sealed with a Kiss. 

Ted Tonks, whom he was working with, had requested to meet Peter again at noon to put the finishing touches on the song. Peter didn’t have to be at Sirius’ venue until around six in the afternoon, so he had no objections. They were meeting in a few hours, and Peter knew he should have breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant, but he couldn’t will himself to move from his bed. 

Since Peter and Lily met, they had become close friends. Peter recalled staying up with her on the phone until the early morning when he really should have been sleeping. She ran book ideas by him while he ran lyrics by her. They had told each other about their pasts and confided in each other about their dreams and fears. 

But now, Lily had fallen off the face of the Earth, and Peter needed someone to tell him his nerves were doing their best to freak him out and that he shouldn’t have been worried and everything would be fine. He supposed he could have called James, but he was busy working on his big movie, and Lily understood him in a way James didn’t. They just clicked well. Perhaps not the way James and Sirius did, but close. Close enough for Peter. 

Staring at his call log, Lily’s name in red, Peter decided he needed to get up. He threw his phone onto the other side of the bed and figured he would see Lily at the concert in New York. Peter knew the seat numbers because Sirius asked where Lily wanted to sit. He would find her before the concert, and she would tell him that her phone had broken. Yes, that was it. Her phone probably wasn’t working, and she was still getting a replacement. Peter had always been able to overthink until reality was warped with possibilities. Those possibilities typically only had a slightly higher than zero percent chance of happening. Still, when you thought about them enough, it could often seem like they were the only options. 

Rather begrudgingly, Peter got ready and went down to eat breakfast. He then returned to his room to ensure he had his wallet. Not long after, he was in the back of a car, heading to the same studio he and Ted had worked at the past few days. Ted was already waiting in the studio when Peter arrived. As Peter set his stuff on a nearby table and his jacket on a chair, Ted was tinkering with the recordings and production they had done already. 

Peter watched as he listened to a clip of the recording, went back a couple of seconds, listened to it again, and repeated it at least three times. Instead of saying something, Peter tried to figure out what Ted was trying to fix. He tuned in on each of the instruments playing and couldn’t figure out what to fix. They were all playing correctly. It was just that–

“It’s missing something,” Ted said, leaning away from the computer and turning to face Peter. 

Yes, that was it. “Play it again,” Peter instructed, and Ted played it again. Peter tried to envision what could fill the emptiness as the audio rolled. He pulled a chair next to where Ted sat, running a hand through his short, brown hair. “What can we add?” 

“Another instrument would make it too cluttered and would probably mess up the vibe,” Ted reasoned out loud. 

“The space isn’t big enough for more lyrics,” Peter said slowly, thinking. “We could always add vocalization. Some humming or ‘ahs’ in the background, really lightly, though.” Peter softly sang an example of each without putting much effort into it just to show Ted what he should do. 

Ted smiled. “That’s great. Get in the recording booth, and we’ll get it on the recording,” he said, nudging his head toward the booth. 

“No, I couldn’t,” Peter resisted. “It’s just you on the track.” 

“Actually,” Ted said slowly, pulling a paper from under his bag. Peter recognized it as the sheet on which they had written the official lyrics. Ted liked to write his final lyrics on paper and then just take photos of them when they were official. “What if you sang this part.” He pointed to a verse. 

“We’ve already recorded that part,” Peter objected. “Ted, you realize this would be erasing hours of work, and we’d have to put those hours in again.”

Ted only shrugged. “I have time. The studio’s booked, and this song is better as a duet anyway. It tells the story better.” Peter opened his mouth to counter with something, but Ted beat him to it. “There really isn’t a reason not to. You have full control over the production of the album, including who sings. Why wouldn’t it be you, Peter?” 

And, well, he really didn’t know what to say to convince Ted otherwise. Besides, he figured it would be good practice for his own album. He would have to sing verses on a song someday, so it might as well have been this one. For God's sake, he would perform live for tens of thousands of people. He could single on a track. 

“Fine, give me the paper before I change my mind.” 

After some vocal warming, trial and error, and eventually good singing, Peter officially had a verse on a song with Ted Tonks. He filled in what was missing from the part they discussed earlier in the session and added some backup vocals to the chorus and bridge. A part of him had been worried that he would have hated singing in the booth and recording his own songs. He knew that was stupid, but he had never actually sung and produced a song. But at least that concern of his was now disproven. 

It was around mid-evening when Ted and Peter finally finished the song–for real, this time. Peter had about an hour to eat before he had to be at the venue to see Sirius perform the first half of his concert and then get on stage with him. 

As he gathered his things, a tall, pale woman with long, curly black hair down to her shoulder blades walked into the room. She had an air of importance to her that Peter just couldn’t describe. If he was being honest, it intimidated him a bit. But there was some familiar about her. He just couldn’t place it. 

“Andy,” Ted beamed, walking to her to kiss her cheek. 

She had a soft but genuine smile on her face. “ Mon amour . Did you guys finish the song?” Andy asked him, switching from perfect French to English with a British accent. 

“We did, yeah. This is Peter,” Ted introduced, gesturing to Peter, who held out his hand toward Andy. 

“Peter Pettigrew. Nice to meet you.” 

Andy took his hand and shook it firmly. “Andromeda Black, but all my friends call me Andy.”

It was the moment that she said Black that Peter made the connection. Andy had to have been one of Sirius’ relatives. They had the same sharp bone structure and hair. Plus, they shared a last name. She had to know him. However, Peter had never met one of Sirius’ relatives. He hadn’t heard much about his family and had kind of assumed they were all dead or dead to him. 

“You wouldn’t by chance know Sirius Black, would you?” Peter asked, hoping he wasn’t stepping over a line or bringing up past traumas. 

Andy’s face lit up in a way Peter associated with delight and shock. “Actually, yes. He’s my cousin. I’m going to his show tonight. Do you know him?” she asked. 

“You could say that,” Peter responded.

Maintaining eye contact, Andy looked like she wanted to say more but decided against it. She and Sirius couldn’t be very close if she had never heard of him. After all, Peter had collaborated with him on so many songs, and he was one of Sirius’ best friends. 

“Well, sweetie, we have that reservation that we have to make before the concert,” Ted said, opening the door as the three of them walked out of the studio. 

“Oh, right. Well, it was nice meeting you, Peter. I can’t wait to hear the song. I’m sure it’s amazing,” Andy said, and it sounded like she was saying it because she believed it, not only to be polite. 

“I’ll see you later, then?” Ted asked, even though they hadn’t clarified when later was. It could have been as far as the premier of Sealed With a Kiss. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, then turned around to start walking toward some restaurant. 

He had to get some food in his system before he performed. Peter knew he would be more nervous than he had ever been in his life. He had done an excellent job of ignoring the fact that he was going on stage in front of so many people until this point, though now it was getting that much harder to push off. Peter wouldn’t have been shocked if he threw up because of anxiety at least once before he went on stage, so he had to make sure he had at least some energy. He didn’t know what it was, but Peter had a feeling that if he got a burger, his nerves would ease tremendously. 

* * *

As Peter watched the first hour of Sirius’ concert, he couldn’t help but let the music at least partially take away his worries. He supposed it helped to see how the crowd was so forgiving when Sirius accidentally sang a lyric wrong. Peter found that it helped to think of the rows and rows of people not as numbers but each as their own individual person. He couldn’t quite get over the fact that many of them knew his name and would be excited to see him perform. 

Just as he was getting his anxiety under control, it was time for him to go backstage so he could get ready. While Peter didn’t have a costume, he had to set his microphone up and do some warm-ups. He was only going on stage for one song. It would be, at most, ten minutes, but Peter’s heart seemingly did not understand this as it beat out of his chest. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. 

Once he was backstage, there were people all around him. One man handed him his guitar while a woman gave him his earpiece. Peter could hear through the walls as Sirius was finishing his last song before his acoustic part of the show. As he was being led to the opening he would walk through onto the stage, Peter felt the immense urge to throw up. 

Earlier, when he had seen how big the stadium was, Peter had raced to the bathroom and vomited there. He was aware that it was dumb. After all, Peter had seen the size of the stadium from the shows he had already attended. But this was the first one he would be playing in. It was nerve-wracking, and he was right to have eaten beforehand. He knew that he wouldn’t have kept anything down at the stadium. 

Peter was on the side of the stage now. Some large speakers and equipment covered him, but he could see the crowd. If he tilted his head far enough, he would have been able to see the enormous screens that broadcasted Sirius to the stadium.  

The notes to the song ended, and there were a few seconds of silence where the lights dimmed, and Sirius caught his breath. Peter had seen this part of the show enough times to know what was happening without seeing it. A backup dancer would be handing Sirius his guitar while another gave him a water bottle to take a sip. A moment later, the lights shone brightly once more, and the screens revealed Sirius’ face again. 

Sirius cleared his throat, and Peter knew his cue was coming soon. “As many of you know, this is the part of the show where it’s just us and a guitar. I always choose a new song from my discography to play because so many of them haven’t been played live before.” There was a pause as the crowd cheered. “This one is from my second album, and it’s really important to me because this was the first album I worked on with one of my best friends. We wrote this song together, and it was so much fun that we decided to do it again and again.” The crowd screamed more excitedly than ever. “He’s actually here right now.” 

Not a second later, Peter walked into the view of over seventy thousand people. Another microphone stand rose next to the one Sirius was speaking into. Peter didn’t know if it was the fact that he was moving down a never-ending stage (he didn’t know how Sirius ran across it that many times in a few hours) or if he was imagining things, but he could have sworn that he had never heard anything quite so loud. Peter took his earpiece out for a second, and it was so much louder than before. He now understood why Sirius loved doing this so much. 

Peter reached Sirius, who clapped him on the back with a large smile. Peter couldn’t help but grin back just as widely. He turned to the mic as he readied his hands for the song on his guitar. “This one’s called Fight or Flight.” He leaned back from the mic as the crowd roared into yells. 

Playing his own guitar, Sirius sang into his microphone. “ Something’s gotten into you. You don’t really look at me the way you used to, ” he began the first verse and made his way into the chorus, where Peter joined in. 

“Well, fight or flight. I’d rather die than have to cry in front of you. Fight or flight. I’d rather lie than tell you I’m in love with you. My eyes are welling up as you admit there’s someone new. It’s my move. Fight or flight. ”

There was an instrumental break, and then Sirius fell back until it was only Peter singing. “ You tell me it ain't what it seems, but, baby, this is looking like a crime scene. There’s clothes thrown on the balcony, and you smell like perfume out a magazine. I’m throwing all your shit out of my window, telling you I wish that we had never spoke. Baby, I already know. ”

Sirius joined back in on the chorus, and they sang Peter’s favorite part, the bridge, together until they finished the song. “ It’s my move. Fight or flight. ” 

With the last strum of the guitar, Peter turned to Sirius, who was already looking at him. There was a moment when everyone else in the crowd just fell away, leaving only Peter and Sirius to marvel at each other and what they had created. They each threw their guitar picks into the sea of people and then met in the middle with an embrace. 

After a moment, Peter and Sirius turned to the crowd, their arms still on the other’s shoulder. Sirius grabbed the microphone from the stand in front of him. “Give it up for Peter Pettigrew, everybody,” Sirius shouted into the mic. 

The crowd was explosive at his command, and Peter unleashed the largest smile he had ever produced. The rush that came from performing was addicting. These people weren’t even there for him, and they made him feel like he was the most important person in the world. He couldn’t imagine how much stronger the feeling would be if a crowd this size came for his songs. Still, even though they were all here for Sirius, Peter could have died right then and there.