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For the past five days, Peter Pettigrew had barely slept. He hadn't left his home in two days, not even to go to work. He wasn't even sure if he still had a job. It wouldn't be hard for St. Mungo's to find a replacement for him- all he did was mix simple potions and chop ingredients, and he'd become increasingly unreliable besides. However, work seems strangely unimportant when your life and those of everyone you know are constantly in danger.
He poured out a few swallows of firewhiskey and lit a fag. His left forearm throbbed as if it anticipated the searing pain that would come at any moment. He always felt the mark there, even when it wasn't burning black. On nights like this, though, he could think of nothing else. And Peter knew, the burn would be nothing compared to what he'd receive once he arrived before the Dark Lord. Why hadn't he come to him sooner, his lord would ask, and Peter would have no answer. He should have come the second after they'd cast the Fidelius Charm. Then, he'd have been rewarded. He may still be rewarded, but he'll be punished, too. He'd waited until the Dark Lord called; a loyal servant would have come forward eagerly.
Loyal. Fidelius. James. James, and Lily, and little Harry. Peter felt a tear run down his face, and soon he was sobbing uncontrollably. He wasn't even sure why he cried. Was it fear? Guilt? Lack of sleep? Too much firewhiskey? It was all of that and more. His life had become a nightmare, and he wasn't even sure how it happened. Images flashed through his mind, and old feelings returned vividly. Conversations replayed themselves, just as it felt when the Dark Lord invaded Peter's mind.
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THE ORDER
"You're coming with us, aren't you, Wormtail?"
Peter looked up at James, but his voice stuck in his throat. James looked so proud, brave, and valiant, even with his silly hair sticking up like it always did. He stood straight, looking taller than he should, with his hand on Lily's shoulder. James smiled at Peter, but his grin wasn't wild and restless like Sirius's. James's smile was firm and confident, but his brown eyes were bright with life, just as they were before every adventure. But this wasn't an adventure, Peter reminded himself. This was war, and war is terrifying.
"I- I don't know. What good will I do, James? I'm not brave, and clever, and useful like the rest of you. I-"
Remus opened his mouth to speak, but James cut them both off.
"Don't you see, Peter? You're indispensible! You can go anywhere."
Peter gaped. "What! I'm not telling the Order of the Phoenix I'm an Animagus. Some of them are Ministry officials. They'll arrest me!"
Sirius snorted. "You're not going to tell them, dumbass. You're going to bring them so much information that they won't care how you got it."
"You can follow the Death Eaters to their lair," James exclaimed. "Who else can do that?"
"But I don't WANT to go to a Death Eater lair!"
"I do," Sirius grinned darkly. "I want to kill the fucking lot of them."
Peter just winced. He didn't want to kill anyone. Chances are, they'd kill him first. He blinked around the small kitchen, and he realized that everyone was staring at him. Remus frowned, looking worried but not very sympathetic. Lily gave him a kind, encouraging smile. Sirius looked particularly murderous, but Peter hoped that didn't have anything to do with him. James, though.... Peter gazed up at James, and his chest swelled. He couldn't help that he still felt that way sometimes. James thought he was invaluable. James wanted Peter by his side. James....
"C'mon, Peter. Do it for me. You won't regret it, I promise." James gave him that winning grin, and Peter's heart almost burst.
"All right," he heard himself say. Of course, he'd agree to that. He'd do anything for James.
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THE SPY
"I know James and Sirius are frustrated with me, but what can I do? I've told them about Rosier, Dolohov, Rodolphus Lestrange...."
Remus took a long draught of ale, then sighed. "Look, Peter. May I be honest with you?"
"Yes," he squeaked out tentatively. Peter wasn't sure he wanted to hear this.
"The most you're doing is confirming suspicions. That's useful to a certain extent, yes. But do you remember what James said? The night before we went to our first Order meeting, James told you that you have skills no one else does. No one. Now that we're members, we know he's right. The Order has no one like you, and honestly, it seems you're barely trying."
Peter gulped. The war was changing Remus. He would've never been so harsh with Peter back in school. Peter bit his lip, willing himself to sound reasonable. Of course, once he opened his mouth, he just sounded hurt, scared, and stupid.
"I am trying. But I'm not like you, Remus. I'm scared. Terrified. I can't do this! I told James I couldn't do this, and he didn't believe me."
Remus said nothing for several moments. He frowned, turning his chipped glass in his hands. Finally, when he met Peter's eyes, his gaze was hard and almost angry.
"You think I'm not scared. You think you're the only one of us who's afraid. This may surprise you, Peter, but I'm absolutely terrified." He paused again, gazing around his own shabby sitting room. "Have you ever met another werewolf, Peter?"
"No."
"They're like monsters."
"Well, yes, isn't that what everyone thinks? Werewolves are all savage beasts- except for you, of course."
"Of course," Remus echoed distantly. He'd grown thin, and his eyes were dark and hollow. A bright pink scratch ran down one of his pale cheeks. He looked so much older than he had even a few months ago, and Peter felt young and foolish by comparison.
"I'm leaving in two days," Remus continued. "This may be the last time you see me...for quite awhile. The dark creatures are responding to his call, and it's up to me to observe this. But to observe, I have to gain their confidence. I have to be like them."
"You don't have to do this, Remus," Peter blurted. "You're nothing like those dark werewolves! You're one of us. Don't do it, please."
"No. I am one of them, obviously." His voice was cold, and he shuddered. "I also happen to be the only werewolf working for the Order. Believe me, Peter, if I could run away, I would. But I can't. I'll be targeted everywhere I go. And even if I weren't, I couldn't run. I can't abandon the rest of you."
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THE COURAGE
Peter frowned and gnawed at his lip. Even weeks after Remus had left, his words still stung. Remus would never abandon his friends, but wasn't that just what Peter had contemplated? His fear had blinded him to his selfishness. Had he really considered not joining the Order? Would he have honestly stood by, watched his friends risk their lives, and done nothing?
He needed to leave soon. According to what he'd heard- holed up in the walls of Lestrange's home- something big would happen that night. He could learn invaluable information for the Order. For the very first time, Peter felt excited. This is how James and Sirius must feel. He imagined leading a band of Aurors straight to a gathering of Death Eaters. He pictured Dumbledore defeating He Who Musn't Be Named, all thanks to Peter's information. James would be so proud of him.
He imagined James running towards him, embracing him, telling Peter that he's amazing. He closed his eyes, wondering what it would feel like with James's arms around him. And James would be smiling that smile, the one he saves for Lily. Now that she's with child, the smiles James gives her are brighter than ever.
Peter opened his eyes, feeling strange and guilty. He shouldn't be thinking of James like that, especially now, with Lily and the baby. But when he thought of James smiling, he felt brave. He yearned for James to be proud of him. Now that Peter finally had the chance to make that happen, he wasn't going to screw it up.
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THE CAPTURE
Down below Malfoy's cellar, the bravery Peter felt earlier that evening seemed like a dream. He could hear the men's voices, barely muffled, so he sat just outside the correct room. Suddenly, a scream pierced the air, and Wormtail's fur stood on end. He needed to get in the room. He needed to see their faces, to see who screamed and why he screamed. Peter scampered across the floor 'til he found a rickety, subcellar door. The voices were much louder here, and through the inch-tall crack under the door, he saw flashes of colored light.
"Please! I killed them, just as you asked! My Lord, make them stop!"
"You do not make demands of the Dark Lord." The screams and bright light returned.
"He killed them the moment he saw their faces, my Lord. It was a cowardly job. He couldn't bear to hear them screaming, so he offed 'em."
"The bastard felt sorry for the filthy Muggles."
My Lord. Peter's little heart beat so quickly that he thought me might die there, as a rat in Lucius Malfoy's cellar. He couldn't think. Should he enter the room to get a closer look? Should he run off and tell an Auror where You-Know-Who is at that moment? He froze.
"Stop." At the sound of that odd, cold, metallic-sounding voice, everything fell silent. "Open the door. It seems we have a visitor."
No. No. Nonononono.... Peter was petrified. As a pair of heavy footsteps approached the door, he flattened himself against the wall, not daring to make a sound. The door opened, and Peter stayed crouched in the darkness.
"My Lord? There's no one."
A softer set of feet tread to the doorway, preceded by a ray of wandlight.
"Fool," the newcomer said in a low voice. "Homorpho."
The second the spell hit Wormtail, he knew he was dead. His panicked squeaks turned to shrieks, and before he had time to breathe, the two Death Eaters had him bound. They dragged him into the room, flinging him onto the floor like a sack of flour. As he squirmed frantically to no avail, a group of towering, hooded figures surrounded him. He felt his throat constricting, and his screams became desperate wheezes as he struggled for air.
"A spy, my Lord," the low voice said. "Sneaking into my home to watch our proceedings...."
"I'M NOT A SPY," he shrieked before his tightening throat choked off his words.
"Not a spy, is he?" The first man stepped forward and kicked Peter with one of his heavy boots. "Then what was he doin' listening outside?"
"I won't tell them anything, please," Peter gasped.
"Of course, you won't," that low, drawling voice responded. It sent chills down Peter's spine, and suddenly he knew the man. As he loomed over, Peter could see his cold, pale face and white-blond hair. "And perhaps Dumbledore will learn not to send idiots like you to do his dirty work. Crucio!"
The pain coursed through him like fiendfyre. Surely he screamed, but the pain made him blind and deaf. The only sense he had was feeling, and he felt nothing but excruciating pain. When it suddenly stopped, Peter absurdly wondered if he'd died. Then he heard his helpless wheezing and felt his nerves twitching, and he knew it wasn't over yet. As his vision returned, he glimpsed a thin, terrified man crouched in the corner. This must have been the man who'd been screaming before.
"Bring him to me. Let me see what this little man knows."
It was that voice again. The cold, terrible one that made Lucius Malfoy sound like an angel. Peter began screaming again as two men lifted and dragged him across the dusty floor.
"PLEASE! No! I don't know anything! What do you WANT from me?"
"Silence," the voice commanded, and Peter obeyed. "Look at me."
Slowly, Peter raised his eyes. If he thought the man's voice was awful, it was nothing compared to his eyes. He wasn't a man; there was nothing human in those black eyes. It was the fucking devil himself. This was someone so evil and powerful that one had to call him Lord- the Dark Lord. The second before the Dark Lord entered his mind, Peter thought of his friends and allies- James, Sirius, Remus, even Albus Dumbledore.
They're all bloody fools.
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THE DANGER
It was three in the morning, and Sirius Black was shouting.
"They're picking us off like flies! They know our every movement, and how? Who's telling them? It's not me, it's not you, it's not Lily. Who is it, James? Tell me."
"It's. Not. Remus," James gritted out. "And keep your damn voice down, Padfoot. Lily's trying to sleep."
"Then who is it," Sirius hissed. "You can't tell me, can you? Let's think about this, Prongs. The Death Eaters anticipated our attack last Friday. Who could've told them? Me? You? Mad-eye? Dumbledore? Or Remus. Let's see, one of us is not like the others."
"How can you even say this? Look, I have no idea how the Death Eaters got that information, but I know for a fact that neither you nor Moony told them. You wouldn't expect me to sell you out, would you?"
Sirius was silent.
"Exactly. I'd never think that of you, either. Or Remus, or Peter."
When James said Peter's name, Sirius turned to stare at him as if he'd forgotten he was there. For one terrifying moment, Peter thought he'd start accusing him next.
"What do you think, Wormtail? Funny that old Moony's never around anymore, isn't it?"
Peter blinked, shocked that Sirius would ask for his opinion. He's trying to turn me against James, he realized. Sirius needed someone on his side, and Peter was better than no one, wasn't he? He glared at Sirius, suddenly hating him.
"You know what I think? I think you're bloody fools. Don't you see? You're playing right into their hands. If we turn against each other, that means the D- that means You-Know-Who's won!"
"Oh, so you're our very own cheerleader now, are you? Couldn't manage the spying. Can't even heal a broken bone, can you?"
"Sirius, cut it out." James moved behind Peter, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Peter's right. We have to trust each other."
Sirius shook his head, then turned to James with a pained expression. "I just don't want you to get hurt."
"I think that goes without saying. I also think it's time we got some rest." James clapped Peter's shoulder. He trailed Sirius to the door, and they shared a few quiet words. Just before Sirius disapparated, they exchanged a quick embrace. Peter watched in silence. The flutter he'd felt at James's touch settled sickeningly in his stomach as he watched his friends hug. Frowning, he trudged to the door, wondering if James would hug him, too.
"Good-bye, Peter," James said, giving him a tired smile. "Be careful."
Peter nodded. "You too. 'Bye, James." He lingered until a look of confusion crossed James's face, and then he disapparated with a sharp snap.
Back home, Peter sank into his bed fully clothed. James and Sirius were scared. Moony and Padfoot no longer trusted each other. Dumbledore's men were dying. Even until that night, he'd hoped desperately that the Order could protect him. He'd been giving the Death Eaters information for months, but it wasn't because Peter was one of them. He had to, or they'd track him down and murder him- not before getting the information first, of course. They'd torture him until he broke, and if that failed, they'd bring him before the Dark Lord. One look into those eyes cracked Peter's mind wide open. No one as weak as he could overcome something so powerful.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, but his tears still came. Be careful, he heard James say. The world was too dangerous for being careful; every action seemed wild and desperate. Peter could try to stay safe, though. The Dark Lord offered protection to those who were loyal. What had Dumbledore ever promised anyone? Certainly not safety, Peter knew. He cried until he passed out from exhaustion, but before sleep took him, he made a decision. He vowed to remain safe, and for that, he needed to prove his loyalty.
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THE MARK
Peter went to the Dark Lord terrified and willing. Even after months of liason, his servants did not trust Peter. "The double-crosser," he heard them mutter and spit as he passed. He flinched at every word, but his steps never faltered. One false move, and he'd be dead for sure.
The Death Eaters formed a close circle around their master, and each held his wand at the ready. When Peter reached the Dark Lord's feet, he fell eagerly to his knees. His legs couldn't support him a moment longer, and frankly, he was desperate for this to be done.
"M-my lord and master. I beg of you, allow me to serve you. Make me your own, my lord. Let me become yours, b-body and soul." Peter shut his eyes. Would he sound desperate with his halting squeak of a voice, or just pathetic?
He could feel the Dark Lord finding him wanting.
"Open your eyes, Wormtail. Can you serve a master that you cannot bear to look upon?"
"My lord, I- I fear you, my lord." Peter answered honestly, forcing his eyes open. He stared determinedly at the hem of the Dark Lord's robes.
"It is wise to do so. But tell me, Wormtail. Your friends do not fear me. They are foolish, and soon they will die for it. Does that pain you? Have you no lingering affection for your old friends?"
It was pointless to lie. For a long moment, Peter was silent, and then he lifted his gaze. Meeting the Dark Lord's eyes took every ounce of his strength. But when he met that dark, powerful, penetrating stare, Peter spoke the truth with ease.
"I wish I could save them."
He wished he could save James from believing so strongly. James was blind to the truth- they all were. James, Remus, and Sirius already made their choices, and now Peter had made his. They were all going to die, but why couldn't they see it? As his master began the incantation, Peter's mind flashed through images of James smiling at him, James smiling at Lily, Lily smiling and pregnant with James's child. He didn't want them to die; he didn't want anyone to die. As the wand finally touched his skin, the pain of the Mark overcame that of James's smile.
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THE SECRET KEEPER
Little Harry looked just like his father. Peter tried to hold him, but they both burst out crying. Lily made him a cup of tea and sympathized, agreeing the war was putting them all through the wringer.
"That's why we need you, Wormtail," James said, taking the squalling babe from Peter's arms. "He's coming after Harry. I need you to save my son's life."
Peter rubbed his streaming eyes with the heel of his hand. "I can't, James! I'm not strong enough. Ask Sirius again, please!"
"No. Sirius is right. He'll be the first one targeted. Who better to keep our secret than my best mate? No, we've got to outsmart them."
"But I-"
"I've explained this all before, Peter. You know why it has to be you. So, will you help us or not?"
"Please, Peter," Lily asked softly, placing a steaming cup in front of him. "I know you're afraid. We all are, but we still need to do what's right."
Peter looked up at James. He determinedly ignored Lily, who'd taken the child in her arms. As he stared into James's expectant eyes, Peter allowed himself to realize something. He was dispensible. Sirius was the best mate, the one James trusted, embraced, and treated like a brother. Lily was the love of his life, the one James had pledged to spend eternity with. But Peter, to whom James meant everything, was basically nothing.
"I'll do it," he whispered, his voice still wavering. "I'll do it for you, James."
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Of course, he knew how it happened. Once he'd taken the Mark, there was no way out. Would anyone ever understand that? He had to divulge the secret. The Dark Lord knew Peter's every thought, and he'd know his servant Wormtail had something to hide. Even if his master couldn't access the secret itself, he'd know the thoughts surrounding it.
He'd never wanted any of it. The Order, the spying, the Death Eaters, the Secret Keeper- he'd done it all for James, and now Peter was going to kill him. Sobbing, he put his fag out onto the table. As the singed wood hissed, Peter's arm began to burn. He stumbled out of his seat and reached for his wand. Just before he left home, Peter marveled at how relieved he felt. Amidst his fear and pain, he couldn't wait to put an end to this.