Fanfiction - Once Upon a Freakin' Time
Well, I haven't done any fanfiction recently, and I had a little bit of time, so I wrote this. It isn't funny in the way my stories usually are (what with Risk and cannonballs and black licorice), but I hope it still amuses you.
Peter Pettigrew Gets His Own Chapter
It wasn’t that Peter particularly liked his rat form. It was just that it was the only way he could get away from Snape’s incessant sarcasm (“I hate you all.”), Voldemort’s outrageous demands (“Arrange the Death Eater roll alphabetically. Ascending!”), and Lucius’s attempts to find him a robe that flattered his complexion (“Maybe yellow?”).
Plus, he had friends in this form (and a tail, which was awesome, but not really relevant to the context of this story).
Well, maybe not real friends, but close enough. Closer than he’d had in, oh, many, many years. Friends that listened to his problems, didn’t interrupt, and always offered him peanut butter on a cracker.
The two rats had offered him carrion the first time he had visited, and though he understood proper rat nutrition (one did not become an Animagus without doing at least some research), Peter was still human enough to feel extremely grossed out by the offer.
Luckily, his refusal had not put a damper on their relationship.
“It’s just…” started Peter, between small sobs, “I don’t think he really appreciates me. I mean, I know Dark Lords are supposed to be cold and forbidding, but the occasional positive feedback really goes a long way toward maintaining employee morale.”
The first rat squeaked in sympathy.
“I’d do just about anything for him, I really would. Mostly because he would kill me without a second thought, but at least the feeling is real!”
The second rat twitched its tail, and offered Peter more peanut butter.
“Oh, no, thank you. I really appreciate you guys listening to me. Lucius isn’t so bad, but I don’t think he listens to a word I say. Not unless Narcissa or Snape is there, telling him to focus every minute or so.”
The first rat scratched thoughtfully at a flea, and offered a long string of squeaks and chirps that was probably advice, except that Peter (despite his research) had only studied a few years worth of Rat, and was dreadfully out of practice besides, and thus did not understand a word that was said.
“I…I’m sure you’re right,” said Peter, not wanting to be impolite.
The second rat wiggled its nose in counterpoint. The second rat, though very kind to Peter, rarely had anything to add to the conversation.
Peter continued, hoping he and the rats were still having the same conversation, “I’m sorry I keep complaining to you about this, but I don’t know where else to turn. I was thinking about running away, but again, there’s the whole ‘Voldemort will kill me’ problem. Snape keeps telling me I could turn traitor. Again. I hate it when he says things like that. It just reminds me of…well, never mind. You don’t need to hear that story again. Look, I’m sorry I keep bothering you. I’ll just go. Thanks for the peanut butter.”
Feeling a little awkward about getting emotional in front of nearly complete strangers (he didn’t even know there names!), Peter scurried off to face Voldemort, who probably hadn’t even noticed Peter had gone, and if he had, probably would demand that Peter open the pickle jar for him.
The moment Peter had turned back into a human, the first rat said, “I say, Francine. What on earth was that all about?”
“I don’t honestly know, Andrew,” replied the other. “But I certainly wouldn’t be rude enough to turn him away.”
Peter Pettigrew Gets His Own Chapter
It wasn’t that Peter particularly liked his rat form. It was just that it was the only way he could get away from Snape’s incessant sarcasm (“I hate you all.”), Voldemort’s outrageous demands (“Arrange the Death Eater roll alphabetically. Ascending!”), and Lucius’s attempts to find him a robe that flattered his complexion (“Maybe yellow?”).
Plus, he had friends in this form (and a tail, which was awesome, but not really relevant to the context of this story).
Well, maybe not real friends, but close enough. Closer than he’d had in, oh, many, many years. Friends that listened to his problems, didn’t interrupt, and always offered him peanut butter on a cracker.
The two rats had offered him carrion the first time he had visited, and though he understood proper rat nutrition (one did not become an Animagus without doing at least some research), Peter was still human enough to feel extremely grossed out by the offer.
Luckily, his refusal had not put a damper on their relationship.
“It’s just…” started Peter, between small sobs, “I don’t think he really appreciates me. I mean, I know Dark Lords are supposed to be cold and forbidding, but the occasional positive feedback really goes a long way toward maintaining employee morale.”
The first rat squeaked in sympathy.
“I’d do just about anything for him, I really would. Mostly because he would kill me without a second thought, but at least the feeling is real!”
The second rat twitched its tail, and offered Peter more peanut butter.
“Oh, no, thank you. I really appreciate you guys listening to me. Lucius isn’t so bad, but I don’t think he listens to a word I say. Not unless Narcissa or Snape is there, telling him to focus every minute or so.”
The first rat scratched thoughtfully at a flea, and offered a long string of squeaks and chirps that was probably advice, except that Peter (despite his research) had only studied a few years worth of Rat, and was dreadfully out of practice besides, and thus did not understand a word that was said.
“I…I’m sure you’re right,” said Peter, not wanting to be impolite.
The second rat wiggled its nose in counterpoint. The second rat, though very kind to Peter, rarely had anything to add to the conversation.
Peter continued, hoping he and the rats were still having the same conversation, “I’m sorry I keep complaining to you about this, but I don’t know where else to turn. I was thinking about running away, but again, there’s the whole ‘Voldemort will kill me’ problem. Snape keeps telling me I could turn traitor. Again. I hate it when he says things like that. It just reminds me of…well, never mind. You don’t need to hear that story again. Look, I’m sorry I keep bothering you. I’ll just go. Thanks for the peanut butter.”
Feeling a little awkward about getting emotional in front of nearly complete strangers (he didn’t even know there names!), Peter scurried off to face Voldemort, who probably hadn’t even noticed Peter had gone, and if he had, probably would demand that Peter open the pickle jar for him.
The moment Peter had turned back into a human, the first rat said, “I say, Francine. What on earth was that all about?”
“I don’t honestly know, Andrew,” replied the other. “But I certainly wouldn’t be rude enough to turn him away.”