HP: Pettigrew
Gen Fic Peter
Rated G
289 words
She'd slammed the door for the 4th time that day. Peter stood on the other side of it wondering just which part of himself was to blame this time. Ever since he could remember, he'd been the clumsiest little boy on the block. He had numerous cuts and scrapes, scars that lined the insides of his arms, and the shins of his legs. Staring at one of them now, he took a step back into the hall and then out into the cozy living room of their house.
It'd been just him and his mum since as far back as time allowed. There were no pictures of his father, but Peter suspected that Mum kept at least one or two in a drawer in her room. Sometimes at night, Peter would sleep against her closed door and hear sniffling from within. It wasn't that his Mum didn't love him. Maybe it was that she loved him too much. Expected too much. He hurt her far too often with his forgetfulness and his accidents.
"Stupid Peter..." he muttered to himself as he turned on the telly. He must have forgotten to take out the trash. She really hated that. "..why can't you just remember? It's a simple enough job. Stupid."
There was an overwhelming thickness to the air, every time she got angry. Much later in his life, Peter would think of that thickness among the very depths of hissing darkness, and cold sweating nights.
Sirius, and James thought it had been very difficult for Peter to become an animagus. But in the end, they'd thought wrong. That warm fur had been the easiest and most natural thing in the world to slip into, and Peter felt right at home.
Rated G
289 words
She'd slammed the door for the 4th time that day. Peter stood on the other side of it wondering just which part of himself was to blame this time. Ever since he could remember, he'd been the clumsiest little boy on the block. He had numerous cuts and scrapes, scars that lined the insides of his arms, and the shins of his legs. Staring at one of them now, he took a step back into the hall and then out into the cozy living room of their house.
It'd been just him and his mum since as far back as time allowed. There were no pictures of his father, but Peter suspected that Mum kept at least one or two in a drawer in her room. Sometimes at night, Peter would sleep against her closed door and hear sniffling from within. It wasn't that his Mum didn't love him. Maybe it was that she loved him too much. Expected too much. He hurt her far too often with his forgetfulness and his accidents.
"Stupid Peter..." he muttered to himself as he turned on the telly. He must have forgotten to take out the trash. She really hated that. "..why can't you just remember? It's a simple enough job. Stupid."
There was an overwhelming thickness to the air, every time she got angry. Much later in his life, Peter would think of that thickness among the very depths of hissing darkness, and cold sweating nights.
Sirius, and James thought it had been very difficult for Peter to become an animagus. But in the end, they'd thought wrong. That warm fur had been the easiest and most natural thing in the world to slip into, and Peter felt right at home.