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Another Marauder [Harry Potter]
Title: Another Marauder
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Peter has a moment of rebelliousness and regret amidst his days as a Death Eater.
Characters: Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, James Potter
Rating/Warnings: PG
AN: For hh_writersblock Challenge #28
Word Count: 1130
Another Marauder
"Potter! Consider spending some time in class instead of snogging in the broom closet!"
James, lithe as the lion he was sorted after, spun on one foot and fired a hex at Severus Snape. Snape dodged, but as usual when it came to fighting James or Sirius, he simply was not fast enough.
"Peloplumos!" James cast. "You're lucky I'm dating Lily," James said, drawing himself up to full height. "I don't think she'd approve if I actually hurt you. I understand how difficult it must be, your nose being so large, to keep it in its own business, but maybe you ought to try more often."
"Good one," Peter snickered.
"Damn right it is," James nodded.
"I hate him. I really do. I don't like to say so, but of everyone on the face of this Earth, I think I really bloody hate him."
"Me too," Peter bobbed his head.
"I mean like--"
"I know what you mean," Peter interrupted. "Now let's get on before we're late to Charms."
"That's right," James looked down at Peter, but his large brown eyes seemed to look through Peter for a moment.
"He's not worth your time, really," Peter added, tapping James on the shoulder to break the eerie stare.
James' eyes came into focus. "No. No, you're right, he's not. Git." James shrugged and wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulder to pull Peter along to Charms.
*****
"Wormtail."
It was the way Snape said it that made Wormtail want to wretch. This was not what that nickname had been for. It wasn't supposed to be a an epithet, not meant to be drawled lazily or spat sickeningly.
"Wormtail, the sedative kit is in the cupboard, can you-- No, on second thought, I'd better. Wouldn't want you to touch something and kill yourself. Well, I might, but the Dark Lord would be displeased, Merlin knows why." Snape skirted right past Wormtail and towards his potions cupboard in his study, removing a small leather case. He set some vials out on a table and began mixing. Peter watched from the doorway.
Until Snape noticed him. "For all of our sakes, Wormtail, go hide back in the basement where you belong."
All. Our. Who else was there left? "Yes, Snivellus," Peter answered.
Snape's head snapped up at once, and small dark eyes captured Peter's. "What. Did. You. Call. Me?"
"Se-- Severus, my lord, Severus."
"I'm not your lord," Snape answered, "and I know that's not what you said."
Peter took a step backwards, afraid, but also aware that Snape already wanted to kill him. The Dark Lord wouldn't allow it, and The Dark Lord trusted Snape to do what he was told. That's why Peter was here, and not with the LeStranges or the Malfoys or even living on his own.
"Your hair is looking lovely today, my lord," Peter stammered, still backing up a bit. Snape stared at him for a minute, sensing that something was coming, but when it didn't, he turned back to his potions.
"Peloplumos!," Peter cast. Snape's hair turned a ridiculous shade of purple. It was the same spell, and the same color, that James had willed it that day in the hallway in their sixth year. It had been fall, Peter remembered, and they'd been on their way to potions, when Snape had made some antagonistic remark that vaguely involved Evans. Peter could no longer remember exactly what it was that Snape had said.
"I missed the purple, though," Peter gasped, wheezing for breath between laughs. "Tell me again, how exactly your hair ended up this brilliant shade of purple? That first time?" A moment later, Snape had Peter backed against a wall, with a wand trained directly at his throat.
"You killed them, scum. Rat. You. Not me."
"Really, that's not entirely how I remember it," Peter gasped, even now sure that Snape would not kill him. "I was weak. You know how weak I am. I'm not strong, not magnificent like you are, Severus. I'm not meant to be in these situations."
Slowly, Snape answered him, "I wish I could dash your brains out here on the office flo--"
"Yes well, you can't," Peter interrupted, feeling absolutely giddy with this minute display of rebellion. He'd forgotten how intoxicating freedom could be. It felt familiar, like days back in school, like running through the hallway and the way the acid from his stomach would rise into his mouth in sheer excitement. Some nights he would have heartburn so badly he couldn't sleep, his excitement had run so high. That was over now, though. They were gone.
Remus, a small voice said in his head. No, Remus wasn't gone, but Remus would kill him. Faster than Snape was likely to, at least, so if he valued his life, he'd keep away from his last remaining friend. Remus did not think of Peter as a friend, and who could blame him?
"You overheard something. You were the reason Voldemort even needed me. You were the reason he tracked me down. You killed them," Peter spat. And then, for the first time ever in his life, he felt it: the hatred that James had spoken of. In that moment, he hated Snape. The emotion was more powerful than any emotion he had ever felt. "You killed my friends," he muttered it, a realization. "You were the one that doomed us all." Peter was surprised to find that he was crying.
Snape pushed him violently to the floor. "Your absurd delusions are upsetting my work. Get down into the cellar, and I never want you to come out without my permission. Guard the prisoners. And think about the fact that you like to blame others for your actions. Amazing, really, that you killed him! Blaming me, you're just exactly the same as Potter. How someone so pitiful and disgusting as you can even dare to be arrogant is completely beyond me." Snape kicked him. "Go." Peter never even rose to his feet. He crawled all the way to the next room, to the cellar stairs, and lowered himself down them. He cried the entire way. The fact was, Snape had been to blame, but Snape alone had not been to blame.
"I killed them," he sobbed, when he found a cool corner of the basement. The hatred he had felt a moment before, blazing towards Snape, had turned on himself almost just as suddenly. From hatred had spring once again fear, though of what he did not know.
*****
"What the bloody hell is that?" Bella kicked a foot with the toe of her black boot.
"A dead rat," Snape drawled.
"Get him out of here," Bella waved her hand.
Snape pulled out a wand and vanished the body without a moment's hesitation.
"Disgusting the way you keep this place."
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Peter has a moment of rebelliousness and regret amidst his days as a Death Eater.
Characters: Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, James Potter
Rating/Warnings: PG
AN: For hh_writersblock Challenge #28
Word Count: 1130
Another Marauder
"Potter! Consider spending some time in class instead of snogging in the broom closet!"
James, lithe as the lion he was sorted after, spun on one foot and fired a hex at Severus Snape. Snape dodged, but as usual when it came to fighting James or Sirius, he simply was not fast enough.
"Peloplumos!" James cast. "You're lucky I'm dating Lily," James said, drawing himself up to full height. "I don't think she'd approve if I actually hurt you. I understand how difficult it must be, your nose being so large, to keep it in its own business, but maybe you ought to try more often."
"Good one," Peter snickered.
"Damn right it is," James nodded.
"I hate him. I really do. I don't like to say so, but of everyone on the face of this Earth, I think I really bloody hate him."
"Me too," Peter bobbed his head.
"I mean like--"
"I know what you mean," Peter interrupted. "Now let's get on before we're late to Charms."
"That's right," James looked down at Peter, but his large brown eyes seemed to look through Peter for a moment.
"He's not worth your time, really," Peter added, tapping James on the shoulder to break the eerie stare.
James' eyes came into focus. "No. No, you're right, he's not. Git." James shrugged and wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulder to pull Peter along to Charms.
*****
"Wormtail."
It was the way Snape said it that made Wormtail want to wretch. This was not what that nickname had been for. It wasn't supposed to be a an epithet, not meant to be drawled lazily or spat sickeningly.
"Wormtail, the sedative kit is in the cupboard, can you-- No, on second thought, I'd better. Wouldn't want you to touch something and kill yourself. Well, I might, but the Dark Lord would be displeased, Merlin knows why." Snape skirted right past Wormtail and towards his potions cupboard in his study, removing a small leather case. He set some vials out on a table and began mixing. Peter watched from the doorway.
Until Snape noticed him. "For all of our sakes, Wormtail, go hide back in the basement where you belong."
All. Our. Who else was there left? "Yes, Snivellus," Peter answered.
Snape's head snapped up at once, and small dark eyes captured Peter's. "What. Did. You. Call. Me?"
"Se-- Severus, my lord, Severus."
"I'm not your lord," Snape answered, "and I know that's not what you said."
Peter took a step backwards, afraid, but also aware that Snape already wanted to kill him. The Dark Lord wouldn't allow it, and The Dark Lord trusted Snape to do what he was told. That's why Peter was here, and not with the LeStranges or the Malfoys or even living on his own.
"Your hair is looking lovely today, my lord," Peter stammered, still backing up a bit. Snape stared at him for a minute, sensing that something was coming, but when it didn't, he turned back to his potions.
"Peloplumos!," Peter cast. Snape's hair turned a ridiculous shade of purple. It was the same spell, and the same color, that James had willed it that day in the hallway in their sixth year. It had been fall, Peter remembered, and they'd been on their way to potions, when Snape had made some antagonistic remark that vaguely involved Evans. Peter could no longer remember exactly what it was that Snape had said.
"I missed the purple, though," Peter gasped, wheezing for breath between laughs. "Tell me again, how exactly your hair ended up this brilliant shade of purple? That first time?" A moment later, Snape had Peter backed against a wall, with a wand trained directly at his throat.
"You killed them, scum. Rat. You. Not me."
"Really, that's not entirely how I remember it," Peter gasped, even now sure that Snape would not kill him. "I was weak. You know how weak I am. I'm not strong, not magnificent like you are, Severus. I'm not meant to be in these situations."
Slowly, Snape answered him, "I wish I could dash your brains out here on the office flo--"
"Yes well, you can't," Peter interrupted, feeling absolutely giddy with this minute display of rebellion. He'd forgotten how intoxicating freedom could be. It felt familiar, like days back in school, like running through the hallway and the way the acid from his stomach would rise into his mouth in sheer excitement. Some nights he would have heartburn so badly he couldn't sleep, his excitement had run so high. That was over now, though. They were gone.
Remus, a small voice said in his head. No, Remus wasn't gone, but Remus would kill him. Faster than Snape was likely to, at least, so if he valued his life, he'd keep away from his last remaining friend. Remus did not think of Peter as a friend, and who could blame him?
"You overheard something. You were the reason Voldemort even needed me. You were the reason he tracked me down. You killed them," Peter spat. And then, for the first time ever in his life, he felt it: the hatred that James had spoken of. In that moment, he hated Snape. The emotion was more powerful than any emotion he had ever felt. "You killed my friends," he muttered it, a realization. "You were the one that doomed us all." Peter was surprised to find that he was crying.
Snape pushed him violently to the floor. "Your absurd delusions are upsetting my work. Get down into the cellar, and I never want you to come out without my permission. Guard the prisoners. And think about the fact that you like to blame others for your actions. Amazing, really, that you killed him! Blaming me, you're just exactly the same as Potter. How someone so pitiful and disgusting as you can even dare to be arrogant is completely beyond me." Snape kicked him. "Go." Peter never even rose to his feet. He crawled all the way to the next room, to the cellar stairs, and lowered himself down them. He cried the entire way. The fact was, Snape had been to blame, but Snape alone had not been to blame.
"I killed them," he sobbed, when he found a cool corner of the basement. The hatred he had felt a moment before, blazing towards Snape, had turned on himself almost just as suddenly. From hatred had spring once again fear, though of what he did not know.
*****
"What the bloody hell is that?" Bella kicked a foot with the toe of her black boot.
"A dead rat," Snape drawled.
"Get him out of here," Bella waved her hand.
Snape pulled out a wand and vanished the body without a moment's hesitation.
"Disgusting the way you keep this place."