Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. All belongs to JKR, Not me. Nothing belongs to me. Neither do the kents...
A/n: -- another...
Slightly AU, but whatever.
Ficlet number four. I used the Kents only becuase they were the only farming family I knew of in Kansas, so I suppose that does make it a bit of a crossover.
How Peter died. ..
Peter was hiding out in America.
Having deserted Voldemort and the rest of the wizarding world, he was getting accustomed to muggle existence, with minimal use of magic. He worked in a perfectly safe Kansas, working as hired help on a farm, eagerly. It was the perfect undercover.
That is, until they came.
He was innocently working in the field, the family that housed him, the Kents, were doing the same.
Clark was, as usual, doing his super human stunts with Hay. The boy was only fifteen and had actually grown fond of Peter, almost as an uncle. And now it was just the perfect afternoon, the sun setting, and they were just finishing up the days work, while Mrs. Kent would be cooking food Peter had grown to cherish by the day.
But he would never taste her food again.
In a poof of aparated smoke, they stood, dressed in black robes, looking as he had never seen them look before.
Remus, for once, was actually well groomed. His blonde hair had grown to his shoulders and was tied in a loose ponytail, his eyes actually look well rested, and his robes weren't torn or wrinkled. As he saw Peter, he closed his eyes, and bowed his head, almost in a prayer form, though Peter knew better.
He was leaning against the familiar form of Sirius,almost intimately Sirius had shaved, and also seemed to be well rested. His long black hair was loose, and his eyes were clear and calculative, their boyish gleam revived.
The lack of grime and dirt they had all been so accustomed to for so long took quite a few years off of them. They both held their wands in hand, and Peter fell to his knees, pleading for meaningless forgiveness.
"We won the war, Peter." Remus spoke, his eyes still closed. It was then Peter noticed how the two Wizard's hands were entwined. His eyes widened. So they were...
"Voldemort is dead."
"And so is Harry." Sirius snapped, turning his angry gaze to meet Peter's.
"And so are you." Remus finished, finally opening his sharp eyes to look at the pitied mass.
He screwed his eyes shut, waiting expectantly for the fated words to condemn him, 'Avada Kadavra'.
But no.
His eyes snapped open as he felt a firm grip around his neck. Sirius was kneeling on the ground before him, looking at him emotionlessly. His eyes were endless black pits and Peter had a hard time remembering when this gaze had been warm and welcoming.
Shouldn't his life be flashing before his eyes now? Shouldn't he be seeing all the good times spent in his child hood, all the people he'll miss? At the very least all the bad things he's done?
But that only happens to heroes. Something he had turned down long ago. The only way to die a respectful death, for him, was to remain silent, was to accept his judgement.
Behind him, Remus watched, while also keeping the family at bay, he heard them yelling, perhaps Clark was the reason Remus had to shout a spell?
Perhaps Sirius had understood, and this was the last act of friendship. To choke out the shamefull lies. His vocal cords were the very poison responsible for the death of so many.
He closed his eyes, the end was near.
"Peter, you shouldn't have betrayed us." Remus said quietly, a hint of regret in his voice.
Those were the last words he heard as his world faded.
This is a self fulfilling prophesy. I thought to myself, I'll never end up actually writing remus/sirius... and then I couldn't stop.
I hate popular fandom. .