A/N: The smell of bitter oranges brings back memories of the woman who Peter just now realized was really looking out for him.
Submission for:
Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): Armani Code Luna - petitgrain - Peter Pettigrew
Ascend-The-Ladder Competition!: Round 1 - A familiar smell
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Peter stood among the other black cloaks, his attention focused not on Dolohov's instructions for their raid but on the overpowering smell around them. His nostrils burnt from the acrid smell of bitter oranges from the tree above them in the backyard of a Muggle home. He hadn't been this suffocated by the smell since he last hugged his mum almost ten years ago, the scent of petitgrain lingering on her skin.
It was one of her favourites, her trademark and it helped him often as a child when he was making mischief. He could smell her a mile away, enabling him to make a quick getaway before the smell got too strong and his nose began to run.
It was there for breakfasts, lunches, dinners, bedtimes, bathtimes, birthdays, Christmases, and it was even on all the letters she had ever sent to him while at Hogwarts. It was a smell he associated with love and care, worry and regret. His mother was there for him like no one else one, she believed him like no one else could and she wanted the best for him. He doubted she would be happy with his life choices and where they had led him to.
There was a sudden longing in his heart now. He wished he could hug her one more time, to smell it in her embrace and feel like home again, like he belonged and was loved again. She would return his feelings and listen to his woes and sins, forgive him for his wrongs for he was truly regretful for everything in his life.
"Rat, you listening?" Dolohov barked, pulling him back to the situation to hand.
Peter squeaked. He had heard nothing of what the man had said but he knew not ask him to repeat. He would just have to push the smell out of his head and follow someone else's lead, as he had been all his life.