A/N: I don't really like Peter Pettigrew, but my head's been rushing with ideas and I had to write this. I'll be saying almost the exact same thing when I post a oneshot about Regulus Black.
Disclaimer: Never owned it, never will.
Clean Hands
"Wormtail? Where are you?"
Peter ignores Bellatrix's call. He stands in front of one of the loos in Lucius Malfoy's house. He ignores the war that is going on. He ignores the fact that Potter, Weasley, and Granger are currently imprisoned inside the house, along with several others. He ignores it all.
A long forgotten memory surfaces in his head. One of his mother bending down as she looks three-year-old Peter straight in the eye and he sits on the sofa, scared. He just hit one of his friends, something his mum told him never to do.
"Now, Peter," she says, laying her hands on his legs. "Peter, you've done something wrong, something bad. Do you know what you did wrong?"
Peter's eyes widens. "I hit my friend?" he squeaks out, cowering.
"Yes, Peter," his mother says softly. "Yes. That wasn't very nice, was it?"
Peter shakes his head, watery eyes still widened.
"You'll have to apologize to Willie tomorrow, won't you?"
Peter nods, his chubby hands pushing down on the sofa tightly.
"But first, Peter," she says, "You should wash your hands."
"Uh – uh – okay," Peter murmurs. "I'll ask Daddy to use the cleaning spell on me."
"No, Peter! Don't have Daddy use a cleaning spell."
"Why – why not?"
"Because you need to wash your hands with running water, water that doesn't come from a spell, and some nice soap. It's the right way. You see, when you clean your hands after you've done something bad –"
"Like hitting Willie?"
"Yes, Peter, like hitting Willie, you wash your hands. That way, you've washed yourself of your crimes."
Though he isn't sure he understands, Peter nods. "Oh," he says.
"Yes, Peter. Now run along to the loo and wash your hands, with soap and water."
"Okay, Mummy." Peter jumps off the sofa and runs to the loo. He'll wash his hands and be cleansed of his crimes. He does the same thing for years, even in his Hogwarts years, mostly because he's underage and he's not very good with cleaning spells.
But after he turned seventeen, he stopped. He would just use a cleaning spell, because it was just so – so easy.
And after he was seventeen, Peter joined the Dark Lord. He betrayed James and Lily. He framed Sirius. He hid as a pet rat for years because he couldn't face his crimes, because he was a coward. He gave his master a human form again, so he could destroy James's son.
And in all that time, Peter never washed his hands with soap and running water.
Now Peter stares at his hands. They're clean, especially his shining, silver one, but now they look filthy, absolutely caked with mud and garbage. He can't even spot a faint twinkle from his smooth silver hand, nor any of his hand's natural skin color, because they're so horribly dirty.
Peter thinks of his mother, and rushes into the loo right in front of him, and turns on the sink. He washes his hands with running water, and uses the spotless soap that lies in its small bowl. He scrubs and rubs his hands with water and soap for as long as he can, paying attention to nothing else. He stays washing his hands, until he hears a roar: "Wormtail!" It is the voice of Lucius. Are Potter and his friends attempting to escape? Hurriedly, Peter dries his hands with a towel and rushes out of the loo.
And when Peter dies the rather un-noble death of his silver hand strangling him, he actually feels rather glad, because he departs from the world with clean hands, hands that have been washed of their crimes.
A/N: Constructive criticism appreciated.