COLD HAND OF SILVER
"You owe me, Wormtail!"
The words echoed inside Wormtail's head, as did the remembrance of that one occasion – of Sirius, so angry… of Harry, kind enough to save him even if it wasn't for pity…
A twinge pressed through Wormtail's heart, then throughout his body. He began to feel sick, began to feel thoughts roll through his head, tossing and turning, going about, unintelligible… There was only one way to relieve it…
His grip slackened ever so slightly. Wormtail felt his body shaking in an effort to keep the fingers loosened, to not let that silver appendage continue with what it wanted – what he had wanted.
Then Potter tore away from him, gasping, looking completely and utterly baffled, and Wormtail knew what he'd done. The realization was so real, so breathtaking, that he felt as though cold water had splashed across his body. He could already feel his fingers jerking, out of his control, furious at his actions.
This wasn't what he wanted.
Wormtail struggled, weak against the boys who held him at bay. They were real warriors, fighting for their friend. They were always at one another's sides.
And look at me.
But still the greed, the selfishness, won again. He would make all well by capturing the Potter boy and by killing his friend… The green light would not be seen as the last thing before his eyes but by Potter's, and he, Wormtail, would finally have it all. He would be at the side of his master, never to fear him again because he'd captured Potter.
But his head had already connected to the wall with a bang. The stars were in his eyes, popping through his vision, and in his momentary weakness the wand slid out of his grip. Incoherent, barely able to hear, Wormtail did not catch the thread of words slipping out of the ginger's mouth, but he knew well enough what had happened.
They had taken his wand, leaving him defenseless and pitiful.
They had taken his wand, giving him no way to defend himself.
They had taken his wand, giving him no way to fulfill his wishes.
He hadn't wanted this – it was all going so wrong… But it had already gone wrong. It had already gone wrong far before this and far before he could even try to stop it.
It had all gone wrong because of James and Lily. It was their fault.
No, Wormtail, it was because of you.
The fingers jerked with new fervor. Wormtail's eyes widened. He began to feel fear starting up in his mind and panic flooding through him. He felt the silver hand, so alien on his own living skin, shudder for a split second before closing around his throat as quickly as Nagini when she struck.
Coldness flooded around Wormtail's skin, tightening painfully but slowly. Voldemort was making him suffer… He had never trusted him…
But my friends did…
Wormtail turned his head, trying to push away those invisible demons coming towards him like dementors… His free hand clasped around the cold one, trying to prize it off, but the grip just got tighter and tighter… He felt his trachea constricting… The pain, blinding…
And I killed them… killed them…
At that moment a second noise came from in front of him – a yell, an anguished one, from the ginger. Wormtail knew that Lucius was coming – he just knew – and maybe he would be able to cast a spell to save him. Wormtail's eyes darted towards the door, but it was as cold and unmoving and the only thing that moved was those two boys.
For a moment Wormtail met Harry's eyes with his own wide, fearful ones… and for a moment he saw the ghost of his father and mother. He saw the ghost of a beautiful woman, red hair falling down her back, with those beautiful green eyes and a kind smile, always accepting of him. He saw the ghost of a strong man who he'd admired with tousled brown hair, a real Gryffindor always and forever…
A squeal of despair flowed up Wormtail's throat and stayed there, caught and constricted.
I killed them… killed them… nearly killed their child… and here is their little boy, pitying me…
Wormtail choked on a sob, not because of the fire going in his lungs but because of the skeletons that were dancing in his closet, set free by oncoming peril.
How could he have killed them, some of the only people who had accepted him? How could he have been such a coward? Why couldn't he have died for a cause, for his friends? Why couldn't he have done it even if he'd never felt like a Marauder, even if he'd always felt like something was holding him back from being their best friend?
The silver fingers clamped down harder, but he couldn't stop it then… Weak, his hand fell to his side. He felt colder than the silver… It was as though the world was shaking, falling down around him.
I deserve to die. I deserve the pain.
Wormtail made no effort to stop the cruel hand from crushing his windpipe. He knew that he deserved no pity, and yet the boys kept giving it.
Crack.
With a final, deadening crack Wormtail's neck snapped in two. He fell to his knees with cold finality, then face first into the floor, the balls of light, as bright as they were, becoming blotched with pitch blackness. A flicker came from his heart, as though it detected death.
His eyes rolled upwards, and all went black, but before it could a lone tear slid down his face.
AUTHOR NOTE: This is always how I imagined Wormtail feeling during his death. I don't like him, and I don't expect you to, but I do feel a bit of pity for him. He was a coward (there are far worse words that I won't use), yes, but I always hoped that there was a flicker of good somewhere in those beady eyes. When he freed Harry, I thought: 'Hey, there's the good part.' But anyway, I hope that you enjoyed! Reviews are very welcome, and constructive criticism is even more so. I also invite you to take a look at some of my other work (there's not much, sadly) but maybe follow, because there's loads more to come! Thank you so much for reading – you don't know how much I appreciate it. :)
DISCLAIMER: All characters in this fanfic (Wormtail/Peter Pettigrew, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley) are copyrighted by the wonderful J.K. Rowling, without whom I wouldn't have a wonderful outlet for my need to write :)
"Mischief Managed"
~Kishy