Author: Loki40766
Title: No, Please
Notes: In Peter's POV mostly.
Warnings: Rape, slash.
Pairings: Various Death Eaters/Peter, Voldemort/Peter, unrecuited Remus/Sirius/Peter
Summary: AU. Oneshot. In a different world a loyal Peter unwillingly betrays Lily and James.
No, please.
The beaten, broken body laid haphazardly on the floor. The body was covered in lacerations, bruises and every few seconds shook violently. The after affects of the many Crucios and other pain curses. You could tell that the broken young man had been violated in every manner.
Under the blood and semen, both dried and fresh, the man was slender and short with mousy brown hair, slightly tanned skin, and hazel eyes. He had a tattoo that said 'Wormtail' on his upper right arm. The tattoo was the result of Sirius' wanting to rebel against his parents in every way and what better way than getting a tattoo? Well, that and joining the Light side. They others had went along with him. Sirius' said 'Padfoot', Remus' 'Moony', and James' said 'Prongs'.
His eyes were large and glassy, but he was aware enough to know what was going on around him, thanks to that damn potion, no matter how much or how many times he wished he wasn't. In the first few days of his capture he had tried to tell himself that soon Moony, Padfoot, Dumbledore, or anyone would come rescue him. Anyone come rescue him, before he broke. Before he told them where James, and Lily, and sweet little Harry lived.
Later he had prayed that they didn't, because he didn't want those Death Eater bastards getting their disgusting hands on them, on anyone he cared about. He didn't want them to be tainted like he had. And he was tainted. He was dirty, filthy, and even if he did manage to live he knew that he would never be able to get clean. He knew that he would always feel their hands on him, feel them violating him, touching him in places no one had ever touched before, in places no one had ever been before, filling him with their essence and tainting him.
He knew that whenever he closed his eyes he would see their revolting, much hated faces, and hear their filthy lewd comments as they rode his body.
Several words came to his mind...
Whore.
Slut.
Come on you know want it, bitch.
Disgusting.
Filthy.
Dirty.
No one's going to want you now.
What was worse was that he knew that those things were true. Who would ever want him now? He was so dirty. Sirius and Remus would never want him now. A wave of sadness an through him, but he didn't cry. He had stopped crying weeks ago.
The thing that, in a way, hurt the most was that no one probably missed him. He had saved up all his sick days and a lot of money on to go on a two month vacation to China. He had always wanted to view for himself the life styles and customs. He began his trip, but he had never reached his destination.
They were coming for him again. He heard their shoes clack on the stone floor. A few seconds later he heard the creak of the door opening, but he didn't bother turning to look at them until he was roughly jerked to his feet by Rapheal Parkinson and Darren Nott. The dragged him naked down the corridor until they reached the Voldemort's throne room.
He had been in there several times, such as when Voldemort wanted to watch a session personally. He'd even been to Voldemort's private chambers before, like when the Dark Lord wanted to play, but wouldn't lower himself to do it in front of his servents.
The Dark Lord's vioce broke through the cotton his mind was wrapped in.
"Dear Peter, I grow tired of this game, and since you have refused to take my mark or even tell me what I want to know through conventual means, I am afraid we have decided to use the unconventual. Hold his head up," Voldemort's voice never left a soft, silky tone.
Peter's head was forced up and he was forced to stare into inky, black eyes. Eyes that he had stared into many times as a child, eyes that had always been clouded with humiliation or anger.
No. Oh God, No! Please No. NO!
Peter tried to force his eyes closed, but a simple spell from Voldemort kept them open, and he fell into bottomless black eyes.
Memories swam through mind: Remus, Sirius, the Shreaking Shack, Hagrid's hut, Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Mother, Lily, James, Harry, Godric's Hollow.
NO!
"The Potter's live at Godric's Hollow, my lord," Snape stated.
A scream cut through Peter's throat. It was loud and hysterical. Inarticulate.
He was a traitor, now, not just a whore. He had betrayed everyone. James. Lily. Harry. Sirius. Remus. Everyone. He had betrayed them all. He was a murderer. Lily, James, and little baby Harry were going to die, because of him, because he wasn't strong enough to protect them. To keep their secret. He was disgusting, a filthy, treasoness whore.
No. No. No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, so sorry. Forgive me. Please, please forgive me. I'm sorry.
Peter sank to his knees. Parkinson and Nott were no longer supporting him. Peter didn't even notice. Tears fell from his eyes, unchecked.
The words,"I'm sorry," whispered over and over under his breath.
Peter never saw the wand waved in his direction, never heard the calmly spoken words, never even saw the green light that stole the life from his body. All he saw was his imagination's broken bodies of his friends, and Sirius and Remus' disgusted faces.
No, please.
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