Peter and the first Christmas after that fateful Halloween. He should really be worshiped, really. not hiding. A drabble. Part 21 of 25 Days of Christmas.
He was safe, for now. He knew that, for there was no one who knew he was alive but one. And that one was in prison, believed to be a lier and a traitor and a Death Eater.
The true Death Eater survived however. He did his deed and he lived.
No, that wasn't true. He wasn't living. He was only existing, as James would say.
James. James Potter. Husband to Lily Potter, father to Harry Potter, and best friend to Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.
No, wait. That also wasn't true. James wasn't Peter's best friend, was he? No, Peter didn't care for James, or for Sirius or Remus. They couldn't protect him. He was a rat. He worked to survive, and he found the person that would protect him.
But that person was gone now too. Defeated by an infant.
Peter really needed to find somewhere to hide.
The sewers wouldn't do. That was only temporary. He had to get away from Sirius that day, after he nearly killed him.
No, after Peter had faked his own death. It was the only thing to do, really. Remus would have talked to Sirius if he didn't do it. Remus would have found the truth. No Peter had to die and even Remus wouldn't talk to someone who murdered three of his best friends. This Peter knew. Even if the ministry let a werewolf visit an old Death Eater friend, he wouldn't trust Sirius. Not now. Not after the evidence.
He did have a heart, really. And it did hurt and pound and ache at what he did.
But he had to do it, don't you see? He was but a small, insignificant Order member. If he continued to fight against the Dark Lord, he was sure to die. Along with Sirius and Remus and the others. This way, only James and Lily died. He was still alive. Remus was still alive. Sirius was still alive. Even little Harry was still alive, even if he wasn't supposed to be. This was better for everyone. You-Know-Who was gone and the war was over and no one else was going to die. Itty-bitty, useless Peter saved wizarding kind from destroying itself.
They should be celebrating him, actually. He helped destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Indirectly and unintentionally, yes. But still. By giving up the Potters' location, he lived and so did everyone else. He was a hero.
He continued scrambling through the sewers of London.
It really wasn't fair, you understand. Here it was, months later, and still hiding. Peter deserved better. He traveled far out of London, into the outskirts of England that night. He was tired, but he needed to get out to the country. He'd find a warm house to stay in, to actually live.
He might even find somewhere he can be a human again.
Only after a small redhead boy found him and took him home that he realized it was Christmas. Lily's favorite holiday, he remembered. Sirius always loved winter too. When he got carried inside to the small, warm sitting room, he saw a tree covered in red decorations and remembered a different Christmas, a year ago, with a small baby laughing gleefully as he played with a Quidditch set Remus got him. Remus had promised that the boy was going to be a seeker, while James maintained that he'll be a chaser. The boy had found the bludger most interesting, to Sirius' amusement and his uncle and father's disappointment. He turned away from the tree.
He didn't want to forget that image, but he had no choice. The past was the past, and those people were most certainly his past.
It was only after he saw the floating dishes that he realized that he was in a wizarding house. Peter didn't think of another wizarding house, of a bigger one in Godric's Hollow, where an unconventional family lived and laughed together.
He was safe now. Living, as a rat, yes, but living nonetheless. It was better than what he had had.
No, wait. Was that true?
He didn't know.