DEAR PETER

What are friends?
Friends are people that you think are your friends
But they're really your enemies, with secret identities
and disguises, to hide their true colors
So just when you think you're close enough to be brothers
they wanna come back and cut your throat when you ain't lookin
-"If I Had" - Eminem

How could you Wormtail? Why did you? Did you feel anything when you stood in front of Voldemort and said my name? Did you heart break? And, most importantly, why did you do it? These are all questions I would love to ask you, but I'm dead. I know it may seem harsh to say that so bluntly, but I've never been one for vagueness and secrecy, even in death. Death hasn't really changed me, I still have the same heart, just a little more mellowed. Lily and I, we're making a life for ourselves up here, wherever here is, even if we're not exactly happy. They say you're dead too, but you can't be, because you would be here, with Lily and I.

It's the people down there, the ones like Remus, who I feel sorry for. The ones who are plagued by nightmares of flailing bodies and who are chilled by the deathly silence as they lay flowers on our graves. They're the ones whose hearts you smashed into little tiny pieces, because you ripped apart our friendship as though it was nothing more than a piece of paper. It seems you thought of it as no more important than a piece of paper at any rate.

We used to be friends, Peter, you, Remus, Sirius and I. What happened? Lily has a lot of theories, she likes to think things through, as I'm sure you know. She says that maybe you were afraid the Death Eaters would torture you, but I don't believe that. The Sorting Hat said you would make a good Gryffindor, so you must have shown at least an inkling of bravery.

Did you want to get our attention? Or did you secretly hate us and think that this was the easiest way out? What made you betray the people who loved you?

I'm sure you remember our Hogwarts days as well as I do? Pranks, full moon, classes, and having three best friends who would have done anything for you. We were popular and we were loved and admired. You had everything that most people wanted, a friendship with Remus, Sirius and I. And then you killed me, and you tore the Marauders apart.

I would have died for you Peter; I just never knew you would be the one behind the wand.

Lily, December 25th, 1990

Harry's sitting in my sister's living room right now, surrounded by wrapping paper, and watching that idiotic lump of lard that he's unfortunately forced to call a cousin, and it's all your fault. The only thing that stops me screaming in fury is the fact that this is the last time he has to put up with the travesty, that his next Christmas will be spent at Hogwarts. I'm still pissed that you did this to us, but I'm not furious. Over time James, has learnt to forget, and has moved on, or, at least, he seems to have. Maybe it's because I'm a mother, and there's nothing stronger than a mother's love, but I can't forget that easily.

Thanks to you, my son has spent the last nine years of his life hidden from his true identity, and stuck with people who will never respect him for who he is, or what he is. And worse, my son is going to have fight that evil bastard, Voldemort. I just don't get it, you loved Harry, yet you condemned him to such a fate. Do you find delight in wrecking people's lives?

You were the first one to hold Harry, after James (although, that probably had something to do with the fact that Sirius was drunk and Remus had the full moon that night), and, nine years on, I can still remember how exhilarated you were, almost as much as James and I. And then you do this.

It's Christmas, and I should be downstairs, celebrating with James. But should Christmas mean anything when you're dead? Should it mean anything when you're alive for that matter? Because really, it's just another day, except it's a day surrounded by glamour and intrigue.

The point is, thanks to you, my son and I are both wondering about the magic of something as beautiful of Christmas. I'm dead, and he's lost his innocence.

How could you?

Sirius, July 29th, 1993

I must thank you. You killed my friends, you sentenced me to all this time in Azkaban, but you kept me sane. The thought of you, at Hogwarts, near my godson, has stopped me from succumbing to the Dementors. It's stopped me wanting to kill myself.

For years, I thought it was my entire fault, that my decision to change Secret Keepers resulted in their deaths. But then I remembered our school days, and how you followed us around like a lost little puppy, and I should have realised. You were too weak to do the right thing; you took the easy way out, hiding behind people more powerful than you. Without us Peter, you would have been little more than scum, and this is how you repay us. I want to kill you Peter, and I'm finally going to avenge everyone. I'm doing this for the memories of Lily and James, oh yes, I'm sure your sad, pathetic, twisted mind remembers them, but I'm also doing it for myself. I'm doing it for myself as a way of destroying the painful memories a mere mention of your name bring up. You may have kept me sane, but it's been an excruciatingly raw form of sanity.

I'm breaking out tomorrow, but rest assured, I won't be chasing after you straight away. My first days of freedom don't deserve to be wasted by you. I'm going to sniff the air, and run like the wind, and smile. Because Peter, believe it or not, smiling isn't something that happens in Azkaban. Especially not when your heart aches for the loss of your friends, and all you want to do is wring the neck of a certain rat.

Somewhere down in the cavernous pits of my heart, I know I won't kill you, that I'm not cut out for that sort of thing, but I pretend otherwise, because it helps to do something, anything. It helps to numb the raw ache.

Are you proud Peter? Proud that you've left two friends dead, and another two clinging to life in a depressed state of affairs. Because sorry, but all those jokes Prongs and I made during school, about the disgustingness of shagging Snivellus, well, I've since decided that is a better opinion than this shit.

Moony once told me that friendship was about sacrifice. You had to sacrifice things you loved, in order to gain trust and respect in a relationship. You sacrificed, but all you gained was a dead relationship and a quicker path to hell.

Remus, September 1st, 1985

Why Peter? Memories can be painful, more torturous than the Cruciatus curse. Today is September first, and you know what that means don't you. It's the anniversary of the day we met. Look at us now, though, and you'd never believe how loved we were. Never have believe how girls thought we were sexy and guys were jealous of us. Because those were the times, the times of pranks, and of laughter and of unconditional love and friendship. And it's all gone.

Did it hurt to die? I saw your finger, the only thing, no matter how gruesome; I have left to remember you with after I burnt all the pictures of him. Sometimes I wish I could join you up there, but I can't work up the courage. Some Gryffindor I am. Besides, who knows when the war will start again, and I will be needed. I want to fight him, because I can never trust him again, the memories are far too excruciating.

They say he was laughing when he murdered you. I can't imagine it. James was his best friend, the one who took him in that summer. He trusted James more than you and I, it was a true testament to their friendship, something so gorgeous that we sort of missed out on, because we were the Marauders, but we weren't Sirius and James. Yet he murdered them, and they say he's working for Voldemort too.

I don't really believe that. He's locked away in Azkaban though, and it's not like I'll get the chance to ask him any time soon. Voldemort stands for everything he hated, for darkness and murder and oppression and family. He hated his birth family, but I think we were his real family. He was never the most rational and sane of people, but we stopped him from falling over the edge. Without us, he would have exploded early, like a faulty bomb.

And look how he repays us.

Peter, sometime in a hellish exsistance.

Mr Wormtail would like to say that he is sorry. Because, really, what else can I say?

A/N: So this isn't the best thing I've written, it's the first time I've ever tried to really characterise post Hogwarts Marauders, and I think I've struggled a little bit. However, I am proud of it on some strange level, in that it's one of the more meaningful things I've written. Anyway, I hope you like it, and can you please review, I'd really love you opinion.

Cuba