AN: This goes with my other Peter/Dorcas piece, "Enigma", also works as a oneshot. I don't own Harry Potter.
Peter felt so out of place. Everyone here was so full of confidence, so well-known, so dedicated. He was just Peter, the traitor. But then again, they didn't know that. Not yet.
James and Lily were laughing with couple he vaguely recognized from school. Remus was talking about something confusing with Edgar Bones. Sirius was flirting with a gorgeous black-haired woman.
He was all alone, standing nervously in a corner, fiddling with a glass of firewhiskey. Peter sighed with relief when Dumbledore finally showed up.
He sat at the table, between Remus and Sirius, not paying particular attention to what was going on. Thanks to all the enchantments, he couldn't tell his Lord about any of this anyway.
Instead, Peter looked at the people around him, picking out those he knew and those who seemed familiar. A small brunette woman sitting across from him was biting her nails. She was cute, he noted. Not like beautiful Mrs. Bones or fierce Marlene, but cute in her own way. She, like many others at the table, had a face that he almost recognized.
As she looked up, Peter looked away. He didn't deserve to even look at her. He was a fucking traitor. And she was out there risking her life.
As time went on, Peter found out little things about her. Her name was Dorcas. She was a Ravenclaw, two years before him. She liked her coffee black and the colour purple.
He talked to her occasionally, and learned more. He learned how her laugh sounded, how easily she got drunk, why she was fighting. Peter learned how easy it was to become enchanted with a small woman with big dreams.
Sometimes, he listened to Dorcas tell him about how she protected muggles everyday and how she couldn't imagine how the Death Eaters didn't realize that the muggles were just as human as any wizard or witch.
He wished he could have been that strong, that determined.
He wished he could have a dream.
He wished he could have a girl to fall in love with.
No, he was Peter. Anyone he touched would just get hurt.
And he had made his choice. Dorcas couldn't magically change him. She was a human, not a miracle worker.
But as Dorcas lay on her deathbed, slashed to pieces, he held her hand for the first time.
I wish I could have saved you.
AN: Reviews are love.