Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, that's Joanne Rowling's job. I wouldn't say anything against a little generosity, though, if she suddenly thought it would be a good idea to give the rights for Harry Potter to a random stranger.
Peter loved his friends, he really did.
It was just... he'd never measure up to them. It was always strong and keep-his-wits James, cool and funny and suave Sirius, clever and quiet Remus, and their tagalong Peter, who didn't count. No girl looked at him, or wanted him, or actually was interested in him. He'd had a crush on Lily, but of course, Prongs went first. His crush was much more important than anything Peter felt. His friends' littlest whim was always more important than him, he felt sometimes. He knew it wasn't quite fair, and he wasn't proud of it, but sometimes, he just felt like that.
He wantd to keep at least his life, the only thing he had for himself, but most likely, he wouldn't. They had tortured him, and laughed at him, and he thought about how Sirius or Remus would have kept quiet, and he held his tongue. The Dark Lord was formidable, so powerful, but he kept quiet, he wouldn't be a traitor, he just wouldn't. He'd be brave Peter, and then, at least people would think about him for once. They'd notice he had existed.
Of course, he'd be dead by then, so he wouldn't know it, but it comforted him now, that knowledge that they would think about him, that he'd be a hero, a hero of the Order of the Phoenix. Maybe Lily would wonder whether she could have given him a few more glances. Just maybe, if he was very, very lucky.
They didn't know he was here, but they'd probably know the Death Eaters had gotten him, when he was dead. He'd be "disappeared without a trace", and maybe get a post-humnus Order of Merlin, like Caradoc Dearborn, who'd nobody seen, since the month before. They'd never found anything of him.
He was sitting in a cell at the moment. He was afraid, so afraid, but he wouldn't talk. He wouldn't. But maybe, if he would, he'd be noticed as well.
Maybe he'd be important with the Death Eaters, not just a tagalong. He shook his head to himself. He wouldn't tell. Not a word. His mother would have reason to be proud of him.
Someone else came in.
Peter recognized his cold, high voice as the person spoke, and shivered.
"So, so... Peter Pettigrew, I presume?"
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named knew his name? Little, unimportant Peter Pettigrew's name? Peter's eyes widened in surprise.
"Ye-es."
He stuttered. He should have answered firm, like Remus or Sirius or James would have done, but he couldn't. He was too afraid, and yet, a part of his brain recognised the power You-Know-Who wore like a cloak. Enormous power, more than Wormtail had ever dreamt of.
"I have heard of you. A member of the Marauders, are you not?"
"Yes." Much better, he hadn't stuttered.
"The overshadowed one... aren't you a little tired of always being the tagalong?"
How did You-Know-Who know this? Could he read his mind?
"I..." He couldn't answer. He was tired, but he... he wouldn't betray his friends.
"You could be important, you know." He felt the promise of that power. He wouldn't take it, he just couldn't.
"Do you want your mother to be proud of you?"
"She wouldn't want me to be a traitor." He was sure of this, it was the only thing he was sure of, right now.
The Dark Lord laughed, cold and high, and Peter shivered.
"Do you want your mother to be able to be proud of you?"
Peter froze. Did he mean...?
"How do you think would she feel if her only child disappeared... such a waste... she might kill herself, you know..."
She'd once said so. She'd said he was her whole life, everything she had. If he died... his mother... she wouldn't last. He'd once joked about it with his friends. Now it didn't seem so funny.
"She wouldn't want me to be a traitor." But at the same time, he thought that she had never approved of his friends. She had never liked them.
"Or something could happen to her... an old little lady, living all alone..."
Peter wanted to say something... Anything.
"Leave her alone. Please." The please ruined the "firm resistance mask", he knew, but he had to beg. She was his mother. The only person who cared about him first and foremost. And the person he cared about first and foremost.
"And you could be important... an important man, in our new regime..." He could see it, picture himself, as an important official unter the Dark Lord's rule, with money to spare, and influence, maybe then a girl would look at him, he wouldn't just be a tagalong. But he shouldn't betray his friends.
"Your mother would be proud then..." He felt the words poisoning his mind, but there was nothing he could do against it... Mother had always said she would so love to see him as an important Ministry official... and he would have enough money to allow her to live comfortably in her old age...
"But my friends..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"Friends to whom you are always the least important?" Peter understood he was being manipulated, but his old resentment, his feeling of being a disappointment, and worthless, and just a tagalong, they all came up again. All those jokes they made about him, at every opportunity they got... every single prank Padfoot had ever played on him... all those grins Pronks and Moony had shared whenever he was a little slow to get something... Things he'd never told anyone, like how he'd crushed on Lily in third year, but had always stood behind for Prongs... How he'd fallen head over heels for Marlene McKinnon, only so Sirius could ask her out and then tell him in detail about every single thing they did... how he had cried that night Padfoot told him about how he'd... he'd slept with her, how badly he wanted to lay his hands around his neck when he told him that he'd just dumped her for another girl, and that she hadn't been "that good of a shag anyway"... how depressed he felt when she wouldn't talk to him, because she hated Sirius... how much he hated keeping quiet when Sirius once talked him and James into coming to a strip club, during Lily's pregnancy, and James had snogged one of those other girls, and none of them had even looked at Peter... He'd never told anyone. He always kept quiet.
And this wizard before him, he was just so... so powerful. More powerful than anything Peter had ever seen. He would love to have such power, even the tiniest bit of it...
Maybe, just maybe, it was time to talk...
But...
"I will come tomorrow. You can think about my offer... you could be important, or..."
The Dark Lord didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
He left Peter alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of anger, and disappointment, and a wish to be someone worthy, someone who'd be noticed...
The next day, Peter's decision was made. He hated it, having been manipulated, he knew it, but he couldn't escape his anger, his resentment. He couldn't escape those dreams of a little importance, of money, of a good place for his mother in her old age, of being more than just a tagalong.
When the Dark Lord came, Peter spoke first.
"I'll do whatever you want me to, my Lord."