The winner
Remus turned the thing in his hand over, as if expecting to find something more. He didn't. The letter was addressed to "Moony", but whoever had sent it was a mystery. It was a plain white envelope with no decoration what so ever, and the wax seal was a cheap Christmas one that he knew for a fact that you could buy in any store.
Shaking his head, he opened it by dragging his wand along the edges. He knew he was being stupid, because a letter like this one could easily be a trap. The Death Eaters could easily find out his old nickname. All they had to do was ask Peter. But still, there was that daft, soft part of him that still believed that this boyhood nickname was holy somehow, and that hoped for… something. A part of something that was long since dead; an echo of dead men's voices; comfort that no one could give. And so he opened it. But he did proceed with caution, extracting the letter from the envelope with another gesture of his wand.
Nothing happened. In front of him was an ordinary piece of parchment, looking completely harmless. But looks could be deceiving. He carefully unfolded it, and since he was still not touching the parchment, it took some time. He didn't want to accidentally rip the letter with a careless charm.
Still nothing. In front of him was a closely written letter in ordinary black ink. The only eerie thing about it was that the handwriting was somewhat familiar. It was enough to make him cast a protective charm over himself, but not enough to stop him from reading.
He shouldn't have.
Remus,
You were always so trusting, even when you really shouldn't. That's how I knew you were going to read this letter, even though sense would tell you to throw it away. Besides, I know you long for those golden days of long ago, and you still want to believe that there is something sacred about the good ole Marauders.
Let me relieve you of that delusion. There was never anything sacred about us; not to me at any rate. Whatever you thought you were a part of, I certainly wasn't, and the Marauders mean less than nothing to me. This has been made, I think, painfully apparent.
Why am I writing? It certainly isn't just for the pleasure of it, although I do confess that the thought of the look on your face by now brings me deep joy of the more savage, vengeful kind. But no, I have some things that I feel need straightening out; some questions that you've undoubtedly asked yourself, and some things that you've all gotten regrettably wrong.
Firstly: Why did I betray my friends? And see, already you're in the wrong. Because who ever said I was your friend? If I was, wouldn't you have seen what was happening to me? Wouldn't you have held onto me as I was slipping into the dark? Also, if I truly had been your friend, wouldn't you have considered me an equal; wouldn't Sirius, James and Lily have made me the Secret Keeper because they trusted me, not because 'a miserable, talentless thing like me' would never be suspected.
He had such a way with words, Padfoot. And didn't THAT particular idea just backfire on him in every possible way?
Who ever would've guessed that a miserable, talentless thing like me could be the traitor?
Everyone was going for the quiet, mysterious werewolf Remus Lupin, and failed to see, as Sirius so rightfully said, what should've been obvious. It really should've been, but not for the reasons he named.
I always liked big friends who would look after me? Once more I feel the need to point out that if you had actually been my friends, you would've seen me turning my back on you. Then again, if you had really been my friends, I wouldn't have.
Yes, that's why. I betrayed you because you weren't my friends, and you were never going to be. I was always going to be your tag-along. And you got yourself involved in a war without ever asking me what I wanted , and then expected me to put my life on the line for your ideals. I'm not saying I ever believed the Death Eater crap, because I don't. I never have. But not believing it is not the same as being willing to sacrifice my life fighting it. And besides, it was never about that anyway. It was about the three of you. It was always about you.
It was about Sirius' personal vendetta with his family. It was about James' vendetta with Snape, and about his muggleborn wife. It was about you, Remus, and your affliction. That's why you fought. That's why you expected me to do the same, even if I was so frightened that I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't live. You expected me to do this, not for the greater good (don't you love that expression? You should. You were always quoting Dumbledore.), but for your sakes.
Sirius said he would've died for me. Of course he would. He would've died for anyone on the 'good side', because doing otherwise would wreck his beautiful self image as the self-sacrificing martyr, and the opposite of everyone else in his family. As if he wasn't as selfish as them, and as judgmental. He was their opposite in the same way that a mirror shows the opposite of you; he was just the same, he was just facing in a different direction.
Bellatrix would die for the Dark Lord. Does that make her a better person, I ask?
I wouldn't. I would only die for a friend, and regrettably, I don't have any, and I've never had. Dying for the people that have you around to make themselves look better? Dying for the people that let you be their so-called friend because you agree with them in everything? Dying for people who do not know you at all? Dying for, when all is said and done, a total stranger? Not many are strong enough to do that. Not to belittle our dear Lily, but dying for your own child is EASY in comparison.
But yes, if you wonder, I did love the three of you. I loved you more than you ever could've come close to loving me. That's another reason why I had to do what I did.
But on to the next question. Was it worth it?
Yes, it was. Why? Because no matter what happens to me, I can rest assured that I have afflicted the worst pain possible on every single one of you. James never got his life together with Lily, with the added bonus that their son was given a life full of pain and misery, and I can't imagine what could've hurt him more. Sirius had to live with being guilty of putting their lives in my hands, in a place that doesn't let you forget about it, and on top of that was the indignity of being there in my place, convicted for the crime I committed. And I am also sure that he didn't enjoy a single day of the short time of freedom he was granted before dying. Sirius could never let go, not of anything, and his failure to protect everyone he loved must've haunted him until the end.
And you? Nothing could be simpler. The only thing one has to do to cause you pain is to remove you from the rest of your friends, and you're rendered completely helpless. You're the one who really needed strong friends around you to be able to cope, Remus. I also imagine that you found hundreds of ways of blaming yourself, in your loneliness and misery, and I bet that a part of you does even now, when you know if was all my fault.
So yes. Even though I am treated like the lowest form of life now, ever single day; even though my life is a hopeless trudge through terror towards death; it was still worth it. Because I won. I won, and you lost. Look at yourself now, Remus. You're still trapped in the image of the boy you used to be, trapped in 'what if' and 'before' and 'once'. You want nothing so much to go back to the time when you still had a life; what you have now is just staying alive. Well, in that sense, you're just like me, but unlike you, I don't want to go back, I don't regret a single thing. And so, I win.
I just wanted you to know.
Peter
Remus burned the letter. And as he did so, even though he hated himself for it, he cried. Not from shame or sorrow, but from some unknown, dark regret, and that ever-present wish that things could've been different.
After that, his dreams were haunted by the burning letter, and quiet laughter in his mind as Peter told him he'd won again. Not even when he found out that Peter was gone did it stop. It persisted until the moment he died.
FIN
A/N: No, this is not how I picture Peter. But I wanted to do an angry, bitter Peter for a change, because I somehow feel that he deserves to feel a certain amount of bitterness. Not that I agree with his views on the Marauders in this letter. Not completely, at any rate. But some parts have a bit of truth in them.
Oh, and I know how it feels to be a tag-along, and the bitterness you harbour against those who consider themselves kind enough to let you lick their boots, and I can tell you that it's not pretty. I'm not saying it's right, I'm just saying that's what you feel.
This whole fiction is based on the song Bad Boys by my girlfriend (Falsetto here on ff and Cat-astrofy on deviantart). I hope she will post it here soon, so that people can admire it, because it rocks.