AN: Things I own: my clothes, my tap shoes, my cupcake tin…(not Harry Potter)

Plot inspired by Remus's Nymph

Peter Pettigrew had never been a hero. He knew that, but sometimes he liked to imagine what life would be like if things had been different. After all, light side, dark side, good guys, bad guys…it's all relative. Maybe he had done a justice turning James in, participating in a revolution of sorts against the deterioration of the traditional wizarding world. Maybe James and Lily deserved it. Maybe Sirius deserved it.

They hadn't deserved it.

He had clung to their coattails while growing up at Hogwarts, wishing with all the fervent need of the desperate that he could spend just one day being James Potter- catching the snitch with lazy ease, his hair ruffled to perfection, girls watching him out of the corners of their eyes. Or to be Sirius, with his charming looks and devilish smile, clever enough to stay out of blame's way when trouble arose… except the one time it mattered. They had been his friends. His comrades. And now his old heroes were dead. He had never been athletic like James or handsome like Sirius, but he had survived. That's what mattered, he was alive. Living like the rat he was, under house arrest and practically a slave to that unworthy Snivillus's every whim. Living in constant fear- not only of the Order but of his fellow death eaters as well. Miserable existence, but he was alive.

And seeing Harry…he had looked so like James when they were young….

Well, it was too late for that now. Sipping the dregs of elf-made wine out of Snape's used glass, he made a silent toast. 'Goodbye Padfoot. You may be dead, but I'm in hell.'