"Hello?" Peter said, his voice echoing. He stared down the hallway, a frown growing on his face. The ceilings, floors and walls were all grey, the exact same shade of grey. He couldn't really tell where the floor ended and the wall begin; there weren't any shadows. Peter just felt surrounded by the grey, and he swallowed hard, hands shaking as he began to walk through the hallway.

He didn't know where he was, other than just in this hallway. Peter remembered that yesterday he'd stayed up late studying for potions, Remus at his side to help him, but now, he walked through the strange hallway.

"Hello?" he tried again to find someone else – anything else. This place scared him, and his breathing quickened, gasps coming out of him as he walked even faster. He couldn't find any windows, any furniture, any portraits. Peter reached a trembling hand to touch the wall, and when he felt it under his fingers, felt the smooth feeling of painted walls, he bit his lip hard and swallowed.

For a moment, he stopped, closing his eyes and trying to gather himself. He lifted his wand from his pocket, wanting the extra comfort and protection it provided even though it was all too clear that no one else was around. Nothing else was around him.

"I can do this," he told himself, even though he didn't really know what he was doing. Just… something told him to keep walking. Peter took his hand off the wall, shuddering as he felt more fear rush through him. He laid his hand on the wall again, letting it ground him. He took another deep breath, then stepped forward, letting his hand trace a line down the wall as he went.

Peter wished James or Sirius – hell, even Remus – was with him. He always felt the bravest around his best friends, and for some reason, this hallway terrified him. Peter wanted to feel stronger; he knew – he knew just as surely as he knew he needed oxygen to breath – that James and Sirius would run down this hallway, confronting the unknown with a self-assured laugh.

Peter counted it as a victory that his legs weren't wobbling too much for him to walk. But that really summed it up, didn't it? Here he was, thinking about how much better his friends were than him, and he just accepted he couldn't hold himself to the same standards.

Peter considered running down the hall, and his breath caught in his chest. Already, his heart pounded, as if he actually had sprinted down the hallway. No, he couldn't run. Peter had to settle for just putting one foot in front of the other. He still planned on confronting whatever was back there; he just wanted to do it at his own pace.

Peter tried so hard to convince himself that was okay.

A sound echoed down the hallway, and his heart leapt. He stopped walking, clearing his throat so he could speak.

"Hello?"

The sound had been a thump – almost as if something fell in hallway, but of course, there was nothing there, so what could fall? Peter didn't know, but the idea that something lay up ahead terrified him. It would have excited James and Sirius, he knew, but he couldn't change how he felt.

Peter tried to be brave; he really did. He tried to be a good Gryffindor; he really, really did. But he couldn't.

He groaned aloud, now feeling something hard in his throat and tears burn at his eyes. He still hadn't started moving again, and he clenched his hand into a fist against the wall. Peter swallowed hard, past the lump to kill it and get it to go away. Gryffindors didn't cry, Peter knew. He'd never seen James or Sirius cry.

They spent so much time acting like the perfect Gryffindors that Peter knew how he was supposed to be perfectly. First came the bravery, so clear and obvious with how his friends protected other students when a potion exploded or snuck into the Slytherins' dorms to pull a prank. Next, Gryffindors were charming. James and Sirius both had tons of girls who were interested in them.

Peter never talked to a girl before. Peter didn't have any friends outside of James, Sirius and Remus. They were Marauders, so that was okay though. But it really wasn't, was it? Not when Peter felt so terribly outmatched by his friends and knew – knew as surely as he knew that Sirius hated his family – that people talked behind his back about how James and Sirius only let him hang out because they pitied him.

Peter knew – not quite as surely but he still knew – that was true too. He couldn't pretend that was okay. Sometimes Peter wished he'd been placed in Hufflepuff or even just made other friends in Gryffindor. He loved hanging out with James, Sirius and Remus, but he hated how obvious it was that he'd never be good enough.

Peter slammed his fist into the wall, gasping as pain flew through his hand, and his hand travelled further than it should have. He'd broken a hole into the wall.

Well, damn, and here he thought he couldn't be more of a fuck up. He turned to look at the hole, then at his own hand. His hand was dusted with white pieces of the wall, and Peter brushed at it, trying to clean it. Nothing made sense here. Even with the whole, he couldn't see anything but blank grey.

"There you are," a voice said. Peter stiffened then spun around, holding his hand up high. His breath caught in his throat as he stared into the beady eyes of a heavy-set, balding man. The man's eyes flashed back and forth, and he tensed under Peter's gaze, as if he was about to run. Peter recognized that feeling much too well.

"Who are you?" he said, sneaking enough anger into it that it came out as more of a command than a question.

"I'm you. I'm who you'll be." The man looked around some more, ignoring how Peter's jaw dropped. "C'mon we don't have much time." He turned and began to walk down the hallway, in the direction he'd come from before. Peter considered leaving or just staying there, considered not following the man – himself? – but even he couldn't shy away from learning about his future.

He frowned as he looked over the man, beginning to follow him. Peter found it weird that he had a silver hand, but who knows? Not him, that's for sure. Peter walked faster, catching up with – with himself.

"Why are you here? Am I dreaming?" he asked, unable to keep quiet. His older self didn't look at him, answering in a rough voice.

"To tell you important stuff. And yes."

"What sort of important stuff?" Peter asked. His older self stopped walking, and Peter looked around, wondering what changed. To either side of them, there was a door. Both were closed, and Peter wondered what they meant.

As he looked around, his older self turned on him, moving too fast for Peter to react and shoving him against one of the doors. The silver hand pressed against his throat. It didn't stop him from breathing, but the freezing cold metal did for a moment.

"You need to listen to me. In a couple years, someone will tell you that you don't need to always follow Sirius and James around. They'll tell you that they can teach you to be brave, to help you find yourself. Don't do it."

"What – why not?" Peter said, his voice coming out in gasps even as he tried to control his breathing.

"Just don't do it! You follow James and Sirius around forever. It doesn't matter – it doesn't matter how you feel then, just be loyal to them."

"I – I'll always be loyal to them." The man laughed, and Peter stared at him, scared. The laugh sounded haunted, and his older self looked no better. He threw his head back as he laughed, but it sounded more like choking. Peter wanted to help him, but he couldn't still pressed against the wall.

"You say that now," the man said, giggles still escaping him. His beady eyes watered. "I hope you mean it."

Then the man disappeared. Peter lurched forward, no longer pressed into the wall. He caught himself after a couple of fumbling steps, his heart pounding in his chest. Looking around, he couldn't see any sign of his older self. Peter turned to the door across from him, then looked back at the one behind him. He wanted out of this hallway, and he wondered which door to choose. There wasn't any difference between the two.

Finally, he shrugged, stepping across the hallway to open the one across from him. His hand hesitated on the doorknob, and he twisted it back and forth a couple times, testing it, wondering if he really should open it. Peter had no idea what was on the other side.

He thought of the other's words. His future self told him to not figure out how to be brave, to not find himself. Peter couldn't not do any of that though. In a sudden decision, one that set his heart pounded but silenced the angry voices in his mind, he yanked the door open.

Then just like that, the door was gone, and he was falling. Everything was black, and for a moment he placed his hand over his eyes, trembling all over as he fell. He squeaked in terror, unable to fully scream because there wasn't air in his lunges anymore.

A sickly green glow made him open his eyes. Nothing was in front of him, but under him, the source of the green light opened its mouth towards him. The Dark Mark's snake reached up for him, grabbing his body and pulling him down into the darkness.

Peter jerked awake, gasping as he sat upright in his bed. His heart pounded with the aftermath of his dream. He looked around him, terrified that something would grab him in the darkness. As he trembled on his bed, tucking his knees into his chest, he didn't realize that the dream began to float away from him. In a couple minutes, all he remembered from it was the fear, the terror, and for some reason, a silver hand.

Still, even without the memories, the nightmare left him sweating and panicked. His gasping breaths woke Sirius, who sat up and looked at him.

"Nightmare?" he asked, and Peter nodded, looking away and ashamed that his brave friend noticed it. "You wanna talk about it?" Sirius asked.

"No," Peter snapped, turning further away from him. He couldn't deal with more of Sirius's pity right now.

"Well okay," Sirius said, turning around and laying back down. "Don't attack me just for the trying to help." He clearly was annoyed, and Peter wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn't come out. So instead, he just laid back down, and Peter pretended like there was a chance he'd sleep again that night.

There it was again, he saw it in himself with Sirius. Everything he hated about himself rose once again – had it ever not been there? It just took a break when he was too terrified to think of anything – not even insecurities – clearly.

Peter Pettigrew – the boy who was never good enough.

For as much as we hate him, everyone has to admit it's fascinating writing Peter. I love his character because as a villain, he's not someone we even begin to forgive because he's written in a way that makes it hard to relate. He's ugly and scared and pathetic, but never any of those things in a way that romanticized them. I like making him a little more relatable than that because lets be real – that makes everyone uncomfortable.

Anyway, let me know what you think and please send me any requests.

Daily Writing Challenge 4! This is also for the themes challenge. Prompt is "Write about someone regretting a past choice"

Writing tumblr: Speaking-Out-Loud

Disclaimer: Not my universe