A Moment to Grieve
As tradition since Voldemort had taken over the Ministry, the Order meeting was tense and quiet; though everyone's rational sides knew that the charms and protective spells guarding the burrow were not likely to be broken. Still, there was always the chance that this could be the time the death eaters broke through the defenses. As so many people were either in hiding or occupied with imperative missions, the numbers of Order members sitting around the table, sharing tidbits of information and swigging butterbeer, was rather dwindled.
Remus sat next to Tonks, whose stomach had now grown to such an alarming size that he feared that the baby would burst forth at any moment, even though she was not due for another month, and contemplated the news that was washing over him. Sadly, most of it was not out of the ordinary; there had been another mass muggle killing in Liverpool and Robert Macmillan, a member of a prominent wizard family that had showed Dumbledore enormous supported, had been tortured and killed by Bellatrix.
It was all horrible, but it was all the same as it had been for the last few months and everyone around the table had grown more subdued with the constant chaos and the realization that they could do very little to stop it.
"So, any more new deaths to report?" asked Kingsley casually, far too casually for Remus' comfort. A couple of Order members mentioned a few muggle-borns who had been captured and killed. There were a few grimaces but noting more acknowledged the horror of the brutal acts.
"Well, if that's it," said Arthur Weasley, glancing around his kitchen apprehensively, "then I think we should call it a day." Several people nodded in agreement and began collecting their things, apparently eager to disperse from the conspicuous gathering of Voldemort's most wanted.
"Wait," said Bill suddenly, raising his head so that his scarred face was thrown into sharp relief by the candle stub slowly dripping wax onto the table. "I have a murder to report. A death eater – Wormtail."
Several people looked up sharply and a few eyes flicked to Remus in what they obviously assumed was a discreet way. Remus himself felt a gasp escape from his lips before he could help it. There was a knot twisting in his stomach though, for the life of him, he could not figure out why. He had wanted this to happen, hadn't he? The last time he had been face to face with Peter, he would have killed him if it had not been for Harry, citing James.
But, now, there was an icy chill in his finger tips that was slowly spreading through his body and it felt as though a dementer was closing in on him but try as he might, he could not come up with any happy memories –not of Wormtail.
"How – how did it happen?" he wished that his voice to not sound so pained because he was not affected by this. This was good news – another death eater was dead and he should at least feel satisfied, if not joyful. But all he could feel was horror and he just could not figure out why.
"According to what I heard, he hesitated when about to attack…someone," Bill looked slightly uncomfortable but Remus did not care why, "And he was strangled by his own hand. You know, the one You-Know-Who made for him." Several people began to titter and mutter but Remus did not notice. He felt the coldness that had swept over him turn to chills at this new information and he knew he could not longer sit in his calm façade.
"Excuse me," he mumbled, stumbling from his seat. He felt Tonks' arm on his sleeve, as though asking if he wanted company but he quickly shook his head and strode quickly from the room.
When he reached the back exit of the burrow, he stumbled through the doorway, clutching his stomach. He reached the first overgrown bushes he could find and heaved into them, emptying his stomach. Despite what he told himself, he knew why Pettigrew's death was affecting him so much. It was merely that he was dead and that he, Remus, was the surviving marauder. Of course, he had felt that way for nearly seventeen years.
He remembered the situation only too vividly. James was dead, Peter was perceived to be dead, and Sirius was considered to be the cause of both. And Remus was cast into the shadows, just like always. Then, two years ago, Sirius had been taken from him again and he was alone again. It was not until this moment that he realized that he had taken any comfort in Peter's existence – as traitorous and pathetic he had turned out to be. The fact remained that they had once been friends – more than friends, even; they had once shared a bond that Remus had considered unbreakable.
He pulled himself out of his chosen bush and ambled around the yard, past scrawny chickens and unkempt weeds. Remembering a conversation he had shared with Peter so many years ago. Based on the timeline that was now ingrained in his mind, he knew it must have taken place around the time Peter first joined Voldemort.
It had been a lazy summer evening, one of the last times they had all been together for such an extended period of time. Lily had been putting the newborn Harry asleep while James was busy with a conference call with Dumbledore of which he had been unable to evade. Sirius was sleeping on the floor, long limbs sprawled every which way and handsome face covered with strands of dark hair. Peter had come over to where Remus had been sitting on the sofa and had held out a butterbeer, which Remus gratefully accepted, before collapsing next to him and taking a swig from his own bottle.
"What do you think Dumbledore's talking to James about?" he asked, fiddling nervously with the hem of his button down shirt.
"Probably something to do with a mission for the Order," Remus had answered. Truthfully, he had little free space in his mind to take interest of what he was sure was a routine fire call, having received his own orders to make contact with the werewolves only days earlier.
"Probably something dangerous," Peter said softly, covering the tremor in his voice with a quick laugh but Remus knew Peter well enough to see how terrified he really was.
"Hey, Wormtail, you know Dumbledore wouldn't give James anything he couldn't handle." He rested a pale hand on Peter's knee. He was not innately physical, like Sirius, but he knew that Peter needed the comfort that tangible contact offered.
To his surprise, however, Peter brushed him off. "I'm serious, Moony," he said in a harsh whisper, not even trying to hide the panic in his voice, "Do you think any of us can be assured safety against the death eaters, against You-Know-Who? Look at the Dorcas Meadows, Benji Fenwick – who knows who will be next." Peter stopped suddenly and sank into the folds of the couch, breathing heavily, a few tears falling down his cheeks as consequence of the fervor he had worked himself into.
Remus did not know what to say. True, Peter was only repeating the thoughts of every Order member but that did not mean that Remus had answers for him. "I don't know, Pete," he said slowly, "You know I never got the hang of divination," he added in an attempt to lighten the mood. He was not surprised when he failed.
"I don't want to die," Peter said bluntly, his voice cracking in a way that made Remus' insides twist, "I know that sounds cowardly but I'm not brave and I can't be, I just can't be. I'm sorry, Remus. Merlin I'm sorry."
"No one would be disappointed in you for fearing death." But Peter had just shaken his head, refusing to be comforted.
Looking back at that conversation, Remus knew that Peter had been attempting to apologize for the sins he knew he was going to commit. Perhaps it was Peter's paralyzing fear of death that had driven him to betray his friends but he could not help thinking ironically that he had ultimately died at his own hand. He found no amusement in this thought, however.
Instead, he felt tears trickling down his cheeks and he wiped at them absent mindedly, remembering how scared Peter had been and how much he had wanted to comfort him, to relieve his fear and how he had failed. He had always seen the situation as Peter failing him but perhaps Peter's shortcomings had arisen from his futile efforts to see how far into fear Peter had sunk.
But no matter the reason, Peter was dead and he was not coming back. In one terrible act, Remus had lost both an enemy and an old friend. He knew that for his part in the war he would need to focus on the former but for a moment, before he returned to the house to take Tonks home, he would take a moment to grieve for is friend.
A/N: I always wondered how Remus reacted to Peter's death and I like to believe that the news would be met with bittersweet nostalgia. This was proofread but not looked over by a beta so sorry for any grammatical errors.