Title: Confessions of a Traitor
Genre: Harry Potter, Marauder's Era
Rating: PG14
Main Character: Peter Pettigrew
Pairings: James/Lily, Remus/Sirius, others
Summary: "Maybe that was when it had started. Or maybe it had always been there—the capacity to betray his best friends, to perform the Unforgivable Curses, to murder those he had thought he loved most."
--
Part Two: Accepting a Pawn for Sacrifice
Peter always knew that the Marauders hadn't meant for things to happen that way—it was just how life worked.
In fifth year, James was too busy dealing with Sirius's deteriorating family ties to pay much attention to Peter. That was okay, James had always made more attention to Sirius than to Peter. It was something Peter understood was just the way of their group—Sirius before Peter.
In sixth year, James paid so little attention to him that Peter had begun to be stupider on purpose just to get James to glance at him, or correct him, or talk to him in any manner. The boy was head over heels in love and had no time for anything else—except that he made time for Remus when that whole Snape Prank went over wrong. That also was something Peter understood was just the way of their group—Remus was fragile, in a mental and social way, and needed James to help him as the leader.
What Peter didn't understand was when Sirius and Remus drew closer as a result of the Prank and James ignoring Sirius for Lily. He didn't understand how James had come to put a girl—honestly, of all things!—above Sirius and how Sirius was sticking to Remus how he had once stuck to James. But… Sirius and Remus was also somehow different then James and Sirius, Peter just couldn't put his finger on what though.
Sirius and Remus left Peter to deal with the lovesick James more and more. Peter was only getting more and more sick of the whole situation.
In seventh year, James caught Lily and they began dating—and that was the end of the world of James involving Peter in anything.
With his idol off prancing with a silly girl (honestly!), and Sirius and Remus off doing—whatever it was they did while they were gone from the Gryffindor Tower for hours and hours, there was little time for the Marauders. And when there was time for the Marauders, Peter felt like his spot was being filled by the redheaded girl who had decided James's lap was her throne.
More often then not, Peter was left to his own devices. He tried to continue their Ruling by Pranks on the students of Hogwarts, but he just wasn't as good by himself. He couldn't come up with the awesome pranks that James always had, or plot them out like Sirius, or troubleshoot them like Remus.
It just wasn't the same.
Of course, he had never thought that the Slytherins would use this situation to catch him unawares and alone. Feeling threatened by Slytherin had been something done ago, back when they didn't know one of their group was a werewolf and that they were all the most incredibly illegal but skillful wizards of their age.
But at the time, he just was wishing hadn't been so arrogant and idealistic.
Still, it happened again and again.
And each time, none of the other Marauders would come to save him. None of them cared, the voice would whisper and sometimes he believed it.
One day the happenings had managed to become more then just a scuffle in the hallways which left him bruised and hexed, this time the fight had become a bit too real for its own good. And as Peter lay in a crumpled heap on the stone floor, he wished that if any of his friends would come ever to help him, it would be now.
Instead he woke to a familiar, if unnerving presence.
--
Regulus sat on the edge of the hospital wing bed—he'd been in them enough to know where he was without opening his eyes—peering at him, half in fear, and half in contempt.
"What the bloody fuck are you doing here, Black?" Peter growled, aware that Madam Pomfrey was no where in sight and knowing that Regulus could do something horrible to him if he appeared weak.
The lone Black heir seemed to begin to sneer for a moment before suddenly changing tactics and going with a simple frown. "I want you to join us." He spoke quietly but with such intensity that Peter's eyes widened.
Of course Peter knew what he meant. He was a seventh year, nearly out in the world already. Dumbledore had all the Marauders in his little pro-muggle club already, preparing them for the coming war.
"Not on your life." He tried to growl but only managed a sputter.
"I see." Regulus's frown deepened slightly, so reminiscent of Sirius that Peter had to fight to keep his face composed when the Black heir glanced at his fingernails with the air of one trying to keep from flicking a particularly nasty bug away because it would be rude to the people around him—regardless of the fact no one was around. "I wanted to give you a chance, but I see there is little choice in the matter."
Regulus pulled out his wand, holding it lightly in his grasp. Peter realized after a moment that he was defenseless and made a jolted search for his own wand—which of course was in Regulus's other hand.
"What do you want?" Peter tried again to appear tough, but his voice was edging towards a squeak—something that had embarrassed him endlessly ever since his completion of the Animagus transformations.
The younger version of Sirius studied Peter for a moment before twirling his wand in hand and responding, "We know your friends have given you up for the dead." Peter flinched, "But we are willing to offer you a second chance—with us." He tapped the wand on his arm—something that's meaning escaped Peter entirely.
Peter twisted his face into an attempt at a scowl. His mind was racing to discover what meaning Regulus was trying to portray to him. Somehow, the conversation reminded him of chess—something he was excellent at. Peter had stiffened his defense, but Regulus was offering up a pawn for sacrifice and Peter was cautious to disregard or accept such a strange offer.
Regulus's blue eyes—so different than Sirius's grey eyes, but also very much the same—watched him silently. Peter glanced from the boy to the wand twirling in one hand, to his own wand in Regulus's other hand. A grin spread across Regulus's face then. "Still not willing to accept? Well you will in time." Regulus pointed his wand at Peter's throat, "We are willing to offer you time to understand our offer, but if you tell anyone else about… this, we will know." A soft light encased Peter's throat, wrapping around his head before disappearing.
Peter's eyes widened. Unspoken magic? Since when was that even possible? He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. Regulus's frown of haughty disapproval quickly became a sneer.
"Like I said, we will know." And with that, Regulus swept off and disappeared through the door, leaving Peter alone in the hospital wing.
"Are you feeling better Mr. Pettigrew?" Madam Pomfrey peered into the room.
Peter tried not to scowl at her—if only she had been a few minutes earlier! He opened his mouth to reply but not a sound came out, so he just nodded and slipped away as quick as possible.
--
Peter tried his hardest to capture his fellow Marauders' attention, but when he couldn't make a single noise, the others just ignored him. Or maybe they didn't even notice him. Either way, they didn't know and therefore couldn't help.
After a moment, Peter even tried to write down what he wanted to tell them, but as soon as the words came to mind, they disappeared under his quill.
In the end, Peter realized there was very little he could do but think of some way to avoid Regulus and his groupies until he was safely out of school.
--
Of course, that did not go as planned. The Slytherins found him the next day and brought him down hard. Snape was always vicious when he was with the group that attacked Peter and this time was no different.
Snape had him pinned with a knee digging into his ribs and his wand out of reach.
"So, have you thought about it, Worm?" Snape sneered at the pudgy boy below him. Peter yelped as Snape's wand dug into his neck, "Have you? Because we won't give you much longer." The point of the wand dug deeper into his skin, a bruise already welling up in its place, "And if you don't accept, we'll just have to kill you." Snape's sneer curled at the edges, letting Peter know he would prefer this path more then Peter accepting, "Such a pity." He spit into the blonde boy's face.
Then they were gone and Peter was alone again.
He picked himself up off the floor carefully. His body marked by hexes and a few curses he hadn't been able to dodge or block. Snatching his wand up, he began the process of fixing himself up. It was good that he had learned so many spells for healing from dealing with Remus and so many counter-curses from dealing with James and Sirius's pranks.
Soon he was up, not as good as new, but walking. The voice in the back of his mind chortled that if he didn't do this every time, his friend would have realized something was wrong ages ago. He ignored the voice. It there was one thing he had learned from being in Gryffindor, it was that he had pride—not much, but enough.