A/N: It's 3:30 in the morning here in the Great White North, but that's always when the muse hits. Evidently it's not big on me getting much in the way of sleep tonight, I'm sure you've all been here. This chapter focuses on Peter and the ten minutes before and after he tells Voldemort of the Potters whereabouts. Enjoy!

9:00pm

Peter didn't mind the feeling of apparation. In fact, in a sick, masochistic kind of way, he relished in the feeling. Being voluntarily forced through a thin pipe almost to the point of suffocation, only to be dropped, suddenly freed of the discomfort. It made him feel powerful. He could control where he wanted to go, down to the step he wanted to land on. Yes power wasn't something that Peter often had, thus his constant thirst to please those who could promise him plenty. And perhaps if Peter had not been thinking about this so intently, he would have arrived closer to his intended destination.

Indeed, young Peter Pettigrew knew where he was. A fair ten minutes walk to Malfoy Manor, where his omnipotent, omniscient Master awaited his word. Words that would hold him in higher regard than any other Death Eater. And he knew he bloody well deserved it! No one had spied as thoroughly as he! No one had acted the part of innocent as well as he! No one had been as undetectable or less suspicious than Peter because no one was trusted by the other side the way he was! No, Lucius' money and influence would not hold a candle to the news Peter had for his Lord.

9:05pm

No one had ever thought he would accomplish much. Of course he would get a mediocre job that would pay the rent for a small flat. He would follow Lily and James and Sirius and Remus like the entranced buffoon they all anticipated him to be. Be a doting uncle to the son Lily so adored. Be the soft and quiet friend that Remus often needed. The admiring ego boost for James. And the blindly faithful follower to Sirius. Watch as they all fell in love, settled down, and forgot to frequently contact him. Caught up in their own perfection.

Had their been no war, perhaps the fates would have let it be so. Perhaps Peter would have settled into this life, not necessarily fulfilling, but content. Filled with love and trust. And maybe if he'd been a true Gryffindor, like his three best friends, he'd have sacrificed his life to keep them safe. But Peter was greedy and terrified. When the Dark Lord had personally sought out his help, Peter felt as though, for once, he was actually needed.

9:07pm

The Marauders had never truly needed Peter. They'd have figured a way to get under the Willow had he not been there, as a rat, to help them. Sirius and James had never asked him for help planning a prank; they were brilliant, and any needed help came from the vast mind of Remus. Nor had his three friends needed his assistance in the creating of the Map. They were tall. They were intelligent. They were all rather handsome, even Remus, who believed his scars made him monstrous. Moony, Padfoot and Prongs. They were everything Peter was not. And though he loved them dearly, he hated them for it. So he used what he knew to create their downfall; trust and loyalty.

It had been so much easier than he'd planned. Tensions were high, the fear that Lily, James and baby Harry were in danger mounted with every day. Sirius was eager to find safety for the only family he'd ever truly loved. Peter dropped hints about Remus being the spy, made it seem as though it hurt him deeply to 'distrust' his dear friend. And Sirius believed him. Because it was Peter, dumb Peter, who could never manage a complex mission. Because he so desperately needed something to believe in. Remus was just as easy. All Peter had had to do was play into the werewolf's insecurities. Make Remus believe he was not good enough in Sirius' eyes. Make him believe that he was suspected of being a spy. That they thought he was a monster. But not Peter, on no, he knew Remus would never do such a thing, never even hurt a fly! It was just that he had heard Siri voice such certain distrust, that he thought Remy ought to know.

He had them both eating out of his hand; Sirius in a protective fury, Remus in a quiet despair. Even James had trusted Peter enough to make him secret keeper, and Lily trusted James' judgement. After all, he and Pete had been best mates for ten years, why shouldn't he be trusted?

And Peter was thankful for this logic. It had made his job far easier. A job which he was about to be greatly rewarded for.

9:09:50-Ten

He was at the gate.

Nine

Perhaps this would make him something of a second-in-command.

Eight

He would have power over them.

Seven

Bella would have to worship him.

Six

Dumbledore would baffle at his genius.

Five

He grinned as he climbed the first step.

Four

He would be revered, and hated, and powerful.

Three

And only Sirius would know.

Two

Sirius, whom he planned to kill after the Dark Lord killed the Potters.

One

A cold voice. "You're late, Wormtail"


11:00pm

It was done. There was no turning back. He sat alone in his flat, no Death Eaters, no Order Members, simply alone.

The steady drip of his faucet had stopped, much like his world. He had made the right decision. He would know if he hadn't. They would be killed tomorrow night. That was it. That easy. The Dark Lord had been so pleased, had held Peter as an example to his other Death Eaters, offered him riches beyond his dreams after Harry had been killed. Bella was furious, yet unable to touch him. Peter ought to be simply ecstatic. Ought to be tap dancing and singing a jaunty tune in the middle of a busy London street. Ought to be revising his plan to kill Sirius.

11:05pm

And yet he felt as though a full body bind had be placed upon him.

Air-ways too tight.

Tear ducts burning.

Blood pounding in his brain.

Acid churning in his stomach.

And emptiness. Pure, unrestrained emptiness. A void in his heart that threatened to be quickly filled with anguish and regret. But what good would that do him? It wouldn't bring him happiness. It wouldn't take back the betrayal of his dearest friends.

11:07pm

And what exactly did he think he could do now? There was no way in hell he could produce a confundus charm strong enough to wipe the memories of the Dark Lord and all of the Death Eaters. His friends were going to die a horrible death. An innocent child was to be murdered at the hands of a cruel, insecure, and undeniably insane man. But there was no way Peter could end this in a win-win situation. No matter how many ways he looked at it, no one won, not even the Dark Lord.

He could let Sirius live, let Remus find out what he had done. However the two of them would kill him and go to Azkaban for it. Lose-Lose.

He could kill Sirius; make him out to be the evil friend-betrayer; leave Remus alone and let the despair drive him to an early grave. He would be the last Marauder. Alone, and unloved. Again, lose-lose.

He could warn Dumbledore, the Potters, the Order; prepare them for the coming of the Dark Lord. Give them time to escape to a new home with a new fidelius charm and a new secret keeper. They would hate him, he'd be thrown into Azkaban. That is, if the Dark Lord didn't kill him first. Definitely lose-lose.

Or he could just let the events play out. Let the chips fall where they may. Hide away from the wizarding world as a rat. Voldemort would reign, continue killing, but would never be satisfied with the ever rising death toll. His problems ran far too deep for that. People would continue to suffer and die, to live in fear. More lose-lose, but at least Peter could lose from a distance.

11:09pm

And so, being the coward he was, Peter stifled the empty feeling with determination to make the best of his impending life as a rat.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five.

Four.

They were tall.

Three.

They were intelligent.

Two.

They were handsome.

One.

And they would all die because of him.

And there you have my feeble attempt at a peek into Peter's betrayal. R&R.