A/N: Here's chapter three of the mini-series. Sorry that this one took a little longer to get out. I've been on vacation in Canada for the last two days and I just got a chance to finish this up. Once again this one-shot is more on the serious side. I assure you though that last one will be more light-hearted.

I hope you enjoy, and remember, reviews are ALWAYS welcome :)


And yet I'm torn apart
Just because I'm presumin'
That I could be a human
If I only had a heart
"If I Only Had a Heart" - The Wizard of Oz

A Heart: Peter Pettigrew

"Well Wormtail, I pray you have the information that I seek?"

Peter Pettigrew dropped to his knees, bowing down to the Dark Lord. "Yes, master," he replied, addressing the floor in front of him, "just last night the Potter's decided to make me their secret keeper instead of Sirius Black. The Fidelus Charm was performed this morning. I am now the only soul alive who can reveal their location."

"Excellent," Voldemort's cold, high voice was filled with a frightening sort of excitement. It was the type of excitement that meant nothing but bad news. Just the one word was enough to send shivers up Peter's spine. Like the other Death Eaters, he was well aware that anything that stirred positive reactions in the Dark Lord meant that someone else would be facing negative outcomes.

"Wormtail?" Voldemort's voice pierced the stale air of the nondescript room the two were located in. An eerie sort of echo reverberated off the stone walls.

"Yes, master?" Peter tried to remain calm, keep his voice steady. He did not want the fear filling in his body to be displayed in any way. Voldemort was not kind to any form of weakness, especially fear.

"There is something I must know before I ask you for the location of the Potters. Would you please rise and face me." It was not a request. The Dark Lord did not make requests; he only gave orders.

Peter drew in a shaky breath and reluctantly rose to his feet. He tried not to flinch as he stared at Voldemort's feline eyes with his own rat-like ones. It was like a predator staring into the eyes of its prey. His fear swelled considerably, consuming every bone in his body and he shook so badly it was a miracle that he was not back on the hard dirt floor once again. Every bone in his body urged him to run. Natural instincts. Fight of flee. A rat stood no chance against a vicious cat. There was no use in even attempting to fight.

Suddenly, trying to hide his emotions was not Peter's biggest concerns.

"Wormtail," Voldemort said again. His scarlet eyes burned into Peter's as if looking deep into his soul. Peter gave an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak in reply. "Are you really ready to hand over the life of your friends to the Dark Lord?" The question was asked with genuine curiosity though there was an underlying hint of malice and what seemed strangely like...glee. It was an incredibly odd combination, especially coming from the frequently emotionless man who sat in front of Peter.

His eyes widened in shock. Ready? Of course he was not ready. Was anyone ever ready to betray their friends? To know that they were responsible for ending someone's lives? No, Peter knew he was not ready to give Lord Voldemort the life of James Potter and his wife Lily, two of only four people who treated him as a friend, an equal. They had entrusted him with a secret so vital to their existence and he was about to betray their trust by revealing it to the one man he could not tell under any circumstances.

He was a traitor. He was a lowlife. He was scum. He was a rat.

Peter had always wondered why his animagus form was the rat. When he was younger it had bothered him that James and Sirius had forms so much cooler than his.

Now he understood. When researching on transformations, The Marauders had learned that a human's most prominent qualities determined what animal they would become. Sirius was the dog because he was loyal, playful, and protective. James was the stag because he was strong, yet had a sort of graceful air.

And he was a rat because he was a coward, a crook, and a sneaky, betraying bastard.

Then there was the fact that Peter knew he had to do all that he could to keep himself alive. He had a natural instinct at survival. He knew that The Order of the Phoenix had chosen the wrong side of the war. The losing side. They put themselves in harms way. In dangerous situations. Peter couldn't do that to himself. Couldn't risk his life to save others. He only knew how to save himself.

Selling out the Potters was definitely a way to save himself. Even if he knew in his heart that it was a terrible decision.

A heart. Peter almost laughed, but instead gave another frightened squeak. Did he even have a heart? He was sure that if he did he would never have become a Death Eater. It was a path that led to horrible things. The Death Eaters were told to complete the most gruesome tasks, ones that only the heartless would be able to perform. Peter had been asked to kill innocent people. He was asked to betray his friends.

There was only one answer to the question that was presented to him.

Peter let out a shaky breath but when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly clear and steady.

"I am prepared to do anything in the benefit of the great Dark Lord."