Play Dead
~**Twink**~
Play
dead, Peter. Just play dead. Wait, just wait. The next family, just play dead,
don't think about Sirius, don't think about Master, don't think about Harry,
don't think. Just play dead.
"Daddy, look!" shouted a little boy.
"What is it, Percy?" asked his father.
"It's a rat, it looks dead," said
Percy. The man took out his wand and tapped it twice, and it stirred.
"It's not dead, son," said the boy's
father. "It might be sick though, so don't touch it."
"Daddy, can we keep it?" asked Percy.
"Please?"
"What about your mother?" asked his father. "You don't want a sick rat near a pregnant woman,
let alone a baby. See? He's got a toe missing."
"Please, Daddy," said Percy. "Have you no
empathy?"
"Where did you learn that word?" asked his
father in surprise.
"I heard Bill using it," said Percy. "Please,
Daddy?"
"Alright, fine," said his father.
Just keep
playing dead. You've found a family. Just wait, just wait. When word comes,
just leave. Don't get attached, play dead. Just play dead.
"Here, son," said the boy's father. "Pick it
up with this, and don't touch it." He handed the boy a newspaper.
"Daddy, who's Sirius Black?"
asked Percy.
"He's a very bad man," said the boy's father.
"He destroyed Harry Potter's life."
"Oh," said Percy. "I think I'll name him
Scabbers."
"Well, Percy, Scabbers, let's go back to the
house and find some sort of cage," said the boy's father.
"Thank you, Daddy," said Percy. "Come on,
Scabbers." The little boy brought in the rat on the newspaper and put it in a
shoe box in his room. The rat smiled.
Well done,
Peter.
A/N: What do you think? Be a doll and tell
me. Review.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, at all.
Damn.
