Disclaimer: Short and Sweet? JKR owns Harry Potter related material, I own this silly thing I call my imagination :P
First Impressions
Peter couldn't stop. He kept on stuttering. He was backing up, too, straight back towards the door. The door! He could just run! And...get shot in the back. Ok, not a great plan. But he wasn't much better by staying here, right? And running sounded really good...
"I'm honored you mistake me for such a great wizard, but, no, I am not Lord Voldemort."
Peter was startled by the voice. He knew he recognised it; he had heard that voice before. But who...? Peter gaped dumbly up at the wizard, too baffled to think about running now.
Lucius Malfoy pulled down the hood, looking about the place in disgust. He didn't like the errand much, but his master wanted this horrible excuse for a wizard contacted, and talked into joining the winning side. So here he was, in a dilapidated old...could you really call it a house? Holes and dirt everywhere, cold and barren, it was not up to Lucius' standards at all.
"You? Malfoy? What...what are you doing in my house?! Get out!" Peter jumped to anger. Malfoy had been the source of most to all of his troubles back at school. He thought he had been done with him. He had hoped at least. Bitterment stopped his fear for a bit, as Peter fumed. How dare he, just walk into his house and act mighty. He wouldn't stand for it. He wasn't a little schoolboy any longer. He wouldn't stand for it...even if Malfoy was older...and truth be told a far better wizard than him...
"Really, now, do you think I WANT to be here? I'm merely delivering a message. And I daresay, we want to make sure YOU get it, and no one else."
"Message? We? Who is 'we'? Who're you working with?" Peter was dreadfully confused. Malfoy never worked for anyone, he had lackies work for him. And he'd never seen him really work WITH anyone either. Malfoy liked control. Who would Malfoy ever work for? Surely not...he wouldn't want to see...was HE trying to reach Peter?
"My master seems to think more highly of you than I do. Personally, I think the world would be better off without a brainless fool like yourself. But my Lord Voldemort wishes to speak to you."
That did it. Peter's knees gave out and he sank to the floor. "Oh geez..." he muttered morosely. "I'm gonna die...I knew it...he'd come after me! Oh geez..." Lucius could hardly keep from laughing. Pettigrew really was a fool. Really, he was being invited to the winning side, to life and some real fun. And he was acting like he was heading for the gallows.
"If he wanted you dead, I could do that. I'd volunteer for it, even. He just wants to...enlighten you on certain issues. Someone will meet you outside the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, tommorrow night at 9:00. They will lead you to the proper meeting place. But I don't suggest trying anything funny. We've been watching you for a while, and it isn't hard to see when you're seeking help from those 'friends' of yours. They can't help you now, even if they would. And, listening to an offer like my Lord's can't hurt, now, can it?" Lucius smiled, and walked past the coward to the door.
"And I suggest being on time. If you miss it, my master might actually come here, and I don't think you'd like that meeting very much." With that he replaced his hood and swept out of the house into the frigid weather, leaving Peter very conflicted.
He should tell his friends. Yes, he should. They would help him. Malfoy may not think so, but what did it matter what Malfoy thought? They had stood up for him in the past. Remus had, and James had and...well, Sirius had too. He was sure of it...Yeah he had...hadn't he? Or was he merely fighting off Slytherins then? Had it been for Peter?
Of course it had. Sirius would stand up for him. He was sure of it. Well, pretty sure...and even so, the others would help.
Except, if he was being watched...he already knew they were after James and Lily...he couldn't LEAD them to James and Lily. And he didn't feel up for going to Sirius. Remus either...he'd just be dragging them into trouble. And what had Malfoy said? It was just a talk. And a talk couldn't hurt. He'd just stand up and tell them that he wouldn't ...do whatever they wanted him to do. He could do that. He had been a Gryffindor, after all. He could stand up for himself, and his friends.
With that, he went about his nightly errands, and settled himself for bed.
* * * * *
The next night was just as bad. Snow fell harshly outside the Three Broomsticks, and everyone rushed inside to get a nice mug of anything warm from Madam Rosmerta. Everyone except Peter. He stood there, teeth chattering and back hunched waiting for - who knows what! He wasn't altogether sure if it was the cold getting to him as much as the fear. Being brave was much easier when you had a day between you and the thing that scared you. And days have a way of passing by when you don't want them to. Why couldn't time act in any way useful to people?
Trying, futilely, to warm his hands, Peter felt a tap on his shoulder. The person just walked past him after that, and after a few moments hesitation, Peter followed. They walked farther and farther out of the village, towards the mountain. Soon they were climbing upwards, Peter panting heavily. He didn't care much what was at the end anymore. As long as they stopped eventually. He wasn't one for physical labour of any sort.
Presently they did reach a cave, and after Peter's original relief, he found himself wishing he could just keep going and ignore what was in front of him. His guide merely stepped aside. Peter was going in alone. 'Oh, geez...' he thought frantically, before finally stepping into the opening.
Without the wind, Peter expected it to be a bit warmer. But his blood ran cold. He knew what he thought was in here, and he would rather be frozen at the bottom of the Arctic sea than in here with a warm fire, which there wasn't. There was only a man sitting in the back, eyes cast downward. And a slight hissing in the room. Peter looked around trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. Then he finally figured it out. It was coming from the man! He was talking, almost...like a...
Snake! There was one, lying there just before the man, staring obediently up at him. Then it turned and left suddenly. Peter practically jumped out of its way. His heart was beating so fast, and his mind was in chaos. 'He's a parselmouth too...well, I should've guessed that...he is a Dark wizard, but...oh geez...'
"Mr. Pettigrew, I'm glad you could find your way all the way out here. And in such weather as well." The voice was high and mocking, and calm. He knew where the power was here. He knew who had control and who was just a stupid pawn, really. And he scared the living daylights out of Peter.
He opened his mouth to say that he wasn't going to listen and obey like some dog, or betray his friends or anything of the sort. But his mouth had gone dry, his throat scratchy, and his mind blanked. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't even close his mouth now. It was just sort of moving, forming words that were never going to be voiced. Presently he lifted his hand to close his mouth for him, and stood dumbly. Adrenaline had been pumped through his system ever since he entered the cave, and Peter was getting jittery from it. His fingers fidgeted and his hands shook. This hadn't been such a good idea.
Voldemort just smiled under his hood, for that was who the man was. And who else would it be? Who else would receive this much fear and respect from a man he'd never seen before? This would prove simple. He'd have what he wanted soon enough.
First Impressions
Peter couldn't stop. He kept on stuttering. He was backing up, too, straight back towards the door. The door! He could just run! And...get shot in the back. Ok, not a great plan. But he wasn't much better by staying here, right? And running sounded really good...
"I'm honored you mistake me for such a great wizard, but, no, I am not Lord Voldemort."
Peter was startled by the voice. He knew he recognised it; he had heard that voice before. But who...? Peter gaped dumbly up at the wizard, too baffled to think about running now.
Lucius Malfoy pulled down the hood, looking about the place in disgust. He didn't like the errand much, but his master wanted this horrible excuse for a wizard contacted, and talked into joining the winning side. So here he was, in a dilapidated old...could you really call it a house? Holes and dirt everywhere, cold and barren, it was not up to Lucius' standards at all.
"You? Malfoy? What...what are you doing in my house?! Get out!" Peter jumped to anger. Malfoy had been the source of most to all of his troubles back at school. He thought he had been done with him. He had hoped at least. Bitterment stopped his fear for a bit, as Peter fumed. How dare he, just walk into his house and act mighty. He wouldn't stand for it. He wasn't a little schoolboy any longer. He wouldn't stand for it...even if Malfoy was older...and truth be told a far better wizard than him...
"Really, now, do you think I WANT to be here? I'm merely delivering a message. And I daresay, we want to make sure YOU get it, and no one else."
"Message? We? Who is 'we'? Who're you working with?" Peter was dreadfully confused. Malfoy never worked for anyone, he had lackies work for him. And he'd never seen him really work WITH anyone either. Malfoy liked control. Who would Malfoy ever work for? Surely not...he wouldn't want to see...was HE trying to reach Peter?
"My master seems to think more highly of you than I do. Personally, I think the world would be better off without a brainless fool like yourself. But my Lord Voldemort wishes to speak to you."
That did it. Peter's knees gave out and he sank to the floor. "Oh geez..." he muttered morosely. "I'm gonna die...I knew it...he'd come after me! Oh geez..." Lucius could hardly keep from laughing. Pettigrew really was a fool. Really, he was being invited to the winning side, to life and some real fun. And he was acting like he was heading for the gallows.
"If he wanted you dead, I could do that. I'd volunteer for it, even. He just wants to...enlighten you on certain issues. Someone will meet you outside the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, tommorrow night at 9:00. They will lead you to the proper meeting place. But I don't suggest trying anything funny. We've been watching you for a while, and it isn't hard to see when you're seeking help from those 'friends' of yours. They can't help you now, even if they would. And, listening to an offer like my Lord's can't hurt, now, can it?" Lucius smiled, and walked past the coward to the door.
"And I suggest being on time. If you miss it, my master might actually come here, and I don't think you'd like that meeting very much." With that he replaced his hood and swept out of the house into the frigid weather, leaving Peter very conflicted.
He should tell his friends. Yes, he should. They would help him. Malfoy may not think so, but what did it matter what Malfoy thought? They had stood up for him in the past. Remus had, and James had and...well, Sirius had too. He was sure of it...Yeah he had...hadn't he? Or was he merely fighting off Slytherins then? Had it been for Peter?
Of course it had. Sirius would stand up for him. He was sure of it. Well, pretty sure...and even so, the others would help.
Except, if he was being watched...he already knew they were after James and Lily...he couldn't LEAD them to James and Lily. And he didn't feel up for going to Sirius. Remus either...he'd just be dragging them into trouble. And what had Malfoy said? It was just a talk. And a talk couldn't hurt. He'd just stand up and tell them that he wouldn't ...do whatever they wanted him to do. He could do that. He had been a Gryffindor, after all. He could stand up for himself, and his friends.
With that, he went about his nightly errands, and settled himself for bed.
* * * * *
The next night was just as bad. Snow fell harshly outside the Three Broomsticks, and everyone rushed inside to get a nice mug of anything warm from Madam Rosmerta. Everyone except Peter. He stood there, teeth chattering and back hunched waiting for - who knows what! He wasn't altogether sure if it was the cold getting to him as much as the fear. Being brave was much easier when you had a day between you and the thing that scared you. And days have a way of passing by when you don't want them to. Why couldn't time act in any way useful to people?
Trying, futilely, to warm his hands, Peter felt a tap on his shoulder. The person just walked past him after that, and after a few moments hesitation, Peter followed. They walked farther and farther out of the village, towards the mountain. Soon they were climbing upwards, Peter panting heavily. He didn't care much what was at the end anymore. As long as they stopped eventually. He wasn't one for physical labour of any sort.
Presently they did reach a cave, and after Peter's original relief, he found himself wishing he could just keep going and ignore what was in front of him. His guide merely stepped aside. Peter was going in alone. 'Oh, geez...' he thought frantically, before finally stepping into the opening.
Without the wind, Peter expected it to be a bit warmer. But his blood ran cold. He knew what he thought was in here, and he would rather be frozen at the bottom of the Arctic sea than in here with a warm fire, which there wasn't. There was only a man sitting in the back, eyes cast downward. And a slight hissing in the room. Peter looked around trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. Then he finally figured it out. It was coming from the man! He was talking, almost...like a...
Snake! There was one, lying there just before the man, staring obediently up at him. Then it turned and left suddenly. Peter practically jumped out of its way. His heart was beating so fast, and his mind was in chaos. 'He's a parselmouth too...well, I should've guessed that...he is a Dark wizard, but...oh geez...'
"Mr. Pettigrew, I'm glad you could find your way all the way out here. And in such weather as well." The voice was high and mocking, and calm. He knew where the power was here. He knew who had control and who was just a stupid pawn, really. And he scared the living daylights out of Peter.
He opened his mouth to say that he wasn't going to listen and obey like some dog, or betray his friends or anything of the sort. But his mouth had gone dry, his throat scratchy, and his mind blanked. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't even close his mouth now. It was just sort of moving, forming words that were never going to be voiced. Presently he lifted his hand to close his mouth for him, and stood dumbly. Adrenaline had been pumped through his system ever since he entered the cave, and Peter was getting jittery from it. His fingers fidgeted and his hands shook. This hadn't been such a good idea.
Voldemort just smiled under his hood, for that was who the man was. And who else would it be? Who else would receive this much fear and respect from a man he'd never seen before? This would prove simple. He'd have what he wanted soon enough.