Well, I guess I'm back from the dead! Here is truly my first attempt at writing since Hurricane, so I'm expecting it to suck. Please, R/R! Leave comments, criticisms, what you like, what you didn't, anything at all! This story is something that kind of came to me on the spur of the moment when I was listening to the John Hampson LP "Seventeen Minutes and Thirty-Eight Seconds in the Dark"- the song "The In Crowd" really struck me and got me thinking. And here you have the results of my thinking- a MWPP-era fic. I still don't like ANYTHING Peter Pettigrew did in canon or my story, but just thought I'd explore possibilities of why he did those things. Happy reading and Happy Holidays to everyone, regardless of what you celebrate(d)!

love, peace, and all things glitter – lily

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything from this story- the characters belong to her genius-ness J.K. Rowling and associated publishing companies, the song belongs to John Hampson, and the dates that are given were based on the Harry Potter Lexicon. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made on this story apart from the personal enjoyment I get in writing it.

Coming Undone

A story of Peter Pettigrew

 "Pettigrew… that little fat boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?"

"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter. Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I- how I regret that now… "

"Stupid boy… foolish boy… he was always hopeless at dueling…should have left it to the Ministry …"

 Spin away the combination for the last time
Say goodbye to this year
Wish I had a way to avoid the empty summer that awaits me
They'll drink and make a toast
Celebrating their new freedom
I'll sit alone on the couch
Coming undone

1978

Exams were over- school was over. For good. Surrounded by the chattering of his fellow Gryffindors, Peter Pettigrew made his way up towards the Tower. He shuffled his feet over the rough, worn stone steps, losing himself in the mass of exited students.

"Lemon-scented," he mumbled to the portrait of the fat lady, which swung open. Ignoring the people situated happily, comfortable, in the sun-drenched room, he continued his march onward. Finally in his dormitory, he flopped down on his bed, glad for once that it was devoid of its usual occupants. Something had changed in him- he was always somehow on the outside of James, Sirius, and Remus' camaraderie.

Mulling his drastically shifting life over in his head, he thought of the year coming now to a close. While the quartet's pranks hadn't ended, they had lowered their profile and toned it down. James had settled down with Lily- they were scheduled to marry the end of August. Sirius had had a final falling-out with his family and vowed never to return again, and secured himself a home. Remus began worrying more than ever about his unstable life after school. And Peter… Peter had secretly, slyly, unknown to his friends, started a whole life they didn't know of, one where he wasn't just the person who followed them around. Outwardly he was the same bland, forgettable Peter Pettigrew, but inside-

He thought of his contacts outside the school, which his friends knew nothing about, and felt a fresh surge of guilt. What would his friends think if they knew he was becoming closer and closer to those which they fought against, that Peter himself was only a few steps away from being a member of the group which his friends had sworn to fight? Lily and James had defeated Voldemort and his rising power once, and now their best friend was joining their nemesis.

 My girlfriend's a remote control cause I
Can turn her on for hours at a time
And I don't think I've ever known a life
That I was part of the In Crowd

            Peter was slowly sinking into his life of the Dark Arts, unbeknownst to his friends, living his normal life as though on autopilot. For the next year he followed his friends around as if it were a duty, all the while his mind on other things. In the back of his thoughts he realized that it was odd that even though they were all out of school, he still followed his friends around like a lovesick admirer. Here he was, graduated from school, still living off his friends' popularity, following around on the wake of their success. His links to them slowly dissolved, until it was only the Marauders that he kept in touch with.

 Turn around another day, another disgrace
Fall flat on my face
I wish I had a freakin' license
Get a car and head out west
They'll smoke and burn it down
Rocking out with their new freedom
I'll sit alone on the couch
Coming undone

1980

"Happy New Year!" Shouts rang at midnight throughout the hall of Lily and James Potter's small but festive cottage in Godric's Hollow. Peter looked around at the crowd gathered and felt a sudden burst of nostalgia- old school friends were here together for the first time since graduation. He scanned the group of familiar faces, a sense of happiness that he had not felt in almost a year welling up inside him, when, with a pang, his watery eyes alighted on the radiant figure in the center of the room.

Lily Evans- no, Lily Potter, in all her glory. She seemed to be radiating happiness and beauty there on the arm of her husband. She leaned over, ruffled James' already out-of-control raven-black hair, whispered something in his ear, and giggled with a smile that practically lit up the room. Jealousy constricted Peter's throat at the sight of this pure joy. He quickly, and almost violently, grabbed two flutes of champagne from the waiter's tray as he passed, drinking the first in two gulps and then downing the second much the same way. Within seconds he felt infinitely better, warmed, and his jealousy melted, or covered.

A third flute in hand, he walked toward Lily just in time for her to call for silence. "James and I have an announcement to make," she said, her mellifluous voice carrying throughout the hall. Her ruby-red lips broke into a contagious smile- "We're expecting!" Peter froze mid-step, and looked at his hand to see it drenched in golden champagne and shards of glass. The sounds of his glass breaking and his wail of disappointment were masked by the renewed cheers of his friends surrounding him. He was pushed aside by the swarms of people wanting eagerly to congratulate the father- and mother-to-be.

Grabbing a fourth glass of champagne, he stumbled blindly for the door, and sat himself down on the Potter's small wooden porch steps. A bitingly cold January wind chilled him to the bone, bringing him out of his drunken trance into reality. A warm, salty tear ran down his icy cheek and he sighed. Suddenly, a warm body joined him on his freezing sentry-post.

"You know, James' Marauding days aren't officially over until the baby's born in the middle of the summer," Remus' gentle voice joked from next to him.

Peter managed a weak smile before totally breaking down. Tears streamed down his face in total earnestness. "It's just… Lily… can't believe… won't believe… the whole year… Lucius said… don't want to…" he sobbed. He took another sip of his drink and another violent sob heaved through his body.

"Peter, stop talking nonsense and acting like an ass. It's not the end of the world, you know, them having a baby," Remus chided. "And what are you talking about that prat Lucius for? Don't bother yourself with filth like him."

But Peter pushed him away clumsily- the alcohol was starting to get the better of him. "You don't understand," he said sloppily, standing up and heading inside. " 'Smore than that," he drawled. He re-entered the warm, bright hall filled with guests; everyone's faced turned towards the door and the wreck that came in the room that was Peter.  "James I hope you're happy now and you ruined my life and see you soon and I have to go," he announced, his voice two notches above normal level and his words slurring, echoing in the otherwise-silent hall. He turned on his heels and walked out, but not before stumbling and falling. He slammed the door shut behind him, the silence pervading the room for a few moments after; then, all of a sudden, the silence broke and an exited, curious buzz filled the room.

"Who was that?"

"Old Peter Pettigrew…"

"One who used to follow James around?"

"Drunk, I suppose…"

"Off his ass… acted like one too . . . "

"Should be ashamed . . . "

"Was he at school with us?"

Peter apparated into his London flat, a sobbing, drunken mess. He collapsed onto the wood floor, just short of his bed, passed out.

Doesn't anyone hear the sound of my voice?
I'm talking so loud so no one has a choice
If I keep you near I'm such a satellite boy
And I'll disappear into a blue light void

Peter awoke in the late afternoon, ravished by a fierce hangover that kept him near the toilet for the better part of the day. He was sitting down to some toast and tea in the early evening, a pounding headache taking over, when suddenly there was a voice behind him. He turned towards the small fireplace and saw, amid the ashes and green flames, the cool, sophisticated, and irate head of 26-year-old Lucius Malfoy. Peter blinked a few times, thinking he was delusional, when the head spoke again.

"Pettigrew, have you made your decision? The Dark Lord does not like to wait," Malfoy commanded. "And know that the sooner you make your decision, the less, ahh…pain, you will feel," he drawled with a smirk. Peter still sat there, silent as ever, trying to comprehend what his mentor of a sort was saying. "You can bring about their comeuppance, you know," he added, in an all-knowing, cold voice. "The Dark Lord will reward those who aid him."

Peter stayed silent but for a moment. A burning desire to make people know him for him, to make his friends wish they had paid better attention, to make James and Lily and Remus and Sirius feel bad for brushing him off all those years- a deep, abiding hatred coursed through his veins. "I'll do it. As soon as he wants. I dedicate myself fully," he declared.

 My best friend has a perfect life and I
Live vicariously through the magic eye
And I know that I've never known a life
Where everyone's got perfect teeth and hair
Selling everything from sex to underwear
I wonder what its like to have it all
To be a part of the In Crowd

1981

The next few months, Peter seemed to virtually disappear. He sank into the Dark Lord's service as if it were quicksand, ignoring his former friends.

One quiet evening, Peter sat in his flat kitchen, eating a small, plain, solitary dinner. The purply-blue sky was visible through the window on the opposite wall, a dusky light coming through the window, the small pinpricks of stars becoming visible. He raised a forkful of food to his mouth, suddenly struck by thoughts of his friends. He wondered how everyone was, how baby Potter was, and was overcome by melancholy.

The swish of a cloak caused Peter to jump and turn around, and greet a shadowy figure. "M-my Lord," he said, bowing down.

"You have been thinking of those friends of yours again, Pettigrew," the figure said in a high, cold voice.

"O-only how good my life is without them-"

"Don't lie to me, Pettigrew. It's a futile act. However, I shall forgive you this time. I have a task for you- it's time to prove your faithfulness to me," the cloaked man interrupted.

"Anything, anything my Lord," replied Peter, his voice shaking slightly.

"I want you to enter into the service of that fool Dumbledore. His vain resistance group- I want you to join it. Become a spy for me, Pettigrew, and you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams."

Peter knocked on the cottage door in Godric's Hollow.

"Yes?" called a harried voice from within the house.

"It-it's me. Peter," he called back.

"Peter!" the door opened and a blur of red hurtled itself at him, hugging him tightly around the neck. "Oh, Peter, we've been worried sick about you!" Lily squealed.

James walked into the hall to see what the commotion was, a small boy crawling along at his feet. "Wormtail, old friend, come in!" He was ushered into the cottage, and onto the pristine, yet much-lived-in couch in a sunny sitting room, a glass of water thrust into his hand. He felt somewhat out of place in this loving family; he watched as a young Harry crawled after a tabby cat, gurgling with joy, and only barely heard the exited chatter of Lily, the deep rumble of James' voice behind her, massaging her shoulders. They haven't asked a question at all- they haven't wondered at all where I've been the last year… Hopefully my doing this can save them …  Peter wondered.

Peter stayed mostly with the Potter's, immersing himself in the Order of the Phoenix. Once in a while he would steal back to Voldemort, tell him of the latest news and such. But he found such happiness with his friends in the Order that for once he wished he had never entered Voldemort's services. He was envious of their tight-knit, family-like relationship, despite the dangers of the Dark Arts that lurked just outside their blissful world. He sat on the sidelines again, watching as Harry had his first step, his first word, his first accidental magic- and for once, he was almost glad to be on the sidelines. Granted, his greatest entertainment came from the stories he heard from Sirius and James about fighting Voldemort's supporters, while Peter stayed mostly in the cottage, "manning the fort". But living through his friends wasn't so bad, after all… it would make things much simpler later on, for he knew that the Dark Lord would make him act soon…

The crisp, clear morning of October 24, Peter awoke and went downstairs from his semi-permanent housing in the guest room of the Potter's cottage. He sat at the scrubbed wooden table, yawning widely, his mouth watering at the smell of freshly cooked pancakes that Lily was frying at the stove.

"Wormtail, we need to talk to you," James said seriously, appearing in the doorway. Peter's pulse began to race, his heart leapt into his throat- Have they found out about my work for the Dark Lord? He sat down at the table, next to a pair of twinkling blue eyes and white hair, the before-unnoticed form of Dumbledore. Lily joined them.

"We know that Voldemort's after us, and Harry," Lily said, sounding on the verge of tears.

"I am going to perform the Fidelius Charm on the Potters," Dumbledore said. He explained the point of the spell to appease the confusion that appeared on Peter's face. "And James and Lily have decided they want you as their Secret Keeper."

"I-I-I'm honored," stuttered Peter. "But, but don't you want to use Sirius?"

"No, Peter, we want to use you," James said, a smile on his face. Harry toddled over and wrapped his pudgy arms around Peter's leg.

"So that's that," Dumbledore replied, eyes alight with happiness.

Peter bid farewell to the family and apparated to his flat, barring himself inside. By agreeing to be their Secret Keeper, he had just signed either his or their, or both, death warrants. He stayed holed up in his tiny apartment for almost a week, living off his stored food, not contacting anyone, no matter how painfully lonely he became.

But his loneliness was painfully lifted a week later, when the shadowy, cloaked figure re-appeared at Peter's tableside. "I had thought for a moment there you were avoiding me, Pettigrew," the familiar stingingly-cold voice said.

"N-n-no, Master…w-w-would never dream of it," he said, immediately bowing down.

"And is there something you have to tell me, Pettigrew?" he inquired, a note of perverse excitement noticeable in the figure's voice.

Peter inhaled deeply and quickly. I will not tell him- I will protect my friends  he told himself. But the Dark Lord was lifting his wand towards defenseless Peter. His weak will broke in his own self-interest. "The Potter's are hiding in their cottage in Godric's Hollow. They had made me their Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm," he whimpered, a solitary tear sliding down his face. And I've come undone…