A/N: I don't own Harry Potter
This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Assignment #4 -Healer Studies - Task #4 - Dragon Pox: Write about a problem that won't go away or be solved.
Word Count: 512
Warning: mentions of murder, canon character death, betrayal, and drinking
Peter stared out the window of the house he'd been squatting in since that night. He was terrified to leave. He knew what he'd done, knew he'd betrayed the only people who had ever seen the best in him.
The muggles that had lived here were gone. He hadn't killed them. He was pretty sure he knew who had, but it wasn't him. No, the only people he'd killed were his best friends. He sank back into the chair and grabbed the can of beer he'd found in the fridge. He drank it, grabbed another one.
He knew getting drunk wouldn't solve anything, it wouldn't change what he'd done. Maybe he should go outside, let them find him, let them punish him for his crimes. He wondered if Sirius and Remus knew, he was sure they did. He crunched the beer can with his hand, letting it fall to the floor.
Peter glanced outside. It had been two months since that night, since he'd done the worst thing in his life. He regretted it. He hated himself, hated who he had become. With a sigh, he stood, swayed a bit. Ever since he'd started living here, he'd been drinking more and more, anything to try and numb the pain.
It didn't work well enough though. And he was running out of beer. He'd have to leave at some point. He shuddered at the fact. The whole world outside seemed to close in on him if he left the house, if he took a step off the porch. Maybe this was his punishment for his deeds? Being trapped in this place like a rat in a cage. That's what he was, a rat. He was a dirty filthy rat, the lowest of the low.
The bedroom was dark as he crawled under the sheets. Another sleepless night, he was sure. He had nightmares every time he closed his eyes. Every night he saw them standing there, like ghosts haunting the night. Tonight was no different.
James stood at the foot of the bed, a disappointed look on his face.
"Wormtail, how could you?" he asked. Peter could only squeak, hiding his head under the icy blue blanket and wishing to every deity he could think of that he hadn't done it. He wished he'd never agreed to be a spy, never agreed to tell, never agreed to be a secret keeper. He cursed the day he'd met Albus Dumbledore.
"Why Peter? Why?" Lily's sweet voice asked, over and over until Peter finally woke in the morning light. He looked out the window, tears forming in his eyes. Why? He could still hear her voice in his head.
"Because I wanted to be someone," he finally admitted to the empty room. "I wanted to be something more than just James and Sirius and Remus' friend! I wanted the kind of power He offered!" Peter yelled, screaming, as he threw things around the room. He finally stopped, exhausted and wondering if, somewhere, they would hear him and maybe, just maybe against all odds, forgive him.