Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter Forty-Six: The Last Marauder
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Harry opened his eyes and saw Ginny watching him.

'Hi,' she said softly.

'Hi. How long was I asleep?'

'I'm not too sure,' she said. 'I woke up maybe ten minutes ago.'

Harry strained his neck to look around. 'D'you think anyone came in to check on us?'

'Probably not,' said Ginny. 'I really doubt anyone in my family would've come through here and left without waking me up and making me leave you alone.'

He rolled onto his side and looked at her. 'Well, leave it to me to pick the girl with six older brothers,' he said quite seriously.

'Pick? Oh, no. I don't think you picked me at all.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'So what exactly do you think happened?' he asked. She shrugged. 'No, really. I'd love to know what's going through your mind.'

Her eyes sparkled. Careful what you wish for, she thought, and even the sound of her voice echoing in his mind sounded sweeter than he'd remembered it. How had he functioned properly without their connection for as long as he had?

'When I was little,' she said, 'I heard your name and your story and I decided I wanted to meet you one day.' She smiled. 'Then I was ten. I saw you at my house and I decided that I really, really fancied you.'

'Yeah?'

'Oh, yeah. I didn't know why just then, but I guess I had good instincts. Because it's six years later and I still get butterflies when you walk into the room.'

Harry wondered if she ever felt embarrassed when she said things like that. Hearing it made him feel like such a git. He wondered if Hermione ever bothered Ron with things like that, things that were nice and loving, and he wondered if Ron ever felt completely uncomfortable.

They were blokes, though. They weren't supposed to be mushy. Were they? He wondered if there had been situations in the past where Ginny had expected certain things from him that he hadn't delivered. There must have been millions of them. Did she care? Was she unhappy? Or did she just realize that Harry wasn't good at showing that sort of stuff?

'And when I was eleven, you saved my life, and I decided you were my hero,' she continued. 'Then I was fourteen and I decided I didn't want to be that girl who was pathetically obsessed with you. So I fed Hermione some line about being over you, and then I dated Michael for the hell of it.'

'Hermione told me that, you know,' he said. 'I'll admit that I was awfully relieved.'

She smiled. 'And I don't blame you!' she said. 'The only person worse than me was Colin.'

Harry laughed. 'So? Keep talking.'

'Right – so then I was fifteen and dating Dean. He had a few flaws, but –'

'Flaws? Can you give me a few examples?' Harry asked, enjoying this now. Dean was sort of his mate, but he was Ginny's ex-boyfriend, and that automatically pushed him into the bastard category in Harry's books.

'Well, for one, he wasn't you.'

'That is an awfully big flaw,' he joked.

'It's bigger than you'd think,' she said honestly. 'And at first, I was able to … overlook his flaw. But then I started to notice that you had a habit of watching me in the Common Room at night.'

Harry felt himself blush.

'Oh, it's okay,' she said. 'I only noticed because I watched you in the Common Room, too.'

'So we're both pervy stalkers, then?'

'Guess so,' she laughed. 'I didn't really know what – if anything – was going to happen with you, but I knew it couldn't happen with Dean still kicking around. I decided to dump him. I decided I was going to make you want me. And then I decided that to do that, I would hang around you more, even though that also meant hanging around Ron and Hermione, and they both gave me a huge headache because of all that Lavender business.'

Harry grinned. Nobody knew the headaches his friends could cause better than he did. He was glad that rubbish was over. And even though Ron and Hermione still fought a ridiculous amount, it was different than before, and Harry liked it quite a bit better this way.

'My plan worked, and you fell absolutely head-over-heels in love with me. So you see, you didn't really have any choice. I made all the decisions. And I think we both know that once I decide on something, nothing can get me to change my mind.'

Harry rolled his eyes. A thought struck him, something humourous, and he suddenly wanted to share it with Ginny. 'Remember how Dean kept putting his hand on you and helping you through the portrait hole?'

'Bloody annoying,' Ginny said. 'I couldn't take it anymore.'

'Right,' he said. 'Well, actually … I was going out the portrait hole under my Invisibility Cloak one night while you were coming in and I accidentally brushed against you. I guess you thought it was Dean because I heard you yelling at him for it as I left, and the next day, Hermione said you two were broken up.' He smiled. 'Whoops,' he said innocently.

'Just as well,' she said with a smile. 'I mean, we would have had to break up eventually.'

'Why?'

'I had to end up with you, didn't I?' she asked.

'Dunno,' he said thoughtfully. 'You think you did?'

'Yeah,' she said. 'I think I did.'

'You might not end up with me though,' Harry said, knowing he would get hell for saying it, but also knowing that it was time they had it out. 'I might not –'

'Harry –'

'No,' he said, and he sensed the light, relaxed feelings of their previous conversation change into impatience and frustration and something else, something that felt an awful lot like despair. 'I'm being realistic, Ginny. I haven't got my fingers crossed under this blanket that it's going to happen. But it might. It probably will. You denying that and refusing to even consider it won't change anything.' Then, because he was still a little mad at her, he said, 'And you getting mad and hitting me won't either.'

Ginny's eyes flew to his cheek. 'I'm sorry about that,' she said. 'Really, I am. But you – you just came in and threw so many things at me at once. And you were fighting for it so hard. I just – I don't know – I …'

'Hit me?' he supplied.

She blushed. 'I shouldn't have. And I shouldn't have said what I said, either. About you wanting all of this.'

'I don't,' he said, because he could see that there was still a little bit of doubt etched on her face. He sighed. 'I can't help it. This war is what I'm about. But Gin, you – you make me want more than this. For me. And that's huge.'

'It doesn't sound that way a lot of the time,' she said.

'What do you want me to do?' he asked. 'You know I'm not like that.'

'Like what?' she demanded. She shifted away from him and got out of bed. 'Hopeful? Optimistic?'

'Well … yeah,' he said, sitting up. 'I don't look at situations and think, How can I make this better? I think, What are the ways that this can go even more wrong? And maybe that's really bad, but it's kept me alive so far.'

'But –'

'I can't pretend, not even for you. Worst case scenario isn't hypothetical anymore. It's this. This is war. Full-out war. Voldemort's got Death Eaters and Dementors and Merlin-only-knows what else. This is the absolute worst case scenario. Do you get that?'

'Yes, but –'

'It doesn't seem like you do! You say you're ready and you want to fight, but then you're back here and whispering in my ear that everything's going to be fine when it won't.'

'You don't know that it won't be,' she said accusingly.

'Just like you don't know otherwise,' he countered. He sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. 'I think …'

'What do you think?' she whispered, urging him to continue.

'I think that the chances of everyone making it out of this are a lot less than you're willing to admit. And I think you realized that a long time ago.'

Ginny cleared her throat. 'Maybe,' she said slowly, 'we should stop talking about this.'

'Maybe.'

'I should go,' she said. 'We can talk later.'

She kissed Harry's cheek and left, and he knew that there would not be another discussion. He was both pleased that he'd gotten her off of his back and worried that he'd given her even more to worry about.

But she'd started it back at The Burrow, hadn't she?

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December seemed to be warmer this time around than in the past. But maybe that was just because the stone walls of Hogwarts castle had always been so cold at night, and The Burrow was always a little too warm.

Harry kicked off his blankets and got out of bed, careful not to wake Ron. He stumbled down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. And that was when he saw it.

A movement past the window. His fingers wrapped around his wand, Harry gritted his teeth and went to the door.

He stepped outside and found nothing. Nobody. No sign of anything.

But Harry knew what he'd seen. And he knew that he wasn't going to allow it to happen. Not at The Burrow. It was unacceptable.

Something small and furry brushed past his bare foot, and Harry was ready.

There was a blue-white light, and then the tiny rat was sprouting human limbs, morphing into the impossibly disheveled form of Peter Pettigrew.

'Harry Potter,' Wormtail gasped.

'What the hell do you think you're doing here?' he demanded. 'You have no right to come back here after all you done!' His hands were on Wormtail's neck, his fingers pressing and squeezing and choking, but he couldn't stop. He wouldn't.

'H-Harry – please – h-have mercy.'

'Mercy?' Harry spat. 'Did you have mercy when you sold out my parents? When you framed Sirius? When you sliced my arm for some blood so you could bring back Voldemort?'

'I –'

'Did you have mercy when you drew your wand and killed Cedric Diggory?' he continued, not caring that Wormtail's face was bright red now. Not caring that his nasty little fingers were clawing at Harry's, begging for air. 'That's his name, you know. The boy you killed two years ago.'

He relaxed his grip then, because he wanted to hear what Wormtail had to say for himself.

'I – yes, yes, yes, yes –' Wormtail gasped. 'I know. But please. Have Mercy. Mercy.'

'I will. I promise,' Harry said. He saw Wormtail relax, and he felt a new sense of loathing course through him. 'I'll make this quick. Like you did with Cedric.'

Wormtail's eyes widened again. 'Please – no! I made a – a mistake –'

'A mistake?' repeated Harry. 'That's all it was to you?'

'I've made many mistakes – so many mistakes, Harry,' Wormtail wheezed. 'Your p-parents … I did a terrible thing.'

'You think?'

'James was the b-best friend I ever had, Harry. So – so understand and – and forgiving. Your father, he would have spared me. He w-would have forgiven me. Shown me m-mercy!'

Harry nearly screamed. Wormtail didn't get to talk about James or Sirius or anyone else.

He pushed Wormtail harder against the side of the house. His wand was at Wormtail's neck now, and it felt good there. This should have happened ages ago. Why hadn't it? Why hadn't Harry made it his top priority to find Wormtail? Who cared about bloody Horcruxes when Wormtail was still alive and doing so much damage?

'Then I guess I'm not as much like my dad as everyone says.'

'N-no, Harry, you don't want to do this.'

'Don't tell me what I don't want to do!' he yelled, and he was positive at least one of the Weasleys would hear him and come to investigate, but he couldn't even begin to care.

Wormtail had sold out his parents. It was his fault Sirius had spent over a decade in Azkaban for something he'd never done. Something he would've never even thought of doing.

He deserved to be punished. To suffer. He shouldn't get to take the coward's way out this time.

He could turn Wormtail over to the Ministry. But there were probably a ton of wizards on the inside who were working for Voldemort. And the Dementors were no longer under the Ministry's control. No matter who Harry handed him over to, Wormtail would be free within days.

'F-forgive me,' Wormtail pleaded, but there was no forgiving left in Harry for this poor excuse of a wizard. Wormtail deserved nothing. Harry owed him nothing. He wasn't one of his dad's best friends. He wasn't a true Marauder. He was worthless and despicable and a murderer. 'I can h-help you. I can tell you all about wh-what the Dark Lord is planning. I can –'

He couldn't listen anymore. His head hurt and his blood was boiling and Wormtail needed to shut up. Harry couldn't stand to hear one more word. The pressure was building and building and building, down his arm and into his itching fingertips. His wand was still there, digging right into Wormtail's throat. He felt it again, that same urge he'd felt when he'd had Draco in this position, and he could do nothing to stop himself.

'Avada Kedavra.'

It was so green, so blinding, that Harry was certain someone would wake up. He could feel the panic rising, the need to hide what he'd done. He wouldn't be able to stand it if Mr Weasley came out to see what the commotion was and saw Harry now.

But at the same time, his heart was pounding. His mind was racing. There was a feeling like nothing else coursing through his veins. It felt good. Too good to ignore. The shame was there, but it wasn't registering the way it should have. The way it probably would have before.

He backed away and went to the only person he could trust now.

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Remus awoke to someone calling his name.

Harry registered in his mind, but Remus could not come up with a logical reason for why Harry would be at Grimmauld Place in the middle of the night.

'Professor Lupin!' he heard Harry call.

Unless there was trouble at The Burrow, and Harry had escaped to Headquarters for help. But that wasn't right. If something was really happening at The Burrow, Harry wouldn't run and abandon the Weasleys. He would stay and fight. He would get himself killed.

'Professor!'

He pulled himself out of bed and ran to the doorway.

'In here!'

Harry appeared, panting and barefoot, clutching his wand. Remus feared the worst. Molly was dead. Or Arthur. Ginny?

'What is it?' he asked.

'I – I need your help,' Harry said. 'I need you to come to The Burrow with me right now. But we can't wake the Weasleys.'

'Okay,' said Remus. 'Just let me change into –'

'There's no time,' insisted Harry. 'Please?'

Something wasn't right here. Harry wasn't right. He was up to something. Or this wasn't really Harry. But could Harry be Polyjuiced? For someone who lived such a dangerous life, it was rarely Harry stuck in precarious situations lately. When would the Death Eaters have gotten the opportunity?

'Wormtail came to The Burrow,' Harry said, dropping his eyes to the floor. 'And I – I just need your help with something.'

'Peter?' Remus asked. 'You left him alone? Who's watching him? Ron?'

'Nobody's watching him,' said Harry.

Remus felt something inside of him shift. Peter couldn't get away. Not again. Not after everything he'd done to the Marauders.

Sirius and James had been the best friends anyone could ever ask for. And Peter had ruined both of their lives. He'd betrayed them all. Remus wouldn't let him slide out of his grasp one more time.

'What!' he cried. 'We have to go!' He ran back into his room and grabbed his wand. 'What were you thinking? He's going to –'

'He's not going to do anything,' Harry said stiffly.

'Not if we act quickly!' he said, rushing past Harry and toward the staircase.

'Remus,' said Harry, and suddenly something was different.

Remus stopped moving, his legs nearly buckling under the weight of the truth.

He understood that when he turned around again, he wouldn't see his best friend's son, the one who laughed and played Quidditch and carried himself just as James once had. He would see someone he didn't recognize, someone capable of awful things. And surely this was not the same child he'd held in his hands hours after his birth. This was not the boy he'd promised Lily and James he'd look after if anything was to happen to them. The one who always listened with wide eyes as Remus spoke of his parents.

'I don't – I don't know what to do with … him.'

Remus swallowed. And they returned to The Burrow in silence.

'Where is he?' Remus asked when they were finally standing in Molly's kitchen.

'Outside that door and to your left,' Harry answered.

'Go up to bed,' he said. 'I'll take care of things.'

Harry nodded. 'Thank you.'

Remus went outside and stood before Peter, almost expecting him to spring to life and make a run for it. He'd waited so long to have Peter in this position. He'd dreamt of it for years. But it didn't feel nearly as good as he'd expected. And he knew that Sirius and James were not together somewhere slapping high fives.

And with that thought, the last Marauder picked up his wand and pointed it at the remains of a wizard he'd once called a friend.

He shivered. This really was the coldest winter he could remember.

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