A/N: Blahhhh why is Peter so difficult to write about? I hope this gives a little insight into where I'm going with him.

missalex3030: Thank you so much for reviewing! And not at all! I love the longer reviews. It really touches me when people take the time to comment on the specific things they enjoy or don't find convincing, as it helps me understand what I'm doing well and can improve on. I really appreciate how thoughtful your messages are. Thank you so much again!

dearmaggie: Thank you SO MUCH for the constructive criticism. You really hit a lot of points I'd been concerned about, and it's helped me reconsider some things. I was also worried about the heaviness of the story so I took your advice and quickly penned out a lighter chapter to see how it felt, and it really elevated it all, despite my initial worries about it coming across as filler. Also, Peter is a character that I find really difficult to approach but is totally necessary - you're definitely right. This chapter is coincidentally the start of my touching upon his story, but I really have a hard time fleshing him out. Why is he so difficult to write about? Ugh, anyway, let me know how you receive my interpretation of him b/c I am SCURRED.

WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!

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Chapter 12: Of a Coward's Despair

Peter Pettigrew was not a brave man, and he was painfully aware of it. For years, he had despaired over his placement in Gryffindor when all of his mates and peers seemed to belong there. His parents had both been in Hufflepuff and he'd accepted that he would also be placed there, but as he stood in the Great Hall on that first day at Hogwarts, he was struck by the enormity of the castle and the magnetic whispers coming from a trio of his dark-haired peers. When he saw the handsome Sirius Black and pretty Rowan Delacroix placed into Gryffindor, he found himself dazedly wishing to also join that table of cheering students. They were so much livelier, so much more glamorous than the house next to them, and before he knew it, the Sorting Hat had announced to the Great Hall that he would be joining them.

He had been horrified to say the least that the hat had read his most inner desires, but as he took a seat next to Sirius Black and saw the bright smile of the dark-haired girl across from him, he knew he'd never been happier.

But as they'd grown, his three mates seemed to surpass him at every feat. They were all handsome, tall and popular, and he felt increasingly shabby next to them, round and plain. He was certainly no scholar nor an athlete, and though he did well in school, he knew it was due greatly to Remus Lupin's tutoring and assistance. Even his Animagus form was unimpressive.

He wasn't a bitter man, however. He knew his place would always be to support his more impressive friends, and as he watched them each move on to pursue great careers and relationships with the most beautiful girls in their year, he felt no spite or anger, just longing.

Peter didn't join the Order of the Phoenix because he was filled with any righteous indignation or belief in a cause. He joined for the same reasons he joined anything - his mates did. But for the year and a half that he'd been with the Order, he berated himself for being too afraid to just walk away, to know his own limitations. His friends wouldn't think any less of him, and it would give his poor mother one less thing to worry about, but for some reason, every time he opened his mouth at an Order meeting to announce his decision to quit, his throat ran dry.

But as he sat by the hospital bedside of Rowan Delacroix, the terror that had floated in the back of his mind for so long suddenly became very real.

It had been two days since their terrible mission with the Bones family, and he had woken each night since with cold sweats and terror in his bones at the memories of the green flames. He still saw Rowan thrashing on the ground, and the smell of charred skin met his nose. Her screams had knocked the breath out of his lungs. They were disembodied, otherworldly, and as he saw Remus run forward, his voice shouting out every protective spell he could think of, the world around him seemed to suck into a void. He barely remembered anything else after that.

He gazed at the young woman in front of him and was sickened again at how disgusted and afraid he was. He had seen her arm and shoulder when they finally put the flames out. Her skin had been raw and red, and he saw where her robes had been cooked into her very flesh. He had vomited into the grass at the smell and sight of the burning skin with great shame and felt extremely helpless as he watched Remus and Lily Disapparate for St. Mungo's with her limp body. After they had gone, he pathetically watched the other members of the protection teams emerge from the woods and couldn't find his voice. Mina had been the one to tell them what had happened - he had been too afraid to speak.

Rowan's arm was now bandaged in clean white gauze, and he felt grateful that he could no longer see the screaming red burns. The room was painfully white, and he felt dirty sitting in it. It had taken all of his courage to even come to see her, and he was thankful that she was asleep - he wasn't sure how he'd be able to face her after all that had happened if she'd been awake.

Even injured though, she was very beautiful, he noted. He had caught himself several times looking at his mates' girlfriends over the years with awe and often wondered what it would be like to make love to such a beautiful woman. Lily was almost ethereal with her thick red hair and pale skin, but Mina, in particular, was extremely attractive to him, with her graceful gestures and sultry voice. She was quietly powerful, and he marveled at the impressive spectacle that she was, standing next to the darkly handsome Sirius. She sometimes frightened him with the intensity of her gaze and quiet conviction.

But Rowan held a different place in his heart. She had always been the most aware of him, whereas the other two women had often just included him because of his association with the other three Marauders, though he didn't take it personally. Rowan was like a bouncing spark in the darkness of battle and getting to know her was almost like getting to know James, just through her mannerisms and stories. He was surprisingly comforted by her silly anecdotes and easy countenance with great pleasure and was always filled with warmth under her kind gaze. He thought that it made perfect sense for someone like her to be with someone like Remus, who was gentle and kind and intelligent. When he saw them together, he was filled with a vague envy that he might never find that kind of love.

Peter sat quietly in the white room with her and gazed at her face with guilt. She was so still. It was frightening. She should be moving, turning about the room with her usual whimsy. He always associated her with cheeky laughter, and the pained expression on her face - even asleep - was deeply unsettling.

His chest constricted painfully. He had barely been a participant in the war, taking on the less dangerous roles and allowing his friends to fight the big battles for him. Rowan had always charged into battle without hesitation, and now her arm would never be the same. Would she keep fighting after this? Could he keep fighting after this? He felt the nausea hit him again.

He wanted more than anything to run and hide. His throat clenched painfully and he bowed his head with shame. How could he even think of running? He knew somehow that Rowan wouldn't quit, even after this, and he was sickened by his own cowardice. His hands trembled as the green fire and Rowan's screaming flashed through his mind's eye again. He had to choke back the sob that threatened to burst through - he wanted to run!

Suddenly, he heard movement and jerked up, straightening his face in time to see Remus enter the room. Remus' face contorted angrily at the sight of him for a moment before awkwardly straightening back out. Peter trembled - could Remus hear all of the shameful thoughts in his head? He felt his stomach lurch at the idea. Would he look down on him if he knew how much of a coward he was?

"Wormy," he said curtly, "What're you doing here?"

Peter flinched at the cold tone of his voice. Wormy - he'd never considered how appropriate his nickname was. He truly was a worm, spineless, useless. It suddenly seemed very fitting.

"I wanted to see Rowan," he said weakly. "She's... I was worried."

Remus nodded and turned to look at the girl in the bed next to him. Peter saw his face wash over with grief and felt even more ashamed. How terrible could he possibly be feeling right now? And Peter had been just thinking of quitting! What kind of awful friend was he? He suddenly felt very aware of the fact that he didn't belong there, that he tainted the room with his presence. He needed to leave.

Peter leapt to his feet, grabbing his jacket from the chair and looked at Remus, who was gazing at him warily, as if measuring his worth. Peter felt very small.

"Well, I suppose I should get going then. She's safe with you, right?" he said, smiling weakly.

Remus glowered, but Peter couldn't tell if it was directed at him or not. It still made him tremble.

"I'll see you later then!" he squeaked before running out the door.

As he moved down the hallway quickly and out into the crisp October air, a wave of relief washed over him, and he suddenly wanted to vomit again. Even being in a hospital room was enough to send him into an episode of cowardice, he thought bitterly to himself. He was no Gryffindor, no brave man, and as he Disapparated for his mother's house, he felt even more ashamed.