Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours. @ainsleyabbott
Peter Pettigrew was a broken man. He was alive; that was all that mattered, wasn’t it? That he was alive, that he would continue to have a place to live and the safety net of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord behind him? He was alive and safe, but at what cost?
James Potter had been killed. And then they’d found out. Found out about him being a Death Eater, found out about how he’d been passing information, found out that it was partially his fault. They’d sought him out, calling for his death, and Peter had thought that would be the worst of it. Those he loved, acting like he’d never meant a thing to them, like he’d never been family, and calling for his head on a stick. They wanted him dead, and didn’t care to listen to him anymore, if they ever even had before.
But losing James had caused the Death Eaters to get an advantage. Them being after Peter had left an opening. And, when Diagon Alley exploded, Sirius, Remus, and Lily, had all been murdered in the blast, along with so many other members of The Order. That hadn’t been his fault completely; Peter had gone into hiding, and the Dark Lord had commissioned another Death Eater to pretend to write a letter from Peter, asking them to meet him there. But they’d all died, thinking that it was all Peter’s doing.
Maybe it was. Maybe this was what he got, for being so desperate to survive, to live, to find someone to follow and have them keep him safe. The Order hadn’t been able to do it, but the Death Eaters had. But in his effort to worry more about keeping himself alive, he’d lost the one thing that had really mattered the most to him; the family that had chosen him at Hogwarts, and who he’d loved more than anything. He’d sacrificed love for survival.
Had they ever even loved him? Had they been real family though, or had they all along seen him as the tag-a-long who wasn’t wanted, who didn’t deserve to be a Marauder. Maybe if they’d never put up with him, they’d have been safe. Maybe if they hadn’t let him in, none of this would have happened. Maybe if they’d just let those bullies in school take care of him, get rid of him, their lives would have been a lot easier. Perhaps that’s what they’d thought in their final moments. They should have never allowed Peter Pettigrew to be around them.
Something inside Peter had broken when the news of their deaths reached him. Some naive part inside of him had hoped, had been begging, for them to give him a chance, to let him explain, to allow him to repent. Had there ever been a chance of redemption? Had there ever been a chance of them helping him, instead of condemning him to death? Or was he doomed from the start, that they’d never have tried to pull him back to the light? Maybe he was never meant to be saved. Maybe he was only meant to destroy.
And, destroy he was going to do. All that kept racing through his mind was Ainsley Abbott. How she had murdered James Potter. How it had been her spell that had hit him. How none of it would have happened, if she would have just left James alone. How this was her fault. Her fault. Her. Fault.
That was why he’d come out of hiding. Why he’d showed up at the Daily Prophet, standing out in front of the building where he knew that Ainsley worked. He was shaking, and looked a mess. He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept, and just had a look in his eyes that was clear, he wasn’t fully there anymore. Pushing the doors open, he made his way through the hall, knowing exactly where her desk was. He’d planned this, over and over in his head, and now it was time.
Ainsley looked up as he approached, and he couldn’t read the expression on her face. Shock to see him alive? Fear at seeing how much of a mess he was? Pity at knowing what had happened? His mind couldn’t figure it out, and it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered now, was doing what he’d come here to do. “Peter--” She’d started to speak, but he wasn’t going to let her.
“Murderer!” His voice cracked, weak from months of disuse, sounding off-kilter like his look. He saw her going for her wand, but he was faster; “Crucio!” He snarled out then, voice sounding unlike himself; damaged, dangerous, and full of a fury and rage that he’d never shown before. This was the voice of a man who’d lost himself completely; and Peter had, because once he’d realized all of his friends were gone and he was left alive and alone, what was there for him anymore?
There were people running, and he knew he didn’t have time anymore. He moved closer to Ainsley, grabbing her by her shirt, wanting to look her in the eye as he did this. She was struggling, in so much pain still from the curse, trying to get to her wand, to try and get away from him, to free herself and fight. “This is for them,” He snarled out at her, pointing his wand directly at her chest, and then whispering out the spell that she had used on James.
He watched as the light quickly drained from her eyes after the impact of the spell... and then he laughed. He laughed, and laughed, still holding onto her shirt as her body hung limply from his hand. He laughed even as other wix appeared, disarming him and moving to arrest him. He laughed, because it was over. Everything was over, and nothing mattered anymore. Peter Pettigrew had been completely and utterly lost.