weep little lion man

Peter Pettigrew You'll never settle any of your scores Your grace is wasted in your face

[the-rat-tail]

Old Suspicions | Peter & Evan

[the-rat-tail]

weepnotforsin:

When Evan Apparated to Diagon Alley, he had only expected to pick up his dry cleaning from Symkyn and Sons and maybe buy a magical tabloid or two. However, what he discovered in Diagon Alley was something much more concerning than what witch did what and what wizard was dating who - it was Peter Pettigrew.

Pettigrew was one of the very few people who had some idea of what Evan had done under the Dark Lord and out of those very few people, he was the only one whose agenda was still unknown. That made him dangerous. It also made him a liability - not only for Evan but for a multitude of Death Eaters. Of course, there were some Death Eaters that Evan would love nothing more than to see fall. Nonetheless, there were some that were too important, too close to Evan. These were the Lestranges. The Blacks. The Malfoys. They could not fall, for if they did, Evan would surely follow.

Peter must have noticed Evan staring, as the younger man quickly turned away. But Evan couldn’t just let him walk away now, could he? With a swift Apparation, Evan had closed the gap between then - he was only an arm’s length away from Peter. Thankful that the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley had covered up the Apparation’s distinct sound, Evan chose that moment to reach out and grab the other man’s shoulder.

"Peter," he greeted warmly, though the firm pressure on Pettigrew’s shoulder told a different story, "How nice to see you again. You saw me, right? Across the street. And you didn’t even bother to say hello. That hurts, you know."

Peter stiffed the moment he felt a hand on his shoulder. Surely it was Evan's and surely Peter would not be able to make a quick escape now. This was what he got for leaving the house - it certainly was a warning for the next time. Now, not only did he have to worry about being questioned by various Order members, but being killed by Death Eaters. Terrific.

He turned around and tried to keep his voice as even as possible when he spoke. "I wasn't sure you'd remember me," he lied. They both knew that Peter had just been avoiding Evan, but this excuse was much more polite.

Evan was a well-known certified rich boy and Peter was sure attention would be drawn to the two of them just because of who the Rosier's were. Not to mention, Evan's... personal exploits were often rumored amongst high society and Peter didn't want to be one of those rumors. He gestured to the people of Diagon Alley around them, some glancing at the pair of them as they passed. Their eyes on Peter made him squirm.

"And, if you did recognize me, I figured you wouldn't want to be seen in public with a man who just got done with trial. I was thinking of you, Evan." 

[the-rat-tail]

No Light | Peter & Remus

[readysteadyremus]

Remus had woken up that morning in a rather decent mood. He had worked for a time, made a cup of tea, set about some light housework, and had gone to market. In the grand scheme of the way his days went now, it had been shaping up to be successful. 

It was really only a matter of time. Despite how thoroughly Remus had convinced himself that he was never going to lay eyes on Peter Pettigrew for the rest of his miserable existence, the cosmos did seem to particularly enjoy the tragic hilarity of Remus’ life. He hadn’t expected it to be so soon, though, nor nearly so abrupt. Perhaps one of them would write a formal letter, declaring intent. Then there would be an RSVP. ‘I formally request your attendance to my apology, please no +1s.’ 

He really should have expected this, though. He should have just locked himself in his house and never left. As it was, Remus secured his shopping bag and looked down into the face of Peter Pettigrew and did not swear. Something tight settled into his chest, though, and he found himself thinking, unbidden, of the Potter family.

"Peter," he finally said, amazed at the even keel of his own voice. "How—" He cleared his throat. Perhaps asking after Peter’s health was not the best idea. "Hello."

Well done, Remus. Truly spectacular. They’ll write books dedicated to your wit.

[the-rat-tail]

Though Remus' voice was steady and, despite everything, much kinder than expected, Peter took another step back as if his body was telling him the other man didn't want him around. Tripping on the uneven sidewalk of London, Peter fell backwards, barely catching himself before hitting the ground. His reflexes had never been like James'. His cleared his throat, trying to push down the nervousness and embarrassment that came with seeing Remus. "Hello," he said, his voice hoarse and much less even than his old friend's.

"I've - I've been meaning to come by, but -" I'm sure you don't want me there. "I thought I'd give you some time," he said instead.

He looked around at the shoppers and business people walking around them, having no idea that they were witnessing one of the most important moments of Peter's life. This was the moment where he finally knew if all hope was lost. If Remus would never forgive him. If Sirius had gotten to Remus first.

"Do - do you want to go somewhere... else? Not in the middle of all these people, I mean." He should've blurted out that he was sorry - for ruining Remus' life in the worst way possible. But the words wouldn't come out. Perhaps Peter shouldn't have suggested a more remote location for their meeting. At least Remus couldn't murder him here.

But he wanted to talk. And this wasn't the place to do so.

[daily-dehaan]

[bartxmius-deactivated20150831]

███▌▌♛ Dewdrop Lilies │ Dorcas & Peter

The pollen of winter lilies tickles her nose with each light breeze grazing the petals, giving a sense of life to the beautiful but slowly wilting flowers. It’s barely breaking into dawn, light and temperature low enough to leave dew clinging to the tips of each plants and the polished surface of mournfully engraved stone. She shouldn’t be here, it was a foolish idea. Logically there is no point to visiting the dead, not like this, never like this. They are long gone.

It’s one stone but two lost souls, her dark eyes staring but not truly seeing. Looking for something but not being able to find what she truly wants. The thick woollen hood of her jumper is pulled up to shadow each imperfect aspect and tired line of her features; cracked lips, red rimmed eyes and the ashen complexion of her cheeks.There are tremors breaking across her skin, chills running across its surface to leave her within a constant series of shivers; every movement is a reassurance that she is not crafted from the stone she sees her heart to be encased.

There are no sobs tearing through her lungs, but silent tears freezing upon her cold flushed cheeks.

[the-rat-tail]

It was stupid, but Peter didn't want to avoid it any longer. He had to go see Lily, James, and Harry's graves. He had to see the damage he'd caused - for all of his friends. Peter had never denied to himself what he'd done, but he'd never seen the bodies - attended the funerals - or even seen the headstones. It was almost as if it was a distant memory or dream. He knew it had happened and had visualized it almost every night, but now he needed proof. Proof of his utter stupidity. Proof that he never should've believed his friend was indestructible.

He was surprised to see that he wasn't the only one, though he shouldn't have been. James and Lily had always been popular - and their deaths had been the marker for the end of the war. Of course others wanted to see where they were laid to rest and to pay their respects. Peter should've known, but it didn't make it any less difficult to wrap his mind around. He'd always pictured being alone for this.

Deciding to come back later and do it right, Peter made to turn around before recognizing the face of the other woman in front of the graves. It was a face he knew well - they'd been friends, during the war - but someone he hadn't thought about in ages. Without even really thinking, he called out her name quietly, "Dorcas?"

Immediately after it left his mouth, he felt like kicking himself. This wasn't old times and Dorcas surely wouldn't want to see him. "Sorry! I'll - I'll just let you..." Peter looked past her and at the graves. "Get back to it," he finished lamely.

[the-rat-tail]

No Light | Peter & Remus

Peter had gotten off work late again. Not that his job could ever really be considered a nine to five, considering he often had to wake up at all times of the night to retrieve random bodies from random homes. But he was working at the office today and was supposed to have left over an hour ago. And, if his boss hadn't been such an incredible wench, he might have made it out on time and before the rush hour.

It was during the crowded times like this when Peter missed his recluse nature the most. While he'd missed his old life incredibly, he had grown accustomed to low amounts of traffic and rarely running into people he knew. Now, every time he stepped out of his house, it seemed like he was catching the eye of people he recognized. It was the reason he didn't venture out very often, unless for a quick shopping trip or to go to work, but even then he planned his time accordingly. Which meant no unwelcome visits from Order members (once, his friends) or people who would try to kill him. Though he did have that rather unpleasant meeting with Evan, Peter still felt like the Death Eater wasn't about to come after him anytime soon.

Which was why, still decked in Ministry robes, Peter hoped to get home as soon as possible. He didn't need another strange visit with Death Eaters he knew (or didn't know, but suspected) and he certainly wasn't ready for any Order member. Not after what he'd done to Lily and James. He was, most likely, the most perpetually hated within that group of people. So when he bumped into someone while trying to navigate through the crowd, he hoped to Merlin it wasn't someone he knew. 

And it was worse than that.

"Mo -" Peter stopped himself. That nickname wasn't welcome anymore. He took a step back, shaking his head involuntarily. "No - I... Remus?"

Remus Lupin looked older, but still rather familiar. His robes were a bit more tattered than before, though Remus had always carried around ones with patches, and his hair was darker. New scars littered his face and it almost made Peter want to run away. There had been a time that Marauders were aware of every scratch, scar, or injury the others had acquired during their various activities.

Only a month back and Peter already had to deal with this. He was hoping to avoid Remus for longer, but it wasn't as if he could run away forever. Not now that Sirius was back out and the two of them were probably chums again. Drinking firewhiskey and cursing Peter's name. The thought made bile rise up in Peter's throat, but he pushed it back down.

"Remus," he said again, if only to remind himself that it was really happening.

[the-rat-tail]

Old Suspicions | Peter & Evan

Had the cleansing charm worn off? It was something Peter couldn’t help but think as he walked down the streets of Diagon Alley. Normally, the smell of dead person easily wore off once the preservation charms were placed and the cleansing ones were performed, but this guy had had a particularly distinct smell. It was something Peter never worried about before – even if a person recognized the smell, people died during the war every day. Now that people thought he was a murderer (he technically was, he reminded himself), Peter was much more self-conscious about it than he ever had been before. The smell of dead body on his clothes would certainly start up the rumors and Peter wasn’t eager for another mind-numbing trial. He hadn’t even seen Sirius or Remus yet and it wasn’t like they didn’t know he’d been dismissed – it had been the headline of the Prophet for weeks.

He wouldn’t have even been out and about if it hadn’t been for his bloody parchment running out. For the most part, Peter tended to race home at the end of the work day in effort to avoid anyone who may have known him before. He knew he’d have to face his demons eventually, but no amount of planning would ever make him ready for that day. Instead, smoking Muggle cigarettes and listening to music loud enough to drown out the sounds in his head seemed like the preferred activity of every day.

And, when he saw Evan Rosier down the other side of the street, Peter wished he’d done just that. The Order hadn’t really come looking for him yet – after all, he was a traitor in their eyes – but they would eventually if they thought he was affiliated with the Death Eaters in any way. Peter wasn’t looking forward for the old Death Eaters he remembered from the few weeks of meetings he’d attended. They could kill him easily (especially if he didn’t have anyone around to help him out, which seemed like the most likely option these days) and Peter had killed twelve Muggles to stay alive. Death wasn’t something he was quite ready for, even if it might be more welcome than his current life.

Turning around abruptly, he could only hope Evan didn't spot him before he could get to a good Floo network.

[cavallisis]

[the-rat-tail]

At the End of the Road | Para Sample

It was the worst time of the day: falling asleep. It was then that Peter saw James more than any other day. James, patting him on the back or laughing at the songs Peter liked to sing. Lily, giving him a wink when Sirius cracked a joke at his expense. Harry – damn… Harry. They’d lived for that little boy and Peter had fucked it all up. He knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it now, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten about it. So many other scenarios had run through his mind since then. So many things he should’ve noticed; should’ve known. James would’ve known. Sirius and Remus would’ve seen them. But Peter had never been as bright as them and entirely too trusting. How could he have known that James would die?

He didn’t have his wand, came the voice in Peter’s head, always hell-bent on kicking him where it hurts. James didn’t have a wand. Lily held Harry as they died. James wasn’t as invincible as he’d always seemed in Peter’s mind. None of them were. He ran a hand across his hand as he laid on the hard ground of the cottage. There was no need for furniture. Not when he wouldn’t be staying for more than a week. This place was entirely too close to home, but Peter had to crash somewhere for the night. It was a full moon and Peter knew better than anyone how dangerous travelling at night could be during a time like this.

The ring finger on his left hand stung and he rolled his eyes. It’d been two years and still the damn thing pretended like it hadn’t been cut off. Phantom limb, he’d read somewhere after he’d fled, tucked away in the corner of the library with his hair long and hat on. It was funny to think about – his hand wanted the finger back. Peter just wanted his old life back. Why he’d cut off that particular finger, Peter hadn’t known. It was just something that came without thinking and his subconsciously must’ve been telling him he’d never need that finger. Nobody would ever marry him. Peter’s righthand was closest thing he’d gotten to a sexual experience in years.

He’d was so deep in thought at the idea of marriage and friends – a normal ­life – that he’d nearly missed the loud BANG that came from the front door. With a swiftness that could only be taught by James and Sirius, Peter pulled his wand and aimed at the door. Outside were several Order members, pointing their own wands towards Peter’s heart. Dropping it, he sighed and put his hands up.

“Better take me quick,” Peter said. “It’s a full moon tonight.”

[secretsandothermaladies-blog]

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