Peter Charles Pettigrew was born the only child of Muggle-born Gerald Pettigrew and pureblood Esther Macmillan. They fell hard and fast during their last few months of Hogwarts, and within a year Peter was born. They got married as soon as they found out, knowing that was what people in their positions were supposed to do. Her parents disapproved but couldn’t rightly turn their back on their grandson. For most of his youth, Peter was cared for by his grandparents while both his mother and father worked; he a herbologist and she a secretary for the Daily Prophet. As the years went on, Gerald became angry and resentful; he’d had to put his dreams on hold to raise a child, and he was going nowhere in life.
Each time Peter went home, he seemed to fight with his parents more and more. He stopped going home for breaks during fifth year and he avoided home for the entirety of the summer between sixth and seven year—instead, he crashed with friends for a couple weeks at a time, managing to avoid suspicion. Family had always been a sensitive subject for Peter, and he hated talking about it because he hated the pity that came with it. He moved out of the house for good shortly after completing his time at Hogwarts, and that was the last time he spoke to his mother or father. There are times where he misses his mother and has considered contacting her, but he hasn’t mustered up the courage to deal with that yet.
His relationship with his grandparents fared much better. He tried to make time to see them, at least for holidays, and it was his grandfather that helped him get his first job at Dervish & Banges. Peter has never met anyone from his father’s Muggle side of the family.
As far as he knows, there’s no sort of legacy on either side. He can’t imagine anyone named “Pettigrew” making it far in life, himself included. And the only thing the Macmillan side has managed to do is stay neutral in most conflicts.
He kept a careful eye on the other man, a hint of worry in his eyes that dissipated once Peter spoke. “Sure.” The smile returned to Leo’s features as he let go of the other’s hand, the loss of warmth not welcomed at all, and walked over to the kitchen, returning shortly with two glasses of firewhiskey. He set them on the coffee table before going back, bringing with him an entire bottle too. Just in case. “I’m predictable.” He chuckled. “But hopefully, this can make you forget that.” He added as he sat back on the couch, his glass already in his hand.
Peter wished he was a betting man, because his gut told him that Leo would be returning with firewhiskey. It was more than the older man being predictable—it was routine. They meet up, drink some firewhiskey, go deep without ever really meaning to, and (if they weren’t already in the comfort of one of their homes) find themselves retreating to bed in the wee hours of the night. It was unorthodox, that was plain to see—Leo Flint, famed musician, and Peter Pettigrew, barely functioning civilian—but it was one of the only comforts Peter allowed himself to hold onto. “Something tells me that won’t be a problem,” Peter replied, almost immediately reaching for the remaining glass. As he took a sip, he found his free hand lingering toward Leo.
“ oi pettigrew ! ” she called from where she was sitting on leo’s kitchen counter, he’d been trying to tip-toe out the front door, he must not have known she was there – the look on his face as he turned to meet her gaze was priceless, this was the part she missed most about living with leo. “ come here, sit down ! i made breakfast ! ” breakfast was sugary muggle cereal ( there was a leprechaun on the front ) and what she hoped was fresh milk. “ so, peter, right ? peter. how’ve you been ? you’re what ? eighteen ? nineteen ? i know you’re out of school, but you kind of look like an overgrown toddler – i just can’t pinpoint it. ”
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He was so close, so close to getting out without making a scene. Peter always had to duck out early in the morning to get to work on time (okay, within the realm of on time), and the last time he had spent the night at Leo’s, he’d knocked an umbrella over and it ended up causing a huge ruckus on his way out. A pretty apt metaphor for his life, but he was trying to avoid that this time. He’d gathered his coat and was in the process of putting on a shoe when he heard her voice. “Bloody fucking Merlin!” he exclaimed, a bit louder than he’d intended. “What?” It took a second for her questions to pinpoint. “Overgrown---what is that supposed to mean?”
her hand rested on the doorknob. slowly closing the door as she backed out of the room- continuing her back and forth with sirius. “water. i’m grabbing water.” she laughed, still basking. “no not whiskey, water.” she emphasized the word, shaking her head at his antics. the door clicked shut, her finally turning round. to see peter sitting on the couch. subconsciously her fingers tugged on the hem of sirius’ shirt. “oh, hi pete.” she gave a little wave. it was only a matter of time before a roommate run in.
“Oh, hi,” he repeated, taking on her inflection. He barely glanced up from his bowl of cereal, though his shit-eating grin was hard to miss. “s’all I get after all this time?” He cocked an eyebrow, finally setting his breakfast down. “Water’s over there,” Pete said, pointing towards the kitchen, though he knew she knew where it was. He was fairly certain that her and Sirius had made good use of the kitchen.
“I wish I could say this wasn’t my fourth cup for the day, trust me,” Peter mumbled, skimming over the stack of papers he held in one hand, while gesturing with the coffee cup in his other hand. It was hard to ignore the bags under his eyes, or the general aura of exhaustion that radiated from him. “Just, y’know, ‘s been a crazy month.”
1. peter began working at dervish & banges shortly after finishing up at hogwarts. mr. dervish was an old family friend and offered peter a job as a clerk. he took it, wishing to get away from home as quickly as possible. mr. dervish offered up his spare flat to peter, which he and the other boys soon moved into.
2. peter was exceptionally bad at the start, but he was nothing if not determined to prove himself to mr. dervish. he learned more from the man than he had ever learned from his own father, and wanted to make him proud. eventually he figured out what it meant to be a functioning adult, and mr. dervish began to trust peter with more responsibilities.
3. somewhere along the way, peter began to wonder if being a shopkeeper was all he was meant to be. deciding to go against everything he thought about himself, he applied to the ministry. to everyone’s surprise—especially his own—he was offered a job and started right away.
4. peter now works for the accidental magic and catastrophes department, on the accidental magic reversal squad. he figured he was always great at causing messes (whether accidental or not), so it was his turn to put that to use and clean up other messes. anyone who knew him at hogwarts has been surprised to not only see a marauder in the ministry, but someone like peter who hadn’t always shown the most magical prowess doing so well for himself.
5. peter gets along well enough with his coworkers, but they are considerably older than him and he sometimes feels as though he’s back in hogwarts, constantly trying to prove himself to people who doesn’t necessarily care if he succeeds or not. but he likes what he does, he likes being able to say he has a job and a desk and isn’t doing nothing with his life like so many had prescribed for him.
6. his desk is a mess. he claims it’s an organized mess (like the rest of his life) but it’s just a fucking wreck. papers everywhere. so many files and his drawers are stocked with folders and the occasional trinket from a particularly interesting case (his favorite is a bong that someone had tried and failed to make a portkey)
7. between the order and the ministry, he absolutely does not have the time for it... but peter still tries to stop into dervish & banges every so often to lend a helping hand. it’s the least he can do.
8. (future) as the war rages on, peter begins to feel disillusioned by the ministry and its empty promises. more and more muggle families are disappearing and dying and it feels like no one outside of the order cares. it’s hard not to believe that a lot of the cases that are handed to him were incompetent wizards trying to harm muggles. and sometimes the death eaters’ masks fly off during battle, and he sees the faces of colleagues and coworkers. what do you do when the enemy is sitting at the desk next to yours? so peter resigns. best case scenario, the upper levels of the ministry are just blissfully ignorant, and worst case—peter doesn’t want to consider the worst case scenario here. regardless, it is not an organization he believes in, and he can’t affiliate himself with it anymore.
WHERE do they live? which town? is it a flat, a big estate, a terraced house…?
A flat in Hogsmeade, shared officially by Remus and Sirius (and formerly James)
why do they live there? how come they started living there?
Peter obtained the flat from his old boss at Dervish & Banges, an old family friend who was like a father figure to Pete. Ostensibly he was tired of Peter always showing up late even though apparition is a thing, but he has a soft spot for peter (who still helps him out from time to time despite not having time for it). Additionally, it being located in Hogsmeade makes journeying to the Shrieking Shack a lot more manageable.
tell us more about the decoration of the house
Little to none. Like any of them have time or energy to decorate. Mostly just random items they’ve obtained from friends, 85% of which was just left by Dorcas.
what’s their favourite room?
Peter spend most of his limited time in his own room, but he likes the living room (if you can even call it that) because he dislikes solitude and enjoys the company
if they have close-by neighbours, what’s their relationship with them?
Probably very poor because they’re the marauders and they’re coming and going at all hours of the night, not to mention all their one night stands AND order pals stopping over.
how much time do their actually spend there?
Not a lot anymore. He used to be there a lot when he worked in Hogsmeade, but now the ministry and the order occupy most of his time.
how messy is it?
(As far as Peter’s concerned) it’s not dirty, per se. But it’s very messy. Peter is a firm believer in organized chaos. And as long as he can find his stuff, he doesn’t care.
Brian studied the younger man for several moments. “What’s wrong with you?”
Peter let out a laugh, possibly more of a cackle. He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. “That’s a loaded question if I ever heard one. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“see now anytime i’m feeling a little low, going to pop by yours.” the tease felt half-hearted, her stare straight ahead. “i think you’re meant to touch wood after a comment like that.” part of her wanted to sit in silence, let the mood hang over them both. part wandered if she asked the questions, would he tell her? her stare shifted to the side of his face.
He knocked on the floorboards, smirking up at her. “You’re always welcome.” He gnawed on his lip, questioning whether he should continue to withhold or not. He’d already made it this far, but... as much as she claimed to not want to be a part of it, she was in deep. “Was on patrol in muggle London, had a run in with one of our lovely masked friends. Knocked it off of ‘m—didn’t recognize him. Dunno what that means, but... yeah. He gave me this li’l parting gift.” He motioned to his forehead, where the wound had just patched itself up.
“Ricky, shh.” Dorcas raised one finger up, right in front of his mouth, her eyes never leaving the poor woman. “Sorry about him.” The other mumbled something about being unsure which Terrence they were talking about, clutching to her pile of files, curious eyes all over the pair. “Oh, you know, from the hit wizards. I mean, I’m all the way up here with the Patents office and we just don’t bump into each other as much, communication takes a hit, you get it, right?” Dorcas Meadowes, working a desk job for the patents office - the thought alone made her want to giggle. ‘You tell me.’ The innocent bystander seemed to have accepted it. 'Husband’s with muggle relations and ever since I moved down to the Being Division, I mean, there’s not even time for lunch.’ Her eyes finally drifted to Peter, stuck in a situation he’d most definitely didn’t ask for, and her victorious smile said it all.
Peter was trapped. Dorcas would never forgive him if he ruined one of her schemes, even as much as he hated being a part of them. But he didn’t wanna perpetuate the lie either. Where was the joy in fucking with people if you weren’t the one responsible? It sucked the fun out of it. He heaved a heavy sigh, side-eyeing Doe the entire time. “It’s really been an adjustment period, you know? Just gotta...find time to keep the spark alive.”
A boy, then.
A boy & broken mirrors
& running in the dark, always
in the dark so that no one
can see him growing.
This is the body: rememberance.
This is the soul: bones tangled
in other bones. A crown of flowers
& thorns. Echoes on quiet streets.
The soul is a boy breathing,
not for the first time, not for the last
time. Tremulous like moonlight
on lakewater. Timid as a sapling.
Yes, the boy is timid.
But the boy is alive,
& this is what matters most.
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