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Peter is pretty sure he’s dead. He remembers being at Malfoy Manor. He remembers walking down the steps to where Harry and the others were. And he remembers the throbbing pain before shutting his eyes.
He also seemed to remember someone long ago telling him nothing happened after he died. That it all went black and that was it. Yet he was here. In a foggy nowhere of blinding light, leaning against the only solid thing in sight,a tree, blurred around the edges, supported his back.
Peter’s gaze traced around and yet-nothing, nothing around him and nothing in him. His mind felt so weightless and he wondered if his body was truly there. He felt like he was floating somewhere that existed only to him.
He looked at his hands, they were both there. No scratches or grime or broken nails. Perhaps he was young again. Perhaps his younger self had dragged him back to the border of time to restart. To not make the decisions he did.
Oh well. It was strange, he still felt bad but the mind numbing burden of guilt that had plagued him since fifth year was no longer there. He didn’t care. In fact Peter didn't much of anything. He had a feeling nothing was wrong anymore. Everything was ok.
—-
Peter was young again. Younger this time, he could tell.
Things still felt foggy but rather than the edges drifting it was like he was watching events happen through a film. He saw what was going on through his eyes yet he wasn’t in his body.
Around him were rolling green hills and young children were running about.
‘Peter!’ A voice giggled. It sounded far away, airy.
He turned around to greet the voice.
James.
‘Peter! Come onnn!’ James whined and gestured wildly for Peter to walk over. He did. He stumbled a bit and had to balance himself out with his hands but he reached the other boy and the two grasped each other's hands.
The air was humid, it must’ve been July. Somewhere off to the right a house stood. It was large and had cream walls. Peter knew he spent many afternoons there, laying by the air conditioner with a panting friend and trying to lick the drops of melting popsicles that slid down his chin.
‘Hey! Peter!’ James yell whispered.
‘What’ Peter yell whispered back.
‘My Dad is taking me to see my first quidditch game soon!’
‘Really’ Peter’s voice squeaked out.
‘Yeah! Do you wannta come?’
‘Yeah! Your Dad wouldn’t mind?”
James shook his head “Mh m, nope! He asked me to invite you and if your dad wants to come my dad says he can!’
Peter smiled widely just before James tapped his shoulder, yelled tag and ran off. He only giggled in response before running after him.
——
“Hello?” An airy voice brought Peter back to the spaceless void. He looked up and saw a young woman wandering around.
A young woman in a summer dress. A young woman with bouncy curls. Mary.
Peter couldn’t find his voice, it was lost somewhere amongst the nothingness.
Suddenly Mary turned around. Her face looked dreamy and she had a far off look in her eyes.
“Hello.”
Was she dead too?
“H- hi.” He managed. They both stayed where they were. Staring. No emotions crossed either face.
Mary walked over and stared down at the seated man.
“Where are we?” She asked.
“Dead.” Peter said.
“No. I am not dead.” Was all she replied.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. I don’t know… I don’t know where we are. Perhaps nowhere”
“Yes I think you are right Peter.”
Peter's eyes widened. He had known - well heard- Mary Macdonald had obliviated herself. It wasn’t news enough to make The Prophet but being a rat had given him the gift of finding out secrets no one else could. He could still hear Dumbledore's voice as he explained it to Remus. He still remembered the heavy silence that followed and he could still feel the tears that fell down his face later that night.
“I’m dead, so I am nowhere but if you aren’t dead, why are you nowhere?” He asked.
“Well, I must be partly dead. I must be somewhere between dead and living.” She said it firmly like she knew it was the truth.
“You know who I am.”
Mary looked at him and nodded.
“You aren’t yelling.”
She nodded again.
“Sit?” His voice was unsure and he spoke. Would Mary even want to sit next to him? Next to a traitor. Next the meteor that destroyed their lives?
She swayed for a moment before sitting down and folding her legs to the side. And there they sat. Looking around into nothing.
“I’ve been here for a while.” Mary’s confession broke the silence.
Peter turned to look at her. She was just looking out and for some reason Peter thought she saw something out there.
“How long?” He questioned.
“Since I forgot everything, I think it killed a part of me. So I’m here waiting for my body to follow.”
“Oh. Then will you be dead? Will it all go black ?”
“No. I don’t know.”
“Oh.” Peter stared at his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry.”
“It's ok.”
“No I’m sorry for,” Peter hesitated and looked out upon the blank canvas of nothing, he sighed “everything”
Mary smiled. “I know.”
Peter stared out just as Mary did, unsure of what to do.
“It's ok, it will all be ok.
He listened to the words Mary spoke and yet somehow could not comprehend them. It was as if she were speaking a language he had never heard before. One yet unspoken by man.
“I can not blame you for the cards the world dealt you. You did your best, I know you did.” She slid on to her knees and cupped his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Life was far too cruel to you.” She frowned. Mary leaned in and surrounded Peter with her arms. She squeezed him and yet her body felt far away. He felt as she disappeared. One moment she was close and the next, she was gone.
Peter leaned back upon the tree. He sighed and closed his eyes once more.
Peace consumed him.
—
He’s young again. Older though. Thirteen maybe.
He’s mad about something. Someone. Something someone did.
James. Sirius. Kissing.
He knows it wasn’t romantic. He knows how they are. He knows.
Why does he care? Merlin, what is it to him? His best friend, whose best friend isn’t him, kissed his best friend.
Why did he run out as soon as he saw them? Why did he ignore James calling out after him and Remus’ concerns when he spotted him rushing out of the common room? Why was he jealous?
All these questions plagued his mind. Deep down he knew the answers. He wouldn’t admit them to himself yet.
Maybe that's why he's now walking the dark alleyways of Hogsmeade. He snuck out. He never sneaks out alone.
Peter strangles the card in his hand. He tries to twist it but it resists. It is a chocolate frog card. The one James gave him because he knew it was the last one he needed to complete his collection.
Tears prick his eyes and an awful, painful, feeling chokes his throat. He wants to cry. He always cries.
‘Pete stop being such a crybaby’ Someone mocks.
‘Sirius leave him alone’ James defends. He looks down to Peter. Peter smiles shyly.
Lost in his thoughts Peter bumps into someone.
‘Oh!’ He squeaks, ‘Sorry- I didn’t mean to.’ He looks up to see who it was.
A cruel smile is what Peter sees. Fangs parting the grin and harrowing eyes to match.
‘Watch out little boy.’ The voice is scratchy and mean and Peter is scared. He closes in on himself, trying to look smaller.
A bony finger reaches up and pushes itself under Peter’s chin. ‘World’s gettin scary, wouldn’t want to run into trouble.’ The smirk widens and Peter swears he will never leave the castle alone again. He hopes he never sees the shady man ever again.
But he does. And he will. He will spend his years bumping into and running from the man. He will scream and cry and yell but no one will ever notice because those noises won’t escape his lips. And he will suffer like that until fifth year when he follows the man instead. When he will follow Fenrir Greyback down a path of which there is no return.
—
He’s somewhere else or maybe he’s in the same nowhere. The tree is gone.
Peter turns around. He spots a shoreline. There is no sand, only waves coming in and out. And another girl. Marlene. He knows. He would never not know. Her back is to him and she is simply watching the waves. She's different from Mary. More there, more tangible.
Peter hesitates.
“I know you're there.” Her voice is dry, lost amongst the waves that have no sound. Peter jumps back in surprise. Marlene turns her head a little. The side of her face is barely seen but Peter walks forward as he knows Marlene was indicating for him to do.
He stands next to her.
“I fucking hate you.” She sighs. Peter isn’t surprised.
“You fucking, you destroyed everything. You killed me and then my girlfriend!” She's screaming now. And crying. She's sobbing and screaming and turning to face him finally and Peters-Peter’s not surprised.
She shoves him into the waves. He stumbles back. His trousers are splashed with water.
“I hope your life was short and awful. I hope it sucked. I hope you hated every moment you lived and every breath you took. I hope every time you transformed you felt excruciating pain. Because you fucking deserved to die. You deserved to fucking die!” And he knows she is right. He knows it every time she shoves him further into the water. He knows it when the water reaches his knees. He knows it with every fiber of his being.
He knows it when she slaps him. Right across the face.
Then she goes quiet. Her hand still raised and his face still turned from where it was hit.
Suddenly he hears something he is surprised by. Cries. Not angry ones. They're mournful.
“And you-”Marlene is trying, she’s really trying to get the words out, “you were my fucking friend since I was seven and you betrayed me.” She punctuates it by jabbing her finger into his chest.
He looks down at the finger before turning to look at her face for the first time. It’s twisted, sad, desperate.
“I missed you. And I hate you. And I hate myself for missing you.” Her hand falls to her side and her head drops down.
“I don’t know what messed up consciousness decided you got this. I don’t know why you get closure, but I’m…I’m glad. To see you again. I’m glad deep down you still loved me.” She looks up and into his eyes. She smiles sadly. He doesn’t. He just stares back. He nods. She cries some more.
He watches as she disappears, up into the air of wherever they are.
He sighs.
Peter fucking drops into the waves and sighs. He lets them wash over his body as he closes his eyes. He needs to sleep. So he lets the nothingness take him away.
—
Remus Lupin is a werewolf. Peter Pettigrew is scared. And he feels bad.
Isn’t this the whole reason his friend kept it a secret? He didn’t want people to be scared of him. Yet Peter, one of his closest friends, is scared of him.
And now James and Sirius are planning…something. What? He doesn’t know. He never does. Sure he is fun enough to play chess with and hear funny stories from but not enough to be let in on big plans apparently.
He sighs and flops back onto his bed. His curtains are drawn closed, which isn’t as suspicious as it should be because it's late enough he could be sleeping. But he isn’t. He isn’t sleeping, he is staring at the top of his bed and wishing he was someone else entirely. Someone who’s friends cared more about. Someone who wasn’t scared of their friend because he is a werewolf. Someone who isn’t him.
‘Pete?’ A hesitant voice calls out from behind the curtains.
Peter lifts his head but doesn’t move to respond.
‘Peter , are you in there?’ It’s James.
‘Yeah, I’m in here.’
A tanned hand pushes the curtain back. James stands fidgeting looking sad. Peter sits up and crosses his legs. He pats the spot in front of him. James sits down slowly, looking at Peter through his eyelashes.
‘Hey’ James trails off. Peter sits quietly.
Another moment of silence passes before James talks again.
‘I-I know I’ve been kind of ignoring you.’ Peter blinks. Does he know?
‘And it's only because me and Sirius-’ Peter frowns, ‘have been working on something we think is going to be really great!’ James' voice grows with excitement. This isn’t an apology, it's an excuse. It's fine. What would Peter even want an apology for?
‘Oh yeah?’ Peter questions. Why was he mad? James is just a little oblivious. It’s fine. Peter forgives James for his invisible wrong doings. Peter could never be mad at James for long.
‘Yeah I’ll tell you all about it!’ Peter rests his head on his knee and smiles, admiring James.
—
Sure the plan is crazy but, well if James thinks it’ll work maybe it will. Peter has snuck out of the castle alone. Again. Like he said he wouldn’t. He’s become a bit of a liar recently. Even to himself.
But he has a reason beyond clearing his mind this time. Fenrir.
To be honest, Fenrir still scares him like crazy but…well he’s been nicer. He buys Peter chocolates and listens to his troubles. He doesn’t insult Peter and he never ignores him. He's…nice? No. It's just that Fenrir is there when his friends aren’t. That's all.
‘Ah there he is.’ A voice drawls out from an alleyway. Peter turns to see the werewolfs smug grin. Fenrir steps out of the shadows and rests his arms on Peter’s shoulders. Peter gazes up at him. He’s scared again. He feels bad. Fenrir has shown him kindness and been there for him. Sure he’s a little scary looking and a werewolf but…so is Remus! Peter has no right to be scared of his new friend.
‘You kept me waiting sweetheart.’ The nickname sends a shudder down Peter’s back. It feels uncomfortable, unwelcome. The name creeps through his bones and muscles, taking root. Peter wants to yank the weeds from where they have made their home.
‘Sorry.’ He whispers.
He lets the weeds grow.
‘Come on, this way.’ Fenrir guides him back into the alleyway.
Peter doesn’t remember what happened after that. He’s pretty sure he didn’t come back out of the alleyway.
—
Walk this way signs surround Peter, pointing him in…a direction. He does know which one. It doesn’t matter.
How long had he been walking? Longer than the amount of time that earth has been around. Shorter than it takes for a second to tick past.
It’s empty. Peter feels empty, in a full way. It consumes his, the emptiness. It’s like a weight he has to lug around. He doesn’t like it. He wants to feel like he's floating again. That was nice. Back when emptiness felt like nothing. Now it's something.
“Lucky bastard.” A voice snarks.
Peter turns his head to the side to see Dorcas Meadowes.
“When I got here all my emotions crashed into me like a bullet train. And you what? Feel nothing?”
“Not anymore.”
Dorcas turns to look at him. They are still walking side by side.
“What do you feel now?” She asks.
“Empty.” Dorcas hums.
“I’ve felt empty before.” She pauses. Peter wonders. “When you killed my girlfriend.” Peter’s mind freezes. He just saw Dorcas’ girlfriend. He just saw Marlene. But she was dead. Peter did that, didn’t he? He did. Peter frowns.
“I’m sure she yelled at you.” Peter nods. “Good. I wish I could’ve killed you myself. To bad your fucking pathetic friends killed me first.”
“I don’t-”
“Why did you do it?” Dorcas stops walking and looks straight at him. Peter freezes.
“I…I just,” Why did he do it? Do what? Kill Marlene? Ruin Harry’s life? Betray his friends? “I got caught up in it all?”
Dorcas stares. She shakes her head. “No, you didn’t change sides just because you ‘got caught up in it’.”
She’s right but Peter doesn’t have another explanation.
Dorcas walks forward. Peter doesn’t follow. Peter turns to one of the signs. It doesn’t say anything. He walks towards it.
—
Weeks had gone by since Remus almost killed Severus.
The silence that filled their little group was still there, in fact it felt like that same silence had spread throughout all of Hogwarts. No one laughed loud in the Great Hall, classes were quiet, and even quidditch games felt more subdued.
The prank Sirius had enacted seemed to have affected everyone.
Peter didn’t really know what to do.
He didn’t know how to solve it or how to comfort Remus or how to talk to James any more. He was lost and unlike all the other times in which his friends would help guide him, he was completely alone.
Well…not completely.
‘Hey there sweetheart.’ The gruff voice was now familiar to Peter. Its edges and grooves had been memorized long ago.
Peter looked up at the werewolf. It was ironic if he really thought about it. The only person he found comfort in these days was the ultimate root of his problems.
If Fenrir hadn’t bitten Remus all those years ago, There would have been no secret to share, no prank to pull, no divide amongst his friends.
‘Hello.’ He was never confident when talking to Fenrir but at least now he didn’t stumble over every word.
‘It's been a while…’ Fenrir drawled out, ‘was startin’ to think you’d run away from me.’
Peter rapidly shook his head.
A rough finger traced his neck as the werewolf’s eyes looked over Peter’s face. They were hungry. Peter knew that Fenrir was always starving.
‘I know sweetheart, because you’d never leave me, would you?’ He cooed. Peter shook his head again. Fenrir’s fingers curled around Peter’s neck. ‘No, of course you wouldn’t because you know I’d find you right?’ His hand wrapped itself tighter. ‘And you know, I wouldn’t be happy.’
Peter nodded.
Fenrir grinned slowly before removing the hand that had been tightly curled around Peter’s neck and slinging an arm across his shoulders.
‘Let's go, I don’t have long.’
Peter was familiar with this routine. He wasn’t sure why he kept coming back. Beyond the threats, something kept drawing him to Fenrir and he didn’t know how to stop it. So he didn’t. He allowed himself to be dragged along. He let Fenrir take control of him and he let himself pretend it was ok. He wanted it. If he didn’t, he could stop it. But he let it happen. It was ok.
He never even let the screams escape. It was all ok.
—
‘So dear,’ Fenrir whispered in his ear, it sounded soft but Peter knew better, ‘I wanted to offer you something.’
Peter held his breath.
‘I have a friend, a friend with great ambitions. I think he would greatly value your talents.’
It was flattery, they both knew he was useless. Only valued when Fenrir was near. Maybe that's why he kept coming back, it gave him purpose.
‘With your little…rodent ability and how close you are to the other side of the war. Well,’ The grin in the voice was audible, ‘you’d be of great value to us.’
And Peter knew it wasn’t an offer. He knew he had to accept. He didn’t want to but what should he do? Say no to Fenrir, risk being hurt, lose the reason for each breath he took. Of course not. He would never betray Fenrir. Perhaps doing this would help him keep his friends out of harm's way.
‘Ok.’ His voice shrunk to the size it was when he first met the man.
‘I knew you would accept, sweetheart.’ Fenrir ducked down to Peter’s neck and started biting it.
Peter exhaled. He was scared. He didn’t want to be. To be with Fenrir. To have accepted his offer. To be where he was and who he was. But he did. And he was.
He would have to deal with it. It was a hole of his own creation.
Maybe he could dig himself back out.
—
A beach again. More there though. There was sand - though unfelt - and the waves crashing against his feet had faint sounds.
Peter sighed. He sat down. What was there to do? Would he be in this limbo forever? Tortured by his past?
He turned his head as he felt footsteps approaching.
“Hey.” Barty’s voice was airy. It sounded like he was lost for words. It made sense, words weren’t so easy here.
“Hi.” Peter didn’t know what to say. What was there to say?
Barty sat down beside him. He looked out onto the waves.
“I didn’t really plan anything to say, you know? It just never occurred to me that someday you would be here.”
“Where?” Peter knew that wasn’t what he should say but somehow it felt like the only thing he could tackle. The only thing he could talk about without disappearing like the rest of them did.
Barty smiled. It was weird. Unfamiliar and softer, not like his twisted, plotting smirk Peter had become so acquainted with.
“Somewhere.” He waved his arm out towards the waves.
They sat silently, the air less stressed than what Peter had felt with Dorcas and Marlene.
“We…” Barty started but trailed off, thinking, “we were so caught up in it all.” He sighed. “ the war and the danger and - Voldemort.” He said it resoundley but Peter could still hear the fear in his voice. “Sometimes I wonder what in the world I was thinking? It’s all swirling around in my head,” he flailed his hands around as he spoke, “regrets and reasons and memories.”
Peter nodded. “I can't stop remembering...I don't want to.” He whispered.
Barty looked at him.
“Me too. It hurts but you need to. You can break free of this Peter, just remember.”
Peter looked at him and stood up. He turned around and started walking. To where he had no idea.
“Hey!” He heard Barty call out, “Where are you going Peter?”
Peter stopped in his tracks. He turned around to face a now standing Barty.
“I don’t know.”
“Where are you going Peter?” The question felt so simple even if Peter couldn’t answer it, yet he knew Barty wasn’t just asking where Peter was walking to.
Peter didn’t know what to say.
Barty walked towards Peter. He stood there for a moment, silently.
“You don’t need to know but you need to try. Try to go somewhere, don’t let yourself just be dragged along. You more than anyone know how that goes.”
Peter nodded slowly. Barty smirked, and there it was, that exact same smile from before. This time Peter found something else beneath it. It was peaceful.
Peter smiled back. He turned his head away from Barty and looked out into the void of nowhere. Somewhere. He walked forwards.
—
He could feel something dragging him back, the invisible weight of his life long burdens of guilt. Peter was used to the feeling, it wouldn’t stop him.
“Peter.” A voice called out. It was soft and calm.
Peter looked up. Evan. Peter sighed.
“Is everyone just following me now?”
Evan shrugged as a soft smile grazed his lips. “Maybe before but you came to me.”
Peter paused. He looked past Evan and saw something in the distance. It was intangible, a mixture of colors and feeling but it was there.
Evan turned his head over his shoulder to look at what Peter saw.
Evan sighed. He looked back to Peter and walked closer to him.
“You’ve died then?”
Peter nodded.
“Well…” Evan trailed off and returned to looking at whatever was ahead.
“You outlived almost everyone.” Evan chuckled.
Peter just looked at him. They both stood in quietly. The silence hung loud in the air.
“I don’t- I’m confused.”, Peter finally admitted.
Evan looked back at him. “About what?”
Peter stared for a moment, the empty feeling felt like an all consuming pit in his stomach. Suddenly as Peter glanced at what was ahead the feeling shifted to something else, lots of something else. The experience was akin to being blasted by a thousand cruel spells, a feeling he had felt before.
Decades of emotions crashed into him all at one. Anger and joy and sadness and fear and guilt and the dirty, icky feeling he felt whenever Fenrir touched him, all racing through him at the same time.
Peter flinched back. He could feel the emotions distinguishing themselves slowly. Fear, then confusion followed by anger.
“What's going on? Where am I? And why does everyone keep coming to meet me?! I don’t want to remember!” He shouted and clenched his fists.
Evan stalled. He took a few steps forward and put his hand on Peter’s shoulder.
“I know,” Evan’s voice was soft, “but you must.” His expression turned serious.
“You can never be happy if you do not remember and accept.”
“You sound like a self-help book.”
Evan chuckled. “Peter, please.” It was a plea, “remember, come back to us.”
That statement confused Peter. Us? Who? Who would want him to come back to them? He ruined everyone he had ever met, torn their lives apart, no one would want him again.
The air behind Evan shifted, swirling around itself. Slowly corporeal figures formed, warm faces that Peter never seemed to shake from his conscious. A sharp face, eyeliner around its eyes, a face covered in scars, a red flame of hair, a bright smile that reached similarly decorated eyes, a face adorned in beauty marks and framed by glasses, plenty more were next to them.
The ensemble of his past swarmed around Evan. They floated closer to Peter. Each one took a place beside him and whispered impossible things into his ears. Secrets and promises he couldn’t make out. He could feel the nonexistent weight of their hands on his shoulders.
He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. A flood of memories in the form of whispered conversations and somehow audible thoughts passed his ears, each indistinguishable from the others.
One voice cut through the rest, it was firm and steady, a guiding hand in the storm.
Evan spoke to him with all the weight of the world “Peter, remember.”
—
Unlike all of the other times, Peter did not feel peace. It all rushed passed, both too fast to distinguish and at the same time agonizingly slow.
Peter was in a dark, slimy underground. In front of him all the faces of warmth shifted to those of cruelty. The previous feather-like touches on his shoulder disappeared, leaving only one. Peter felt as the weight became heavy, shuddering under it.
A voice crept into the space, slithering around Peter.
“Thisss, is the boy, Fenrir?” Peter blinked, looking for the face that matched the voice. As he turned his head it forcibly shoved itself downwards. Peter tried to look up from the grimy, rodent rampant floor but found he could not.
“Yes, my lord, the very one.” The hold on his shoulder tightened and Fenrir’s, Peter suspected, mouth pressed itself almost to Peter's ear, mouthing at it. “I think you will find him very useful."
A step banged against the floor and approached in the direction of Peter. He saw as a pale bare-foot crept into view.
“Really? This boy? Useful to me?”
“Of course my lord, I would never bring you a dud, he’ll do whatever you want.” Peter could hear the grin on Fenrir’s face.
“Now that is very interesting. You, boy, are you willing to betray your friends for me? Live up to your animagus? You would do anything for me? Anything I told you to do? How sweet. Why, I imagine you would drop to your knees if I told you to. Let’s test that theory, yes?” A wrinkled hand yanked on Peter’s face and shoved it up.
Suddenly before he came face to face with the voice the scene shifted. Peter was shoved backward as Barty’s lips crashed into his. The kiss was rough, no love slipped through. Peter kissed back just as harsh as he felt a hand from behind slip around his waist. He could feel Evans' mouth on his neck, softer than Barty’s lips, though just as much of a desire to consume and the same lack of love behind them.
Peter gasped and pulled back to turn around towards Evan.
The meaninglessness of the intimacy shared between them didn’t bother him. It was comforting to lose himself to the mindless touches of the two. It took away the constant pressure that banged around in his mind, distracting him from reality.
As Peter drew back from Evan, everything changed again. It was still Evan’s face, only they were outside and hiding behind a bush. Peter glanced away towards the house they were staking out, Marlene walked up towards it with a grocery bag in her hand.
“Go.” Evan’s voice urged.
Peter nodded and stood, walking out from behind the bush. He watched as Marlene opened the door, glancing back just for a moment.
“Peter?”
It took him only a moment of hesitation.
Her body twisted and dropped. As he watched her fall the world morphed itself around once more. It was a muggle's body this time.
Pete once again found himself unable to look up from the ground.
“Good job, my servant, you have proven yourself faithful to me.” The voice licked his ears and Peter shuttered.
His forearm was yanked to the side and a searing pain rushed through him. He could feel a thousand stars burning inside him and a binding loyalty formed against his will. The marks etched itself into his skin like a knife. He screamed.
The scream deepend and Peter realised it was no longer his own. Evan screamed as his heart was pierced with the killing curse. The sound carved itself into Peter's ears, resonating and filling his mind.
Peter watched for a moment as Evan fell, just like the muggle, just like Marlene. It was strange, he thought. That the now dead Evan Rosier had once breathed, talked to him, kissed him. But how could he? He was dead.
Peter thought back to moments ago, right before they were discovered by Moody. Evan had been talking about Pandora. They had just had a huge fight that had ended with Evan telling her he hated her and walking out. He told Peter how he wished Pandora had joined them, her potion skills would have been invaluable he had said.
“She’s bloody brilliant.” Evan sighed. “I remember as a kid she would mix together anything she could find and test her potions on me. I had a lot of different hair colors as a result.” He chuckled and his eyes shone with wistfulness.
Then, all Peter had been thinking was how unimportant it was at the moment, to be reminiscing about childhood during a mission. Now all Peter could think about was how Pandora would never see her brother again and how Evan’s last words to her would always be those of disdain.
Suddenly he remembered the Auror in front of him and turned around to run. He ran straight towards the burning forest, casting a fire resistence charm on himself before leaping into the flames. Yet he found himself running from something else.
A home, a family, a happy couple and their adorable baby, a betrayal. He ran as fast as he could, going as far as he could to escape the murders. He never heard the screams of James and Lily Potter as they were killed yet somehow they were engraved into his mind.
A shrieking and a scream and a baby's sobs. His feet would never be able to carry him away from all his guilt.
As he ran farther and farther his feet became heavier and he could no longer pick them up at the speed from before, his pace slowed as a result until he could no longer run at all. He came to a halt.
In front of him, as he tried to catch his breath was Sirius and Remus. They were shouting and he could tell they were angry but their voices drowned in the ringing in Peter’s head. He was in the shack and could see Harry and Hermione off to the side.
Sirius’ anger was now directed at Remus and Peter watched their soundless fight go on and on. Suddenly Sirius flung his wand in Peter’s direction and Peter closed his eyes instinctively.
—
When Peter blinks awake what he does not expect is the blue of the sky nor the feeling of fresh air, nor the sound of birds chirping and waves crashing in the distance. He does not expect to feel soft grass and flowers beneath him but he does. He wakes up and suddenly the endless nothing is something. It’s peaceful.
Peter sits up, groaning and rubbing his head which feels like it was just shoved against a brick wall.
He slumps his back and looks around. A field of flowers surrounds him and off in the distance are picturesque houses with chimneys and front gardens.
“Peter.”, A gentle voice calls.
Peter looks to the side. There standing in the fresh breeze with hair of fire, is Lily Potter. In her hands are a bouquet of flowers, gladiolus' and hawthorns and yarrows. His ability to recognize them only reminds him of Mary’s passion for flowers in sixth year, he frowns.
“You’re here.” He nods and she walks forward to him.
Lily stops a few feet away. She looks him up and down. A sudden smile grace's her lips and it seems as if it has made the very sun shine brighter. “You came back to us.”
Lily’s words remind Peter of the conversation he had with Evan, he remembers the mind numbing mix of emotions he had felt, he notes that they are no longer there, just peace.
“I have some pie at home if you want to come over.”
Peter nods, the idea of Lily Potter’s pie warms him from the inside out.
Lily steps closer to him and offers him her pile of flowers. Peter looks at them for a moment. He places his hand on the stems and draws them in close. The flowers' fresh scent soothe Peter’s head which now aches only a little.
Lily smiles yet again.
“I can imagine there are still many people who want to talk to you.”
Peter stops smelling the florals and looks up. “Still?” Exasperation fills his voice.
Lily giggles, “Yes, though I understand if you need a little bit before you are ready. However I think there is someone who you might want to see just now.”
Peter follows where she has pointed her finger to and see’s a great big willow tree covering a man in its shade.
He stares blankly at him, a thousand thought’s begging to be heard yet all of them silenced by the face Peter has been haunted by his entire life.
From behind him he hears Lily say she’ll leave them alone and walk away.
Even after she left Peter found himself rooted to the spot, much like the flowers he holds once were. Only after the man glances up at him does he walk towards him.
The thirty feet between them shouldn’t seem like that much but it stretches on forever before Peter finally steps beneath the willows shade.
“James.” He gasps, almost involuntarily. A wave of past yearning crashes onto him.
“Peter.” James' voice is warm and welcoming, he sounds relieved that Peter has found him.
“Come, sit!”
Doing as he is told, Peter lowers himself down and leans against the tree, placing his flowers besides him.
"How are you feeling?" James asks.
Peter stalls for a minute, he doesn't wonder what he is feeling, that all makes sense to him now, he is only reveling in the fact he is once again speaking with James Potter. A James potter, he notes, who does not seem to want to kill him or yell at him or storm away and never talk to him again.
Finally Peter returns to himself and speaks like.
"Good, finally."
James smiles, in the way he always has.
"I'm assuming it wasn't like that before?"
Peter shakes his head, "It was...nothing and then everything...", he pauses, "it was really fucking tiring is what it was."
James nods, "Yeah it's different for everyone, you're given the emotions you can handle slowly, guess you were real messed up to not feel anything at first."
"What...I don't really know what to do." Peter admits.
"You could start off with questions, if you have any." James' suggestion sounds really enticing, so Peter takes it.
"Where are we?"
"Hmmm...somewhere after life and outside of time."
Peter wants to ask if that means heaven but muggle ideas aren't usually accurate and besides if there was really a heaven or hell Peter wouldn't be in the one that lets him talk to his friends and make amends.
"Is everyone here?" The question is vague but Peter knows James will understand.
"Most, Sirius came a year or two ago and Barty one year before that, besides Remus pretty much everyone is here."
Peter nods as it slowly dawns on him how many people he'll have to talk and apologise to, especially now that the emptiness is gone.
"Sometimes Gilderoy visits...kinda."
Peter stalls, completely shocked.
"He died?" He hadn't heard anything of it.
"No, not really, he went...well it's a long story but he's kind of like Mary expect he doesn't always stick around. We don't really know what will happen he dies but we hope he'll be better."
Peter nods solemnly. He wasn't always fond of Gilderoy, he was to obsessed with Peter and the Marauders when he was younger and then to cocky as he got older but Peter did have a softness for him, sometimes.
"I'm sure Sirius wants to see you." James jolts Peter out of his thoughts. He turns his head to face James'.
"Really?"
"Yeah, I mean he is still Sirius which means he probably still act like he's pissed at you but really...I think he misses you. You guys didn't have the same relationship we all had with each other but he really cared about you, even if he had a weird way of showing it."
"You don't joke as much anymore." Peter notes.
James doesn't say anything for a moment.
"Well I'm pretty sure when I became a dad all that teenage humor slipped away and as I am sure you're aware I didn't exactly get enough time to learn any dad jokes."
Peter feels like at one point he might have been reminded of all that he did to cause that but the easiness of being with James makes that all slip away.
"Probably for the best, your humor was awful."
"Hey!" James fake punches Peter in the arm as the both laugh. In that moment all the leftover scraps of hurt and fear seem to float away, the willow tree taking the burden of anguish from Peter.
“I’m so sorry James.” Peter says as he looks up from the ground.
James smiles.
“Peter, you have been my friend since I was five,” James pauses, “and you always will be.” He smiles.
“The world was pushed towards us faster than we could have imagined and the war…”, he trails off before looking back at Peter, “We gave so much of ourselves to it and it screwed us over. We never will fully get back who we were before that but it’s ok. Because we’re ok and we’re happy and you’re here and I forgive you.”
Peter smiles softly.
James wraps himself around Peter in tight embrace.
James pulls back and stands up, offering a hand to Peter. He grabs the flowers before taking it.
"Let's go say hello to everyone, I'm sure by now Sirius has heard you're and is practically resurrecting himself with how antsy he is.