Butterflies

Butterflies

He had no idea what he was supposed to be feeling. He considered the face in the mirror opposite him, ashen with inconsistency; joy and regret fought for prevalence, but gave way to fear. There was a hunted look in those tired eyes. The minute hand on the clock behind him inched forward. Time was running out.

'For God's sake!' James screamed, causing Peter and Sirius to jump. He had been silent until now. 'For God's sake,' he repeated, taking a calming breath. 'This has to stop. We're talking about Remus here. Remus! When has he ever given us any reason not to trust him?'

Peter looked apologetic, but Sirius' face was set. 'We have to consider every possibility. You know that.'

'It's not Remus. It can't be Remus.'

'We don't know it's him,' Peter said quietly. 'It could just as easily be -'

'It's him,' Sirius interrupted with finality. 'Please, James, you have to believe me. I feel it. Remus is the traitor.'

There was an audible silence. Nobody had used the word 'traitor' before, but there it was. It took Peter a lot not to flinch at the disgust in Sirius' voice.

'No he isn't.'

There it was, the unspoken challenge. Peter knew the tension between James and Sirius had been rising in the past few weeks. It was ever since Snape had found out that somebody close to James and Lily had been giving the Dark Lord information. He had done You-Know-Who a favour, indirectly, for now suspicion was tearing them apart. Peter could not believe they suspected Remus. He was mostly relieved, but a small part of him desperately hoped they would discover the truth before anything awful happened to James and Lily.

Nothing would happen to them. Of course it wouldn't. He chided himself for thinking it. What had he been told? That they would be fine. You-Know-Who wasn't interested in killing them, he just wanted to know what they were doing. That was fair enough. He wasn't doing anybody any harm.

He looked at his hand and noticed that it was shaking. He put the other on top of it to stop the shaking, but it made no difference. How long would it be now? Not long. He was staring his delusion in the face, and it occurred to him that he'd known it would come to this long ago. The very first time.

'Are you going to be all right getting back, Peter?' That was Lily. Always concerned, these days.

'He'll be fine,' said James, with a smile. 'Same time tomorrow?'

Peter nodded. Either James had faith in him, or he didn't care if anything happened to Peter. Trying to ignore his negative thoughts, he wised his friends a good night. Yes. His friends. They were, weren't they? They liked to play a joke on him every now and then, but they cared... yes? Yes. Of course they cared.

They swept away on James' broomstick, Lily's giggles fading to silence. Peter mounted his own broom and set a course eastward, towards his home. It was a warm night. Peter half-considered going to see Remus, but decided against it. There had been something distinctly hostile in Remus' behaviour last time they talked (although it was around the full moon). He would go home, and read a good book. That would cheer him up.

As he approached home, Peter thought about what Sirius had said to him earlier that day. Was he really helping? He liked to think so. And yet Sirius was so often impatient with him. What was he supposed to do? He sighed as he dismounted and opened the front door of his house.

'Say and single word and I'll kill you,' said a quiet, dangerous voice as a hand slipped around his neck.

Yes, the first time. Then he acted out of fear, but subsequently he had... no. It was always fear. He could see that now. The fear of pain and death had consumed him, it had destroyed him. No, that wasn't right. It had destroyed them. His friends, his best friends.

'And we'd just like to say...' Sirius began.

'On this, an important day for everyone...' James continued.

'...that as well as being Remus' half-birthday, and two hundred and six days until my own...'

'...it is Peter's 18^th birthday. So he deserves at least a third the love and affection we have received...'

'...if not a half. Two hundred and six days, don't forget.'

Peter couldn't stop grinning as Remus handed him his birthday present with a half smile.

'Happy birthday, Peter,' he smiled, as James and Sirius sat down again.

'This is from all of us,' James said. 'Seeing as it was your idea.'

It was a blank piece of parchment. Peter was delighted.

He would have reached the house by now. Peter tried not to think about what had happened to James, Lily... to Harry. What had he done? What had he let himself be talked in to?

'YES HE IS! Don't you see, can't you understand - I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to save your life!'

'My life doesn't need saving. Not just yet.'

'Yes, it does. And I know who can help you.'

Peter couldn't tell whether Sirius was looking at him with admiration or the realisation of his own brilliance. He had decided long ago he didn't care.

After all, when had they ever treated him like a real equal? Instead of just a tagalong, a chubby little boy who thought James and Sirius were cool - who did they have to blame but themselves?

'You know you're one of our best friends, right?' James said, with a smile. 'We may have teased you a bit back in school, but honestly, Peter, you've always been there for us. And would a "tagalong", as you put it, be able to master Animagus transformation? I doubt it. Honestly, Peter, we may not say it enough, but we really do love you. I've no idea what we'd do without you...'

Why had he let these things get so mixed up in his own head? He couldn't tell left from right any more, let alone right from wrong. It was the final visit, the first and only time he had come face-to-face with the real man, the real Dark Lord. It had been hours but he was still shaking, he still heard the high-pitched laugh in his ears.

'You have done me immeasurable service, Peter. You will be highly rewarded. I ask only one more favour of you.'

The small part of Peter's brain that still remembered who his friends were closed down and was gone forever. Peter Pettigrew himself was no longer in control of his thoughts and his secrets.

'I know where they are.'

The minute hand reached the hour, and the clock struck three times. Peter buried his face in his hands and was surprised to feel the dampness there. There were no tears, just sweat. He was far beyond tears now. It was over.

'Hrm,' said a small voice, in Peter's head. 'Difficult... definitely difficult. There's potential in here, and a lot of it. But where should you go?'

Gryffindor, thought Peter. The boy he had met on the train, Remus, had already been Sorted into Gryffindor.

'Gryffindor, eh? Yes... there's bravery here, deep down. And ... well... so be it. GRYFFINDOR!'

Choices, Peter thought, with a half-smile. That's what it was all about, Dumbledore was right. James and Lily and Harry were dead, by his choice. But that was his choice and it had been made, and nothing would change it. It was just something he would have to accept.

Emptying his mind, and feeling suddenly and explicably free, he stood up and helped himself to a drink.

'Peter. It has to be Peter.'

*