Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree

Peter Pettigrew sat alone, cold and shivering. Where he had once been pleasantly plump, he was now emaciated. Where he had once been almost compulsively tidy, he was now dressed in tattered rags of an indistinguishable color and material, with dirt and grime of several varieties smeared across his unshaven face. Where he had once been happy and surrounded by friends, he was now alone, betrayed and betrayer.

He had never thought that there could be a good aspect to Azkaban, but amazingly enough, he had found one. He had time. There was time... to sit... and be alone... and to think. Yes, I have time, he thought to himself, as he stared out the tiny window in the wall of his cell, hoping for some glimpse of the stars or moon. Moon. Moony.He sighed with something between nostalgia and anger at the thought of his old friend. Moony had been the strategist, the one who figured out how to put their wonderful pranks into action. James himself had come up with most of the ideas, and Sirius was usually the one to carry them out, while Peter provided a distraction with his flawless acting. Ah, they had all had their roles, none more or less important than any of the others. With them, he had been equal, for the first and only time in his life.

"All right," Remus whispered, watching his watch with one eye and the Head Table with the other, as he timed Minerva McGonagall´s alcohol consumption. It was a widely spread rumor that he himself, in the combination of James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew, was what had finally driven the poor woman to the bottle. "She´s had four cups... in five-four-three-two-one-go, Peter!"

Instantly, Peter rose from his seat, with a loud cry of, "I am not worthless!" His chin trembled, and his already watery eyes filled with angry tears. "I´m good at... Potions, and..." here he paused to think for a moment--- "Astronomy! I do too have talents! I don´t have to sit here and listen to you insult me!" He swirled around to march away--- and promptly tripped over the hem of his robes and fell flat on his face, hitting his forehead hard on the edge of the table as he went down. He didn´t move.

"Oh, my," the slightly tipsy McGonagall murmured. "Can´t that boy go more than an hour without some sort of accident?" Despite her callous words, she quickly rose from her seat to check on her pupil. As soon as she was out of Sirius´ line of vision, the boy raised his wand, a wicked smirk on his face.

"Hulacanta!" he whispered, and a jet of light that looked like it had been created by Crayola shot directly at Severus Snape. Then, "Naturavetement!"  as well.

The spectacle there was one never before seen in the Great Hall. Severus Snape, attired in a grass Hula skirt, lei, and coconut bra, was climbing onto the Slytherin house table, a confused look on his face. Peter sat up and watched, as McGonagall turned away from him to gawk.

"Her name was Lola / She was a showgirl," Snape began singing, and the confused look changed to one that would send all the first years, and many of the second and third years, running in pure terror. If looks could kill, Sirius Black would be a writhing puddle of goo on the floor. Of course, looks can´t kill, and instead, Sirius was singing along.

"With yellow feathers in her hair / And a dress cut down to there- Now here´s the best part!" Sirius leaned almost down to the floor to whisper into Peter´s ear.

"She would meringue / And do the cha-cha---" as Snape sang these lines, he began to do a jerky, but unmistakable cha-cha step, with a touch of hula thrown in for good measure. Snape´s look now made the previous one look like Bambi eyes. The students had, in general, been trying to hold in their laughter, but now the Great Hall exploded in chuckles, giggles, hoots, roars, and sniggers. In general, it was a lot of noise. And it didn´t stop for fifteen minutes, even when Dumbledore himself called for silence.

"But the best part," James told the others later, after detentions had been given and points taken. "Is that I had this." And he held up a pocket-sized wizard´s camera, just before all four burst out laughing.

Peter sighed, remembering the days when life was simple. The sigh turned to a silent scream as the Dementors, sensing happiness, clustered around his cell, breathing deeply. Peter felt the chill set in, and seep into his bones and deeper as the Dementors fed.

"My Lord---" Peter kneeled at the feet of the tall, thin man once known as Tom Riddle. "It has happened--- the Potters have made me their Secret-Keeper---" Wincing, Peter tried not to remember James as his friend. James was not his friend. James was not his friend. James had married Lily, knowing how, for years, Peter had worshipped her. Lily Evans, with her red hair and sparkling green eyes, her talent for charms, both magical and natural, James had often joked. Oh, Lily was a goddess, and Peter was forever her worshipful acolyte. James had known all this. And yet he had pursued Lily. Peter´s heart had cracked when they began dating; broken when they married.

Under the spreading chestnut tree---

"Excellent, Wormtail," the Dark Lord said softly. Peter tried not to wince as the nickname James had given him was used as he betrayed James. "For this, you shall receive a reward--- name what you desire." Green eyes, almost as bright as Lily´s, stared into Peter´s blue-gray.

"Only one thing, my Lord," he gulped, gathering up his courage. "Don´t harm Lily Potter. Leave her be, but don´t allow either her or Sirius Black remember that it was me who was the Secret-Keeper." Peter prayed that Lord Voldemort would agree. If he didn´t, Peter was too far gone to save himself, or Lily.

"Ah, yes," Voldemort sneered. "The one thing you want most--- this Mudblood woman." He eyed Peter, and if he hadn´t known any better, he would have said that the Dark Lord looked uneasy. "But why go through all this trouble to kill her husband, when a simple love potion would have her leave him and wed you in an instant?"

Peter shook his head. "I want her willingly, my Lord. Or not at all." Lily meant the world to him, he would never force her into anything.

"Foolish lad," Voldemort snorted. "Very well. I will not harm the woman, unless she is in my way. And, neither she nor Black will remember your involvement.  Is it fair enough?" He asked the last question mockingly. Any Death Eater worth his salt, or even not, knew enough to answer that question in the affirmative.

"Yes, my Lord." With one last hesitation, barely able to be seen, Peter poured out the secret he was supposed to have guarded with his life. Voldemort smiled, and Peter felt sick.

"Excellent, Wormtail." Peter bowed even more deeply as the Dark Lord swept past him. The corner of his robe touched Peter´s shoulder, and he shuddered.

The next few days were the most stressful Peter had ever experienced. At every word from his friends, he was positive that they had found him out. At every summons from his Master, he was convinced that the attack was to be now. And finally, the day came.

It was the Dark Lord´s practice to bring Death Eaters on any mission he went on, so as to make sure that none escaped. On this trip, Peter was one of the chosen. As he pulled the mask on over his head, he wondered again why he was doing this. Was it truly worth it?

Yes, he thought as he pictured Lily´s eyes staring adoringly into his own. It would all be worth it.

--- I sold you and you sold me ---

Peter, along with Lucius Malfoy, was the only one to accompany the Dark Lord that night. Peter tried not to think as his Master swept away into the cottage that Peter had come to think of as another home. He sat down on the stump of a tree, with his arms wrapped about him, shivering. Lucius Malfoy looked down his nose at him.

"No taste for killing, eh?" he said scornfully. "You won´t get far with that attitude."

"They were my friends," Peter whispered, knowing how unwise it was to give a man like Lucius any sort of personal information, and not caring. "I´ve betrayed them."

"I´m sure they´d do just the same to you, for even half of what our Master has promised you," Lucius replied, and if it was meant to be comfort, it was not encouraging.

They stayed in silence for a moment. It took even the Dark Lord a few minutes to remove the multitudes of warding spells that James and Lily had put around the house, and those moments, as he waited for his friends to die, were the most agonizing of Peter´s life.

Then he heard his Master´s laugh, and he could even hear James shouting in that voice he knew so well "Lily, it´s him! Run, I´ll hold him off!" Tears filled Peter´s eyes. Then, a flash of green light, through the downstairs windows. Lucius, standing beside Peter, chuckled.

A moment of silence passed. Then, Peter heard the voice he wanted so badly to hear speak lovingly to him, scream out in horror. He winced.

"Out of the way, girl!" His Master.

"No, no, take me, kill me instead..." No, no, Lily, you´re to be spared, just move, let him do what he must. "Please, not Harry..." God, no, she wouldn´t leave her son...

"Out of the way!"

"No!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Peter´s cry joined Lily´s.

It had been ages ago--- sixteen years, in fact, but he still remembered that night in perfect detail. He remembered the morning, too--- the day when he had realized that Sirius still knew of his betrayal--- and would have to be dealt with. Peter´s acting talent came in handy one last time.

But, oh gods above, how Peter regretted his life. What he wouldn´t give to see Lily smiling, at anyone, one more time. What he wouldn´t give to help with one more of James´ pranks. What he wouldn´t give to see Harry as he was now. What he wouldn´t give to take it all back.

---There lie they, and here lie we---

He knew where Lily and James were buried. He had even visited it, once. Under a Glamoury, of course, he was not quite that foolish. Not anymore. He had left flowers. Lilies, of course, for James (who had always joked about being required to like the flowers as well as his wife) and lilacs, Lily´s favorite flower and difficult to find, but anything for Lily, even in death.

It was a lovely grave site, sitting by the banks of a quiet stream, in the field where the two of them, and often Harry, would have picnics for lunch. There were two small headstones that marked the spot where his beloved and her husband lay.

If he had had a choice, Peter would have chosen their sort of tomb over the kind he now occupied any day. At least with death came oblivion. Or so he hoped. No more memories, of good or bad. No more pain.

The Dementors stood around his cell, sucking what little joy there was out like moisture. Peter stared out, past the bars of his window. The moon was just setting, and it seemed as though it just barely rested on the water of the horizon. No more pain.

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Together until the end. The end had come, and gone, and Peter was left alone, betrayer and betrayed. No more pain.

Peter put his head down in his hands and wept.

No more pain. No more betrayal.

--- Under the spreading chestnut tree.