Ad Mortem Festinamus

All his life, he hasn't been blessed by fortune, in no whatsoever respect. Neither handsome nor overly smart, nor more than average as a wizard, he comes from a family of little importance, pure-blooded in the sixth generation, and without enough money to make up for this flaw. And this has only been the beginning of his bad luck, it has come much worse yet.

In Hogwarts, he was sorted to Gryffindor House, for reasons absolutely unintelligible to himself, or anyone who has ever met him. He isn't brave, but perhaps the Sorting Hat realised that he's even less brainy, or cunning, and that loyalty really isn't his forte either. Yes, Peter Pettigrew thinks, he ended up in Gryffindor by default, like always. His new dorm mates there found him out in no time, and he would have been their jackass, if it hadn't been for another boy already occupying the title of the official loser, and relieving Peter from his usual suffering.

James and Sirius - oh, just how poised they fancied themselves, how superior and infallible! They 'allowed' him to be their pet, as Sirius often pointed out, being so much more talented and popular than him, so much cooler. Sirius was oh-so-excellent in everything he ever did, and so darn good-looking. All the girls were crazy in love with him, too, making him even more arrogant. James on the other hand was equally well-off, equally skilled, and a Quidditch ace, every girl that didn't already fancy Sirius was infatuated with him instead. But being similarly stuck-up like his best mate, he didn't contemplate any, and instead only had eyes for the petty little mudblood. The third one of the merry bunch is a werewolf, in Merlin's name, as Peter was forced to hear in his third year in school, but the others didn't mind, and Peter didn't dare to voice his repulsion against their vote. A werewolf! It only adds up to show how full of themselves Sirius and James are, but Peter has always regarded himself happy not to be in their bad books still.

Said other boy to carry that burden in their school time was Severus Snape, the object of Peter's pure and unadulterated glee and scorn. Snape outsmarted him in everything, he's so much more talented and clever, but it didn't help him nevertheless. Ugly, poor, unpopular, he was the ideal target for James' jibes and Sirius' curses, and the national laughing stock for everybody else. He had only few friends of his own, most of them much older and therefore long gone from Hogwarts to back him up. Scruffy as is, the only people standing up for him then were, ironically, two girls.

First of all, Sirius' cousin Narcissa Black. Boy, she was another one of the high and mighty, feeling far too superior to talk to anyone else, with the exception of Snivellus. God knows what she has been thinking to favour him of all persons, but she did. The other girl was Lily Evans, James' everlasting flame and later wife. She must have thought he was a kindred spirit, keen on potion-making like her, and another mudblood to boot. She was a favourite with all the teachers for being so talented, and so friendly... But Peter has seen her for what she really is - nothing but an unworthy muggleborn, just good enough to go to a wizard's school, but surely not to capture someone like James Potter. But this one wouldn't listen to reason, he has tried to get off with her ever since their forth year, and finally, in their seventh, she yielded to his wooing. Peter has never openly commented on this, but he staunchly believes that James has thrown himself away.

No, he doesn't love his so-called friends. He admires them, but that's not the same. And given the circumstances they're living through, he has decided to go with the time, meaning - he turned to the only person he knows for sure to be a Death Eater, because James met him in a battle once and pulled down his mask. So Peter contacted Evan Rosier, and this seems to have forwarded his appliance.

"Why do you want to join our ranks?" Lucius Malfoy asks him suspiciously. "I know who you are, you've been hanging around with Sirius Black and Potter all the time, and they're Dumbledore's men."

Peter is able to give an honest, convincing answer on this head. "They are, but that could be a great advantage for your cause, couldn't it?" Malfoy sneers, but signals him to go on. "You see, no one has ever paid attention to me, nobody bothers for what I do, or where I'm going. In the same moment, they're all convinced that I'm best mate with Black and Potter, and therefore a hundred percent loyal to Dumbledore and the other mudblood lovers. I hear things that might interest the Dark Lord, I come to meet people that none of you could accidentally encounter -"

"Why should we believe you? Perhaps you're a double spy?"

"If you seriously believed that, why would you have met me tonight? If I was a spy, I could give you away at once, and you wouldn't want to risk that, would you?"

If he believed he could intimidate Lucius Malfoy, he has been utterly wrong, as he sees at once. Malfoy roars with laughter, and draws his wand so quickly that Peter hasn't got a chance to do anything at all. Still chuckling and pressing his wand against Peter's throat, Malfoy gives him a long, cold look.

"I've met you because my master has asked me to. My order is to see what you're up to, and if I find you to be dishonest, or otherwise unpromising, I am to - dispose of you at once. Do you understand me, Ratface?"

Peter swallows and nods anxiously, frozen by Malfoy's fierce gaze. That guy isn't joking, and seeing his reputation otherwise, Peter has no doubt that his own death will be efficient and well-conceived, but certainly not quick and painless, if he can't satisfy Malfoy's expectations. This one inquires about his knowledge in the Dark Arts next - none whatsoever, deplorably - or other qualifications, and eagerly, Peter points out that he can turn himself into a rat. Malfoy doesn't believe him until he proves it, and to appear a bit more impressive, he omits to mention that he has only succeeded so far because his old mates have become Animagi, too, and helped him with his transformation.

At least, he has caught Malfoy's attention, who continues the interview in the same conceited manner, but less hostile. Peter has never understood why all the great ones would always be so haughty beyond expression, even Malfoy with his famous bloodline and all his power and connections is just a human being like Peter himself. Why does everyone always treat him so contemptuously? Malfoy must have read that question in his gaze, whatever, he answers it with a disdainful smirk.

"You wonder why I should treat you like dirt, do you? That's because you are dirt, Pettigrew. You've contacted Rosier, in order to betray your old friends after all. While I'm not saying that this might not be useful for our cause - I reserve my judgement in this case - you should know still how thoroughly despicable I find you, personally. You are a coward, a traitor, and excuse me, a rat - how could I treat you otherwise than like vermin?"

Fortunately, Peter is used to such an attitude, and even if Malfoy was right with some of the things he said, Peter has yet another quality, one that has always been helpful - showing a mixture of submission, admiration and contrition. It has worked with all of them, with Sirius, with James, with Rosier, and it doesn't fail Malfoy's vanity either.

"Very well," this one says eventually, after a swift glimpse at his silver chronograph. "This must suffice. I will forward your application to my master, expect our notice soon."

"You mean you will send me an owl?"

Admittedly, the question was plain stupid, and he receives an adequate scowl for it. "I'm afraid not, Pettigrew. The Dark Lord doesn't rely on owls. You will notice our effort if we are to contact you, this way or - that."

He emphasises the last bit, and Peter can't suppress a shudder with the obvious implications. If he hasn't appealed to Malfoy, he simply won't wake up again, tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, they'll simply kill him to eliminate an unwanted witness. To make up for his blunder, and reconcile Malfoy's good grace, he hurries to say, "Of course, Sir! Thank you for your time and attention, and please forward my admiration to Mrs. Malfoy. And my best wishes for the expected heir -"

Although he clearly sees through that feeble attempt, Malfoy shows a little smile. "Oh please! Well, I hope your intelligence for the Dark Lord is going to be a bit more exclusive than what you've read in the Daily Prophet. Off you go, Pettigrew, don't try my patience!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cave... Beware of mute dogs and silent waters.