Unexpected

Unexpected

Peter Pettigrew wandered down the halls of Lord Voldemort's headquarters and sighed. Being a Death Eater was nothing like he'd expected.

When he'd first been approached by Lucius Malfoy, at the tender age of seventeen, he'd been in a rather frightening situation. About to graduate, he'd had no idea what was going to become of him. James had had Lily, Remus and Sirius had had each other, but he had had no one. So when the Dark Lord had promised power, money, lots of girls, and most importantly of all, protection from bullies, Peter had leapt at the offer.

But even now, three years after he had helped Lord Voldemort resurrect himself, Peter still had not received anything he'd been hoping for.

Power wise, he was little more than a servant, a slave. His role in the Death Eaters was that of a waiter and a maid. The longest conversation between him and the Dark Lord had consisted of "No, a little to the left," , "It's still not centered," , "Higher," and, "For evil's sake, Wormtail! Can't you even hang a picture properly?" He hadn't been told before that Lord Voldemort was very particular about his interior design.

The money he'd been promised hadn't come through either. When he'd asked years and years ago, before Voldemort's first fall, he'd been shown a very small clause in the contract he'd signed at his initiation. Apparently, all the money he made would be put into funding Lord Voldemort's cause, mainly paying for designer clothes and expensive food to fit the Dark Lord's fancy. He learnt a valuable lesson that day: always read the fine print.

As for the girls, well, let's just say that headquarters was not exactly full to the brim with blushing virgins. In fact, the only female Peter had seen so far was Bellatrix Lestrange. She was definitely not what he'd been expecting. He liked his women sane, single and not attached to the Dark Lord's arse by her lips.

The protection had improved, though. During his time as a rat, Peter hadn't really been that safe, what with the possibility of death and/or incarceration if he'd turned back into a human. Now that the Dark Lord had come back, he was safe from the Ministry and the Order. As long as he didn't leave headquarters. However, he still wasn't safe from the Dark Lord.

Peter was steadily becoming more and more convinced that Lord Voldemort was, well, unstable might be a term one could use. Absolutely psychotic might be another.

He wasn't sure if the reason was that the Dark Lord had the blood of a now seventeen year old boy in his veins, and all the hormones that come with that, or if it was because of his twelve year period of abstinence. But whatever the cause, the Dark Lord was horny. Very, very horny. All the time.

When Lucius Malfoy, who Peter thought might be the only other sane person there, told the Dark Lord that his son, Draco, had discarded his life as a future Death Eater and was now dating Harry Potter, the Dark Lord had laughed.

Then he had said, "I always knew that boy had taste. Potter's quite a dish, isn't he?"

Malfoy's face had clearly shown his disagreement.

However, the Dark Lord had continued, "I wonder if they snog very often. I'd pay quite a lot to see that."

Peter had thought Malfoy was going to have an aneurysm.

Peter continued his walk down the halls and made his way past the Dark Lord's chambers. He was brought back to reality by the sound of Malfoy's unbelieving voice.

"My Lord, with all due respect, what are you doing?"

Peter looked into the room to see Lord Voldemort reclining on a sofa, being fed grapes by a handsome young recruit. Malfoy stood off to the side with a look of astonishment.

"I'm relaxing, Lucius. Clearly, you've never heard of it. You should really try it sometime. Wrinkles are dreadfully unattractive, you know."

Malfoy's eyes widened even more.

"Shouldn't we be working on our latest evil scheme?"

Lord Voldemort sighed loudly, with all the sincerity of a soap opera actress.

"I'm taking a day off, Lucius. The Light Side has a Day of Rest, so I deserve one too."

Malfoy looked confused and his next words were spoken haltingly.

"But... it's... Tuesday, my Lord."

Lord Voldemort's face took on a very practiced expression of shock.

"You can't expect me to have the same Day of Rest as those sickening do-gooders, can you?"

Malfoy didn't have a response to that, aside form possibly another aneurysm.

No, Peter thought, the Dark Side is not what I expected at all.