When My World Shatters
I.
"Murder," Albus Dumbledore tells them, "shatters the soul. It is, in essence, the killing of both the victim and the murderer."
"Do they know?" Sirius asks, still pacing frantically across Professor Dumbledore's office. "Why would they keep killing if they knew?"
"For the greater good," Dumbledore says. Peter stares at him, at those ice blue eyes. "Sometimes, they see no other way."
Sirius growls, still pacing. Remus leans against Dumbledore's desk, drumming his fingers on the cool wood. James twirls his wand in shaking hands.
Peter does not move.
II.
Dorcas is tanned and beautiful, and Peter has always been a bumbling fool around her. She is always so kind, though, and so patient, and she lays a gentle hand on his arm when he stutters.
"You were good to me," he says softly, and her pale green eyes don't hold any disgust, even now. She looks sorry. Regretful.
"We trusted you," she whispers. Her hand twitches pathetically, searching for the wand Peter knows is snapped somewhere near his feet. He sees her engagement ring glint in the light, thinks of Gideon, of what he will say when they tell him.
"Avada Kedavra," he says, and it honestly pains him to see the light leave her eyes. She was always so kind.
III.
"Defeat," the Dark Lord tells them, "shatters the illusion of power. The only way to maintain this power?"
The Death Eaters stand stock-still, shoulders squared, masks covering all but cruel grins and bright eyes. Peter shuffles awkwardly in the third row, behind the important figures, behind the favourites. He wishes his hands would stop shaking.
"Yes, my lord?" breathes Bellatrix Lestrange, all shallow breaths and lust-filled gazes.
The Dark Lord's lip quirks. Peter stills. All is silent.
"Go undefeated."
IV.
He comes far too close to losing far too many times. The others see it in him.
When he is sent to kill Regulus, he knows it is a message, a taunt. You mean so little to us that we have sent this fool to end you.
Regulus laughs when he sees him, voice high and cold and entirely too dark to be Sirius' brother, to have diverted to the good side in the end. "You?" he croaks. "Oh, this should be good. Little Pettigrew. Dumbledore's fool."
Peter stiffens. "I am not Dumbledore's. I belong to the - the Dark Lord," he hisses, but he is stuttering and fidgeting and he knows that Regulus is not scared.
"My apologies," Regulus says with a smirk. "The Dark Lord's fool."
He fingers his wand casually, slouching slightly against the bricks. "I could beat you easily. We both know it," he says, not even looking up. "So why did they send you? Do they want me to get away? Perhaps...they want rid of you?"
When he laughs, Peter is shocked at the cruelty in his own voice. "I'm much too important for that," he growls, "and I haven't been killed yet, Black."
Regulus smiles tightly, straightening up. "Nor have I."
"Well," Peter says, "I have a - a bit of a plan."
"A plan?" Regulus asks. His mouth is twisted into a jeering smile, boredom in his grey eyes. "Do tell."
"It's simple, really," Peter says, tensing his fingers on the handle of his wand. He feels the anticipation in the air, senses the shift in this power play between them. "The plan," he drawls, "is to go undefeated."
Regulus is dead before the green light has finished flashing in Peter's eyes. He supposes he should feel victorious.
He just feels sick.
V.
"Death," James tells them, "is the only thing that could shatter this bond. We are Marauders, and we are brothers."
The firewhisky of this breath is stale. One clammy hand rests on the back of Peter's neck, the other in Sirius' long hair. Remus throws his head back and laughs, scrabbling at the arm of the chair when he nearly falls to the floor.
"I think you might be - hic - pissed, Prongs," he chuckles, straightening his glasses on his nose. "'Shatter this bond.' Honestly."
Sirius grins. "You are a bit of a girl sometimes, mate. Too much time with Lily?" he teases, and James thumps him on the arm.
"What do you think, eh, Pete?" Remus asks, his eyes a little unfocused, his words a bit slurred.
"He's right," Peter says quietly. "Death is the only thing that could break us."
James claps a hand on his shoulder and grins. Remus and Sirius roll their eyes, chuckling and muttering under their breaths. "Thanks, Wormtail," James says, his voice entirely too sincere and warm. Peter swallows painfully.
He does not say that this death will come, that they will be shattered. He does not say it is his fault, that he is the one who broke them. He does not say that he is sorry, though he wants to. He does not say anything at all, and they all four fall asleep drunk around the kitchen table in James and Lily's new house.
When Lily finds them in the morning, belly swollen and heavy, she doesn't wake them to complain about the mess or the noise or the baby's frantic kicking. She just makes a cup of tea as quietly as she can, and wanders back to bed.
Let them sleep, she thinks. They look peaceful. There'll be time for everything else later.
VI.
He spends the night holed up in the Lestranges' house, downing bottle after bottle until he is too drunk to speak without crying. He stays silent, blinking furiously against lights that are too bright, voices that are too sharp.
"Anyone would think you cared, little Pettigrew," Bellatrix purrs, shoving a glass of water into his hands. "Tell me...did they really mean so much to you? You did sign their death warrants."
Peter inhales through his nose. Gulps down the water. Clears his throat. "No," he murmurs, "I don't care, don't care at all, they don't mean anything - didn't mean anything. Can I - can I go? I need to go."
Bellatrix smirks. She throws her husband an amused look, but Rodolphus just glares at Peter disgustedly. "Go then," he hisses.
The next thing Peter knows, he is outside, and the night air is helping to clear his head just a little, and stars are growing brighter, and there's a shattered bond at his feet, a shattered soul twisting inside him but -
No, no, those things aren't true, he tells himself. For the greater good, Dumbledore had said. And isn't that what he's doing? For the greater good, for the Dark Lord's good, for Peter's -
"You spineless fucking coward," comes the low growl from behind him, and it's Sirius, that's Sirius' voice and he knows, he has to know. "You killed them."
Peter turns slowly, head still clouded and foggy. "Sirius, I didn't - "
"YOU KILLED THEM!" he roars, spittle flying from his lips, a madness in his eyes that Peter has only seen in his brother's, his cousin's. "They trusted you, Pettigrew. We trusted you. Everyone did."
His wand is in his hand, Peter sees, but they're on a Muggle street and people are staring.
"Sirius, please, listen - "
"'Only Death'" Sirius growls, "could shatter this bond.' Did you know then? Did you have a good old laugh to yourself? Did it amuse you, that we trusted you, that we cared for you?"
"No," Peter says, but his throat is dry and it comes out as a croak and his fingers are tight around his wand when Sirius raises his and then -
There is a bang -
People are screaming -
Peter is bleeding, he's bleeding, he's changing -
Sirius roars, Sirius hates him now, Sirius will kill him and -
And Wormtail scuttles away, fear pounding in his tiny chest, until he is no longer surrounded by smoke and screaming and regret, until he can breathe again, almost, and Dumbledore's eyes keep dancing before him, so blue, and he wonders if he knew, but if he did then why didn't he stop him and Dumbledore had to know because he's supposed to know everything and -
And he doesn't.
And Peter is alone, not yet aware that his lord has fallen. Only that his friends have, thinking that their child has. Peter is sick, and confused, and alone, and James and Lily are growing colder with each tiny, scurrying footstep.
But Peter is still undefeated, and he hates the part of him that laughs.
AN: Thanks to Nay for Beta-ing and uploading for me because I am laptopless and alone.
For:
The Title Swap III Competition - using the given character Peter Pettigrew, the extra characters Voldemort and Dumbledore and the prompts death and blue.
