Experience Tumblr Like Never Before
What makes the heart of a traitor? Peter Pettigrew should know. It was, after all, the heart beating in his chest, pumping the traitorous blood that kept him alive. Lately, his heart rate has felt less human, more rat-like. He was more rat-like. Years of being Scabbers has taken an obvious toll on him. The Peter Pettigrew that called himself a marauder, studied James’ quidditch moves, gleefully cast aguamenti to wake up Sirius, and snuck down to the kitchens to feed Remus’ never-ending appetite, was scarcely there anymore. Being a Death Eater on the run would do that to you. Now he was constantly twitching, flinching at every movement and loud sound and (possibly worst of all) reduced to acting as a servant of the one and only Severus Snape. Sitting down miserably in his cellar after a long day of being belittled and listening to thinly disguised quips about his dignity and intelligence, he reminisced. Of his long-gone Hogwarts days; days of freedom and laughs and pranks and never-ending homework. Back when he was Pete, one of the marauders, the good guys. Those were easily the happiest times of his life, when things were simple and happiness seemed to be everflowing.