POWER, peter pettigrew

POWER

Breath in, breath out. Voices. Screaming. The darkness, the light. The darkness again.

Murderer. You murdered them. No. No, I didn't. Yes, you did. No. Yes. No. Yes.

— NO!

Breath in, breath out.

Eh, just kill the rest. Kill the muggles and run. There is no way back, is it? No.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Okey, what's done is done. Now just remember the rules. Don't. Get. Caught.

Run, Peter, run!

And just then everything stoped. Every voice, every scream, even every source of light. Every last sparkle of hope. James Potter is dead. There should be no light and hope.

He was nothing before school. Unnoticed. Unheard. Unvisible.

James Potter was the first to make him feel wanted. Finally make him feel like fucking something. He made his opinion valuable, made people want to listen to him. Made him confident. Just by befriending him. So how could Peter help not falling helplessly in love with him? Well, maybe the thing was that he couldn't. But the difference was that by this time Peter was not helpless anymore. He gave Peter voice and he should have known the consequences.

Breath in.

Having a voice is fucking addictive.

Breath out.

He risked a quick look back and regretted it immadiately. He was further away now but somehow the screams got louder. Murderer!

Oh, he liked him so, so much. He liked everything about him. His strong hands, his wide smile, his soothing voice, his homour, his messy hair, his eyes, his freckles, his glasses, his laugh, his skin, his bones, his heart and his soul. Just everything. James Potter was everything. Peter wanted to be. And Peter just... couldn't. Peter couldn't be him or with him or anything.

So he admired him. Admired his ability to make everyone in the room laugh their lungs off. Admired the sparkle in his eyes, so sly and so confident. Admired even the sight of the sun reflecting in his glasses on sunny afternoons. Admired his bravery and power. Because James Potter had power, you must know. So much power and propably had not even been aware of it. Or maybe he didn't want it. Either way there was something inappropriately atractive just about the thought, only the possibility of making everyone follow him blindly. Peter knew he was one of them himself. He didn't mind though.

He was not special. Everyone loved James. And that's why everyone would jump if he jumped. It was just natural, something obvious. An instinct.

And Peter had to plan ahead if he didn't want to jump. Because there was only one thing Peter loved more than James Potter. The power he was given.

Breath in, breath out.

Peter Pettigrew was not a villian, he swore.

But he just had to have the hero dead.