WHO: Peter Pettigrew, Brian Avery
WHAT: Peter answers Avery's summons, albeit reluctantly
WHEN: 28 March, early morning
WHERE: Avery's manor
RATING: Unrated of yet, probably R
Incomplete

~ ~ ~
Peter hadn't slept a wink.

He never could, not when he knew that something was coming the next day. He'd always been like that, even as a child, but back then it was more out of anticipation. Like not being able to go to sleep because in the morning it would be Christmas and there'd be presents and family and laughter. These days it was apprehension that kept him awake in the dark, staring at the pock-marked ceiling above the bed. After a few hours he would begin to imagine the water-stains morphing their shapes into ghosts, staring down with washed out eyes to condemn how he'd taken a dead man's house for himself. Then he'd roll over on to his side and shut his eyes for a few minutes, before giving up and going out to the kitchen to stare into the empty icebox for awhile. Oh but how he remembered food. Some of his fondest memories were always set during meals. Reflecting on that, perhaps it was better that he had only a few meagre supplies to make something to eat out of. He didn't like remembering anymore. So he'd make a sandwich out of whatever was there, eat it quietly at the table, and then go back to bed. Stare at the ceiling some more. Wait for dawn.

Surprisingly he didn't feel any more tired than usual as he Apparated to Avery's manor. Certainly his body ached, desperate for some rest, but he'd grown used to that feeling years ago. The pounding behind his eyes was how he kept the time these days. Three pulses to a second. Thud, thud, thud. Another night of insomnia wasn't going to do anything to make that much worse.

Avery's place was dark, as though the light from the morning sun shunned the aged wood of its walls and gables. The windows all had curtains drawn over them, unwelcoming and dour. It really wasn't that much different than Spinner's End, really. Snape's old place was just as forbidding, and Peter had been staying there for over a year now. He could go inside this place for an hour. It wouldn't be that hard. He hoped. Nervously he fingered his wand, staring at the steps that led up to the front door. Why had Avery summoned him? He tried to avoid most of the other Death Eaters whenever possible. No one needed him these days; he'd done his part. He'd brought the Dark Lord back, helped him gain power over the nation; what more could anyone ask of him? He just wanted to be left alone, leave the business of securing that power to other people.

He sighed and advanced on the house, knowing that he couldn't find a way to ignore Avery's demand. The man was much higher on the chain than he was, despite Peter having been the one to restore the grandeur of their Master. Avery would find some way of making life even more of a hell for Peter if he didn't do as he commanded. Spitting violently to the side, he slid his wand up his sleeve and knocked at the door.