|Peter Pettigrew (spinzone) wrote in the100,|
@ 2015-04-26 22:47:00
|Entry tags:||!log/thread, albus severus potter, peter pettigrew|
Who: Peter Pettigrew and Albus Potter
When: April 26, before dinner
Where: Mess Hall
What: Peter feels like he's putting his life on the line, but he did agree to get a drink with Albus.
Rating: Uh.... low, maybe? IDK there might be talk of fun stuff like character death. I mean, it's Peter Pettigrew, think of all sorts of warnings. Definitely a TW for thoughts of suicide.
It was lonely, being here and not talking to anyone from home. He was making friends, but it wasn't the same. Peter felt as if any moment everything would come crumbling down on him and he'd be told to leave, to go outside and never come back in. And he was prepared to do it. Peter was tired of the persistent depression that had fallen on him. He was grieving: for himself, for the friends that he'd betrayed, for the friendships that were lost to him. He was angry, at himself, at the other three for not seeing whatever was happening to him and trying to stop it. There were no good days, and no bad days. They were just days, in which he woke up to work, and then tried to keep himself busy until it was time to sleep. He practiced the healing charms that he'd learnt in his Medi-Wizard training, and volunteered in the hospital, doing whatever it was that they would let him do, and leaving when they told him to go home. He explored the compound, transfiguring himself into his rat form and hiding away in nooks and crannies, sometimes sticking his nose out into the open air outside of the mountain and ducking back in when he smelled an animal, or the earthy scent of a grounder prowling around.
Lily's post had hurt, but he didn't argue with her, refused to argue with Remus. She had every right to take out her anger on him, but like he told Remus, he didn't have stay there for it. He'd had every intention of just staying away from the lot of them when Albus Potter, obviously James's grandson, had contacted him. He'd insisted on getting a drink with Peter, and for reasons he really wasn't certain of himself, he'd agreed. Sera argued with him, but Peter had settled into a calm acceptance. If Albus wanted to kill him, he was free to try. If he succeeded, people would be happy. If he didn't, Peter would still be alive. But regardless, it didn't matter. He could die, and it wouldn't matter and this hell would be done.
Once in the mess hall, he took two glasses and grabbed a bottle of the alcohol that was grouped in with the other drinks. He put it all on a table, and sat, and waited.