Oh, this is gorgeous. Subtle and sly and full of surprises, and one of the most persuasive, appealing, and yet disturbing portraits of Pettigrew I've ever read. This is a type of child not often seen in fiction precisely because they're so elusive, so skilled at hiding in plain sight, and their interior lives remain a mystery, as I would say Peter is to Severus here. Peter has learned to get by, completely immersing himself in his survival techniques, playing dumb, impersonating nothing, and always holding something back.
The language of this piece - the beauty and balance, the extraordinary delicacy of perception, that gift for knowing exactly the right word and placement, the sympathetic grasp of what drives loners and outsiders coupled with the scrupulous refusal to overdramatize, which leads to a heightened pathos and unease and the slow dawning of respect for the secrets folded within this tale of smart misfits seeking to leave their pasts behind - oh, there's so much quiet mastery here.
I can only snatch a brief moment today for feedback, so this is all jumbled and hasty, but I'll be back later to say more, because this is one of my all-time favorite fics for Beholder and I feel the need to explain how much I love it. /babble