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Running Close to the Ground, by After the Rain. Gen, novella-length. "They call themselves the Death Eaters’ Drinking and Cynicism Society. They are bored, world-weary, damaged men, too resentful to obey without question and too afraid to rebel. One of them spends his nights dreaming of the past as he waits for the order to kill the last of his childhood friends. His name is Peter Pettigrew. And he still has a touch of the old Marauder in him." This is the first story I've read that makes me like Peter, and it does it without revising canon.
"For fifteen years I tended the flames of resentment, and then I woke one morning to find they'd burnt themselves out and I had nothing left to do but sweep out the ashes. You can't go on hating the dead, so there isn't anybody left to hate except myself."
"For fifteen years I tended the flames of resentment, and then I woke one morning to find they'd burnt themselves out and I had nothing left to do but sweep out the ashes. You can't go on hating the dead, so there isn't anybody left to hate except myself."
