Pity for Peter
Grimmauld place was slowly suffocating her, Hermione was sure of it. Ever since learning about Regulus, Sirius had become a husk of himself. The older man hadn’t left his dead baby brother’s room in over a week, refusing to open the door for anyone other than Remus and Kreacher.
Without Sirius to duel and distract her, and with Harry doing his best to not be in the same room as her, Hermione was alone. Luna tried a few times, but her words always struck to deep and left Hermione unsettled, and nice as Neville was to look at they didn’t have anything to say to one another. Mostly everyone else in the house did their very best to pretend she didn’t exist.
It was probably why she’d practically lept on the opportunity to leave the oppressive walls of the building before they closed in on her completely.
Her salvation came in the form of -once again- Nymphadora Tonks.
“I’m going on a reconnaissance mission, and Remus says I need a partner.” The older witch declared when she waltzed into Hermione’s room without knocking.
Hermione wondered why Tonks wanted her. She wasn’t even truly a member of the Order, surely there were other people better suited to an Order mission.
She certainly wasn’t going to point that out to the other witch though, Tonks had just offered her a chance to get out of this wretched house.
“And he told you to take me ?” She questioned disbelievingly.
“Nope. He said I could take whoever I wanted, and I figured choosing you would piss him off the most.” Tonks smirked mischeviously at that, causing Hermione to laugh. She might’ve been a Tonks by name, but it was easy to see that the despite her Hogwarts colours being yellow and black, her heritage provided her with a Slytherin side.
“When do we leave?” She asked, trying her best to conceal her excitement at the prospect. Tonks either didn’t catch onto or chose to ignore the slightly breathless quality of her voice, nor how she wrapped her fingers around her wand in anticipation.
“Now, the intel we’re going on is good but it’s got an expiration date.”
“Alright, can I have five minutes to change?” She was wearing the same baggy cargos and jumper she’d been given that first day, and as much as she liked the way the clothes swallowed her a bit and hid her scars, they were not appropriate to wear out of the house in the middle of a war.
–
Three and a half minutes later, Hermione was dressed and appraising herself in the mirror. The outfit she’d been given was something else entirely. It wasn’t auror robes like Tonks, or basic combat gear like Harry.
No, Sirius had gifted her a pair of dragon hide trousers and a matching jacket. Both of the pieces had actual dragon scales constructed into it to form a magical backplate and chest plate, as well as ones that were strategically placed over areas that when struck would be fatal like her femoral and radial arteries, as well as her achilles’ tendons and all the way around her wand arm. It was genius really, dragon scales were impervious to magic.
She could tell the scales were from a Chinese Fireball by their deep red colour, which when mixed with the skiny black of the dragon hide gave the appearance that she’d been dipped in blood.
Strapping her wand holster around her thigh and making sure the tight plait she’d put her hair in wouldn’t come loose, Hermione left to find Tonks in the floors below.
The two witches made it out of the house and past the ward without encountering anyone who might’ve questioned the pairing. Once they were free to apparate, Tonks grabbed hold of Hermione’s shoulder and spun them both into nothingness.
It wasn’t until they were already compressed between time and space that Hermione realized she didn’t actually know where the two were going, or what they were to do when they got there.
They rematerialized inside a rather shabby looking building, it’s interior bare with the exception of a single overhead lightbulb, and a chair in the center of the room. The only notable thing about the place was the fact that tied to that chair was none other than Peter Pettigrew. The rat-like man’s eyes widened in terror as they popped into existence in front of him.
“What-” Hermione started to ask the auror, but she honestly had no idea what question to even start with.
“We’ve been getting letters from someone in Riddle’s circle for a few months now, we don’t know who it is other than the fact that they go by the pen name Ophelia. All today’s letter said was that there would be something of interest to us at this location.” Tonks shrugged carelessly, wandering away from her and casting warding spells as she went.
Pettigrew was obviously silenced, Hermione could see the way his vocal chords stretched under the skin of his throat as he shouted uselessly.
“What are we supposed to do with him?” She asked once she got over her initial shock at seeing the traitorous man. He was the reason Harry’s parents died, the reason Sirius wound up in Azkaban and Harry was shipped off to the Dursley’s, the man who attacked Harry with a knife to bring back his lord.
Staring at the vile, pathetic Death Eater; Hermione was reminded of every bruise she’d noticed on Harry over the years when he’d come back to school, of every time he flinched at loud noises and horded food due to years of being starved. She was reminded of how Harry had sobbed over Cedric’s body and how long it had taken for the tendons in his arm to heal enough to hold a wand again.
The edges of Hermione’s vision tinged red in righteous fury, and she could feel her magic leaking out of her towards his bound form.
“We’re supposed to dose him with veratiserum and get as much as we can out of his pathetic brain before obliviating him and cutting him loose.” Tonks said casually, turning back to Hermione with an evil glint in her eye. Her magic rioted at the idea of letting Pettigrew go, she wanted him to suffer. Wanted him to hurt a thousand times more than he’d hurt Harry.
It was like Tonks could read her thoughts. The woman patted her pockets, looking back to her with feigned distress.
“Oh no” she said tonelessly “it would seem as if I’ve forgotten to bring the veritaserum.” Tonks’ expression was a bit feral around the edges, the truth of her Black blood making itself known from underneath her Hufflepuff exterior. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione watched as Peter visibly relaxed, slouching back in his seat.
“Oh dear,” Hermione said in mock sympathy, playing along “well, I wouldn’t want the Order to think I’d come up short on my very first mission” she continued thoughtfully, pretending to think for a solution. Peter stiffened, shuffling nervously as much as the ropes allowed him to. “I’m sure with such an extenuating circumstance such as this, Remus and Moody would be understanding if we felt the need to take matters into our own hands.”
It seemed like her careless use of high-ranking Order member names sealed Pettigrew’s fate in his mind, he started to fight against his bindings with renewed vigour.
Tonks hummed thoughtfully, comically tapping her forefinger to her chin. It took all of Hermione’s self control not to laugh.
“I personally don’t condone torture, being an auror and all” the metamorphagus responded. “You however, are not an auror, and seeing as you aren’t technically a member of the Order of the Phoenix, I have no authority to try and stop you.” With a parting venomous look at Pettigrew, Tonks wiggled her fingers in a wave and waltzed out of the room, leaving Hermione alone with the bound wizard.
–
Shortly after Tonks left, Hermione had removed the silencio from Pettigrew. She wanted to hear the man’s screams, wanted to relish in them as she exacted revenge on Harry’s behalf.
This being her first foray into torture, Hermione took her time with the man. She’s started with his fingernails, something she remembered seeing in a movie years ago. She delighted in the way they’d so effortlessly slide off his fingers and the way he screamed when each one fell to the floor. He didn’t start begging until she’d gotten into the blasting curses though. She’d been very careful, concentrating them just right so they would hit hard enough to crush bone and bruise flesh, but not so hard that the rat would start bleeding internally and possibly die before she was through with him.
After a while, she’d gotten creative, burrowing little holes straight through him with a kitchen knife she’d found. Hermione was careful to only carve where she knew there were no vital organs or arteries. She snorted at her own little joke of making the rat look like a fleshy piece of swiss cheese.
“You know Wormtail,” she mentioned conversationally “Harry used to live under the stairs at his Aunt and Uncle’s house.” He whimpered half-consciously as she poked her wand straight through a hole in his shoulder, watching it come out the other end with a morbid fascination. “It’s true, he showed me a memory of it one time.” She pulled her wand out carelessly, smiling as the rough edges scraped along the raw flesh, causing his body to jerk.
“They used to lock him in there for days at a time, leaving him to cry and scream and rip his fingers bloody as he tried to claw himself out of there.” She poked one of his bloody fingertips to emphasize her point.
There was no response, Pettigrew had stopped being able to form actual words well over an hour ago.
“He’s still afraid of the dark you know? Sometimes the bulb under the stairs would burn out and he’d be left there unable to see until the Muggles remembered him again and thought to check he was still alive.”
A simple blinding curse later and Hermione took his sight from him, let him be terrified and unable to see like Harry was.
“Don’t worry,” she added, as though he may actually be concerned. “They’ll be getting a visit from me real soon.” Hermione had grown bored of this game, it was no longer fun with Pettigrew barely even coherent enough to register the pain let alone her words. “Have fun in Hell, tell Albus Dumbledore I say hi.” With that she sent a killing curse directly at his chest without hesitation. Pettigrew’s body went limp in his restraints, the light leaving his eyes once and for all.
With a satisfied smile, she cast an incendio to get rid of the body before she made her way out to find where Tonks had wandered off to.
Turns out the auror was just beyond the doorway, casually lounging on a chaise that looked like it hadn’t been disturbed in a decade prior to today. At her entrance, the older woman stood and stretched out her stiff muscles before offering Hermione her arm to pop them home.
“Get anything good out of him?” Tonks asked disinterestedly.
“He wasn’t much for conversation I’m afraid.” Was Hermione’s response, they both knew this wasn’t a reconnaissance mission -despite Tonks original words- this was revenge. This was Tonks giving Hermione the opportunity to dole out her own brand of justice as she saw fit. Hermione would have to thank her somehow soon, Ophelia too for delivering the man to her on a silver platter.
The two witches exchanged matching wicked grins before they swirled into nothingness, leaving the building to burn down with the rat’s body inside.
–
Unfortunately for Hermione, Harry had decided that the best time to finally break his vow of silence towards her was the exact moment she stepped foot back into number 12 Grimmauld place.
He was waiting for her just inside the front door, wand in hand and a half-crazed look on his face. Tonks made quick work of slinking away from the pair before she could be pulled into anything.
“Where have you been ?” He asked hysterically, taking in her appearance with wide eyes that roved up and down her body multiple times. At first, Hermione thought he was shocked at her attire, it was much more form fitting than anything she’d dawned since her prison break.
When she looked down though, she realized the look on his face wasn’t appreciation or even shock.
No, it was horror.
Horror because Hermione’s clothes no longer needed to make her look like she’d been dipped in blood, now she was actually dripping in it. Beads of it rolled down the smooth armour, pooling in the dips and bends of the fabric. She could feel it damp in her hair and drying across her face and neck too. Her hands were literally red with it, it caked under her fingernails and dried bits cracked and flaked off when she flexed her fingers.
Her mouth dried at the look in his eyes, but Hermione couldn’t find an ounce of guilt for what she’d done anywhere in her heart. Pettigrew had been the one to force this horrid fate of The Chosen One on Harry just as much as Dumbledore and Riddle, he’d deserved every minute of agony she’d caused him, if not more.
“Hermione what have you done?” Harry’s words shot through her like a curse, but she would not flinch. Hermione would not feel sorry for what she’d done. Especially not when she’d done it for him.
“I did what I needed to Harry.” She didn’t want to elaborate, she knew he wouldn’t approve. Harry was good. Too good. He might be a soldier in the midst of a war, but he’d always have a Gryffindor heart of gold.
“Who’s blood is that?” He looked like he was in physical pain the longer he stared at her. Everytime more blood ran off her body and into the growing puddle at her feet, it seemed like more drained from his face.
“Petter Pettigrew’s.” He opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione walked up to him and physically stifled his words with her hand. “And before you say a single word Harry, he deserved it. He’s the reason your parents died, he is the reason Riddle is back and so many people are dead. He’s the reason you didn’t get to grow up with James and Lily Potter, or even Sirius Black. He took it all away from you for no other reason than he was jealous of his very best friends. Nobody like that deserves to live.”
His eyes shone emerald with unshed tears, whether at her words or at her she didn’t know. She removed her hand from his mouth, leaving behind a bloody red handprint on his pale face. It spoke to his emotional state that Harry didn’t even register that his cheeks and mouth were caked in Pettigrew’s blood.
“That’s not what the Order stands for Hermione.” He tried, but his words rang weak. There was no fight behind them. Harry might not have the stomach for what she’d done, but it seemed he couldn’t bring himself to be well and truly upset about it.
“Well thats too fucking bad Harry. You lot broke me out of Azkaban knowing full well I was probably a bit mad. You said it that very first night Harry I’m batshit crazy and a murderer . The Order wanted a weapon to turn the tide of the war.” She took a step back and threw her arms out in a mimicry of a flourish. “Here I am. This is the reality of what your precious Dumbledore wanted when he asked for my help. Don’t get queasy on me just yet, the fun has just begun.”