Disclaimer: I don't own a thing I'm afraid

'Prongs,' Peter muttered quietly to his friend. James looked up instantly. 'I think I'll slip out, alright? My mother isn't feeling too well at the moment, she asked me to call round when I got the chance.'

Liar. Liar.

'Yeah, no bother,' James said easily. 'Take care of yourself, right?'

Peter nodded and James turned back to where Sirius and Lily were arguing over who should play with Harry next and Remus watched with mild amusement. 'See ye lads,' he called, making his way out of the little cottage in Godric's Hollow.

'Where are you going?' Remus asked quickly, and Peter saw the mistrust in his eyes. Remus was the only one of the Marauders who didn't trust him. And lucky for that too…

'Just down home to see if my mum needs anything.'

Liar. Liar.

Remus nodded slowly. Peter knew he still didn't trust him and wasn't surprised. However, Peter also knew that James and even Sirius didn't trust Remus anymore. Peter left the house, walked quickly through the little square of Godric's Hollow and out to a quiet place to Disapparate. He tried not to dwell on what he was about to do. That would ruin everything. To distract him, he took note of the fat orange pumpkins smiling sinisterly at him from the windows of a small bungalow. Halloween was in just two days.

Peter hated Disapparation, never quite able to shake the fear of being splinched and left for dead without some vital body part. However, now was hardly the time trivial fears. He had something far more important to attend to.

CRACK!

He was shaking when he appeared outside the Malfoy Manor. He hated this place. He hated the snow white peacocks. He hated the rich and overly decadent interior. He hated the people that sat inside talking of murder and laughing of torture. But mostly, he hated himself for being there at all.

He hurried up the sweeping drive, head down, eyes on his shoes. It wasn't long before he was knocking on the ridiculously huge doors, though he was hardly aware of how he got there. He felt he was walking in a dream. Surely he couldn't be doing this? This was something that you heard people do. This was something other people do. This wasn't something Peter Pettigrew did.

Except it was.

Ludicrously quickly, Peter was standing alone in a dark room, lit only by a dwindling fire in a monstrously large fireplace. He was still shaking, trembling uncontrollably now. He kept his gaze on the expensive carpet underfoot, trying to return his breathing to normal. He hoped fervently that Bellatrix wouldn't come in and talk to him. He hated it when she talked.

A moment later, the door in the right hand corner of the room opened, ominously slowly. And in walked the most dangerous wizard of all time. Peter's breath caught in his throat. He reminded himself, when- when they are dead, you will have power, you will be respected. That's why you're doing this.

Liar. Liar.

No. No, that wasn't why he was doing this. He was doing this because - just like at Hogwarts when the Slytherins bullied him - he was afraid. He was afraid and he didn't know what else to do.

'I believe,' the Dark Lord began in a low, almost snake-like voice,' that you have some…information for me.'

Peter gulped nervously and nodded quickly. 'I do. I do.'

'I am told, that you know where the Potters are. I am told that you have been appointed as their Secret Keeper.'

'Yes, yes they- they made me-'

'Well? Where are they?' Voldemort demanded impatiently.

'They're-…they're in…Godric's Hollow,' Peter breathed.

'Yes.' Voldemort's thin lips curved into what was intended to be a smile.

'I- oh god…' Peter whispered, eyes wide as he realised properly what he had done. He had effectively killed his best friends in the entire world. He knew he shouldn't have done that. He knew he should have fought.

Liar. Liar.

He also knew, that he would do no such thing. That he never would. He would live, and die, a useless, fearful rat.

___________

'You told us your daddy was an Auror,' one of the children accused.

'Yeah. Well I asked my mummy,' another informed him cruelly. Little Peter felt his story crumbling. 'She says your daddy is a good for nothing rat who got locked up for robbing people's hard-earned money.'

The eight year old even said it in the same tone of voice his mother must have used. As the other children began to join in the cruel taunting, Peter felt tears building up in his eyes.

'Liar. Liar,' they chanted over and over.

'He is not! He isn't! My daddy's a good man!'

'Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.'

Peter clapped his hands over his ears and tried to run away. The circle closed in around him.

'Liar. Liar.'

___________

'James! Lily! Sirius, how could you!'

Liar. Liar.

'Sorry Padfoot,' Peter murmured quietly. The last thing he saw, before the white hot pain blinded him and he ran down into the sewers, was the confused but still livid face of one of his best friends.

AN: ok, not meant to be Peter bashing at all! Written for Kitty East's 25 Challenge, the prompt was 'Liar Liar'. Hope you liked it! Please leave a review!