A/N: Written for 15minuteficlets. Word: Abandonment.

Abandonment, by cyanide blue

He can't fucking breathe.

Well, that's overdramatic--he can breathe, of course, but it's just a little difficult, is all. He tries to stop the frantic sobbing, some part of his mind saying are you mad, boy? and the rest agreeing yes, yes you are.

Because there is no way that what he's seeing before him could really be real.

He reaches out, touches the edge of the pool of blood with his first finger, yanks his hand away quickly as he feels the wetness--and all the more disturbing, the warmth. He raises his finger to eye level, shaking all the more when he sees the truth.

This was, what did he call it? Ah, yes, an initiation. Such a divorced term, so devoid of meaning. No, that's not quite right--it means a new beginning. A new beginning without pranksters and beautiful goddesses of girls that he can't touch, without being looked down on, without being the forgotten one.

He sympathized with the boy lying on the floor dead, before, even though he shouldn't have. He was, after all, a Slytherin, a prat, constantly tormenting his only friends. The damned bastard deserved it... deserved it for betraying his Master, as well.

The Master that will soon be his.

Still, he's not immune to murder quite yet, but there's a spark of triumph not only for compensating that bastard for what he did to his friends, but for doing something without his friends.

He's a free man, crying over slavery.

Peter scrambles up from the floor, only half-crying now, and barely avoids slipping on the blood. He pulls the knife out of the back of his mate's younger brother.

This is what abandonment can do, to a desperate man.