James, Lily, Sirius, Remus and Peter all sat around the Potters' living room. James sat in the big easy chair, Lily on the side of it with James's arm wrapped 'round her hips. Peter sat in the other chair, his legs twisted criss-cross and he picked at a loose thread on the stitching of his trainers, staring down at them silently. Sirius and Remus were on the couch, Remus laying across length wise, ankles cross on the arm, head propped up on a throw pillow, and, though in human form, Sirius was sprawled like a dog across him.

They'd all been silent for sometime - it was well into the morning, and though he felt like lead James knew he had to go to Mungo's soon. Dora would be expecting him, and wanting to come home, and he really needed to check on the Longbottoms, too, but he couldn't talk himself into moving much more than to slowly, absently, trace tiny figure eights against the smooth of Lily's skin just at the top of the waistband of her trousers.

It kept playing in his head.

"Right arrogant git you are, Potter. Remember just who it was who's gotten your arse out of trouble -- ME AND MY BROTHER, WHO BY THE WAY IS THE ONLY REASON THE WHEELS ARE STILL ON THIS CURRENT OPERATION BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETE YOUR PART IN IT!" 

James closed his eyes.

He couldn't even remember the last conversation he'd had with Fabian.

"It's not your fault," Sirius said suddenly.

They all looked at him. 

He raised his head up, pushing off Remus's chest and looked at James. "I can feel it. The guilt. It isn't your fault."

James stared at him.

"Gid probably wouldn't even have remembered the fight by now, and even if he did he would've forgiven you. You lot would've made up and been alright the second you got a chance to talk. You were both hot headed and saying things and neither of you were totally wrong or totally right, it just -- it was poor timing is all. Poor timing to have a disagreement."

Remus looked up at Sirius, twisted his head 'round to look at James, then turned back to Sirius again, "What happened?"

"We had a row, Gideon and I," James said.

Peter piped up, "Sirius is right, Gideon would've forgave you."

Lily ran her hand through James's hair soothingly and bit her lips, eyes on her knees.

"He was right, I was being arrogant," James said. He closed his eyes as Lily stroked his hair, leaning into her hand. His heart felt so heavy in his chest.

"I hate Voldemort," Peter said.

All of them looked up in a slight panic at the sound of the name. Last time someone had said it amongst them - well - Regulus wasn't there to talk about it, was he? But nothing happened. Peter didn't disappear. He cowered in the seat, eyes searching the ceiling as though expecting the Dark Lord to come rappelling out of the ceiling and take him away.

Sirius's breath was shaky as he tentatively lay back down against Remus's chest, staring at Peter with a worried expression. Remus reached up and gently rubbed Sirius's back between his shoulder blades - something he'd found helped calm Sirius down when he was upset about Regulus. He felt the tension between Sirius's shoulder blades slowly loosen a bit as he rubbed along his spine.

"I do though, I hate him - I hate ... He Who Cannot Be Named," Peter squeaked, bold now that nothing had happened at the sound of the name.

"We all hate him Wormtail," Remus murmured.

Peter said, "It isn't fair."

"I know," Sirius said and he looked over at Peter with an expression of understanding which was so unlike how Sirius usually acted toward him that it gave Peter a bit of a start.

"If it's anyone's fault, it's mine," Remus said.

They all looked at Remus.

"Honey no," Lily said and she leaned forward to touch Remus's shoulder. At the touch, she realized how much anxiety Remus was feeling. His emotions were the hardest for her to feel to begin with, but on top of it she realized Sirius was soaking them up directly and her eyes met Sirius's as she got a small taste of what Remus was feeling.

"It is," Remus said. "Dumbledore said we shouldn't go - that he had everything under control - and I challenged him. I challenged Dumbledore and I said what I said... and now this."

"You were trying to save Alice," Lily said.

"And I cost us Gideon and Fabian," Remus answered, "Gideon who's got a wife and a brand new baby girl."

"Oh fuck, Dorcas is going to be heartbroken," Sirius groaned.

"The poor baby," Peter murmured, shaking his head.

"You challenged Dumbledore?" James asked Remus.

"I did," Remus said heavily, "He told Frank that the Order would move to save Alice in due time and I told him we were going to go save Alice whether he helped us or not. I said I didn't want another situation like what happened with Ned Veigler last year to happen again and -- well, look where I've landed us." Remus's voice was bleak. "Look what I've done."

James shook his head, "Rey, you didn't cause this."

"If I had just listened to Dumbledore, maybe they wouldn't be dead."

Silence fell in the room. There wasn't really any argument either way, there was no telling without a time turner exactly what might've happened and there weren't exactly time turners growing on the trees. And even if there were James wasn't sure he would dare to try at using one without Mopsus's direct instruction. He'd tried once and messed too many things up.

James looked at Sirius. Sirius's eyes were staring at him already and James looked away again, turning his eyes down and catching sight of the face of his watch. It was nearing half-nine. "I got to go and fetch mum from Mungo's," he murmured, and he pushed himself up out of the chair.

Sirius started to get up, but Remus's fingers tightened on Sirius's shirt, holding him in place. Sirius looked at Remus and Remus shook his head very slightly, telling Sirius silently to stay.

Lily watched sadly as James got up and went to the floor and pulled down the box of powder, taking out a palm full and tossing it into the hearth. "I'll be back later," he murmured and he tossed the powder into the floo and he stepped through.

Lily  got up the moment he was gone and went to he hearth. "I'm going with him," she announced, "You lot are welcome to stay here as long as you like, we won't be terribly late," and she was gone.

Silence resumed.

Peter looked 'round at the other two. "Is this what's gonna keep happening?" he asked quietly. "We're going to keep having missions and every mission You Know Who's gonna pick another one of us off, one by one, until we're all dead?" his voice rose with panic as he spoke. "Next time it'll be somebody else - Moody maybe, and the time after that it could be - it could be Minnie or Bilius or - or Lily - or James or --"

Sirius cut him off. "Bite your fucking tongue," Sirius's voice was sharp. 

"--or me." Peter finished, but Sirius was already talking over him.

"Don't you even suggest such a thing. Don't even suggest it because you say things and it gives the universe ideas. It manifests shit, you know? You say things and the Fates cackle and say what a brilliant idea, I know just what I'll do and they write it down like the terrible hags they are." Sirius shook his head, "Don't even give them the idea to take Prongs away."

Peter flushed. Of course Sirius doesn't care if it was me. Only if it was James or Lily or Remus. "But - but it's true, isn't it? That it's just going to keep happening?"

Sirius frowned.

Remus murmured, "Until someone defeats him, yes. That's exactly what is going to keep happening. One by one by one, Peter, until every one of us is either dead or turned and he's won. Or else we win. One or the other." Remus shook his head, "That's how it's always been going to happen." 

Peter's eyes were wide.

Sirius looked up at Remus with the same wide eyes as Peter, even as Remus sat up, gently pushing Sirius off him. "I have to go talk to Dumbledore," Remus said resolutely, and he rolled himself up off the couch, stepping over to the floo.

"You want me to come along?" Sirius asked, sitting up.

Remus shook his head, "I have to talk to him alone." Sirius nodded, though it was clear he didn't like it, and Remus bent down and kissed Sirius's forehead softly, square between the eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Remus."

Remus turned, then, and went out the door, headed for the curb, where he could disapparate away.

Sirius looked at Peter.

Peter looked at Sirius.

It was so rarely just the pair of them... it felt awkward and strange and Peter swallowed back nervousness as he squirmed and picked at his trainers some more, his eyes diverting from Sirius to his fingers as he pick-pick-picked.

"Hey Wormtail?"

Peter looked up at Sirius.

"I wouldn't want it to be you, either."

Peter stared at Sirius and his eyes welled up. "What?" he asked, barely daring to believe what he was hearing.

Sirius nudged closer across the couch and he held out his hand to Peter.

Peter stared at his hand.

"I wouldn't want it to be you who was killed anymore than I'd want it to be Moony or Prongs. I just want you to know," Sirius said.

Peter reached out to take Sirius's hand, "I wouldn't want it to be you either, Padfoot, I --" but the moment his fingers touched Sirius's, he felt the strangest feeling come over him...

It was like a dream or a moving being played on a film reel. 

Peter was sitting on the train.

People kept looking into his compartment and changing their mind, going to sit some place else. His trousers were a bit tight around the middle, his tie hung a little crooked, his nose pink still from crying as he said bye to his family... but he held a bag of cookies - chocolate chip ones - and every time somebody paused and looked in the door, he started to hold up the bag to tell them the benefits of sitting with him.

"Look," he would have said to anyone who gave him enough time to make the pitch, "My mum made cookies, wanna share? She makes the best cookies..."

But nobody came in.

Eventually some people did sit with him but they were older and ask they pushed their way into the compartment, they'd made a point of saying how it was the only place left on the train and how they would have to make do with this compartment, giving him looks of disdain.

Instead of sharing his cookies, Peter hid them under his robes and ate them all himself, breaking off pieces to sneak discreetly into his mouth when they were busy talking to each other and not to him. The cookies were his private secret, the real reason he couldn't talk with them was his mouth was full, and honestly if they didn't even wanna sit with him then he didn't want to share his cookies with them anyways.

And so what if the boat was wobbly and they made him sea sick so he ended up throwing up all those cookies anyways? So what?

"Where to send you... where to send you?" the Sorting Hat mused. "You'd do well in Slytherin, perhaps? Hmm... Well. Maybe not, you're not very cunning, are you? You're very good at sneaking though, very good at going by unseen. Oh, you do have a complicated future ahead of you - don't you, Peter Pettigrew? I see... I see. Well, aren't you just a little plot twist?" the hat said with a chuckle and a hesitation, then, "Yes... I see. You could be a coward. It would be easy to say that you are... the easy way to explain your future, isn't it? But I don't think that's what you are. There's more to it than that, isn't there, Peter? There always was - always will be... But isn't it true, Mr. Pettigrew, that deep down you're just as grey as I am? Best be GRYFFINDOR!" 

And he was running, scared across the Great Hall to the table and there was Sirius himself, with his funny, bucky teeth and short hair, already whispering with Remus Lupin. "Hi Peter Pettigrew, I'm Sirius Black and this is Roofus Lupin."

"Remus," Remus said.

He was sitting so close to Lily and she was shying away, even as Peter scooted closer, excited to talk to somebody who was similar enough to him that they got put into the same house and maybe, just maybe, she'd wanna be friends? 

"You're the only girl," he said to her, pointing.

Peter was handing out licorice wands, throwing the cherry red things to the other lads, grinning as they brandished them about the dormitory, playing at dueling long before they knew how.

Once upon a time, dueling was a game to play.

Once upon a time, nobody died during the duel.

He didn't know how to fly - the broomsticks were embarrassingly hard to use and the weaker, older broomsticks didn't seem like they could hardly lift him and he felt like everyone was staring at him, like everyone was gonna laugh at him if the broomstick snapped under his bum and he worried - he worried with a great big ball of worry that sat behind his ribs and jostled itself around constantly, making the mental equivalent of the sound dice make when they're clattered about in a plastic cup. Rattle, rattle, rattle, rattle! Anxiety, they called it.

"Hey, like this," James reached over and fixed Peter's placement of his hands. "It really helps steady it out when the broom shivers like that. " 

Peter was so thankful. It took James two seconds but it saved Peter a whole lot of tears and frustration... and James had done it so freely, so casually... it was like he maybe really cared.

"Please mum, could you send me some more chocolate frogs, licorice wands, and animal crackers? None of the other lads have mums that send them things," he lied so she would send more stuff so he could share his things. He lied because even though James got plenty from his parents, Peter liked being the one who had extra snacks. He liked being the one that handed out the treats to the others. There was something warm and comforting about being able to do that. Something he liked about being the one who had something to give.

Maybe because he'd never had anyone to share things with before.

And he was paid back with jokes and smiles, laughter and games - loud rounds of animal crackers sitting in pairs on his and James's beds because they were the middle most beds and Sirius sat next to James and Remus sat next to him...

It had always been James, though, that Peter so wanted to impress. Impressing Remus and Sirius was another whole challenge, but James...  James seemed to shine and all Peter wanted was to catch it and shine like that, too. What was the trick? What was the secret?

And James was definitely already Sirius's best mate. From the minute the hat shouted Gryffindor - Sirius had let out a cry of excitement and clapped then and it seemed he was always clapping for James, always rooting James on, always being supportive.

Why wasn't anyone supportive of Peter like that?  Even Remus seemed to naturally pivot himself toward Sirius like plants do to sunlight, turning their faces always to look up at it. 

"There's something funny about Remus," Sirius said.

"Like what?" Peter asked.

"Werewolf bites?!" Peter's voice was shrill, "That's a werewolf bite?" Remus's legs and arms were covered with horrific bruises and cuts. There were silver-pink scars that striped him in random places seemingly all over him - Peter had spotted them all across his back when he'd shrugged on the light fabric of his pyjamas in the dark every night.

"Were you attacked?" Sirus asked, looking horrified.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose," Remus said, flushing, "I attacked myself."

"You're a - a - a werewolf?" Peter stammered, voice shaking with nerves. "But you - oyu shoudln't be in school - the law -"

"I know all about the laws, Peter, as they're to blame for my condition in the fist place."

"But you're dangerous!" Peter squealed. "A XXXXX rated magical beast!"

"Shut up, Peter," said James.

"But he could bite any one of us!" Peter gasped, thinking it would be him.

"Peter! Shut! Up!" Sirius barked.

But what Sirius forgot was that him and James had talked some time ago about this. They'd had time to come to terms with the idea. Peter hadn't. He was finding out in real time. Sirius had forgotten that he'd had nightmares himself, that he'd had his own moment of panic.

What Sirius didn't know was that Cecil Pettigrew had told his boy nightmarish stories about Magical Creatures from the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them book, showing the pictures of the beasts in their most terrible forms, and laughingly telling spooky stories that gave Peter the chills and scared the bejebus out of him...  He didn't see Cecil telling Peter monster tales about werewolves tearing him apart to pieces... 

But it made sense.

"I don't like grindylows," third year Peter stammered, pale ad recovering from having passed out in the middle of Ned Veigler's glass. They were in the hallway and walking and he said, "We have a pond outback of our house and my dad always said it was infested with grindylows. Our cat got snatched once. He used to say if he were bad he'd chuck me and my sister in to feed them!"

What a horrible story to tell a child...

What Sirius didn't see then was what happened later that night, after they'd all gone to bed when Peter woke up during the night with a nightmare - of werewolves eating him, of course - and he lay in the dark, gasping, staring at the ceiling and whispering to himself.

"Of course he won't eat me, he's my friend, he's my friend, he might even be my best friend, or at least the friend best to me... He wouldn't, he wouldn't, my mind's tr-tricking me and --"

"I wouldn't eat you, Peter." Remus's voice came from the bed beyond his own. The springs creaked as Remus rolled over to his side to look at Peter, wincing at the pain in his body. He stared at Peter through the dark, his eyes sad and his voice even sadder, "But the wolf might, though. I - I completely understand why you're scared of me. I'm sorry the lads were - were unfair to you. I'd be afraid of me, too." 

Peter stared over at Remus through the dark. He hadn't meant for Remus to hear his words. Hadn't really meant to speak them aloud, even. But Remus's cheeks were stained with tear tracks, the cut on his cheek in a terrible relief of shadow so it looked extra jaggedy and painful. "I'm only afraid of the wolf, then," Peter said, sitting up. He hugged his knees. "I'm sorry."

Remus whispered, "I'm afraid of the wolf, too."

Peter looked at his knees, glanced toward James and Sirius, then back to Remus. "Does it - does it hurt terribly? When you - " Peter didn't know the word for what it was he did. He stared at Remus, floundering.

"When I transform?" Remus asked. Peter nodded. Remus nodded back, "Yeah I'll say. A whole lot. And they say it gets worse... that the older you get, the worse it hurts because your bones settle more when you've finished growing up." A look of concern clouded Remus's face. "I can't imagine it hurting even worse than it does now, but I suppose one day it'll be excruciating."

Peter shivered. He thought about how scared he'd be - if it was him that was a wolf. If he had to go and transform every month. He twitched nervously...

And then there was another night. Another night a year later, when Peter had again awoken from a nightmare, but this one entirely unrelated to anything else - it had been a nightmare of the sorting hat swallowing him up and him having the sensation of falling and waking up as he landed and in the dream would have gone splat - but instead found himself awake in bed. But in the dark he heard tears and he saw Remus's shoulders shaking, his back turned to the room.

"R-Remus?" Peter stammered.

He'd turned his head to look at Peter.

"Are - are you alright?" Peter asked.

Remus nodded and wiped his eyes with a sleeve-covered fist, "I'm - I'm alright. Go back to sleep."

"Are you thinking about your mum?" Peter asked.

Remus stared at him, his jaw quivered and he nodded.

"I'm sorry, Remus," Peter whispered.

Remus started crying in earnest then, and his shoulders shook as his face crumpled little puppy-dog like whimpers escaped him and Peter's heart wrenched. He hurried to roll out of bed and rushed over and leaned over the edge of the bed, flinging his arms about Remus's neck. Remus pressed his face into Peter's arm and hugged back and as he cried, Peter stared at the framed photograph of her on Remus's nightstand - something Sirius, even now, realized he'd never noticed before. 

"She was beautiful," Peter said, staring at the photo.

Remus whispered, "The most beautiful woman in the world."

Peter nodded.

A fair good amount of people would agree with Remus.

And then another night, another year... Sirius in dog form lay on his own bed across the room - the tension in the room palpable, even in the darkness. Peter lay, staring at the ceiling, and beyond him so did Remus.

Peter said into the dark, "It's going to be okay, Remus..."

"I hope so."

"It will. It has to be."

"Or, it isn't, and I lost my best friend."

Peter was quiet, then he whispered, "If he stops being your friend o-over something so - so silly as this, then..." Peter was quiet a second, then he said quickly, "Then I'll be your new best friend and I promise stuff like this wouldn't make me stop. I promise. So you - you'll have a best friend no matter what and always, okay?"

Remus had looked over and Peter did, too, and their eyes met...

The Fat Lady was smirking at Peter, fixing her large pouf of pinkish-blonde hair, pretending at ignoring him while Peter struggled for about the millionth time with the password. "The list of passwords is in my trunk," Peter said, "Let me through and I'll go get  it and bring it back to you and then I'll tell you any password you want. Please - please. Please."

"That's not the way a password works!" the Fat Lady chirped.

"Let me in!" he demanded, hot tears on his face as he banged against the portrait frame in desperation. 

"Peter!" it was Bilius Weasley. "...what's the matter?"

"It's the other First Years..." Peter trembled, "They've been awful to me. They all get along bangingly and they just... never include me. I think they'd just rather if I wasn't even here."

And guilt flooded Sirius then, as he watched this, because how many times had he thought that very thing? Especially in those younger years. How much he'd wished Peter would just - just go away... and he was flooded by a hundred thoughts and memories of himself, and of James, saying precisely that.

"Merlin's stinky socks, Pete - you aren't our bleeding shadow, go on somewhere, will you?" Sirius's voice echoed.

"Yeah, get lost Pete, we're busy," James said in that arrogant little twelve year old voice of his.

And Peter sitting on a flight of stairs, crying... crying because even though he was a Marauder, it wasn't because they chose him. 

Why wasn't he ever the one who was chosen?

But he was chosen in a way, wasn't he? He was the lucky one? He was a wizard after all.

He could've been a squib.

Like Maggie.

"Say Pete, tell me about your sister," Sirius was saying. "Why are you being dodgy?"

"She's a squib, alright? A squib!"

Sirius sat up. "A squib? You're not serious?"

Peter stared at Sirius. Part of him wanted to say the joke but he was too sad, the topic too heavy to let himself joke about it. "It runs in my family," Peter said, "Which is probably why I'm so bloody terrible at everything. I'm probably one step off from being a ruddy squid myself!"

The grin melted away from Sirius's face.

"I'm sorry mate, I didn't mean to tease you before."

"It's alright."

"Let me know if you need any help. Seriously."

"Thanks. I'll be alright, I hope."

"You will. You're not a squib. You're a very talented wizard, Peter. You just need to stop worrying so much and it'll get better, I promise. You're a Marauder, you're one of us. We're all here for you, okay?"

Peter nodded vigorously. The words meant so much to him. Sirius had had no idea then what magnitude they had in Peter's perspective, how much Peter clung to those words...

"You know what? I have something that I'd like to show you. I think it'll help. C'mon." Bilius Weasley was pulling Peter up from the stairs and leading him away through the castle.

"Where are we going to?" Peter asked.

"The kitchens," Bilius answered.

"It was hard to make friends for me," Bilius was saying, "I had to earn it... So I became the guy who brings the snacks."

That's what Peter was.

And now Bilius was best mates with Derek Bell! 

There was hope.

There was hope, and Peter's heart thrilled because to him, James was his Derek Bell.

And there was Peter, carrying back bottles of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. Carrying back bags of food - of oranges and apples and cakes and warm bread and bags of sugared pecans and sandwiches and crisps and loads of good things that the boys all shared in the dormitory, sitting about talking and playing exploding snap or gobstones or just having a lark about the grounds of the castle. Toast for Nigel, bits of dried fish for Mrs. Norris when they were out exploring under the invisibility cloak, coaxing the cat to leave them be and not alert Filch of their where abouts....

Their whereabouts -- like the prefect's toilet in Slytherin.

And there was Voldemort grinning meanly at Peter in the dark. 

"Your friends left you, Peter Pettigrew..."

And that cold, terrible voice echoed through Peter.

"But I'm a Marauder, too," Peter was telling himself - not first year Peter but years later, one of the many times the boys had forgotten Peter and he was trying to decide whether he ought to catch them up or not. "I'm a Marauder, too. I should catch them up, I should - I - they'll miss me. Won't they? Will they?" Peter shivered.

"You're one of us, Pete," Sirius's voice echoed.

But he was afraid it was just words.

Because actions speak louder than words.

And there he was, sitting in the window of his house, staring out, rucksack packed and ready... but nobody coming to get him.

He knew where they were...

But if they didn't want him there, did he want to be there?

He did.

But did he?

Did it even matter?

And he lay in his bed in his room, and no matter how much he fought the emotions, they flooded him anyway.

You're not good enough.

You've never been good enough.

Always running to keep up.

"You need to keep up," McGonagall's words echoed and Pete was sitting in her office before her desk as she peered over her half moon glasses at him. "What is going on, Mr. Pettigrew? I can see in your grades something is bothering you." 

Peter looked up at McGonagall. "Did you have loads of friends in school, Professor?"

"I had a group of friends... rather a lot like the Marauders." She paused, then looked Peter over carefully. "Is something going on... between you and your friends, Mr. Pettigrew?"

Peter stared at the desk and shook his head.

"Peter?" she tried more gently.

He looked up at her. "They went camping this summer... and - we were all supposed to go but they - they forgot to come and get me, even though they said they would and --" Peter looked down at his trainers. "I don't want to force myself on them if - if they don't want me." He started crying.

McGonagall sighed and her lips pursed in a way that Sirius recognized as Minnie getting her Minnie on - switching from Professor McGonagall to the Minnie who wrote specialized make-up exams and held broken boy wolves. The Minnie who now stood up and came 'round the desk and knelt down before Peter, who was crying, and withdrew a handkerchief and wiped Peter's tears away gently - doing that thing that good mums like Dora Potter do when they wash your face to make you feel better and Peter stared into her face, hiccoughing. 

"I am verra sorry, Mr. Pettigrew..."

But them forgetting him didn't mean he would forget them.

He couldn't.

Because even though he was afraid and a couple steps behind, Peter came through when it mattered... didn't he?

He was the one who went to help James before anyone else did. When James was gone. Peter had thrown the stones and he'd gone -- he'd been tortured for James.

"Crucio!" Voldemort's voice - the spell striking Peter so that he hit the ground, the magic coursing through him, singing in every single nerve.

The crackling pain of the cruciatus flickered around the edges of the vision and Sirius gasped - he gasped at the way it hurt. And a sudden realization jarred him.

The cruciatus that Peter felt.... felt the same as the Marauders leaving Peter behind.

And they did it to him again and again and again.

"I'll never forget you Peter," the cold, raspy voice said.

And Sirius was looking up into the eyes of a man.

Professor Gaunt. Voldemort.

"I'll never forget you, Wormtail..." and Voldemort laughed a terrible, high laugh.

And there came Mopsus's clunking, shuffling gait - his milky eyes on Peter.

The golden glow of that unbreakable vow.

Clocks and watches spinning through Peter's mind.

A Mickey Mouse watch on the wrist of James Potter.

A slight of hand, a twist of fate...

Tears of anguish, of regret.

He'd never be one of them.

He was laying in the sewers, cold and alone, afraid - a train racing past the end of the drainpipe that he was calling home these days... shivering...

"And if you ever hurt one of my friends again," Sirius's voice rang, so completely honest and truthful that there was nothing to do but know that it was truth being spoken: "I'll fucking kill you."

And Peter had wondered:

Was it a promise?

If he was forced by Voldemort - if he did something he didn't want to do... didn't mean to do...

Would Sirius truly kill him?

So he wouldn't have to do it himself?

And if he asked him...

Would he do it preemptively?

The way Remus had made them promise to kill him if he ever attacked them?

"Sirius?" Peter asked one night in the dormitory, days before the battle at Fallengunder, those tremulous, terrifying days when they were waiting for the plan to fall in motion.

Peter had woken up, panting and panicked after he'd had a nightmare, one that felt too real, one where he stood with Voldemort in a dark street, the Dark Lord's laughter trembling all around Peter as he reached for a wooden gate that squeaked when it opened.

"What?" Sirius's voice was quiet. He was tucked under Remus's arm.

"Would you kill me?"

Sirius looked over, grey eyes black in the dim light. "What? Now?"

"No. If - if I did betray - betray one of you? Would you do it?" 

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but Peter cut him off:

"Would you please do it?"

Sirius stared at him.

"In a heartbeat, Wormtail."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

The thought was so chilling that Sirius was jarred back from Peter, releasing his hand. He stared at Peter, in horror. 

Peter stared back, also in horror.

Peter shivered. "What the hell was that?" he asked, tears springing to his eyes. "What the hell was that? What did you just do to me?"

"I - I didn't --" Sirius stammered, his eyes wide with fear, feeling the panic in Peter fill himself up, feeling the anxiety and holy shit it was rather crippling.

He understood suddenly.

He understood so much he didn't think he ever could have understood.

"Oh gods Pete, you - you are one of us, though," Sirius said, and his eyes were damp with tears, "You are! And I - we never meant to forget you, Pete. We never meant to!" Sirius stood up and he went to hug Peter but Peter stood, too, and he scrambled 'round the chair, separating himself from Sirius, the upset coursing through him, the panic from the feeling he'd just had, reliving all that, seeing all that, knowing Sirius had seen it, too.

"D-don't - don't touch me! Please!" Peter begged.

"But Pete --" Sirius said.

"No, please!" Peter shook his head, "Please don't touch me, I - I don't like that. I don't like that feeling. Please. I - I ---"

"I'm sorry, Peter!" Sirius said. "I really am. You're one of my best friends and - I wouldn't want it to be you anymore than I'd want it to be Remus or James. I - I love you Pete, and I'm sorry I've been so hard on you, that I didn't understand. I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't hurt any of us - and I'd never kill you. When it came down to it I don't reckon I would have the guts to, no matter what you did to me."

Peter's face was pink with emotion and embarrassment. With fear.

"I'll do better," Sirius swore. "I'll be a better friend to you."

Peter's lip trembled and Sirius made a move to step 'round the chair - his aim to hug Peter - but Peter scrambled quickly to the door. "I have to go," he said. "I have to go."

He ran out of the house and down the walkway, fixed on getting to the disapparation point.

He couldn't explain why it upset him so much, why he didn't want Sirius to hug him, why he didn't want the apology or the pity. He just knew he didn't.

Maybe because he didn't deserve it, he thought. After all, what had he done to deserve it?

Lately, nothing. Lately, he'd stolen and cheated and lied so much that he didn't feel like he deserved to be Sirius's friend anymore. He didn't know why it felt like he'd done things that were irreversible. That made him not the same person as the little boy in the vision that Sirius had had of him - an incomplete summary - one that had been interrupted.

He didn't know why it felt too late.

But he did know that it was his own fault.

Wasn't it?

He was pushing open the gate at the street, shoving it to get out, rushing, and the hinge pulled and there was a quiet crack. It didn't break... but it started to.

That was the last time that gate opened without squeaking.

He disapparated even as Sirius came out the door onto the porch and called out, "Wormtail, I --"

Peter found himself in the alley by the flat in East London a moment later...  Surely Sirius would look for him here, though. So he ran 'round the front to the street, to the curry shop, and he burst into the front door, tears still hot on his cheeks, and Oni was sitting at one of the tables, eating a breakfast, doing some kind of paperwork for the restaurant, and she looked up in shock when Peter came running in.

"What's wrong? Peter?" she asked, worry etched on her face.

"We have to kill Voldemort," Peter choked out the words, "We have to do it. All the stuff we planned? It has to happen. We really have to do it for real or he's gonna kill us all. He's gonna kill every one of us and it'll be all my fault."

"Peter - what are you --"

"One by one everyone I love is gonna die," Peter sobbed, "And I don't want them to die. I don't want to die. I don't want my friends to die!"

Oni stood up and he rushed into her arms and sobbed against her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around him.

It was the hug he'd really needed from Sirius... but he hadn't dared to take.

Because he'd been afraid Sirius might see it all - might see him taking Regulus's portrait just like he'd taken James's watch. And it was hard enough knowing that Sirius would hate him forever without actually having to go through it actually happening.

"It's alright, Peter," Oni whispered as Peter shook in her arms