Remus Lupin awoke early in the morning, the sun barely up on the edge of the horizon. Pink-gold light filtered the dusty air and turned the inside of the shack pale, like a movie filmed in sepia tones. 

He shifted under the heft of Sirius Black, who was curled about him in dog form. Snuffles, it stood to reason, would not at all suffer from losing a bit of weight - even if the boy who became him could do with gaining a bit. The dog was hot and the fur stifled Remus, so he struggled out from beneath the bulk carefully, not wanting to wake Sirius up. His limbs and muscles were still sore from the full moon's effects, and he groaned as he got up, and his bones creaked with the effort.

Remus's bones and muscles were not the only bits suffering from the wolfish night. In addition, he had several half-moon punctures along his forearms and legs, quietly oozing blood. Wolf bites, purple bruising spreading from the epicenters and the deep red veins throbbing with potential infection. "Bloody hell," he murmured. He'd thought it had been a fairly calm night, at least it had been in his mind, but apparently he had set to gnawing on himself at some point beyond his memory. He cringed as he collected his wand from the mantel, before staggering to the kitchen.

With a flick of his wand, Remus repaired a couple of the broken chairs and sat, wincing as his knees bent and more blood trickled down his leg, a side effect of the flesh moving as he walked. "Accio medical box," he murmured, and from the counter top came the little box that the boys had put together for just such occasion as Remus's post moon injuries. He set to work at mending himself then, keen on cleaning up before Sirius woke up and would dramatically fawn over the bruises and bites. It was easier, Remus had decided long ago, to simply administer the fix himself before Sirius saw the damages.

Using a spell for a warming salve that Ned Veigler had taught him over the summer. The salve wasn't as thick and helpful as something concocted by Madam Pomfrey, of course, but it did ease the pain a bit, and Remus was glad for it. He only wished he had some aconite tea to ease the grinding of his innards as they resettled themselves into human form.

The salve reminded him of Ned Veigler's presence the night before. As Remus wound the gauze strips about his wounds, he wondered what the purpose of all the werewolves in Hogsmeade had been. Remus was only more concerned when he recalled that Ned had not been the only one accompanying the werewolves at the Hog's Head pub, but so had Mr. Scamander, Dumbledore, Professors McGonagall and Urquart, and - with a shiver of distaste he recalled - so had Frek and Garm.

What had been the purpose of the wolves being brought to Hogsmeade? Remus wondered. It had been gnawing at him (nearly as much as he had been gnawing at himself, apparently, he thought in annoyance) ever since he'd caught the scent of them. He'd desperately wanted to discuss it all with the boys and Lily, but by the time they'd gotten back to the Shrieking Shack, Sirius had become terribly self-absorbed in the obsession of his empty stomach and had become impossible to discuss anything at all with. By the time Peter had returned with the food to satiate Sirius's growling and grumbling, there wasn't enough time for speculation before Remus's transformation had begun.

Remus sighed and gagged loudly on the scent of the salve, and he dropped his wand onto the table. The smell was so awful. He felt a rush of anger well up in him. A teenage boy shouldn't have to know a spell for a salve like this, he thought. A teenage boy shouldn't be suffering in pain like this, shouldn't be aching and bleeding and — He felt a great swell of self hatred pool in his belly and he kicked the chair he was using to hold the medic kit. The chair fell backwards, the medic kit falling, bursting, and the contents flying about the kitchen. The spool of gauze hit the floor, spinning and rolling across the floor until it struck the toe of Peter's trainers as he had just stepped in the door.

"You don't need to take your crossness out on the medic kit," Peter said matter of factly, bending to pick up the spool of gauze.

"Sorry, Pete," Remus said, sighing the tension from his nerves.

Peter started rewinding the gauze. He walked over and used his wand to clear up the mess and tucked the pieces back into the box before sitting down on the second chair beside Remus. "What's the matter, Moony?" he asked gently, concern in his eyes as he looked up at his mate.

Remus pursed his lips, trying to consider how to word the frustration he felt in a way that would make sense. "I don't know Wormy," he said, shaking his head. Suddenly the weight of everything seemed to sink into Remus's countenance. He covered his face and leaned forward, his throat tight with emotion. The smell of the salve and the feeling of burning, aching muscles was as heavy as the knowledge that no matter what happened, he, Remus, would never be a regular teenage boy - or a regular man for that matter. He would always be a werewolf, forever, and it would effect everything that he did for all his life - his day to day life, from the relationship that he and Sirius would have and the family that he could build to the sort of jobs he could take and the opportunities he could ever have. It was a stroke of pure luck that he was even at Hogwarts - only because of the mercy of Dumbledore, really. Remus could very well have gone on the rest of his life locked away in the shelter behind the Lupin house. His eyes traced over the salve and gauze wrapped about his arms and legs. "I just —" Remus drew a deep, shaking breath. "Do you ever feel... worthless? As though no matter what you do, you'll always be... just... just you?"

Peter couldn't help himself. He laughed.

Remus looked bewildered, "It isn't funny," he said defensively.

Peter shook his head, trying to sober up, and finally did, saying, "Oh I know it isn't funny, rather its ironic. You're asking me - Peter Pettigrew - if I've ever felt worthless?" Peter's eyes gleamed with sad frustration. "You've just described my entire bloody life!"

A splash of guilt rushed through Remus as he stared at Peter's round face. It was true, of all the words in the world that he could've used to gain the sympathy and understanding of Peter Pettigrew, Remus realized, he'd probably struck the best one. Not because he believed Peter to be worthless, he thought in a quickly self-defensive reaction to the look on the other boy's face, but because the others often made Peter out to be worthless. Peter had worth, Remus thought, stubbornly continuing on with the defense. Of course he had! Everybody did, by default of being alive, of course. 

Peter stared at Remus, waiting for him to speak.

Remus's throat was quite restricted, however, and he coughed and looked back down at the bandages because, Remus realized, it was easier to look at those than it was to look Peter Pettigrew in the eyes.

"It's alright," Peter said after the pause had drawn on too long. "I'm very much aware that you all think it. Even you. I don't mind... I - we're still mates. I still care about you. And... and even if I'm worthless, you still care about me, too, don't you?"

Remus looked up. "Of course I care about you, Peter." And, finally, though it sounded lame and too late now, he added, "And I don't think you're worthless, Pete. I really don't. You've got loads of talent. It's just in stuff that's different than the rest of us, and... and maybe we don't always understand it and we sort of overlook it because of that." This was true enough, Remus thought of Peter with his Divination skills and how Sirius often jabbed at the talent, though it really was a rather amazing talent, and Peter was easily the top of the class in Divination. Remus continued, "It isn't right of us - any of us - to make you feel worthless, ever."

Peter shrugged, then, kindly, "I hate that you feel that you're worthless, Moony." His eyes were watery and sad, "You're so good at everything, and you're so very important to Sirius and James and I. You're like the glue that holds the rest of us together." He smiled, "We wouldn't be Marauders without you." Then his smile deepened, "For Merlin's sake, I doubt whether Sirius would even know what the word means."

At that moment - two things happened at once.

First, Peter reached forward to touch Remus's knee and his jumper sleeve slunk up ever so slightly and upon his wrist - for safe keeping while he was out of the dormitory for so long as they'd been planning to be during the full moon - hung the Mickey Mouse watch. Remus's eyes flashed recognition as they lighted on it, and they turned upward to meet Peter's - the question already in them - and he had just started to open his mouth when the second thing happened.

"Of course I blood would know what the word Marauders means," Sirius's voice was suddenly booming through the kitchen, his big leather boots clunking, untied, around his ankles as he stepped in. "I'm not daft."

Remus was still staring at Peter, the moment passed but not forgotten or overlooked, and Peter flushed and looked up at Sirius, "I didn't say you were daft. I was just saying that Remus is important! And he is!"

"The most important of all the important things," Sirius agreed with an almighty tone to his voice. He clunked over and wrapped his arms around Remus's neck from behind, kissing his hair with a loud smack of his lips and clung to his head as though it were a life preserver. "I'd be dead if it wasn't for you, Moonpie."

Remus muttered, "Because I have saved your arse multiple times over."

"Because I would be worthless without you," Sirius corrected, tugging Remus's hair and forcing his face back into a kiss rather reminiscent of their very first.

Peter, feeling panic in every nerve of his body, which was flushed hot from head to toe, saw his opportunity to escape. He quickly scrambled to get up from the chair, knocking over the medic kit again. "Oops," he muttered, "I've just - just remembered something - gotta get done," and he hurried out of the room, leaving the spinning spool of gauze on the floor of the Shack as Sirius's mouth pressed again Remus's.

He was in the tunnel, running as quickly as a rat can run, his feet scampering over the uneven ground, ducking under high knots of tree root, and over stones, his tail dragging through the muddish dirt. He could feel the cool of the tunnel all around him, cooling the flush in his skin that had carried over even to his rat form. It was not until he was nearly half of the way back to Hogwarts castle without either Remus or Sirius following him, that he paused to catch his breath. He sat in the darkness, trembling, and seeing a ghost of Remus Lupin's eyes in his mind.

How in bloody hell was he to explain this?

Could he tell Remus the truth about the watch, about Voldemort?

Would Remus believe him, even if he did?

Peter trembled, and popped back into a boy, sitting with his back against the tunnel wall. He drew his wand. "Lumos," he whispered and the tip lighted up and he clutched it between his teeth, moving his arm to pull back the jumper sleeve and stare at the watch. The mouse stared back at him, grinning as his little mousey arms moved jerkily around the face. 

Do you ever feel worthless? As though no matter what you do, you'll always be just you?

Remus's question echoed in Peter's mind as he stared at the watch.

Did he ever feel worthless! What a stupid question to ask Peter Pettigrew. Of course he felt worthless. He was worthless.

Tears filled Peter's eyes. He brought his finger to Mickey Mouse's arm and held the little hand with his fingertip. The tears streamed down his face... and he felt his heart seize as the hand struggled against his grip...

Perhaps, Peter thought, he wouldn't have to explain having the watch to Remus or anyone else (for surely by now he'd told Sirius what he'd seen).

Perhaps, Peter thought, he wouldn't have to face the Dark Lord ever again.

Perhaps, he'd just hold that little mouse hand until the watch stopped working. Until his heart stopped working. Until everything ended and he didn't have to be worthless anymore.

But even as he thought the words, the watch face glowed white-hot and burned his hand, forcing him to release it. He gasped for air, the watch ticking onward resolutely, and clutched at his chest, his heart racing to catch up with the past few moments that it had been stopped.

"You can't even kill yourself correctly," Peter mumbled angrily, hot tears staining his face. "You're even worthless at that!" And he quickly rolled his sleeve back down, popped back into a rat, and continued on his scurrying journey through the tunnel, back toward Hogwarts, desperate to pretend that the last couple moments had never happened... for even as he thought about it, he felt ashamed.

It never once occurred to him that perhaps Mopsus, the keeper of time, hadn't allowed him to kill himself for a reason... that maybe, perhaps, Peter Pettigrew  would one day prove that he wasn't so worthless after all.