Maryrose Jenkins had pale lavender hair, short and pixie-like, when she approached the sofa where Wendy Brighton sat, reading a book in the Hufflepuff common room. Wendy's black hair was curly and chin-length, and her face a pinkish and round. She had freckles and a smattering of acne on her chin and the edges of her cheeks that no spell or potion could seem to rid for her. She was studying, using her wand to highlight certain lines and biting her tongue in concentration. Maryrose leaned over the back of the sofa and tapped Wendy on the shoulder, making her look up.

"Hello Maryrose," Wendy said cheerfully, and she lay her wand on the book as a marker and smiled up to give Maryrose her full attention.

"Hullo Wendy," Maryrose said.

"Would you like to study with me?" Wendy offered, waving to the empty half of sofa beside her. She held up her book, enticing, "Herbology."

"No, thank you," Maryrose answered, "I just came over to tell you that Peter Pettigrew is looking for you. He's in the corridor."

Wendy sat up, "He is? At this hour?" She glanced at the clock. "Something must be the matter... Oh but Filch will be after him!" And she magicked a marker to leave in the book, rolling up off the sofa rather clumsily, nearly tripping over the excess material in her pyjama slacks and hugging her jumper closer 'round her.

"You know that lot pays no heed to rules," laughed Maryrose, "Him or the other Marauders."

Wendy nodded, "True enough. Hey could you bring my book to the dormitory when you go? I'd better go check on Peter."

"Of course," Maryrose smiled and waved her wand to bring the book to her, hugging it to her chest. She stopped Wendy a moment before she could dash off and tucked stray hair behind her ear. "There you are."

Wendy smiled, "Thanks Maryrose!" and hurried for the door to the common room.

Indeed, Peter was in the corridor and he looked quite distraught, pacing and wringing his fat little hands as he walked back and forth, waiting. Wendy stumbled into the hall and when he spotted her, grateful tears filled his eyes and he hurried over to her, tossing his arms about her and pulling her into a hug.

Wendy hugged him back tightly, their round faces touching and his nose tucked into her curls. "Oh Peter," she said, feeling his sadness as he clung onto her, "What's the matter? What is it?"

"My friends think I'm stupid," Peter choked the words out, shaking a bit with them, "They think I'm an idiot and - and I'm afraid that they're right."

Wendy petted his head gently, "No, no, Peter, you aren't an idiot, you aren't. You're very brilliant in many ways, and I think you're terribly smart. Maybe not about the same things as they are, but we all have our strengths and weaknesses, don't we?"

Peter's face was soaked with tears. "I just - want - to - to be good enough - for - for -" but he couldn't finish the sentence.

"You are good enough," Wendy said, "More than, even. You are one of my favorite people on the whole Earth, Pete."

He snuffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Yeah?" he asked, "Am I?"

Wendy smiled and nodded. "You are!"

Peter smiled too. "You really reckon that I'm not an idiot?"

"I really do! Do you think my favorite person would be an idiot? Come now." Wendy kissed his cheek softly, her palm on his slanted chest. "I think they just don't appreciate you for how bloody special you are - and they ought to! You are special, Peter!"

Peter smiled and pulled her back into a hug. "You're special, too, Wendy."

She snuggled against him, "Thanks, Peter." She curled her fingers into his jumper and breathed in his smell - something like butter and warm bread, and the soap the elves washed their things with.

There came the echo of a meow down the corridor and Peter looked down the way he'd come from to see the shadow of Mrs. Norris approaching. "C'mon," Wendy said, about to pull Peter off down the corridor to avoid being caught.

"Don't be silly," Peter said, "This way." And he pulled her a couple steps and through a tapestry, into a secret passageway that the Marauders had mapped. She looked about in surprise as he pulled her along, and held onto her hand tightly until they came to a small, dark room, where the tunnel dead ended.

"Lumos," whispered Peter, and his wand illuminated the room.

It wasn't until that moment, standing alone in what appeared to be a forgotten storage closet full of rolled tapestries and linens and such, that Wendy realized she was wearing a pair of flannel pyjama slacks and a strappy shouldered top to match under her too-big house jumper. She tugged the jumper closer 'round her middle, though being a round-ish girl it was a bit difficult to find the extra material. She flushed and said, apologetically, "You caught me just before I was headed to bed."

Peter was looking at the pyjama bottoms indeed, but not in disapproval, as she thought. He swallowed a lump growing in his throat. "I rather like them, actually," he said, "They look..." and he searched his mind for an adjective, finally landing on, "Comfortable."

Wendy nodded, "They are."

"Well, very good," Peter replied. He looked away because he was sure he was looking too long and he glanced back the way they'd come through the tapestry and the passageway. He laughed, "Old Filch'll be looking all over for us."

"This is brilliant," Wendy admitted.

"Yeah," Peter said. "My mates and I found loads of places like this - all over the castle. There's one -- well, I'll show you sometime." He'd been about to tell her about the one to the store room at Honeydukes and thought better of it. He'd save that one for a date surprise. He smiled at her quietly, trying to keep his eyes off from staring at her too long.

Wendy seemed to be doing the same thing to him.

Finally, their eyes locked.

"Hey Peter?" Wendy asked.

"Yeah?" Peter replied.

Wendy said, "I wasn't just saying it - before, when you asked me about if I thought you were an idiot? I don't. I really don't. I really do think you're brilliant." She took his hands.

Peter looked down at her hands, and his cheeks were a little pink with the compliment and pride and he muttered, "Nawh, I'm not."

"You are, take credit where it's given, Peter!" Wendy said sternly.

"Well then you're the only person that thinks that," Peter said.

"I'm sure not."

"Well - don't be."

Wendy shook her head, "Your friends must all think you're brilliant." 

"Oh them least of all," Peter replied with a snort.

"Then they aren't real friends," Wendy said matter-of-factly.

Peter looked uncomfortable.

"Real friends wouldn't tear you down, Peter," Wendy said gently. "They wouldn't say things that made you feel less than brilliant."

He stared at their fingers, twisting them together like a game of Jacob's Ladder. "I don't suppose they mean it."

"They say it," Wendy said, "Which is even more terrible if they don't really believe it and they say it anyway, just to hurt you."

Peter didn't have words to speak.

Wendy squeezed his fingers with hers. 

"So... so what you mean is that I don't have any real friends," Peter's voice was fighting not to crack.

Wendy shook her head, "No - no. I don't mean it like that... I just..." but she realized she sort of did and she stopped speaking. There wasn't much to say to backtrack it, and even if, as terrible as it made her feel it did ring as true. "I mean to say that I'm sure that any one of them would take a curse for you, but they've just got their day-to-day priorities rather skewed is all. Please don't cry, Peter. I'm sorry." Wendy's eyes were moistening just seeing tears slip from Peter's eyes as he did start to cry and she pulled him close, petting his head. "The real ones would never do that to you. That's really how you can tell the good from the evil - how people treat others, you know? A good friend would never turn their back on you or treat you poorly."

"You're - you're my real friend, Wendy," Peter murmured, and his arms tightened about her waist.

 James was asleep in the dormitory by the time Peter arrived back. Peter was surprised to see he'd beaten Remus and Sirius back, though he suspected very much that the pair of them were probably curled up around one another somewhere. And of course they were - all they cared about was each other! Peter quickly stripped down and put on his pyjamas, then wriggled into his bed sheets and curled himself up tightly, waving his wand at the lamp. "Nox," he hissed and he rolled over onto his side. He found himself staring at James, for that was the side he was most comfortable on, and his eyes traced the profile - the curve of his nose, the juts of hair and the square-ish chin. James lay on his back, limbs falling every which way, mouth slightly open... And Peter thought of how he'd looked that day, in the tower, at Voldemort's mercy, when he, Peter, had arrived to distract the Dark Lord from hurting James Potter.

Fat load of credit he'd gotten for it, he thought, for doing more than any of the other Marauders to save James.

He'd done it, though, because James alone, he realized, could be counted as a friend.

"Out of bed... and on a school night, too... well this is just charming." Filch was excitedly muttering as he filled out another offense card to add to his collection of them. Sirius was leaning back in his seat across from Filch, his feet up on the table, looking about the room. Remus was at least pretending to be somber about the occasion, staring down at his hands as he was. They'd been caught while searching the halls for Peter Pettigrew, who had seemed to disappear. "This is going on your permanent record, I tell you," Filch announced.

"My permanent record must be several kilometers long by now, I suppose?" Sirius questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Filch looked up. "Add getting smart to the report!" he snapped and bent back over the card.

"Don't forget to add me telling you to piss off, too, Filch darling?" Sirius said helpfully.

Filch paused, "You told me to pis off?" he asked, growling, eyes beading. "When?"

"I haven't yet, but I'm about to," Sirius said, grinning, and he said, very slowly and deliberately, "Piss off."

Filch's eyes bulged so large that Remus couldn't help but laugh, though he stifled it quickly and it came out more of a bark and he covered his mouth with his hand, looking rather ashamed. Sirius guffawed loudly, his body trembling with amusement at Remus's barking sound. "What'sa matter, Moony?" Sirius asked, "Bit of a hair of the dog?"

Remus turned red.

"Laughing at insolence..." Filch muttered, turning to add onto Remus's offense list, which so far merely said out of bed after hours compared to Sirius's stack of offenses that now included telling the caretaker to piss off.  Filch took up the cards and turned about, grabbing hold of a drawer of cards only to find it was over full. Filch scowled.

Sirius said, "Looks like it's about time to do some reorganizing."

He glanced back at Sirius's amused face, then grabbed a fist full of cards from the drawer and put them on the desk, being careful not to get them out of order. Then he turned back to the filing cabinets and pulled another drawer and did the same thing, several times over until he got to the end of the alphabet and he started working his way back to the drawer he started with, shifting each fist full of cards one drawer as he did.

But to Filch's dismay, when he reached the first one - the one where he collectively kept Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew in a folder labelled Marauders - he found that the drawer was still full! "But I've only just -- did I -- maybe mistaken?" he murmured, and, confused, he started over, taking another fist full of cards and started going back through the drawers, shifting them one by one by one. When he finally got to the end, he drew open the Marauders' drawer again... and it was full again.

"WHAT THE BLAST?" he exclaimed, frustrated, and he started frantically redoing the entire process yet again.

Remus glanced over and found Sirius grinning like a maniac and noticed he had his wand aimed at the drawer, having fetched it from the desk when Filch wasn't looking, and his eyes were twinkling with mischief. Sirius spotted Remus looking his way and held one finger over his lips to hush him. 

Remus bit his lips to keep from emitting another barking laugh, and turned back to watch the show as Filch tried again and again - getting further and further upset, pulling the drawer open and closing it only to find it full over and over and over - his eyes tearing up with the frustration of it - until finally, he drew out the drawer and it simply exploded with cards. Cards were flying every which way, as though being shot out of a cannon, flying so hard that several stuck into the wood rafters and Filch exclaimed with pain as one caught the side of his face, leaving a bright red tear in his skin, and he ducked down.

"Mrs. Norris!" his voice was strangled with panic and he held out his arms as the cat leaped, yowling, over the desk, the tip of her tail hair getting clipped off as a card  caught it, and landed in a pouf of fur in Filch's outstretched arms.

"Bloody hell, my permanent record is rather nasty isn't it?" Sirius laughed and he tipped an imaginary cap, leaned forward for Remus's wand, which he tossed to his mate, and said, "Good luck with it!" And dashed for the door, followed by a somewhat reluctant Remus.

"YOU'LL BLOODY PAY FOR THIS!" Filch yelled from where he was huddled down with Mrs. Norris, who meowed loudly, as though to agree with Filch's threats. "YOU'LL PAY! YOU'LL SEE EXPULSION!"

But Sirius was laughing loudly as he ran down the hallway and didn't seem much concerned with whether Filch's threats would ever really amount to anything.