Worthy
And Peter didn't always mind being a tagalong because of moments like this, when James and Sirius were pissed out of their minds and he and Remus would sneak up to the Astronomy Tower for the night, humiliate the couples on midnight excursions, and wait for the sun to rise. They'd shake off the fatigue of following and be equals in their solitude, laughing over their latest antics, yes, but mostly being something bigger than they were in the usual, mundane way of things. They'd ponder peace and war and wizardry and look at each other like they mattered, like they were so far apart from their sad little lives that maybe, maybe, they could make a difference.
And if he really were that brave, he would have held onto those moments forever, but Peter was no fool—a sorry-ass coward with no business calling himself a Gryffindor, maybe, but never a fool. One day, he grew up and grew out of the sunrise and went back to wishing he deserved the scraps his friends threw him and retreated back into himself (where he belonged), and then they were soldiers, and then it was all too much, and Peter wound up on the wrong side.
He felt he had no choice but to be a spy, because they'd have killed him if he'd said no, and he wasn't big enough to tell the Order what he'd done, even when it meant twelve years of hiding in a rat's skin to salvage his safety. There wasn't a lot he could do to console himself, not when they died and it was all his fault, but oh, did he try to convince himself that it was a blessing in disguise, in a way—that if it weren't for his sins, neither Harry Potter nor anybody else would ever have had the chance to stop the war. (It didn't help, not when Sirius and Remus figured him out and the best he could do was go running back to Voldemort and be hated, do his bidding.)
Right up until the end, he used to sneak into the backyard of Spinner's End each morning to watch the sunrise. If he couldn't make it okay, at least he could take an hour out of his day to remember a time before he'd given way, a space nobody could touch, a place where he was worth something and he was loved and he could do anything—
(Would you believe me if I told you that I love you?
Would you believe me if I told you that I was always afraid of you?
Would you believe me if I told you that I'm sorry?)
A/N: Loosely inspired by Kate Miller-Heidke's "Space They Cannot Touch", as per pointblankdarcy's prompt in Hogwarts is Home Ravenclaw Fic Tag. (I mutilated the tone of the song, I know…) Reviews appreciated!