Peter Pettigrew-a rather small, pea-shaped boy-was feeling quite down in the dumps.

During the first week of school, Peter had been so swept up in learning his class schedule, in the excitement of being independent (err, sort of), and the thrill of actually being able to use magic, why, he had hardly had time to spare thinking about his mother. But now that the initial rush of zeal had drained away, Peter wished the last two week had been spent a little more wisely.

Before he had left for Hogwarts, his step-father had told him all about how boarding schools worked. The first month determined how the rest of his life at school was going to go. Probably after as well, his step-father had said, if you're going to be there for seven years. Who you're friends with, how you act, how good of a person you become all depends on that first month. You get no second chances.

Well, Peter's first month of school was almost at an end.

There was just no good way of going about befriending people, and Peter certainly hadn't been willing to go up and potentially make a fool of himself trying to. So he decided to wait it out. Let people come up to him if they were trying to make friends. It seemed, however, most everybody else had the same idea. His step-father said it was supposed to be like a blood bath trying to get friends those first few weeks. Everyone was fighting everyone for that one person, who was fighting with somebody else over that other person, because people were possessive over their new friends. Wanted to make sure they stuck by them and not some other kid who they didn't like. It seemed to Peter though, that what his step-father thought would be a vicious battle over making friends, turned out to be more of a thoughtless drifting. It was like all the other first years were walking around aimlessly, hoping they would bump into that one person they would just click with. Either that, or everybody else was already taken and nobody was willing to share.

'Possessions' were what his step-father had described friends as. And the mousy haired boy really hoped people had learned that sharing was caring.

It wasn't just having friends, or lack thereof, that was causing him to mope around his currently empty dorm. It was just-well, he was homesick he supposed, despite there being little to miss. Peter didn't have any siblings back home to care about, his room was too tiny despite his already small size, and there was the constant smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol in every room, with only one working bathroom for the three people that live there. But Peter's mom… she was where he thought home really was. As the kindest, sweetest woman in the whole world, Peter would do anything for her to be there with him. For her to brush his hair back and kiss his brow, tell him how much she loves him.

But she wasn't there, and he'd only get to see her again at Christmas for a few days before leaving. And then he'd be with her during the summer, but that was only for two months before school started back up, in which case the whole cycle started again until he graduated. But then even after he graduated, Peter would have to find a place of his own. That was the worst part of coming to Hogwarts, thought Peter, that I wouldn't ever have the same relationship with my mother again.

There were letters of course, but that wasn't the same. Letters left things out; words and stories went missing when you were trying to put them down-letters lied. Peter had already lied in the letter to his mother eight days ago. It was about 'how great my new friends are, mom. Don't worry!'

Then there was also the fact he could no longer take care of her.

With a soft sniffle, Peter allows the tears that have gradually been building up in his eyes, to fall.

His step-father had always called him a crybaby-and Peter supposes this is true. He'd once cried over not being able to properly tie his shoes a few years ago, and more recently, he had cried over getting his first ever pet (a mouse that he may or may not have already lost), which his step-father said any normal kid wouldn't have done. And there was that one time he had run to his mother, crying about his scrapped knee when his step-father had said, 'Stop fucking coddling him, Anna. The boy's already as soft as butter. He needs to learn to toughen up, to grow a spine. Walk it off, boy. Stop being a crybaby. Grow up.'

Peter always wondered why kids had to grow up so fast. It just didn't seem right.

Regardless of what he thought then and still, Peter tried to do as his step-father said. Samuel always blamed Peter's mother for anything concerning Peter. So in order to take care of her, whenever Peter felt like crying, he would take a deep breath and count up to the point where his eyes were no longer watery and a sharp indent from where his finger nail had dug into his palm was left. Sometime his mother caught him in the act and she would pick him up, rocking them both back and forth. 'Don't do that, baby,' she'd whisper, 'You don't need to do that. You don't listen to anything your step-daddy says. He's just angry all the time and you shouldn't ever listen to people when they're angry. It's alright to cry. You just…just let it all out now, I know you try. Don't do that, baby.'

And…it was comforting, to a degree. But how could he not listen to his step-father? He was smart, and strong, and powerful. Mum always listens to him anyways, he thinks, If I don't listen, he'll blame her, hurt her.

More than hating himself for being a crybaby, Peter hated when his mother was hurt.

But now he was gone, at Hogwarts, and maybe when he went home for Christmas things would be better. Surely his step-father wouldn't hurt his mother if he couldn't blame her for anything Peter-related. He loved her, Peter knew his step-father did, he said so so often that Peter knew it was true. His step-father had once tried to explain to him why he hurt her in the first place despite his love of her. 'Your mother's not good, Peter. Not like you, certainly not like me. Every time you start crying, blabbering on or getting so excited about something, I know it's her fault. She coddled you too much before she married me. And you may not see the problem now, but Peter, you're a fat little boy, and it's all her fault. I just can't trust her to raise you properly. I have to take care of you, this is how.'

So that's how Peter knew it was his fault. His fault his mother got hurt despite what his step-father said. But now he was gone. At Hogwarts. And his step-father couldn't blame her for anything. It'd be better at Christmas time he knew. They'd both be happy and in love again, he was positive. That's just how these things work.

But that didn't stop his crying presently. There was a feeling of wrongness that settled within his very bones. Something just wasn't right about the situation. Something that, whenever he tried to pinpoint it, slipped away from him like slime.

Besides, no one was around to see him, or blame anyone else for causing him to cry. It's not like his roommates would care either way. (Although Peter worried about thinking of them, because it seemed like every time he did, they popped out from the most random places-just yesterday, Peter had been thinking about how strange of an eye color Remus had and suddenly there he was. A tall, lanky, dusty brown haired elven year old was jumping down next to him from a tree that a seventh year had accidently summoned into the corridor. It was weird.)

James-it was James right-had tried to involve him in several conversation since the first day, but had promptly given up around four days ago when Peter continued to only answer with one or two words. He'd felt rude and ashamed after James had made a face at him and said, 'Fine, if you don't want to be friends with me, I'll stop trying. I just thought you might need someone to talk to for the next seven years.' Ever since, the mousy haired boy had been too nervous to try and reach out.

James was nice, Peter knew from watching him. But he was really loud, even louder than that girl with the bushy blonde hair. And he noticed everything. That thing you just did and hope no one remembers. Yeah, no, James saw. James knows. And James makes sure everyone else knows to. It was like his glasses granted him superpowers. The ability to see embarrassing things and store each and every accident behind those seemingly doe like eyes. Peter wasn't sure if he even wanted to be friends with him or not. The bad thing would be that he'd learn everything about me. James was good at getting people to talk after all. The good thing would be that he'd probably look after me, like he does with the other Pureblood.

The Pureblood. His name was Sirius Black and Peter got the feeling the other boy cared a lot less about him then even the Sorting Hat. Which was really saying something, because the Sorting Hat was a hat-and if you didn't know, hats do not have emotions the same ways humans do, even if they are sentient. Peter thought it had something to do with the way Sirius eyed everything. It was a cold, distant stare, like there was nothing in the world-except himself maybe-that he truly cared about. As if everything was beneath him. Peter's first letter to his mother mentioned 'The Look', as Peter had taken to calling it. She'd said it was normal Pureblood behavior. They were all the same from what she remembered. (And I'm so proud of you for making Gryffindor. I always knew you were brave, was what she added in afterwards- Peter still felt rather cowardly about that. The hat had wanted to place him in Hufflepuff, but he'd stubbornly refused. Asking, practically begging, to be placed in Gryffindor. If you think so, they Hat had said rather sarcastically.)

Except, thought Peter, curling in on himself, not every pureblood was the same. James was just as much of a pureblood as Sirius, and he looked at everyone around him as if they were equals. Sirius only looked at James that way.

As for his last roommate, Peter didn't know what to think of him. The other boy had introduced himself on the first night, rather formally to, but had not been as forward as James in trying to become friends. Sure, whenever they catch each other's eyes, Remus smiles at him, but its surface level. Peter knows it doesn't mean anything. Plus, something rubs Peter as…off about the other boy. Remus is shifty, his hazel eyes-or maybe they're amber- are constantly darting around, his fingers tap here, he gives a nervous hum there. The taller eleven year old was too caught up in his own world to notice if anything was really wrong with anyone else.

There's a noise just outside the dorm room that has Peter freezing. It sounds like the shuffling of feet.

"Just give me a minute. I need to grab…what? No, I will not grab you any extra socks…Why won't I-Why do you even need them?...That doesn't even make any…Oh Merlin, somethings wrong with you."

Peter lay absolutely still on his bed as the door creaked open. It was Remus, he knew. Peter could tell by the way he spoke. It was soft and light, and it was more relaxed then it was at the start of term, but Peter could tell he was still restraining himself. Always thinking about what should be said instead of what he wanted to say. It was quite refreshing actually. Everyone else in their grade seemed to open up their mouths at the same time their mind decided to stop working.

Unlike James or Sirius who would've laughed and brought the socks for whoever was asking, Remus seemed to actually think about what consequences doing something might result in. Peter knew to do the exact same thing.

Huh, they just might have more in common then Peter originally thought.

Now that he thinks about it-James and Sirius were probably the ones Remus was talking to. Peter could just tell, and a small part of him wondered what they needed socks for. The other part focused on not being noticed.

It worked for a grand total of five minutes before Remus was heading back to the door with a thick book in his hands. It was only because Remus's eyes were constantly shifting from one spot to another, looking around nervously like he was worried something might pop out at him, that caused him to catch a glimpse of Peter lying on the bed. Inwardly Peter scowled, should've closed the curtains.

"Are you okay, Peter?"

"Oh, yeah, um-I'm good, fine. How are you?"

Remus stilled further, squinting at him as if trying to see into his soul. Peter shifted uneasily into a sitting position to stare back, attempting to prove he was, in fact alright. The lighting in the room wasn't great, the lamps were practically useless, and James had drawn the curtains closed fairly early in the morning- complaining about beauty rest-and therefore blocking out any natural light, and Peter hadn't felt like reopening them despite his love of the sun. Yet, there was just enough of it, however, for Peter to tell that Remus was dressed in his Hogwarts uniform, from the tie around his neck down to his very shoes.

It was Saturday. Everyone else was wearing their normal home attire.

"This might be a bit rude, but I don't quite believe you."

Well, he wouldn't. Peter was a very bad liar.

"No, no. I'm fine. Really. You go on, almost dinner I suppose. I'll be there in a minute."

"It's-um-it's only lunch time. Are you positive you're okay? Do I need to get Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, no. I'm fine. Really, Remus. I just-" oh no, his eyes were getting all watery again. He didn't want to cry in front of Remus. Remus would tell James, who would remember it and probably tease him, and then because Sirius was wherever James was, Sirius would give him a look even worse than The Look. "I just- I just- there was" He took in a deep breath, "-I'm fine, really."

"Oh dear," was all Remus said.

The other boy hesitantly walked up to his bed, shuffling nervously at the edge of it before sitting down. It was like a great ton of weight had suddenly fallen upon the other boy's shoulders, hunching him over, making him look older than he really was. Peter looked at the other boy anxiously. This was the closest they had ever been in regards to personal space. Remus slept all the way on the other side of the room, pushed up against the corner furthest away from the door with Sirius in the next bed over. Peter himself slept only a few feet away from the door with James as his closest neighbor. Even when they're in the bathroom at the same time brushing their teeth-and keep in mind the bathroom was actually fairly spacious and had several sinks with separate cabinets, even if there was only one toilet and shower tub-their elbows don't so much as hit each other. Now though, Peter's arm is pushed up against Remus's and he could move over, he could, but Peter finds that even the barest amount of physical attention calmed him, whether it was purposeful or not.

"I know- Well, I know for me it's pretty hard being here. I'm used to my mother and father constantly walking right behind my heels, making sure I don't-"Remus halted, face paling in the dim light. "I don't-I mean-there wasn't-they were just-"

Even with the comforting brush of Remus's arm, Peter was now feeling worse and worse about this. He didn't know what to expect when Remus had sat down beside him, and Peter hadn't exactly wanted any company-except for his mother's-when he had come up here to mope. Moping affected everyone and it seems Remus was a little more like everyone else than Peter had originally thought, because now Remus was beginning to mope and that would probably make Peter mope even harder and then they'd be a pile of mopeness, just feeding off of each other's moping.

Peter is drawn back to the reality when a harsh intake of air is forced into Remus's lungs. He watches in fascination as Remus composed himself- he'd never seen someone recover so quickly from losing themselves to moping. His mother would cry and cry and cry until she noticed Peter watching, and his step-father would shout and shout and shout until his voice went hoarse and his eyelids closed.

This-this was something entirely different. It was a boy, a boy Peter's age, sitting beside him, and controlling himself, with no one else's help! Something Peter had thought near impossible in such a short amount of time.

"Right," Remus breathes out. "I understand how you feel. Out of place, homesick, scared-" Peter had been trying very hard not to focus on the scared part up till then, but now that Remus had said it, well, yes, Peter was feeling that too. "What we both need is some chocolate."

"…What?"

Remus bobbed his head, face firm in resolution. "Yes, that's what we need. Come on."

And so Peter found himself following Remus down the long, narrow stairs into the red and gold adorned common room where James and Sirius were having a loud discussion on the ups and downs of wearing socks during naps.

"You'll get too hot, and do you really want to feel scratchy socks rubbing up against your legs while trying to fall asleep. No, I don't think so."

"They're not scratchy if you wash them right and they're comfortable-"

"Remus, what took so long?"

James huffed at the interruption, but immediately went back to his default face of smiling when he turned in his seat to look at Remus.

"Remus! Surely you would agree with me that wearing socks during naps is a most comfortable experience and that everyone should do it!"

Remus, who Peter thought was trying very hard not to give a resigned sigh, quirked his lips up just a smidge. Peter himself was trying not to stare incredulously. What on earth were they even talking about socks for?

"Are you still on about socks? I would think between the two of you, more conversation starters would have been brought up."

"Only so many topics can come up in a conversation given the amount time. Unfortunately, we had time for but one," Sirius said, standing up. His eyes flicker to Peter, and there it is, The Look-dark and full of anger-but then it's gone and Sirius is looking back at Remus saying, "What were you doing?"

"Talking with Peter-"Peter looked up at the taller boy, thinking that there really hadn't been much talking- "We've decided to find some chocolate."

"Chocolate? Peter?" Peter watched as James nearly got whiplash to look at him. The hazel eyed boy even rocked his chair forward a bit as he changed into a kneeling position. Even from the base of the stairs, Peter can practically feel the excitement radiating off him. It made Peter shrink into himself and blush- no one's ever been so happy to see him before. And besides, James is most likely excited by the possibility of chocolate- Peter is just an afterthought. "Are we going to go exploring to find chocolate? That's brilliant! Where should we search first? I don't think the dungeons will have anything, so cross that out. What about the Great Hall-wait, no. That wouldn't be exploring, that'd be like saying I had kneazle when really it's just a cat. Where do you think, Sirius? First floor? Brilliant-"

Sirius snapped his mouth shut and glared forcefully at James, yet it still wasn't as bad as The Look. Peter wondered why it was just him who seemed to get that reaction. Had he done something to offend the Pureblood?

"-I was thinking we could start searching on this floor and work our way around it before heading down the stairs-"

"Can't we just ask someone?" And, oh. Peter hadn't meant to say anything, but the prospect of getting lost in a castle of this size outweighed the fear of speaking up. "Err, I mean, wouldn't it just be easier to ask someone if they had chocolate?"

He could practically feel himself about to start sweating with nervousness. That might have been the longest sentence he's spoken to anyone since the start of term.

James stared at him dumbly, as if he didn't quite know whether Peter was stupid, or if what Peter had said made a lot more sense and was now feeling stupid himself.

"Where's the fun in that though?"

"I-" Is that all he ever thinks about? Fun?

"We can do both," Remus offered hesitantly. "Explore and ask around."

Sirius looked at James at the same time James looked at Sirius. Together, they raised an eyebrow, perfectly in sync. It was startling how much they looked alike in that moment. Okay, thought Peter, they might be related. It's not like he knew exactly how pureblood families worked after all. His mother had never explained anything in depth about the pureblood families. Just a quick little comment about how if you were to look at the family trees, you'd probably be able to make a wreath out of it, with off shoots every so often. Peter still doesn't know what she meant by that.

Sirius shrugged.

James narrowed his eyes and turned his penetrating gaze onto Peter, leaning further over the back of the couch to get a better look at him. They stared at each other a bit before Peter shuffled from side to side, wondering how, even with all the other people in the room, they weren't drawing the slightest of attentions. A few more moments passed where Sirius flopped back down onto a couch, Remus began leaning against the cold stone walls, James continued staring and staring, and Peter wondered if maybe he should say or do something. He decided on giving James a smile. A very small, shaky smile, but a smile none the less. The whole thing was rather too silly to even bother saying anything anyways.

Apparently it was the right thing to do, because not a second later, James was beaming at him.

The boy hopped off his chair, spinning in place and marching toward the common room door. "C'mon then, mates. Let's go finding some chocolate for our two chocolate-lovers."

"I like chocolate to," Sirius murmured, already walking on the edge of James's heels.

"Three-no, four-chocolate lovers, then."

Remus tugged Peter along after them, which Peter was grateful for. He's not actually sure what's going on right now.

There was only one other thing Peter really noticed before passing through the portrait of the Fat Lady. The common room seemed to burst with noise. Somehow, Peter got the feeling it had nothing to do with him.

It was several hours later when they finally found the kitchen and it was only thanks to one of the professor's that they did so.

After stumbling around lost for a good bit of time (the same exact thing Peter had feared would happen), they had come across a rather large lounging room with colors from all the houses. In the middle of the room was a long table that James had immediately wandered over to, sitting down in the chair at the head of it and began speaking like Dumbledore. It took only a moment before Sirius was at his side, pretending to be their Head of House, and Remus was sitting casually in the chair across from Sirius adding in points that sounded like they were supposed to come from Slughorn. Then it took another moment for Peter to realize that while he was looking around the room and picking up things he probably shouldn't be picking up, they had decided this was where all the teachers came to talk and gossip about all the students.

"Do you think I'm ever mentioned? It'd be a right shame if Professor McGonagall never said anything about me. It'd absolutely break my heart-" James placed one hand over his chest, "-arrow right through the middle. Bam. I think I would die."

"Let us hope that your body is easy to scrap of the ground then, Mister Potter."

All four boys froze, then they turned to look at each other, then at where Professor McGonagall was standing. She was stern faced, sharp green eyes glaring down at them with her arms crossed and a back as straight as steel. Peter thinks that he might suddenly have to go to the bathroom.

James is the first to react, though definitely not how Peter wanted him to. The boy with glasses gave out a small shriek and promptly tumbled out of his chair. Everyone turned to stare. Sirius may have snickered a bit.

"Well now, I know I'm not the prettiest, but that reaction was hardly necessary."

"Wait, no! That wasn't why! Your definitely pretty, Professor, that wasn't why I screamed. I mean, if you really do have insecurities about your looks then I can probably right a letter to my mom, she'd be more than happy to work with you on fixing that-plus your eyes are really green and kinda remind of that potion that causes painful lumps down your throat- not that it's a bad thing!"

Peter started hoping he was dreaming. James talked a lot, he knew this, but did he really have to ramble so badly? He was making things worse! The professor was staring to raise her eyebrows. Last time he saw an adult raise their eyebrows, his step-father started a screaming match with the little old lady next door and that had resulted in Samuel punishing his mother for not accepting dinner with the woman. (Which was somehow still Peter's fault, but he didn't know why, just that it was.) Point being, eyebrow raising on adults was bad. Very bad. It completely meant, at this moment, the four of them were going to be punished and his mother would get a letter and he'd be sent home for good to live out the rest of his life magicless. Just some common muggle with any memory of magic erased. Those things happened! Those where the types of stories his mother told him sometimes and it was a real job at the ministry to do that! Peter didn't want to be magicless! Granted it was something he had that his step-father didn't, so hopefully if he did end up losing his magic, he could get a good job like his step-father. But magic was also the only thing his step-father really complimented him on all the time.

More than he hated the fear of losing his magic, Peter would hate even more if he gained his step-father's disappointment.

"-and then Peter came down stairs with Remus and that's how we decided to go adventuring for chocolate. So you see, you can't really blame us for finding the place if we were lost and didn't know where we were heading to. Merlin's beard, Professor, we probably won't even be able to find our way back here. We got so mixed up in directions that-funny story actually- did you know that on one of the floors there was this room that was filled to the brim with empty paintings and I was wondering what they were for? Can you tell us-no? Maybe another time then. Come to think of it-"

"Thank you, Mister Potter, for your…explanation," the professor gave James-who was still lying on the floor, glasses askew and hands paused in the air from elaborate story telling-an amused look. Peter noted with panicked relief that her eyebrows were down. Her arms were also uncrossed, which was good. Definitely good.

Her green eyes glanced first over Remus who was wearing a panicked expression, practically identical to Peter's (although Peter was certain Remus's eyes weren't watery like his), then over to Peter himself. Something in her face softened, almost unnoticeable until she looked down at Sirius. His back was to Peter, so the boy couldn't see anything other than the Purebloods hands. They were clenched very very tightly. Professor McGonagall hummed.

"While I would not recommend wandering the school until you are more familiar with the usual passages, I find your explanation quite sound, Mister Potter."

James' mouth dropped open. "You do?"

"Quite." Professor McGonagall nodded, face once again stern. "But I should have you note that such rooms as this are off limits to any student. And unless you would want to miss dinner, as will happen within the next hour, I would advise not visiting the kitchens. Which is also off limits to students, and most certainly not past the Hufflepuff common rooms, first corridor to the left behind the painting with the fruit. Certainly not. As for the way back to the Great Hall-go out of this room, keep walking until you've come across a painting with a hippo wearing a gown, take a left, and go down all the stairs until you hear talking. I'd assume most will be wandering around the doors now anyhow. Exit the door and there you'll be. Understood?"

"Uhh..." James pushed himself off the floor, looking up at the professor.

"Professor," Remus interrupted before James could say anything. Peter squeaked-no! Remus couldn't begin talking too! What if-what if-okay so Peter didn't actually know what would happen. But he was sure it wasn't anything good. This might be the only time they'd get off the hook, and that was only due to James. Remus or Sirius (what might happen if Sirius spoke? Peter shuddered a little) or himself would just make things worse by adding anything more. That's just how these things worked!

"Did you say that the kitchens were past the HufflePuff common room, first corridor to the left and behind the painting with the fruit?"

"Most certainly not. I said that was where it isn't."

How did that even make sense? If she's saying that's where it isn't, then would that mean it was everywhere else? Did the kitchen move around? Oh no, he hoped it didn't move around. I don't want to be stuck searching for the kitchens all day and night with James. That'd be horrible.

"Right then, thank you, Professor," Remus smiled at her. "Well, just be on our way."

"For dinner," Sirius added, turning his body around and walking stiffly to the door. Although, Peter noted how his skin looked clammy even with the smile on his face.

"Oh yeah, dinner, definitely. Thank you, Professor, really. Your eyes are lovely."

"I'm always delighted to hear that my eyes remind people of harmful potions, Mister Potter."

James laughed nervously, pulling Peter along and outside the room with him.

The four of them stood outside the closed door, still shocked from the events that had taken place. Based on the rumors, Professor McGonagall gave detentions and took points like a bloodhound on a trail. Especially to and from Gryffindor's. Which didn't even make sense, shouldn't Heads of Houses be more biased toward their house? Isn't that logical? Peter thought so, as did everyone in the house of Gryffindor. He hadn't interacted much with the other houses enough to listen in on conversations like that.

Peter's stomach growled. He'd only eaten a small breakfast and no lunch. "Can we go to dinner now?"

The three taller boys turned to look at him with astonished faces.

"Why would we do that?" Sirius asked, looking for once, completely sincere.

"Um, because she told us to?"

"Mate, she just gave us the directions to the kitchens."

"No, James," Peter said whilst frowning. "She just told us where they weren't. I know she was talking fast, but even Remus repeated where not to go."

"No, those were definitely the directions to the kitchens."

"Remus!"

"Peter!"

"James," Remus sighed. The older boy shook his head and Peter noted how he wasn't as tired looking.

"Sirius."

"…did you just say your own name?"

Sirius looked affronted. "Someone had to! Peter said Remus's, you said Peter's, and Remus said yours. I was feeling left out."

James let out a small giggle, but Peter was still scowling. Those weren't the directions to the kitchens. She had said they weren't and so they weren't. Adults didn't say one thing and mean another. They just didn't. Unless they were angry, and despite his initial thoughts, Peter didn't think Professor McGonagall seemed all angry.

James slung an arm around Peter's shoulders before hesitantly putting his other hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Come on, mates. Remus, lead the way."

Okay, so maybe they were the directions to the kitchen. But that didn't matter because Peter could tell the exact moment his life changed. It was the moment when James was laughing with him, and Remus was trying not to smile at the situation, failing to look stern, and Sirius, well, he wasn't quite smiling at Peter, but The Look was gone, and Peter found that the other boy looked really quite nice and approachable without it.

This would be the moment that would be ingrained in Peter's life forever. A moment with sunlight coming in through windows so high up in the kitchen, with the smell of food and pumpkin juice surrounding them, and a warm feeling of welcome. A feeling that he had done something right for once.

Peter had found himself some friends, some very very good friends. It would expand too, give or take a few months. Before he knew it he would be having more moments like this- laughing with different people, talking and crying to or before other people, being comforted by these so special people. And throughout his whole life he would think of them as his best of friends. The only friends he would ever want, what with memories like the ones to come.

But that was the problem wasn't it.

Peter only ever saw them as friends. And friends were something that could be replaced. Kind of like possessions actually.

The rest of them thought of themselves as a family. And those could never be replaced.