Peter really wished that James was alive. It was a selfish wish, really, and it shouldn't have been. He knew that Remus and Sirius wanted it too, but he thought that they wanted it differently.
The other two boys were really good at things. Sirius was handsome in a way that just wasn't fair, and it won him points with just about everybody. Lily had told Peter once, her voice thick with amusement as they watched Sirius dangle from his broom upside down during a Quidditch match, that attractive people were usually seen as more trustworthy and capable than unattractive people, even if they shouldn't be. Sirius had been weighed down by his last name for the first three years at Hogwarts, but by the beginning of fourth year, he had become Sirius Black, not Mr. Black. It didn't seem like a big shift, but it made all the difference in the world. Sirius was well liked. Sirius, in ways that Peter would never be able to, Mattered. Peter mattered, Sirius Mattered.
Remus was good in other ways. He was wildly intelligent in a way that could have saved Remus from putting forth any effort at all. It would have been maddening to Peter, who struggled in every subject but History of Magic, but Remus still put in all of the effort simply out of interest. He was ruggedly attractive, if you were attracted to sweaters and warm smiles and gentle touches and the smell of tea. Most girls were, though Remus kept his distance. He had told Peter once that he could never get married. He could never chain someone to werewolf, or the life he would be forced to live because of it. He was funny in a dry way, a lot like Peter, but people thought Remus was funnier than Peter was. Remus would never be esteemed by everyone in his entirety, but he was nearly impossible to hate.
Peter was their third wheel. They loved him, and he knew it, but it was Remus-and-Sirius and Peter. He was a Marauder to them, but not to everybody else. Lily liked him pretty well, and he thought she was just marvelous. He was really keen on Mary McDonald, but she couldn't look past grey eyes and sleek black hair and devilish smiles. Peter had never resented Sirius or Remus, nor would he ever. He just knew that when they graduated in a few years, the disconnect he already felt would widen somewhat. The one person who could keep the gap nearly invisible was James.
James loved Peter more than the other two did. James would help Peter with homework. He would talk to Peter between lessons. He taught Peter how to play a mean game of chess, and Peter was the best player in Gryffindor now. Peter liked James an awful lot, but he really wished James was alive.
Sometimes Peter felt like the only Marauder who knew that James would be stuck at Hogwarts when they graduated. It was far in the future, but it nagged at Peter constantly. If James was alive, Peter would have one of the boys as a partner in every lesson instead of whoever else was the odd one out in class. He would know for sure that they would all stay friends after Hogwarts, since James would never let them drift away.
Peter wished, and all of his wishes were for his own benefit. He hated how selfish he was, but he was just so scared. He didn't want to be alone. Bad things happened to loners.
James had come to Defence Against the Dark Arts today. He sat with Peter, a joyous reprieve from sitting alone behind his two friends. Peter could feel Lily simmering from a few rows away.
James and Lily fought constantly. They would bellow at each other, eyes flashing, arms flailing. Lily's cheeks would flush, her heart would pound, her lips would curl. Peter suspected that she half enjoyed it, but she never told him so. He thought he might try to wheedle it out of her one of these days. People told him lots of things. James' cheeks would go a slightly darker shade of silver. It was barely noticeable, but Peter knew that Lily made James feel almost alive sometimes. James enjoyed the rows wholeheartedly.
At lunch, James had taught Sirius the charm to change hair color. Sirius had turned Lily's hair a ghastly shade of green. She hadn't noticed at first, but her face had gone beet red when she did.
"You look like Christmas with a hangover, Evans!" Sirius bellowed the words down the table, making everybody look over to them. Lily's eyes narrowed as she looked at them. Remus smiled ruefully at his sandwich, Peter gave an apologetic grin. Both boys liked Lily, and though the prank was funny, it would have been funnier on somebody they hated more. Snivellus, maybe.
James laughed so hard that he actually floated up a few feet. Lily looked at him, and though nobody told her so, seemed to know that he was the true culprit. "Potter," she snarled. "Haven't you got something better to do?"
"No, I've got loads of time. All the time in the world, Evans." He smirked at the last words, and she scowled at him.
"Go fall off a broom." With that, she left the Great Hall. Her eyes glimmered with angry tears. Peter wasn't surprised. Lily was one of those people who cried when they felt any strong emotions, though she worked not to let the tears fall. That was hardest when everybody looked at her, so she usually tried to keep their arguments in private settings.
James stopped laughing then. He looked surprised and oddly subdued, and he was quiet the rest of the meal.
When she came to class, her hair was back to its usual crimson glory. She didn't even look at them.
The professor had them do bookwork all period. Peter had hoped that James would help him get the answers faster, but the ghost floated over to Lily's desk. Peter listened carefully, but only caught snatches of the conversation.
"Evans, can we talk?"
"We already are, twat." She didn't look up at him.
"Alone?" The word was heavy with meaning.
"-not, Potter. I'd never - with you." She didn't even look at him.
"Please, it's-" James looked urgently down at her, ignoring Marlene's curious gaze as he focused on Lily's face. Peter wished he was sitting closer, but there was nothing he could do.
"Bugger off," she said. She turned away with finality. James floated back to Peter, dejected.
James halfheartedly helped Peter write about thestrals, but his heart wasn't in it. "How did she know about the broom?" he whispered once.
"What?" Peter asked.
"Nothing." James paused, then looked at Peter closely. He seemed to consider him, then took back his words. "Meet me in the library after dinner."
Peter seldom went to the library, so he had no idea where to meet James when he did go. He wandered uncertainly through the rows of old books. Remus loved the smell, but it made Peter sneeze.
"Pete! Over here!"
James was hovering in the Potions section. Nobody was anywhere near it. Peter rushed over.
James floated back by the window. "Pete, do you know how I died?"
He shook his head. As far as he knew, Sirius was the only one who did. Maybe a few others, but nobody Peter talked to. Sirius never told anybody, not even Remus.
"I think Lily might," James said earnestly. "I never told her, and I'm not sure that she won't tell everybody else."
"Why would that matter?" Peter was confused. James was a ghost. It's not like his death was a mystery.
"Because if people know how I died, they'll treat me like I died. I can't just be another Hogwarts Ghost, Peter. I need, I need more than that." James was serious, and he rarely lacked a smile or a glimmer of pleasure. Now he did, so Peter smiled encouragingly.
"If she hasn't told already, I doubt that she would." Peter paused. "Is it really that bad?"
James looked at his solemnly before making Peter promise not to tell. Peter could promise that easily, so James slowly began his tale.
"I was a seventh year. Head Boy. Captain of the Quidditch team. I was a Chaser. We were incredible, Pete. Totally smashing. Great Beaters, a Keeper who never failed, Chasers with unfailing aim. Our Seeker was a little thing, only a second year girl. She was really quick, but not great at multitasking. We were playing Ravenclaw, and we were winning. It wasn't even a deal breaking game for either of us, but they were mad. One of the beaters hit a bludger at her, and she wasn't paying attention." James fell silent then, eyes far away.
"So?" Peter prompted.
"I was paying attention," he finally said. "I ducked in front of it. It was a hard hit, and I took it to the ribs. Totally caved them in, and I fell off my broom. Nobody caught me."
Peter gaped at him. There were Quidditch injuries, but people hardly ever died.
James shrugged sheepishly. "It was an accident. It was nobody's fault, really. I'm not sore about it or anything. It's just nice to be treated like a person, not an accident, you know?"
Peter promised not to tell again. He thought about it a lot that night. He thought about all of the details James left out. He imagined the cold fear when James realized that the girl wasn't going to move in time. The air blowing in James' face as he rode in front of her. The scream the girl must have made when she saw him. The pain of the impact with the bludger. The kick in his stomach as he fell. Was he conscious the whole way down? Was he intact after he hit the ground, or did he not look like James at all?
Peter curled up in bed, holding his pillow tight against his chest. He had thought constantly about James being dead, but he hadn't pondered much on the fact that James had died. James had had a family. He had been a student, probably with friends of his own. He had taken a hit for someone, and it had killed him. It made Peter's chest ache. He felt almost afraid of James, and he hated himself for it. James was nothing different than he had been six hours ago, but Peter still felt uncomfortably aware of the fact that James did not belong to them.
Peter didn't think that Lily would tell anybody, but he also would never have expected her to throw it in his face like that. He felt like Lily and James brought out more of each other than other people did. It was usually the worst that they brought out, but maybe it could be the best if they tried.
