Rattus Rattus
"Mr. Pettigrew!" Professor McGonagall's brogue snapped through the 'tt' and the 'r' of his last name, and Peter flinched to attention.
"Could you please explain the three major impediments in animate-to-inanimate Transfiguration?" She said it like an order, like it was a certainty that he would know the answer.
Peter sighed. Of course he didn't know the answer; he was only scraping through 5th-Year Transfiguration because James and Remus cheated their fingers off for him. His complete lack of ability and aptitude would become glaringly clear during their OWLs, he knew, and it really infuriated him that his best friends didn't seem as worried about this as he was. As if they didn't care about the separation of the Marauders that would inevitably occur, when Peter achieved OWLS in Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, and nothing else.
Mostly it was magnificent, but sometimes it was frustrating, and nauseatingly unfair, to be friends with these boys. All three were brilliant at almost everything, and whatever they weren't perfect at on the first try they could work through on the 2nd or 3rd, while Peter was still struggling to even begin his first attempt.
He wasn't sure, that even after 5 years, James and Remus realized just how much (and how desperately) Peter cheated off of them. Sometimes he even got better grades that James or Sirius on work that he took from them, because he spent time organizing their thoughts and writing them down neatly, and Professors appreciated that effort. He may not have been able to do the work himself, but he was damn good at faking it. But, he couldn't fake this. Shit.
"Um, the three ma-major impediments?" He could remember the section in Remus' notes titled exactly this, but he couldn't for the fucking life of him, recall what was written under the heading.
"Well, the condensation on, I mean of, the bone structure?" McGonagall's lips narrowed slightly, and Peter felt a shiver of dread race up his spine. His fingertips felt cold and trembly.
He risked a glance to his left, a silent plea for his deskmate's help, but Remus was broody and miserable on this morning before a full moon, and clearly was barely cognizant that he was currently in class, let alone that a tricky question had been posed.
Shit. Couldn't Moony wake up for 30 seconds to help him? Peter always stayed up on full-moon nights and romped through the Forbidden Forest with his friends, and never complained about how tired he was the next day. For Merlin's sake, Remus could snap out of it long enough to angle his notes so Peter could see them.
Typically, by now James would have turned lazily around in his seat at the desk directly in front of Peter and, in the guise of stretching or rescuing a fallen quill, dropped a note with the answers scribbled across it on to Peter's desk. But today, James was sitting across the classroom with the Dale Greengrass the Ravenclaw Keeper, and could only grin apologetically at Peter.
Shit. James wasn't in his usual, helpful spot because his usual spot was right next to Sirius and at this moment the two boys were very angrily and very obviously not talking.
Peter sighed gustily at Sirius' tightly-clenched back. Sirius, who would never in a million years turn around and give Peter the answer, Sirius, who often told Remus and James to quit helping Peter so much, because Peter was a big boy and should learn to do things for his fucking self, Sirius, whose bloody fault Peter's whole answerless predicament was.
"Mr. Pettigrew, I have been quite patient. Please, was that uncertain phrase the extent of your knowledge on this subject?"
Under his desk, Peter ground his knuckles against his knees. He couldn't answer McGonagall's question, but it wasn't his fault, and if Sirius'd stopped being such an obnoxious shithead about the whole fight, Peter wouldn't be in this bloody uncomfortable spot, because one of his friends would have helped him. Only a foot away from him now, Professor McGonagall cracked her knuckles and met his eyes. Peter gulped. Shit.
Transfiguration had been an unmitigated disaster, and infuriatingly, lunch, which should have been wonderful because- no teachers! and food!- was actually worse. Peter had been kept after class for a private dressing-down by McGonagall, and by the time he skidded into the Great Hall, all the stews were cold and his favorite oat-raisin bread had been demolished.
As Peter slid on to the bench next to James, James ducked his head and apologized for not helping him out in class, and Peter felt his spirits lift, slightly. Moony had gone back to the Tower to have a nap, and that admission of weakness made Peter feel sympathetically-superior, so he decided that it was unfair of him to be angry with Moony for his own Transfiguration humiliation.
James handed him a goblet of pumpkin juice, and Peter grinned broadly at him. "What happened, Pete?" the bespectacled boy inquired, his mouth full of sandwich. "What'd she give you?"
"Ah, no punishment, just a lecture." Peter squinched his cheeks into a thin pout, and stared beadily at James, "about how I simply must apply myself more, Mr. Pettigrew."
James snorted, bits of lunch flying out of his mouth, and Peter laughed uproariously with him. It felt so good to be James Potter's best friend.
Sirius, sitting three seats away from them rather than in his normal place directly to James' right, was clearly watching them, and Peter's insides felt all warm and smooth and liquid-y; awash with happiness at his usurpation of Sirius' place in James' life.
Sirius leaned down the table, and Peter watched James' eyes go cold.
" I don't think teachers can give detentions just for utter stupidity, Wormtail," Sirius said, and Peter's laughter died abruptly in his throat.
James didn't smile at Sirius' joke, not even for one instant, and Peter felt a flash of loving ecstasy for James Potter, because he truly could be counted on to understand both the important stuff, and the tinily significant stuff.
"Ignore that yapping, Pete, he's not part of this conversation." James turned away from Sirius, angling himself awkwardly on the bench, letting Peter know via body language that James was completely and only interested in him.
Sirius' low, mean chuckle echoed down the table, and a silence fell over the Gryffindors seated near the feuding Marauders.
"Oh, ok, Potter, I know you're pissed at me, but I promise you, you couldn't ignore me, even if a shot at Evans' twat depended on it!"
James spun, fury graven in his face, and Peter sighed. Yet a-fucking-gain Sirius had wrecked something that Peter was enjoying. And why, though? Why did the Black boy always seem to fell as if it was incumbent upon him to ruin Peter's good times with James? Sirius wasn't James' only friend. Maybe it was time Sirius understood that.
"Black!" James whisper-shouted, frantic to keep Lily from hearing this conversation. "Don't you ever talk about her like that, again!"
Sirius smiled, but it didn't reach his shuttered eyes. He raised his voice. "Why not, Prongs? It's what you want, isn't it? Oh, shit, I just thought..." Sirius licked his lips and stared lasciviously down the table at Lily. "Prongs. Do you think the carpet matches the fucking drapes?"
Peter saw James flinch. His insides seethed. Sirius was being TERRIBLE to his best friend. What the fuck. Someone should stop him. Someone should...oh. Maybe, several someones. Several Slytherin someones, should stop him.
It was easy to sneak out of the Great Hall with a group of students as the lunch hour dwindled down, since most of his fellow Gryffindors were avidly occupied with the across-the-table row between James Potter and Sirius Black.
Peter waited until he law Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange leave the Slytherin table, then he scurried up the length of the Great Hall after them. He saw them walking slowly toward the door that led down the the dungeons and the Slytherin Common Room, and, checking to make sure no one was watching, Peter strode purposefully after them.
They were surprised as fuck when Peter strolled under a sconce, and the yellowish light illuminated his face and his scarlet-and-gold tie. Malfoy and Lestrange, and now Montague, were clustered in a corridor that led to the Potions classroom, and they looked wildly confused to see Peter so far out of his comfort zone. Peter smiled meanly at them, and Montague raised his wand, obviously expecting the other Marauders to leap out of the shadows with curses on their lips.
Unsurprisingly, Malfoy was the first to recover. "Ahem. Pettigrew. What, exactly are you doing, in our territory?"
Peter took a deep breath. This was for James, he told himself, and not at all because Sirius had let him be embarrassed in Transfiguration today. Really, it was only just for James.
"You've heard, I imagine, that James and Sirius are, erm, fighting." He was shocked by the strength of his own voice, by the way it echoed nicely in the stony corridor.
"Of course," Malfoy responded silkily. "Everyone in the castle knows the Gryffin-queers are quarreling this week."
"Yeah, but does everyone in the castle know why?"
Peter saw Malfoy's face ripple in the thin, pale light-for just an instant, he looked horrified-then, his features smoothed themselves into avid curiosity. He stepped forward, and placed a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder.
"No, Pettigrew, I've no idea why. Do you know?"
Of course he did. He may not have known the answer in Transfiguration, but he fucking knew the answer to this.
He lifted his head, and probably for the first time in his life, looked Malfoy in the eyes.
"If I tell you, you've got to do something with it. Something to...hurt Sirius. To put him, in his place." He didn't feel the least bit sorry, saying those words, because look what Sirius had done to James today! Sirius was not being a good friend, so, you know what, neither was Peter.
Malfoy was nodding so furiously the movement of his head mussed up his stiffly-combed hair, and Peter grinned at him.
Malfoy understood him perfectly-understood how sometimes certain people need to be taught certain lessons. Sirius was absolutely such a person.
Peter opened his mouth. It didn't even feel like a betrayal, because Sirius did it first, did it worse.
"James is mad because Sirius is being cruel, to, um, weaker kids, and doesn't understand why that's wrong. And..."
Six long days had passed, since Peter had told the Slytherin 7th Years his Marauder secrets, and nothing had come of it. Six days of anticipation and excitement and secret-keeping had passed, and nobody had ambushed Sirius, and Sirius hadn't come back to the Tower sporting a bloody nose or a set of antlers, and what's worse, James was slowly thawing his Sirius-freeze.
Because, after the lunch-table-row, Sirius was fucking contrite. He woke up early to steal breakfast from the kitchens to bring to them all in bed, and snuck into Hogsmeade to buy whole shelves of Honeydukes candy and even though James wouldn't talk directly to him, Sirius apologized continuously to his Prongsie, and knew that his contrition was getting through to James.
Peter seethed silently, watching James gradually and almost in spite of himself, forgive Sirius. James still wouldn't talk to Sirius, but he no longer avoided sitting next to him in class, and he ate the perfectly buttered toast that Sirius brought him each morning, and he climbed into the showers that Sirius started for him with a rueful grin on his face.
On Sunday afternoon, Remus and Peter were sprawled in the Common Room, half-heartedly playing Exploding Snap, when the Gryffindor Quidditch team burst through the Portrait Hole. James was flushed and sweaty from practice, and Peter's heart shredded when he saw James toss the Quaffle over his shoulder, directly into Sirius' path, so the Black boy had to swing at it with his Beater's Bat. James followed the arc of the ball as it crossed the Common Room, and he dashed up and over the back of a couch to catch it.
Both boys were laughing, and Remus joined in, clearly thrilled to see his best friends in sync again. Peter shuddered with rage. He wanted to scream at James: How could you forgive someone, who betrays you like that? How could you trust him again? How could you let him back into your life?
James tossed the Quaffle back to Sirius, and dropped onto the arm of Remus' chair. He brushed his sweaty hair out of his face, and watched absently as Sirius threw the Quaffle to the rest of the returning Quidditch team. He sighed, and carefully refrained from looking at Remus or Peter. "So, it was almost like one of the Bludgers had it out for me today...but, um, Sirius saved me from a broken nose, and then from falling off my broom, because of it."
Remus grinned happily at James, and Peter looked away from their delight, furious, but completely unable to articulate why, exactly, he was angry at the re-coalescing of the Marauders. Instead, he watched as Bert Croog flung the Quaffle out of the still-open Portrait Hole, and Sirius, barking like a dog, dashed out of the Tower after it. Bert and Randall Kent howled with laughter as Sirius' barks echoed in the corridor.
James leaned down and tapped the chessboard, and Peter jumped. "Pete, watch out for your knight, he's got it in just a few moves."
Peter smiled. This was something he was better at than James Potter, for a bunch of reasons, none of which were particularly appetizing. "Yeah, but I have to sacrifice the knight, Prongs, so I can take his queen. See?"
James' brow furrowed, and he examined the arrangment of the pieces on the board for a long minute. "Yeah, I guess...I just hate that, you know? That you've got to sacrifice your pieces, in order to win...I'd rather not, I guess..."
Remus lifted his hand to his heart melodramatically. "Well, isn't that a surprise, Prongs Potter, not interested in winning..."
James smirked. "Well, it's not that big of a deal..."
"Oi, Potter!" a voice from near the Portrait Hole shouted, and James lifted his head. "There's a, uh, surprise, for you, in the corridor!"
James crossed to the Portrait Hole quickly, with Peter and Remus just behind him, both ready to defend their friend (if the surprise turned out to be a pack of Slytherins) and, to (hopefully) join in the (fun/delicious) surprise that awaited him.
But, this surprise was neither. It was a Slytherin, but it was a rather pitiful Slytherin. A nearly naked, shivering, upside-down Severus Snape floated in the corridor just outside the Gryffindor Tower, one ankle caught by Levicorpus. A thick red ribbon was tied in a sloppy bow around his neck, and the ends of the ribbon brushed the corridor floor as Snape floated helplessly.
Immediately, James murmured Liberacorpus, and Snape fell, landing on his back and rolling limply onto his side. Swearing under his breath, James pulled his Quidditch robes off and knelt to drape them over Snape's bare chest. But he froze before he let them fall, and stared, utterly horrified, at Snape's chest. Peter squeezed himself closer, and saw what had been done to Snape.
"I'm sorry Prongs. Love Padfoot," James whispered, reading the words that had been carved into Snape's thin chest. He slowly extended his fingers to touch the words, and Snape moaned and tried to roll away. "Oh, no, shit, is that...is that blood?" James' voice was high and frightened, and he turned away from Snape, and retched helplessly. Peter winced, embarrassed for his friend, to be looking so weak in front of the whole of Gryffindor, but James looked like he couldn't have cared less about that. Maybe that's what popularity truly is, Peter mused, when you can look so unbearably stupid, and people still like you for it.
Slowly, James stood, and handed his Quidditch robes to Remus. "Moony, see what you can do for him, please," he whispered, and Remus nodded solemnly. James raised his voice. "Somebody, go get Pomfrey! Somebody else, go get McGonagall!"
James looked down the corridor, and Peter squinted in the direction his best friend was staring. Sirius was strolling towards them, his arms full of butterbeers, almost skipping with glee and anticipation. He tossed a butterbeer up in the air, when he saw James and Peter looking at him, and waved madly at them before he caught it on its way back down.
James shuddered. "The little fucker's celebrating," he murmured to Peter. "He's celebrating, hurting Snape. I can't believe this shit. I thought...I thought he understood, how I felt about this."
James scrubbed his hands across his face, and Peter saw tears glinting beneath James' glasses. Oh, man, Peter realized. James'll never forgive Sirius for this! This is perfect! This is...just what I wanted...Oh, fucking shit. Was this a setup? Was this actually the Slytherins? And not Sirius? Because I asked them to hurt Sirius? Peter gnawed nervously on the index finger of his left hand. This could be great...or, also, this could be terrible. Shit.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!