Captain: weakness
"You don't have it in you, do you?" Regulus looks at him with a smirk, and Peter hates him for it. "I thought you were supposed to be special."
Peter bites back a bitter laugh. Special. Why on earth would anyone think he's special? He's always been the odd one out, the one no one ever really cared about. Even among friends, he's always been overlooked. James and the others probably haven't even noticed he's gone.
"You're pathetic. Weak," Regulus taunts.
It's just Snape. That's what Peter tells himself again and again. Snape doesn't matter. Snape is their enemy. Hasn't he hexed the Marauders more times than Peter can count? Why should he worry about hurting the greasy Slytherin git? James and Sirius have done it so many times. Even Remus has sent an innocent jinx Snape's way.
All he has to do is aim…
"Blimey, Wormtail!" Sirius snorts, clapping his hand against Peter's back. "Knew you didn't have it in you."
But he does. Peter has to. If he disappoints his friends…
"Told you," James says, shaking his head, an amused smile on his lips. "Peter here is too soft. Like a little bunny."
"Or a kitten," Sirius adds, nodding.
"There's no shame in weakness," Remus says.
Peter knows Remus is trying to be kind, even when their friends are cruel. Somehow, his words sting more. He would much rather be mercilessly ridiculed. But this? From Remus? Peter recoils as though the other boy has physically struck him.
"I'm not weak."
But there's no chance to prove it. His wand is still pointed outward, but his target is gone. Snape has slipped away, and Peter feels like an absolute idiot.
"Crucio!" The beam of light flies from the tip of his wand, striking the younger man.
Regulus drops to the floor, twisting and turning, a pained cry escaping his lips. Peter lets his hand fall, the connection breaking. A moment later, he's by Regulus' side, kneeling beside him. "Are you okay?"
Amusement flashes in Regulus' grey eyes. Even as the lingering aftershocks of the curse remain, he smiles and fixes Peter with that look. Peter knows it all too well. His friends always looked at him like that, like he's some poor fool to be pitied. Of course, they never would have said as much aloud. They always let Peter feel like he belonged. But he never did. Not really.
"Come on, Wormy," Sirius says, ruffling Peter's hair. "Lighten up."
Peter huffs, cheeks burning a dark red. His eyes sting, but he manages not to cry. He tries to tell himself that this is normal. His friends are always teasing others; it's just what they do. But they aren't supposed to make him their target. They're friends, after all.
"Behave," Remus says with a heavy sigh, and looks at Peter with pity in his golden eyes. "Don't mind them, mate. Just a bit of fun."
All Peter can do is nod mutely. Remus would never understand. James and Sirius so clearly adore him. They would probably fight anyone who even thought of hurting Remus. But Peter? No. No one really cared for him like that.
He was pitiful. Pathetic. The weakest link among them.
"Come on." Sirius gestures them forward with a crook of his finger. "I hear Slughorn just got a few new bottles of mead. You gents fancy a bottle?"
And Peter follows along and tries to ignore how incredibly out of place he feels.
"Do you plan to apologize to everyone you curse?" Regulus asks, a smirk on his lips as he sits up and brushes his shoulders off. If he's grudging that Peter has cursed him, he doesn't show it. Like his older brother, Reguls holds himself with a cold, indifferent air, like nothing can touch him. "Or am I just special?"
His words hit Peter, knotting his stomach. Regulus is only practice. Maybe there's part of him that's always been well aware of this, but he feels his insides twisting now, and he thinks he might be sick.
For now, he is just a spy. One day, though, he may find himself having to fight. What will he do then? The thought makes him want to double over and puke.
"Merlin, you really are soft," Regulus says with a snort.
"I am not. I cursed you."
Regulus draws his legs to his chest, his chin resting on his knees. "Good job. What were you thinking of when you cursed me? Was it your so-called friends?"
Peter doesn't answer, but his silence must be enough. Regulus just laughs and offers him a look that says your secret is safe with me. Peter tries not to hate him for it.
"You don't seem so bad," Regulus says, his demeanor changing. "Why are you doing this?"
Peter opens his mouth and closes it again. How can he even begin to explain? He doubts Regulus would understand at all. Regulus is the golden boy of Slytherin, so loved and adored. He wouldn't know what it's like to be overlooked, to never be good enough, to be weak.
Peter watches as his friends return to the dormitory, all cheerful laughter and satisfied smiles. It isn't the first time they've gone off without him, off on some adventure he knows nothing about.
He will not cry, will not be weak.
Do they even realize he wasn't with them at all? The thought makes him recoil, but he manages to hold his head high and pretend that everything is okay and he definitely doesn't mind that they went without him.
No one even acknowledges. No one except Remus who offers him an almost apologetic smile before climbing into bed.
"You don't seem so bad either," Peter says, because it's easier to shift the conversation back to Regulus. He doesn't want to talk about himself.
Regulus' lips twitch. He shrugs. "Maybe you and I aren't so different," he says, but he doesn't elaborate. His gaze is distant, like the room around them has fallen away and he's looking at something Peter cannot see.
"I doubt it."
Regulus laughs. "Maybe it's okay to be weak. Maybe there's honor in not being cruel."
Later, much later, after Regulus is gone and rumors of his cowardice begin to swirl, Peter wonders why Regulus had been so concerned with honor in the first place.