November 13th, 1976: Peter Pettigrew

Peter hadn't been a student at Hogwarts for a day before Raymond Ketteridge tried to beat him up Muggle-style: it only took one comment before the Sorting to Remus that Slytherin sounded awful. Sirius fought him off easily before any real damage was done to Peter's bone structure, but Peter never forgot the incident, and in his mind, Ketteridge hasn't matured one bit since the days when he was a pudgy-faced eleven-year-old kid who thought that a punch was an all-purpose quick fix.

So Peter's not surprised for long when he's woken Saturday morning by the sound of James's fist punching through the headboard of his four-poster. After all, following Meghan McCormack around the castle for hours after dinner and going on to hex her into oblivion in the middle of the night is exactly the sort of thing that an oaf like Ketteridge would do.

"Calm down, Prongs, it's not that bad," Remus says as Peter lets the news sink in and wakes up properly. "Well, it is for Meghan, of course, but you can still get through the game without her—you have reserve players, right?"

"Just a Chaser and a Beater," says James, flexing his fist and wincing. He's punched clean through the wood, leaving a hole in the headboard and splintered cuts in his hand. "Dammit."

Remus rationalizes, "Then you can play Seeker and have the Chaser take over for you."

"I know, that's what I'm going to suggest to Gid, but that doesn't fix it!" James says heatedly. "Robins hasn't been practicing with us, he probably won't know half the plays Gid uses—and anyway, you know I'm not half the Seeker Meg is, no one at this school is half the Seeker Meg is! It's one thing to do tricks on occasion with a Snitch I stole from practice, but I've been practicing Chaser, I haven't been training as Seeker. God, you know how bad my vision is, why do you think I didn't make Seeker on the team in the first place? What if I can't even see the Snitch when I'm out there?"

Blearily, Peter pulls himself into a sitting position, still blinking against the harsh light of day. He lets Remus handle James—god knows that Remus will do a better job of calming him down—and fumbles for his wand on his nightstand, casting a quick Reparo in the direction of James's bed once he's found it. "Where's Padfoot?" he asks as Remus pauses for breath, realizing that Sirius is nowhere to be found.

"He burst in here, let me know what happened to Meg, and then took off," says James bitterly. "Gid's probably having a team meeting right now that I'm missing."

"So go. Get a plan, figure it out," Remus advises simply.

James shakes his head. "I can't, there is no plan, I—"

Fully awake now, Peter crosses the room and plops down next to James on his bed, giving his best supportive smile. "You had the Map last, right? Find Lily on it, have her heal your hand, and then talk to Gideon. You're James Potter; you can do this."

"I…" James gulps nervously and rakes a hand through his hair. "Lily. All right. The Map is in my trunk, I think…"

Lily's still in her dormitory, as it turns out, so Remus patches him up as best as he can (which isn't too well, but at least the splinters are out) and sends him to the Great Hall to strategize with Gideon. "He'll be fine," Peter says as the door slams shut behind James.

"He always is," Remus agrees; then, smiling, "Ketteridge, huh? I wouldn't have expected it from him; it's been a while since he's terrorized anyone."

"Yeah, well, I'm not surprised," says Peter. Once an oaf, always an oaf: he may not look it, but Peter's not the type to forgive easily.

It's quiet for a moment as Peter changes into his robes and Remus searches for a clean Gryffindor tie. Then, softly, Peter says, "It's not just about our safety, is it?"

And Remus bows his head and closes his eyes, and Peter knows he doesn't want to talk about what he did last full moon, but he answers anyway because they both know Peter won't pry: "No, Wormtail, it's not."

When Remus isn't looking, Peter snatches up the Map James left behind and stuffs it in his pocket.

They change quickly and wait for Lily to emerge from the girls' dormitory, filling her in on Meghan's accident and James's hand on the walk downstairs. True to their expectations, James is in his element when they meet him in the Great Hall. The Gryffindor team is gathered at the end of the table that the seventh years usually frequent, along with a nervous-looking fifth year who Peter assumes is the reserve Chaser. "I heard about what happened. That was low, what Ketteridge did to Meghan," says Lily, frowning and whipping out her wand. "Episkey."

There's a spark of determination in James's eyes when he answers, "If anything, Slytherin's going to pay for what they did to her last night. Robins is filling in as Chaser—I'm taking Seeker."

It's almost like James is a different person outside of their dorm. There's a private James and a public James—insecure, then confident; shaken, then composed. Peter takes one look at Lily's expression and can't help but wonder whether James has ever lost his cool around her.

They part soon after that, leaving the team to their last minute planning. Remus and Lily rejoin the other sixth years, while Peter heads for the Ravenclaw table and takes a seat next to Siobhan Flynn, a fifth year (and a Ravenclaw Beater herself). They've been on a few dates in the last couple of months, and while nothing is official yet, it felt only natural to take her to the first Quidditch game of the year. "Rooting for the Lions, I hope?" he asks, looping an arm around her waist.

Siobhan grins, setting down her spoon. "Well, since it looks like Gryffindor and Hufflepuff will be the teams to beat this year, it is in Ravenclaw's best interests that Slytherin win … hey!" She giggles at Peter's responding scowl. "Gryffindor has their work cut out for them today, though… did you hear about Meghan McCormack?"

"James and Sirius are my roommates; how could I not have heard about Meghan McCormack?" He leans in and grabs a breakfast roll off the table—he's too excited about the match to be hungry, but he still ought to eat something to tide him over until lunch. "Sirius said they think Ketteridge did it—you know Raymond Ketteridge from Slytherin?"

"Ketteridge? You'd think it would have been one of the team members, not him. They're not even in the same year; what's he got against McCormack?" wonders Siobhan before taking another bite of cereal.

"Probably did it on someone else's bidding. Ketteridge isn't nearly clever enough to dream up something like that himself," says Peter darkly.

Siobhan giggles again, then pales and shakes her head. "How're they going to win without McCormack, though? That's what I want to know—I know how you feel about Regulus Black, but he's a damn good Seeker."

"James is playing Seeker. One of the reserves is filling in as Chaser," says Peter, nibbling on the roll.

"Ooh, that'll be interesting to watch," says Siobhan, swallowing. "Potter versus Black, and not the Black he's mates with…"

"One more hour until it all plays out," Peter says with a hint of apprehension. "Anyway, I'm going to go find Remus, but I'll meet you in the stands in half an hour, all right?"

She leans in and pecks him quickly on the lips. "Half an hour," she repeats, smiling.

He lied. He knows exactly where Remus is—at the Gryffindor table, talking to Lily and Alice. No, it's something he has to do, something he should have done a month and a half ago the minute he put the pieces together. The timing is finally right: if all goes well, he'll only be a few minutes late to the game. Almost everyone's attention will be focused on the Quidditch pitch—too focused to notice that he was ever missing at all.

Everyone's attention—but Emmeline's.

xx

The stands are packed, but he finds Siobhan all right—she's near the sixth years' usual spot in the Gryffindor section. "Have I missed anything?" Peter asks her, smiling and leaning in for a hug.

"They're about to start," says Mary as Siobhan kisses his cheek.

"Sorry I'm late; I was talking to Em about that Divination paper. Her marks are fantastic in there," he says hastily by way of explanation.

Good-naturedly, Siobhan shrugs. "No worries. We were just, uh, noticing Alice's double date down there," she says, pointing a ways down and to the left to Alice, Dirk Cresswell, Frank Longbottom, and Dana Madley. "Dana's on the Ravenclaw team with me, and honestly, I have no idea what Frank sees in her."

Peter chuckles, then starts to applaud as he hears Mike McKinnon, one of Marlene's brothers and the usual Quidditch commentator, announcing the start of the game. "And here come the Gryffindors, captained by Chaser Gideon Prewett! There've been a few changes to the lineup this match: this is the first game played by new Beater Anna Moon and reserve Chaser Ryan Robins, and James Potter's first time Seeking, in light of recent pigheadedness I'm sure you've all heard of by now—"

"MCKINNON!" McGonagall was clearly not pleased with Mike's biased commentary.

"Just stating the truth, Professor, it's better for Ravenclaw if Slytherin wins anyway—and speaking of which, here they are! This year's Captain is again Dorcas Meadowes, whom I hear isn't as wretched of a Head Girl as everyone thought—sorry, Professor, I'm just setting the scene—we'll see how her Keeping shapes up against the Gryffindor Captain and reserve! There's just one new member of the team this year, Regulus Black, playing Seeker—will Sirius Black pummel him with Bludgers before he has a chance to catch the Snitch? I know, Professor, but it's just background, he was at my house half the summer, trust me on this."

Peter laughs freely, knowing just how true that is. "Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch interrupts, and Gideon squeezes Meadowes's hand in a death grip as Hooch releases the Snitch and the Bludgers, then throws up the Quaffle and blows her whistle.

"Come on, Prongs, do Meghan proud," Peter murmurs as the players speed into the air. On his way into the sky, James sideswipes Regulus with a sense of cocky competition.

It's going to be an interesting game indeed.

xx

Peter doesn't get overlooked. Okay, so he's quieter than the other Marauders—so what? It's all right by him that they have bolder personalities than he does. Just because he doesn't crack jokes and girls don't fawn over him doesn't make him less. He's a different sort of mate than James and Sirius—softer around the edges, like Remus, but wiser than he is clever—and they value him all the same for it. Everything needs balance, even the Gryffindors, and Peter is perfectly happy to be the dependable one.

But Emmeline is a different kind of quiet, the wrong kind of quiet. She's become a cold, unfriendly sort of girl, frown lines carved into her long forehead—it's been two years, and she's still shutting them out. He feels for her, but she's gone too far.

There's a difference between distance and punishment.

xx

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, caught by fifth year Edgar Bones! It's Bones's third year on the team and first year dating Meghan McCormack, who's out of commission as Seeker after last night's attack, I'll bet that's got him riled—right, Professor—Bones in possession, flanked by Prewett and Robins and heading toward the Slytherin goal-posts, but they're not going to get there as fast as they'd like—nice Bludger from Alecto Carrow, but Prewett catches the Quaffle—Bones is steady again and supporting him—Prewett is in the scoring area—he shoots—he—no! A quick save by Meadowes! Bummer for Prewett, but Meadowes is good, she certainly is—

"And Nott from Slytherin has caught the Quaffle, but Bones and Robins are blocking him easily, they're in standstill—Black from Gryffindor is in a hell of a mood on the field today, excuse my French, that's got to be the fifth or sixth Bludger he's hit that's almost knocked a Slytherin off their broom, is anyone keeping count of these? If Gryffindor could have ten points for every collision—one of Moon's Bludgers makes Nott drop the Quaffle—and— what the hell? Potter in possession? But he's Seeking today! There's no foul in the book for it—clever tactic, especially with his skill, but you've got to realize, Potter, what if Black gets the Snitch because you weren't—and he scores, first goal of the game, ten-zero to Gryffindor! Nott in possession again…"

xx

Oh, there she is—studying in the far corner of the library, just like he predicted. "Em, there you are," he murmurs as he quickly crosses the space between them. (He takes care to keep his voice down: he doesn't need Madam Pince breathing down their necks over the conversation he intends to start.)

"Isn't the match starting soon?" Emmeline points out. Pushing him away—well, that was only to be expected.

I'm sorry for this.

He says, shrugging, "You're not down there, either." She doesn't have a retort for this, so he goes on, dropping his voice, "Why haven't you told anyone that you're an orphan?"

xx

"Another goal from Robins puts the score at thirty-ten for Gryffindor! Prewett in possession… it's a surprisingly clean game from Slytherin today, Meadowes really has cleaned up her team well. She and Fabian Prewett are both fantastic Keepers—Prewett's blocked, what, four of five attempts?—but Potter's involvement and her unfamiliarity with Robins's style have Meadowes missing more goals than usual today, and—Prewett's called a time-out! Did he know beforehand about the stunts Potter's been pulling?

"…That's a penalty to Slytherin for blatching—flying with the intent to collide. Don't be so nasty, Black, you don't want to corrupt Moon so early, it's only her first game, you know—you may loathe your brother, but a Bludger will set him off course just as well, that's no excuse for illegal behavior! I know, Professor—Yaxley scores, thirty-twenty for Gryffindor—"

xx

Emmeline goes deathly still, her quill sliding out of her fingers and dropping softly onto the desk. "Excuse me?" she asks eventually, her voice strangled and high-pitched.

"Come on, there was no way you could have hidden it for long. I mean—" He's trying to be gentle about it, but there's still a blush darkening on Emmeline's otherwise pale cheeks "—it's always your sister who takes you to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and who writes you during the year, and you never mention seeing your mum or dad, not that you've mentioned much of anything to any of us since fourth year when it happened—"

"Shut it," says Emmeline reflexively. Peter trails off, downcast but the tiniest bit satisfied with himself—he's always been good at figuring people out. Without him, who knows how long Remus would have lied about his lycanthropy undetected?

After a few deep breaths and some color lost from her cheeks, Emmeline adds, "Who else knows?"

There's another implication in her question: whom else did you tell? "Just me," says Peter, and she looks a bit relieved at the news. "But I know Alice is onto something, and you ought to tell her if she asks. It's only a matter of time before it all comes out. We're your mates, Em, we're the ones who will be there for you when you need someone to talk to; that you turn to, to get through the hard stuff—"

"You think I need your lot in my life?" says Emmeline harshly, "that it isn't maddening to me to hear all your little rumors and your gossip when I know how far you are from the bigger picture? Please. It's insulting to be around you."

xx

"Potter in possession again, I don't know whether he's a genius or a fool—he's swerving to avoid one of the Carrows's Bludgers, Moon hits the other one out of his way—he's approaching the goalposts—he drops the Quaffle, Potter drops the Quaffle, he's catapulting toward Meadowes—has he seen the Snitch by the hoops? He's lucky he noticed it, honestly, though I'm sure Black's Bludgers could have compensated if Black were to see it and Potter weren't—Black is tailing him, but he hasn't quite caught up, he's—they're—for Meghan, Potter!—no, dammit, Black, now he's lost sight of it! And—yes, Hooch has called it, penalty to Gryffindor for blagging, or pulling another player's broom tail!"

xx

"It's not, though. I know you think you're so much more… perceptive, I guess, than the rest of us, and you probably are, but that doesn't mean that everyone else is shallow," Peter defends weakly. He's sadder than anything about what's happened to Em, to their friendship, and he's sure it's starting to show. "Sirius and Marlene had to run away from home last summer, it got so bad with them and their families, and Lily lost her parents, went through the exact same thing as you—but she didn't cut us out. She barely even knew any of us before that blowout she had with Snape, and she only really talked to James and Marlene when her parents died, but even she realized she could turn to us—and you didn't?"

"Lily's not smart, she's dependent. I thought she had the right idea about things for the last five years, but no, the minute her mate does something against her, she goes running into someone else's arms," Emmeline snaps.

Peter sighs, "It's not like that—you did the same as Lily did, jumping straight from Sirius to Maggie McKinnon. Only difference is that now you're the one acting like you're so much better than the other Gryffindors, and that hurts, Em, it really does."

She doesn't have anything to say to that at first, finally muttering, "You ought to know why I quit on Sirius, if you claim to know so much about me."

He replies, "None of it was Sirius's fault, and you know it. Don't punish him for what happened to you. You're no better than him or the rest of us just because you've been through things, Em, and you know, the thing is, all of us care about you and would want nothing more than to be there for you if we knew that anything was wrong, but you're too caught up in your… your disillusionment to bother appreciating it, or even seeing it."

Since Madam Pince is starting to look aggravated by their whispers, he turns to go, adding over his shoulder, "I hope you know what you're doing, Em, I really do."

xx

"And Meadowes blocks a goal from Bones—she's back on her game, now that Potter is looking for the Snitch like he ought to, but he's already helped put Gryffindor in a considerable lead of seventy to thirty. Slytherin in possession, Amycus Carrow on the verge of bludgeoning the Gryffindor team to death, Sirius Black looks tame in comparison right now—didn't they get in a row last week? Of course, Professor, I am focusing on the game—Prewett lets in Nott's goal—Gryffindor in possession again—it's seventy-forty in Gryffindor's favor, Slytherin is catching up—"

xx

Peter doesn't get overlooked in part because he's not interested in falling through the cracks. Emmeline, on the other hand, can't say the same. And it looks like it's up to Peter to show her that it doesn't have to be this way, ugly truth and all.

He hopes it's not too late to forgive and forget.

xx

"Potter, that better be the Snitch you're chasing, Gryffindor's only twenty points ahead now—Slytherin's been gaining on you for an hour and a half, there's not much more of this that three of us houses can take—shut it, Professor, Black is gaining on him, Black is ahead of him—BLACK CATCH—no? NO! BLACK KNOCKS BLACK OUT OF THE WAY WITH A BLUDGER TO THE HEAD, CLEARING THE WAY FOR—POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS, TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY TO SIXTY!"

xx

McGonagall would never have allowed the after-party to go on until three o'clock in the morning—but then, Gideon Prewett was in too good a mood to complain, none of the other prefects minded as long as Gideon was all right with it, and nobody who wasn't a prefect was dumb enough to report it to McGonagall. Besides, Edgar Bones and Fabian Prewett didn't manage to sneak Meghan McCormack out of the Hospital Wing until half past two, and it wouldn't be fair to Meghan if the festivities ended without her, would it, after all she'd been through in the last twenty-four hours?

Peter's dancing with James when Meghan comes up to congratulate him on his performance on the field. Edgar's pedaling her over in a contraption called a wheelchair, something Mary says that Muggles use all the time in hospitals when they're not strong enough to walk. Peter thinks it's bizarre-looking and unnecessary, but after all, Meghan is on bed-rest for a week; it wouldn't do to aggravate Madam Pomfrey any further than she will be when she finds out that one of her patients is missing.

Pomfrey's potions have her a little dizzy, but she's lucid enough to communicate, at least. "Potter!" she calls, her speech a bit slurred from Pomfrey's regimen, but her eyes are bright and excited. "Eddie says you were a hero today."

"Did he?" laughs James, letting go of Peter for a moment to clap Meghan on the shoulder, grinning at her and Edgar. "Because Lily and Gid keep telling me I was just being a flashy show-off and came close to losing the game for us instead of winning it."

"Gid's an arse, and Evans doesn't understand Quidditch," says Meghan. "You lot call yourselves pranksters, right? Can't say that unless you've got a few stunts up your sleeve."

James smiles, rumpling up his hair. "Honored to have done it, but no one could ever replace you, Meg."

Peter takes this as his cue to leave, struggling to find a familiar face in the crowd. Reaching the hearth, he finally catches sight of another sixth year—Mary's curled up on the sofa, guzzling down a butterbeer but otherwise on the verge of falling asleep. "Hey, Mare," he greets, plopping down next to her and prying the drink out of her hands. "You look like you're about ready to turn in," Peter adds, smiling faintly.

"Reckon so, yeah," Mary yawns. "What time is it?"

"A little after three—no, that's enough butterbeer, any more and you'll be up all night," says Peter, kind but firm, and he sets it on the coffee table in front of them.

She curls up against him, half in his lap, slipping her arms around his waist. "I miss Reg," she says abruptly, to which Peter doesn't know what to tell her, but she quickly adds, "Why aren't you with James or Rem or Sirius?"

"James is talking to Meghan, and Remus and Sirius are… somewhere," he says vaguely, not entirely sure himself.

"Oh," accepts Mary. "So why are you with me instead of them?"

"I like being with you," says Peter honestly. Mary smiles blearily, as if hearing this is a pleasant surprise, and Peter feels a rush of empathy for his mate, holding her close and resting his cheek against the top of her head for a moment. "Come on, let's get you upstairs. Do you want me to find Alice or someone to help you up, or can you make it on your own?" he asks after a pause.

Mary gets up, stretching and waking up a little. "I'm tired, Pete, not tipsy. It's just butterbeer," she says crossly, then adds, "Oh, and Alice thinks Siobhan is perky."

"Perky?" repeats Peter with a grin as he stands as well. "Now that you mention it…"

He walks her to the bottom of the girls' staircase, then quietly bids her goodnight. She gives him a little wave as she starts to mount the staircase, which he warmly returns.

When he turns around, something chapped and insistent presses hard against his mouth.

It's Emmeline—Emmeline!—who pulls away, her cheeks bright red and a grin on her face. "I know. I'm sorry," she says immediately. "I'm going to regret this tomorrow, and I don't know what the hell I'm doing here, and I know you have a girlfriend—"

"Siobhan isn't my girlfriend," says Peter breathlessly, taken aback, his mouth miles ahead of his mind. "Not officially, anyway. We go out sometimes—"

"Stop talking so much," says Emmeline. It's like she's a whole new person after one conversation and a butterbeer or two, and he fleetingly wonders whether she's been bottling herself up, waiting for someone to take note of her. "I'm going to kiss you again," she says now, matter-of-factly, and Peter could swear that she's glowing, vivacious, alive.

"You shouldn't," Peter says, but they both know he doesn't really mean it.

He supposes that… she ought to be scared, and he ought to be flabbergasted, but—they're not. She's beaming, and he's nodding, and he kisses back the second time she leans in.