A/N: I just realized that anyone who has me on his or her Author Alert is getting a whole bunch of totally useless e-mails. Sorry you guys!

When Remus had asked him earlier if he'd seen James, Peter had begun to worry. Now, with the hours steadily passing and still no sign of their friend, Peter was starting to panic. He'd only managed to pick up scattered details throughout the day of exactly what had happened. It amounted to, as far as he could tell, James kissing Lily and then kissing Regulus and deciding he liked Regulus- then being stupid enough to tell this to Sirius.

Now, Peter adored James truly. He had since their first meeting on the train, but even he had to admit that James had a stupid streak that showed itself at the worst times. Like now, for instance.

Remus and Sirius had both agreed it was perfectly safe for Peter to run around as Wormtail that night and look for James as long as he avoided any mousetraps. Peter had tried to point out that he was- of course- smart enough to know that already but they had ignored him. He chalked that up to their worry for James, and had done as he was told.

Now, as he scampered a long looking through little rat eyes, his real concern was the caretaker's cat. He wasn't sure why all the caretakers he'd ever met had cats, but they did and when one was rat that was a bad thing.

He was so busy looking out for said cat that he didn't see James until he ran into his foot.

'Ouch,' Peter thought, turning back into his human form and rubbing his head. "Dumb rat eye sight."

Blinking his blue eyes until they adjusted to the dark, he looked down at his apparently sleeping friend. He knew better than to hope a rat running into his foot would wake James. A rat running across his face probably wouldn't waken him.

Turning his blond head slightly, Peter found he could see James's face better. The other boy looked so…relaxed. Certainly more so then he had in the last few months. Looking at his face, Peter couldn't bring himself to wake him. Not just yet.

Instead, he leaned against the wall and sat on his knees. "When did all this get to be so complicated?" He wondered aloud, looking down at his slightly pudgy hands. He had thought for the longest time that the world was simple. James loved Lily. Remus studied. Padfoot was a jerk. Life outside of Hogwarts didn't matter.

This year, however, it had mattered. It had mattered that James's parents had died. It had mattered that Death Eaters had killed Peter's father that summer…

Peter shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. He hadn't told anyone. He had been going to, really, but he saw the looks of pity James had received and his parents had died of old age. He didn't know, and didn't want to know, what he would get if his friends knew about his father.

"It's funny, you know," Peter told the still slumbering James, "I really thought that we'd stay like this forever. I really thought we'd always just be Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail. Except now, we've grown up. We've grown up without meaning to or even really realizing it. We can't go back, but we don't want to go forward."

Turning his head slightly, he gently brushed a few strands of hair out of his friend's eyes. James muttered in his sleep, and Peter smiled. "I bet you know exactly what you want to do with your life. I'll bet you're not afraid of going forward. You never are. You deserve to be a Gryffindor. Not like me."

Leaning his head against the wall, Peter looked up at the ceiling he couldn't see in the still dark. "I wish my Dad was here. He was never afraid either. He always knew exactly where to go and how to win everyone. Except for them. I watched him die you know. I was too afraid to help him…I just hid in the closet and…"

Peter buried his head in his hands now, a soft sob escaping his throat. It had been horrible. They had raided the house. Peter had helped his mother and three little sisters to get out, and then gone back to help his father. His father had told him to run, but then it was almost too late. Instead, he had pushed Peter into the closet.

He could still hear his father screaming from the Cruciatus curse when he was in that place between waking and dreaming…

"Maybe," he whispered, "if I had been brave like you, I could have saved him. Maybe…"

"Pete?"

Peter jumped, lifting his head to find James staring at him. James picked his glasses up from where they had fallen on the floor and stared at his friend. Peter simply stared back, not daring to speak.

When it became evident that James wasn't going to say anything, Peter asked meekly, "how long have you been awake?"

"Long enough," James said simply, sitting beside his friend. "How come you didn't tell us? We could have helped."

"Don't see how. Whether or not you knew he was still dead. Besides, it was all over the Daily Prophet…"

"We all stopped taking the Prophet ages ago, Wormtail, you know that. It's far too depressing."

"Well…you had enough to worry about. It didn't change anything. Not really."

"It changed you," James whispered. Peter didn't respond, so James continued. "It explains a lot, actually."

"Like what?"

"Like why you grew up. Like why you don't smile anymore. Why you keep having nightmares…"

"You knew about my nightmares and never said anything!" Peter asked, horrified. "What kind of friend are you?"

"I could ask the same thing to you. I was kind of hoping you trust me enough to tell me what they were about, but you never did."

Peter hung his head, ashamed. "I don't want to be a bother…"

James smiled, reaching out and ruffling Peter's hair. "You're never a bother, Wormtail. You're one of us. You're problems are my problems."

"Works both ways," Peter said. James frowned, but didn't answer, so Peter pressed on. "Do you want Remus and I to handle Padfoot?"

"I don't think you can handle Padfoot right now. I kind of preformed the ultimate no-no this time."

"I'll say you did. You told him you stupid deer."

"Stag."

"Whatever. But you and Padfoot have a friendship that's stronger than that. Remus and I will handle him, and he'll cool down. He'll see it really doesn't matter, in the end, who you fancy."

James groaned, leaning his head against his knees. "I've really screwed up this time, Pete. I don't know if we can fix this. Everyone hates me…"

"What am I, mashed carrots?"

"Okay, so you don't hate me."

"Neither does Remus."

"Okay, neither does Remus."

"Or Padfoot."

"Don't push it."

"He doesn't, Prongs. Not really. I don't think that Regulus does, either. Not if Evans is to be believed. She might hate you…if she can…which I doubt."

"So not helpful," but James was smiling now. Peter hoisted himself to his feet and offered a hand down to his friend, which James too gratefully. "Thanks, Peter."

"Any time, Prongs. Any time."