Something had happened. He knew it. Something had happened tonight and no one was going to tell him about it. Everyone had been acting really strange as they got ready for bed and Peter was sure he had seen a cut on Sirius's arm before he had shoved a T-shirt on to sleep in. James had been really twitchy when he came back, but for once neither Sirius nor Remus had wanted to say anything – nothing about the news over dinner, and no pranks or study they wanted his help with either.
Peter had watched it all. They barely noticed him, and when he tried to engage them in games or conversation all he had got was disinterested looks or terse comments to leave it alone. This always happened! No matter what he did, nothing was good enough for these posers! Not even the werewolf! You'd think a creature like that wouldn't be so picky, but those two had actually made him think he was as worthwhile as anyone else.
He took another glug from the bottle of whiskey. The room was flooded with moonlight, but Peter sat safe in the dark behind his curtains with his only true friend. The neck of the bottle felt comfortable in his grasp as he swilled the contents back and forth rhythmically. It had been full when he started, but he'd been needing more and more recently – it was the only thing that could still the bitter, spiteful voices in his head, the only way he could sleep in peace without his dreams taunting him. Some day…some day he had promised himself that he would be important, that he would be the centre of attention, that no one would ever tease him again just because they could.
Slowly he felt his eyes begin to close and his grip become unsteady. One last swig and he stowed the bottle away, safe from these boys who thought they were so hard, thought they could ignore Peter Pettigrew.