Disclaimer: See Prologue
A/N: Random insight into my life for you; this was acted out in an English study session just for the laughs. I improvised Peter and my friends did Sirius and Lupin. Hope you enjoy. Candy~
Oh, and incidentally, you can still buy SuperBike!

Peter fidgeted. He rolled two small wooden balls around in his hands and bit his lower lip, flinching as he cut it.

Harry began to wonder if this was the side of Peter who actually gave a damn that he was betraying his friends in the lowest way imaginable. Was this the Peter who knew what would happen to the people he claimed to hold dear to him? Was this the Peter who was afraid for his friends?

Sirius laughed, this time with genuine mirth.

Perhaps it wasn't that side of Peter then.

January 1980

Peter frowned slightly at his reflection. Was it cameras that added ten pounds or mirrors? It had to be mirrors, surely. His face was not this round usually and nor was his midriff.

"Remember when we all bought suits last April?"

Lupin looked up from his book and wondered where this question was headed. "Yes…"

Peter's nose twitched in distaste. "Does yours still fit?"

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "I haven't the faintest clue. I've been keeping it for when I desperately need a suit and I haven't; not since James' wedding." He unwrapped a sherbet lemon with a quick twist of his fingers and sucked on it as he thought. "Why?"

Peter stared on in awe. "How can you do it?"

"Unwrap a sherbet lemon?"

"No, idiot!" cried Peter, punching Lupin's arm in an exasperated but affectionate manner. "Eat all that sugar and not put on a pound, how do you do it?"

Lupin smiled knowingly. "It's a wolf thing."

"Tickets are here!"

Lupin grinned. "Thanks, Nance! Do you want to keep them? I'll only lose them."

Peter caught sight of her hair before he met Nancy Clarke for the second time. He barely remembered what she looked like but she had not been the owner of a bright, bottle blonde spiral perm when they had last met in June. Nor had she been wearing Sirius' spare leathers.

"Hello, Peter."

"Hello, Mrs. Clarke."

"Ms," Nancy corrected. "The divorce papers came yesterday."

Lupin breathed a sigh of relief. This was no longer immoral and hypocritical. He need not beat himself up any further. Her husband was now officially out of the picture.

"Anyway," she said, turning to her ridiculously young lover. "Sirius offered me a lift home. I hate driving through London on that thing. I just know I'm going to come off it. If I don't see you tomorrow, blame him."

Lupin laughed and, very conscious of Peter who refused to look away, kissed her cheek and bid her goodnight. Exasperated was not the word as he turned to his friend.

"Peter, if it bothers you that much, diet."

Peter groaned. "I can't. You know what my willpower is like."

Lupin rolled his eyes. "Exercise then. I get away with chocolate for breakfast because I run round like a mad thing once a month. I spend the rest of my time cleaning up after Sirius, I need the energy."

Peter, infuriating as ever, continued to argue. "I hate running. I can't run, Remus. James told me I was a health and safety hazard when I ran and God help me, he was right. I can't swim, I don't play a sport and I draw the line at Pilates."

"You just need to find something that works for you, Pete. If you don't mind, I have a lot of work to do. I have to do my lesson plans for tomorrow so…"

Peter sighed. "It's okay. I'm going."

Half an hour later, he was back, beaming and irritating the hell out of Sirius because Lupin, who had the patience of a saint, had demanded absolute silence in the living room while he worked.

In the shared kitchen, Sirius had been frying chicken to put into a renowned Marauder sandwich. Frying had involved flicking his wand, listening to the hiss of it and his flatmate's groans of near starvation, while he flicked through SuperBike.

"If you're that hungry, Moony, eat something."

Lupin clicked his tongue. "What did I just say? I want quiet!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I don't like you in teacher mode."

"I need to get my head around subtracting fractions. So be quiet."

Pop!

"I've got it!"

Sirius jumped as Peter Apparated into the small kitchen. "Pete, what the hell?"

"My diet!"

"Shhh!" Lupin hissed from the living room desk.

Sirius pulled a face and slammed the door shut. Hurriedly, he smothered two slices of bread with tomato ketchup and Branston Pickle, gagging quietly but oddly content.

"Is that the sandwich?" asked Peter. "I haven't had one in two years."

"Good," said Sirius. "They're full of fat and you were about to tell me about this diet of yours."

Peter beamed at him. "It's called 'Fiddle Yourself Thin'."

Sirius snorted, almost spitting out the bite of his sandwich. "It's called what?"

"Fiddle Yourself Thin," Peter repeated. "It involves using your thumbs to just play with parts of your body."

Somehow, Sirius kept a straight face. "Oh yeah?"

Peter nodded enthusiastically. "And occasionally, you can use your balls."

Sirius was forced to put down the sandwich as his hands, as was the rest of him, were shaking with suppressed laughter. "Right, so you use your thumbs to play with your balls and suddenly you're a stone lighter?"

Peter continued to grin and nod inanely. "Good, isn't it?"

"Oh very, yeah. What do you eat on this diet then?"

Peter sat beside him and in the manner of one about to bequeath a great secret, said in low, hushed tones, "That's the beauty of it; you don't have to change a thing. The book said that small changes can make a huge difference."

"They can indeed," said Sirius, nodding sagely. "But the thumbs seem an odd choice. Could you not go with the whole hand?"

Peter clicked his tongue. "Of course not! You'd look like a right idiot then."

"Peter, who the hell is going to be looking at you?"

"It could be anyone," Peter replied. "That's the great thing about it. You can fiddle just about anywhere. I could do it in the street if I wanted."

Sirius' eyes were almost the size of the saucer he had placed the sandwich on. "What? Peter, that's asking for trouble. That's sick!"

Peter frowned. "What is?"

"Fiddling with your balls in the street! In fact, I'm fairly sure it's illegal!"

Peter pulled out a small pouch from his pocket. "What? No. Look. I'll show you my balls."

Sirius stood suddenly, pushing the table in his hurry. "No, Peter. Really, you don't have to. I'm ashamed that I can imagine what they look like. REMUS!"

The door was flung open.

"What? What the hell is it this time?"

"Peter's trying to show me his balls."

Lupin stared open mouthed. "I beg your pardon?"

"His balls! He's trying to get them out and show me!"

Lupin closed his eyes. This was not his life; it couldn't be. "What are expecting me to do about it, get the camera and snap it?"

Sirius' eyes lit up. "Yeah and then we'll put it on pamphlets and post it round Diagon Alley. 'Have you seen this wizard's balls?' Keep him there!"

Lupin shook his head. "There is something very wrong with you."

Peter, finally catching on, pulled out a small pouch. "Worry balls. Look." He began to roll them across his palms. "That helps you burn calories."

CLICK!

"Give me that!" cried Lupin, snatching his camera back. "That's quite enough. A class of thirty school children is nothing compared to you."

"They try and get their balls out for you too, do they?"

"I am this close to kicking you out."

"Yeah, Peter. Out!"

"Both of you. Now! I'll be finished at nine, you can come back then."

Sirius smirked. "No problem. After I charmingly dropped your cradle-snatching girlfriend home, driving the Muggle way round London and incidentally, Remus, you have no idea what that's like until you do it; I'll nip round your Mum's place, shall I?"

Peter tried not to smile; really he did.

"Get in the living room," Lupin snapped. "You can test me on my fractions."