Chapter Text
July 1978, London
Peter remained alone in the empty apartment, James and Sirius’s excited voices echoing against the walls of the cramped staircase. The living room was empty but bathed in natural light, with curtains that reminded Peter of those in their old dorm rooms. There were marks on the walls where picture frames had been hung by the previous occupants, and glass rings on the coffee table.
Peter could imagine coming back here every evening after work, meeting up with his friends, and opening a butterbeer while they all complained about their bosses. There was enough space in the kitchen for James to cook as much as he wanted, and it was close enough to the Muggle world for Remus to get to work easily.
It was the kind of place they had talked about when they were fifteen and crammed together in James's bed. It was the kind of place he had always dreamed of, something that would belong to him—to them.
This was the place where his best friends were going to live without him.
“You’re coming, Pete?” Remus asked, waiting for him in the doorway.
“Yeah,” Peter replied, forcing his feet to finally move.
He took one last glance at the flat that could have been his, at the what-could-have-been and the ghost of unheard laughter. If he had been a different person, he could have been happy here. If he had money, if his mother was in good health, if his father hadn't run away.
If, if, if.
"It's nice here," Remus said as they went down the stairs. “I think Sirius and James fell in love.”
“Yeah,” Peter echoed distantly, unable to say more.
Bitterness brewed in his throat as he slowly descended the steps. He hated that his mother was ill, and more than anything, he hated that he had to take care of her instead of living his own life. Did that make him a bad person? Probably. James and Remus would never think that about their own mothers. Sirius would, but he had always been a little disturbed in the head.
Remus stopped two steps below him and looked at him worriedly. At this height, he could look Peter straight in the eyes.
“Are you okay? You've been silent all day,” Remus noticed.
"Yeah," Peter said for the third time. When Remus's gaze intensified, he clarified. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Moony, Wormtail! Hurry up, I'm starving,” Sirius called out from the street.
Remus turned to Peter apologetically, “Tell me later?”
Peter, who had considered talking about his mother to Remus—after all, who else among the four of them could understand the difficulties that came with a lack of money—closed his mouth and shoved his hands into his pockets. He would have time later, and he had to tell the guys about it sooner or later anyway.
There was no point in repeating himself.
“Sure,” Peter shrugged. “We wouldn't want Sirius to starve to death.”
He had intended to sound playful, but it came out more acidic than expected. Not that Remus noticed this time, already halfway down the stairs. He hurried to join them, forcing a small smile onto his face when James put his arm around his shoulders.
“We were thinking of going to the Leaky for lunch. You’re in?”
Remus and Sirius were already walking hand in hand towards the building, with Remus blushing every time Sirius whispered in his ear. Peter's answer wouldn't change the situation much.
“Let's go,” he said in response and started to walk without waiting for James.
James easily caught up with him, walking like someone who knew he owned the world. Peter was content to walk alongside him for the time being.
“What does Lily think of the flat?” Peter asked.
“Well, if we choose that one, I'll give her a tour tomorrow, but I'm sure she'll love the book shelves,” James answered with a dopey grin.
These were their requirements for finding a flat: close to the Muggle subway for Remus, plenty of light for James, a place to keep his bike for Sirius, and, apparently, book shelves for Lily.
Peter pushed open the door of the Leaky, smiling through his teeth, “That’s nice.”
Sirius and Remus were already sitting in their usual spot a little way off—Remus had trouble with the noise in confined spaces—and Peter sat down opposite them.
“So, how awesome is this flat?” Sirius asked no one in particular, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Don't you already have a flat?” Peter said with a raised eyebrow.
Sirius waved him off, “It’s totally different, Wormy. The other is my uncle’s. This one would be just for us four. We should celebrate!”
Peter hated ruining his enthusiasm—everyone's joy, really. Sirius could be an arrogant piece of shit sometimes, but that was the way Peter liked him, and it wasn't in his nature to hurt his friends.
“About that,” Peter started, scratching the skin around his nails.. “I don't think… I won't be able to live with you next year.”
“What! Why?” James complained.
Peter turned to James and looked him in the eyes as he spoke, “Mum is getting sicker and sicker. She needs someone to take care of her.”
Looking James in the face meant seeing his face crumble at the realization that the woman who had known him since he was a little boy, who had made him cookies and healed his scraped knees, was ill.
“I'm so sorry,” James said, putting his arms around Peter. “Is there anything we can do? I can ask my parents if they can look after her or something like that.”
Remus reached across the table to place his hand on Peter's, and Sirius's face took on a grim expression. Peter blinked to fight back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. The grateful smile that formed on his lips was genuine this time, because he had confirmation that his friends cared about him.
“No, it's okay. I can do it on my own,” Peter refused. “I'm just going to have to visit you from time to time.”
Peter was a good son; he was able to take care of his mother himself. This was the woman who had raised and loved him for eighteen years all by herself. It was the least he could do to repay her. That's what he had been doing every summer for years.
"We can have a guest room with your name on it," James promised. “No man left behind.”
“He's right,” Remus added. “And who knows? She might be better in a few months, and you’ll be able to come and live with us.”
“Family is important,” Sirius cleared his throat. It sounded strange coming from him, as if he didn't really understand what he was saying. But it made sense in a way. “You’re doing the right thing.”
That didn't mean it didn’t suck. But Peter was a good person.
James squeezed Peter on the shoulder and raised his hand to order four shots of fire whiskey. Sirius picked up one of the small glasses and raised it in the air, his eyes fixed on Peter for once. Peter wasn't sure if he liked it.
“To Wormtail, who is being the most adult among us today,” Sirius said solemnly. “Growing up sucks.”
"To Wormtail," James and Remus echoed his toast.
The sound of their glasses clinking together sounded like a promise, but they had all made promises that they hadn't kept.
“Growing up sucks,” Peter repeated, tilting his head back to down the shot.