Bohemian Rhapsody

moment twenty: that's the end of the dream (September 11, 1976.)

Peter lay helpless and sniffling in the Hospital Wing, his arms on top of the covers surrounding his body, his head resting on about five pillows. And still he felt awful. Madam Pomfrey was busy in the medicine room mixing up some remedies for the typical Quidditch injuries that were expected in tomorrow's match, and had no time for a Sixth Year with a particularly nasty dose of flu. Magical healing, like Muggle medicine, hadn't progressed much further beyond the 'take lots of bed rest and drink lots of fluid' prescription, and so Peter was confined to the Hospital Wing to rest and get better, hopefully making sure the flu wouldn't spread much beyond him.

There was a slight tap at the door, and Peter inched his head in a vain attempt to see who it was. "Come in!" he hissed through a sore throat, "Madam Pomfrey's just in the annex," which caused a bout of coughing. He heard someone lightly step into the room, and hold onto his shoulder, adding another pillow to the pile while the coughing fit worked its way out. He looked up, surprised. Out of all the people who could have visited him, this was not one he expected.

Lily Evans stood there, a gentle smile on her face, her green eyes alert as always. In her hand was a small steaming bowl of something. "I got the house elves to make you up something when I heard you were ill, Peter," she said, acknowledging his glance at the earthenware bowl. "Chicken soup. My mother always used to make it up when I was ill with the flu and stuff."

She took the food tray off the bedside table and settled it on his lap, keeping it stable with a softly muttered spell under her breath, and placed the bowl in front of him. Digging a spoon out her pocket, she brushed it on her robes and placed it next to the bowl, blushing slightly. "I nicked that from the kitchen too, so don't you tell anyone," Lily admonished, sitting onto the chair next to the bed, brushing her red hair off her face.

Peter blinked, and greedily started slurping up the soup. He'd been served dinner less than an hour ago, but the flu left him weak and hungry, and it smelt awfully good. In between gulps, he asked her why she came to visit him.

"Oh, Madam Pomfrey noted you hadn't had any visitors all day," she replied, nodding, "and as one of the Gryffindor Prefects and someone in your own year, I felt I should pop in and see how you were."

Peter's heart sank. It wasn't anything personal, then. She didn't know him, didn't care, was just doing it for the House. Typical. He thought that perhaps she might consider him a friend by association, as she did hang out with James quite a bit, before he started going out with Lucius. But it seemed not. He was always destined to be the one in the shadows. "Thank you," he mumbled, finishing the soup. His appetite was gone, but it seemed rude to refuse it now.

Lily looked around. "I would have thought James or one of the others would be here."

Fat chance, thought Peter, but didn't reply. They only see me when they have a need for me.

"Where is James, anyway?"

"Spent the day with Lucius, as far as I know. And from the looks of things, he'll be spending the night too."

Lily snorted, and Peter understood with a sudden insight that she was jealous, and in her own way, just as needy for reassurance as he was. "He's spending all his time with bloody Lucius bloody Malfoy, and paying no attention to his responsibilities! We were supposed to be meeting up tonight to discuss what to do with this tosser from second year, but no, James has other plans. Doesn't he realise his grades are slipping, not to mention the respect people had for him? And I have to do all the damn work now." She took a deep breath, and smiled bashfully at the man lying besides her. "Sorry."

Peter shook his head. "It's fine. I can imagine what you're going through."

"I just needed someone to talk to, or rant at...it's probably rather selfish of me." Lily rubbed her forehead, and moved on from their brief moment of connection. "What about Remus or Sirius?"

Peter resisted the temptation to laugh. Remus might see me, but there's no love lost between Sirius and I. We just happen to have the same friends, really, he reflected, musing on their friendship. "Perhaps. What date is it again?"

Lily looked at him. "The eleventh. Why?"

Peter bit back a curse. The full moon. With him sick in bed, and James off having sex, it seemed that Sirius had been left to temper the wolf by himself. "Oh, nothing."

The redhead nodded, her curiosity absent. After a few moments, she spoke. "I should probably go now, Peter. Is there anything you need?"

Everyone to stop treating me like a thing would be nice, he chorused internally, bitter. "No, of course not."

"Bye, then." She rose to go, and walked toward the door.

"Lily?"

"Hmm?" Lily turned to face him, her face cast into shadow in the pale lamp-light, her eyes sparkling and the soft colour of her hair suiting the half shadow. She looked gorgeous.

"Do you think I'm a pity case?"

Her smooth brow was furrowed in thought. "No, whatever do you mean?"

"Sometimes I think they use me as a pity case. Look at us, aren't we clever, we rescued this loser from mediocrity and allowed him to hang out with us, the cool people, and helped him pass his classes. Aren't we bloody clever." His tone was bleak.

"I know they don't think of you as a pity case," she said gently.

"I've always felt that I'll never get to be one of the cool people. I'll always be the outsider looking in."

Lily smiled softly. "Peter, everyone thinks that. That's what makes you just like everyone else." She turned, and left without another word.

Peter sagged against the pillows and tried to sleep. Great. He really was mediocre.

He felt somewhat better the following morning, and managed to stagger down to the Great Hall for breakfast, his body aching. Curious as to how Sirius had coped on his own, Peter was greeted with a sight that indicated that things had indeed gone well: Remus Lupin and Sirius Black sitting side-by-side at the Gryffindor table. This was in itself hardly a special occurrence - except that Remus - the same Remus who refused to dance with anyone during the Yule Ball, and had more physical intimacy issues than anyone - had his arm draped around Sirius' shoulders, and was whispering in his ear, a wide grin on his face.

As Peter painfully sat down to eat, Remus nodded to him, beaming, clearly on top of the world. "I heard you were sick."

Peter nodded back, stirring the cereal round his bowl. "I was. Somewhat better now, though."

Remus nodded again, absently playing with Sirius' shaggy hair, and leaned over to Peter. "Do you want to meet up for study after class? Go over anything you don't get?"
Peter tried not to stiffen in his seat. Thanks, Remus, he bitched internally. Just make me look like an idiot in front of the whole House, why don't you?

At that point, James made his way in, his face tired, but happily so, and a few moments later, Lily sat down next to him, both of them trying not to grin at the sight of Remus and Sirius, although Peter noticed that James and Lily barely glanced at each other - indeed, Lily seemed almost to move away from her fellow Prefect, as if shunning him. Maybe she'd had that talk with him when he'd returned this morning. Maybe it hadn't gone so well.

Finally, the woman could resist it no longer, chiding them fondly. "It's about time!", Lily said, leaning over the table to beam at them.

Remus and Sirius paused and looked at each other. "Yeah," said Remus. "We thought so too, didn't we?" Sirius just smiled, and bent down to kiss his partner chastely on the lips.

"What," James catcalled, "No tongue?"

Sirius turned to grin at his best friend. "I thought you would have gotten enough of that last night," he commented dryly, which sent James staring into his cereal, and blushing a bright red.

Peter watched the tableau, all the more aware of his place as detached observer. Everyone had someone else, in their own way. Everyone had a place in their little soap opera.

Everyone except him. And the thought dug into his heart, and cankered.