Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter. I'm a broke college student, so please don't sue me.

A/N: I've been a HP fan for years and I've always had fics planned out in my head, but I've never actually gotten around to writing one. Today I was talking with a friend and the conversation sparked the inspiration for this fic which more or less just wrote itself. I'll let you all decide whether or not it's a good foray into the fandom. Hope you enjoy!

(Absolutely no Marauder hate intended, by the way! They're actually my favorite characters. I'm just playing around with them from a different viewpoint.)

Having been something of acquaintances since the start of first year, Remus is the one who actually brings him into the group. They're only second years then, and the future Marauders have already formed a reputation for themselves that intimidates Peter more than he would like to admit. They're the it kids- the ones that used to push Peter around and steal his lunchbox at the Muggle school he'd gone to prior to Hogwarts. They were the ones who would snicker at him for liking a pretty girl, and then take her by the hand and lead her away, making the message clear that he should not, and would not, ever speak to her again. (And he's quite sure that Sirius Black did the same thing to one of the Hufflepuff boys just the week before Peter joined the group.)

He felt out of place from the start and though they were all friendly- James frequently offered to tutor him in Charms, Remus always shared his sweets, Sirius never failed to make him laugh- he sensed that none of them are actually his friend. The three of them were always together, always joking and laughing and getting into trouble, and Peter was just the one that was there. He'd be there in the common room, ready to listen when they traipsed back in from pranking the Slytherins, and he'd be there to help them study or to bounce ideas off of or to tease when no one else was around.

"Been hanging around Snivellus or something?" James would ask, giving him a good natured thump on the back. "Your hair's starting to look a little greasy there, Pete…"

Occasionally he'd be included in their mischief- like the time they charmed cans of shaving cream to look like whipped cream and replaced all the actual whipped cream in the kitchen refrigerators- but mostly, he was mostly just there to stand guard. Their watchdog, they used to call him- long before they'd mastered their Animagus transformation, after which he simply became "The Rat".

And of course it had been Sirius- the one who never had learned to filter his words- who had pointed out the irony after their first transformation. "He is our little spy," he'd barked, shaking his head. "Has slightly pointy front teeth there too, doesn't he?"

Peter once bit his finger after a similar comment, and Sirius had shoved him so hard that he'd toppled off their bench at lunch, leaving him in a eerily similar position to that of an incident from the Muggle school that had resulted in him being stuck in a sandbox.

And it's not like they were mean boys, because they really weren't. Arrogant, and slightly annoying at times, but they each had some of the most redeeming qualities that Peter has ever seen. It could easily be said that Remus was one of the kindest people on the planet, and though he hid it well, Sirius was one of the most compassionate.

And then there was James, who everyone wished they could be. James, who had the best sense of humor, and who was immeasurably intelligent, and who harbored both Remus' kindness and Sirius' compassion. James, who was handsome, and didn't have greasy hair and pointy teeth and bad skin.

James had everything, and it was Peter who envied and admired him the most, and so of course it was Peter who he so frequently pushed aside. And for all that a friendship with Remus and Sirius could offer, they simply weren't James Potter, and nothing would change that.

But he'd hung around with them, and he laughed and drank with Sirius and read and conversed with Remus, but he always felt like something was missing. Like he deserved something- like he was entitled to whatever that happened to be.

He found his 'whatever' immediately following the murder of his parents.

They had been some of the first victims of the war, murdered just after Voldemort's initial rise to power. It was his father who had started the trouble, who had spoken out in protest of the Dark Lord on numerous occasions, and who had ultimately caused the death of his Muggle wife- the mother of his magical son.

The son who was then given a choice- death, or deflection.

And so deflection it was.

It had been the Death Eaters who had given Peter Pettigrew his first sense of belonging- not his family, not the Marauders, not the Order of the Phoenix, whose betrayal he was nearly giddy over.

The Rat, they had called him. Our little spy.

If only they had known.

The irony of being assigned the position of being the Potter's secret keeper nearly threw him into hysterics. He loved that James- who had always shoved him aside, who had never truly seen him for the person he could be- was relying on him, placing his life, and the life of his wife and child, into the hands of the person who he should trust the least. He'd never suspect Peter, never once point a finger at old Wormtail, but shouldn't he have known? Shouldn't he have realized that it would be Peter- poor, greasy haired, overweight, pointy toothed Peter who had trailed around behind him like a puppy since they were all of 12 years old?

Peter the rat.

He'd always resented that, had always wanted to punch Sirius right in his pretty face when he would call him that, but with the simple recitation of an address in Godric's Hollow and a delighted smile from a master, Peter Pettigrew finally embraced the person he had always been, and had always been meant to become.