Chapter 17- Suicide Notes, with a Side Dish of....?
In the late hours of Sunday morning, following the disastrous date (or slightly insightful, depending who you were) of James and Lily, Peter trudged up the common room stairs and pushed open the door to his dorm.
"Hey guys!" Peter chorused, expecting a welcome party of ecstatic, "We missed you SO MUCH," and, "DONT EVER leave us again, Wormtail! Oh so help me GOD, I will hunt you down and smother you with hugs."
Peter stood at the doorway, awaiting the pleasant cries of acknowledgement.
There were none.
Peter squinted. "Why is it so dark in here? Did someone block up the windows?" he asked.
"Light hurts eyes. So we must be bathed in darkness. Like vampires," a voice mumbled.
Peter frowned confusedly and ambled into the gloom, ripping off the sheets of the Daily Prophet that blocked the morning's sun light. The second luminosity entered the room a strangled cry broke out.
"OH, MINE EYES! They BURN! What shmuck let in light! WHAT SHMUCK!"
Peter took one look at the two Marauders, Sirius and Remus, sprawled out on their beds and asked, "What happened last night?"
Sirius formed an exaggerated moan as his head tipped upside down at the foot of his bed. "I'm too hungover to talk." He gazed at the upside-down Peter. "Since when have there been two Peters?"
"One Peter is a special Peter that only drunk or hungover people can see," Remus explained, his arms and legs sprawled out in a starfish position.
Peter glanced over at Remus and made a grimace. "Remus, you appear to have had...an accident," he said weakly.
"What?" Remus grumbled, and then looked down at his trousers.
"Oh, Moony," Sirius laughed. "That is rather revolting."
"Sirius!" Remus moaned. "You vomited on my pyjama bottoms!"
Sirius snorted. "Do not blame your toilet problems on me, fellow partisan. And besides, pyjama bottoms? Why don't you just wear boxers to bed like everyone else?"
"Because I do not like to strip down to boxers every night before bed quavering the Full Monty tune, whilst thrusting my pelvic area in an ungodly fashion."
Sirius pouted. "Prongs finds it funny..."
Peter showed a hurt expression as Remus and Sirius continued to argue how a liquid patch had gotten on Remus' crotch. "Er, guys?" He cut in. "Aren't you going to say how glad you are that I'm back?"
Sirius gave him a blank look. "Back from where?"
"The Hospital wing, negligent," Remus reminded him.
"Oh," Sirius yawned, "Whatever." He batted a hand and closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep whilst Remus tried to doze off in unison.
Peter forced a cough. "Um, aren't you going to ask how I am?"
Remus smiled nicely, "How are you, Peter?"
"Well," Peter began, now feeling rather chirpy that he was getting the attention he thought he deserved; although Sirius had nodded off and was mumbling something about 'chocolate body paints'. "I'm feeling better now. Madam Pomfrey managed to fix my bones in a jiffy." Remus gave him an odd glance, wondering who said 'jiffy' these days.
