Yes, yes, I know I should be updating my other fic, but I've been very busy getting my shit together for exhibitions and the like, and I needed a little break. I will update it soon, I promise.

This is just a little set of almost-drabbles that popped into my head. Will contain mentions of James/Lily and probably implied Remus/Sirius. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Four Seasons in the Life of Peter Pettigrew

Autumn

Autumn is, quite simply, the month of the Marauders.

It is coming to kings cross on the first of September and hunting for those three faces that make school something more than endless studying and mediocre results. It is the joy of retelling the stories of summer and watching the comparison of heights, the endless argument of No, I've definitely grown more, because Peter never was tall enough to compete.

Autumn is hearing all about the exciting magical things his friends did in their three month absence, because Peter lives with his mother and grandmother, who are both Muggles to the bone. He smiles encouragingly at James' new and elaborate and completely useless plans in the grand scheme to woo Lily Evans. He looks appropriately scandalised at Sirius' tales of his family and their appalling practices. And he nods sympathetically, apologetically, to Remus' explanations of new transformation wounds. But he avidly listens to all of it, thrilled at the reunion with his favourite people in the world.

Peter also loves autumn because it is the only season which includes three massive feasts.

The start of term feast is always the best. Sirius thinks it's done on purpose, to impress the newbie's. Remus is inclined to agree. Peter doesn't much care. The sorting is always fun, betting on who will be placed where. Peter is quite observant, and he usually ends up better off than he started. Then, of course, there is the food. Endless and wonderful as it is. That's Peter's favourite part.

There is a smaller feast for Bonfire Night, a holiday many Witches and Wizards neither celebrate nor understand, but one with which Dumbledore has a strange appreciation. It is not as exuberant as the welcome banquet, but it usually involves fireworks of some sort, shining through the enchanted ceiling.

Right in the middle of Autumn, between the other two feasts, falls Halloween.

The Marauder's Holiday.

Halloween is always excellent. Peter celebrated Halloween as a Muggle when he was little. Silly costumes, novelty sweets and half-arsed pumpkins are nothing compared to a Hogwarts Halloween.

Everything is orange and brown and autumn-y. The Great Hall is decorated with pumpkins the size of small cars, all grown by Hagrid and transfigured to various backlit faces by McGonagall and charmed to sing or shout or silently glower by Flatwick. They float across the hall in the place of the usual candles, casting orange light on the ravenous student body.

Everyone looks content. The teachers are drinking butterbeer and growing merrier by the minute. The Ravenclaws have stopped studying for one of only four days in the year that it is acceptable. The Hufflepuffs are chanting a happy song more than a little off-key. The Slytherins even look almost passably satisfied and, as such, the Gryffindors are waiting with baited breath.

What good is a Marauder holiday without pranks.

But nothing happens, and eventually they stop waiting and happily indulge in some holiday food. A few suspicious glances are cast their way, mainly from the Teachers and Prefects. Nobody notices the sly grin shared by James and Sirius, or the little mischievous glint in Remus' eyes, but Peter knows they are there.

When the desserts appear before them, Peter grabs a gingerbread ghost and turns towards the Slytherin table just in time to see every pumpkin pie explode in a mash of stringy and gooey and orange.

The hall bursts collectively into laughter of varying degrees, and Peter swears he even sees McGoogle's lips twitch upwards.

He bites the ghosts head off, chewing emphatically, as the Slytherins coated in the slimy pastry - and smelling delicious - break into an uncontrollable rendition of a very improvised, very filthy, 'trick or treat' song.

Yes, autumn is the month of the Marauders.

Halloween is most certainly the Marauding Holiday.