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Summary
They didn't make much sense, even then. Not like Sirius and Remus: not like the bright star that Sirius always played to Remus's sombre moon, inevitable and necessary and right. James was too much of everything: too bold, too confident. Too tall and too handsome and too filled with a sort of carefree, effortless magnetism that Peter could never hope to emulate and could only linger trustingly at the edges of, waiting to be pulled into its orbit, and it always felt like some small cosmic miracle when he was.