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James’ mom called them blood boys.
It was her way of saying they were like brothers. “Thick as thieves, those boys.” she would say. James told her that she had the phrase mixed around, that it was blood brothers and not blood boys, but she didn’t care, they all went along with it anyways. Mrs. Potter treated each Marauder as her own and really did know each boy well enough to the point that they might as well have been her own. She had a habit of sorts, of counting heads. Every time they walked through the door, rambunctious and rowdy as ever, Mrs. Potter would mentally tick them off. Sort of a mental checklist, if you will.
The first one was always James, her Jamie, playful and passionate and always refusing to brush those wild curls of his. Mrs. Potter didn’t particularly like the way he would casually throw his wand onto the counter or the couch, and she definitely didn’t like the way he sometimes forgot it when he went out. What happened if one day he needed it and didn’t have it? It could end in catastrophe! Mr. Potter always told her not to worry, that he remembered it when he needed it, but it still pained her very much to think of how she wouldn’t be able bear it if something happened to him. However, despite James’ memory shortcomings in relation to his wand, she knew it in her mind and in her heart that the boys would look out for each other.
The second to follow was most often Sirius. Sirius with his cold, gloveless hands and fire in his eyes, with his brooding moods and infectious laughter; Mrs. Potter loved Sirius very much. Perhaps in a way, she loved him so overtly to make up for the love he’d been deprived of as a child. She’d been furious the first time Sirius had asked to stay, not at the boy but at his parents! Furious at his stupid family tree and at his absolutely dreadful situation, he was only a child , just a boy , after all! Eventually, Sirius stayed at her home enough that he just... never left. It became his home too. Mrs. Potter wouldn’t have had it any other way.
The third in tow was usually Remus, kind and strong-principled Remus, who didn’t speak very much. She knew it was not because he was shy, but more that he often did not have much to say. He was a listener, an observer, much like Mrs. Potter. Oh yes, she was truly quite attentive when it came to those she loved, especially her boys. She did not miss Remus’ worried glances toward the night sky, and she especially did not miss the bruises that lined his arms and neck, though she considered that the ones splattered across his jawline were perhaps from another force entirely, as Sirius was not stealthy and Remus blushed a bright red when he was frazzled. Still, despite all of the things she noticed, she knew it was not her secret to reveal. Remus would tell them in his own time. Perhaps one day he would feel safe enough to tell her.
The fourth and most often last, was Peter. Peter was a different brand of quiet than Remus, a different kind of playful than James and a different sort of fire than Sirius. Of all the strays that James brought home to care for, Mrs. Potter was most perplexed by Peter. He laughed at the right moments and offered pleasant words when expected, but there was an underlying current of carefulness. A certain hesitance in his actions that was usually made up for by James’ laughter or Sirius’ smart remarks. At first, she thought it was his version of being farouche or timorous or some other fancy word for self-conscious that she’d read in a book somewhere, but as the visits went on and as she watched her boys grow, what had once seemed like Peter’s version of shyness had turned into what she believed to be self-preservation. He was protecting himself. Although from what, she did not know.
All she knew was that sometimes the boys talked in hushed whispers about a war they were too young to fight and all except Peter adorned that same stubbornly brave face. To Mrs. Potter, it looked as if Peter believed they had already lost. Perhaps they had. It was a wretched feeling, wanting to hold and protect those in a war; she could only do so much to keep the despondent feelings of despair out of the air. They’d come home and sleep over, and even if just for a night, they were safe. James will be alright , she’d think to herself on particularly worrying nights. He has Sirius , she’d mumble as she’d cook dinner. Sirius has James , her mind would whisper as she prepared for bed. They would look out for Remus , was what the back of her eyelids said when she’d close them. And Peter … Peter would-
But she was already asleep.