angel in lothian

she feels only slightly better but can't shake the feeling that something was crawling down her back - anxiety was a terrible friend to her. "no," she snaps back to the conversation, shaking her head. "they're awfully loud. can't seem to wrap my mind around the need to talk as if somebody is across the world when they're right in front of you." she adds with a sigh, wishing only slightly - but still some - that she was enjoying herself more. "come alone, pettigrew?" she asks curiously, looking around to see if anybody was willing to claim him as their date.

Peter was not high on Andromeda's favorites list. Who he dated, who he stood with. Him and the other two had influence Sirius in ways that felt more destructive and constructive. But, he was a friend of Sirius. He had to have something worth conversing... Even if it was hard for Andromeda to tell. So, when he sat a few chairs down from her, she gave him at least a half of mind. Yet, she did not return his smile.

Perhaps it was ignorant for Peter to give Andromeda the benefit of the doubt, Sirius had always sang Andromeda's praises. But then Peter had to remember that Sirius was the great exception from a very bad bunch. Still though, he wasn't going to allow one rogue comment from Andromeda Black to shake him or ruin his evening.

The world around her in motion, the witch almost didn't notice Peter until he was clearly next to her. With the ball in full swing so many things could get lost yet there he was. "Thank you. That's very kind of you." Her brow was raised, smile ever present. The brunette could hardly be blamed for feeling rather curious about just what her fellow Gryffindor may need, yet allowed for the moment of small talk to flow naturally. "It suits you." Her eyes went scanning before she nodded in approval once more. "It does but something tells me something is missing. Else you wouldn't be here drawing attention to yourself."

Peter waved off Penelope's gratefulness. "Are you having a good time?" He questioned, interested. Even though it was only the beginning of the night, usually those first few hours determined the path for the rest of your evening. Hand moving to run over the flower once more, "Thanks- I didn't think I was much of a flower fella, but thanks to you, turns out I am." Peter felt his cheeks burn at her next statement. "Do you think I'm missing something?"

It was hard trying to hold a conversation with any of the international students from Ilvermorny buzzing around... well, everywhere, without being asked to repeat herself for the millionth time. After a while Mary had excused herself on the pretense of getting a Professor-approved glass of glorified juice, a well practiced smile on her face as she passed by a potted plant in the back of the room she had noticed earlier; and ducked behind it, pulling out a hidden flask and tipping the contents of it into her drink. Too busy concentrating on the task at hand and less at the surroundings around her, Peter's voice had caught her by surprise and she jumped a little; deer in the headlights look, before a smile spread across her lips and she playfully whacked at his arm. "Well I'd never consider myself the poster child for good behaviour, would you? Besides, trying to hold a conversation with them lot is a lot harder than getting hit by a bludger," Mary snorted, holding the flask out to him in offer.

Mary wasn't wrong, in the few conversations that Peter was pulled into with the international students, he wanted to flee instantly. He had been polite, but there would be more hope of getting a genuine laugh out of one of the tree-trunks in the Forbidden Forrest. Now though, that wasn't an issue, Mary was entertaining, a good conversation and funny. Whenever the ball was first announced, Peter had tried to garner up the courage to ask Mary as his date. There was a glimmer of something between them, Peter wasn't quite sure what. Peter fancied Mary, but he wasn't entirely sure those feelings were reciprocated. Running the risk of asking Mary to the ball, and ruining their friendship was far too dangerous in his opinion. "I don't believe any of our lot would qualify as a poster child for good behaviour." Peter quipped, taking the flask gratefully. "A bludger would at least knock you out -"

it takes her a moment but rita finally gets it, watching as the fabric mends itself with delicacy and precision. "you'd freeze your arse off," rita argues but doesn't actually care too much. peter pettigrew was hardly somebody she felt the need to care about in any sense of the word. "there," she stands, proud of her work. "sorry about that." she mentions again, though satisfied. she stows her wand away, "what was he on about?" she asks towards the retreating guy, not having much interest in interacting with the americans. they were boring. well, most of them.

Peeking down at his leg as the seam of his trouser leg mends with the flick of Rita's wand. He was slightly relieved, this was his only suit. Peter rarely attended black tie events, so unless it suddenly didn’t fit or was started to look a bit tattered, there was no real reason to buy a new suit. “It’s alright, sure it’s all fixed now.” Peter shrugged, “Cheers for that.”

where: yule ball

A small conversation with a ilvermony student over the differences in confectionary had slowly begun to dwindle away into nothing. A conversation that was filled with awkward silences and the need to introduce another topic. it was stunted, well aware that the other person could not understand his Scottish accent. Peter was just about to make a remark about the brightness of the candles when he felt a tear to the back of his trouser leg. Thank fuck for that, he couldn't help but think to himself.

@offtotheratraces

Amused by Eavan's evident dismay at his costume, Peter smirked. It was always amusing to witness how the sheltered purebloods who picked their costumes from the same rolodex of Quidditch players, Old Warlocks, or Magical Creatures each year, opted to condescend those with muggle influence to their costume. "Sherlock Holmes, a muggle detective. He was known for wearing a trench coat and this little -" lifting the hat off of his head, "hat. If you've ever been to Bakerloo Station in London, you would know all about him. He's from a muggle novel."

Rarely was Bellatrix found within the charms corridor at this stage, no longer needing the class. Her path had lead her down a different path. No other intention than waiting on a friend had brought her down the familiar halls, a tale of so long ago. Had it not been for the noise of a crashing being, body hitting the floor, chances were she'd not have paid mind to the others roaming the corridor at all. Like so many other times before, Bellatrix saw no benefit within the presence of most until her eyes fell upon Peter Pettigrew.

"Right, how lucky that I was gallant enough to rescue the poor lens first, hm?" Penelope's eyebrow's shot up, doubt evident yet mixed with a smirk that gave away that not a single world her any seriousness. The chuckle wasn't far off. "Whatever fancy shots would you have taken without it?" But she agreed. No, of course one couldn't simply allow the world beyond the borders of Gryffindor or Hogwarts to think he wasn't humble.

"To be honest, I prefer that you rescued the camera first," Peter mused, the camera had been a gift from his mother. The last Christmas present before she had passed, it held a lot of sentimental value. That was a fact that Peter wasn't going to admit to Penelope, but he did appreciate her fixing the camera. "Oh, I'll take a lot of fancy shots now and if any make it big, I'll be sure to direct the profits you way."

"I'm the silent killer of the night, with my deadly smile and sharp eyes," Mary joked, heart almost skipping a beat when Peter's lips graced the side of her head, and she hoped the slight tinge of blush wasn't noticeable. It was dark, surely not.

Was James supposed to be in class? Absolutely. Did that mean he had any intention to attending said class, now that he was so late for it the word 'late' no longer quite described the extent of it? Of course not. Instead, after finding Peter doing his best to contort himself into a window frame and balancing on a ledge better than James often balanced on a broom, James let out a low whistle. "Merlin, mate, you're going to be paying for that pose tomorrow. Or in practice when Amos decides to run one of those damn drills."

Peter groaned, a slight laugh escaping in the process. Using his two hands to push himself back up into a sitting position. "Seems like i'm paying for the pose now, mate." Getting himself back to his feet in one final push. "I might be able to make it through one of those drills after that." He teased, "especially if it's raining, the rain does make those drills really fucking miserable" A grin

"Did you now?" Penelope raised an eyebrow at Peter, shrugging off the idea of questioning the comment before she could even think about it further. "I'm sure you'll live. You better. Otherwise I'd have wasted some good time on fixing a your camera lens when really I should have taken you to the infirmary. Not sure how much that place makes for a photo shoot."

"Course," Peter beamed, it was a complete lie. But he reckoned it was funnier to tease than to let the embarrassment overtake him. "Aye, I'll live. I might have to get a few extra house points for my bravery which I'll refuse, obviously...I can't have people thinking I'm not humble. Don't worry, Penn. I'd much prefer that you fixed my camera lens."