lethal combination

Hestia wondered if Peter had any idea what living was. Did any of them? Really? Hestia had come to believe that it was just necessary to grin and bear it. Make the best of things. If she carried everything she had ever been through with her as more than a memory or a lesson for experience, she would never move. She would be weighed down by the grief and hardships that had shaped her early years. But Hestia had not allowed that. She was determined to look on the bright side, no matter what. Even now with everything that was going on. 

She was going to ask him, but the way he relaxed in the hug made Hestia unwilling to break the spell of the moment. Her arms tightened around him, body shifted to adjust for the embrace. Hestia was glad that this seemed to be helping. It worried her to see Peter so worked up. 

A shiver ran through Hestia’s body at Peter’s words, though maybe it was just a reaction to his breath on her neck. She continued stroking his hair, though, letting the tingle of fear subside. “What do you mean, Pete?” she asked softly, her tone still soothing. She wasn’t sure he even knew what he was saying. 

Whilst Peter’s brain had been entirely determined to move a thousand miles per minute, the rest of Peter had decided to go off on a limb and royally fuck himself over. He hadn’t quite realized the words he’d uttered until Hestia had asked what he meant. What did he mean? Well, for starters he was selling out his best friends to a bunch of murderers. If all his friends knew what he was doing, he would become the most wanted man in London in a heartbeat. They would never stop until they found him and brought him to his knees. If he even so much as uttered the truth to anyone, You-Know-Who himself would be knocking at with a warrant on their life. More importantly, his own life. His heart was sinking again, slowly slipping into the concept of death again.

But yet Hestia was here; arms wrapped around him in nothing but concern and care. She wouldn’t have done this if she didn’t care, she would have run in the other direction. Who was he to decide her fate? Who was he to so much as kill her right now by telling her everything? Oh, but no-- he wanted to say everything. He wanted to cut open his guts and lay it all out for her, he wanted to scream and punch a wall, and he wanted someone to tell him he was wrong. Peter wanted someone to beat some sense into him, tell him that he had fucked it all up and there was nothing more he could do for them, for himself. 

However, that wasn’t Hestia.

“I don’t know,” he whispered in a shaky voice again. “I just have this awful feeling everyday that something horrible is going to happen. I’ve had so many nightmares about Sirius and James and Lily and you and everyone turning up dead, not coming back from a mission. Ever since Marlene--” the lies were practically pouring out of his mouth at this point, but he couldn’t help crack that appeared in his voice when he said Marlene’s name. “I’m sorry, I’m not making sense. I’m just, I’m nervous-- I’m nervous all the time.”

“Neville is easy,” she laughed.  “a little ice cream, some Legos, and lots of cuddles and he is good to go – Lily and James have it worse.  Harry is sweet, but he is a lot to handle.  Nevile will probably be a right terror once he gets to Hogwarts to make up for these easy, early years.  Nevile is on a kick where he only wants to eat orange food – Harry hates orange food.  It creates a bit of a dilemma during babysitting situations.”

She wanted to tell him to drop the self-pity, that it wasn’t fooling anyone.  It was annoying, actually – he had been given everything he needed to excel, and he was resigning himself to mediocrity.  She could tolerate a lot of things in a person, but allegedly trying to kill her and an acceptance of less than someone was capable of had her dancing around her breaking point. But she couldn’t show him that.  She summoned every illusion and disguise skill she remembered from the Academy and plastered a happy, naive smile on her face.  “Oh, I think it’s lovely, don’t sell yourself short.”

“Darn right,” she laughed, downing half her hot chocolate i a single gulp.  “this is really good – I bought it at that specialty shop in Hogsmeade… I forget what it’s called, but apparently I’m going to have to head back.”

Peter nodded. “Still, it’s so weird to be so close to someone like that. Like, to watch them grow up-- y’know? They go from like this ball of crying and pooping into a kid with a sick haircut and a personality, like likes and dislikes. It’s just a foreign concept to know someone for that time of their life, or even to know them that much.” The spiel was unintended, and likely stemmed from Peter’s estranged relationship with his parents. He paused to look at his drink and took another sip. Moments like that were weird, to say the least.

“Orange?” He tilted his head, making a face. “At least there’s not a whole lot of orange food, right? Or am I wrong in that?” Peter turned to Alice, holding the drink close to his face. “I mean-- I s’pose. It’s just not doing great, as you may have noticed by my busy afternoon.” He made a small gesture to the empty shop around them. The way that Alice was looking at him, he was sure she had to believe in him. Everything had been so skeptical, so up in the air since he’d been dragged along to that stupid mission. 

Peter looked down at his drink, silently disagreeing. He preferred apple cider-- but that wasn’t a very friendly thing to say, was it? “Which one? Is it a hot chocolate sort of store or a sweets one?” He did, from time to time, enjoy bringing home something tasty and unique to surprise Marlene with.

“It’s one of those hipster places. I found it on Instagram.” It was a slight lie, the people who ran the place constantly sent her messages on Atlas’ Instagram account asking to come for a bite. She’d gotten a few free meals before from them, which was worth it, but she’d never been there in the dark of the night. “They’ve got a ton of after midnight specials and nothing beats cheap good food. It’s like a pound for their ‘Leaning Tower of Toast’.”

Here, she hadn’t seen Peter so bold. He had beaten her to the punch, and once again, he had surprised her. It was unsettling, a feeling that threatened to make her even more paranoid than she had been before. He was obviously anxious, obviously scared, was he putting on an act? Was he scared because he was caught? Did he not realize that technically, she had been caught too? Hopefully not. She didn’t need to deal with another person KNOWING and having that power over her. 

Inspecting him for a few moments, she noticed more than she had before – a definite mistake on her part. Had she been doing her job well? Had she? It’d been impeccable, in her eyes, she’d gotten this far but had she paid attention to certain people more than others? It was apparent then that she had as she just stared him down, hoping that the more she did the more she’d understand ( osmosis, possibly? ) – to no avail. “But I’ll hand it to you, you’ve got BALLS, Pettigrew,” Dorcas scoffed, laughing lightly, the steely expression now broken only because it came as such a surprise that he was so forward. She felt the tension palpable in the air, the fear, and knew that this situation could south at any moment – she needed to find a way to diffuse it first. 

“D’you like fish and chips?” Looking back down at the menu, Dorcas suddenly had the urge to buy everything on the menu. “I’ll buy whatever you want, just cool it with the cloak and dagger language nonsense ‘til I’ve eaten and I’m able to cast a silencing charm around us just in case your MESSY ARSE tracked in anyone.” Her eyes wandered to the entrances, exits, the windows, each booth, even the air vents. If someone was here, who was following him or her, hopefully they’d think it was either two Death Eaters for a late dinner, two Order members for a late dinner or just two friends possibly under the influence looking for a midnight snack. There was an urge then to think of a cover, to alert Peter to think to a cover, but he was so nervous already she didn’t need to freak him out more – she needed to ease him into this. 

“You did look to see if anyone was following you, right?”

Peter immediately regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He wasn’t confrontational, that was nothing like him-- why was he doing that all of a sudden? Yet, here she was dancing around the topic. Peter only had enough confidence to last him like three minutes of conversation before he needed to curl up and just give in. She could be anything. She could do anything. She could be with him, for him-- he had no fucking clue but it scared the shit out of him. 

“Oh-- right,” Peter’s voice was just barely above a mumble. And there it went, all of his confidence oozed into the first words he uttered to Dorcas-- he very quickly returned to his usual state of hunched shoulders, a constant almost scared look, and one hand fiddling with the menu nervously. Was this the kind of thing you were supposed to eat at? Dorcas seemed intent on eating-- then again, did he even have the money to eat? Just order something, just buy food. It looks normal, it makes you look human.

There was this way that she looked at him, some kind of crazy murder look that Peter couldn’t fully put his finger on. She genuinely looked like she was going to murder him. Wonderful, fantastic, awesome. This was it. Peter felt his stomach almost entirely turn upside down, and quickly averted his eyes to the menu. Look at it. Read it. Merlin-- was she still looking at him? No, it’s fine. She was... well, she was complimenting him. Balls. That was a new one, for him at least.

Oh fuck. Peter immediately felt his cheeks go red, but not in the adorable, dorky friend way-- in the ridiculously embarrassed and slightly worried way. “Fuck,” he was mumbling again, and cast a glance behind him. He hadn’t look, he hadn’t even considered that he was being followed. He was so solely focused on Dorcas and whatever she was going to do to him that he hadn’t considered other members. Idiot. “I mean-- yeah, I did. I’m not-- I’m not new to this, I definitely did.” May or may not have admitted to something-- not quite certain what that was, but it was definitely something. “Did you?” 

Stop fucking this up. 

The Polyjuice Potion had worn off.  She’d forgotten to pack extra to sip on in between shots, and she’d realized, with a thrill of horror, that she was changing back.  She had to be more careful.  She’d been planning to get good and sloshed, and had been in the middle of what promised to be a good time, when she’d gone to the loo and looked back into eyes that were rapidly morphing back into her own.  She’d Apparated on the spot, not caring if Muggles saw or heard.  She had bigger problems.  Anyone could be a spy for the Death Eaters, and if any of them saw someone who was supposed to be dead as a fucking doornail tarting it up in the club, well…

She was well and properly buggered.  It was late, too.  She sighed as she unlocked the door to the flat she shared with Peter, wanting nothing more than to curl up with a bottle of wine and Mary and finish getting properly reupholstered. She wanted to shag that hot bloke she’d been making out with earlier.  She wanted to sleep.  She wanted so many things that didn’t involve being alone that it made her chest ache.  She chucked her keys on the counter, and with another sigh, looked around.  Peter was in bed.  Or gone out.  Great.  

The pull-out was made up for her, and a glass of water beside it.  A twinge of guilt made her stomach turn, and she deliberated.  If he were here, he’d be asleep.  She shouldn’t wake him…

And yet…

Neither idea of being Marlene alone, or Eliza surrounded by people appealed to her.  She wanted to be just her, with someone who knew, someone who didn’t care…

She was selfish. Impulsive.  Tired and somewhat inebriated.  Most of all, though, she was tired of living inside the prison that was Eliza.  She pushed his door open and tiptoed in, closing it shut behind her.  His eyes were closed.  She shouldn’t wake him.  But…

She slipped under the covers beside him and curled up, resting her head on his chest, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Peter wasn’t necessarily tired, not really. He found he slipped between phases of needing to sleep constantly or not being able to sleep for days at a time. It wasn’t something he fully understood, especially when the things that were in his immediate worry were fine now. Marlene was home, and she was going to sleep. He should be fine. Yet, there was the small piece of his brain telling him to worry, to be anxious, to check on Marlene. Maybe he should check on her. Peter was about to move, about to get up-- maybe it wasn’t her, maybe it was someone here to kill you-- and check on Marlene. The click of his door knob stopped him, and Peter was asleep again. 

The voice of fear was still in the back of his mind, telling him that this was an assassin sent to kill him (as if he was that important), but that washed away the minute the covers were tugged and the warmth of another person was close to him. He opened his eyes and looked down at Marlene, a dose of surprise on his face. “Marlene, Marls, are you okay?” Peter openly accepted her, reaching and wrapping an arm around her. It wasn’t necessarily the first time she’d done this, but it didn’t stop him from worrying every time she did so. There was a strong stench of liquor coming from her, but he couldn’t see her face and his mind simply took it upon itself to fill in the blanks.

“Did something happen?” It wasn’t terribly often that Peter expressed sorrow or sadness in the name of other people, but seeing Marlene come to him like was emotional in so many ways. She was so broken, she had come to him completely in pieces, and Peter wanted nothing but to help her. 

remus lupin && @peterpettigrxw sometime in their 6th year // flashback hogwarts dormatories 

Remus was still exhausted from the night before, even with most of his day being spent in bed. That wasn’t the point though, full moon nights were always exhausting, even with his best friends at his side. He had gotten past the point of annoyance after learning that they had all become animagi and was becoming to enjoy their outings. It wasn’t until the day after that he knew that what they had done was incredibly dangerous and reckless, but he never had the heart to call them out for it. He was able to do this with most pranks that they pulled on a daily basis, but when it came to standing up to his friends- about him, it proved nearly impossible. 

That wasn’t what was on his mind at this point though. He was too distracted about the fact that they had actually done it. The fact that they had taken the time to make themselves into creatures that would not only be able to protect themselves from an actual werewolf, but in some cases, slightly control him if he were to get out of control. He would go over the night in his head, thinking about everything that the others would do, just to make sure he wasn’t alone. He took in a deep breath, rolling around in bed a couple times to glance at the clock, it was nearly 11. Sirius and James’ were already completely passed out, which was a shocking first, but he couldn’t tell from his angle if Peter was. 

“Wormtail?” He suddenly spoke out-and the voice almost shocked Moony. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say, or if he just wanted the comfort of having someone awake with him, but he took another breath before plowing on. “You awake?”

Peter felt great. Sure, he’d stayed up the entire previous night and he’d spent the entire day catching up on homework in order to not fail the entire year, he still felt fantastic. Every so often Peter would have moments where he would sit back and realize where he was, the room he was in and the people he was with-- and generally just how his life was going. The track it was headed down. This was one of those moments, and Peter was so unbelievably happy. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his life in that moment, and to say he would thrilled by it would be an understatement. Things with James were going okay, they hadn’t gotten in any arguments lately. Sirius was, well, Sirius so there wasn’t ever going to be a tremendous change there. More than anything, Remus seemed happy. That made Peter happy on its own.

It wasn’t until he caught himself smiling and staring at the ceiling that he realized he couldn’t sleep. It was somewhere between a feeling of complete joy and a feeling that something was going wrong, but he couldn’t quite pin it. All he knew, sleep was something that would probably not happen tonight. It was why he was all the more grateful when he heard Moony’s voice. It scared him, just a bit, but he turned over to look at his friend. “Yeah, yeah,” he whispered. “Dude, how are you still awake? Aren’t you exhausted or something?” 

Setting that aside, Peter pulled the covers up to his chin and rested his head on his pillow to look in Remus’ direction. “What’s up, anyways?”

“I just don’t like .. I don’t know, being rude or something,” she admitted, her voice a little guilty. “They’re working hard, and all, I don’t wanna intrude.” It didn’t make much sense when she said it, and she let the words hang in the air for a while. She hadn’t known why she had said them — they were too honest, too real, to close to an confession of something. “Ah, so you’re human after all! I thought you were a vampire or something. They like cold, right?”

She looked him over for a while, her eyes squinted. “A little. Like hazelnut, or something,” said Emilia, chuckling softly. “Ohhh, that’d be wonderful! I would, too – I’d just constantly stalk you and beg you for free ice cream. Unless on days like these. On these days, I’d stalk whoever could create hot chocolate out of thin air.” She let her thoughts drift to the scenario, her lips curled slightly, still. “No. You’re just wrong,” she teased. “Yeah, I definitely think so! I’ve encountered them in Paris, too, and in other big cities. And that’s a lot of wallets, Peter! One is too much! You should tape them to your body.”

Peter nodded and furrowed his brows together. Now he sounded rude or something. “Right, right, you’re probably right.” His voice slipped into a whisper mid-sentence, and he turned his attention to his drink for a moment and took a long sip. At the slightest turn of the subject, Peter let a smile crawl back to his face. “Oh no, I don’t think so, I’m pretty certain vampires just hate the sunlight. They’re probably impartial to the cold.” Peter took a glance around, wondering if there was a vampire within earshot.

“Hazelnut? What kind of ice cream flavor is that? I have never heard of that.” He shook his head and took another sip of his drink. “You wouldn’t want ice cream today? Dude, you’re crazy, ice cream is all I’m craving now and it’s your fault. Besides, hot chocolate is sometimes too hot. By the time you get to the bottom of the cup you’re all warm and hot and overheated.” Peter happened to have a lot of opinion about food, seeing as he enjoyed it so much. “Wow, rude, that hurt.” Peter feigned a look of shock. “They’re the worst! Also, I don’t think taping them is a very smart idea-- if anything that just sounds painful.” He paused, recalling the times he’d lost his wallet, “It actually happened on a date once, I tried to buy this girl like a treat or something and my wallet was just gone. She totally did not text me after that.”

Only because I’m cute. 

There it was again. That inexplicable urge to scream. Maisie made a sound like a kettle that was boiling over, just high enough to make her dogs freak out. Rory bolted from the room, Finn started barking, and Alistair looked at her with a look so terribly concerned it would’ve been cute if not for the fact that Maisie’s face was now the same color as her hair. She slammed the keyboard, dreading the continuation of this conversation, but started up the game anyway. 

And Merlin, now that she knew what he looked like, she was practically obligated to do some big elaborate face reveal. A face reveal wearing blue and purple and white tartan pajamas. What had her life come to? She sunk back down into her pillows, defeated by her desire to play something fun and the fact that he was a good friend and she didn’t want to just cut him off. Maybe she was wearing plaid and maybe her hair was in the sloppiest, messiest bun on earth and maybe she was all blushy, but at least she was comfortable, right?

[ 9:48 ] mmmkenna: incoming. 

Waiting for Peter’s name to appear in the litlte voice call area on the discord, Maisie grabbed her headset and plugged a controller into the USB port on her laptop. When she noticed he was in the VC, she clicked over and, trying to sound as casual as possible, grinned into her microphone. “Fuck other people, huh? What’s go you so clingy?” They hadn’t spoken since she’d sent him that photograph. Not over chat. And the only reason she could think of for him wanting to do a private chat was so that he could ask to video call or for photos. So Maisie waited for the universe to dole out her fate. 

Peter couldn’t help but smile at the return of his friend-- well, friend might have been a strong term. Every so often he would catch himself calling them friends or referring to her as if he really knew her. But the truth of the matter was, he had no idea who she was and vice versa. She could very well be a Death Eater here for the sake of getting more information out of him (not that it took much getting these days) or worse-- an Order member. Knowing now that she was magical opened up a thousand new possibilities that made his stomach turn. Did she know who he was truly? Did she know the role he played in all of this? The smile had faded to an extent.

“Me? Clingy? That’s offensive-- you’ve hurt my feelings and it’s only been two minutes.” Peter whined for a moment, spinning around in his chair. “Speaking of two minutes, where the fuck have you been? It’s been a solid decade since you’ve even responded to me, and I’m hurt. Being my friend is a privilege, y’know that right? I got people lining up the down block just to let me kick their ass.” That was about as far from the truth as possible, Peter had nobody, or at least barely anyone.

03/12/2018 | Andromeda Confectionary | Peter & Ted

“Here’s your cinnamon bun my good chap.”  the man handed Peter his pastry, over enunciating in good humor. “Wait just a moment though, I wanna talk”

Though Mary was their regular babysitter, there were times when she was busy. RED stuff. Order stuff. Etc. So when she was unavailable, Peter would be back up. Dora loved him. Ted loved him just for that, but after hearing his daughter tell a very interesting joke which she then proceeded to laugh about for a full minute before confirming to her father that no, she did not in fact understand it, he became a little hesitant.

After helping the next couple of customers in line and setting an empty platter on the back counter to clean, Ted approached the other, clapping his hands together.  “First I just want to thank you so much for watching Dora last night. She loves it when you come over”  his hands let go of each other to motion to the other before her leaned on the front counter. Lips pressed together and head hung down for a second. Looking up with a grimace, he added,  “There is one thing.”

Peter grinned and grabbed for the roll. It was needless to say that his stomach had been making animal noises all morning, and he’d immediately gone over to Ted’s bakery for some food. Specifically, some free food. Just as he was about to take the first bite-- easily, the best bite-- Ted spoke again. He brought the pastry away from his mouth, and looked up at Ted again. 

At the first mention of Dora, Peter’s face lit up. He had almost forgotten that’s how he had spent his evening prior to this. She was a hilarious kid, and a fantastic energy. It was definitely much better to hang out with a kid who could form words and actually have interests-- and wasn’t a baby still. “Dude, of course, don’t even sweat. You know I love her, we get along great.”

Hestia felt for her friend, she truly did. She didn’t react as strongly as he seemed to, but she understood not feeling right. Her logical self knew when her thoughts began skipping down the path to the illogical, the unreasonable, and she did her best to catch herself. But she could see the struggle in Peter’s face and knew that she would have to catch him instead. If she could. 

She felt him relax a little with her hands cupped around his fists. Maybe Hestia could catch him literally as well as figuratively. She waited until his barrage of words finished. “No one wants to die, Pete,” she said softly. No one except those who were suffering or in pain. “But we’re all going to die eventually, you’re right. So we just have to do our best to live.” She knew that probably wasn’t exactly comforting, but Hestia doubted she’d be able to placate him with any lies. Peter knew that they would all die, it was a part of life. All she could do was try to help him through that, and whatever had hold of him now. 

Moving closer, Hestia slid her arms around Peter’s neck, pulling him closer. “Even if we’re not safe, you’re safe now,” she said firmly. She hugged him, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other stroking his hair. “Just breathe.” 

In that moment, Hestia sounded like a pamphlet for anxiety. He could hear her saying the same words his mom had repeated, just don’t think about it. Don’t let it get to you. It was an awfully big lie, especially coming from his mother of all people. But here Hestia was, trying to comfort him. He could feel it, he could hear the touch of sincerity in her voice-- that was new. 

“This isn’t living, none of us are living.” Peter’s words came out harsher than he intended, but he didn’t regret them. The war made them fighters, it made them warriors-- but none of them were allowed to be kids anymore. Or at the very least young adults, even that would’ve been better than who Peter felt like he needed to be. Just as he was about to elaborate, just as he was about to explain why he felt like a lifeless shell-- Hestia did the last thing he expected and hugged him. Her arms slid around his body so easily, and Peter just felt his shoulders slump against hers. He buried his face in her neck and fell silent, only breaking it to take deep, ragged breaths. 

“I don’t-- we’re not-- you’re not safe, Hestia.” Peter’s voice was just above that of a whisper, slightly muffled as he was pressed against the skin of her neck.

Maisie had seen the initial message. Of course she did. She watched her chats like a hawk. It was her favorite source of interaction, most days. Just detached enough to not be exhausting, but involved enough to alleviate the boredom. Even if she hadn’t been sitting laying across her bed with her laptop in front of her, she would’ve seen the message. Which just made it even more of a case of avoiding Peter than it would’ve been if she actually had some semblance of a life. 

She’d called him cute. Not just in playful banter but 100% seriously. She had absolutely, without any prompting, called him cute. That in itself was enough to make her want to scream. In fact, she had screamed. She dropped the call and screamed into her pillow, embarrassed out of her fucking mind. But then there was the issue they hadn’t addressed. Maybe he hadn’t noticed it? The photograph had been taken in Diagon Alley, which meant Peter was- 

Magical. 

She blushed and then had to remind the reactionary part of her mind that she meant in the literal sense, not magical like some shitty sappy love story. In blatant rebellion of whatever girly nonsense had caused her embarrassment and her blush, she clicked over to the chat. 

[ 9:42 ] mmmkenna: alistair is cuter.

To prove her point, she sent a photograph of her dog sleeping with his favorite stuffed toy. 

[ 9:43 ] mmmkenna: we can play overwatch but im gonna play something agro [ 9:43 ] mmmkenna: genji or sombra or some shit [ 9:43 ] mmmkenna: its your turn to heal my ass this time

Peter grinned. It was good to know she didn’t hate him. Cute or not, Peter had a sinking feeling she was going to be entirely different. The picture of her dog popped up, and Peter almost felt his heart melt instantly. Adopting a dog was definitely something he thought of doing, but given he spent most of his time sleeping, working, gaming, or doing things he didn’t like thinking about-- that dog would really make it through a week or so.

[ 9:45 ] peter: mada mada [ 9:45 ] peter: fine but only bc i’m cute

The message was totally overstepping his bounds, but Peter had a strange type of confidence with Kenna. For some reason, he didn’t get anxious or awkward at any point. He’d been gaming for so long that he’d seen it all, nothing could make him feel uncomfortable anymore. It was probably one of the reasons he kept coming back to it. Peter opened up the game and grabbed his headphones. 

[ 9:46 ] peter: do you wanna deal w ppls shit or just use discord

Usually, Peter wouldn’t have felt the need to ask this question. The answer was way too obvious. His only motive was if they were the only ones chatting, then he could potentially bring up the whole picture ordeal. Maybe then he could figure out why the fuck she never told him she lived so close to the city. Wait a minute. Peter did a quick scroll up the chat, taking a second look at that picture she’d sent him. “Holy shit,” he whispered. It was such a small thing that he hadn’t even noticed it, hadn’t even considered it. The picture she’d taken was in Diagon Alley, not too far from his shop. Diagon Alley. 

DATE: 12 March 2018, 12:36 A.M. LOCATION: Pie Testing & Snowball Fights. Gravesend, England. CLOSED W/: @peterpettigrxw

Half past twelve. Pie Testing & Snowball Fights. It’s a diner in Gravesend. Between the red and yellow buildings on Brewhouse Yard. Burn this when you’re finished reading. Don’t splinch yourself.  -d

The note she’d slipped into Peter’s pockets was quick and easy, charmed with a spell that burned it a half hour after the receiver had read it – just for good measure. Something she wished was capable when it came to her online activity even though she was well aware that on the internet, everything was written in ink not pencil. There was no erasing once it had been put out there, no taking back. The invitation was something she felt she had to do, how else could she control the situation & questions that had started to arise when she saw Peter in the same room as her, in an Order meeting. She’d known him for years, but she didn’t know this. 

Besides, she needed to know who she was actually dealing with as Peter would’ve eventually brought up them being at the same time & same place, right? On his terms, not hers. As far as Dorcas was concerned, she didn’t actually know the person she was dealing with or knew who they really were. Was his personality an act? Wasn’t he close friends with Lily, James, Remus, and Sirius? She was determined to understand, to learn, because she had enough uncontrolled variables in her life.

How much else Dumbledore was keeping from her? She’d never know and it angered her. He saw all of them as puppets on his string, as pieces to be played on a chessboard, as things & weapons to win this war as opposed to human beings and it sickened her. Dorcas wanted to regain some control. She needed to seek out answers for herself, she needed to know and know more than what Dumbledore decided what and what not to tell her. 

Ordering a plate of chips to start, she scrolled through Atlas’ instagram, his following more impressive everyday. Her eyes wandered to the door, the counter top, back to the menu as she started to look for something more to eat. 

Peter dreaded the meetings. Both of them. The Order meetings were definitely more fun than the Death Eater meetings-- purely because he knew the people. But it also made it harder. It was difficult to sit in the corner by himself and quietly listen, uncertain as to who in the room really cared about him anymore. It had been the same behavior for several meetings now, and Peter had started to get bored with the same routine every time. However-- his eyes fell upon one Dorcas Meadowes as she made her way into a seat. Immediately, Peter was panicking. He thought she was a Death Eater, it made no sense for her to be at an Order meeting. 

To say that Peter ran out of that meeting was just short of the truth. As soon as the official business was over, he dipped and immediately went to retreat to his flat. He didn’t want to talk to her, he didn’t want to know, and more importantly-- he didn’t want her to know. If Dorcas was doing the same thing as he was, she could do better. She could get more information, she could be more useful. 

They would kill Peter if they no longer had a use for him. 

Peter stood outside of his flat, on the verge of a panic attack, and reached into his pocket to find a crumpled up note. “Fuck me,” he muttered. It wasn’t too long later that Peter found himself staring up at the neon sign of the diner, yet again dreading another meeting. He pushed open the door and glanced around, until his eye caught Dorcas Meadowes in the corner waiting. “Fuck, fuck, what the fuck am I doing, holy fuck.” Peter whispered to himself, almost as if begging himself to turn around, as he walked towards Dorcas and slid into the booth across from her. 

“Hey Meadowes.” Peter crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “Fancy seeing you here, at this uh, weirdly named place. And um, fancy seeing you at lots of places.” Well, someone had to say it. “Places I’ve never really seen you at before.”

“Where is she?” Peter turned over in his bed, grabbing at his phone, yet again, to check both the time and his notifications. Still, nothing. But it was coming up on 3am, and Marlene still hadn’t gotten back yet. She usually didn’t push it this far, because some part of her knew Peter would go looking for her after a certain time. The last time that happened she’d stumbled home without him even noticing, because of course she was at the last bar he thought to check. He was almost freaking out to the point of calling authorities-- but how could he? Marlene McKinnon was dead, they would simply look at him like he was crazy. When he did make it back though, he felt a thousand times better to see her knocked out on his bed as if nothing had happened.

This time he was definitely nearing that level of panic. It was a difficult position to be in-- trying not to be so invasive like he was her mom or something, but also making sure she actually woke up the next day. Admittedly, Marlene hadn’t made the anxiety easy for him. But really? A Monday night? It’s like she was trying to kill him. Ever since she came back, Peter had spent most of his time worrying over her like crazy or just spending time with her. It was weirdly comforting to have someone all to yourself-- but obviously it sucked for James and them. It sucked to hear them talk about her and not be able to share her with them. All the while, Peter would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it a little.

Peter slumped into the chair in his room, immediately taking a moment to crack the bones in his hands and neck. He had been wanting to log on for most of the day, finding all he felt like doing was shooting a bunch of other worldly strangers for a while. Settling in, Peter leaned forward and opened up Steam and glanced at his side monitor. Was Kenna online? Admittedly, he hadn’t been the most fond of her aside from a decent friend and not a horrible teammate. That is, until she called him cute. That changed things. Peter had taken opportunities to shamelessly flirt with Kenna before, so was he going to find himself flirting with her at this point? Yes, certainly. 

[ 9:36 ] peter: hey bitch [ 9:36 ] peter: lets play overwatch or s/t

It had been quite a few days since Peter had seen her around, or at least managed to actually get a hold of her when she was around. There was a solid chance that she wouldn’t want to talk to him, and he knew that. He put an elbow on his desk and leaned against it. A minute or two passed and he still hadn’t heard anything back. Peter quickly searched up one of his favorite dog threads and scrolled through-- find one that’s big and fluffy, those are the cutest. He found one of a cute dog letting a small baby sleep on him and sent it to her.