up to no good

"Yeah, I suppose your right. I ought to talk to Otto and see what he’s planning to do with his time."

"Yeah, yeah, that seem like a good idea. You oughta know what your siblings gonna do, after all."

Mary sobbed into his shoulder, clutching at his shirt in desperation. She feared Mulciber would walk around the corner at any time and finish what he had started. Her heart pounded in her chest and she found it was growing increasingly difficult to breathe. The last thing she needed was to be hyperventilating, but life had not been going smoothly recently. “Just - get - me - out,” she said between breaths, the pitch of her voice changing with every word as she attempted to speak through sobs. “Get - me - out.”

"I will, I will," he said, a lump forming itself in his throat. "C'mon, I'll get you out, you just have to get up." Now pulling her up, he was getting more and more determined to get to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible. The responsibility of the entire situation frightened him in a way, because he wasn't sure if Mary would be able to get to the infirmary herself and he was to make sure she'd end up safe. "I'm going to get you out, let's go."

"I like tradition." He replied with a shy smile, fingers plucking away at a loose thread on his sleeve. He was proud of this friend of his, proud to have made this friend without his siblings interfering or someone taking pity on him. The fact that Peter had, of his own accord, decided to chat with Chris was enough to put him in a good mood. "I haven’t seen my siblings in quite a while - many of them are away studying in college, one of my brothers lives in Switzerland now, so I haven’t seen some of them since before the summer. We always have Christmas together, though, I’ll be pleased to see them again." 

Peter tried not to stress too much about the subject of siblings, but he still crossed his arms to keep his hands from trembling. It was usually that the subject of siblings was avoided in conversations with his friends, as those who had siblings, including himself, mostly found the subject one that was best not talked about. (Sirius had his whole business with Regulus, Lily had issues with her sister Petunia and he had two dead brothers, so it was a topic that was carefully avoided at all times.) "I can't wait to see my sister again, either," he said, nodding. "It'll be great, she's always good company. Y'know, when we're not having some cliché sibling feud."

Midnight Talks | James and Peter

The sweet solitude the common room brought after midnight was one Peter very much appreciated. Smoking inside and staring into a fire that no longer was was a true source of relaxation. Sleep was another thing Peter had added to the list of simple things he was incapable of doing ever since things had started to go downhill, and so more hours of the night were spent awake than they were asleep.  Not that he minded all too much, the fatigue that came with him often creating a nice, tired haze to be in during classes. 

Without meaning to, his eyes flickered across Peter’s face for a moment, finding enthusiasm and enjoyment and, as he spoke about his family, love. The last time they’d spoken had been pleasant, albeit somewhat awkward, but for their second conversation he reckoned they were doing well.

He felt slightly silly, as there had been no friendships he had made outside of the marauders and the ones that had come along with their little group. No, Chris was someone he was getting to know all on his own, and the entirety of the situation left him feeling strange. 

"He promised!" she screamed in anguish. "He’s going to kill me! You have to help me, Peter! Help me!" It was somewhat comforting to have his arms around her, but it did little overall to ease her paranoia that Mulciber would find some way to murder before the night ended. The attack last year hadn’t hurt as much mentally. The mental toll it was taking on her now was comparable to the toll it took fifth year. Now, with her grandmother dead and fear of the war growing, her mind was vulnerable. She gripped him tightly, as if Mulciber were going to appear if she let go, and sobbed into his shoulder. "I don’t want to die, Peter," she whimpered.

He let her scream, unsure of what to d for a moment. Frozen, muscles tensed up at her words, the last six ringing through his head. "I'll help you, I will." He murmured in her ear, glad that he didn't have to speak that loud. "Come on, we'll go, we'll go somewhere else." And with that, he started to slowly move up, allowing her to adjust and get up too, hoping that getting away from the place where it had all happened would help. "I'll get you somewhere safe. Where do you want to go, Mary? McGonagall? The common room? Infirmary? Anywhere else? It's going to be okay, yeah? You're safe, and you are not going to die."

Mary pursed her lips. She had never liked smoking. She tried a cigarette once in fifth year, and found that it tasted ashy. The coughing had made her feel light-headed, and it was generally not something enjoyable. That was not as bad as the fact that smoking as harmful. Inhaling smoke was never a particularly good idea. “I’m not angry. I’m just disappointed. It’s not very good for you,” she said softly.

Disappointment was something Peter disliked more than anger, if he were to be honest. The nonchalance and carelessness was slowly ebbing away, the influence of Mary's words getting to him — he'd always been easily changed by other's after all. "Sorry," he shrugged. The cigarette remained unlit. (For now.) "I know, it's just a nice thing to do, but if you don't like it, I won't smoke." In front of her, at least.

"I’d have to agree with you there… Though I’m not sure where I’ll be Christmas."

"The food will be grand anyway though, right?"

Oh dear. Believe it or not, I happen to own a bottle of Mr Fizzbottom’s Dungbomb Smell-Be-Gone. 

So, uh, would you be generous to share that? I mean, this smell is bad, like, proper bad.

Mary wanted her grandmother to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. She wanted Remus. At least Peter was there. She new she could trust him. He was best friends with her boyfriend for Merlin’s sake. He was her saving grace right now and even though she was hysterical, his mere presence was comforting.

He wanted to cry, explode in a sobbing mess and envelop her in a comforting mess. He wanted to tell her he got it, and that he knew that there was nothing he could say to make the paranoia go away and that he had felt the exact same, and that it wasn't her fault, Mary it's not your fault. There were so many things he wanted to say burning on his tongue,, but he isn't sure if they're the right things.

I think all the time I’ve been using studying for N.E.W.Ts is finally catching up to me. What do you need? A break sounds nice right about now.

I - uh, well, kinda thought you could help me with this Defence essay? I can barely read my notes, my quill was acting up and, y'know... you're good at it. 

here is a list of stuff you guys should ask me:

I feel like I could take a week long nap, when all I’ve done today is eat, did some homework, then took a nap. Do you need anything by the way?

You take an awful lot of naps, mate. And yeah, but I won't bother you with it, you seem busy enough. 

“Now, what exactly are you trying to ask me?”

''I thought, maybe, you could step aside for a moment so I could grab that book?"

Peter felt something strange - endearment, maybe? Or possibly just recognition, because everything Chris said was something he agreed to wholeheartedly. "Oh, yes, family traditions are incredibly important." He said, nodding, and it was for the first time in quite a while that he didn't feel uncomfortable talking about his family. Was it because Chris seemed to be like him, and talking to him was so very easy? He wasn't sure, and in all honesty, he didn't feel like thinking about the reason why, as he just enjoyed the relaxed state he was in. "Everything is so much more personal than it is when you're eating at school, and it's just, I don't know, rather pleasant to be around people you really fucking love."

I think Peter’s recklessness is what ultimately tipped him towards Gryffindor. He played Xanatos Roulette with the trust of his friends, took some pretty big risks to save his own skin, and blew up a city block in a mad bid for escape that could have easily resulted in his own death, too. He found the nerve to slice off his own hand with a dagger for the Dark Lord, and he even returned to the Dark Lord in the first place when he could’ve easily, oh, I don’t know, high-tailed it to Venezuela or something.