W E L C O M E

"Do not be rude, Baby Wanda. Sad-man will not tell anyone what you say. He has no friends."

"Now who's being rude?" You scoffed. "And you know that's not my name."

"Baby Witch?"

"Not my name either." Your hands clenched, a habit you'd picked up from your older sister. It helped you calm down, or at least, that's what you had told Peter years ago. "Can you please just try? I don't know what happened during their whole little breakup-"

"That is for them to figure out, not us." Yelena raised a brow. "Do you not have bigger potatoes to fry than this?"

"Potatoes? What are you talking about?"

"It's her thing." Finally, a full sentence. Peter laughed awkwardly. "She calls problems potatoes."

"Okay..." You turned your back to Yelena, staring at him like you were trying to figure him out from a single glance. "Your voice, it-" Your eyes raked over his suit. "I fought you in Germany."

"Yea-"

"And we fought together during Thanos. The first and second time."

"Also true."

"Why do I-" You shook your head, and Peter's heart clenched. "I know you."

"I do not think so. Sad-man knows no one." Yelena murmured.

"No, I do." You insisted, stepping closer. Peter gulped, both craving and dreading your touch. "Why is it hard to think about you?"

"I should get going." Peter cleared his throat. "I can come by another time."

"Goodbye, Spider."

"We were friends, weren't we?" Your voice was smaller than he'd ever heard it.

"I don't- I don't know what you're talking about."

"I-" Your hands reached up, glowing the faintest shade of purple. He felt his mask start to lift, and his hands darted up, yanking it down. You stumbled back, realization clouding your pretty features. "I'm sorry. That was- I don't know what came over me."

"No worries." He whispered. "It's alright."

"I-" You pulled your jacket closer around you, storming out of the room without another word.

"That was odd." Yelena broke through the silence. "Very odd."

...

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the bell above the café door chimed softly.

peter didn’t look up.

he had learned that if he looked at every customer who walked in, he’d only end up disappointed. every few hours he’d convince himself that maybe, just maybe, someone would remember him.

no one ever did.

instead, he kept reading the same page of the physics textbook he’d been pretending to study for the last fifteen minutes while, through the reflection in the window, he watched her.

she looked… okay.

happy enough.

a little tired.

she laughed at something on her phone before ordering coffee. good. that was all he needed. he could leave now.

except he didn’t. because he’d told himself that every day for the past month.

just another five minutes. just until she leaves safely. just…

then the chair across from him scraped against the wooden floor.

peter froze.

“…hi.”

he slowly lowered his book.

reader smiled politely, almost apologetically.

“hi.” his brain completely stopped working.

she wasn’t supposed to be here.

she wasn’t supposed to even notice him.

she folded her arms on the table. “you’ve been following me for weeks.”

peter’s heart nearly stopped. “…i’m sorry?”

“you heard me.”

“i- i think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“no.” she tilted her head. “it’s definitely you.”

peter forced an awkward laugh.

“i think i’d remember following someone.”

“you’ve changed hoodies six times.”

his smile faltered.

“you alternate between three backpacks. you’ve started buying coffee from places you clearly don’t like because they’re on my route. and yesterday you spent forty-three minutes pretending to compare cereal brands.”

peter blinked. “…how do you know it was forty-three?”

she gave him a look. “because i was timing you.”

silence.

then she sighed. “i let it go the first week.”

peter considered jumping through the nearest window.

“the second week I assumed you were gathering courage to ask me out.”

his ears turned scarlet. “what?”

“the third week I realized you weren’t actually trying to approach me.” she leaned back. “so now I’m curious.” another beat. “you don’t seem dangerous.”

“no.”

“you don’t seem creepy.”

“…thanks?”

“you actually look guilty… so.” she rested her chin on her hand. “why are you following me?”

peter stared at her.

every answer he wanted to give sat painfully behind the one he couldn’t.

because you’re my best friend.

because i promised your dad.

because i couldn’t save aunt may, but i can make sure nothing happens to you.

instead. “i think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

she smiled. “there it is.”

“what?”

“you’re lying.”

peter swallowed.

reader reached for her coffee when the waiter placed it down.

she took one sip before speaking again. “you know…” her voice softened. “i was trained by natasha romanoff.”

peter almost groaned.

“she spent years teaching me how to spot surveillance.” she pointed casually toward the window. “you always stay where you can see exits.”

peter blinked.

“you never let anyone stand behind you.”

another blink.

“when you think i might’ve noticed you, you start reading.”

his eyes drifted to the textbook still open in front of him.

“and,” she continued, “you scan everyone’s hands before you look at their faces.”

peter slowly closed the book.

“…old habits.”

“military?”

he smiled faintly. “no.”

“former shield?”

“…no.”

“hired by someone?”

his stomach tightened. “…no.”

she studied him for a long moment.

then something shifted in her expression.

not suspicion.

sadness.

“you know…” she murmured, “it’s strange.”

peter looked at her.

“i feel like…” she frowned. “…i should know you.”

his breath caught.

she looked embarrassed by her own words. “that’s weird, right?”

“…maybe.”

“i’ve had this feeling for months.” she laughed quietly. “i’ll see someone wearing a red hoodie and think, there you are, and then…” she shrugged. “it’s never who I’m looking for.”

peter had to grip the edge of the table to stop his hands from shaking.

“you have one of those faces.”

“my face?”

“it feels…” she searched for the word. “…familiar.”

neither of them spoke.

finally, reader smiled. “anyway.” she stood, grabbing her cup. “I don’t know why you’re following me.”

peter lowered his eyes.

“but i don’t think it’s because you want to hurt me.”

“…no.”

“i think…” she said quietly, “…you’re making sure i’m okay.”

his throat tightened.

“i don’t know why.”

neither do i anymore, he almost admitted.

she took a step away before pausing. “if you’re ever done hiding…”

peter looked up.

“…i’d like to know your name.” she smiled one last time as she turned towards the door.

she already had one hand on the café door when she heard him.

“wait.”

reader turned around.

peter was already regretting it.

his chair had scraped loudly against the floor, every eye in the café briefly drifting toward him before returning to their own conversations.

he swallowed.

she waited. “yeah?”

peter had rehearsed thousands of conversations with her.

none of them started like this.

“i…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “this is going to sound weird.”

a small smile tugged at her lips. “i’ve had a weird afternoon already.”

right.

she’d just confronted her own stalker.

“right.” he laughed nervously.

“i guess… i just wanted to say i’m sorry.”

“for following me?”

he nodded immediately. “yeah.”

“and?”

“and…” he looked down at the floor. “i wasn’t lying when i said i don’t want to hurt you.”

“i know.”

“i know that’s not enough of an explanation.”

“no.”

“but it’s the only one i can give.”

reader watched him for a long second. there was something painfully sincere about him. not charming. not smooth. just… honest.

like someone carrying a weight he wasn’t allowed to put down.

“so…” she asked softly. “does this mean you’re going to stop following me?”

peter hesitated. “…yes.” the word almost hurt. “if that’s what makes you feel safe.”

she noticed the way his shoulders slumped after he said it. like he’d just lost something.

her expression softened. “i didn’t say i felt unsafe.”

his eyes lifted to hers.

“i said i noticed.”

“oh.”

“you’ve had plenty of opportunities to do something.”

“i know.”

“you never did.”

“…no.”

“you actually scared away a guy who was following me last tuesday.”

peter blinked. “…you noticed that too?”

she laughed. “i notice everything.”

of course she did.

natasha would’ve been proud.

peter smiled despite himself. it was small. real.

reader noticed that too. “you smile like someone who doesn’t do it very often.”

his smile disappeared almost immediately. “…guess not.”

silence settled between them. comfortable this time.

then peter spoke before he could convince himself not to. “i know this is… probably inappropriate after everything.”

she raised an eyebrow.

“but…” he inhaled deeply. “would you maybe…” his voice almost cracked. “…want to be friends?”

the question hung between them.

reader stared. “friends?”

“i know.” he laughed awkwardly. “it sounds ridiculous.”

“you’ve been secretly following me for a month…”

“…yeah.”

“…and your solution is friendship?”

“when you put it like that….”

“it sounds insane.”

“it really does.” he buried his face in one hand. “i’m sorry. i should’ve just let you leave.”

she couldn’t help smiling. “no.”

he looked up.

“i’m glad you didn’t.”

peter blinked.

she stepped closer. “can i ask you something?”

“anything.”

“why me?”

he froze.

thee answer was so easy.

because you were my best friend.

because i fell in love with you when we were fifteen.

because every science project somehow became an excuse to spend another afternoon together.

because your dad used to pretend he didn’t know we kept sneaking into the lab.

because i still know exactly how you take your coffee.

instead.

“you seemed…” he searched for something that wasn’t a lie. “lonely.”

reader’s smile faded just a little. “…that’s a surprisingly accurate observation.”

peter’s heart sank. “i know what that’s like.”

she looked at him differently then.

not with suspicion. with recognition.

like she’d found another person carrying invisible things.

“i don’t usually make friends with strangers.”

“i figured.”

“but…” she reached into her tote bag and pulled out a small notebook. tearing off a page, she scribbled something before folding it once then she placed it in front of him. “my number.”

peter stared at it as if it might disappear.

“i have one condition.”

he looked up.

“no more following me.”

his stomach twisted. “…okay.”

“if you want to know whether i’m okay…” she smiled. “you ask.”

peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “…okay.”

“and if i catch you watching me from another rooftop.”

“i won’t.”

“peter.” the name left her mouth so naturally that they both froze.

silence.

reader frowned. “…why did i call you peter?”

his entire body went still. “i…”

she blinked rapidly. “i don’t even know your name.”

peter couldn’t breathe.

she shook her head, almost laughing at herself. “sorry. that’s… weird. it just slipped out.”

neither of them spoke.

finally, she smiled again, smaller this time. “so…” she tilted her head. “what’s your name?”

peter looked at the folded piece of paper with her phone number.

then back at the girl he’d loved since he was fifteen.

the girl who had just called him by the name the universe had stolen from him.

he smiled.

this time, it reached his eyes. “…peter. peter parker.”

she repeated it quietly, as though testing how it felt. “peter.” something in her chest stirred. a feeling with no memory attached.

only warmth.

only home.

“…it’s nice to meet you peter parker.”

peter nodded. “it really is.”

and for the first time since doctor strange’s spell, he wasn’t introducing himself to a stranger.

he was introducing himself to someone who, somehow, had almost remembered.

What in Aslan’s name- your head whipped over to the door, yelping as a man with hair as golden as the sun burst through, stumbling over his own legs. “Excuse me-” 

His clothes were much too grand for a servant, his hair much too clean for a butler. And as he stood, you realized who exactly had fallen into your kitchen. 

“Your Majesty!” Your eyes grew wide as you sank into a deep curtsy. 

“Please, don’t bow. I hate it when people bow.” Slowly, you stood, arms clasped behind your back. 

“You have a beautiful voice, my lady.”

“I am no lady, Your Majesty.” 

The High King frowned ever so slightly. “And humble as well.” 

“Your Majesty-” 

“I’ll leave you to your singing…” He trailed off, arms flailing as he gestured to the kitchen. “And baking.”

You nodded. “Have a good morning, Your Majesty.”

“My name is Peter. Formalities are so pretentious, don’t you agree?” 

“I don’t know if I should have an opinion on that matter…” A small smile graced your lips. In that very moment, Peter vowed to try and make you smile as often as possible. “But I suppose so.”  

It seemed as if his voice no longer worked, gawking ever so slightly as you curiously stared back at him. Panicking, he darted back through the door he’d fallen through. 

The dining room had already dove into a quiet chaos, his siblings all shouting quick words of greeting, food already on their plates. 

Even with the hectic nature around him, Peter felt as if he was walking on clouds. “Morning, Lu.”

“Pete.” She grinned. “You look oddly bright today. Cheery even.”

Susan laughed. “What an odd thing to say.”

“I’m not wrong. He looks all dazed and… giggly.” 

“Giggly?” Edmund’s brow raised, a horrible smirk on his lips. “King Peter the Magnificent looks giggly?”

“Well, how would you describe him, Ed?”

“He’s not even paying attention to us. Look at him.” Peter was now smiling at his muffin, dead to the world around him. “Dear lord, something’s happened.”

Lucy laughed. “He met a girl. I can feel it.”

“Let’s not talk about him like he’s not even there.”

Peter hummed, setting the pastry down on his plate. “I may be ‘dazed’, but that does not mean I can’t hear.”

Lucy tilted her head. “So you do not deny you are dazed?”

You liked working in the castle. You liked how the staff were treated with respect and even admiration, and how, if one of the maids or butlers became ill, they had time to recover. You loved that even though every one of you was a servant, the royals never truly treated you like it. Since you’d begun your employment, you’d been invited to eat with them at every major holiday, every birthday gala, and every other major event Queen Susan threw. 

You loved all of that, but there was one benefit that defeated them all.

The library. Cair Paravel’s library was by far the best in the kingdom. Having taught yourself to read at an early age, you grew an affinity young, sneaking away whenever you had the chance. The giant oak doors creaked as you pushed them open, the smell of the parchment immediately flooding your senses. Climbing the rolling ladder, you made your way around half the room until you found your new captivating read.

You’d almost made it safely down the ladder when disaster struck. “We meet again, my lady.” The voice caused your heart to skip, your mind to panic, and your balance to falter. Tripping over your own foot, you fell backward, eyes squeezed shut as you prepared for impact. Only it never came, two strong arms wrapped around you.

“Are you quite alright?” 

You froze, rigid as realization clouded your mind. “Your Majesty!” Pulling yourself free of his hold, you sank into a low curtsy. “I cannot begin to-” 

“Please, don’t apologize.” His eyes fell to your hands, smiling at the sight. “You have great taste.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” You stood, tilting your head to the side. You always thought the royals had been too busy to enjoy the library. “Lord, what fools these mortals be.”  

“Stand aside. The noise they make will cause Demetrius to awake.” 

He laughed, the sound causing your insides to twist horribly. “I see you’ve enjoyed the library.” 

“Very much so, Your Majesty.” 

“I swear I’ve asked you to call me Peter.” His eyes lit up, and if you were any braver, you would have scolded him for teasing you.

“Peter.” You opted for a strong glare in his direction. “Do you often have time to read?”

“Not so much anymore.” He frowned. “It seems as the years go on, the time I spend in here dwindles.” 

You frowned along with him. “I’m sorry.” 

“It is not your fault.” He laughed. “The kingdom never rests.” 

“And neither do you, it seems.” Your eyes widened. “That was uncalled for. I- I should be going-”

“Please, don’t.” He stepped forward, as if he was prepared to stop you. “It’s funny. We keep finding each other. Just a fortnight ago-”

“You should have never heard-”

“My mother did the same thing.” A distant look settled in his beautifully blue eyes. “Sing as she cooked. It distracted her from whatever worries she had, and her food was perfection.” He sighed. “Perhaps that is why the food here is so magnificent.” 

Your cheeks felt hot, laughing to distract from the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. “I’m only the breakfast baker.”

“Interesting.” He smiled. “Breakfast is my favorite meal.”

You were going to combust, you were sure of it. “May I ask why you’re in the library? I thought you had meetings at this time of day?”

He smirked. “You keep track of my schedule?”

You sputtered. “No, I take care of your sister; she talks of you.”

His eyebrows scrunched. “Lucy?”

“Susan.”

He nodded. “Ah. Well, Yes. I normally have a meeting around this time. But I’m rebelling. My chief of staff is pestering me about marriage, and alliances, and I feel-”

“You feel like there are more important things to deal with.”

He tilted his head. “Are you a witch?”

You stopped breathing; the question, odd in nature, seemed to come from nowhere. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just…” He stepped closer, eyes scanning your face curiously. “I was thinking that exact thing.”

“I’ve cared for your sister for years. She is quite worrisome, and I can only assume she gets that trait from you.”

He scoffed as if you hadn’t just seen into his very soul. “Worrisome?”

“I only meant that she thinks too much. It is a great quality to possess, in small quantities, my lord. Your sister… may be a bit anxious at times.”

He laughed loudly, clutching his heart. “A bit? Su’s the most anxious of us all!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle along with him, his laughter proving to be quite infectious. “She is quite pent up.”  

“She has this terrible need for everything to be perfect.” 

“Just the other day, we discussed what shade of blue was closest to the Silver Sea for the Sailor’s Luncheon. She wanted to know which tablecloth would remind them of their love for the ocean.” You held your stomach. “I’m convinced they were all the same color.”

Peter had never felt more entranced than he did in this moment. Your eyes glowed as you spoke, your laughter as stunning as the sun setting in the west. His own laughter grew as a result, his smile so wide it hurt his cheeks. 

“Your Majesty, there you are.” Mr.Tumnus’ dulcit tones echoed from the hall. Peter frowned as your laughter ceased, all remnants of humor falling from your face. “Mr.Alcotstrom is looking for you.”

Peter nodded. “I am aware. The lady and I were engaged in a riveting conversation.”

Mr. Tumnus smiled. If he sensed Peter’s annoyance, he did not show it. “And I’m sorry to interrupt you, but we both know how Alcotstrom gets when you run off.”

“Yes, yes. Tell him I’m coming, Tumnus.”

The faun nodded, smiling quickly toward you. “Wonderful to see you, Ms. Heywood.”

Peter waited until the faun had left the room to speak once more. “Your last name is Heywood?”

“It is-”

“I had a general with the same name.”

“My father.” 

It all made sense. General Haywood had told him of a daughter, one staying in the camps with him, who had only known a life of fear and ice, a life controlled by the White Witch. “Why are you working as a maid?”

“After he passed, it made sense to find work taking care of what he loved.” You grinned. “He loved this country, and the people who fought to free it from Jadis. It felt right to stay.”

“I’m sorry-”  

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But you must know-” 

“Enough.” Your voice was tense, your smile fading. “I have chores to attend to, and you have Mr.Alcotstrom.” You curtsied quickly, spinning on your heel toward the door. 

“When will I see you again?” His voice was but a whisper, but it had startled you regardless. 

“I suspect soon, quite soon.” You looked over your shoulder. “We keep running into each other.” 

“Will you be at my birthday gala?” He sounded… eager? 

“If you wish it.” 

“I wish only that you want to be there, my lady.” 

Why did he have to be so devastatingly charming? “I would love to.” 

“Wonderful-” 

“But I do not have the proper gown.” When you said it out loud, your reasoning sounded frail, weak, as if you had thought of it on the spot. “It would not be wise to attend such an elaborate event in… well,” You gestured to your issued work gown. “This.”

It was truly a wonder the hold you had on him. “I can assure you that anything you arrive in will be more than adequate.” 

“That is very kind-” “It is the truth.” 

“Peter.” You laughed at the hilarity of it all. The High King was complimenting you. Peter was complimenting you. “You flatter me.” 

“If that is the only reason you cannot attend-” 

“It is.” You interrupted. “I swear it is.”

“Then I will see you at the gala.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but knew it was not worth it. In the end, you would go. Not because of the decadent food or the lavish decor, but to simply see him. “I will see you then, my lord.” 

It was much too early for this- this incessant knocking. You groaned into your pillow, willing the bothersome noise to cease. 

It did not. 

Rolling out of your bed, you slipped your robe on, cracking the door open ever so slightly. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” The woman smiled. You recognized her as one of the seamstresses who made the Queen’s gowns. You’d brought alteration notes to her many times. “You are Lady Heywood, are you not?” 

Peter. “May I ask what this is about?” 

“I was told it was urgent.” You opened the door the rest of the way, jaw-dropping at the sight. A large white box sat in her arms. “I hope this meets your specifications.” 

“While I appreciate the offer, I never-” 

“The High King himself asked that this dress be made for you.” The woman had a horrible smirk on her lips, a teasing nature in her tone. “I do wonder-” 

“Thank you for the dress. I’m sure it will be wonderful.” You interrupted. “What is it-” 

“His birthday gala, I assume.” She was now grinning. “Shall I help you try it on?” 

“There’s really no need-”

“The ladies will be here to help you prepare in just a few hours.” 

Your mind was reeling, all this information too much to handle. “I- May I have a moment?” 

“Of course. I’ll be just down the hall.” 

“Thank you.” You’d waited until she left your sight to slam the door shut, staring in both awe and horror at the box in your arms. Setting it carefully on your bed, you peeled it open, eyes tearing up at the sight.

On top of possibly the most extravagant dress you’d ever seen sat a note, small and simple. His handwriting was polished, perfect in every way. Your hand shook as you opened it, a small gasp leaving your lips at its contents. 

Not with the eyes, but with the mind.

Clenching the note in your fist, you whipped around, stalking toward the High King’s quarters.

“I cannot accept your-” 

Peter tore his head up from his work, his cheeks immediately growing pink at the sight before him. There you stood, as radiant as ever, in your nightgown and robe, feet bare, hair wild from a restless night’s sleep. “My lady, you are-” 

“Peter-” You huffed, slamming the door shut behind you. “It is too much.” 

“It?” He raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea as to what ‘it’ you are referring to.” 

“Do not feign ignorance-” You stopped, squinting at the king. “Is there more?” 

“I beg your pardon?” “You said ‘what it.’ Are you implying there is more you have yet to gift me?” He looked much too smug as he replied. “I cannot reveal all my tricks.”

“You are too kind.” You scolded. “It will look inappropriate.”

“I do not understand.” 

“They will think I am some sort of-” You couldn’t even speak the word. “Some sort of-” 

Peter stood, arms crossed, as he watched you curiously. “You seem awfully concerned with how others perceive you.” 

“I am concerned for the both of us. It will look as if you are giving me special treatment, as if you and I are-” 

He hummed. “Yes?” 

“It is too extravagant.”

“You have still not told me the issue.” “Well, it’s fragile.” You frowned. “It’s improper to say-” 

He ignored the urge to point out that you had just burst into his room in your nightgown. “If that is all-” 

“If this is some sort of horrible way of embarrassing me or-” 

“Surely, you cannot think I would do that to you?” He looked positively betrayed. “I had that dress made because you told me of your predicament. I was merely remedying the situation.” 

“And that is all?” The note still clenched in your fist started to burn. “You have nothing more you wish to say?” He shook his head, and you frowned, nodding once before turning back toward the door. “Fine.” 

“Only-” He whispered, so softly you hadn’t heard him. The door slammed behind you, and his posture slumped, staring after you like a lost soul trapped in the River Styx. “Only that I find you positively entrancing when you are determined.”

Who were you to deny such a beautiful gift? 

That’s what you reminded yourself of for the entirety of the night whenever a new lady’s maid curled your hair, applied rouge, or tightened your corset so much you thought you would surely pass out. 

It felt nice to be pampered, to be the one treated so gently. Your days consisted of accidentally burning yourself from touching the pan, kneading bread, scrubbing the floors, and hemming the Queen’s gowns. 

You never paid any mind when those things happened; it was just how it had always been. And you still understood that you were a maid and nothing more- “My lady.” 

“Please don’t call me that.” You murmured. “You know that I am not a lady.” 

“Yes, miss.” The girl nodded. “We’ve finished.” She placed your slippers before you, wrapped in luxurious green silk. “My lady-” You smiled at the title, and the girl winced. “I only meant- It’s just- you look like a Princess.”

Which brought you back to now, nervously clenching your fists as you waited to walk down the grand golden stairs. Many a young lady stood at the top, proudly jutting their chins when their names were announced. 

You wished you’d thought of entering through the servants' door. 

“The Lady Heywood.” 

Aslan, that was you. Stepping forward, the front of your skirt lifted ever so slightly, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. Not many looked, thankfully. You were not from an affluent family, not a trader’s daughter or a diplomat’s niece. 

You were simply a maid. 

“My lady.” Somehow, Peter did not understand that sentiment. There he stood, handsome as ever, at the bottom of the steps, his hand extended. “You’re here.” 

You couldn’t help but smile, delicately placing your hand in his. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” You didn’t want to elaborate, nor did you need to. He knew, and he smiled, eyes sparkling ever so slightly. “Happy Birthday.” 

“Technically speaking,” He whispered as he led you through the crowd. “My birthday is tomorrow.” 

“Oh.” You giggled. “So this is all a ruse then.” 

“Exactly.” He laughed along with you. “We all lie, the four of us. The day after our birthdays, we laze about, go on rides, swim in the enchanted lake.” A far-off look grew on his face. “It is quite-” 

“Peaceful.” 

He stopped, looking over as if you’d shocked him to his very core. “Yes. Peaceful.” He let go of your hand, much to your chagrin, to nab two flutes of champagne. You’d almost refused to let go. Almost. “Are you quite certain you are not a witch?” 

“Very, my lord.” You took a quaint sip, staring at him curiously. “You know that you’ve asked me this before.” 

“I have.” He didn’t even try to deny it. “It’s just-” 

“Yes?” You raised a brow. 

“You have this ever so captivating-” 

“Peter!” 

The High King did nothing to hide the annoyance on his face, turning toward his brother as if it were some chore he wished not to do. “Edmund.” 

“Susan is asking for you.” 

“I’m in the middle of a conversation, dear brother.” You took another long sip of your champagne, trying not to seem eager at his very apparent need to stay with you. “The lady and I-” 

“I’m sure you were being quite witty-” Edmund peeked over his brother’s shoulder, smiling quickly. “And I am truly sorry, my lady, but it is urgent business.” 

“Well, if it is urgent-” Your heart clenched ever so slightly, a small, polite smile gracing your lips. “Your Majesties.” 

“Lady Heywood,” Peter mumbled. “There is no need to-” 

“It will only be a moment, Peter.” Edmund practically grumbled. “Aslan, you are quite worrisome tonight. Relax, it is your birthday.” 

“Technically-” It had slipped out before you could stop yourself. “Tomorrow is the king’s birthday.” 

It seemed that the Just King didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff. Peter, however, looked proud. “She’s right, you know.” 

“Will you just-” Edmund grabbed his brother’s arm, pulling him away before he could spout out more excuses. 

“I’ll be on the terrace.” You’d barely spoken, but he had seen, smiling brightly as ever.

A horrible chill ran through the air, goosebumps forming on your delicate skin. You shivered, rubbing your arms as if that would solve your issue. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Hardly.” You whispered, almost laughing at how your teeth began to chatter, betraying your words. 

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Peter leaned his back against the railing, gazing at you curiously. “I would hate to think you have.” 

“I could never lie to you.” You hadn’t meant it to sound so grave, but you stood by it nonetheless. “I’d be executed.” 

He scoffed, laughing lightly. “You have such a grave sense of humor, my lady.” He stood straight, shrugging his cape off his shoulders. “Have you enjoyed the festivities?”

“I have.” Your cheeks felt warm. Perhaps you had begun to exhibit symptoms of hypothermia, or perhaps it was because Peter’s lips were a mere breath away, draping his cape over your own shoulders. “People will talk, you know.” 

“Let them.” He huffed. “People pry into my business much too often.” 

“I’m sure.” You pulled the cape closer to you, fighting to urge to fall prisoner to its comfort. You turned around, staring into the ballroom full of aristocrats. “What do you suppose they are whispering about right now?” 

“In this very moment?” 

You hummed, nodding.

“Well, I suppose…” You hadn’t noticed how his gaze fell to you, or how his pupils dilated ever so slightly. You hadn’t noticed how his voice grew breathy, and cheeks flushed, much too pink to be from the cold. “They are whispering about how beautiful you look in this light.” 

You dared to look up, heart skipping a beat. “Peter-”

“You’ve said my name.”

“We cannot-” 

“Do you know what I wished for? For my birthday?” 

You glared. “To stop interrupting me?”

He laughed, shaking his head lightly. “Not exactly. Although it did involve you.” 

“Well…” You suddenly felt too hot under his cape. “Now you must tell me.” 

“I cannot.” His eyes flickered to your lips. “Or my wish will not come true.” 

“Surely you can make an exception.” Your lids lulled, his spell captivating you, his gaze trapping you to stay so very still. “Just this once.” 

“I cannot.” He smirked. “Perhaps, my lady, it would be best to show you.”

“Well-” You dared to step closer, your breaths now mingling in the cold night. “If you must.”

His arm snuck around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Do you trust me?”

“Implicitly.”

He grinned, grabbing your hand in his. “There is a secret stairway.” 

Not exactly the surprise you were expecting. “I’m sorry?” 

He tapped the railing three times, and sure enough, a stairway appeared, away from the prying eyes that begged to catch a glimpse of the High King. “My lord?” You whispered. “Where are we-”

He practically pulled you down the stairs. “One moment.” 

“Perhaps we should- oomph!” In one fell swoop, he had spun you around, pressed you against the wall, and smashed his lips against yours. “Peter-” 

“You.” He kissed across your jaw, voice raspy. “I wished for you.” 

“You’ve ruined your wish.” 

He shook his head, his lashes tickling your skin as he continued his ascent. “I-” Another kiss down your neck. “Don’t.” And another. “Think I have.”

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third year

“Fred Weasley, put that boy down right this instant!” 

Fred grinned, lowering the bully until he was a few inches above the ground. “I thought I recognized those dulcet tones, Y/L/N.” 

“What has he done to deserve this?” She crossed her arms, glaring. “Hm?” She looked at James, trying to reason with him. “James, you’re the level headed one. Was this really worth it?” 

Fred whipped around, signaling at his cousin not to tell her, but James ignored him, nodding. “I would say so.” 

The boy was still fluttering around in the air, and Y/N sighed. “Fred, put him down.” 

“He-” The third year was practically fuming. “He’s despicable. Why should I?” 

“What exactly did he-” 

James walked over, whispering in her ear. “He called you a- a mudblood, Y/L/N. Fred told him to stop it, and the tosser didn’t listen.” 

Y/N nodded, looking back at Fred. “So you decided to levitate him in the air?” 

“I was going to drop him.” Fred muttered. “But then you came along.” 

“Let him go, Fred.” She said once more. “You can’t bully him into changing.” She walked over, standing in front of the pair. “If you're raised in an environment like that, it’s all you know.” 

Rosier scoffed, dusting his robes off as he stood. “You have no idea-” 

Fred stood between them. “It’s probably best if you leave, mate. Before Y/L/N changes her mind.” 

Rosier stalked away, mumbling about how he was going to pay for this, but they hadn’t paid attention. Y/N scoffed. “I can’t believe you did that.” 

“What? Defend your honor? Defend muggleborns?” He stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I will always-” 

“Fred.” She crossed her arms. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I know you can.” He grinned. “But why can’t I help?” 

“You-” She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a Gryffindor, Weasley.” 

He yelled after her, laughing as she walked away. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes!” She yelled back, trying not to smile. “It is!” 

fifth year

James groaned, hitting his head against the library table. “Just apologize, Freddie. I’m tired of this. I haven’t seen Y/L/N in weeks, and I’m getting bored of you.” 

Fred gasped, holding a hand to his heart. “You wound me Jamie.” 

Roxanne interrupted, looking at her brother suspiciously. “What exactly did you do to deserve this?” 

“What did I do?” Fred rolled his eyes, looking at his textbook. “Why do you assume it was my fault?” 

“Fred.” James lifted his head. “Everyone knows it was your fault. You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Done what exactly?” Fred raised an eyebrow. “All I did was ask Scamander out.” 

“Which would have been fine. If you hadn’t asked her out in front of Y/N right after you’d been in an argument.” 

Roxanne turned back to her brother, shaking her head. “Oh, Freddie.” 

“What!” He raised his hands up in surrender. “What exactly is wrong about that?” 

“You two have been dancing around your feelings for five years, and then you ask out another girl in front of her?” She laughed. “I’d avoid you too.” 

James nodded. “Poor Y/N/N. I imagine the whole school is-” His eyes widened. 

“What?” Fred leaned forward. “Are you alright, Jamie?” 

“She’s-” James pointed. “She’s right behind you.” 

Fred turned around, trying not to wince at the awkwardness of it all. “Y/N.” 

“Weasley.” She spat his name out, like it was poison in her mouth. “I was just leaving.” 

“Wait-” Fred pulled out a chair. “Sit with us.” 

She shook her head, glaring at him with daggers in her eyes. “I wouldn’t want to upset your girlfriend.” Looking at James and Roxanne, she waved quickly. “I’ll see you in DADA.” 

Fred stood up, immediately following after her. “Y/N/N, come on.” 

She kept walking, pushing past students to get away from him. “Leave me alone, Fred.” 

“Just-” He reached out, grabbing her wrist. She stopped, students filtering around them, muttering to their friends curiously. The whole school knew about them, thriving off of any gossip they could get. Her breath caught, staring at him with wide eyes. “Just wait.” 

“Fred…” She whispered. “Let go, people are looking.”

“I don’t care.” He whispered back.  

“Is there a problem here?” Y/N pulled away, staring at the ground as Headmistress McGonagall approached.

Fred shook his head, grinning. “Not at all, Minnie.”

“Ms. Y/L/N?” McGonagall turned to the Ravenclaw. “Anything to add?” 

“I think Fred said it best.” Y/N smiled weakly.

The Headmistress crossed her arms, staring knowingly. “Very well.” The three stood there for a moment before she clapped her hands. “Off you go then.” 

Y/N nodded, stalking off, Fred hot on her track. “Well wait just a moment.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She hissed, still trying to outrun him. 

“I-” He huffed, heart clenching. He’d never gone this long without her attention. Granted, this was all his fault, but if he had to go on like this any longer, he would combust. “I’m sorry. I really am.” 

That had stopped her in her tracks, Fred running into her back from the sudden halt. She turned around slowly, a curious look on her face. “Why exactly are you sorry?” 

“Well…” His cheeks turned bright red. Was she really making him spell it out? “For asking Scamander out.” 

She blushed. “Just- don’t do that again, please.” 

He nodded (in quite an over the top manner if you had asked her.) “Consider it done.” Swinging an arm over her shoulders, he dragged her toward the library. “James missed you. Says that he’s bored of me.” He scoffed. “Don’t know why, I’m quite the delight.” 

Y/N laughed, finding comfort in his hold. “You’re terribly unaware, Weasley.” 

the summer before sixth year

“Fred!” Y/N’s voice echoed from the top of the Burrow. “When I-” She sprinted down the steps as fast as her legs could take her. “I swear-” 

“Relax, love.” His voice rang throughout the hall, coming to a clear when she reached the bottom of the steps. “It was only a joke.” 

“A joke?” She huffed, squeezing her shirt to rinse out the water. “I was sleeping you git!” 

“I know.” He laughed. “We could hear your snoring echo through the house.” 

She gasped, smacking his chest indignantly. “Fred Weasley!” 

“Yes?” He wasn’t deterred by her squawking. “I’m right here love, no need to shout.” 

She rolled her eyes, shoving past him and sitting down at the table. Hermione laughed, shaking her head ever so slightly. With a wave of her wand, she dried Y/N off, scolding her nephew half heartedly. “You are just like your father.” 

George glared at his sister in law. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Ruffling his son’s hair, he sat beside him. “Never a dull moment.” 

Y/N grumbled, shoving a bite of pancakes into her mouth. “Sometimes I wish there was.” 

Fred grasped his heart. “Why would you-” 

Y/N glared at the boy. “Stop. Talking.” 

James laughed, leaning forward and whispering as if his entire family couldn’t still hear him. “Trouble in paradise, Y/L/N?” 

The table quieted down, the entire family either staring at Fred or Y/N, whose eyes were as wide as saucers. She leaned forward in her chair, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Fred grinned brightly, nodding along. “Our relationship is none of your business, Potter.” 

“Relationship?” Y/N laughed. “In your dreams, Weasley.” 

Fred faltered, his eyes training on her for a second too long. “Yeah… in my dreams.” 

sixth year

“Weasley…” Y/N shook her head. “Put him down.” 

Fred rolled his eyes, ignoring her. “You know what he did, why are you defending him?” 

“I’m a prefect, Fred. It’s my job.” She walked up, jutting her hip. “Now put him down.” 

Rosier shook in the hold of the spell, hissing. “Don’t lend me any of your help mudblo-” 

“Silencio.” Y/N pulled out her wand. “Put Rosier down, Fred, and I won’t tell your prefect about this.” 

Fred smirked, leaning closer. “You wouldn’t have told her anyhow.” 

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?” Without another word, she turned around, walking away from the crowd of people. Fred let Rosier drop to the ground haphazardly, following after her like a lost puppy. “Any plans for the day?” 

She blushed. “Actually-” 

Fred scoffed, his heart dropping into his stomach. “Don’t tell me you're going out with him.” 

“He has a name Fred.” She whispered, refusing to make eye contact. “Frank’s kind.” 

“He is.” Fred nodded. “But he’s- he’s not what you want, is he?” 

She stopped, turning toward him. “And what exactly do I want?” 

“You-” He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help it. She was so beautiful in this light, with that fire in her eyes, begging him to dig a deeper hole. “You know.” 

“I don’t actually.” She whispered. “Come find me when you find out.” 

“He’s been staring at you for the past hour.” Frank Longbottom was not one to lose his patience, in fact he still hadn’t, but someone staring at his date had driven him close. “Are you sure it’s not-” 

Y/N nodded. “It’s fine, really. I’m sure he’ll stop.” 

Frank muttered. “I just think it’s odd that your friend is…” He sighed. “Well he’s left.” 

She whipped around, staring at his disappearing figure. “Oh.” 

“Go after him.” 

Her cheeks were bright red. “What?” 

He took a long drink of his butterbeer, repeating himself. “You like Weasley. Go after him.” 

“I-” She shook her head. “I really don’t.” 

Frank groaned. “Everyone knows it. I just don’t know why I hadn’t seen it.” He stood up, grabbing his coat. “You two are made for each other.” 

Y/N ran after him, pulling her sweater closer to her. Rowena, she should’ve grabbed her jumper. “Frank, I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize. Just-” He half laughed and half scoffed. “Just swear to me you’ll talk to him.” 

She felt conflicted. Horrible for making Frank feel so awful, and rather annoyed with Fred for ruining her date. “I- I will.” 

He nodded. “Good. Well…” He took a step back, waving. “See you.” 

She stared at Frank’s disappearing figure, lost in her mind. So lost, she hadn’t even heard Fred approach her. “Are you alright, Y/L/N?” 

She scoffed. “Fine, thanks.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Did Longbottom-” 

“No.” She laughed. “Nothing happened.” 

He squinted. “You sound disappointed.” 

“Well…” She turned to face him, glaring. “You would too if your date was ruined.” 

“What-” His eyes widened. “Oh. Sorry.” 

She crossed her arms, her teeth chattering. “It’s fine, really.” 

“You’re- You’re shivering.” Fred stepped forward, draping his coat over her shoulders before she could protest. “Did you even bring a jumper?” 

“I left it.” 

“You left it at Hogwarts? You know, just because you’re a witch-” 

She hadn’t the heart to correct him, instead she opted to watch him endlessly worry over her wellbeing. He looked genuinely concerned, which made her oddly happy, smiling like a lovesick puppy as he draped an arm over her and guided her back towards the Three Broomsticks.

seventh year

“Where is she?” Fred yelled, racing down the hall. “Where is she!” 

The hospital wing’s doors burst open, a livid Madam Pomfrey on the other side, steam practically hissing out of her ears. “Cease your yelling this instant!” He opened his mouth, but Madam Pomfrey raised a finger, effectively silencing him. “She is sleeping.” 

“What-” He was shaking. “What happened?” 

“A duel… I’ve been told Ms.Y/L/N gave him the option to stand down and he- the student used her moment of kindness against her.”

“I-” He scoffed. “Why would she…” He looked back at Madam Pomfrey. “Will-” 

“The effects of the healing drought should be wearing off soon.” The older witch nodded. “Would you-” 

Fred nodded, following after her until they stopped at the end of Y/N’s bed. He laughed, shaking his head. “Godric Y/L/N.” He sat beside her, holding her hand in his. “Why did you have to be so reckless? You should have-” He rubbed the back of her hand gently, sighing to himself. “I should have been there. But don’t worry, I’m here now. I’ll be here until you wake up, promise.” Staring at her for a few more moments, he leaned down to kiss her temple lightly before leaning back in his chair and falling asleep, their hands still intertwined. 

“Fred?” Y/N nudged his sleeping frame. He hadn’t stirred, and she smiled at his peaceful expression. Her hand was warm, and she looked down to see their hands locked together. Not that she minded, she let it continue as she tried to wake him up. “Love?” 

He stirred, whining in his sleep. “One more minute mum.” 

“I’m not your mum.” She whispered, giggling. “Did you really sleep here all night?” 

He smirked, opening his eyes slowly. “Did you really challenge Rosier to a duel?” 

“He challenged me, actually. Not that it matters. I lost.” 

“That’s what you're worried about?” He laughed. “He could have seriously hurt you, and all you’re worried about is your honor.” He shook his head lovingly. “That’s quite a Gryffindor thing to do.” 

She gasped, smacking his arm lightly. “You take that back!” 

“I’m afraid I can’t. It’s already been said.” She smacked him again, this time harder. “Merlin woman, stop hitting me!” 

“Why-” She giggled, still pretending to be mad at him. “Why would you say that about me?” 

He smiled, staring at her intently. “You scared me, you know.” 

“Sorry.” She murmured. “He kept going on about me, which I was fine with. And then he-” She sighed. “I just couldn't stand there and let him talk that way.”

Fred nodded. “I get it, trust me, I do. But next time… just-” He sighed, standing up. “I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you.” 

“You haven’t lost me Freddie.” She smiled.

“Yes, I know.” He glared. “Just, next time Rosier pisses you off, you get me.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m more than capable of handling him myself.” 

“I know-” He huffed. “Just let me take care of you, all right?” 

“I-” She blushed, nodding when she realized he wasn’t going to relent. “Fine, fine.” Scooting over on her bed, she patted the spot next to her. “Stay with me.” 

He climbed up, draping an arm over her waist as he faced her. “I- I have to tell you something.” 

She grinned, moving herself closer to him. “Yeah?” 

He gulped, just realizing how close they really were.  “You know that conversation we had last year?” 

“What about it?” She whispered, scared to break the peace that lay over them.

“Well, I…” He smiled, nudging her nose with his. “I know what I want.” 

“Oh really?” She smirked, her eyes fluttering shut. “And what’s-” 

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a fiery kiss. “Godric, let me kiss you.” 

“Well-” She scoffed. “I didn’t know if you were done-” He kissed her once more, and she sighed, pulling at the hair at the bottom of his neck. “You’re insufferable.” 

“So are you.” He grinned. “And somehow I still love you.” 

Her eyes widened, and Fred leaned back, squeezing his eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have-”

It was her turn to kiss him, interrupting his sentence before he had the chance to make a bigger mess. “Rowena, I love you too.” Her breath catching at their proximity. “Now let me kiss you.”  

He grinned, pulling her closer. “Whatever you say, love.” 

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