#lawnparty

A moment later and Peter is leaning away with a sheepish laugh. “And where did you two find this?”

Sybill perks up. “Oh, it’s mine. Cannabis is excellent for achieving accurate palm readings. Want to try it out?”

“…The drugs or the palm reading?”

She hums and lets go of Barty to reach forward and grab Peter’s free hand, gently running her fingers against the soft skin of his palm. “Whichever one you like, doll.”

“Or we could do both,” Barty cuts in. “Both is also good.”

Peter nods distractedly, his eyes trained on Sybill’s hands where they cradle his own. “Er, yeah. Both is good.”

“Always knew you were a smart one, Petey.” Barty claps him on the shoulder before he summons a Muggle lighter from his and Sybill’s bedroom. She lets go of Peter’s hand to grab it and his eyes follow the movement mournfully.

“Hm,” she hums lightly and plucks the spliff from Peter’s fingers. “Who wants to go first?”

“How about I go first and show him the ropes?” Barty wraps an arm around her and tugs her close, dragging her halfway into his lap. She laughs and swats playfully at him.

“Alright, alright,” Sybill says with a grin, twisting in his lap to face him. She carefully pops the tapered end between his lips and, with gentle concentration, leans closer to light it. The flame catches and she leans back with a satisfied smile as her boyfriend inhales.

Smirking, Barty reaches up to take the spliff between his fingers and remove it from his lips. He holds it in for a moment before blowing the smoke in Sybill’s face. She coughs and bats away the smoke as he laughs until she shoves at his chest fondly. “Arsehole. Should’ve known you’d do that.”

“Right as always, princess. Now budge over, me and Pete have got some weed to share.” Sybill giggles and obediently lifts off of his lap, flopping back down into her spot on the expensive plush sofa Barty had brought back to their flat a couple months prior. She’s pretty sure that he stole it from that annoying coworker he’d been complaining about, but she hasn’t asked.

“Alright, Petey.” Barty drags himself to the other end of the sofa where Peter is. His eyes widen when Barty all-but crawls on top of him and boldly sits on his lap. Barty smirks at the squeak Peter lets out.

“You were watching me take that drag, right?” Peter nods quickly, his eyes darting to the other boy’s lips before going back to his eyes. “Good. You think you got the basics?”

“Er, sure.” He says uncertainly. “Inhale, hold, exhale, yeah?”

“Exactly right. Quick learner, you are.” Barty raises his hand with the roll and cups Peter’s cheek with the other to hold him still. “Now you try.”

Sybill watches giddily as Barty leans in close and lowers the used spliff to Peter’s lips.

Immediately after the first inhale, he starts coughing. Barty pulls his hand back with a cackle, the other one still cupping his face which is now even more red.

“You alright there, loverboy?” he snickers and Peter bats his hand away in embarrassment.

“Fuck you.”

“Well, if you’re offering.”

“Barty!” Sybill chides as Peter splutters, so red it’s almost concerning. “You’re gonna scare him away.”

“Oh, alright,” he huffs and finally climbs off the poor boy. Sybill darts forward to snatch the spliff from Barty, taking a quick practised drag.

“Right then,” she breathes. “Are you still up for palm reading, doll?”

Peter clears his throat, his cheeks still deliciously pink, and nods. “If you’re up for it.”

“Oh, she’s always up for it, sweetheart. Obsessed with divination, that one is.” Sybill smacks at his arm.

“What he means to say is of course I am.” She takes another drag then hands it over to Barty before she starts nudging at his leg insistently. “C’mon, love, switch with me.”

“What?”

“Can’t exactly read his palms with you stuck in between us, can I? Come sit on my end.”

Barty snorts. “Yes, dear. Whatever you want, dear.”

Sybill preens when he stands and presents his seat to her with a theatrical bow. She moves to drop into his vacated middle seat, cross-legged and eager while she makes grabby hands at Peter. Barty flops over onto the end seat with a thump and peers over her shoulder as she grabs Peter’s hands and flips them palm-up, tracing the lines with her fingers.