#thread: peter

Dobby was sitting beside Peter, smiling as he made a vase levitate. “Dobby likes doing this! Does Peter want to try with his magic?”

@askjerrydandridge

Peter shook his head, trying to not look over at Charley’s weird-mouthed girlfriend snuffling and scrabbling over in the dirt like a puppy. The blessed stake was too far away in the dark, having been grabbed and thrown away further by Jerry despite the brief sizzling that occurred when he did it.

After his fire trick supremely had not worked, Charley hadn’t gotten up again despite Peter’s increasingly wounded calls. He had given up on the howling, not even bothering to dry the tear tracks down his face.

Peter was alone. And the sun was going to set in an hour.

“Mind if I finish these off?” Peter took out his smokes and slurred to Jerry, waiting in the dim like Gollum. The buzz was wearing off. Peter had another swig from his flask, but it was almost empty, too. If he’d packed more holy water, well.

Without a second thought, Peter reaches for the coffee pot, eager for the burst of energy--however fleeting--that the caffeine would bring him. Pouring himself a mug, Peter wearily eyes the door to his office, imagining the old couch behind it and knowing that if he sits down for even a few moments, he’ll nod off.

He turns away from the little takeaway littered kitchenette, returning to his workspace across from Otto before taking a sip... which he promptly regrets.

“Ugh.” He grimaces, pulling the mug away from his mouth as a shiver rolls down his spine in response to the bitter, burnt flavor of day old, low quality coffee dregs. Which is odd, he thinks, because he remembers making a fresh pot when he’d arrived. “How long have we been here?”

@petergrew-whoisleft​

Things had gone more smoothly than he ever anticipated.

It had taken a few promises, reassurances and a ball for Narcissa to show some interest. A conversation a few days after for a promise of exclusivity. Amycus had no warm feelings about it. He wasn’t moved at the idea of being with her, he wasn’t thrilled about being in a committed relationship or excited about having a girlfriend. He was smug about who it was. Amycus was pleased that she saw him as acceptable company – at least enough to welcome him into her life in a way most Purebloods would only dream of. He was content to know that the more she trusted in their agreement, the less trouble he would have in the long run.

But he didn’t like her romantically. His heart didn’t race at the thought of her, and Amycus certainly didn’t desire to spend every second of the day with her. He was overall relieved that her company wasn’t too bad and spending time with her was somewhat pleasant, at best, but it meant very little to him other than a way to various contacts and some sort of immunity that the entire family seemed to achieve. But there was a reason Amycus found himself eager to keep from getting attached, and that was his possessiveness.

Now, Amycus wasn’t overly attached to Narcissa. If she changed her mind about him and ended their thing, he’d be mildly annoyed but far from completely bothered. But as they were entangled, he saw her as one thing. His property. Entirely unhealthy, but if he was going to be stuck in a relationship for his own selfish gain, he was going to make sure that no one dared to even try and jeopardise it. And that included the idiotic, scrawny little Gryffindor that dare approach his girlfriend at the Halloween Ball. And while time had passed since then, Amycus was waiting to give him hell about it.

The opportunity came at random. It was hard to get Pettigrew away from his group of Blood Traitors and Half-Bloods, but when Amycus saw Peter leaving a classroom not surrounded by his friends, he pounced at the opportunity, following close behind the other boy before placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Peter Pettigrew!” He greeted joyfully, giving him a large smile. “Mind if we have a little chat? Alone?”

“I’ll be out for the night,” Peter announced as the moment he got out of his room and nod at Derek in greeting. And without wasting a second, he started to make a beeline for the door.

Peter smiles at Amy, an amused, open-mouthed smirk. “I know it’s getting chilly outside, but unless you’re making me one’a those hot chocolates with Bailey’s in it, okay, I’m not interested. I got my Midori already over here…”

Louie couldn't die. They just couldn't. Chengling had already lost one important person, he couldn't lose them as well. They see the man approach and hold the gun up to him. "I-I'm really sorry. I don't want to, but Chengling cannot lose me." They aim for the head, shooting him.

Miguel had thrown himself into writing songs to cope with everything he’d seen at the ball. He was on a bench, engrossed in writing when he noticed someone sit beside him. “Oh sorry!” He scoots his stuff away so he doesn’t disturb the man.