#willabulstrode

A sheepish grin on his lips, Peter couldn't hold her gaze for long before needing to look down at his feet, it had always been that way with her. He liked her, he really did, but sometimes he felt overwhelmed, as if he would mess things up with the wrong words or expression. "I was thinking we could maybe get a drink? If that'd be alright with you?" All his insecurities out in the open, the wizard felt all too nervous asking for a bit of her time, certain she had much better things to tend to rather than spend time with him.

While the girls saw each other every Sunday for dinner, Marlene could never say no to meeting even more often than that, so when the owl had come suggesting they had lunch together, she'd replied eagerly in agreement. She didn't have much time, but her lunch break was long enough for the witches to catch up, sneaking away to meet in the park. "I got you your favourite." The blonde greeted Willa with a smile, passing over the bag and tapping the spot beside her at the bench. "How's your mom doing? But more importantly, how are you?"

The past months at work had been something to get used to because of it having been something she had never done before. But Cressida was getting there. She did like the people she worked with but there was a difference in people when it came to work. Cress knew that she wanted to prove herself, to herself and to others. Prove that she was not just someone who had done nothing at all, all of her life and that she wasn't scared to get her hands dirty.

The flat was warm and softly lit, with the faint scent of cinnamon from a half-eaten bun they’d forgotten on the counter. Marlene padded around barefoot, her oversized jumper falling to mid-thigh as she picked up stray glasses and tucked a blanket over the couch. She wasn’t fussing for Willa’s sake —she had seen worse— but because it helped keep her hands busy. “Mum would’ve loved this,” she said idly. “Us, still doing Sunday nights like nothing’s changed.” Her voice was soft, affectionate, threaded with a touch of nostalgia.

She glanced over her shoulder toward Willa. “And nothing has changed,” she added, forcing a grin that was too easy, too polished. “I’m fine, promise. Just tired.” A half-truth, wrapped in the kind of confidence she knew Willa wouldn’t question too hard. Because they were sisters in everything but blood, and Marlene didn’t want to pull her into the heaviness pressing against her ribs. Not tonight. Tonight, they were girls again, safe and warm, watching rubbish telly with their legs tangled on the sofa. That had to be enough.

Peter lingered near the entrance of the ward longer than he meant to, a paper bag clutched in his hands, the scent of grilled cheese and toasted buns rising with the steam. He’d picked the place carefully— a Muggle stall he’d passed by dozens of times but never dared to try until he thought of Willa. He hoped she’d like it. He’d even asked the bloke behind the counter which sauce was best. Twice. His reflection in the glass door looked mildly panicked.

When she stepped into view, his face lit up before he could stop it. “Hey,” he said softly, holding the bag up like an offering. “Thought you might fancy something a bit better than hospital food. They swore these were the best in London.” He smiled, a little tentative but hopeful. “No pressure. I just… wanted to see you.”

Agatha approached her half-sister with a quiet sort of care, the gift in her hands small but thoughtfully wrapped. “I know we haven’t always gotten each other right,” she said gently, placing the box in Willa’s lap, “but while we were away, I kept thinking of things I’d like to say… and of ways to make space between us feel less complicated.”

She sat across from her, posture elegant but relaxed, and offered a soft smile. “It’s not a grand gesture — just something I saw in a shop in Izmir and couldn’t walk away from. You don’t have to like it. But I hope you’ll know it comes from a place that’s learning how to try.” She waited for her sister to open the present, a hand-carved box made of fragrant cedarwood, containing a delicate silver bracelet with blue glass Nazar charms and lunar motifs.

There was a beat of quiet between them. “I don’t want us to go back to pretending we don’t care. Not after the wedding. Not when we’ve come this far.”

It was her day and so far it'd been as special and wonderful as she'd hoped for, she'd been delighted to see everyone showing up for her and Emir. She had been particularly excited to have her sister join her up on the party, remaining by her side as she said her vows. There was still a long road to travel with her to get to a somewhat good place, but recent events had made her value family more than ever, an olive branch that had worked wonders so far. Until that very moment, when she spotted her dad talking to Willa, the expression on his face one that she did not like at all. It seemed like he was demanding something from the younger witch and Agatha would take none of it, not on her wedding day. The brunette did not care for the topic of conversation, simply rushing over to grab Willa's hand and pulling her away from their father. "Come now, it's time for a sisterly dance." She chimed, turning to smile at the girl as she lead them both towards the dancefloor.