#xmm.

“really?” peter hummed, looking up at the sky. “i thought the world was ending!” he snickered, but then stopped suddenly, weary that his joke might’ve cost him something. “i mean uh, yeah, it’s snowing. the sky, uh.. does that. in the winter. merry christmas! how’s your christmas..?”

“sure, but i don’t know if i’ll be of much help,” he chuckled, crossing his arms. having anything to do with alcohol always ended in some kind of tragedy for peter–the night of the ball one of those tragedies. he was a master of holding it down, not managing what he did under its influence. “how do you even know how to do that?”

“well, he is known to be a cute figure,” peter teased, and shrugged. “guess that makes me one, too. shucks vernon–thank you. merry freakin’ christmas.”

“good. serves you right for throwin’ it at my arse.” peter chuckled, arms spread wide for a taunting shrug. 

“well maybe,” he patted the poor ravenclaw on his back and sighed, pseudo disappointment and all. “you should’ve worn a coat.”

peter laughed and grinned. “think so?” boredom and unfeathered thoughts might be what got him here on his particular day. amidst the cold and wet floor of the castle, visible to everything and everyone. “wanna know what’s not cute? snow in your pants.” 

“my lovely sister.” grinning slyly, he plastered his hands on her cheeks, purposefully letting them linger in its chilling glory. “share the warmth. merry freakin’ christmas.”

If you’re down, I’m down. ;-)