oh shit!

Having three older kids, all very much like their father, and two month old twins, Molly needed to get out of the house. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take of her kids fighting with each other, screaming and running around. Even going outside seemed to have lost her kids interest, as they were constantly fighting who can fly which broom. Even Percy was getting cabin fever, a feat not often achieved as he was usually happy when he was at home reading his books.

So Molly decided to take them to the all wizarding town of Hogsmeade. She wasn’t entirely sure what they would do once they got there, but she needed the time out of the house as much as her kids did. For once, since she had given birth, she was up to the task of taking three boys and two infants out for a few hours.

Packing the essentials and making sure she brought extra jackets just in case her boys got cold (which she knew they probably wouldn’t because they were always running around), Molly flooed herself and her five kids into The Three Broomsticks. Had she not just given birth, she would have apparated, but she found apparition made her nauseous (yes, even after a month after giving birth) and that was the last thing she wanted to be outside of the comfort of her own home while she had to wrangle three kids and make sure her newborn twins were comfortable.

They quickly walked out of the crowded pub and Molly found a table outside in the sun and sat herself down, her kids running around and looking into the shops aligning the cobblestoned street. As it was Percy’s nap time and he couldn’t keep up with Bill and Charlie, he pulled himself up on Molly’s lap, cuddled himself into her body. She set the twins down in their traveling bassinet right next to her, comfortable swaddled in their blankets.

He felt at peace in Hogsmeade. Maybe it was because there were so many good memories there, of weekends spent buying things he didn’t really need ( mostly candy ) and trying to get alcohol from Rosmerta. Above all, Hogwarts loomed over the town, and the sight continued to be something that somewhat calmed Peter. 

He longed to be back there, in all honesty, to return to days where his biggest worries were plain ones. While he liked the freedom that came with being graduated, he couldn’t help but want to return, to stress about grades and play harmless and harmful pranks, to not worry about this damned war. Maybe he was idealising his time at Hogwarts now that he was gone, as it hadn’t all been sunshine and rainbows. Still, he was certain he’d been calmer then, that his anxiety had been quieter during those days, even when he’d had to deal with McGonagall.

He was roaming the small town in an attempt to escape a little. Peter only found himself reminiscing, though, which was both good and bad for his state of mind: the longing he felt was only increasing, while he was also remembering plenty of good moments. He was growing used to having mixed feelings about most things, though. It was part of his daily routine. 

Eyes fell on Molly as he moved past the Three Broomsticks, and he hesitated a moment before approaching her. As he moved over, Peter painted a small smile on his lips, halting when he got close enough. “Hiya Molly,” he said, letting his gaze go from Molly to her kids -- that one was Percy, if he remembered correctly -- and relaxing a little. He liked children, thought them both amusing and endearing ( still, he hardly wanted them himself: that was something he didn’t even want to think about ). “How’re you doing? Enjoying the nice weather, and all?”

― 𝑀𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒫𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒫𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓌 ―  

BLOOD STATUS ⇢ Half-Blood AGE ⇢ Nineteen PREVIOUS HOUSE ⇢ Gryffindor EMPLOYMENT ⇢ Assistant in a local Book Store AFFILIATION ⇢ Order of The Phoenix PATRONUS ⇢ Rat BOGGART ⇢ Lord Voldemort FACE CLAIM ⇢ Iain de Caestecker

― 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓉𝓈 ― 

POSITIVE ⇢ Humorous, Allocentric, Cunning NEGATIVE ⇢ Passive, Insecure, Obsessive

― 𝒜𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓈 / 𝒜𝓈𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 ―  

Spare change, Baggy jumpers, Battered comic books, Ink stains, Cassette tapes, Half smoked spliffs, Mismatched socks, Tracing the veins in your wrist, Brightly coloured candies, Card tricks at three in the morning, The smell of breakfast, Shaking hands and quivering knees, Crying from laughter, Insomnia, Fish and chips, Cursing for a minute straight, Take out food

― 𝐵𝒾𝑜𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓅𝒽𝓎 ―  

Perhaps Peter Pettigrew was never destined for greatness. Raised by solely his mother after his father left the two of them when he was merely three years old, he learned how to be alone early on. And boy, was he good at it. He found that the sound of silence, sometimes broken by the soft noise of a page turning allowed him to enter a whole different world, one in which his mother didn’t refuse to speak about the mysterious man who had once been the love of his life, one where he didn’t worry about the emptiness that could often be found in the brown eyes of his single parent. After all, Caroline Pettigrew was a fragile woman, one who tried to carry the world on her shoulders but wasn’t build to become stronger, but rather to collapse.

She was his best friend for the vast majority of his childhood, Peter not connecting with the children at the muggle elementary school he attended so his mother could work. He was odd and quiet, preferred spending his lunch breaks in a corner on his own rather than joining the burping contests or food fights others had.He found peace in solitude, it after all allowed his mind to wander through stories that his imagination created. A damaged self esteem, however, did come from the loneliness that Peter experienced; he was a kid, after all, and had a natural desire for fitting in and being liked.

This desire continued to fill him up when Hogwarts started coming around. He had heard the stories, of course, from his ex-Hufflepuff mother and former-Gryffindor-grandfather, and each and every one contained friends: something he had never truly had, except for the other shy, silent kid in school. And so he went, with fear in his stomach and a silent determination in his heart. It was the latter that got him sorted into Gryffindor, together with the admiration for bravery he got from the books and comics he devoured back at home. While this was an immense surprise, the fact that he found friends – three, even – was even bigger.

Being part of the marauders boosted up his self-esteem. He belonged, and while everyone wondered how he ended up being friends with these other three boys, he had a role, created a balance that would be absent without him. However, as years moved on, his boosted up self esteem became more and more fragile, Peter noticing every single thing that made him different, less than his friends. A fear has started to bubble under the surface, Peter feeling like his three friends could abandon him any second —- they would manage perfectly without him, after all.

Peter is very observant, quitely sitting on the sidelines and watching as he notices things, small things that others don’t see because they’re too busy not observing, too busy with just being. He is the perfect supporter, the one who will cheer loudest for you. The fourth piece of the marauders, he may not be incredibly crucial, but he is still needed for a balance. His value is unclear to him, and maybe to his friends as well, but it is there.

Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart (via

infpisme

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