Peter Pettigrew

lvpinremvs​:​

It was the holiday season and Remus realized he’s hardly seen Peter at all. Knowing he had a busy work schedule, he didn’t really think much of it, but it didn’t feel like Christmas without him. It had only been a day or two without seeing him, but after spending an entire seven years together, a couple days felt longer than it was, and Remus missed his friend. So, he’d gotten dressed and took off towards Peter’s apartment.

Knocking on the door, Remus took a step back and waited patiently, shoving his hands in his pockets. There was a chance he wouldn’t be home, he supposed, but it was late enough that the work day was over, hopefully he didn’t stay behind to do anything extra. Perking up as the door opened, Remus grinned widely at his friend, chuckling softly at his question. “It’s the holidays, silly. Thought we could spend some time together.”

Squeezing by Peter, he let himself in and kicked off his shoes by the door. “I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately, so I thought I’d drop by.” He sat down heavily on the sofa, making himself comfortable. “How’re things going?” He asked, finally able to get a good look Peter’s face now that he was at a different angle. His eyes were red and puffy, as though he’d just been crying. “Hey - is everything alright?” Remus questioned, concern obvious in his tone, “What’s going on?”

There was a reason he’d avoided all his friends. Feigning illness for Christmas parties and using his promotion as an excuse to work over New Years. He’d hope it would be enough. It hurt too much being around them, being on the receiving end of love and kindness he didn’t deserve. Every time he saw them he wanted to tell them just that little bit more, just to have it out before it ripped him apart.

But he couldn’t, better to just... vanish altogether with a quiet note. No less terrifying, but at least he’d never have to tell them the truth himself. He gulped, barely about to get his words out as Remus got past him. He stared at the ajar door for a moment before pressing it closed and trailing after the man like a guest in his own home. “You d-don’t need t-to.” he stuttered quietly, “M’not good c-company.”

He took a step back, as though Remus’ show of concern was an accusation, “I’m f-fine.” he said, “N-Nothing’s wrong.” he turned away and into the kitchen, “T-there’s some chocolate in the l-living room.” he added, hoping it would distract the man while he made tea. He couldn’t talk to him. Not while that letter was sitting on the table... that he’d just sent Remus too for chocolate.

Peter nearly dropped a mug as he rushed into the living room and scooped up the books, the letter hidden underneath them. “M-Messy...” he mumbled, darting back into the kitchen.  

When: Present Day - Game Time Where: London - Peter’s Apartment  With: Remus @lvpinremvs​

“It’s the Holidays and yet it feels like just another week. If it weren’t for Charlie, Bill and Percy going on about Father Christmas, I’d of forgotten about it.” Not really–she’d of remembered to gift them what they’d like and make sure her own husband got his gift. She just wished there was a way to spend the Holiday with her brothers as well. The boys would have loved to meet them; and she would have liked to see them opening gifts.

“At least it’s a distraction.”

-

“N-never really di-did much for the h-holiday.” Peter stuttered. Christmas hadn’t been a happy family time for him, not since he was very little. The Hogwarts holiday’s had been nice, but he could hardly return there and ask to sit about the Great Hall... he wouldn’t deserve it even if he could. “I-I”m just going back into work.” He’d recently been granted a promotion but hadn’t told anyone.

Celebrating anything about him felt wrong, but he liked the work... it was one of the few things he could enjoy these days.

It was his favorite time of year - he was determined that this year would be no different, although even he was having trouble staying merry and bright. But that’s what whiskey was for, right? He took another sip from his bottle at the thought, sighing happily as he turned back to the tangled strand of lights, cursing himself for putting them away so haphazardly the year before. At least when he plugged them in they’d all lit up. He hadn’t exactly gotten permission to decorate the house, but he couldn’t imagine anyone would mind. 

He caught a movement over his shoulder and tossed an oversized plastic candy cane to whoever it was without really looking. “Put these by the front door, will you?" 

-

Peter had always been... indifferent to Christmas. His parents had celebrated it modestly when he’d been little but then his mother had her heart attack and well, the holiday spirit left and never came back. He’d preferred to stay at Hogwarts over the winter breaks and even now he sent his father a card (didn’t receive one in return) and that was it. Sirius though, had caught the bug and stuck with it. He’d barely walked around the corner before something came flying at him and he helped, throwing his hands up and, luckily, managing to catch the inoffensive decoration.

“G-going bigger this year?” he quietly mumbled, patting his chest to quiet his heartbeat, it was only Sirius, “Did you even as-ask for permission this time a-around?”  

Igor didn’t have time to breathe, which was something completely normal these days. After coming back from a mission with the other aurors, he was left to write the report - Karkaroff just didn’t expect to meet Rita Skeeter waiting for him in his room, wanting an interview. After he dealt with her and the mysterious way in which she entered his office, he started writing the fucking report. He was forced to go to the Healer before they returned, but they just healed superficial wounds. The one wound that he had could only be healed by one Marlene McKinnon, but he wouldn’t be caught dead admiting this to anyone. Nobody suspected a thing about that, and if he played his cards right, nobody would. He hated being a spy, trying to act nice to people wasn’t his thing, but maybe that was a good thing. Karkaroff didn’t discriminate, he was an asshole with everybody. Okay, well, maybe he did discriminate a bit - but in his defense, mudbloods were trash.

He drank generously from his brown flask, made by iron forged by dragon fire and chimaera leather, something he bought for half a fortune but totally worth it. It wasn’t something people usually saw, he bought at the Knockturn Alley and chimaeras were, allegedly, extinct. When he heard smooth knocks on the door, swiftly placing his flask on a secret pocket inside his black fur coat, a family heirloom that was given him by his father. That one coat protected him several times on missions, but he was never allowed to bring it to his auror training. His long hair reached the middle of his back, a tradition followed by all men from his mother’s side of the family, pure-blood wizards from America. He never cut it ever since he reached maturity, it showed honor and respect.

Igor Karkaroff was the face of pure-bloods. Armed by family heirlooms, traditions and secret items purchased by shady means at an illegal place no one should know about. No one decent. No one with a slight sense of decency. Thank fuck he wasn’t decent, never had been. He has a good face, chiseled, with arching eyebrows, deep brown eyes and cheekbones sharper than most blades out there. Almost sharper than the look on his face, forget by time and life, which he accompanied with a perpetually raised head. There was a certain elegance on him, you couldn’t help but notice the regal way he held himself. You barely noticed his soft features, how, infact, he was actually a pretty boy. Not manly like other men were, especially his co-workers. But you couldn’t help but wanting to look at him more or never daring to look straight at him. 

 When the person who knocked entered, Igor couldn’t help but smirk when he saw who it was. Pretty boy number two, Peter Pettigrew, another spy. Something inside Peter’s blue eyes made Igor want to shake him and turn him upside down, how could he act like that? He never understood people who walked with their heads down and averted their eyes. Natural selection would take care of them. He never felt it before, this will to pick that guy from his scalp and show him all of his potential. However, all of it remained in his head. He stared at the man, with a raised eyebrow. 

“So?” He asked, demanding more from Pettigrew.

-

He hated it when he needed to be around... them. Christ, he couldn’t even think the title it was so embedded in him as a worry. Being a part of them just made it worst, it felt as though every one who knew could rip his entire life away at a moment’s notice if he messed up and they’d likely do it with a smile on their face. It also didn’t help that Auror Karkaroff happened to have a pretty nice face, from the very little he’d seen of it. Every inch of him just screamed power and control, it was a far cry from anything Peter could hope to muster. Not that he was looking to. Power just got you noticed and being noticed often resulted in death in these times. No, obscurity was a much safer bet for him but it was a tightrope to walk every single day.

Peter missed the smirk on the older man’s face as he shuffled inside, his back practically touching a book case opposite the man’s desk as he kept his distance. He flinched slightly at the curt word, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. Why did he have to talk more? The report would tell the man everything he needed to know, but to put it that way would be rude and, again, the goal was to fade from view. “T-the team who examined the m-murder scene f-felt they n-needed someone w-w-with a keener eyes to ch-ch-ch- to look over the place, Sir.” he stuttered out. It was pretty interesting on the face of it. A wealthy couple, both half-bloods with seemingly no ties to the ongoing war, had the Obliviator’s going all night after duelling one another in the house till the wife had murdered the husband. His body had been... Well, he was very dead. But, despite the overwhelming circumstantial evidence the wife insisted an intruder had broken in and attacked them both.

And, without her wand, they had no way to one hundred percent disprove her story.

He lifted his hands a little higher, holding the papers out a little more, hoping Igor would take them and then Peter could be on his way, he finally snuck the briefest of glanced up and caught sight of the handsome man, standing proud in his black fur coat, looking towards him less then happily. “H-head Auror M-Moody recommended you f-for the role, S-sir.” he finally stuttered out, hoping that would be enough to get the other man to take the files and leave to examine the Gamor’s former residence.  

Dora had accounted for most of those she adored; all save for one. For the life of her, she couldn’t quite recall the last time she had seen Peter. The boy was always the most quiet of the bunch, but that never stopped her from being capable of giving him her undivided attention when need be. But now–she was finding it a bit hard to even track the wizard down. By the second day, she had finally managed to learn where to find her dear friend. 

“Peter? Darling, it’s Dora.” She sighed, knocking softly and frowning at the way things felt in the air. It felt so depressing–and when she let herself in, she was quite heartbroken to see that things didn’t hold the holiday spirit she was used to. “…Peter?” Her voice had a hint of concern, and she had drawn her wand in case anyone had decided to harm him and stick around. “If anyone laid a hand on him, I hope you are indeed in possession of a deathwish.” The one thing that could assure her wrath would be to harm someone she loved. While it may surprise many, but Peter was someone she wouldn’t hesitate to protect and keep in her care.  

Once she laid eyes on him, there was a breath of relief that escaped her. Immediately, her wand was away and she had her arms out to pull him into a warm embrace, Her face burying into his hair as she fought the urge to cry over having missed him so much. “Peter–I had to look for you for twodays! I thought you were taken or hurt or–” She didn’t even say the last word. No. He wasn’t dead. No one had the nerve to even try to take him away from their group of friends. “I …was looking for you because I didn’t know what size to make your sweater.”

Pandora frowned softly, her eyes scanning over the young wizard as she eyed his posture. Her hands were gentle, pushing hair away from his face while her lips pressed loving kisses to his forehead. “It’s going to be Christmas soon. I wanted to spend it with everyone I love, and it wouldn’t be right if I excluded you, my love. You’re my family as well.” She offered a smile, her arms pulling for another hug as she let out a sigh, still overwhelmed with relief over seeing him alive. 

“My quiet little trickster.” She chuckled, “Peter–” She looked around, not liking the idea of him being anywhere where he wasn’t among those that loved him. Him and Remus seemed to be rather good at beating themselves up over the most trivial of things. “…I’m taking you home. Tilden and Dirk can help me get your things together, but you’re coming home.”

-

He didn’t decorate for Christmas, he’d never needed to. At home when he was a baby his parents had, they’d enjoyed small holiday celebrations with few but well-intentioned gifts but then his mother fell ill. They never had a Christmas after that. She wasn’t well enough for it, his father didn’t have he mood for it and Peter was too scared to ask about it. once he hit his Hogwarts years the school did the decorating for all the students and he’d spent most of the holidays there. Again, presents had been lacking (though James’ parents had often sent one along and of course his friends had made an effort). But now he was out of the school, and it was safe to say the ‘holiday spirit’ was lacking.

The spirit to do much at all was lacking really. His situation tumbled around in his mind like a buoy in some very turbulent seas. He was so lost in his own worry he didn’t even hear the door and remained sat at his kitchen table, head resting on one palm while the other wrung its fingers together, grasping at nothing, just like his attempts to find a way out. Days in hiding and he’d not come up with a thing. Some expert planner...

He started at the sound of his name and full-on jumped, wrestling with the hands grabbing at him till he’d pulled himself away from the attacker, putting the table between them and figuring a place to run t- Oh... It was Pandora. Peter’s cheeks rouged and he looked down, his breathing a little heavy and heart going a mile a minute with the adrenaline pumping through it.    

“M-Mrs Lovegood.” he stuttered, overly formal like he was with most other Order members. She’d been pretty protective of him lately and while he did appreciate another skirt to hide behind (literally in this case) the familiarity of the woman was more than a little intimidating. “I-I am home...” he said quietly, “I-I’m happy h-here.” There wasn’t a decoration in sight but there was a hamster cage under the bed and these days that was the only way he could actually get some sleep.

“The knife isn’t having any sort of agency,” Gideon chuckled, “knives are inanimate objects!”

All the same, he gave a little shrug and returned to slip the knife back into his bag. He hadn’t been intending to actually throw it when he’d taken it out, but now he was a bit disappointed he hadn’t gotten to try. He understood that something about it was scaring Peter more than usual. “You’re having a fear of knives, aren’t you? I’ll have to be keeping that in mind for later such times.”

-

”W-we’re wizards.” he stuttered, “A r-robe tried to strangle S-Sirius once.” Apparently in his own house too.

Regardless, ‘inanimate’ didn’t apply to things it should in their world. His eyes went a little wide at the (gently framed) accusation, “N-no, I have a healthy w-worry they can hurt me.” He was afraid of so many thing (and rightly so as far as he was concerned) but he would use a knife to cut his loaf of bread like any old fella. When people talked about throwing pointed objects about he got scared, though of course, none of these words passed his lips. “L-later times?” Did though.  

“You live here too?” Tilden was delighted to see a friend of his at the Lovegood’s home. In fact, he was pretty sure that it was becoming a pattern to find that most people were frequent visitors here. “It’s great to see you, Peter! Wow–it’s been so long! Oh, don’t fear the extra thumb, that kind of happened. Plus, it’s not even deadly? I think– even if it was, I don’t think it would be a bad way to go. My obituary would be amazing, and I would want everyone to frame it.” Tilden grinned, still being his ever happy self. “Did Pandora kidnap you or did you come willingly? I’m willing–Daisy had me stay here since her place is full. But I’m guessing she had to kidnap you?”

As he felt Peter’s arms around him, Remus seemingly melted into his friend, suddenly having a hard time keeping his emotions in check. Of course there were people in his life that did accept him as he was, Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey. But he never expected the same type of acceptance from his peers. His eyes grew slightly wide as Peter pulled away from him, not knowing what to expect from him, but he knew it would be another surprise as he was gripping his arms rather hard.

Feeling his expression soften while he listened to his friend go on, Remus couldn’t stop tears from spilling from his eyes. This wasn’t what he’d ever expect to hear from anybody but especially not from Peter. It was like a shock to his entire system but in the best way possible. Smiling, he shook his head slightly and wrapped his arms around his friend once more, squeezing him even tighter than he did last time. “Thank you.” Remus whispered, nuzzling his head against Peter. “I didn’t expect this. Thank you.”

Pulling away again, Remus settled back into the corner of the couch, reaching up to dry his tears on his sleeves. “Not even my parents were as quick to accept that news as you were.” He said softly, his eyes falling down to where his hands sat in his lap. “I spent my whole childhood hearing my father tell me that I’d never make a decent wizard, I’ll never have friends.” Remus sighed, but a smile was still on his lips. Even if his father didn’t think he’d ever achieve anything, here he was, at Hogwarts with three best friends. Things he didn’t think he’d ever be able to say in his life.

-

Oh no... Oh dear... Remus was crying. Remus was crying and he didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen Remus cry (come to think of it he’d never seen any of his friends cry, that was usually his thing) but right now he felt somewhat stumped. The confidence he’d commanded moments ago had vanished into the ether and Peter wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to feel it again, it just felt unnatural, like he wasn’t supposed to act that way. But, more immediate problems first!

“U-umm...” he swallowed and, still gripping Remus’ arms though with a fraction of the strength, began to rub his hands up and down a little, “It’s okay...” his tongue came out a little to wet his lip and he continued, “I mean... What did you expect me to do? Go tell everyone?” A whisper of a laugh escaped him, “I can’t even t-talk to most other students.” He was likely incapable of spreading secrets. They were squished close again so Peter continued to rub small circles in Remus’ back, it came a little easier this time.

“I’m not planning to be hurting any people,” he reminded Peter, but took a few steps back when he was prompted. “Knives can be good for many such things too, things that aren’t involving the hurting of people. Cooking, carving, opening things, pruning plants, gardening in general…” 

He eyed the stretch of wall across from him as he spoke, but turned to glance back at Peter at the end of his tangent. “You’re not interested in the science of it?”

-

“The kn-knife doesn’t care about that.” Peter said jerking his head from side to side. Sure it could be used just as well to chop an onion or cur out a shape but when the guy was talking about throwing them around, Peter felt it was too close to tempting fate.

“N-not really.” he was never that great at science in school, or school in general. His grades would suggest otherwise but fear dampened all of his abilities, especially the enjoyment of throwing sharp objects.    

James was ever so worried about Peter, he had always been shy and the stutter didn’t help, now that he had been taken it must have been even worse and he wanted Pete to feel he could still feel safe around him and their other friends. “Sure, mate.” he ordered for the both of them and smiled at his friend, “How is work? Anything interesting lately?”

-

“T-they o-o-only let me c-c-come back y-y-yesterday.” he said quietly. They’d done everything to keep him from his desk, worried he wasn’t quite recovered enough to be there; maybe they were right. His boss, the senior clerk, had hovered in and out of his doorway so often she’d barely gotten her own work done. He’d felt like such a burden. “T-they don’t w-w-want me left by m-my-m-” he licked his lips and shook his head a little, “Alone.”

As soon as Remus had finished his sentence, he could feel a panic attack coming on. His heartbeat picked up as he moved his eyes away from his friend. He didn’t want to see how he would react, he didn’t want to see the fearful look in his eyes or the disgust on his face. This was a bad idea, he decided. He shouldn’t have said anything, left Peter in the dark, let him believe whatever theory he wanted to. There was no way he’d be okay with something like this, with the fact that his friend was a monster. That there was a chance, if something went wrong, that he could kill him.

There was a silence around them, the only noise in the common room was the crackling fire behind him. Remus wasn’t going to do anything to break it, he’d give Peter time to sit with the information and make a decision. But he knew what decision he’d make. He wouldn’t want to continue their friendship, he’d tell Remus to back off, perhaps put in a request to switch dorms so he didn’t have to share a room with a werewolf. He would tell James and Sirius, and they would tell everybody else in their year, then it would spread throughout Hogwarts like wildfire. He regretted saying anything.  

But then Peter spoke, and Remus brought his eyes back up to him. You’re still my friend. Although he was quiet, there was a confidence in his tone that he hadn’t heard from him. Not even when Remus had been pressing him so much before. Peter made his decision, and while it wasn’t the one he’d expected, it felt like a weight had lifted off his shoulders. Standing up abruptly, the textbook in his lap falling to the floor as he moved seats to sit beside Peter, he wrapped both of his arms around his friend tightly. “Are you sure?” Remus asked quietly, “You really want to be friends with a monster?”

-

Peter wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next. In TV shows where there was some grand reveal things tended to just fade to black or move onto the next scene but... this wasn’t a TV show, and Peter’s confidence wained at the best of times so he’d dropped his gaze back to his lap and was wondering if they should just go back up to bed or not when he saw Remus move out of the corner of his eye and, before he knew it the text book was on the floor and Remus’ arms were around him... And Peter had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do.

Physical contact, well it’d been all but non-existent for him after his mother had gotten ill. He didn’t want her to strain and his father, well they just weren’t that close. It felt odd, a little scary but not overwhelming. So, after perhaps too long of a pause, his arms came up and he hugged Remus back, though he lacked the strength of his friend. Again he found himself wondering what they were supposed to do next but then, Remus spoke, and called himself a monster. So simply, so matter-of-fact, it made him... angry? Had he ever really been angry before.

Gideon paused, blinking back to Peter at the sound of the alarm in his voice, a soft smile taking his features as he shook his head gently. “Don’t be to the worrying of it, Peter- I’m certainly not planning to be hurting anyone, there are ways to be having fun and safe recreational knife throwing, you know.” All the same, he pulled the knife from his bag and made no move to throw it, yet. “It’s the physics of it that I find to be of such a fascinating sort.”

-

“D-doesn’t matter what you plan... Kn-knives can hurt people.” That what what they were for, it didn’t matter what form or how. His back itched just thinking about the ghostly blade the Dark Lord had nearly rip him in two. He took a step back, “F-find it fascinating a few s-steps back please.” He didn’t want to be around them no matter who happened to be swinging one around.  

Remus sighed softly at his comment. Peter was just as smart as the rest of them, and he wished that he could see that about himself. Sometimes he wished he could switch places with him for a day, just so he could see the way everybody else saw him. Peter was capable of doing anything he put his mind to, if only he could get past his insecurities and self-doubt. But he’d decided not to comment on it. Perhaps, if he could help the rest of them learn the drying charm, he’d start to see what the rest of them saw in him. “Honestly, I’m surprised that professors are even able to read anything Sirius hands in.” Remus laughed softly, “Smudged ink on top of his already messy penmanship, I feel sorry for any professors that have to read his essays.”            

Waiting patiently for Peter to wrack his brain, Remus tried his best not to stare at him. He didn’t want to put on any added pressure, he knew he was already pushing him harder than usual. “There’s gotta be something that I don’t know about you.” He encouraged with a smile, though he was much more nervous himself as he let on. Was he really about to admit to somebody that he was a werewolf? This wasn’t going to go well - hopefully Peter shared something that was equally as shocking. But as he spoke again, a frown crossed his features. He didn’t really know much of anything about Peter’s parents, besides the fact that his father was a muggle. “Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.” He commented, not really sure how to respond to something like that. “Thankfully Madam Pomfrey is an extremely skilled witch - if anything were to happen, at least you’ll be well taken care of.”

Realizing that it was now his turn to share, Remus took in a deep breath. He was trying to show Peter confidence, so he knew he couldn’t change his mind and back out. Besides, maybe this would go well. Maybe he’d feel better about his condition if he’d talked about it out loud. But it was terrifying. What if Peter went and told everybody else about it? What if, by the end of the day tomorrow, everybody in Hogwarts knew about it? He’d be made fun of, looked down on. No one would talk to him anymore - he’d have to go home and have his father homeschool him. Which wasn’t a better option, his father hated werewolves more than anybody else he’d ever met. Finally letting out the air he’d taken in, he brought his gaze back up to Peter. It was now or never. “I’m not sick. My trips to the hospital wing aren’t because I have an illness. I…” He paused, running his hand through his hand through his hair before continuing. “I’m there so frequently because I’m a werewolf. Madam Pomfrey takes care of me after my transformations.”

-

Peter shrugged at Remus’ words, truth be told he didn’t know either, he’d tried to read some hastily scrawled notes Remus had lent him once and, well... he’d soon returned them with a ‘thanks’ and then borrowed Remus’ instead. “He does good work.” he eventually said with a small shrug, “I guess teachers are willing to focus a little more cause they know he’s worth the effort.” Unlike him... maybe that was why he’d worked to master the charm; if he gave in work that was easily legible maybe the Professors might not grade him so harshly? Unlikely, but he needed all the help he was going to get if he was going to make it through this school. He knew he didn’t have a hope in the muggle world, so maybe he could actually find some happiness here.

He’d already found more than he’d expected, in Sirius, Remus and James, friends for maybe the first time in his life; his mother said he’d always find friends eventually. That alone was enough motivation to help him try, he didn’t want to lose them, He shrugged at Remus’ reply, “It’s okay. They don’t know for sure, Dad didn’t have the time to take me to an appointment.” He worked so much and then Peter was in school and when he was home for the summer the man worked longer shifts, went to the pub after and then passed out as soon as he got home. They just didn’t know how to be around each other. “Maybe it’s all fine.” It probably wasn’t... Peter didn’t get lucky like that, but he did his best to shove the thought down and carry on, as though he could ignore the prospect of a bad heart and then he simply wouldn’t have one.

His arms had come up and wrapped around each other without him even noticing and his legs had curled up too, making himself smaller on instinct. He did look up sightly though, after all, Remus had something he wanted to share as well and Peter wasn’t gonna be rude and ignore him. When he did speak... Peter didn’t respond, he just blinked. He knew about Werewolves, and not just from muggle stories or Scooby Doo episodes; they’d covered the topic in Defence Against the Dark Arts (albeit briefly). People who turned into monstrous wolf-people every full moon and ran rampant, killing, biting or eating anything human that got in their way. He just stared at Remus, his mind processing, thinking, putting together Remus’ monthly absences that made so much more sense now. People didn’t like werewolves, they were ‘shunned’ that was the word their professor had used... Dangerous. But Remus... could he... would be?

A younger, meaner version of Marlene would’ve made fun of Peter’s stutter. She was tempted to do so even now when Peter found it difficult to get his words out, but she had been yelled at by their friends enough that they’d manage to discipline that behaviour out of her. She did, however, make fun of what he said repeating it back to him in a mocking tone only to shower him with compliments. “I’m terrible at fighting. Peter stop lying, I know what you can do. You practically fought off the Dark Lord. Well you did! You survived. Bit worse for wear, sure, but Merlin Peter if you’re terrible at fighting I don’t know what chance the rest of us stand.”     

“You’re so hard on yourself.” She added after a moment of contemplation on the issue. All these years she had overlooked him, maybe it was because he never truly showed how brilliant he was. “You should let the world see your bravery.” It was unusual for a pep-talk to come from Marlene, but then again, was it really a pep-talk if she said it in a tone of annoyance? 

His job sounded dull. She didn’t even know what a clerk did all day. She instantly decided it must be a cover for his secret, much cooler, job in the Department of Mysteries. “And what exactly does a clerk do?” Maybe she would catch him in the lie. If only she knew the real answer so she’d know if he was telling the truth. 

-

Reason’s like this were why he’d gone out of his way to avoid the girl in school, it was people mocking his stutter that made him not want to talk at all. Professor Flitwick had held him behind after class in his first year when he’d ‘refused’ to answer a question but, once the Charms Professor got the truth out of him he’d been nothing but kind, he even made a cupcake dance for him and let Peter eat it afterwards... If everyone was more like him the world might be a better place; wasn’t that a fools thought? “N-no, no I didn’t.” he shook his head, the action looking ridiculous in the large bear suit, “I d-don’t wanna talk about that, please.”

Her next words were enough to make him look up, out of shock if nothing else; when on God’s green earth had Marlene every given him a real example of kind words like that? Sure she’d complimented him a lot lately (completely undeserved and he hated it) but those words hit differently... even if she said them as though they were a chore. “I don’t h-have any... you d-don’t get it.”

His Russian quidditch team had lost a match on international match and he was pissed off. Not because he was a quidditch fan, he couldn’t care less, he was just a sore looser. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, for starters he didn’t particularly think he was any of that, Karkaroff just only knew how to win. How humble of him, right? Due to that, he was currently in an awful mood.  

– If you’re here to talk about anything but this nice jar of kompot, try another day. – He stated, pouring himself a glass from the full jar, which clearly had been filled many times. If anyone knew that kompot was actually a kids drink, they would make fun of him endlessly. Especially because he kinda looked like one at that moment after having his pride hurt.

-

Peter gulped, he preferred to just send flying memos around to other members of the department, it was a much quickly and less personal way of interacting, but occasionally some rather sensitive documents came through that could risk flying unattended from one office to another, so in those time he needed to walk them over himself; in this case, some court files to an Auror he’d never met before, a Mr. Karkaroff.

“I-I’m sorry S-Sir.” he loitered in the doorway, having no idea what kompot was but it looked kinda like rosé wine. “I have a d-delivery.” Peter didn’t meet the man’s gaze, his eyes more focused on his chest, it was usually safer that way, “T-the files you needed for the G-Gamor case.” Which another clerk would take twice as long to find but Peter, despite his many faults, was a top worker.