Peter Pettigrew... wasn’t sure where his suit jacket had ended up. He knew he’d changed into the blue suit for the reception, hoping the color wouldn’t bring attention to his puffy eyes. The wedding itself had been beautiful, and perhaps it was the alcohol currently in his system, but he wasn’t sure he’d cry that much at his own wedding. If he had one. After the break he’d had, Remus’s mother’s funeral... He’d just enjoyed seeing one of his mates so happy. He took a sip from the glass in his hand, taking another sip. He’d had someone else fix him a drink for the second time that night, and this one was delicious. While he didn’t drink often, a wedding between two important people in his life was cause for celebration. He stayed by the drink table, watching the festivities going on as he merrily sipped his drink.
“Never going to be a bloody better pairing at this school,” Peter told the person next to him, small smile on his lips. “I think we all needed something good to happen. The world’s wild.”
during the wedding, he wore the dark maroon suit. he changed into the navy suit for the reception, but the second he got drunk, the suit jacket came off. who knows where it went--he doesn’t.
“You’re not going to fail,” Remus shook his head with a sigh, sitting up more before turning to face his friend. “You know I’d help you, right? All you have to do is ask.” Remus told him, before his cheeks coloured at the phrase boyfriend. “Uh, I’m pretty sure he was going to yeah, but if you’d prefer I can go to his dorm, I’m sure Gideon won’t mind.”
Peter groaned softly in response, the sound muffled by the mattress beneath him. One and a half years into choosing Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he still wasn’t even sure why he bothered. “I know, Moony. I know.” He’d never ask his friend for that help, though, and he knew it. It felt pathetic, trying to match up to his friends in that class. “Nah. I think I like your boyfriend more than you,” he teased, moving to sit up on his bed. “So it’s official now? Because I’m having a hard time keeping this from James and Sirius.”
A small smile crept up on her face when she saw it was Peter, relaxing a little. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until now, perhaps because she just wanted everything to be perfect, and she couldn’t truly relax until it was. “Flint, really? I didn’t realize we were back to using surnames, Pettigrew.” She teased, giving him a small wink. “But thanks. I guess the music really is the only nice thing about this.”
Peter normally couldn’t handle people winking at him. Girls, guys, it didn’t matter. He’d freeze up and become a bumbling mess. But Cordelia was different. Both friend and ex, somehow she was still a comfort to be around. “Dels, you know you’re good when you dance.” She was the best, really. It wasn’t anything he felt like he could judge, but he knew her, and he knew how she worked. She was the best--he was convinced. “But, yeah, good music. You always had good taste.”
Peter couldn’t believe it when he’d heard–Remus’s mom was dead. Even after hours crying, trying to console his friend, being at her goddamn funeral, it didn’t feel real. He wiped a few stray tears away, almost expecting for Mrs. Lupin to come around the corner. Remus and his father didn’t deserve this heartbreak. His eyes glanced around the crowd as it started to dissipate, spotting a whole slew of familiar faces. However, there was one face he’d have expected to be close to Remus who was oddly missing from the event. Stu was dating Remus; shouldn’t this have been a priority for him? His eyes narrowed in confusion as he walked toward his friend.
“–Moony, did your boyfriend just not show up?” There was a tension, a slight twinge of anger to his voice that he hadn’t heard in a long time, and all for the sake of his friend. Stu was great in his book, but missing this funeral was a shit move.
It was break time for Peter Pettigrew, which could only mean one thing--he was looking for any and all reason to leave the house. His aunt always made him feel jumpy and unwelcome. The one gift she gave him was that, if he was out of sight, he seemed to be out of mind, so he could sneak out through his bedroom window and apparate away to go for a walk. When his friends were busy, he liked exploring new areas to clear his head. And this night was no different. As he wandered through, passing a few bars he didn’t know, he wondered if he might go in. But he knew he wouldn’t. He was more of a social drinker than anything, not liking how stupid he got when he drank alone. So he passed them up... all of the bars. And as the street got quieter, he saw the figure of a woman about his age, alone, and it didn’t sit right with him.
“--M-Miss?” he called out, hating the sound of his own voice as it left his throat. Her blonde hair shone in the dim streetlamp, and as he caught sight of her profile, his heart skipped a beat. Kasia Karkaroff was perhaps one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. He almost froze up, until he realized that a woman like that shouldn’t be left alone out here. The closer he got, the more upset he looked, the more intoxicated she looked. “Kasia?” he asked, closer and a bit quieter now. “It’s, erm, Peter. Peter Pettigrew. We go to school together.” Internally, he winced. Of course she knew that... hopefully. “Are you alright?”
Was that ARIA SHAHGHASEMI I just saw walking down the hallways? Oh wait, no - that was PETER PETTIGREW. The male is a TWENTY year old GRYFFINDOR who is in YEAR NINE. I heard the HALFBLOOD has chosen to STAY NEUTRAL which explains why HE is OBSERVANT and DROLL, but also FICKLE, ANXIOUS and INSECURE. But who really knows?Â
Peter Pettigrew was born to a single witch, Lynne Pettigrew, after a one-night stand with a muggle man left her pregnant. After giving birth to Peter, she moved in with her sister, Enid, so the two women took to raising the next Pettigrew. While Peter lived a relatively comfortable life, his mother wasn’t around much, working often in order to provide for them both. And his Aunt Enid was very hard on him, trying her best to get him to live up to the family name. Peter, however, was a shy and timid kid who could never settle on a decision. Bring him into a candy shop, and he’d spend an hour deciding between licorice wands and mice pops, only to settle on Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans when his Aunt finally yelled at him to hurry up. While his mother tried to dote on him, she was normally too tired after work, so his Aunt became his main caregiver and disciplinarian.
When Peter finally got his Hogwart’s letter, all his Aunt could say was that she was glad he would finally get some character under the tutelage of his teachers there. Said they’d whip him into shape. She ended up scaring him so badly that by the time he was set to go to Hogwarts, he almost begged his mother to let him just stay home. Almost--he couldn’t put that burden on her. So he sat alone on the train, twiddling his thumbs and trying to mind his bouncing leg like his Aunt had always told him to do.
He was a hatstall. He fully expected, once his name was called, to be quickly sorted like all the other kids in his year, but as he sat under the hat, he found himself stuck for five whole minutes. It felt like ages to him. He wondered, as he sat under it, if he’d broken the sorting hat. But it was deliberating... Gryffindor or Slytherin? In the end, without much input from him, and to his own surprise, Gryffindor won, and he found himself surrounded by the red and gold of his new housemates.
It didn’t take him as long as he thought to find some friends, and they were friends he’d keep for years to come. James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black became his saving grace during his school years. While he never understood what they saw in him, he knew what he liked about them. For the first few years, he sort of followed whatever the other three wanted him to do, for fear that he might lose them if he were to speak up. But, slowly, they coaxed more personality from him, finding a rather odd sense of humor, a good secret-keeper, and a big heart underneath.
With the war becoming more serious, Peter has yet to pick a side. Though he knows he should be brave with his friends and join the Order of the Phoenix, part of him wishes he could simply bury his head in the sand until the war was over. He’s picked up smoking as a nasty habit, rarely sleeps through the night anymore. He knows his fear will only get worse as time goes on, but he’s not sure he’s as good as his friends. Perhaps that’s just his own fear talking. No one wants to die at a young age, after all.
Peter would’ve never considered becoming an animagus had he not found out about Remus’s lycanthropy. However, it was quite possibly the best decision he’d ever made. The idea of him being a rat was a longstanding “joke.” After his first Christmas home, he was so eager to get back to his new friends that he’d forgotten to clean his room up. He’d left it a mess. His aunt, in her anger, had sent him a howler, calling him ilygoden fawr fach--little rat. While it was the only time she said it, he’d found it almost funny in the coming years, and it most definitely inspired him to pick the rat as his animagus.Â
There is a nagging voice in the back of Peter’s mind that consistently tells him that he isn’t good enough for his friend group. He’s not brilliant or smooth or really much funnier than the rest of them. Some nights, on his worst nights, he thinks that it must be pity that ties the rest of the Marauders to him. Pity for the little leech that latched onto them and wouldn’t let go. Still, he adores his friends and can’t imagine a world without them.
He may be a Defense Against the Dark Arts major with his friends, but that doesn’t mean he’s any good at it. He’s doing rather poorly in his classes. It isn’t for lack of trying, as he can often he found tirelessly working on his studies, normally falling flat on his ass.Â
Clubs: Gobstones Club
Major: Defense Against the Dark Arts
Wanted Connections: friends, exes, people to pull him towards the order, people to pull him towards the death eaters, a duelling partner, really anything.
Remus’ eyes trailed over the page of the book he was reading, curled up on his bed. Hearing the door crack open, Remus’ head lifted up – half expecting to see his boyfriend, instead of his room mate. “You alright, Pete?” Remus questioned the other, quirking a brow as he set his book down.
Peter would be lying if he said he hoped Remus wouldn’t be in their dorm by the time he got back in for the day. He’d gotten his ass handed to him while practicing some defensive spells, soot still on his face from when he’s fallen to the floor. He sighed, moving over towards his bed. “Fine, Moony. Just wondering when I’m going to fail out of school. Nothing big.” He dropped his bag on his bed, before moving to flop down on it as well. “Your boyfriend coming over later?”
“Now, now, don’t all shower me with gifts at once,” James said with a smile, leaning forward in his seat. “I know it’s my birthday, the most important day of the year, but we will be celebrating all week so there is no rush.” ( @finestra-starters· )
“Bloody right, mate.” Peter knew James’s birthday week was essentially the most important holiday of the spring season. His mate made sure of it. “It’s like, what, second Jamesmas, right?” He still had to wrap his gift for James. He’d spent all night trying, but the paper never sat right on the bottle.
Cordelia had been trying to nail that new routine she was working on. And quite frankly, to an untrained eye, it probably looked nearly perfect. But it was never good enough for her. And as she finished it once one, she made a small displeased face. “This was terrible.” She mumbled under her breath. Only when she turned over to stop the music did she realize someone else was in there. “Oh, shoot! Didn’t realize you were here.”Â
( @finestra-starters· )
Peter hadn’t necessarily meant to watch Cordelia’s routine. He’d simply been looking for Prongs to ask him for some homework help when the music had distracted him. But once he’d caught sight of Cordelia, he couldn’t stop watching. Like a deer in headlights, he was stuck, and he had to admit, she was bloody brilliant. Her own displeasure perplexed him, but he didn’t have long to ruminate on that before he was caught. “I--” He wasn’t sure what to say. Should he comment on her dancing? He thought she was great, but it might sound creepy. “Nice music, Flint. Really good choice.”
