i solemnly swear, i am up to no good

p. pettigrew, as written by minty ; pending approval // order-aligned, selfishly-motivated, marauder, rat. // please no flashing graphics !

[wormstails]

⬐[ ask - bio / intro - home ]⬏

[wormstails]

"it's good you're working," she reassured him, "we've to keep ourselves sane somehow during these times." work was a familiarity, a routine; as long as things like that kept going the way they were supposed to keep going, order was in place. it was a privilege. "busy?" she repeated softly, thinking back to her day - uneventful. it was the first time she'd been outside today, and it was nearing evening. "not at the moment, no. i'm on a short leave, for a bit. they've given me some time to recuperate." she explained softly, not going into much detail. it wasn't helping to ease the nerves the last two years had awoken in her.

" oh, yeah, real pinnacle of sanity, i am. downright famous for it, " pete jokes, huffing a shrill sort of hiccupy laugh. " they call me good ol' sane pete, they do. "

he rummages in his pockets, then offers her a foil-wrapped strip of muggle gum - he used to always have sweets on-hand, but gum's better to occupy a worried mind. " dunno how i'd feel, being expected to get my head screwed back on with all that's been going on, y'know ? i spend half the time jumping at shadows these days. thought about a vacation, maybe a muggle one, but i'd be right worried about the lads. they're a little too gryffindor sometimes, if you catch my drift. "

[wormstails]

⬐[ rp starter for @roserunes ]⬏ ━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━

peter isn't exactly unfamiliar with st. mungo's or its staff, but blessedly, his frequent visits are never as a patient. he remembers being bored and irritated to be there as a child, stuck sitting in waiting rooms or sneaking around where he shouldn't on the long summer days his mum was working and couldn't leave him home. enid pettigrew was, unfortunately for her bored son, a responsible single mother who never left him to his own devices until he could use a wand to get himself back out of the trouble he inevitably landed in.

he's older and wiser now ... at least marginally ... and he's come to really appreciate his mum's colleagues and friends alike. beyond that, peter, who can never forget how he nearly ended up green-and-silver under the hat, knows the important of making connections ... and the red-and-gold he ended up with reminds him of the greater import of maintaining those connections.

even if he's wary of being roped into babysitting. visiting a respectable and nice ally on her off day with gifts is probably a good start.

" hello, mrs. prewett, " peter greets, hefting up a basket in both hands, covered in a hand-knitted blanket and full of goodies from home. " mum sends her best. we put together some things for you and the twins, thought you might fancy a bit of convenience in your life. do you need an extra set of hands with anything? "

[wormstails]

marlene heard her name over her shoulder and she stilled - for a second she had trouble placing the voice. familiar, yes, but -...distant. not just physically. when it got closer, however, she was instant to remembering. how could she forget? peter pettigrew; quiet, mousy, a little...strange. she couldn't place it. but great fun when he allowed himself to be. somebody she could trust, absolutely. "peter," marlene broke into a grin, sliding the hood from her head to reveal her dark, crowning curls. she stepped forward to trap the young man in a hug, before ruffling his hair and shoving him away playfully, gently, by the head. "on you, then. c'mon." she ushered with a chuckle and a motion of her chin. "where are you coming from?"

" work, " he answers, with as much cheer as he can muster - which, after a long day, isn't as much as he'd like. " mrs. cobb's shop in knockturn - it's an awful strain on the nerves, leaving this late, i tell you! " he shudders theatrically, and then breaks back into his grin, letting her lead the way to wherever she's most inclined. he's prone to trailing after others, he's sure.

" how about you? busy day, i imagine - i don't know anyone not having busy days recently! " he laughs, but it's high and a little nervous.

[wormstails]

Severus was just trying to work. As Chris brought a customer to his section, he got the jug of water and a glass with a lemon slice in it. Ensuring he had the straws as well, customers seemed to like the silly straws with the little berries on them. He saw the appeal; they were rather cute, he couldn’t deny that at all. He found himself using them for his drinks and even taking some home for himself, though he’d never admit it. Alicja would never let him hear the end of it, and he couldn’t avoid her. She was Babcia’s granddaughter after all, and worked here to help take over when her parents, Czarek and Daria, got too old to keep up. The Dabrowski family were lovely and treated him like family. It got worse once they found out he didn’t have anyone last Christmas; they had basically forcefully adopted him and carted him to their home and fed him until he was too full. The memory alone had him chuckling to himself. Getting to the table, he smiled and started the greeting, his voice calm and happy as he started. “Hello! Welcome to U Babci. If this is your first time, our best seller is our pierogi, but in my opinion, the Zapiekanki is far better. The soup of the day is Babcia’s Soured Rye Flour Soup, or in Polish, Żurek. Here is your water and menu. If you need anything and can’t find me, ask Chris for Severus, and I’ll be here as soon as I can.” He places the menu in front of Peter, the pitcher, the glass, and the straw. With those four things out of his hands, he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen from the apron. Severus was wearing a plain light blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up, his hair tied back, and it seemed to curl more than it had in school.  To say Severus looked different, especially with that smile and cheerful tone. He didn’t even acknowledge Peter’s near slip-up, or anything the other said about his sort. Using the pen, he pointed out something on the menu; the drinks there were standard, but he spoke once more. “Can I get you started with a drink? Our selection is pretty common: pops or coffee, we have tea, mainly green and Earl Grey, and then there is Miss Dabrowski’s signature lemonades. She’ll tell you the strawberry is the best, but it’s not true. Her peach mango lemonade is the best and most popular.” He tapped on the lemonades, and there was strawberry, raspberry, peach mango, old-fashioned, and Lavender.

as much as peter may loathe to admit it, snape really does look like he's doing well. being out of hogwarts is probably good for him, considering ... well, pete wouldn't have been doing great, either, with dormmates like that, or with the marauders making his life hell. in retrospect, he's not sure the lads really understood how cruel they were being.

he's not gonna point that out, though, not now. if he did, he'd have to explain he knew damn well they were being bullies, and just didn't care. it was easier and safer to stay on the right end of the wand. while he'd always been too impassive and strange to keep bullies' attention, that didn't mean it wouldn't be dreadful to endure until they got bored.

but none of that really matters now anyways, and snape's working, which is ... good on him, peter supposes. if he's being normal, they can be normal. fresh strangers, they are. couple of completely unfamiliar blokes. snape probably wouldn't poison him at his job ... probably.

" well, who am i to turn down a recommendation from the house? peach mango sounds - " and he can't resist a round-cheeked grin, " absolutely peachy, thanks. can i get that without ice? what's, uh, " he's got a good ear for languages, but polish isn't one he gets an earful of very often, " zapikenka, you said ? "

[wormstails]

⬐[ rp starter for @that-awful-boy ]⬏ ━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━

for all peter really enjoys working in knockturn, and his little flat set firmly in wizarding london ... it's not that he's sick of magic, per se, but good heavens, wizards can be draining. so caught up in their - their everything ! he doesn't know how they go without getting sick of each other, but maybe that's why there's all this nonsense with dark wizards and war brewing on the horizon.

so he reserves his days off for this. days alone spent firmly in the muggle world, catching up on the media he may miss, or visiting shops or new places to eat that he can take his mum to later. ( or moony, poor bloke's looking shabbier than ever these days. )

this little restaurant has been on his list for a while, and he's eager to finally get the chance to try it out. he's let his eyes acclimate from the light outside as he meanders in, and barely sat down when he catches the sight of a familiar face approaching.

" you're kidding me, " peter drawls as severus fucking snape of all people, looking like a million galleons now that he's out of those dank dungeons, strolls over to his table. " and here i was, thinking i was taking a day away from your sort. fancy seeing you here, sni - ... snape . "

[wormstails]

⬐[ rp starter for @marlxnx ]⬏ ━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━

" hey, marlie! "

peter had never been especially close with anyone but his mates, but one can hardly spend seven years in such close proximity without ending up a bit friendly, and marlene has always been a fun sort. beyond that, though, she's the ambitious sort, the type who jumped feet-first into the sort of dangerous work that gives pete shivers to think about. toe-to-tip gryffindor, this one. great fun, but someone he regards with almost-pity for doing all that dangerous codswallop.

well, better her than him. just coming off his shift, still bundled in his work coat, he skips a few steps to catch up to the woman on the street, which leaves his cheeks pink and a big smile plastered on his face. " it's been ages! well, y'know. " it hasn't been ages at all, really. a house isn't the only thing he and mckinnon have in common. " ages since we got to catch up and whatnot. can i get you a drink, or are you in a rush? " his words come out all in an excited jumble, nearly tripping over themselves with his eager haste.