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CHAPTER FORTY SIX
contentment and containment
THE AIR WAS crisp and biting as Peter ran down the cobblestones of the castle below him. His breathing was fast, yet he hadn't been going far. His hands shook and he had a desperate urge to get to the kitchens. He knew what would be waiting for him there, the same things that were always there. A warmth, despite outside heat or cold, the hum of work happening all around him and a plate of cookies that would always appear before him within minutes of his arrival. But he'd promised his father that he'd try to curb such urges and put them into more 'productive' things, as his father put it. Things that made him live up to the courage of the house that he'd been placed in. His feet still carried him there, clipping the shoulders of students as his palms started to sweat. He never knew that James would have it in him to break one of Peter's quidditch figurines along with all of his own. He never knew that James's voice could bellow with such ferocity and malice as he screeched for Peter to "get out!" He never knew that James, who had eyes that danced with butterflies, could hold the fiery, hateful pits of hell within them. That those eyes could ever be directed at Peter.
He found the pear that he'd become so fond of and tickled it, like always. His heart and eyes were urging themselves towards the familiar entrance to the kitchens. He was immediately hit with warmth as he descended the stairs and strained himself to go faster without tripping. But, he stopped at the end of the stairs. The barrels that had become familiar in the past few months beckoned to him, their warmth more eternal than the fires that burned in the kitchens. Peter Pettigrew had come to believe that dragons could ravage all of Hogwarts, leaving it to mere wooden posts, and the Hufflepuff common room would still stand strong. That their fire would always burn more warmly. Despite it, he continued on. His heart begged him forward. Aisling would wait. She had work to do anyway, she'd been talking about it for days. He tore his eyes away and burst into the kitchen with anxious fervor. Yet, his arms were laden with goosebumps once he entered. The smell was the same, the House Elves hummed their jolly tunes and he was sure that there would be a plate of cookies soon enough. But, a ravaged sound from the ground in one of the center kitchen spaces took his attention.
Peter drew his wand as he edged forward. His hands shook, but his grip was strong as he made his way around the counter. He didn't know if he saw the slightly curly brown hair or the yellow robes first, but the two of them together made him stuff his wand back into his robes. Her knees were pulled to her chest and her forehead was laid over them, her hair sprawling everywhere. He could hear small sniffles as he approached carefully.
The silence felt too light to break as he gently slid down next to her, sprawling his legs out in front of him. Slowly, carefully, he laid a hand on her shoulder, making her jump up.
