Magic //Peter Parker x Reader

Old Friends, Same Love

You and Peter stand in front of T'Challa's desk. He sits on the other side, eerily calm.

"Never, in my fifteen years of teaching have I seen such a display."

"Liz provoked us, she always starts these things." You growl.

"Of course she wanted to provoke you. She'd just lost. Ms. Marvel, at this point your recklessness is to be expected, but Mr. Parker? You started that fight. I cannot express the disappointment I feel right now."

The door opens and Ultron steps in the room, smiling sickly.

"What is it, Draven?" T'Challa says sourly.

"I thought you might need some additional authority in dealing with these two."

"Well you thought wrong. Now please, remove yourself from my office." T'Challa says sharply.

He turns back to you and Peter, "Now I don't care what Liz said. Your display on that pitch was shameful. Fifty points from Gryffindor, and both of you a weeks worth of detention."

"I hardly think that's an adequate punishment for this." Ultron scoffs, he holds up a parchment, "Educational Decree Twenty-Five. It gives me the High Inquisitor, the power to give punishments and privileges, and to alter those given by the staff."

Ultron turns to you and Peter, "So, I think a life-long ban from Quidditch should do the trick for both of them. And as extra punishment for Mr. Parker for initiating that little display, you will no longer be a Gryffindor prefect. I hope you children had fun."

You and Peter are stunned.

"Ban us...for life..." You stutter.

"Yes, are you deaf, Marvel?" Ultron smiles, "I'll also be taking your brooms. Have a wonderful day." He grabs both of your brooms and walks out.

You and Peter both look at T'Challa in horror.

T'Challa looks grim, "I'm sorry...my hands are tied."
_

"If you want to break up with me. Or break my arms. Just do it." Peter sighs, wiping at the dried blood under his nose.

"Peter. I don't blame you, honestly. I blame Elizabeth that— that-" you swear loudly.

"You don't want to hurt me? Bash my skull in? Kick me in the shins? I— I thought you loved Quidditch?"

"I do. I really do." You grit your teeth, "But I love you more." You smile weakly, then hug him.

"It is all my fault. I should've never pushed Liz. But what she said, what she's done to you, what Flash did to you on the pitch...when I saw him hit you...I've never felt more angry in my whole life. I just had to protect you...after all the people who've hurt you, _____... I shouldn't have let one of them be me. And what Liz said— about my family, that didn't help."

"Peter...I want you to tell me about them. Your parents. What happened. How it makes you feel. If- if that's okay." You mutter, taking his hands.

Truth be told. The thought of Liz knowing such a thing, knowing exactly how to wound Peter so deeply. It irked you to your core. You wanted to know him like that, not to hurt him like she had. But to try and heal it. Not that Peter was some project to be fixed, he didn't need someone to try and 'fix' him or take away his pain, just like you, he needed someone to stick beside him and accept everything, including all the metaphorical baggage he came with.