Rainy Days Who: Peter and Terry again When: Sunday evening Where: Somewhere in the village > Terry's house Status: Completed in GDocs (again) Rating: SFW, dark themes, cuddling :)
Note: Plot specified a 12 hour period for the rain, I've chosen 8am-8pm
When Peter woke up that morning, intending to spend his Sunday doing accounts and things at the shop to keep his mind off the complete disaster that had become his life, he had not been expecting to be doused with rainwater almost as soon as he sat up in bed. The damn cloud had appeared out of nowhere, and showered him for a good five minutes before drying up with a little burping noise while he tried in vain to make it go away. He’d tried all the spells he could think of, even a couple curses - though he was careful to stay within non-Dark territory - and nothing would shift it.
He knew he couldn’t blame the wand, either, it had been working fine. Even better than the old one, although he wasn’t sure if that was the wand or he just seemed to get magic better now. He thought dispiritedly that it was a shame it was too late to re-sit his NEWT Charms practical.
He went downstairs. It followed him, hovering over his head and giving him a very uncomfortable feeling whenever he moved and he saw it repeat the motion out of the corners of his eyes. It started raining again once he’d made his breakfast, and he had to quickly lean over his eggs - made much more nicely with magic, he had to admit - to stop them getting sodden before he could eat them. Of course that meant that it rained on his head and down the back of his neck, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it.
About eleven hours later and he had really had enough. The thing had followed him around all day, raining in little bouts, apparently so that he would never have enough time to get dry, although the water never seemed to stick for very long to the floor or anything else it touched. It dried up everywhere except on him. In the end he’d shut himself up in the office at the empty shop, tried to take a nap and woken up coughing and spluttering when it started to drizzle into his slightly-open mouth.
People offered to come spend time with him. He was as polite as possible about wanting to be left alone. He just couldn’t face the idea of either having to pretend that everything was fine (while being rained on by some sadistic sentient weather) or letting his feelings get out of control. He just knew that if he spoke to Mac he would fall apart again. And he couldn’t be around Dorcas; not until she knew. It was too much like lying to her face. He knew he should be the one to tell her, but he couldn’t bear going through all that twice in one week. Terry had been bad enough.
He left the shop just before eight having done very little work since all the paperwork kept getting wet, and started to slump squelchily towards home. He really could not catch a break. He wanted to ask what else could possibly go wrong, but surely that would be seriously tempting fate.
He was half-way back to the house when the little cloud bounced happily above his head and he groaned as it started to pour happily again. Noticing an overhang on a nearby building, he hurried over to it and tried to put it between himself and the cloud. It rained dejectedly onto the overhang for a few seconds before giving up with a sad little sigh, turning a little lighter grey in the dusky evening light and floating from side to side as though trying to decide what it should do.
“Ha!” Peter said triumphantly. “That’ll show you, you think you’re so cl - aaaargh!” He dashed out from under the building, managing to get a few steps ahead of the cloud as it tried to figure out how to get out from under the overhang again. He spluttered and coughed and tried to shake the small torrent of water out of his hair.
----
Terry Boot had purposefully only shopped at the grocery store when he was sure the other man wasn’t working. Which was hard, and had mostly included him figuring out when other people were working there. To be honest, he’d been miserable since that day Sirius had exposed Peter so fully. First he’d been upset and angry with Peter, and then he’d talked to Draco and had ended up upset at himself for allowing his opinion of Peter to be spoiled by another man’s views. He’d been confused, and had finally settled on the idea that they had both been in the wrong. Peter’s history would have gone easier if he’d been upfront from the first and Terry should have been willing to listen. But even in a perfect world, wouldn’t he have run even faster?
Walking down the street, Terry had been about to hit up Michael’s to see if he could get some food for dinner that night. Rosie was with her child care situation, and he was ready to have a bit of time to himself. But then he saw a little flurry that was following someone around, and it was funny for about a second before he realized who it was. Terry’s mind went to run mode right away, but his gut said something different. The same gut that had known Peter was a good man the first time they met.
A jacket appeared over Peter’s head, shielding him from the rain as Terry stood next to him, his arms up and supporting his coat so that it acted like a small tent for them. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t comment. He just stood there.
---
It took Peter a second to realise what was happening, and he had to look up and around a couple times to figure out that someone was sheltering him from the cloud's vicious revenge. Then he looked straight up into Terry's face and felt his heart sink straight to the bottom of his stomach.
This was the last face he had expected to see.
"What are you doing?" he asked in a small voice after a moment's stunned silence. He could hear the rain still pattering on above them.
---
“I’m… keeping you dry,” he said, unable to think about anything but how much he wanted to both yell and apologize to Peter all the same time.
Terry closed his mouth after that, just watching Peter and feeling the hairs on his neck and arms rising. He wanted to talk to him, to kiss him, to tell him everything he’d thought and wondered about during the last few days. Instead he just slouched a bit more, his eyes still bright and softer. Less angry than the last time.
“Poor weather you’re having,” he said, the joke sounding rather horrible as he grimaced at that. “Sorry.” And then that word, that first word he needed to say began to slip out again. “I’m sorry, Peter. I’m- I’m so sorry. I’m just- I want to say- it’s hard to find the right- I’m sorry.”
---
Peter's eyes widened if it was possible, even further, and his mouth dropped open. "B-but..." He stammered, even as the very faintest glimmer of hope began to show in the pit of misery that had been his mind for two weeks, "but why? You were right. You don't have anything to be sorry for."
---
“No, I do. I pushed you away, I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself and I didn’t trust myself when I felt that you’re a good guy. A good man,” Terry said, trying to find the right words, but not being able to find any that would let me show just how sorry he was, just how busy he was, or just how unhappy he was feeling as if he was getting yanked around by his own flip flopping emotions. So he did something he knew they could do well, something that had gotten them good results before.
Still holding the jacket up, he leaned down and kissed Peter softly, a sense of relief running through him before he pulled back a little bit, nose against Peter’s cheek.
“I’m not expecting anything from you. But if you wanted- if you wanted this. Me. We need to talk, you and me and figure this out. Because I think we could. If you wanted.”
---
Peter had certainly not expected that kiss. Just as before he was helpless to resist it, and he didn't pull away, but afterwards he could do little else than stare at Terry in utter bewilderment. This was more than he could have ever expected, all he'd wanted more than anything else since that day, but it wasn't right. How could it be?
"I don't understand," he said, low. He was shaking, but he didn't know if it was chill from the rain that had drenched him or something else. "You heard Sirius. He wasn't lying. I did all those things. I'm not a good guy, Terry, I'm a bad guy - I'm the bad guy. You're the good guy. You're too good for me. You're way too good for me."
---
“No, I’m not too good,” Terry said, almost laughing at the idea of being better than someone, or too good. He tried to find his words again, feeling as if his tongue were being swallowed as he finally took a deep breath and decided to come out with everything. “I felt that you were a good man when we met, and the more time we spent together the more I liked you. The more I wanted you, and I mean, wanted you in every sense. You are Peter Pettigrew, and I hate… I really hate what you did. It makes me feel sick that you did that because of how much I like you. But I think… I think you’re not that person anymore.”
“Please, tell me that you’ve changed and you’re a better man than that. Peter, tell me that and I’m yours. All my own secrets. I’ve got them, trust me. I regularly did shit I shouldn’t back home. After you left, I had to ask my friend to make sure I didn’t drink. I’m not the great guy. I’m just. A guy. I’m just Terry.”
---
At Terry’s words, Peter felt a rush of hope go through him that he hardly dared to feel. At the same time, he knew he couldn’t face another two weeks like the last two. He’d just been coming to terms with losing Terry once. If he had to do it all over again he didn’t know if he could handle it. And it would be worse a second time. He still thought Terry might not properly understand the seriousness of what he was getting into. A drinking problem was one thing...
I bet you’ve never killed anyone.
“I’m trying to be better,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I… I hate who I was, too. I can’t believe I ever let it get that bad, that I would…” he choked a little on his own words but he powered through it. “That I would do those things to my friends, that I could hurt innocent people.. when I think about it I feel like… like I don’t deserve to be alive. I definitely don’t deserve to be walking around free. I don’t deserve…” he met Terry’s eyes, shining in the gathering dark under the shelter of his coat. I don’t deserve you. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, because he wanted it, wanted it more than anything he could ever remember wanting, and if he threw away his one chance now he didn’t know how he would live with himself.
“I’m not like that anymore,” he said finally, throwing all caution to the winds. “I’m not. I don’t ever want to be, again.”
---
“Okay. Then we need to have a really long talk about everything, both of us we, we can just put our cards on the table,” he said, breathing in and finding that he was incapable of not smiling in that moment. Because Peter didn’t hate him, and sure they had so much things to work on, but he also was learning that putting himself into a state of being alone and drunk wasn’t what he wanted anymore. He had Rosie, the most important part of his life, and now he had Peter. Or rather, Peter had him.
He leaned back down, kissing Peter again with more vigor this time. He wanted to touch him badly enough to drop the coat, earning some rain of his own as he wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling him as close as he could get them as the water dripped down from his hair to his neck and off his nose.
Terry didn’t know if this was love, or if it was just a burst of affection between two lost souls. But in that moment, he was happy and ready to drag Peter home for that very long and complicated conversation.
---
Peter didn’t care about the rain. He was already completely wet already anyway, if he’d even been paying attention to it anymore. He leant into Terry’s kiss with a soft sound of mingled joy and relief, and when they broke apart threw his arms around the other man’s neck and buried his face in his shoulder. He could not have imagined how good it felt to be given a second chance, when everything had been so hopeless until just minutes ago.
“Thank you,” he said, the sheer level of emotion in his voice somewhat muffled by Terry’s shirt which was getting soaked. “Thank you thank you thank you.”
---
It was going to be a long road, Terry still needed to find a way to attach Peter’s past crimes to the man who was before him today, because acting like they didn’t happen wasn’t an option for him. He didn’t care if he got rained on, not if it meant holding Peter and kissing him, and hearing that they were going to make this work. He hadn’t wanted Peter when he first met, he hadn’t even wanted him during that first kiss. It had been somewhere between kissing him back at his house and seeing him help him with the move that he’d felt that same pull that had once been what he felt for his ex.
Maybe it was the warning signs of love. He didn’t know.
All he knew was that he was wrapping his arms around Peter and kissing the top of his head with his eyes closed as they got soaked in their own private rainstorm.
“Does this rain on you inside?” he asked. He knew that funny things were happening in the village, but he did hope that this one wouldn’t be permanent.
---
Peter choked out half a laugh of pure relief, half a sigh of exasperation. “Yes,” he said, standing back a little - though still in the circle of Terry’s arms - as he tried to get a hold of himself and running a still-shaking hand through his hair. “It really sticks, too. I’d be pretty impressed with the magic if it hadn’t been following me around for nearly twelve hours.” He’d thought he’d seen pretty much everything in the land of magical tricks and pranks, but this was really something else. “I tried everything I could think of, and i know some pretty strong unsticking spells.” He remembered James saying something about it being important to know how to undo a trick before you did it, just in case.
In another place, another time, he might have suspected either James or Sirius to be behind this particular annoyance, but not here and now. He didn’t believe James had forgiven him enough to target him with something he would find funny, and if it was Sirius it would have been something much more painful, he was sure. Acid rain, probably.
---
“We’ll figure it out,” Terry said, looking up at the little gray cloud that seemed almost pleased to have two people under it now. But maybe that was just Terry. “Besides, I don’t mind having a little rain,” he offered, a silly and rather goofy grin on his face as he lifted one of his hand to touch Peter’s cheek and stroke him with his thumb. The pain and anxiety that had sat in his heart and on his shoulders since leaving Peter at the old house was leaving him bit by bit, and there was a softness to Terry in that moment that should have terrified him. He didn’t like opening up like this, usually.
Rosie got his sweetness, Peter didn’t. Not a man like this, right? And yet, he wanted to hand everyone over to Peter and see the man enjoy his life. He wanted to kiss Peter and wake up and find the other man hadn’t left. But he still needed to be a dad, and that meant that he also needed to keep working with Peter to make sure that if he introduced Rosie to Peter, he was introducing someone who not only was a good person, but who wouldn’t confuse her by being in her life one moment and then out the next.
“Why don’t we go somewhere more private with our little raincloud?” he suggested, thinking they could find somewhere to cozy up until they figured out how to make the rain stop. “Rosie’s at care still, I was supposed to work tonight but my shift got covered.”
---
Terry didn't mind getting rained on for him. All he had to do was take one step back and he'd be in the dry, but he was just standing there getting soaked. For some reason this was incredible to Peter. He nodded, feeling a little shiver go through him that had nothing to do with wet or cold - or magic, this time.
"Do the coat trick again?" he suggested, lifting his hand to wipe his face. The rain had gotten very heavy to the point where it was hard to see through it.
Terry lifted the coat over them again and they half-walked, half-jogged down the street, panting and laughing as they tried to run away from the cloud. Peter didn't have the heart or the inclination to point out that he'd been trying to shake it all day without any luck. As soon as they reached Terry's new house though, the clock on the tower struck eight in the distance, and the rain eased. They lowered their shelter just in time to see the cloud curl up on itself and vanish, as in the distance the sun finally went down.
"Oh good," Peter sighed with relief. He looked up at Terry and couldn't help smiling with amusement. "You're drenched," he observed unnecessarily. "I'm sorry." It was hard to sound sorry for real though, especially when the man's shirt was stuck to his skin all over.
---
“I’m not sorry,” Terry said, dropping his wet jacket to the side before letting it drape over a chair he’d set up in the front. He shivered and hugged Peter to himself again, kissing him happily now that the rain was no longer pouring down on them. “Do you want to take a shower and change into some dry clothes?” he asked, thinking Peter might want to feel clean and dry now that the rain was gone. Terry knew that he wanted to do that. He wanted to curl up with Peter and talk with him, figure this out. His anxiety was less, but not gone: he needed Peter to tell him what he was doing with him. What they were doing.
He opened the door to the house after untangling himself from Peter, taking his shoes off to avoid bringing in mud and leaves from their run together. The house was clean of dirt and germs, but the floor had toys all over and the table had drawings that he’d done with Rosie, as well as some macaroni art that he’d hung on the fridge.
It wasn’t a house, really- Terry and Rosie had made it a home.
---
"Please," Peter said emphatically. "Have you ever walked around for an entire day soaked to the skin? It's not fun." He was shivering a bit now and his teeth had started chattering, but he didn't care, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He knew it wasn't settled yet, that they still had a ways to go. He would have to earn Terry's trust now. But he still couldn't help the feeling that a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
He followed Terry's lead in taking off his shoes. His socks squelched uncomfortably so he peeled those off as well, wringing them out into the garden before tucking them in his jacket pocket. Of course that was wet too, but so was everything. He stepped barefoot into the house and closed the door behind him. He looked a little anxiously at the toys everywhere, suddenly remembering what Terry had said about not wanting Peter anywhere near his daughter.
--
Terry took Peter’s hand, not noticing his anxiety at that moment, and showed him the bathroom upstairs. It was blessedly free of anything too child friendly, other than a secondary seat for Rosie to use and a toothbrush that was too small for Terry. He went into his own room to grab Peter some soft pajama pants and a shirt, as well as a towel to dry off with. They could have just dried off Peter’s clothing magically, but he still tended to think about things in a muggle sense. If he and Peter had been a couple for a while, he might have stayed and offered to ‘help’ Peter. Instead he left and went into his bedroom so he could strip and put on his own dry jeans and a shirt, drying his hair and skin with his wand, and going back downstairs. He took a few toys off of the floor, and put a kettle of tea on before going into the living room to get a fire going. It seemed like a good way to get warm, but he did also pull out some whiskey just in case that was what Peter really needed after being rained on all day.
---
Peter did take a shower in the end. He hesitated over it, but decided he needed the extra time to calm down properly.
He made the water hot. Really hot. It felt wonderful. It felt strange to shower and dress in someone else's house, in someone else's clothes. It reminded him of when he'd stayed at his friends' houses on occasion during the summer holidays. It didn't happen very often, or for very long, because his mother was worried about 'influences'. Who she thought was influencing him during the school year, Peter had no idea.
Having been brought up in a Wizarding house (whether he was in fact a Pureblood was a subject of contention he had never cared to look into) he did dry his own things as soon as he got out of the shower. The new wand did it perfectly. He considered his options for a minute or two while he dried his hair with a towel, but in the end he chose to put on Terry's things. His did put his own underwear on underneath, though.
He hung his clothes as small as possible on the corner of the towel rail, and after a quick internal pep talk while staring at himself in the mirror, padded downstairs on bare feet in the soft, loose pants and t-shirt that smelled like Terry. It left his arms bare, of course. But he didn't feel the need to hide anymore. At least not from the elbows down.
He found Terry stoking the fire in the living room. "I feel like a kid at a sleepover," he said shyly as he came in.
---
Terry was kneeling there, working on the flames when Peter spoke to him. He smiled and turned his head to look at the other man, grinning like a loon before laughing a little at the comment. “Yeah, but you’re definitely not a kid,” Terry pointed out, standing up and bringing the plate of tea and whiskey to the coffee table so they could sit on either side and talk things through.
“We should talk. And if I sit next to you, I’m just going to end up snogging you until I’m senseless,” he said bluntly, smiling before taking a cup and pouring himself tea with just a little milk. “I need to know about why you joined them. And why you’re not with them anymore. But I don’t expect you to hand me everything on a plate and not get anything back. I’ll tell you a bit about my own… well, not sins. My own damages. And you can ask me questions. You always can. Do you want to go first, or do you want me to go first?” he asked.
---
Peter sat awkwardly on the edge of his chair and poured himself tea, if only so his hands would have something to do.
Why he joined them? If only it was a simple question with a simple answer. He thought he understood it now but it was only in a twisted, blurred, abstract way that he didn't know whether he could explain. "I don't mind," he said softly, wanting to get it over with even if he had no idea where it start. "What... how much do you know already?"
He hadn't read any history books, present, future or otherwise. Remus thought he should, but the idea scared him. He didn't want to know about any of the awful things his future self had done.
---
“I know what you did starting with the duel with Sirius Black and then the second war, so more than you’ve actually lived. It’s the start of it all and the time you’ve spent here that I don’t know,” Terry said, a little thankful that Peter was going first, allowing him to listen and just absorb rather than laying his heart out there right away. He began to sip his tea, feeling the warmth seep into his bones. “I don’t know your motivation or if you’re a purist. I assume… not anymore?”
---
Once his tea was poured, Peter pulled his feet up into the large chair, sitting cross legged so they would stay warm under him, letting the heat of the fire finish drying his hair. He nursed his cup with his one hand, holding it carefully by the rim and balancing it on his knee so he wouldn’t burn himself, but not drinking it, his other arm tucked carefully into his lap. “Not ever,” he murmured, unable to stop himself looking down at the red line that traced the skull on his forearm. “Not really. I never had anything against Muggleborns… it wasn’t about that.”
He took a deep breath. “It was a couple years after we left school. I was… not in a good place. I was working this awful job at St Mungo’s. The war was just getting bad. We all - my friends, and me - we joined The Order of the Phoenix, this group that Dumbledore started to fight You-Know-Who. I didn’t really want to, it all seemed too big and important for me, but… well, we always did things together. Me, James, Remus and Sirius. And Lily too, by then. James’ girl. The two of them actually fought him personally, a few times. I never did.” He shivered. “No one wanted me there, getting in the way. They all knew I was hopeless at fighting. I went to the meetings and didn’t say much. No one ever asked my opinion. No one had any idea what I was doing there. I still have no idea how James convinced Dumbledore to let me join.
“Anyway, I.. was lonely a lot, I guess. James and Lily were always together. Remus had lots of secret missions he couldn’t talk about. Sirius… was Sirius, mostly. We still saw each other, but it was mostly at meetings and when it wasn’t we just talked about the war and what they were going to do to stop it. I just didn’t know where I fit into all of it. I started going to the Leaky Cauldron a lot after work and drinking by myself, when one of the others couldn’t come, which was most of the time. Especially after James and Lily got married.” He felt a familiar weight settle in his stomach as he spoke, remembering how miserable he’d been on that day.
“I hated it,” he muttered, barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “I was angry - angry at him for breaking us all up, angry at her for being with him…” he swallowed. “I didn’t know why, though. I was just confused and angry all the time. And hungover, a lot. I’d come to those meetings half falling down and no one said anything. They didn’t notice - or they thought I was just… being me.” He shrugged miserably. “I didn’t even want to drink. It wasn’t like an addiction. It was just something to do. There were other people there, so I didn’t have to be really alone, or think about how alone I really was. And then… then I started making new friends.”
He sipped his tea, just a little. It was hot, but it did little to thaw the tight cold knot that was building in his chest. “These guys started chatting to me. Older guys mostly, sometimes a couple girls. No one as obvious as the Lestranges, or the Malfoys - that would have tipped me right off. But I knew a couple of them from school. Most of them were Slytherins but there were some Ravenclaws as well, and they were friendly. They bought me drinks and we played dice and cards and talked about old times. They kept asking me where my friends were - the four of us were sort of an institution by our third year - and all I could say was that they were busy. Then they’d make little comments, like… oh, like, “they can’t really be your friends if they don’t have time for you,” that sort of thing. I knew it wasn’t true. But when they said it it seemed true. And at least someone was noticing how miserable I was; someone wanted me around. That’s what it felt like anyway. So I kept going back there, and I drank less and talked more, and then I started going to their houses, and they’d be doing these spells I hadn’t heard of before, showing each other, like a sort of book club, for magic. Only I didn’t know anything we hadn’t learned at Hogwarts, really, so they had to show me how.”
He stared down at his cup for a minute before putting it down, mostly untouched.
“The first time it felt...amazing,” he said, finally. “If you’ve never done Dark Magic, you can’t imagine it. I’d never felt… powerful, before, but this was… it was like suddenly I could do anything. Eventually I realised, of course, when we started getting into serious curses, but I didn’t care by then. I just wanted more of it. I was good. at it. People were impressed, or at least they said they were. It was the first time I’d really been good at anything. But I was so deep in it I barely knew myself. I never told them about the Order, but they talked about politics a lot. About how fighting You-Know-Who was pointless, that we should let the inevitable take its course, that much less people would die, that there would be positive change, and no more war. They did talk about Muggleborns and how they were less than us and we should be ruling them, but… but I… I didn’t… “ he fumbled awkwardly for the right words. “I only knew a few Muggleborns, and that’s not how I thought of them. They were just witches and wizards. I never kept track of anyone’s parentage. I just… it seemed like Muggles and Muggleborns were just these faceless people I’d never met. And no one ever suggested I had to hurt anyone personally. We were just talking. They said the Ministry was too harsh about Dark Magic, that even Dumbledore had used Dark Magic once or twice.
“I was nineteen!” he exclaimed, thumping the arm of the chair with his fist. “What did I know? By the time I knew what was happening it was too late. And it took almost a year. That’s what Sirius and the others… what they don’t understand… they think I just showed up on The Dark Lord’s doorstep one day and asked to join up. But it wasn’t like that. I met more and more of them, getting higher up. They must have been reporting on me the entire time. On my progress,” he spat angrily. “By the time I met him, he’d already killed people I knew, Order people. But I gave him everything anyway and I let him Mark me because… because he said I could be useful, that I was special, that I was talented… everything I’d always wanted to hear from James and the others, all I’d ever wanted to be to the Order but couldn’t be…” He pulled his knees to his chest and shivered, remembering the pain of the brand as it was seared magically into his skin, but more than that, the sudden sense of a bond between himself and his new Master that was unbreakable, that would always be with him, that marked him as a servant of the man for life. He remembered being half terrified but also pleased, pleased that he was now a part of something where he could make a difference. All those words had been a joke, of course. Special? Talented? They must have all been laughing at him behind their masks.
---
Terry listened quietly to Peter’s words, reaching across the table and putting a hand on Peter’s knee so that he would feel him as they talked together. “Peter, I don’t like that all that happened. But I understand it. And know, know this fully please, that you are special to me. You have been since you let me have some pears, and you always will be. You’re… you’re Peter. You’re special, I don’t care if no one else has been able to seen it yet,” Terry said, feeling that he understood. He had what he needed to feel confident in Peter Pettigrew, as odd as that sounded.
He pulled his hand back from Peter’s knee, settling back into his seat before going on. “Were you- are you - in love with your friend James?” he asked, only a little nervous. After all, he didn’t think Peter was the sort to snog a guy while another man was on his mind. But he couldn’t help it, he had to crack a joke. “Cause, I mean, I’ll go fisticuffs if I have to with this guy to win you,” he said, smiling and rubbing his chin for a moment.
---
Peter flinched. He knew deep down, of course, had known since school, but hearing the actual words was still hard. Especially after knowing everything that had happened. “I think I was,” he said, very low, unable to meet Terry’s eyes. As good and as warm as it felt to hear Terry say he was special, the knowledge of what he himself was capable of when his feelings for someone were twisted and used against him was terrible to think about. “I didn’t know what it was, I just… I hated seeing him with Lily, even though I knew I should have been happy for him, like everyone else. And at school, I always… watched him. He liked it, you know… he just thought I thought he was cool.” He swallowed hard and looked up at Terry for the first time in what felt like a long time. “Please don’t tell him.”
---
“I won’t, it’s not my place, and you certainly owe no explanation to him unless you think you do,” Terry said, waving a hand to show how he didn’t plan on bursting Peter’s bubble that way or ruin any healing he’d done with James. He had more questions for Peter, but he’d asked so much of him, and he knew from the way that the man had spoken about his past that it was something shameful to him. Something he regretted.
“Have you- what have you done here? To get better?” he asked, wanting to know that Peter was still moving forward. He knew that he couldn’t expect him to have gone door to door or even tried to change time, to arrive before he did those things and then fixed it all. Because that was impossible.
---
Peter thought about it for a minute before answering. “Nothing on purpose,” he said eventually. “I wasn’t capable of anything for a while when I first got here. I was still doing Dark Magic. But I had a lot of time to think about everything that happened. Mostly because they made me a fisherman and I spent about seven hours a day sitting on a boat by myself doing nothing,” he added, with a weak smile. “Then we all lost our magic for a while, and it was like my head sort of cleared and I could think properly, like I was almost myself again.” He bit his lip for a moment before continuing. “Only because we lost our magic, Remus…” he glanced up at Terry to make sure. “You know about Remus, right? His um… furry problem?” At Terry’s nod he continued. “Well, he couldn’t take the potion that’s supposed to keep him calm on the full moon, and he attacked everyone. James was going to try and take him on, without magic - the idiot.” He smiled again, fondly this time, despite the sheer terror associated with the memory. “I helped him. I cut my arm and made a blood trail to distract Moony - Remus, only then he went in the woods and he attacked this girl - Lea, from your time, I guess.
“I ended up having to carry her about eight miles to the hospital. Then we sort of became friends, and… well she was sort of in a similar situation at one point, I guess, not as bad as me, but she hurt people too, and… well, what she said made a lot of sense.” He sighed. “She did tell me about some of the future stuff. It was awful. I couldn’t believe I’d got myself into that. And it made me want to change, only I didn’t know how. I just sort of kept doing the same thing. It felt like I was stuck in this loop and I didn’t know… didn’t know how to get out of it…”
He hesitated. The next part was going to be hard. “Then he… came here,” he said, low. “The Dark Lord. He came here with nearly his whole army, from… from… what do you call it? The Battle of Hogwarts?”
---
“Yeah, the Battle of Hogwarts. I fought in it, I was in Dumbledore’s Army, it was a sort of guerrilla rebellion within the castle when he came back to life,” Terry said, tempted to show Peter his own tattoo, but that would have involved pushing his jeans down to show him the hip ink he’d gotten. “What did you do when Voldemort was here?” he said, having that boldness that only those who knew he was really dead could have with saying his name. Besides, Terry as a muggleborn, that inbred fear of the name hadn’t been instilled in him.
“Did you do anything with him… did you reject him?” he asked hopeful that Peter had, in fact, stated that this was no longer who he was and that he wasn’t going to be around that monster or work for him. He took another long sip of his tea before putting the empty mug down, still focused wholly on Peter.
--
Peter flinched a little at the name, unable to help himself. Even the man’s followers hadn’t dared to say the name, Peter least of all.
“I… I didn’t want to go to him,” he said, staring at his knees. He wished he could say anything else than the truth, and even though Remus had said he’d done the right thing, it didn’t feel like the right thing. The right thing would have been to stay out of it from the start. “I didn’t, but… the Mark was burning… it’s not just the pain, that’s bad, but it’s the summoning spell that’s built in. It’s… it’s like being dragged, only in your mind. So… so I went, but… I told myself I was only going to look, to see what was happening, if it was really him, and then I could come back.”
He shook his head, tensing up all over at the memory, at that awful voice calling his name as though he was standing there in plain sight, when there was no way he could have been seen. At that touch rooting through his head, sensing all his doubts, seeing all his fears. “He caught me, though. I was sure he’d send me to spy on everyone, like before. And the worst thing was, I wasn’t sure I could… that I could not do it.” He shivered and shrank in on himself again; he knew this wasn’t what Terry wanted to hear, but he was through with lying. “But he said he wanted me to stand beside him in the fighting. I think he thought it would be fitting if he got one of my friends to kill me for him.
“I just stood there. I was… I couldn’t fight anyone, I didn’t want to hurt them even if I could. I couldn’t get away, I was practically tied to him. But then I saw someone trying to attack Mac - Mary, she’s my friend, she’s been my friend even though she knows what I did - and I didn’t even think, I yelled and knocked the guy’s arm away. And then, and then…” he cradled his maimed arm against his chest, sick with the memory, “The D-Dark Lord… he grabbed my arm and he said, he said, “You don’t deserve this, Wormtail,”, and then. my hand was…” he twitched and shuddered, unable to finish.
---
Sitting on the chair away from Peter wasn’t an option anymore. He moved over to Peter, pulled him close, and kissed the side of his face. He held him close, a hand going up into the slightly damp hair. And there it was: his anxiety about Peter was gone. He knew, he knew fully and totally that he trusted his man now to be a good man. Because he was one, and he’d been faced with a hard decision and he’d made it through all the way. He didn’t touch Peter’s stump, he just kept a tight hold of him, kissing his face and trying to show Peter his support.
“Okay. I’m yours. If you want me, because uh, I’ve got a few things too. Not Death Eater things, but a few. Do you want to take a break first, or are we just… barreling forward?” he asked, feeling a nervous knot form over his own sins. Because he hadn’t ever talked to anyone about his problems, just his mental healer, and he’d admitted the drinking to Sally. But it was just… opening up more. If Peter decided Terry was too much baggage, that would crush him.
---
Peter was glad now that he’d had a breakdown in Professor McGonagall’s office. If he hadn’t, he was certain it would be happening now. There were tears in his eyes but he felt safe with Terry’s arms around him, He no longer felt as though he was spinning around in his own head without nothing solid to cling on to. He felt drained, but in a good way, like poison had been sucked out of a wound. He still didn’t think what he had done for Mac was enough to atone for anything he’d done before, but it seemed to be enough for Terry, so that was okay.
He burrowed into Terry’s side, letting the feeling of safety sink in. “Only if you want to,” he said, seriously. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I trust you.” He didn’t know why this was so, it just was. A few months ago he had been incapable of anything even resembling trust, but he trusted Terry instinctively. Terry might say he had demons; but who didn’t, in the end? At this point Peter would have forgiven anything, including murder. It wasn’t as though Terry hadn’t already done it for him.
---
“No, you deserve full explanations, and honestly… I need someone who wants to be my partner or have me audition to be theirs to know it,” he said, knowing that the right thing to do was to admit his suicide attempt. To come clean with it all, all of it. He’d gotten better at talking about it, he’d been honest and open minded and loud with his mental healer. And now he needed to do that with Peter, and that was so much harder than a stranger he was paying.
“Um. My mom didn’t plan to have me. She met a guy, they had sex, I was the mistake that showed up nine months later and it just… it ruined her life. So when I was in… I think third year? I went to stay with my friend Anthony Goldstein for the summer and my mom just never came to pick me up. So I lived with Anthony and a lot of other families during school, and the Goldsteins pretended to be my family so I could go back to school when they wouldn’t let muggleborns back.”
“Which is just sort of… part one,” he said, still going on, not really allowing for more comments. “When I got out of school, I met a guy and I fell just... head over heels. We were in our mid twenties, we were on the top of the world, and he convinced me to go find my Mom and maybe figure out why she left me, to sort of just… close that door. So I went back to Liverpool and I found her, she was on the same block just in a nicer house instead of a flat. I knocked on the door, and she opened up, and… she’d gotten married and a job and then had new kids and she had this nice life with no wizard kid who had been parasitic on her life.”
“I kinda lost it. I got incredibly depressed, I broke up with my boyfriend over it, and then I just. I wallowed. I got drunk a lot, I drank too much. I finally went back to a mental healer and I got better. I’m okay now. But sometimes I still drink too much. And sometimes I get sad. And Rosie… I can’t fuck up. I’m her dad now. She’s mine. And that terrifies me the same way you do.”
---
Peter listened quietly, glad that he’d chosen to go first. He wouldn’t have been able to pay enough attention to hear the changes in Terry’s voice, sense his true anger and sadness when he talked about his mother. There was no love lost between him and his own mother - he still didn’t have it within himself to forgive her for his terrible upbringing - but at least she had never replaced him. And he could certainly relate to drinking too much.
He shifted a little at Terry’s last admission so that he could look up at him. “I terrify you?” he repeated, anxiously. He hadn’t said it in a ‘I'm terrified you’ll murder me in my sleep’ sort of way, but still…
---
“Yes. Because I think you’re going to make me work hard at being a better person, and it’s so much easier to keep being a barely decent one,” Terry explained, looking at the other man and leaning back a little with his arms still around Peter, but more loosely. “It’s… you open yourself up to another human being and you learn that you want to be the person they’ve mistaken you to be and you never fully are, but you get close and if you’re lucky they like you for who you are, so you just become a better version ideally.”
He knew that he should admit to his suicide attempt. He knew it, but he wasn’t ready. He’d say it later, he promised himself. But for right then, they were together and it was nice and easy and beautiful in it’s own way. “So, uh. I guess the somehow more casual conversation of what you want right now. With me, I mean.”
---
Peter thought that what Terry was saying was much more applicable to himself than Terry. Terry had made him a better person already. But what did he want now? Right now? He bit his lip. “Well…” he said hesitantly. “This is nice?”
---
“I like this too,” Terry admitted, sighing. “But I meant sort of more… long term wise. Do you want something that’s basic and just… this? Kissing on a couch in a room? Or do you want something… do you want to have someone who you can build a life with? I know that’s pushy, but I can’t really just have a casual guy drop in all the time with a question mark over him. Not with Rosie, I’m not going to be able to let a string of guys go in and out of her life. I mean. I watched my Mom do that, and I had a lot of one night stands. I’m sort of over that, Peter,” he admitted, before glancing back to Peter’s face.
“I don’t need an answer now. But I will need one.”
--
Peter surprised himself by not going into a panic but actually thinking about the question as it was put to him. Maybe he really had grown up in the last two weeks. It was hard to know what he wanted, though, when he’d never been in anything remotely approaching a relationship. He wanted to stay with Terry. That was a given. But Terry had a child; and they couldn’t just ignore that. Peter had no experience with children but he could imagine how confusing this place must be for someone who wasn’t old enough to grasp the concept of interdimensional non-reality.
“I want… I want to be with you,” he said finally, earnestly but trying not to sound desperate. “But… Terry… I know you’re still sort of new here, but… things happen… I mean, people leave all the time. Even if they don’t want to. People come in, all the time. I… can’t promise that… that I won’t suddenly be gone, some day.” He shuddered inwardly at the thought, but it was a possibility - even a probability - and he had to face it. “And what about, um, your ex? I mean, Rosie’s… other dad. What if he shows up? That wouldn’t be fair on her, either.” He bit his lip. He didn’t know why he was suddenly giving reasons they shouldn’t have a life together, when that was what he really wanted. “Not to mention he’ll probably knock me sideways if he thinks he’s still together with you,” he added, trying to make it sound like a joke, like Terry had earlier, but he had to admit it was … kind of a concern.
---
“I haven’t had to see someone I care about leave yet, I’ve been really lucky. I mean, my boss left but I wasn’t close to her. But I’ve made plans for what happens if I leave and Rosie is still here, my friend Sally gets her. I know that… if you left I would be heartbroken. It would hurt. But I think that I’d rather be with someone like you and have you with me as long as you’ll take me. If you’re taken, that’s one thing. I can deal with that one day, and Rosie’s dealt with a lot of back and forth. She’s resilient. As for me ex, my future husband, I’m not with him today. I don’t know what happens in the future to make us get back together, but I’m not there right now. And I’m really okay with that.”
Terry sighed, trying to sort out his emotions so that he could list them down into words easily. “I care about my ex, but I wouldn’t want to be sitting on a couch like this with him and leaning in to kiss him. I would with you. I am with you, actually,” Terry said, doing exactly what he’d just said he would do.
---
Peter was going to open his mouth to argue - if only his traitor brain would shut up! - but then Terry kissed him again and he lost every last shred of resolve. When Terry kissed him it was easier to forget that he didn’t deserve happiness. Maybe he didn’t have to deserve it. Maybe it could just… happen.
He made a pleased noise and kissed Terry back, properly, for the first time that night. By the time they broke for air he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought you weren’t going to sit next to me so this didn’t happen,” he said, realising that at some point his fingers had wound into a fist around Terry’s shirt collar. His expression softened. “I can stay, then?” he asked, a little shyly though he was pretty sure of the answer, if that kiss had been any indication.
---
“Oh, sod it, we’ve talked a lot tonight. I want you, you want me, we like each other, this is is our only chance, so let’s just take it,” he said with a laugh, finally leaning back in and kissing him again as a response as he wrapped up closer to Peter and didn’t bother to hide the smile as they kept going. It felt so easy to kiss him there, and when the other man asked if he could stay, Terry felt conflicted. Because he wanted Peter to stay, but he also had to pick his daughter up before it got too late. And being a dad had to come first.
“I have to be dad tonight,” he said, closing his eyes. “My kid has been at care all day, I need to get her and help her take a bath and then put her to bed. But if you’re willing to wait around for that, then I can meet you after,” Terry said. Part of him wished, for a split second, he didn’t have that responsibility. But he also knew that the moment Rosie ran up to him, that was it: he wanted to be a dad. He loved her.
He kissed Peter again, putting a hand dangerously close to the upper thigh. “You could wait in my room,” he said, biting his lower lip. “If you want. I’d introduce you to her, but she’s going to be wiped.” He hoped.
---
Peter hesitated for a moment. He did want to stay; the thought of going back home to sleep alone in his room with no one but Snape in the next room for company was highly unappetising, but it did sound like he’d be intruding. “Are you sure?” he asked tentatively. “I won’t be in the way?”
---
“Yeah, it’s fine, besides. You left last time, anyways. Pretty sure you owe me some morning kisses,” Terry said, that goofy grin coming back before he kissed Peter on the cheek. “I’ll be back really soon- just make yourself comfortable, it’s good,” Terry said, getting up from the couch and turning to make sure his wallet and keys were in his pocket before going to the door and then doubling back to half jog back for another kiss.
“Okay, okay, coming back, going quick,” Terry promised, finally slipping out of the house. He walked over to where Rosie was kept after school when Terry was at work overnight, and finally came back with her and put her down to bed. He went as quickly as he could, but they still had to play with the bubbles in the bubble bath and he still read her a story. Which meant that it took about an hour for him to finally get her down and then back to his room, where he prayed Peter was waiting for him.
---
Peter was a bit bewildered at being suddenly left alone in someone else’s house. Still, he ran with it. Realising belatedly that he hadn’t eaten yet that evening, he went to the kitchen in search of something to eat. He was pleasantly surprised to find the box of pears he’d left on Terry’s doorstep sitting on the counter, with some missing. He took one and munched on it while he tried to make sense of the last hour or so in his mind. Everything had changed again. Just when he thought it was all over, that there was no point in ever trying to be anything more, everything changed.
He was just finishing his second pear when he heard voices coming up the path to the house. In a fit of panic he threw the rest of his pear away and ran up the stairs, finding Terry’s room based on his brief visit during the move and shut the door behind him, breathing heavily. He listened guiltily at the door for a few minutes until he was sure he’d gotten away with this slip. He was pretty sure Terry hadn’t meant for Rosie to come home to a strange man eating pears at the kitchen table.
He went to the bed and flopped onto it, staring up at the ceiling. He was hiding from a five year old. The thought made him grin sheepishly. After a moment he heard the water running in the bathroom, and splashing. The sound was soothing, and the bed was soft, and after a few minutes he'd fallen into a light doze.
He heard Terry come in, in a hazy, far-off sort of way, but he was warm and comfortable, so he stayed where he was and waited to see what would happen next.
---
Terry took his shoes and sweater off, dropping them all onto the rug and walking to the bed so that he could curl up next to Peter. He wrapped an arm loosely around Peter’s waist, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he smiled and breathed in Peter’s scent. This felt very natural to him, and there was something nice about not coming to bed and finding a guy who wanted nothing but a fuck out of him. Oh, one day Terry would want something a bit more physical. Hell, that night he could go for it, but right then, at that moment, holding Peter and closing his eyes as he sighed happily was enough.
With the lights out, he wasn’t sure if the other man was asleep or awake, and so he was assuming asleep for the time being. Besides, cuddling up with Peter was nice. It was easy and just felt good. Peter smelled like bubblegum bubble bath and his hands were still a little wrinkled, but that didn’t really matter to Terry right then.
---
If you’d have tried to tell Peter a month ago that he would have been happy about someone - anyone, let alone another man - climbing into bed with him, he would have said you were insane. And yet, for a day that had started with a cloudful of rain to the face and had gone steadily downhill from there, it was an astronomical improvement. After a moment or two of silence he opened his eyes and rolled over a little so he could see Terry’s faint outline in the dark of the room. “Everything ok?” he asked, in little more than a whisper.
---
“Everything’s perfect,” Terry said, his eyes closed as he reached blindly and found the spot on Peter’s chest over his heart, feeling the way it beat under his hand and feeling so glad and grounded by that action. It was so easy to fall slowly in love with Peter Pettigrew. He didn’t know it was love, but he knew that the other man was latching onto his life hard, and he didn’t mind that so much as he got closer, spooning with him and allowing himself a slackness to allow Peter to take the night where he wanted it to go. If Peter wanted just this, so be it. If he wanted to kiss or do more, Terry could be there for him, with him, happily. But more than anything, Terry just wanted to be there in bed with him while Rosie slept down the hall in her green bedroom.
“Were you alright here?” he asked.
---
“Fine,” Peter said, trying and failing to hold back a yawn. The emotional rollercoaster of the last couple of hours was starting to take a toll, but he didn’t want to sleep, yet. “You almost caught me in the kitchen stealing pears, though. Sorry.”
---
“Pretty sure it’s not stealing if you gave them too me,” Terry pointed out, laughing softly as he wrinkled his nose and adjusted so that their legs were getting tangled and comfortable next to one another. “I liked them- the pears. Pretty sure it’s why I nearly broke down in Malfoy’s office,” he admitted, yawning a little before resting his head back down and curling his fingers into Peter’s shirt. “You smell nice. You smell like pears and rain and my soap.”
Sleep tugged at the corner of Terry’s mind, and he was tempted to give in. In fact, giving in seemed like a good idea. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it instead, just kicking the covers so that they could pull them up and over them to keep out the cold of the night.
“How do you feel about waking up early so that we can snog like a couple of teenagers before Rosie goes to school?” he asked.
--
"Sounds good to me," Peter said vaguely, still trying to understand what had already been said. "What happened in Malfoys office?" He asked curiously, snuggling closer under the sheets.
---
“I went to get Rosie enrolled all set up for school, and I ended up asking Draco about things like… redemption and if people could really change from their past. I needed to know from someone who I know does do it, I mean Malfoy isn’t the same kid he was when we were in the school. I just needed a guiding hand I guess,” Terry said, smiling a little. “Maybe we should send him some pears,” he teased, pulling Peter in enough that he could kiss his neck a few times.
Terry’s hands hunted for Peter’s skin, finally going under his shirt to touch it and feel the man’s warmth without really feeling him up too much. He just wanted the contact again, because contact felt good.
---
Peter laughed, a carefree sort of laugh that was practically a giggle, both at the joke and the tickly feel of Terry’s lips against his neck. “Well, I really did break down in McGonagall’s office,” he countered. Suddenly it was easy to talk about, although he hadn’t been going to mention it until Terry’s story. “I just went there for a new wand, but then I had to tell her everything and I just couldn’t keep it together. These last few days have been bloody awful, you know,” he added, low. “I really thought you’d never speak to me again. If Malfoy changed your mind then he can have all the pears in the shop.”
---
“Did you get a new wand?” Terry asked, liking the way Peter sounded as he kissed his neck, and so he did it again a few times before addressing the second thing that Peter had said. He moved his hands lower on Peter’s stomach and gently raked his knuckles over his stomach, making a little ‘hm’ noise when he thought about never talking to Peter again, or that Peter had feared that. “I was angry enough to do that, at first. But he did help me- he made me think about your present actions and how you’d made me feel before knowing your last name,” he said.
“I don’t know if I would have been able to push you aside totally,” he admitted.
---
Peter nodded and reached down to cover Terry’s hand with his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, low. “I tried to tell you… it was just… I didn’t want to lose you.”
---
“I know that now. And you have me now,” he said with a firmness that seemed absolute. He was happy, he was really happy that night. He felt safe. He felt wanted. And Terry felt like, for the first time, he’d made a good choice.