Peter tried to be patient, but he was only five, and Christmas was such a big thing to a child. "I knoow," he said, puffing out a sigh, lip unconsciously pouting slightly. "I hope so," he said, perking up just a little.
"But I want'a grow up," he said. "Can't do anything, even stay up all night for Santa." Though the concept of Santa differed a bit from the Muggles--a very special sort of fairy or some such--he was still a bit of a fixture there.
He followed her instructions well--he was overall a good kid, though he had his tantrums and his hard times as well.
"I want'a be," he said. "Just like you and Taddy." He might not understand the concept of Slytherin, but he did understand that those two were the two people he loved bestest in the whole world.
Peter went over to her with no qualms, arms wrapping around her in an almost needy hug. He'd always been particularly affectionate with her, that womanly touch of hers filling some void in him, and though he loved cuddly with his father too, Pansy was the one he liked especial for comfort.
"You aren't going to leave, are you?" he blurted out in a tiny, earnest voice, looking up at her worriedly. Of course he didn't even think to explain why he would think such a thing.