WHO: Peter Fitzwilliams and Rose Knightley WHAT: Awkward date night WHERE: Thomas McCormack's front porch WHEN: FRIDAY night
Peter walked up the long path to the front door of Thomas McCormack’s house, feeling very much like a fifth year building up the courage to sit beside the girl he fancied in the library. His hands were fidgeting in his pockets, for Merlin’s sake, Peter Fitzwilliams did not fidget. Except he was, and he hesitated before climbing the few steps to the porch.
When he had suggested getting dinner for Rose, it had created the beginning of an unknown, but welcome journey. Whether it fizzled or soared, he didn’t know, but he’d started the pace. Then, she had initiated the actual meeting, which was a good, and once again welcome, step. Peter wanted to keep things moving at a natural rhythm, he didn’t want to force things with Rose because he had been the one that had messed things up. How could he not think every step through and through?
He had not been expecting the quidditch season to be canceled, or for Rose to consequently be sent across the ocean to play for his old club in the United States. The thought of Maximus Brankovitch III breathing the same air as Rose made Peter’s head spin, so how was he to put all of this into an equation that worked out for them? Could it? Should it?
Peter rang the doorbell and instantly held his breath. No, no, he had to breathe, and after a moment of focusing on regaining his composure, he straightened his shoulders and waited for the door to be answered.
Holding Alice tight in her arms, Rose and her goddaughter watched as Peter made his slow ascent up to the front porch from the second story window. And as Rose stared, transfixed with a kind of dreaded excitement, all she could think about was how she should have owled Peter Fitzwilliams to cancel on him. That would have been the best course of action, better than spending the entire day getting ready, fretting (melting down) over this and that, begging Thomas help her with important things (that did not include packing) because…. because she was leaving. Tomorrow! Her portkey left tomorrow, and while it wasn’t for forever, it was long enough to wonder what was she doing spending her last night on English soil with---
The buzz of the doorbell shook her thoughts, and with Alice aptly plucked from her hands by her father, Rose quickly skirted downstairs. She felt nervous and unsure, certainly terrified (a constant state she found herself in since Thursday), and… why didn’t Thomas have a mirror in the front foyer?
She opened the door abruptly anyway.
And… Rose found herself caught, staring at Peter with round, wide eyes as she thought of all she wanted to say to him. The real things, not the silly excuses she had been making all day, but the things that felt caught in her chest, in her throat, at this very moment. Did he feel them too?
Vaguely, her hand fell behind to pull at the door in a quiet attempt to close it. Rose still hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even greeted him; perhaps the wistful look on her face said it all, but she felt words building on her tongue regardless. The door snapped shut, and the sound jolted her to say something.
“You have to tell me how awful Fitchburg is,” Rose blurted, unable to avoid the thought even as she continued to stare at him. She couldn’t not think about it, couldn’t avoid it, and if this was to at all be given a chance, it had to be talked about. Nonetheless, the tug from their silent exchange, his perfectly crafted face, still had a steady hold on her, so Rose titled her chin up toward him as she spoke.
He certainly hadn’t wished to discuss Fitchburg, Massachusetts tonight.
Peter pressed his lips together, unable to pull his hands out of his pockets, having had retreated there after ringing the doorbell. He had wished, perhaps, to ignore the large hippogriff in the corner of the room when it came to whatever it was he and Rose were attempting to establish. Why would he want to discuss the latest thing to put a quite literal wedge (or ocean was more apt) between them?
His eyes were downcast, and Peter refrained from scuffing his feet in his quiet frustration. It was his own fault, really. If he’d been braver all those years ago, they would have figured things out. For better or for worse, but he’d been the one to...he had thought he’d been doing the right thing...Letting out a breath, Peter looked back up at Rose and smiled sadly. She looked lovely.
“It’s beautiful,” he said, unable to lie. Peter often ran his mouth about the lackluster North American league, but he could have spent all those years in a much worse place. “This is probably the best time of the year to go. Autumn in New England can’t be compared.”
Thinking back, Peter put a hand up, pointing a single finger almost lazily in thought. Lazily wasn’t right, he was reminiscing. “There’s a giant boulder in the middle of the town, supposedly the muggles blew it up and put it back together…but, anyway, you’ll have a lot of adventures centered around that rock...”
Immediately, Rose could tell Peter’s words sat distastefully in his mouth. He was not lying, Rose knew Peter hardly ever did, and she found herself thinking fondly of him for bearing through that which he did not want purely for her benefit. Her lips curled into a sad smile to match his, and unable to respond just yet, she took in a deep breath.
It was a humming kind of silence that bloomed between them now, one that had Rose unsure about how to proceed. She had thought… his words had eased her a little, though she was hard-pressed to see herself have any adventures in the States… famous muggle rock or not… should she not have…? A lone hand went to hold her opposite bare arm.
“I’m sorry, I… I couldn’t just---” Rose began suddenly, shaking her head as she dropped her chin and closed her eyes. “It’s all I can think about. I didn’t want to go, but Caerphilly...” Briefly, Rose thought back to how easy it was to swing out of favor with Caerphilly Management. She had experienced a lenient understanding on their part these past two years thanks solely to her MVP title last season, but Rose had not forgotten how poorly she was treated when the favor disappeared.
“They make it impossible to say no. I forgot my cloak, I’ll just…” In a fumbling kind of manner, Rose pressed back against the door she had just shut, pushing her palm down against the handle. Leaning in, she peered over her shoulder to hastily grab the cloak hanging on the rack near the door--- she had forgotten her purse as well. Pressing her lips together, she quickly leaned again to grab that as well, feeling foolish for twice (thrice!) now letting her nerves get the best of her. A small smile appeared on her lips again as she shouldered on her cloak.
“I am ready now, I promise.”
Peter watched Rose go back and forth, feeling strange. He himself had not been abused by a contract negotiation (yet), but feeling as if you had no choice about where you life took you...it was one thing to be traded within your league, but to be sent to another country? To recover lost ticket sales that were only lost because the league and the Ministry had let them down? They weren’t toys that could be tossed about, loaned to a friend, and yet here was a group of grown men and women who had no control over their own lives.
Rose did not want to go to Fitchburg, but she was. Peter did not want her to go to Fitchburg, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“When do you leave?” Peter blurted, not having moved from his spot. Peter Fitzwilliams did not blurt his words, he did not jam his hands into his pockets, and yet! Here he was, doing both, because Rose Knightley had allowed him back into her life and he didn’t know what to do with that invitation.
“They’re not...I haven’t heard of plans to send me anywhere, so...I could go to Fitchburg. With you. I could show you around, help you settle in---”
That was a bit much. Too much. Peter ducked his chin, feeling brash. “That was rude of me to assume.”
Was it? For a brief moment, as she looked up from adjusting the folds of her own cloak, Rose saw a glance of her months to come in the United States. A terrified version of herself clinging heartily to Peter as he pushed her forward to greet his old team, a warm hand to hold that combatted the crisp Fitchburg air during public appearances and announcements, a proper shutdown of, thanks to Peter’s advice, Maximus Brankovitch III as he tried to butt his nose (she had the honor of meeting him briefly in New York) in all that did not concern him. They were a nice images, ones that almost instantly cooled the bitter panic within her, and Rose found she very badly wanted them to become real. A familiar face, Peter’s reassuring presence in these next uncertain months… It made her believe that the frightening journey she must begin could be exciting.
But….
Her head tilted in humble surprise (he would do that for her?), and Rose thought of all the ways she poorly handled opportunities like this in the past. If this were two, three, four years ago, she knew what her resounding answer would be. Quite easily, actually, for how many times before had she dove into uncertain waters? And every time… her gaze fell to the ground momentarily, thinking those jumps of the heart had led her, honestly, to heartbreak and confusion; what she had done wrong… what was wrong with her that she couldn’t make things work with the people she thought she loved the most?
So wasn’t that funny? Despite wanting very much to be with him, Rose found herself thinking the best thing for them to do was not spend such a time together. It was strange to experience personal growth in the moment.
But…
A small smile perked onto her lips, and soundlessly Rose slipped her purse strap further down her arm. Peter felt embarrassed, he hadn’t even stopped to let himself realize how touching his words were to her heart. So to show he had nothing to feel abashed about, she easily slid toward him. A gentle hand graced the side of Peter’s neck, and drawing him to her, Rose very quietly kissed him. It was not an urgent kiss, one that needed him to change his mind, but a soothing one, one that hopefully explained why his offer could not come to pass.
“Not totally rude,” she murmured, pulling away after a sound moment. “But I leave tomorrow, so perhaps too quick.”
He had been expecting Rose to turn back around and shut the door in his face for such a suggestion. Who was he to think that she would even want him around past this evening? They hadn’t even stepped off the porch! Peter felt startled at her smile and did not understand what was happening until she kissed him.
Their one night a few months ago had been nothing but sex, even if he had the unfortunate aftertaste of nostalgia floating through his mind for days after the fact. Peter hadn’t realized how much he’d actually enjoyed the idea of rekindling things with Rose until her rejection at the All-Star party, and now...he felt a great relief that his spontaneous declaration of being willing to cross an ocean to ensure she didn’t have a miserable time in Fitchburg had not scared her straight off.
In fact, he was quite relieved to not have that sort of pressure on his shoulders, even if he had been the one to put it there. Yes, she would be far away, they couldn’t pick up where they’d left off which...which was a good thing. They shouldn’t, they had left off with him being weak, in a time where he had no say over what he did with his life. Even if it didn’t feel like they had any power right now, with their contracts being bought out and loaned, they still…they were the one thing in life they could control.
She couldn’t kiss him like that and expect him to move on, could she? Peter stepped forward and put a hand to the side of her face, feeling the cloak of awkwardness that he’d been wearing slip away.
“We’ve got plenty of time until tomorrow,” he said, wondering how late these dinner reservations ran. Peter smiled fully before kissing her again.
She relaxed, her hand falling to lay still by her own side. Rose found it very easy to let Peter Fitzwilliams snog her (and perhaps kiss him back, too), her chin tilted up toward him in the most accepting of ways. His response eased her, she found the terror that had been steadily filling her concerning all thoughts of tomorrow drift away, and it was with an interim peace that she allowed time to inch forward.
That was, until….
A lone palm indicated back toward the front door, and opening her eyes, Rose gestured vaguely to it. Even with the uncertainty of whether he was watching or not, she doubted Thomas would appreciate such a display on his own front porch (not that it was truly a display). She pulled away from Peter, tucking her chin toward her shoulder, and pressed her lips together. Her other hand went to Peter’s chest, brushing against it to steady herself.
“Dinner,” Rose swallowed thickly, and her hand now patting against him. Yes? Hadn’t that been the whole point? To not to get too… to be reasonable. So to be reasonable, Rose pulled back from him all together, swept her hair over her shoulder, and quietly glided around Peter to proceed down the steps to the anti-apparation area outside the house. Keeping her chin high, Rose did not look back as her fingers grazed over his hand while she passed him, thinking that would ruin the little fun they were allowed to have.