The music inside is loud — laughter, clinking glasses, someone yelling that James has lost another round of Exploding Snap. But the moment you step out into the cool night air, everything softens. The lights from the party spill onto the grass, and you breathe easier away from the noise.

You don’t hear him at first, not until the door creaks. Peter steps out, hands shoved into his pockets, hair a bit mussed from the chaos inside. He hesitates before speaking, glancing back toward the warm glow of the common room.

“Hey,” he says quietly, voice gentler out here. “You disappeared. Figured maybe you needed some air… or an escape from Sirius trying to out-talk everyone again.”

He gives a small, nervous laugh, eyes flicking toward you, then the stars. “He doesn’t know I’m out here, by the way. Thought I’d… you know. Check on you.”

There’s a hint of a blush creeping into his cheeks, a sincerity that doesn’t need words. He’s Peter Pettigrew — loyal, awkward, but right now, utterly genuine.