I'll Never Never Land

[man_nav_naudas]

WHO: He Who Never Wants to Grow Up and The Boy That Could
WHEN: Friday (October 22) Night; near curfew
WHERE: The Library
WHAT: A story cannot write itself. Is that so hard to believe? Clap your hands and hold on tight...

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[longlivesealand]

Back row, the second shelf from the right had become a second home to Peter over his years. The worn spines of every book on the shelf was his doing. Frayed pages of the Muggle literature he had read over and over again. What was a policeman and a fireman? How did a Muggle killing a mocking bird? Why did the caged bird sing? Every word on every page spoke of a world he was not a part of but so desperately wanted to be.

If he wasn't a wizard, would his mum and dad still be alive? A question, he knew not to ask himself again.

For now, Peter was content to lean against the column and reread one of his favorite Muggle stories. If he hadn't known better, why, he would think J.M. Barrie was a wizard. Such a fantastical world the Scotsman had created. Such resonance Peter found in the boy who refused to grow up. He traced his finger over the illustration on the page - a boy in green tight and his fairy. How Peter wished he could be just like the---

"AHHHH!"

The sudden call of his name startled him out of his thought. He hastily slammed the book shut and stared at the Slytherin next to him. There was a grudge etched in his skin. Still unable to process how he had managed to lose the game, Peter pulled the book close to his chest and blinked at Raivis.

"Hello, Raivis," he greeted, voice a bit dull and cold. "So nice to see you."

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The shout of surprise was expected.
The shun in that response-

Raivis flinched, pinked and out of breath and too weary to do more than sink down on his knees beside the wounded lion feeling he himself had been the one to sink fangs into its pride. The tie, eternally emerald green and silver, gripped suddenly like a noose. Tight, restraining.

He tugged at it self consciously, bracing a palm against Fall of the House of Usher and Aesop's Fables as he inhaled slowly and glanced at his friend through lowered lashes. Victory had never before felt so much like defeat. Apologies- for winning? For things he knew not quite what- lay temptingly on his tongue but what came when he found the words again was merely a quiet, tentative, "What are you reading-?"

[longlivesealand]

Peter begrudgingly slid over, leaving enough room for Raivis to sit if the Slytherin wanted. It was not an invitation; just a kind gentlemanly gesture. When asked what he was reading, he took utmost care to bring the book up for Raivis to see the cover.

"Peter Pan, Or The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up," Peter repeated the title word for word. "It's my favorite Muggle story, you know. It was the first Muggle book I read... because it had my name with it."

He watched Raivis' hand glided over the books.

"Have you ever read any Muggle stories? They are... fascinating. Sometimes, it's like they know about us and write things about us, you know! Of course, they think magic is all make-believe, but... you should give a try... sometimes, I suppose. If you have the time for it. I suppose that Braginsky keeps you very busy."

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And distracted, distraught. He cared about his comrade, yes, but the time he spent amongst the stacks here at the end of the day was what kept him stable. It was there between innumerable copies of Muggle literature and studies that he had, seeking the a text for his classes, met Peter and it was there they would continue their rendezvous. Rival houses though they were, he'd been captivated by his own version of the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up.

Raivis smiled hesitantly, scanning foreign names until he came across one he recognized.

It was a slim volume, type font barely able to fit down the center of the spine, 'The Little Prince' was pulled off the shelf and placed gently down on his lap, fingers tracing the letters fondly. "This," He said delicately, "Was my first. My grandmother never let me read muggle writing b-but my cousin smuggled it out of a bookshop when he was on holiday...Mazais Princis..."

He traced along the book's edges. "I-it's... it's also the book you threw at me when I surprised you the first time back in first year..." The smile grew larger. "I was lucky it wasn't bigger..."

[longlivesealand]

Peter pulled his knees to his chest, suddenly feeling an urge to make himself as small as possible. He had never cared much for house rivalry, save for hating Ravenclaw because it housed his brother. But ever since he met Raivis of Slytherin, he learned to despite the serpent house. For it had given him the chance to meet Raivis but made him the property of one Russian Slytherin. The thought made his heart ache; the realization that he was never to have Raivis for his own.

"Le Petit Prince," Peter repeated in accented French. "That one is fascinating as well... a wee bit sad since the poor prince... ah, well you know how it ends."

He hunched his shoulders and once again, tried to appear smaller than he already was.

"Didn't mean to, you know. You scared me, is all. Not a lot of students come to the Muggle section... especially not after dark. I thought you were a professor or Filch, you know..."

With courage, Peter picked himself up and searched the bookshelves. His fingers danced over the spine of each book, mouth murmuring the name of each book. He stopped with a soft 'ah-ha' and pulled out a book.

"For you," he said, presenting Raivis with a copy of Treasure Island. "I don't know if you know... but there are these people called 'pirates' in the Muggle world, they are... Well, I won't spoil it for you, but if you have time to read this..."

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"Read it with me?"

Raivis gave a slow shuttered blinking as he peered at the book before him, held by a hand covered by another- his own, the traitorous creature, acting without his consent just as words had sounded he did not register as his until the silence stretched on and he realized, Merlin's beard, he'd spoken them aloud.

"Th-that..."

No charms came to him that could douse the incriminating flush spreading up his neck into his cheeks. Oh, he could soak them both in summoned rain water but neither wanting for the fury of Madame Pince or the awkward discomfort of sodden clothing he refrained. Retracted his hand slowly because he admittedly did not want to move it from the texture of Peter's skin. Warm, faintly peppered with faded nicks and scrapes. "That is, I... would have difficulty understanding the muggle terminology- Mazais Princis was simple because it was fantasy but this- you're much more well versed in their world. You could tell me what things do, what they mean."

[longlivesealand]

Peter thought he must have misheard Raivis, and so chose to ignore the Slytherin's comment. He continued to stroll down the aisle until he came upon the reference section. As Raivis spoke in his timid voice, Peter picked out two heavy books, nearly toppled over by their sheer weights, and strolled back to Raivis.

He gave over the two books. One was a Muggle dictionary for Muggles, Oxford-printed; the other was a nearly brand-new copy of a Muggle encyclopedia.

"Not a lot of people borrow these books," he said, handing them over.

An imaginative spark passed between their skin as their flesh touched. Peter had to withdraw his hands quickly, letting the books drop on Raivis' unsuspecting hands.

And Raivis was still talking about reading Treasure Island together.

"Oh. You weren't mucking about," Peter mumbled. His head lowered, as did his gaze. "If you want... I suppose... I am quite the expert on Muggles after all..."

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A tragic incident of feet crushing and subsequent tome burning was only marginally avoided when Raivis set both volumes cautiously upon the floor.

"You are."

The ventures of Robert Louis Stevenson's pirates was taken up again, turned over, cover to back, back to cover. Set down again. "It is commendable. Respectable. I like it."

Raivis chortled, a pealing of bells. So very delicate around Peter, praying nothing broke. "I like you. Your voice. B-but if this one is too much trouble..."

Serpent-esque he brushed against his friend, leaned in close, placed the text he'd reached for into the lad's open palms as he drew away. Ebb and flow. "Maybe it would be better if you read something you're comfortable with."

Peter Pan.

[longlivesealand]

"You like me?"

The words flew out of Peter's mouth like a spell he didn't know. He stuttered, cleared his throat of non-existent obstruction, and glanced down at his robe that trailed the library floor.

"Oh."

"I see."

"All right."

Peter pushed away Robert Louis Stevenson's pirates for now and opened his favorite Muggle book again. His fingers traced over the first illustration in the book, in which a small leaf-clad boy played an instrument atop a boulder.

"It's a pan flute," Peter felt the urge to the explain. "It's Peter Pan's common instrument. He likes playing it, you know. To pass time, because time is odd in Neverland. It never seems to pass."

He drew in his shoulders. A warmth danced over him as their bodies remained close.

Peter flipped to the next page and read, his voice and tone indicated that he had long memorized J.M. Barrie's words.