"Tell-a-phone," Sirius said slowly, narrowing his eyes at the device Professor Starkovs was showing off to the class. "What a strange word." Peter smiled.
"When a Muggle wishes to speak with another Muggle," Professor Starkovs was saying, "he will use this dial here to select numbers which correspond to a certain code associated with the other Muggle's household. Once the code has been entered, the telephone of the person being contacted will emit a loud ringing noise to notify them of the call instantaneously."
"That's actually pretty neat," James murmured. He elbowed Peter in the side. "Do you have one of those at your place, Wormy?"
Peter nodded. "We use it to talk to my grandparents," he said. "It's much faster than using owls."
"Huh," James mused. "Bet you don't have to feed those things mice, either." Sirius laughed.
Remus was out of class thanks to the full moon being the night before, and though Peter always missed the chance to copy off his notes, he was grateful for the rare lack of tension and awkwardness between the remaining Marauders. Remus still rarely spoke to Sirius, and James and Peter had accompanied him alone to the Shrieking Shack the past two moons, leaving Sirius and his dog behind in the dorm. None of them had touched the Marauder's Map since returning to school; Peter was pretty sure James had it stashed among his luggage somewhere beneath his bed. There was no point to finishing the map if the Marauders were not together.
As Professor Starkovs began showing off the wires connected to the phone, Peter reached backwards in a stretch to loosen his shoulders, only to feel his knuckles tap against something glass and tip it over. He twisted around in his seat to find the Hufflepuff Fiona Sakai's inkwell overturned behind him, black liquid oozing out onto her notes. Fiona watched it spread with widened eyes.
"Oh, sorry!" Peter squeaked, sliding his chair back behind her desk to examine the damage he'd done. Her notes for the day had been almost entirely ruined by the spilled ink. "I—I'll let you copy mine after class…."
Fiona sat back and smiled at him. "No need," she said. "Watch this." She pulled out her wand and waved it over her papers. "Retorsa."
The spilled ink began to seep into the paper and the wood of Fiona's desk until it had all been absorbed, leaving Fiona's notes entirely clean of the mess. Peter widened his eyes. "I've got to learn that spell," he murmured. "I'm always spilling things."
"So am I," Fiona admitted. "I can teach it to you after class if you'd like; it's not hard."
Peter nodded, his eyes fixed on Fiona's smile. She was so pretty; she wore her hair in loose dark waves that curled around her slender, bird-like shoulders, and her eyes were a warm brown that reminded Peter of melted chocolate. And she was smiling at him.
"Sometimes it sort of feels like cheating to be taking Muggle Studies," Fiona was saying. She inclined her chin towards Professor Starkovs, who was still lecturing on about phone wires and completely oblivious to their conversation at the back of the room. "You're Muggle-born too, right?"
"N—no," Peter stammered. "Well, sort of. Both my parents were, so I…I'm definitely not a pure-blood."
Fiona gave a little nod. "It's getting scary for folks like us out there, isn't it? With You-Know-Who and everything. We're so protected here at Hogwarts, but once we leave, who knows what could happen to us?"
"Who knows," Peter echoed. He'd hardly ever spoken to Fiona Sakai before—mostly he only spoke to the other Marauders—but she understood how he felt about everything far more than any of them ever could. He didn't like to talk with his friends about his worries for the future, knowing they'd think him a coward for having them, so hearing Fiona acknowledge them was strangely comforting. And she was still smiling at him….
"Would you like to go to a Quidditch game with me?" Peter blurted out suddenly. "The Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw game next month. I know you're in Hufflepuff, so you probably don't care, but—"
"I'd love to go," Fiona interrupted. Her eyes twinkled. "Hufflepuff or not, I haven't been to a Quidditch game since third year. I'm always too busy for them, I suppose."
Peter had been to every single Gryffindor game since James had joined the team; he'd seen enough Quidditch to last him a lifetime. "That's—that's great! It's set for November ninth right now, but James is trying to get it moved back a few days."
"Why?"
Because the full moon is on the seventh. "I dunno. He thinks the day is bad luck or something. Either way, I…I hope you can make it."
"I'll be sure to clear my schedule." Fiona tilted her head gently to the side. "You'll have to explain all the calls to me, though. I'm rubbish with Quidditch rules."
"I'll do my best," Peter promised. His mouth was hanging slightly ajar.
"Good." Fiona touched Peter's arm gently, sending a pleasant tingle up his skin. "Thanks for inviting me, Peter. I think I need something fun to do right about now."
"I—you're welcome, Fiona."
James, who clearly had been listening in on their conversation, reached behind him to fist-bump Peter underneath Fiona's desk. Peter had to hide his massive grin behind a yawn.
For the first time in his entire life, Peter Pettigrew had scored himself a date.
