Well, this chapter was crap. Sorry it's short and late, but I ran out of ideas for Fourth Year. I dragged it out a little too long. Each part was written on a different day, so they might each sound a little different. My favorite part for this chapter though is the last part. Hope it's not too hard to get through.

Chapter 8: Unsettling Revelations

Deaton stood at his podium, overlooking the whole of the Great Hall. He looked more serious than any of them had ever seen him, mouth pinched, eyes haunted and disappointed. They skipped over each student, pausing on Stiles and his friends as he came to them. Grasping the sides of his podium, he inhaled deeply and sighed heavily.

"We are nearing the end of yet another year, and though much has remained the same for some of you, much had changed for others of you." His eyes fell to Stiles before darting away. "But one thing can be said, it has been a very eventful year. Before we get to eating , I have a few things that you all need to know about." He breathed deeply again, glancing behind him at the two empty seats at Chris Argent's side.

"Now that the Fifth Years have finished their O.W.L.s, the decision has been made to release Professor Katherine Argent. Until we find someone new to take her place, your Charms period will now become a free period for the remainder of the year."

Stiles, wide-eyed, snapped his head to Scott and Derek as the Great Hall filled with suspicious mutters and exuberant shouts. At his own table, the other boys exchanged quick sentences, eyes darting between one another.

"Holy shit, they fired her?" Matt whispered, glancing wide-eyed between his dorm mates and the empty seats.

Jackson stared at him incredulously. "Of course they did, dumbass. She attacked a student, even if she did end up in the Hospital Wing right alongside him. They'd never let that fly, especially since Deaton's mothering instinct is as large as Kate's ego."

"I'm not sure that metaphor actually makes any sort of sense," Aiden muttered.

"A free period will also be replacing your Defense Against the Dark Arts period as Professor Gerard Argent had decided to resign in wake of Professor Katherine Argent's dismissal. For the time being, those posts will remain empty until we find new professors before the beginning of next year." Silence, thick and uncomfortable, filled the Great Hall, all eyes trained on their headmaster. "As a reminder, everything that walks in the day is not good, just as everything that travels in the night is not always bad. Be wary. I wish you all a prosperous end to your school year." With the last of his words, Deaton clapped and turned to take his seat beside Chris.

…..

"Bed," Stiles groaned quietly, stumbling towards the Slytherin dormitories somewhere around three in the morning the last Friday night of the term, the other boys in tow. He shoved through the door, falling face-first into his bed. Two bodies fell on either side of him, but he thought nothing of it. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before.

The twins climbed into Aiden's bed, falling into sleep without even removing their sweaters. Matt stole his bed for himself. Isaac and Boyd quickly claimed a bed, lying back to back. Jackson barely managed to pull off his socks and shirt before he was tumbling onto his own mattress, nearly missing it for the floor.

Danny stood over Stiles' bed, glaring at the two extra bodies crowding it. "No, really, do either of you understand the term 'boyfriend'? Doesn't that automatically give me bed rights?" he asked indignantly.

Scott peaked at him over his shoulder, but snuggled closer to his best friend, sticking out his tongue playfully. Derek couldn't be bothered to even twitch a muscle.

With a roll of his eyes, Danny turned to Jackson's bed. "It's fine, whatever, but I get bed privileges for at least a week without any interruptions from you two after this, I hope you know," he quipped irately as he pushed his best friend to the side and slid beneath the covers.

"Only if you're gentle with me," Stiles murmured back sleepily, mouth thick with alcohol and blankets, "I'm a fragile flower."

"You're about as fragile as Peter's confidence," Danny told him.

"Shut up and go to sleep," Jackson snarled, slapping a pillow over Danny's face. After a short scuffle that ended with Danny as the victor, they settled down.

The room filled with the easy, steady breathing of deep sleepers, ones that would probably be considered dead if their chests didn't move so much. They were all just beginning to slip into their respective dreams when a loud crash echoed through the room, followed by a low, deep groan of pain, startling them back into the waking world.

"What the absolute fuck was that?" Jackson groaned into the still darkness.

Stiles leaned over the side of his bed, looking down towards the floor. He could just barely make out Derek sprawled across the stones. "Derek, what happened?" he asked even though the simple answer was just that he'd rolled off the edge.

"I thought my bed was longer," Derek groaned pathetically, his voice higher, a whiney edge to it.

Stiles had to press a hand to his mouth to keep his laughter in. Giggles and laughter were stifled against pillows and shoulders all around the room. "You alright?" he managed, the grin obvious in his voice.

"I think I broke something," Derek moaned.

The laughter broke forth, drunk and a little hysterical in the early morning hours, filling the room to the brim. They could hear the girls outside the dormitory, Erica, Lydia and Cora, griping about how they were all gay as they passed, heading towards the girls dormitories. The boys only laughed harder.

"Hey, Derek, why did you fall off the bed again?" Ethan asked, pressing his wrist against his mouth.

Derek growled in irritation. "I thought my bed was longer."

The laughter rolled through the room again. "But it's not your bed, Derek," Scott laughed, trying to make his words at least halfway understandable.

"What? Whose bed is it then?" Derek slurred, struggling to push himself up on his wolfsbane vodka heavy limbs, pressing his hot cheek to the cool stones beneath when he'd finally given up on the attempt.

"Stiles'," Scott replied. The pair was still watching the astonishingly drunk boy with half-hazy eyes of their own.

"What? Why am I in Stiles' bed?"

"Because you're always in his bed," Jackson shot over to him, his own words running together in a sloppy slur.

Derek was silent for a moment, putting two and two together. "Oh yeah, right." Latching onto the edge of the bed, he hauled himself back into the nest of blankets and sheets and limbs. Rearranging themselves, Scott lay on his stomach, occupying most of the space. Stiles faced him, lying on his side, and Derek pressed in against his back, nuzzling the back of his neck. Warm, moist breath fanned across Stiles' neck, sending a shiver up his spine.

"The Gay Brigade has finally settled down," Jackson murmured, pressing into Danny's side like he'd never do if he were sober.

"It seems like that makes it your turn to shut up," Boyd grumbled without malice or irritation.

Jackson hissed low in his throat, the vibration running along Danny's shoulder, but no words followed.

As the room drifted back to sleep, no one, save for Stiles, heard the three life-changing words whispered on Derek's last conscious breath, "I love you."

…..

"Um, Professor Peter," Stiles called cautiously as he pushed open the classroom door, half hoping that Peter wouldn't be there while simultaneously hoping he would be because he couldn't exactly fix his problem on his own. He was the last professor he wanted to go near, especially since he could smell distress and weakness a mile away, but he was also the only teacher who could remotely correct whatever that Sixth Year had done.

Of course, Peter was there and in the most jovial of moods. Stiles could only repress a hopeless groan.

"Ah, Stiles! What a nice surprise, but I have to wonder why you're here and not getting ready for the travel home," Peter said, closing his last trunk with a practiced flick of his wand. He moved towards Stiles, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is it about my nephew? I knew you'd come around eventually. I recommend you initiate it, otherwise it'll never happen."

Red staining his cheeks, Stiles shook his head. "This isn't about Derek. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm in a relationship with a Ravenclaw. It's another Transfiguration and Charm issue."

The sly smile continued to play across Peter's lips even as he said, "Pity, but you should let Derek take care of that Sixth Year puta for you."

Stiles rubbed at his forehead, trying to purge the sound of Peter saying 'puta' in casual conversation from his mind. "I can deal with the Sixth Year on my own. What I can't deal with is my zipper trying to inject me with scorpion poison every time I try to unzip it or my skin burning anyone who comes in contact with me. Do you know how long I've gone without kissing my boyfriend or hugging Scott or pinching Derek? Hours, Professor, hours."

"Are you sure you're not stressing because you haven't gotten head from this 'boyfriend' of yours in those hours?" Peter asked, unimpressed as he twirled his wand carelessly through the air.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Peter. "I didn't think you thought to little of me, Professor, but… I'm not saying that doesn't have something to do with it either."

Rolling his eyes, Peter gestured to Stiles' clothing. "Off with the cloak then, I need to be able to see what I'm doing. For the burning, I'd suggest seeing Professor Harris or perhaps Madame McCall. You might need to get tested for an STD."

"Har har, you're absolutely hilarious, Professor. I'm rolling on the floor with laughter," Stiles snapped sarcastically, stripping his cloak from his shoulders, tossing it over a desk, "I don't have an STI."
"How would you know? You've only been sexually active for less than a year, and I can guarantee that your 'boyfriend' has been sexually active for at least a year longer," Peter replied easily, staring down at the scorpion tail growing out of Stiles' fly, "Well, well, that is a problem, but sloppy work on that Sixth Year's part."

"Yeah, so bad that I don't know how he managed it," Stiles grumbled, "And how would you know how long I've been doing the do? That's not information I hand out on a whim."

Peter rolled his eyes sharply before returning to the task at hand. "Oh please, you reeked of virginity up until after Christmas break. Anyone with eyes could tell someone had fucked you, and in a good way too. It's too bad it wasn't my nephew." He stepped back, muttering a few spells under his breath as he waved his wand through the air. After several more attempts, the scorpion tail finally curled in on itself, returning to its normal boring zipper self. "There, all fixed. Roll up your sleeve."

"No, seriously, what is with you and getting Derek and me naked in bed together?" Stiles spat, his face coloring again as his mind returned to the night before and the words Derek had whispered as he'd slipped into sleep.

Peter ran a finger along Stiles' forearm, jerking his hand back as his flesh began to sizzle. "That's a nasty charm there. I can tell you that it wasn't cast by the zipper perpetrator. It corresponds with Kate's M.O., but the magic is different. You've made yourself quite a few enemies, Stiles." He stepped back, staring at Stiles' pale freckle marked skin in fascination. Stiles wanted to turn and run. "I'm simply a concerned uncle looking out for my nephew's best interests."

"Being a little less concerned would be superb," Stiles muttered, resisting the urge to cross his arms.

Peter's eyebrows rose at that. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Stiles, I would love to see my nephew unwind and dislodge that pole he's got shoved up his rectum, but you are a fascinating creature all on your own. I wouldn't mind bending you over a desk myself." He said the words so casually, as if he screwed students every day.

For all Stiles knew, he did. He suddenly wasn't as comfortable leaning against the desk as he had been before. 'I should have brought Lydia or Scott with me,' he thought miserably.

"Dad, leave him alone," a gruff, unfailingly calm female voice said from the doorway, "You can't drag him into your bed of fire. It's illegal, even in the Wizarding World, and by the look on his face, it'd be rape."

"Ah, Malia, darling, have you finished packing?" Peter asked, smiling his smile that boasted of his power over others. At a curt nod, he continued. "This is Mr. Stilinski. He's second on your year behind Lydia Martin. Have you had the pleasure of meeting?"

"Not officially. Madame McCall and Sheriff Stilinski have given me a ride home on a number of occasions, but we've only really talked in passing when he wasn't being hung off of by his other friends." She looked over him and held out her hand, deeming him worthy. "Officially, I'm Malia Hale or Tate, whichever you prefer. I've seen your Quidditch matches. You play well. I'd like to play with you one of these days."

The dirty blonde watched him expectantly, brown eyes focused on him, tanned hand outstretched.

Stiles stumbled over his words, hands flailing uselessly around himself. "Oh, um, it's nice to, um, actually talk to you. I'd shake your hand, but- It's kind of, uh-" He shot a glare towards Peter.

Peter rolled his eyes again. "Mr. Stilinski had made a number of enemies. He was just having me help remove a charm that burns anyone who comes into skin to skin contact with him." With a mutter and flick, Peter waved grandiosely at them. "Hurt my daughter, Stiles, and Kate Argent will be the least of your worries," Peter told him cheerfully.

Malia shook Stiles' hand with a flutter of eyelashes and pointed glare at her father. "I can take care of myself, Dad. Butt out and stop scaring people away," she snarled. Leading Stiles out, they started towards the Slytherin dormitories.

"I didn't realize Peter had any children," Stiles said, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Several, actually. He has another son that I've met, but he's too young for Hogwarts still. I haven't met any of the others yet."

"I didn't, uh, realize you were his daughter."

"We didn't either till a few years ago. Thank you, Aunt Talia." She should have sounded bitter, but mostly, she just sounded annoyed. "It's not information we just give out." She waited outside the common room calmly as Stiles dodged the questions of his dorm mates and dragged his trunk out. "Sorry about my Dad," she said as they turned to go to Gryffindor Tower, "He's a psychopath."

"Oh, I know. He wants to pin me to a bed. I know." Stiles laughed a little, calling the password to the Fat Lady from down the hall. They stepped into the common room, and as they did, Stiles said, "Oh, sorry for not actually introducing myself. I'm Stiles Stilinski. No, that's not actually my first name, but my real name is almost as hellish as your father. Nice to meet you."

Well… that was that. I really have a love for writing Peter being creepy and faking concern. There is a reason that he acts like that towards Stiles, and it's not a shipping reason. We'll find out probably in Sixth Year, so we get another year of him being creepy. I'd like to hear your theories on why Peter acts the way he does, if y'all don't mind. See you next time.