therealpm

Sally...

*He looks aghast...*

I couldn't... you can't make me pick just one!

*He pauses for thought and takes a long sip of water.*

Well...

...disregarding his viewing of every sporting event ever. And his attempts at wooing before he met you. And his time in the chamber....

Several months ago he came into possession of a new broom.

*He shoots a sly glance towards the door, then continues, warming to his theme.*

A rather high mark model. Perhaps that was the problem- the more expensive they are, the flightier and more difficult to handle they can be, and this one was very expensive...

Anyway, as I say, perhaps it was an exceptionally excitable model, or perhaps John had simply bitten off more than he could chew when ordering it, but when it arrived he found that he simply could not get it to return to his hand.

*Peter took another sip of water, gauging Sally's reaction, which seemed to be a mixture of outrage at John and anticipation at what was sure to be an amusing tale*

In fact... he couldn't get it to come to his hand even once. It refused. John would walk after it, and it would sail away, ever so slightly out of reach. He tried running. He tried spells. The broom zipped around the room (much to the children's amusement, by the way), hexes bouncing hither and thither, but still the broom almost had a mind of its on and would not be called to heel.

Eventually...

*Peter grinned a conspiratorial grin*

Eventually. He got on that battered old sixties model, the painted one, you know? Made a lasso, our of goodness knows what, and started chasing the new broom, on the back of the old broom, round the living room whilst twirling a lasso, only narrowly avoiding the lamp fittings and a chandelier. The only way the spectacle could have been improved is with the addition of a certain theme tune...

...and you? You must have your own set of stories to tell?

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*Sally is giggling helplessly by the end of Peter's tale. He is an excellent storyteller, and she can picture the scene in her mind in all its ludicrousness.

This also explains why there were broom straws on the top of the bookcases that one time, and why John put on that angelically-innocent look when she asked him about it.

She takes a sip of her water and thinks about what she can tell in her turn.*

Hmmm.

Well, back when Oliver was a toddler, I had gone out for the weekly shop, leaving John in charge.

Obviously I thought that John could handle one small boy. He was a grown man, after all. (You see, I was still very young and didn't understand John terribly well yet.)

*She smiles conspiratorially at Peter.*

While I was gone, John put Oliver down for a nap and decided to work on a potion he was brewing.

Now, John isn't...potions are not the magical skill that John is best at.

John was in the middle of brewing, probably frowning at the potion and calling it names - he has a habit of talking to inanimate objects when he's cross - when Oliver woke up and decided he wanted attention.

But Oliver, being our child, decided that crying wasn't something he was interested in. He was going to solve his problem himself. So he set his mind to it and pulled himself up the side of his crib, until he'd managed to clamber out and set himself free.

John, of course, was so absorbed in his attempts at potion-making that he didn't notice a thing.

So when Oliver toddled into the room, John didn't hear anything over his swearing at his cauldron. And when Oliver toddled over to say hi to his daddy, John was too busy squinting at his potion instructions to see him.

*She takes another sip of water, enjoying the sense of drama that she's creating.*

And when Oliver threw his baby arms around his daddy's leg, John was so startled that he tipped over the cauldron.

Luckily it was a harmless potion. Even though John always has had an inflate... a healthy sense of self-worth, he knows himself well enough to stay away from the dangerous potions.

Still, I arrived home to find -

*She beats a little drumroll on the arm of the chair.*

- A little green baby and a small green husband. Both with neverending cases of the hiccups.

Luckily the hiccups went away by morning. But it took a week for Oliver to lose the green tinge entirely. And as for John's cauldron...

*She giggles.*

Let's just say that he wore it for a while that evening.

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*Peter sniggers, then leans in*

He's not terribly good at basic diagnostic spellwork either.

You recall the broom I told you about earlier, the new one?

Well, when he first received it, he decided to try and play around with the charms. Why, I don't know. Broom modification is not for the faint of heart at any level, but with a racing broom of that calibre and with that much proprietry spellwork? Madness.

Anyway, John decided to have a little tinker, and he must have tripped some anti-piracy ward or other because in the blink of an eye your husband had vanished and in his place was a rather grumpy cat. Order was not amused at having to share the food bowl, I can tell you.

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*Giggling at the idea of John as a moggy, Sally leans in as well.*

Believe me, I know about the spellwork. Have you heard about the time he was trying to add additional magical protections to our fire alarm and set off all the sprinklers in Speaker's House?

The children had the time of their lives shrieking and running about in the water. I was...less pleased.

Edited Date: 2012-09-17 06:52 pm (UTC)

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*John, who up until this point had been listening in to the conversation and only just avoiding to comment on Peter's marvellously well executed spin on the broom story, thinks that enough is enough.*

*He calls through to the two of them.*

Yes, yes, I do believe you've spent more than enough time swapping tales and laughing at my misfortunes now, don't you?

Perhaps, Sally, it would be a good time to talk to Peter about his lycanthropy and how you can be put at ease about it?

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*Peter raises one eyebrow*

Does he always attempt to direct your private conversations like this? How very impertinent.

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*Sally laughs.*

Not always. He knows better usually.

*She raises her voice slightly.*

Eavesdroppers never hear anything good of themselves.

*She drops it to a conspiratorial whisper again.*

It's too bad I can't tell you about all the times he's tried to make himself taller. Now there are some fantastic stories.

Edited Date: 2012-09-17 07:00 pm (UTC)

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*Peter's eyes widen and he smirks*

Oh go on...

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I shouldn't, I really shouldn't.

*But Peter is smirking at her, and well, Sally's never been a particularly kind person.*

Well, there was this one time when we were newly married that he was trying to invent a new spell to give himself an extra couple of inches.

But for once he was being a bit sensible and decided he'd need to think about the logistics of this - could he just add the inches to his legs? Did he need to sort of stretch himself all over? What would be the best way?

So he went into the bedroom and fished out a pair of my heels to see what a few extra inches would look like if they were all in the legs.

He slipped them on, with much fumbling, then gingerly - ever so carefully - stood up, struggling for balance. He swore sternly at them, commanding them not to wobble. He locked his knees and stiffened his ankles.

Then he looked in the mirror.

*She struggles with her facial expression.*

And saw, behind his reflection, me standing in the bathroom door, watching him bemusedly.

*She loses the battle with her face and starts giggling.

Between her giggles, she manages - *

He fell over.

*After another bout of giggles, she sobers herself with a massive effort.*

Luckily his spell to repair a sprained ankle was rather more successful than any of his height-enhancers have been to date.

Unluckily, I was still standing there and I hadn't been a dream.

Of course, I then offered to show him how to walk in them properly, so it wasn't that bad (except for the whole embarrassment from falling over bit). I am a very understanding wife. But you don't want to hear about that.

*She beams at Peter and drops him a slow wink, before leaning back.*

Your turn.

Edited Date: 2012-09-17 07:27 pm (UTC)

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*Peter gets his face under control with difficulty, then turns to the door.*

John! You never told us about this. If we'd have had any idea of your affinity for heels, why, Alan and I would have persuaded Julian to take you to an entirely different set of bars.

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*John splutters and tried to think of a retort.*

I- I rather think it would be wise to get back on topic, don't you? Sally, didn't you want to see Peter transform at some point?

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*Sally grins.*

This is on topic, dear. After all, I think I get to decide what "on topic" is?

*She's been watching Peter closely during their stories, even amidst all the giggling, and she's convinced now that the man is just as human as he ever was, and just as harmless. (To the children, at least. She imagines he's still just as harmful to Tories.)

Still, much as she might regret cutting her chatting with Peter short, John probably has a point about moving on with things. She doesn't want to make herself a nuisance to Peter.

She turns back to the man on the bed.*

I don't want to outstay my welcome or tire you out. Shall I come back tomorrow? Or we can keep chatting if you like. I don't have to be back upstairs for a while.

Edited Date: 2012-09-17 07:41 pm (UTC)

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Sally, if you are willing to share more of these anecdotes, then I have hours at my disposal.

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Sally, we do have to get back home some time this week. I am sure Peter doesn't want to hear all the embarrassing stories you have on me in one go, at least.

If you're reassured that Peter is safe when he's in human form, then why not ask him to transform so you can see how he behaves when he's in the body of the wolf? Wouldn't that be a more productive use of the time?

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*Sally gets up so she can put her hands on her hips and glare down her nose at John.*

John Simon Bercow, if you think I'm just going to demand that Peter transform into a wolf, then you have another think coming. You might be so rude, but I am having a perfectly lovely time with Peter, and if he doesn't feel like transforming tonight, I will continue to have a perfectly lovely time until I and Peter decide that it's time for me to leave. I fail to see how it's your business in the slightest. You do not own me!

*Hearing the last sentence echo around the cell, she winces. That was ... not something she should have said.

She attempts to save the situation.*

Besides, I think that if Peter's going to transform - whether now or in the future - he should be able to get out of this stuffy little cell and into the fresh air. Surely there's got to be a top-secret place somewhere where we could go? You're always bragging about how you know all the top Army blokes. If it's dark, we could take him somewhere deserted and let him run around a bit.

*She turns to tell Peter in a confidential tone -*

If I had been cooped up in here this long, I would have gone for his throat by now. You have remarkable control.

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*Peter's face goes carefully blank at the mention of ownership. He swings his legs up onto the bed, folds his hands over his stomach and waits, expectantly.*

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I was merely suggesting that we try and fulfil the aims of your trip here this evening before the babysitter leaves.

It was a suggestion, Sally!

If you think, in the long run, that spending all evening gossiping with Peter about my faults is a far more valuable use of your time, then by all means go ahead. However, I would just point out that the longer you spend swapping the tales, the longer you have to wait to see if you can find it in you to trust Peter to be around our children, something I know you, Peter, I and the children are keen to resolve post haste.

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*Argh. The man is so infuriating sometimes.*

Thank you for your suggestions, John, they are duly noted.

*She turns her nose up at him and swivels to look at Peter. The man looks like one of her children, sitting quietly on the bed, and she immediately feels guilty for fighting in front of him. That's the last thing Peter needs, more drama.

She gentles her voice.*

What do you want to do, Peter? It's completely up to you. Please don't listen to John, he's being a dick.

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*Peter smirks from under his fringe at John, then compoes his face and turns to Sally.*

I am perfectly happy to provide a... demonstration of the wolf form, though not the act of transformation itself, today, however...

*He glares at John.*

...in future more freedom to roam would definitely be appreciated.

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*Sally smiles at him.*

That would be lovely, but only if you want to. Should I go out, or is the bathroom big enough?

*She lets her smile take on a wicked edge.*

And don't worry about the future. If I'd realised...I will make sure John finds a way to give you a bit more freedom.

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The bathroom will be fine.

*He favours Sally with a friendly smile, and John a smug nod as he passes.

Once inside the bathroom, he leans the door just to (paws can't handle door handles terribly well), strips off, folding each item of clothing and placing it carefully on the toilet lid, then takes a deep breath and summons up the part of him that prefers four legs to two.

It is difficult- the new moon was only two days ago and the wolf form is still very small and very weak; It takes a lot of persuasion to wake it up. If Peter hadn't practiced the transformation extensively by now, he doubts he would be able to do so at all. Eventually though, his claws and fur begin to grow and he runs through the now familiar sequence of changes as he transforms from man to wolf.

Shaking himself off, he uses a paw to poke the door open and pads out to meet Sally and John.*

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*As Sally waits - rather longer than she'd expected - she's surprised to find herself more than a little nervous. She hadn't been at all nervous last time. But now, waiting in a werewolf's cell, with John nearby but still a ways away from her, her nerves are beginning to race.

And then Peter steps out in his wolf form.

He's beautiful, is her first thought. Scary, yes...but beautiful.

She clears her throat.*

Peter?

Edited Date: 2012-09-17 08:39 pm (UTC)

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*Peter wags his tail and whines happily, then wanders over to the bed, leaps up onto the spot he vacated only ten minutes before and curls up to sleep. The transformation at this time of month still takes far too much out of him and he is very tired.*

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*Sally holds her ground as the wolf pads past her and jumps up on the bed. It certainly doesn't seem to be a danger to her.

She plucks up her courage and steps closer, then reaches out her hand to stroke his head.

His fur is soft under her hand, and he does not snap at her. He could be a big fluffy dog - but for the lycanthropy surging through his veins, she reminds herself sadly.*

Good night, Peter. I'll let you sleep now.

*She hasn't really been able to spend enough time with the wolf to know whether or not he's safe, although even in this short time she's leaning towards yes. But she does need more time, and besides, using it as a lever against John will mean she has a good chance of getting Peter out of the Palace for a bit. After this long cooped up, he's sure to need it.

She strokes him one last time.*

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*Peter snoozes, oblivious.*

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