The room was rather cozy. There was one full sized bed, a wooden dresser, and a little table with several chairs. Peter did not have a great sleep in the room, but at least it was not a fitful night, which was what he had been experiencing lately.
He cleaned himself up in the small bathroom attached to his room, dressed, and went down the stairs. He plunked himself down at the counter.
Blenkinsop seemed to appear out of nowhere from under the counter. “Good morning,” he said smilingly.
A part of Peter wanted to smack that smile right off the older man’s face, but instead he forced himself to smile politely back. “Hello.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“Well, I’m leaving today, but I’ll have a breakfast before I go on my way.”
Blenkinsop nodded and handed him a menu with roughly five food items on it. Peter ordered some eggs, and the pub owner cheerfully fixed some up.
After the barman placed the food in front of him, Peter began eating steadily. He was surprised at how hungry he found himself; he hadn’t been eating right in days due to his inadequate feelings. With a new hearty appetite, he finished the eggs with record speed, and then ordered a large plate of sausages.
What’s this, Peter “ think you’re going to become great by getting fatter?
The thought made his fork hover uncertainly for a moment over his sausage links, but then he speared a piece and shoved it in his mouth. He may be un-great, he decided, but not eating wasn’t going to help him any. How the hell could he become great if he starved to death?
As Peter continued pursuing his food, he observed the other people in the bar. There was a dark-skinned woman who was quite obviously pregnant sitting at one of the corner tables. Two shabby looking men were sitting several tables away, hunched over their mugs of tea and occasionally speaking in dreary tones to one another. And there was another lone figure a few seats away from him at the counter, whom was so thickly wrapped in robes and coats that Peter could not tell what gender they were.
Then he looked over at Blenkinsop, who was idly sitting on a stool behind the counter, scribbling things down on a clip board. After several moments, Blenkinsop glanced up and caught Peter watching him. Peter blushed and focused his eyes firmly on his food.
“Do you “ um “ get a good business?” he asked in a flustered tone, instantly realizing how rude this question was. What was his business how well this man was doing?
If Blenkinsop minded being asked a rather personal question, he did not show it. “Customer activity comes and goes, as with any job,” he replied easily.
Peter nodded, still feeling the warm tinge in his cheeks. “Have you, er, worked here long?”
“Since this place opened,” Blenkinsop said. “I began the business, and I plan to continue it. Might not be the most steady income, but I enjoy it.”
“You enjoy it?” Peter repeated stupidly.
“Yes, very much. Should I not?”
“Oh, no, you should,” said Peter hastily. “You definitely should “ I mean, you shouldn’t if you don’t, but since you do “ “ Good Merlin, what was he rambling on about? “ “ I’m glad you like it,” he finished, hoping he had managed to save his dignity at least a bit. “I think it’s great when people find something they want to do with their life that feels meaningful to them.”
Blenkinsop smiled, and ran a finger over his stubbled chin. “Yes, it is.”
“Did you always know what you wanted to do?”
Blenkinsop considered the young man before him for a moment, before saying, “No, not really. I spent a few years merely figuring out what I wanted to do with my life.”
“And “ how did you know when you’d figured it out?”
Blenkinsop was silent. He remained silent for so long, simply studying Peter, that the younger male began to wonder if he had crossed the line on personal questions. But he found that he truly wanted to know the answer, as though Blenkinsop would somehow reveal what the answer would be for him. So he kept his eyes firmly, boldly, on the barman’s, and waited.
“I’m not quite sure. I think you just know. You just somehow know that this is what you want to do, this is who you want to be. Everything should just seem clear.”
So much for helpful. What good were those lame, poetic words? They weren’t going to help him figure out anything. It was time to go.
Peter finished up his sausages and moved to go up the staircase to pack his things. As he was pulling out the key to his room, a familiar face emerged from the room next door.
Severus Snape’s features molded into a lazy smirk. “Pettigrew,” he greeted. “How very…unexpected…to see you here.”
“The same to you,” said Peter, tucking the key back into his pocket and turning to face Snape. “What brings you here?”
Snape’s eyes gleamed as he looked down his hooked nose at Peter. “I am here on business matters.”
“Business matters, eh, Snape?” Peter leered. “What would that mean?”
“As much as I would love to chat with a intellect such as yourself, I must be going,” said Snape. “I have matters that need attending to, and I happen to have a important dinner meeting scheduled tonight. Now if you will excuse me…” Snape brushed past Peter and swept down the stairs.
Peter’s eyes followed the other man down the stairs until he could see him no more. Peter then went back down the stairs curiously.
Just as he finished descending the steps, he saw Snape open the main door to the pub and slip out. The door swung shut behind him.
Peter’s mind was racing. If Snape was speaking the truth, that meant that he had clearly found something to do with his life. And clearly an important something, if he had a dinner meeting. How had that greasy git secured a job, a life, like that?
That was it. That was it. If that bastard could do it, so could he. He was going to find something meaningful, something purposeful, for his life.
The how was what he had to work on.
Peter stood staring blankly at the door, thousands of half-formed ideas flowing through his head. Then, on a whim, he moved towards the counter where Blenkinsop stood.
“Mr. Waterbut,” said Peter, “I think I’m going to be staying another night.”