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8

Neverland AU ♔ The First Lost Boy (500 Years Ago)
“Well, Killian, take my hand. Adventure awaits!”

whatever a moon has always meant (prompt fill)

This got so wildly out of hand i love it. Thank you so much for this prompt.

Hogwarts AU with Hufflepuff!Wolf!Felix, Ravenclaw!Peter, Slytherin!Wendy, and Gryffindor!Henry. Platonic ot4-ness, with clear co-dependancy issues because these four don’t know any other way to roll.

Word Count: 1791 (people, do not expect this amount for the other prompts. this one completely got away from me)

***

For as long as they have been together, they have spent their time in the Hufflepuff common room.

Peter and Felix take to each other like moths to flames and neither are sure which is which, only that they burn through the school like fiendfyre, Peter howling at the walls and the rules and the bloody tie around his neck like a noose, Felix at his back. Eleven years old and ruthless, they sweep through the halls and retire, recoup, reassess, in the warm comfort of Felix’s common room, the firelight and warmth steadying them as they learn fourth year charms to heal their bruises, seventh year spells to hurt.

Twelve years old and still ruthless, still wild, they are witness to perfect pureblooded Slytherin Wendy Darling, with her corkscrew curls and her porcelain skin, throwing her wand to the side and delivering a cruel punch to the mouth of an older girl with a sneer on her face and mudblood on her mouth, and they decide.

Peter doesn’t take well to the Slytherin common room, cut off from the sky, too used to the stomach-roiling heights of the Ravenclaw Tower which Wendy hates, so they return to the earthy Hufflepuff common room, where Felix teaches Wendy how to throw a punch without hurting herself, how to take one to throw back three in quick succession; nose, kidneys, groin, and Wendy smiles.

Third years now and closer than ever, the summer spent lazy on the grounds of Wendy’s manor house under the watchful and distrusting eyes of her parents, they return to Hogwarts alight. The rest of the school gives them a berth wide enough to fit a hippogriff down and they revel in it, content only with each other.

Until the day Wendy finds herself staring at a second year boy in a Gryffindor tie, who holds his shoulders back and his wand like a sword in the face of a bully, and she is whispering hexes under her breath before she knows what she’s doing, sending the boy’s tormentors scattering across the courtyard with various painful maladies. And the boy stands there, bewildered, until his eyes settle on her and she smiles.

“What is it, pet?” Peter asks, low in her ear.

Him.” She says, decides, and they take Henry Mills for their own.

Henry has no preference for a common room, but he slides into the Hufflepuff common room like he was always there, always theirs.

So they claim the Hufflepuff common room as their own for the next two years, with its deep armchairs big enough for two to sqaush into happily, its warm roaring fires and the wide bubble of space that all Hufflepuffs who are not Felix give them.

(Most Hufflepuffs are not like Felix, do not share his love of all things sharp and wild.)

The thing is, Peter knows, is that the Hufflepuff common room just feels like Felix, the solidity of him that grounds Peter, grounds Wendy, in the oak tables, the constant presence of him in the thick curtains, that always assures Henry. Peter has been spending all his years here since first year but it’s not until the three of them sprawl across the large golden sofa that lies in front of the fire one Friday night, waiting up for Felix to return from his work with Professor Fawn and wake up to find him still not returned, that the comforting embrace of this room that they have always known disappears, cold and empty without Felix walking in, tired and battered from whatever creature Fawn has had him dealing with this week, smiling when he sees them.

Without Felix, it is cold.

Breakfast passes on edge. None of them want to sit at the Hufflepuff table without Felix so they carve out a place at the Ravenclaw one. Peter glares at his housemates who mutter at a Slytherin on their table, the ones who laugh at a Gryffindor sitting with Ravenclaws, clamps down on his fork to stop himself from throwing it. It takes Henry’s hand on his to make him let go, relax.

Wendy watches the door.

Felix does not appear.

Peter has spent five years with Felix at his side, and without him he feels bereft. Wendy has spent four years under his arm and Peter can see she is antsy, reaches out and touches her hand, gentle like he doesn’t really know how to be. Henry has spent three years with Felix at his back, and Peter doesn’t know what to do, pulls Henry into his side and holds him there until the rest of the students have filed out and they are alone with untouched toast and a storm brewing between them.

They do not go to class, tracking down Professor Fawn across the grounds until Wendy can stand in front of her, five feet of fire and concern, demanding for Felix.

“Miss Darling,” comes from behind them, and they whip around. “Mister Pan, Mister Mills.” Madam Blue stands before them in her apron. “Please leave Professor Fawn alone, and come with me.”

“Where is Felix?” Peter says instead, ready to tear the world apart. He can feel Wendy tearing at the seams, feel Henry panicked but determined behind him.

Madam Blue sighs. “The hospital wing.”

Peter takes off at a run, Wendy taking over him in seconds, Henry on his heels, Blue calling behind them.

They crash into the hospital wing, stumble to a halt, because Felix is lying, ashen and so, so still on one of the hospital beds that it punches the wind out of Peter’s chest. Wendy makes a choked-off little cry and Henry’s gasp echoes in the quiet room.

“He’s stable,” Blue’s voice fades in through the ringing in Peter’s ears and he can’t take his eyes off his Felix until her next words register. “Lycanthropy is a difficult disease to live with, the damage he does to himself-”

His eyes snap to her, “What?” hissing out. Madam Blue takes a step back before him.

“Lycanthropy?” Wendy’s voice is quiet, and Peter doesn’t need to look behind him to know that Henry is at her side. “Felix?”

Blue says something but Peter ignores her, turning his back and moving to Felix’s side. Felix is running so warm beneath his hands and for the life of him, Peter can’t remember whether that’s normal. His fingers brush over Felix’s knuckles, sweep up his arms to the lines of healing scars, whitehothealed under his hands even though Peter has never seen them before, healing potions at work.

“What does he need?” He asks, doesn’t recognise his own voice.

“Rest,” Blue says, and Peter hates her so much right now but he listens. “My healing potions never usually take this long but there was more to heal, this month.”

“How long?” Wendy asks, and her voice is firm again, strong. “How long has he…" been like this?

"I’ve been treating him since his first year, but it is my understanding that he was bitten as a child.”

Peter closes his eyes. Since first year. His best friend has been running around the forest every month since they were eleven years old and Peter had no idea

“Go,” He says, and there is a hurricane in his throat, a scream lodged beneath his chin, and if he lets it loose he will wake Felix and that is not something he is willing to do.

“I-”

“Go,” Henry repeats, and Blue leaves them.

“First year,” Peter says into the silence and he sounds hollow. “I didn’t see.”

“None of us did,” Wendy says, agrees, because it is not a comfort.

Felix spends so much time looking after them all, never says anything when he is in pain, and Peter is so angry at him that he can’t think straight. Stupid boy.

They settle into the hospital wing chairs, Wendy curled up against his one side and Henry on the other, and they wait.

The moon is filling the empty room, light streaking across Felix’s sleeping face and highlighting the new scar he has sliced into his chin, the healing potion unable to salve it, when Felix’s pale eyelashes flutter and his eyes open.

Peter watches in silence, unmoving, as Felix shifts, winces, and tries to sit up. He freezes when he sees the three of them, pushed up on his elbows.

Something shutters in Felix’s gaze, like terror, fight or flight, and Peter’s ready to rage into oblivion until it disappears, ready to scream and shout because what else can he do, when Henry just says, “Felix,” so quiet, so soft, and Felix…crumples.

Henry is the softest of them all, loves gently when they do not know how, and that is what gets to Felix now.

It spills out; a night in the woods, teeth and fangs and fur, and Felix the Boy becomes Felix the Wolf; Felix writing letter after letter after letter to Professor Bell begging to be allowed to come to Hogwarts, desperate for it; meeting Peter and feeling pack for the first time; meeting Wendy and the bond intensifying; meeting Henry and the circuit completes.

He glosses over full moons, but explains every lie he’s ever told, unravelling it. It’s the most Felix has ever spoken and his voice is hoarse by the end of it.

Wendy pours him a glass of water, cups his head and tilts it to his lips, and he looks up at her with such surprise that it breaks Peter’s heart.

“She shouldn’t have told you,” Felix says, and for just a second his anger wins out against his contrition, wolf rising, and Peter can’t believe he missed this for five years.

“No, she shouldn’t have,” Peter says, because she shouldn’t have. It was an invasion of privacy, of Felix, and Peter does not forgive, does not forget. He finally unfolds himself from his chair and sits on the side of Felix’s bed, makes sure not to jostle him. He brushes a hand through Felix’s hair, gentle like Henry would. "But you should have.“

Felix doesn’t say anything, can’t, because Peter’s leaning down and pressing a kiss into his lips, chaste and soft, and Felix makes a noise in the back of his throat that kills him. There’s a hand on Peter’s shoulder and he pulls back, lets Wendy take his place, hand to Felix’s cheek, thumb sweeping over the scar that’s always been there, and Wendy’s kiss is just as gentle as Peter’s, pulling another sound from Felix that aches. It is Henry’s kiss that breaks him, slow and quiet. When Henry pulls away, Felix’s eyes are wide. Glittering.

"You are so painfully smart,” Peter says, smiles. “And so awfully stupid.”

Felix smiles, and it’s real.