lost boy (BatSpider and Scorbus)

ϟ bullshitty conventions ϟ

"Next week we will venture further into your minds by starting to unfog crystal balls!" Professor Trelawney says in floaty kind of way, waving her hands about at the front of the class.
"Albus, pass me the cloak." Peter whispers to his friend.
Albus snaps out of his daydream. "What? The lesson hasn't finished yet."
"Just give it here. Change of plan." Peter tells him.
Albus takes out the Invisibility Cloak from his bag and passes Peter it under the table. Peter quickly stuffs it under his shirt then puts his hand up.
Trelawney goes wild when she spots him. "Yes, Peter. Were you wondering about the confusion that is clouding your mind?" She asks.
Peter shakes his head. "Erm... No. I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom."
Trelawney nods, her gigantic glasses shaking. "Yes, yes." She tells him.
"I'll see you in the Great Hall." He whispers to Albus and Scorpius before leaving them.
His friends watch him curiously as he goes to the hatch and opens it up.
"Boy!" Trelawney suddenly shouts out. "Stay away from the left corridor on the Seventh floor, that thing you are dreading is waiting for you there." She tells Peter, nodding again and pointing at him carefully.
"Okaaaay." Peter says. He closes the hatch behind him and climbs down the ladder. That was exactly where he was going. Besides Peter wasn't dreading anything, in fact he was rather excited.
Peter puts the Invisibility Cloak over himself and takes out the Map and activates it. He walks through the corridors to the troll tapestry and stares suspicious at the wall the door had appeared on last week. Wherever Bruce kept going had a very secret entrance that he just couldn't figure out. The look on Bruce's face when he came out of the door last week had only strengthened Peter's need to talk to him. And find out where the bloody hell he goes!
Peter waits and waits until eventually the other Students start pouring out of Divination. He watches Bruce's name on the Map turn away from his group and come towards him. Albus and Scorpius stop briefly and stare in his direction but continue on towards the Great Hall with the others. Soon it's just him and Bruce. He watches as he gets closer and closer and prays the cloak still worked. Bruce turns the corner and walks right past Peter, not noticing him. Bruce walks along the wall three times, on the third the door fades into existence. He pushes the door open and goes in, Peter runs quickly to get through before the door closes.
A Brown couch and armchair sit in the centre of a dimly lit room. A dark and cold feeling has been cast around, making Peter shiver. Bruce slumps down on the couch and pulls off his bag and cloak. He pulls up both his shirt sleeves, revealing burn marks dotted up his arms. Peter's eyes widen. Bruce gets up and goes into a corner, he picks up a piece of fabric and stuffs it under his arm. When he turns back to the couch a coffee table has appeared in front of it. He unfolds the canvas and spreads it out onto the tables. A smartly dressed man and woman blink and cough up at him.
The woman breaths a sigh of relief. "Thank god, Bruce. We thought you'd never comeback." She gasps.
Bruce sits back down and pulls the couch closer to the table. "What? Did you think I'd killed myself or something? Sorry, Mom, not this time." He mumbles. He rest his elbow on the table and sticks his chin into the palm of his hand.
Carefully Peter sits down on the floor opposite him, just peering over the table. He makes sure the cloak keeps him fully concealed. He notices Bruce's face has become dark, emptier, like he's wiped off this facade and a whole over guy is underneath.
"We'd never think that." The woman tells him.
"How has your week being son?" The man asks.
Bruce shrugs. "Same as always. People don't notice me. Me and my friends are arseholes. Same old, same old."
The man, Mr Wayne, shakes his head. "Just stop being so negative Bruce. I'm sure theres something good you've done this week." He says, stroking his moustache.
Bruce scowls at him. "Stop being so negative? That's your sage words of advice. Well fucking done Dad." He mutters, reaching for the corner of the canvas.
"Don't Bruce. Let us talk!" Mrs Wayne screams out of the painting.
"Bruce. I'm sorry." Mr Wayne says calmly. "I've never got the chance to tell you, what it takes to be a man. You've got to be a little bad to do good. I don't think you understand that. Stop coming, Bruce. Yes, men are bad and you are too. Go out there and move on from us and stop being... stop being so weak. Make us proud."
Bruce fixes him with a brutal stare and he bits his lip. Peter can tell he's trying not to cry. "Wow, your full of great advice today aren't you? Maybe your right. Screw you. I don't need you." Bruce angrily screws up the canvas and throws it away. He lays his head back and let's himself cry. Peter sits there and watches. The room is quite, he isn't even sobbing or whimpering, tears just roll down his face, silently, like Bruce himself always has been.
Bruce takes out his wand and points it to his arm. "Incendio." He throws his head back, his face squirms and clutches his eyes shut. "Incendio." His skin flares and tenses.
Peter tugs the cloak off himself and leaps over the table. He pulls the wand from Bruce's grasp. "Bruce! Your could seriously hurt yourself." He tells him.
Bruce glares venomously at him. "What on earth are you doing here?" He shouts, aggressively shoving at Peter.
Peter falls backwards off the couch and cracks his head off the coffee table, he lands flat on the stone floor with smack. "Ow." He murmurs.
Bruce towers over him. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" He shouts. "You filthy little creep!" He snatches up his wand from Peter's hand and points it at him.
Peter shields his face with his hands. "Woah woah. It's okay, Bruce, you don't need to do that. I don't mean no trouble." He tells him, his voice shaking a little.
Bruce isn't able to cast a spell. He breaks down, dropping his wand and collapsing onto the couch.
Peter sits up and feels the back of his head, he draws away blood. He smiles at Bruce.
"Leave! Just go!" Bruce shouts at him. He puts his head in his hands and cries again.
Peter crawls up and sits beside him. "I won't tell anyone, about this place or what you just did." He tells Bruce, calmly. Bruce ignores him, continuing to cry. He puts his hand on his shoulder but he shrugs it off. "I wanna help. Just tell me what's going on." Bruce turns his body away so his back is facing Peter. "Bruce, I notice. Your quiet and you only laugh when Zabini wants you to and you never join in with the teasing. Your different. Your not like Zabini and the others. And that man, he's wrong. Your not bad. I don't believe anyone is." He tells him. He reaches into Bruce's lap and takes his hand and squeezes it tight. The muscles in Bruce's back shake. "Those are your parents right? You must miss them. Do they send you owls often?" He asks.
"They're dead." Bruce replies, his voice a quiver.
Peter nods sorrowfully. "Oh. Wow. Mine too. My Uncle Ben died late last year, he looked after me most of my life. I can see why you come here so often, to see them."
Bruce turns to him. "Mine died five years ago, right before I came here."
Peter squeezes his hand again. "Deaths one of the bullshitest conventions of life."