[He won't relax completely just because Petre seems to have calmed - he's trusted a few too many times in this conversation and gotten burned for it every time. But he does soften a bit.]
['We'. Like John's ever made any kind of promise to Petre, like he hasn't to drag it all out of John like they were fighting to extract teeth.]
No. You just need to not have it.
[The bitterness is returning, though. In his eyes there's a subsided anger that doesn't translate in the line of his lips. Looking at John from a lower level, like an animal deciding whether or not it's going to strike. With a frown he sets his jaw, lips full and pursed.
He knows what's going to happen. The second the order is off John's running out to tell all his friends. Go to them and leave him. Again.
[It's a real effort not to sag with relief when he feels the order hit him, that strange shifting of his thoughts like gears reversing of their own accord.
It's over. He did it.
And once again, there's very little satisfaction, because Petre almost looks hurt beneath all that anger. It's not possible, not something he feels at all, but John can't help seeing it. There's no winning in this, not if Petre only shows his weakness when John refuses something he has every right to refuse - it's there, he has to acknowledge it, but it's still selfish and unfair. So why does it eat at him?]
Go clean up. Want me to grab you something from the kitchen? [He is a regular kitchen raider, after all, and it's one of the few things on which they give him a pass. It's some way he can - not apologise, there's no fucking reason to apologise, or thank him. He doesn't know why he wants to do it.]
[it's a groan of sorts, bringing a hand up to rub at his eye heavily. Maybe he's getting a headache. Something Harry could help him with. If they let Petre go anywhere. But he never asked for permission to leave his room, he wasn't going to start now.]
Go.
[He turns and walks back into the bathroom. Shuts the door behind him. It's going to be quiet in there. No rustling of fabric, no water running. Just quiet.]
[Chasing him away again. What if he stayed, just once, to find out if Petre really does have any weakness? If he constantly does this because he needs time to break down in some way, reveal the emotion he denies?
Maybe he will, but not this time. He's come dangerously, dangerously close to giving in. He needs the distance as much as Petre does.
He opens his mouth to say something, but then Petre's disappearing back into the bathroom, and he doesn't want to shout it - it's not intended to be harsh, for once. All he wanted to do was tell Petre to get some sleep. Instead, he slips out the door.]
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no subject
You don't need it. We don't need it.
no subject
No. You just need to not have it.
[The bitterness is returning, though. In his eyes there's a subsided anger that doesn't translate in the line of his lips. Looking at John from a lower level, like an animal deciding whether or not it's going to strike. With a frown he sets his jaw, lips full and pursed.
He knows what's going to happen. The second the order is off John's running out to tell all his friends. Go to them and leave him. Again.
(When did he ever said he'd stay?)]
Forget what I said.
[There.]
no subject
It's over. He did it.
And once again, there's very little satisfaction, because Petre almost looks hurt beneath all that anger. It's not possible, not something he feels at all, but John can't help seeing it. There's no winning in this, not if Petre only shows his weakness when John refuses something he has every right to refuse - it's there, he has to acknowledge it, but it's still selfish and unfair. So why does it eat at him?]
Go clean up. Want me to grab you something from the kitchen? [He is a regular kitchen raider, after all, and it's one of the few things on which they give him a pass. It's some way he can - not apologise, there's no fucking reason to apologise, or thank him. He doesn't know why he wants to do it.]
no subject
[it's a groan of sorts, bringing a hand up to rub at his eye heavily. Maybe he's getting a headache. Something Harry could help him with. If they let Petre go anywhere. But he never asked for permission to leave his room, he wasn't going to start now.]
Go.
[He turns and walks back into the bathroom. Shuts the door behind him. It's going to be quiet in there. No rustling of fabric, no water running. Just quiet.]
no subject
Maybe he will, but not this time. He's come dangerously, dangerously close to giving in. He needs the distance as much as Petre does.
He opens his mouth to say something, but then Petre's disappearing back into the bathroom, and he doesn't want to shout it - it's not intended to be harsh, for once. All he wanted to do was tell Petre to get some sleep. Instead, he slips out the door.]