Coupling (2011)
Steve was sitting beside the Black Lake, trying to capture the way the sun was setting in the distance on parchment while he still had the light. Sam had been with him for a while before Clint pulled him away to practice for their last match—for the first time since they’d started at Hogwarts, Hufflepuff was in the playoffs against Slytherin, so they had a lot to prepare for. It was probably for the best: Steve had trouble drawing with an audience sometimes. He’d been accustomed to Bucky watching over his shoulder, but anyone else just made him feel insecure about the quality of his art. He knew he was pretty good in the objective sense, it was just that he liked to have a piece finished before people started critiquing it.
So, when Peggy plopped down on the grass beside him looking about ready to keel over, Steve resigned himself to not getting done this particular sunset today. He could always try again tomorrow.
“You look exhausted,” he observed sympathetically. It was to be expected: Peggy was in her fifth year and had been going through the process of taking her O.W.L.s for the last two weeks. That didn’t exactly bode well for trivial things like sleeping or eating, and she’d been skipping out on meals with them more often than not recently. Steve knew where her favorite place in the library to study was, though, so he tried to bring her something as often as he could and usually stayed to see if she needed help.
Smiling, Peggy shrugged her shoulders listlessly. “I’m just glad that’s over.”
“How was it?”
“I swear, the one time I don’t brush up on Color-Change Charms is of course when they want me to perform one,” she snorted with a roll of her eyes. “Honestly, it’s like they watch to see what we’re out of practice on and put that on the test.”
“I’m sure you passed anyway. It’s not like they’ll fail you for missing one spell,” he pointed out reasonably. He decided not to say, And if they do, they’re assholes. That wouldn’t help anything.
“Oh, no,” she laughed in a slightly hysterical manner. “I managed the spell perfectly.” When Steve frowned uncomprehendingly, she elucidated, “I simply cast it on the wrong target.”
Steve’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t.”
“I did. The examiner looked excellent with bright orange hair. I’m not sure what she got her nose out of joint about.”
Guffawing, Steve covered his face with his hands. He wasn’t sure at first if he was supposed to find that funny, but when he glanced up to see a humorous smirk on Peggy’s face, he figured it was all right. Still, he felt the need to commiserate, “That’s awful. Guess she just can’t appreciate a good thing.”
“Apparently not,” Peggy agreed with a sniff.
She filled him in on the rest of her exams as the sun steadily moved toward the western horizon, complaining about the ridiculous feats they were expected to perform and the odd questions on the written portion that didn’t make any sense as something that could potentially happen in real life. Steve listened carefully, taking mental notes for when he had to do the same thing next year. He wasn’t altogether concerned about how he would do; his grades were fine, and magic had always come pretty easy to him (once it eventually showed up). He was more concerned with the stress Sam would put himself through when it came time and, to a lesser extent, how Clint would handle things as well. They were already at a disadvantage living in Muggle households, and the former had been asking dozens of questions to prepare early. Clint was his usual lackadaisical self, but Steve knew him better by now than to think he wasn’t at least internally kind of nervous. If they didn’t get certain grades on their O.W.L. exams, they couldn’t continue to take particular classes, and none of them wanted to be that kid.
By the time she finished regaling him with Tony’s brilliant idea to demonstrate the workings of one of his inventions to the examiners as a show of what he was capable of (more like a show off, but that was Stark for you), it was almost time for dinner. They didn’t go inside, though, since it appeared that she still had more to say but was having a difficult time getting it out.
“Are you okay?” inquired Steve gently after the third or fourth time she opened her mouth only to close it again.
With a strained smile, Peggy nodded before replying, “I wanted to thank you for your help. You honestly didn’t have to spend all those nights quizzing me in the library when you’ve got other things to be doing.”
“Oh, well…” Steve shrugged, brushing his hair off his forehead with a shrug. “I mean, it’s what anyone would’ve done.”
“I think the obvious lack of people doing so probably indicates the opposite,” commented Peggy wryly. Did she scoot closer when he looked away or was he imagining things?
“Okay, yeah, but you’ve helped me practice for Quidditch before.”
Snorting delicately, Peggy countered, “I hardly think tossing you the Quaffle after you drop it counts as helping you practice.”
“I’m ju—“
“Steve.”
His jaw snapped shut and he felt his eyebrows shooting skyward as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. She hadn’t done that since he was a first year and got in fights with Hodge, although he hadn’t been sure back then if it was because she liked him or was so frustrated with his stubbornness (he was a big enough person to admit it, no pun intended) that she couldn’t think of anything else to do. The latter was admittedly unlikely or else Bucky would probably have tried to make out with him at some point, but it was what his mind came up with so there was that.
This being the second time she’d kissed him didn’t keep his brain from short-circuiting, though.
Peggy rolled her eyes when he just gaped at her. “For the record, that wasn’t a thank you kiss.”
Steve just continued to stare stupidly at her like she may have lost her mind—or he did.
“A week next Saturday, at the Three Broomsticks,” she ordered, getting to her feet and holding her hand out to help him up. Steve staggered upright while she laced their fingers together. “Two o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”
“Is—are—“ Steve shook his head. “You mean, like…like a date?”
“Was that not what I just said?”
“Well, I mean, we always go to Hogsmeade together anyway, so I just wanted to ma—“
He was cut off when Peggy’s lips crashed into his, grunting in surprise before returning the gesture. Was he returning it? He thought he was returning it—he’d never really done this before, so how the fuck was he supposed to know if he was kissing her back or if he was just standing there and she’d think he wasn’t interested or was he doing it wrong and there was more to it than just sucking—
It wasn’t until Peggy broke the kiss and he blinked his eyes open—when had he closed them?—that he realized he appeared to have done it right. That or she just had really low expectations, so…tossup.
“You still have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” she observed quietly, a tiny smile on her lips.
Steve scratched the back of his neck bashfully. “Talking to you that day on the train was kinda the first conversation I’d had with one, so…”
“Well,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Nobody’s perfect.”
Nobody but Peggy Carter anyway—who Steve Rogers was going on a date with. He figured it was probably best that Clint never found out she was the one to ask (actually, order was probably more appropriate) lest he be subjected to the heckling of the century. He wouldn’t try to figure out what she saw in him when she could get anyone in the world and they’d be lucky to have her. For once, he would just let her take the reins and bask in the glory that was being deemed worthy by someone he knew cared about him as they walked back to the castle hand in hand, feeling better than he had in a long time.