Seventy-Seven

POV Oliver

"Hello," Oliver said hesitantly as he recognised Peter. "I didn't think this day could get any crazier."

"For once, I have to agree with you," Margaret said.

Oliver and Margaret looked at the man standing rooted to the spot on the doorstep. If the situation hadn't been so surreal, Oliver would have laughed at the sight. The man must have been nearly two metres tall and was clearly in excellent shape, yet there he stood, frozen in front of a nun and a ten-year-old—like a deer caught in a car's headlights.

"I-I… Hello, Oliver," he stammered, visibly nervous.

"Mr Collins, how about we let you inside first?" Oliver interrupted him before turning to Margaret. "Can you leave us alone?"

Margaret gave him a searching look. She didn't seem to like the idea of leaving Oliver and Peter alone at all.

"Please," Oliver repeated.

"I'll make you both some tea," she finally said and headed towards the kitchen.

Oliver led Peter into the living room, where he sat down on the sofa and gestured towards the armchair opposite.

"Mr Collins—"

"Peter—please call me Peter!" he interrupted Oliver.

Oliver looked at him for a moment and nodded before finally asking, "Peter, why are you here?"

"For six years, not a day has gone by without me thinking about the accident. About the day I took your parents—" Peter broke off and took a deep breath. "The day I took your parents away from you."

Oliver listened quietly. He would have been lying if he'd claimed he felt nothing. In front of him sat a man who had spent six years blaming himself for the deaths of two people.

"I made you a promise that day. A promise not to leave you alone," Peter continued.

Oliver continued to listen. He wasn't going to interrupt him. Peter seemed to be struggling enough as it was.

"I know that what I did can never be forgiven!" he finally said, lifting his head and looking Oliver straight in the eyes. "But I want to do everything I can to make up for it!"

"Peter?" Oliver said softly. "Did you know I've been taking courses at the University of Oxford since I was seven? One of those courses is psychology, and I'm proud to say that my mentor is one of the most respected experts in the field."

Peter stared at him in bewilderment.

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"My mentor once told me that guilt can be a pretty useful feeling. It forces us to face our mistakes and take responsibility for them."

Oliver paused briefly and looked at Peter.

"But at some point, guilt can stop serving a purpose."

"You spent six years in prison. And yet you don't say that my parents died in an accident. You say you took them away from me. You say you can never be forgiven, and at the same time, you want to spend the rest of your life trying to make up for something you can't make up for."

Oliver leaned back slightly.

"I don't think you're here because you need my forgiveness."

Peter gave him a questioning look.

"I think you're here to punish yourself."

"No, that's not true—" Peter tried to defend himself.

Oliver raised a hand and cut him off.

"Why are you here? Margaret already told you in her letter that I don't blame you and don't need an apology from you. So why are you here?" Oliver asked.

Peter fell silent. His mouth opened briefly, but no words came out.

Several minutes passed, and Oliver could see that Peter was trying to find an answer for himself.

"I don't know," he finally said quietly, lowering his gaze.

Oliver remained silent, giving him the time he clearly needed.

"For six years, I thought I knew. I'd come here, apologise to you and keep my promise. Somehow, I'd try to make up for what I'd done," Peter explained, running both hands over his face.

"That was all I had."

Oliver watched him thoughtfully. For the first time since Peter had appeared at Mill Grove, the large man no longer seemed nervous or intimidated.

He just looked lost.

Oliver looked at him thoughtfully and couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Peter had wasted six years of his life because of a boy who might not even exist anymore.

Perhaps that was why Oliver understood him better than he would have liked. He, too, had once lost his entire life and had to start over.

Peter needed a fresh start.

And Oliver could certainly use an adult who didn't constantly question him.

Just then, Margaret returned to the living room with a tray and placed two cups of tea on the table.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, looking between them.

Oliver slowly shook his head. "Grandmother, I have an idea!" he finally said, looking at her hopefully.

She gave him a sceptical look and waited for him to continue. Oliver picked up a cup of tea and looked back at Peter.

"Peter, do you have any plans for your future?" Oliver asked.

Peter looked at him in surprise. He clearly hadn't expected that question.

"Honestly, I never thought beyond this conversation," he said, visibly exhausted. The conversation seemed to have taken a lot out of him.

"Well, apparently I'm going to be rich and famous soon," Oliver said, taking a sip of his tea as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "And rich and famous people need bodyguards."

Margaret was already raising an eyebrow.

"I also need a driver," Oliver continued undeterred, briefly looking Peter over. "You know how to drive, and you look like you could stop someone from getting on my nerves."

Peter stared at him.

"What?"

"I'm offering you a job."

***

After Peter had left to think about Oliver's offer, Margaret gave Oliver a sceptical look.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Margaret asked.

"I don't know. But you wrote to him yourself that God forgives anyone who sincerely repents."

Margaret looked at him for a moment, but still didn't seem entirely convinced.

"Besides, they're going to insist I have a nanny on set anyway. Or do you want to be there while we're filming?" Oliver added.

She looked at him as though he were the biggest idiot in the world.

"Of course I'll be there!" she said, as though having a seventy-seven-year-old nun on the set of Harry Potter were perfectly normal.

"What about Mill Grove?" he asked, unsure whether he should be pleased or worried about his nun coming with him.

"I'm seventy-seven. It's time to slow down a little," she said dryly.

Oliver stared at her in shock.

Oh, so she did know how old she was! And what did she mean, slowing down?

Slowing down on the set of Harry Potter?