Rather well. It’s where I’m at mainly.
Who ought I be asking for, then, with all of this? It’s difficult to figure out who it is I should be trusting. I haven’t--- You never know anymore, do you?
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@hestiajonesing
Rather well. It’s where I’m at mainly.
Who ought I be asking for, then, with all of this? It’s difficult to figure out who it is I should be trusting. I haven’t--- You never know anymore, do you?
I did not expect you to. I am here to ask you to reconsider security.
Well, I would like to, certainly, but my mother’s made it perfectly clear that she has no intentions of going back to that house, even once it’s been repaired. At least, not to live, and not for a very long time. I don’t know where I’ll be heading once I’m released. We. That’s an important factor when it comes to security, is it not? What it is, exactly, you’re securing?
for what it’s worth || pt. 3
“Ten fingers and ten toes. You were right.”
Hestia opened her eyes to find her mother standing in the door. Ever since Healer Smith had put her under, she’d stayed quiet and still, zapped of all energy as she allowed the healers to tend to her wounds. Already, she was feeling better, even if the effects of the potion still made her groggy. It wasn’t as if they would let her do anything if she wasn’t, so she wasted no time being bitter over the fact. Instead, she blinked herself into consciousness and propped herself up against her pillows.
“Come again?”
“I said you were right,” Mrs. Jones repeated, her smile nearly eliminating the bags layered beneath her eyes. “Ten fingers and ten toes. They’re all there. You were right.”
And suddenly, as if realizing it for the first time, Hestia remembered--
“The baby.”
“Would you like to meet her?”
for what it’s worth || pt. 2
It was odd, waking up in an odorless, sterile room instead of to the smell of someone else’s reheated cooking. The casseroles that had been left in the Jones’ kitchen after Cillian Bartlett’s death had long since vanished, but the tragedies Megan and Lucas had left in their wake had made up for the loss. Hestia hadn’t realized how routine the meals had become until she realized there wasn’t one in the oven, its absence recovered only by a dripping IV.
That was when the panic set in.
for what it’s worth || pt. 1
"Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes.” Hestia poked her stomach gently. “I won’t need to count them once it’s here. I’ve felt them all already, I just know it.”
“I imagine you have, from the look of you,” Mrs. Jones nodded from the fireplace, quietly so as not to wake the sleeping Alexander resting against her shoulder. “I wish you hadn’t wasted yesterday afternoon out at that bakery. I know you have a month left, nearly, but I’m afraid we won’t have anything ready in time. You look like you could go any day.”
Anyone who had assumed Hestia’s pregnancy was an accidental result of coping after her breakup with Remus would have thought the same. Hestia’s stomach had become large and hung low. She swallowed back the desire to tell her mother that she should be going into labor any day now. The longer the both of them could pretend they weren’t vastly unprepared, the less stressful the last of Hestia’s pregnancy would be.
And stress wasn’t good for the baby, was it?
gawainsworld:
Because we do not know whether it was intentional with specific reason, a mistake, or simply that they knew you possess a fortune in that vault. All possibility still leaves the fact that your vault is now tied to their doing. There is the possibility, Jones, that she was working for them knowing just what she was doing, but I do not believe that. That does not add up in the slightest. I can rule out the intention given that Megan never got out. No one was with her from the beginning, to allow that possibility.
What would they want with my vault? I’m not even sure there’s anything inside it besides money.
gawainsworld:
Were you aware of Megan’s plans in any form or fashion, prior to finding the letter?
Erm--- no. I mean, yes, that she was...
She told me she was going to Gringotts. She asked why I hadn’t ever gone to see what Cillian had left me, and I told her I--- I told her I didn’t have any interest in it, and that I wouldn’t go with her. I didn’t know that she intended to go and see it for herself.
gawainsworld:
Good evening. You keep getting into trouble more and more as the days go on, do you not, Miss Jones?
I wouldn’t know. This is the second time you’ve come into my home knowing more than I do, Mr. Robards, and I don’t appreciate it being held it over my head.
Are you going to let me in the loop now, or would you like to schedule a few more minutes to ridicule a pregnant woman for sport? Because if so, I’d like to at least make us a cup of tea while you do.
Gone Girl || Closed
Megan Jones, as it turned out, was a peaceful tenant. She left early in the morning, hardly ever waiting until the end of breakfast, and rarely returned before the end of dinner every evening. Mrs. Jones made a number of remarks regarding her absence, always cheerful, the pleasure that came with her niece’s many disappearances bubbling up and over the top of every comment. With Grace back at Hogwarts, though, there was no buffer, and so Hestia kept quiet--- a terrible feat, given the state of aching body.
Hestia had spent most of her time quietly in bed from the time she got off work Sunday evening, reading and knitting (the latter with great difficulty) between bouts of sleep. She had only been disturbed three times--- twice to be brought food, and another early Monday morning, when Megan shook her from her slumber.
“I didn’t know he gave you money.”
ameliaboners
I suppose you chose not to know the gender.
I don’t know about a choice. I suppose I just never considered it. Is that strange, not to consider it?
ameliaboners
Do you think, maybe, that’s what everyone says?
It very well might be.
I haven’t thought of a name yet.
ameliaboners
Huh, interesting to hear. Well, who knows? When are due dates really certain? Greta was early by a couple weeks when she – I’ll get the tea.
– When you feel those kicks, what goes through your head?
Oh, but I’m not ready yet. And that’s exactly what goes through my head. I’m not ready yet.
ameliaboners:
I meant, when do you expect them to be born? Can you feel it coming with that mother’s intuition? I don’t quite know when that kicks in.
Well, to be perfectly honest, I think the intuition is a hoax. An old wives’ tale, so to speak. The only new things I’ve felt are kicks and punches and an awful lot of pressure.
They’re saying near the end of February, which means I’ve got nearly a whole month to go.
ameliaboners:
Speaking of, when about do those poor things get a rest once and for all?
When I come home from work, I suppose.
ameliaboners:
Because I feel like being the proper friend right now.
If you insist. You should know, though, that I’m only allowing it because my ankles.
ameliaboners:
Could I get you some tea to wash them down?
Why don’t you let me be a proper host and get some myself?
ameliaboners:
I could do just that. especially if you’ll snack on these biscuits with me.
You’ve come to the right place.