sunday night dinner || @brilliantbones
“You have to remember to send me that article you were talking to Dad about, when you get the chance,” said Edgar, twisting up the dish towel in his hand and snapping it in Amelia’s direction.
He was standing over the sink, waving his wand over the dirty dishes and watching as they became clean – oh magic, what a tricky and wonderful little thing! – and then drying while they hovered, to nestle in the drying rack for their parents to put away later.
It was the end of another Sunday night dinner, and Sam had already taken off for the evening; Mr. and Mrs. Bones were had been kissed tonight and were curled up with tea and their various newspapers and books until bedtime. Edgar and Amelia had said their goodbyes and gotten in their final, Scrabble-related digs, and their coats were ready to be picked up by the back door. But the dishes had always been last on the list, one little unpleasant something to bookmark between the happiness of the meal and the happiness of shrugging back into his own, little apartment.
Finishing at the sink, Edgar crossed the room and draped his coat over his arm; just a light one, more a formality than any protection against the June heat.
“I can’t be left out of all the good debates!” He pulled the back door open and was immediately greeted by the sound of crickets, the smell of grass. “Are you apparating straight off? Or do you want to walk with me a few blocks?”
