When Clem’s dad had been arrested, Benjy had owled right away, because it had been easy to offer comfort. But what comfort or reassurance could he give when her mother had been murdered? Wotsits were worthless at a time like this. He found himself angry on Clem’s behalf, angry on behalf of everyone who’d lost a family member to the Death Eaters. Benjy didn’t much enjoy being angry, even when it was the righteous sort of anger. And more importantly, his anger was not useful, or productive, or helpful to a grieving friend. So he hadn’t reached out yet, supposing she was already overwhelmed by friends and family.
Who should he run into but Clem, of course, soon after that resolution? “I didn’t think—” he began, then cut himself off. “Do you need help packing, or something?”
@clementinerobards
