dripping water hollows out stone
Location: House of Bones
Time: Early Evening, 9th of March
Status: Closed, for @a-glasshalfempty, @justicebones
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he asked, arms slung tight around her, looking around. “To be back?”
Nothing had sorted itself out between Edgar, Rigby and the big heritage question. Both were still refusing to sign the book in the Chapel, both were still rejecting the ring, both were still not talking to each other. However, what had sorted itself out -- in an almost ridiculously easy way -- was the House of Bones question.
Edgar had hesitated to bring the Order into the House of Bones for two main reasons. One, he knew the house wasn’t fully his to use until he was the heir, and two, he couldn’t have his family run into the Order all the time. Luckily for him though, most of his family was currently scattered all across the globe, with his parents back in Mexico, Colter in Russia and Dell in, well, somewhere between Tokyo and Paris. Left was only Rigby, and as Amelia and Edgar had carefully approached him, asking him if he could please no longer come back to the House of Bones for the time being, he … nodded. Grabbed his coat and left, forgetting his glasses as well as his shoes. Just left. Accepted his fate without questioning it, and -- judging by the size and darkness of his under-eye bags -- possibly assuming that this was just yet another thing one had to sacrifice for fatherhood.
The next day, the packing at the Potter Estate had begun. Amelia being introduced to everything only so she could help find ways to set it up in the House of Bones in the afternoon. There was no rush to get everything over in one day, but Edgar and Caradoc found that at least all the valuable things should be brought over as soon as possible, seeing how the Potter Estate was no longer well-warded. Boxes were carried manually, drawers were emptied and refilled, chimney places were lit for the first time in at least ten years, rooms were explained and designated for certain meetings and secrets, and by the time night fell, everything was more or less settled, and the House of Bones fell silent once more.
Well, mostly silent. Upon finding Amelia on the couch in their old living-room -- well, probably their new living-room again now, huh? -- Edgar let himself fall over the backrest onto her, causing her to let out a cat-like yelp in response. After some yelling and trying to push him off her, the tune changed into laughter, though, and eventually she gave up, Edgar quite happily crushing her to death with his weight.
Weird indeed. The House of Bones, inhabited again. His head on Amelia’s chest he was contemplating this, when footsteps announced another person. And not just anyone either: Fabian Prewett, the Scottish cold still on his shoulders. Edgar’s lips curved into a smile. Fabian had been here before, Edgar himself had shown him around. But that was long before the Order had been part of their life, long before this house was part of Fabian’s life, and it felt … weird.
And weirder it was when Edgar realised that the person he so gladly smiled at, and the person he was currently lying on, were in disagreement for almost three months now. Realised? Well, no. Remembered. After all, that was why Edgar had called Fabian here, on a school night. “I’m glad you could make it,” he therefore said, quickly, before Amelia could say something as well as trying not to hide from her the fact that he had invited Fabian. “Come sit.” He himself, too, detangled himself from his sister and sat up. “We just made hot chocolate.” The pot on the coffee table bubbled happily.
