silver trays of warmth
Location: McKinnon Farm, Edge of the Forest Time: Afternoon, 28th of November Status: Closed, for @silveranddittany
While Miss Nora Lynch might’ve meant it as a venomous joke when she suggested Edgar should bring silver trays of tea down to the small pack of lycanthrophic people that now lived near the McKinnon Farm, Edgar had thought it quite the beautiful idea. The Order had decided to give them shelter and food, and in Edgar’s opinion this was already a great step into the right direction. But sometimes people who had been ostracized for so long needed more than just the bare necessities. Deserved more. And what was a tray of tea if not a gesture of acceptance, of warmth?
The only problem was that Edgar didn’t know if it was all right to just go down there. Those people were surely skeptical of anyone who just visited them, let alone if they came with tea. Morgana herself knew what this tea could contain. And the last thing Edgar wanted was for them to doubt him. Not for his own sake, but for theirs. He wanted this gesture to actually do some good. Especially considering that in a few days a big mission was to begun, and if anything went wrong, who knew if this wasn’t the last thing he’d do?
Remus Lupin was the name that came to mind, then. On the one hand the other Order member -- he was barely more than a boy, wasn’t he? So young and yet with such pain in his eyes, always -- had attracted Edgar’s curiosity by returning from what he assumed was a nameless battle with a Death Eater recently, and by being accused by other Order members and the Farm residents to be the cause for the mysterious illness that had befallen them. There was surely a lot to talk about. To find out. To inquire, especially his health. On the other hand Lupin had attracted Edgar’s admiration. Leaving for such a long mission for Dumbledore, it demanded courage and loyalty, surely. And then this suggestion about bringing in the werewolves, giving them shelter. In a way this had been the moment when Edgar had really noticed Lupin for the first time. Every information he had picked up on previously now gathered into a solid image, received a face, handsome and hurt, and Edgar had begun to carefully study it.
Contrary to most, he trusted him. Unless proven guilty, he had no interest in doubting someone’s innocence, and he didn’t think himself in the position to speculate about someone’s intentions. For now it even seemed rather counterproductive to just go around accusing people you were supposed to trust your life with, but that was a topic for another time. Today, what mattered to him when he wandered over the McKinnon Farm, inquiring where he could find the young Mister Lupin, was that he was trusted by the werewolves. They would accept tea from him.
“Would you think a silver tray insensitive?” he asked as he approached Lupin by the edge of the forest, ease in his steps and casualness in his tone. His eyes had briefly scanned over the chopped wood, the piled logs, but now they fastened on Lupin, in that way of his that was filled with, both, an urgent curiosity and an ever-lasting patience.
