Epimetheus Belby

Ambrose’s features turned soft. Almost sympathetic. Just to make it clear that he no longer takes offense over what Epimetheus said. The other man seemed to realize what he had said and now he’s wheeling it back. “Forgive me. I was merely joking. Of course, our circumstances are different. I knew you weren’t saying that I abandoned everything.” Ambrose didn’t believe that too much, but it had to appear as it did. At the mention of business, a glint appeared in his eye. “Not here at least. Which is why we’re seizing the opportunity. Once this blows over, people would start looking into purchasing land again. This way, we can prepare and take advantage of it once it happens.”

He nodded, pleased to be right. Ambrose knew that it was hyperbole but he couldn’t help himself from commenting. “Well, that sounds like a terrible way to get new applicants. Seems counter-productive if you ask me. And I’m surprised. Jelly in hospitals are good here in London? I assumed they’re just as bland everywhere.” 

Pim smiled and gave hakf a shrug, letting the conversation fall to the side. Everybody had different reactions to the war and different reasonings for acting in the way they did. They would get nowhere if people fought over those differences instead of focusing on the important things, such as who stood on the side of equal rights and who didn’t. “Oh, yes, that makes sense. I’ll admit I don’t know all that much about business. Or forward planning or commercial sense. But I hope it goes well for you.”

Adonis had purposefully never been close to his brothers. His fathers were full of family values, but for Don, it felt like more people he could lose. Having people to care about; having those people ripped away from you. When he’d met Penelope, she’d changed his mind about all that. He’d begun to see differently, but figured it was too late. Still, Pim was in his kitchen. Damos hadn’t called him lawyer a few weeks ago. Maybe he was mending things; maybe being a vampire wasn’t all bad. Adonis met his brothers’ eyes and nodded. “If you… if you need a place to stay right now,” he said, looking at him. “You’re welcome.”  It wasn’t much, maybe, but it was a start.

Turning on his heel, he grabbed the jar from his cabinet and passed it to his brother so he could figure out how much he wanted. “I take back my offer to live here if you bring a fairy into my house Pim,” he teased, a chuckle soon following. “As much as I know Marcus would love that, the little pixie would probably bite him and I can’t stop it from tearing up the walls or… whatever the hell it is they do.” HE was instantly transported back to a class where they saw pixies before. They were not something to keep around, especially not locked up. He didn’t need any angry pixies on his case any time soon. Especially not now. “I was thinking more like wallpaper and a bed that we could build that looked like a ship or something. Y’know. Nothing that could convince him to start painting the rest of the walls and carpets with blue paint.”

Family wasn’t the easiest thing in the world but Pim always wished it was. He had a lot of love for the men who had adopted him and had always wanted to fit in with the boys he came to call brothers. And yet, when he left school he had never considered living with any of them. They all had their own paths to follow but there was a level of competition there, too. Competition to be successful in their fields and a part of that success, for Pim, had been the day he had been able to put a deposit down on his first home. Now, the idea was a little more tempting. He had been on his own for three years since his and Amelia’s divorce and that wasn’t something that bothered him. Looking after himself now was something he still felt like he was struggling through because he had to rather than because he was comfortable with that level of independence.

On the other hand, he wouldn’t be him if he wasn’t stubborn as a mule. “It’s not so bad. Like I say I’m getting a flight upgrade next week and then I’ll be able to sleep upstairs again instead of on the couch transfigured into a bed.” He wasn’t going to mention that it was staying as a couch during the day because his magic was too patchy to rely on every night.

“It’s good for the heart,” he protested.  “well, I think that it is, at least.  It’s good for something.  Better a stinky office than bad eyesight, or whatever it is that tuna fixes.”  Maybe tuna fish didn’t fix anything.  He wasn’t a healer.  But it tasted good, and he felt a bit less guilty for stinking up the break room for all of his co-workers.  “Their nostrils are safe either way, because Alice absolutely tucked the rest of the cans away.  Maybe she donated them a stray cat.”

“I would like to keep my job,” he joked.  “I have a strong feeling she may consider my enabling a problem as well.  Although, I guess you do know her better.”  Joke like that made it easy to imagine a day when she could leave the Ministry behind and focus on being a father.  It wasn’t the day though.  They needed to end this war first.  “Okay well, if you swear you may convince me to tell you a thing or two.  Do you want to come by for some coffee?  Or something else?  I’m not entirely sure what’s in our fridge, but you’re welcome to whatever’s there.  We can chat a bit before I have to pick up Neville.”

“Eyesight is carrots, I think,” Pim told him, “And I’m sure there’s lots of things that are good for your heart. Let the cats have their stinky mush food and you find something else to eat for your heart.”

He couldn’t help but smile at Frank’s worry. It was reasonable, of course. Amelia was their boss and it was dangerous to be found to have a connection to the Order these days, particularly when working for the Ministry. Pim hoped he would be able to talk himself out of any trouble, though, or if not at least be able to take the full responsibility and leave Amelia with no reason to feel Frank had given up any classified information from the DMLE willingly. “I swear. The only person who’ll ever know you told me anything will be Moody and that’s only because it’s not worth either of us trying to keep it from him. Coffee would be good, sure.” He hadn’t been expecting an invitation to the Longbottom home but it would make a nice change to going back to his own house and sitting around with nothing to do.

Moody didn’t get involved in people’s personal lives. At least, not on purpose. The Order members were always bringing their personal drama to their meetings even if they tried to hide it well. He could always tell when the Longbottoms were in over their heads or the Potters had an argument. Prewett was always babbling on about one person or another, though now it was that he had settled down and that became an entirely new brand of obnoxious. And here was Epimetheus, filling in about something he didn’t care much about. He supposed it would be good to know if he were to interact with younger Pembrokes more. “Not sure when I’ll need that information, but good to know,” he said. “What else do you need?” 

Ambrose flashed a smile. But his lips remained firmly pressed against each other. The other man probably didn’t know just how condemning he sounds to Ambrose. He used the opportunity to look around and remind himself why exactly was he in the aisle in the first place. Ambrose grabbed what he was looking for before he continued. “Is that what you think I did? Abandon everything I have?” Given everything his family owns back home, it was definitely a lot to abandon. He didn’t know the man so Ambrose saw no reason to explain himself. Instead, he’ll just amuse himself with how the man could possibly redeem himself.

“It’s real estate,” he explained. “My family saw the opportunity to invest in land here so they sent me to handle everything here on this side of the ocean. So you see, I don’t really think of it as abandoning everything that I have. I’m merely… expanding it.” Ambrose shrugged, going for nonchalant. “Besides, isn’t there solace in knowing that your loved ones are safe at home?

“Ah.” Ambrose nodded. Even he was familiar with the occupation even if he personally never had to deal with them. “Does that explain your situation then? Are you on leave?” 

Pim frowned as he shook his head. “No, no you’re completely misunderstanding me. I wouldn’t say that. I don’t know you or your situation. Besides, I didn’t mean it that way around, at all. Just that it’s how it would feel to me, if I were to run off to a different country just because there’s a war here, when all my responsibilities are also here. I wouldn’t exactly have that solace that my loved ones were safe. If anything I commend you for going ahead with your business here despite the state of things. Most people would be put off.” Perhaps not unreasonably, either. It wasn’t just the risk from the Death Eaters but Pim was rather surprised that there even was much opportunity in land investment at this time. “Are many people buying houses at the moment?”

Ronan supposed it was silly to assume that the other man didn’t care just because he was following his rules. Not everyone could be a pirate, although it was more fun that way, at least in his mind. Then again, the Hit Wix were as close as one could get to legal pirating these days. At least, in Ro’s mind. It’s why he’d come here first. Seemed more fun than an auror. “Well, alrighty then,” he said, sitting down with his bowl of cereal and a grin. “Appreciate it, mate. I’ve got no patience for bureaucracy. Unfortunately, the world seems to because it hasn’t gone away for many, many years.” He sighed dramatically, taking a bite of his cereal and grinning. “So? Where do I start? I could go on about the story but I truthfully don’t know who would steal this painting. If an old man has enemies, I’d be quite impressed, really.” The man didn’t do much, to begin with, at least not as far as Ro knew. Maybe he was secretly a part of the Death Eaters, but it seemed unlikely, given his state of being.

who: @epimetheusb​ where: the hog’s head. when: april 18th, 1983.

Edgar didn’t know why he’d came. 

Of course, he was the one who sent the owl. He was the one who knew that they needed to talk, given the situation. The Order was not going to work if they were all at odds with one another. Edgar had to learn how to put what had happened with Pim and Amelia behind him. Still, it didn’t help seeing him. It didn’t help that when Pim arrived, Edgar’s instinct was to yell at the other man. He cleared his throat and pushed it away. He was mending bridges, not burning them, after all.

“You look good, mate,” he said, with a short nod. As he waited for Pim to settle in, he noted the wheelchair and then met his sister’s ex-husband’s eyes. It was strange, how a man could be family and then not, so quickly. “I’d heard about the accident I just didn’t know… I mean. How are you doing?”

It was funny, really, the way they avoided each other. Pim didn’t even have anything against Edgar. He had no reason not to get along with him and his break up with Amelia had been both mutual and amicable. Three years had passed since then; three years in which Edgar and Pim had essentially been working alongside each other in the Order and Pim, for his part, had been keeping such a fact secret from Amelia. He didn’t know if Edgar was doing the same. Because, for some reason, they had spent those years carefully avoiding each other, something which had been much easier when Pim’s involvement had been limited due to the Hit Office being more than a full-time job for him.

For three months, now, however, it was the Order that had become his full-time job, as his leave from the Ministry stretched on indefinitely. So, it was less of a shock than it might have been when he received Edgar’s owl, in light of the way he had recently been bugging Moody for more work with the Order.

Magic was getting easier again. He almost felt like he was once more ten years old and practising to control magic with his dad. He had spent a lot of time in the past couple of months with Simeon doing just that, after all. It still wasn’t perfect but a simple spell like one to move a chair out of the way to enable him to go right up to the table Edgar was seated at in his wheelchair was achievable. “Getting there,” he agreed but he nodded in understanding at the unfinished comment. Even though he had been to Order meetings since leaving hospital, he knew most people, himself included, had figured the chair would be a temporary thing, a month or two at most. Now he was on his second one, this more personalised and upgraded compared to the standard St Mungo’s issued one. It was something he was still learning to accept. “Every day’s easier,” he said, honestly, “even if I wish I could go back to work already but there’s still some things to figure out before I can have another go at trying to persuade Amelia to let it happen. How about you?” It sounded simply like a polite return of the question, given Edgar was physically in a better way than Pim was but the fact of the matter was he hadn’t asked that question enough times in the past few years.

She nodded. Things had changed; her feelings weren’t what they once were, there relationship wasn’t what it once was, but she still cared. She still hurt seeing him hurt. She worried about him. She wanted to see him back in the office, even if it meant the occasional pang in her chest. She respected his explanation, though she wanted to warn him not to push himself him past his limits. He didn’t need a lecture from her. It was his body anyways – she couldn’t lecture him about it.

That she wouldn’t argue with him about. But work? “Do your healers agree with that? Because I’m not putting someone in the field who can’t do it. Danger to you, danger to your coworkers. I try to avoid those risks.” And so far, she’d done a good job of it, a better job of it than she was with the war. Her tenure wasn’t free of home team tragedies, but they were fortunately sparse. “And I’m not putting you on desk duty either. Pushing papers isn’t good for your mental health.”

If anyone had suggested that Moody do solely research rather than be out in the field like he actually wanted, he’d probably laugh in their face. It wasn’t a direct no to Epimetheus though, just a let’s wait. Moody would explore their options. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said flatly. He nodded. At least it wasn’t an argument, or complete laughter. Moody chuckled. “Don’t know the old one much. Forget he exists most of the time, so I’ll take your word for it.” He had a feeling the Pembroke brother wasn’t on his radar for good reason. He nodded. “Persephone and Pandora are good. You can trust them.”

He was joking, but she wasn’t afraid of McGonagall.  Honestly, if she could pick out exactly who she wanted to be when she grew all the way up, it would be her.  McGonagall was somehow tough, fair, caring and strong all at the same time.  “McGonagall thinks I’m delightful,” she shrugged.  It was true, they had bonded over hours and hours of detention in her Hogwarts days.  “but she’s not old she’s just… well-seasoned.”

She snorted, because he had hit the nail a little too on the head with that statement.  She wished she could find a career path that excited her that didn’t play the prejudice game.  And maybe one she hadn’t gotten attacked outside of if she could manage it.  “Yes, actually,” she laughed.  “maybe food critic isn’t my calling but you let me know if anyone is looking for the best employee they could ever find.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Okay, fair enough.  A nice stack of pancakes and sausages could hit the spot any time of day.”

Pim snorted at Aila’s description of Hogwarts’ Deputy Headmistress. “I bet she’s younger than you think. In fact, I reckon she’s not even at your age limit to make her one of your elders, actually.” That was why he wanted to hear her suggest that one had to be over a certain age to demand respect. The idea of anyone not giving McGonagall respect and claiming that she was simply too young to warrant it, despite all she had accomplished, was hilarious to him.

She laughed and there was still a jokey feel to the conversation but something told him that Aila was seriously looking for a new job. It would make sense, he supposed, but unfortunately his time in hospital had been enough to distance him enough to not know what opportunities might be around at the moment. And they weren’t ones to have a serious conversation about it. It was much easier to give her a mischievous grin and ask, “Why, is Lily looking, too? I don’t think my brother will let her leave. As you say, she is the best employee he could have found.”

He nodded. “Exactly. Breakfast foods are the best. When else can you get away with syrup and meat on the same plate?”

“I uh – well, I had a tuna fish sandwich for lunch on Wednesday instead of ham and cheese?  Alice complained about the smell in the kitchen, but I just love that salty mush, you know?  Especially on toasted and buttered bread?  Peak, delicious lunch.”  That was not the sort of information that Pim was after, but it was information all the same.  “I was going to bring another on Thursday, but the other tins I bought suspiciously went missing.  I was thinking about investigating, but I was hesitant, because I think my wife might be the tuna stealing culprit.”  Was him rambling, maybe?  Was it going to be effective?  Probably not.  Truthfully, the department had been quite busy, and having Pim there would have been welcome.  He couldn’t say that though.

“That also depends,” he leaned back, giving him a speculative look.  “if I were to give you a heads up are you going to show up wand blazing, and get me in trouble with Ms. Bones?  Can’t have you getting me sacked.”  He chuckled.  “But if you swear you’re just going to pass it along to your people?  Maybe I could be persuaded to help you out.”

Pim raised an eyebrow as Frank started to talk about his lunch but otherwise didn’t react and in some ways it was nice to hear the ridiculous office dramas as much as the actual work he was missing out on. “I’m glad I wasn’t there for that. That’s gross, Longbottom, who takes fish to work? I’d say whoever the tuna-stealing-culprit is did the whole office a favour. You should be thanking them for stopping you from stinking the kitchen out again.”

At first, Epimetheus just seemed to be thinking the question over. Part of him really did want to take it as an opportunity to throw himself back into fighting but he was aware that there was a line between impulsivity and idiocy and this would be crossing into the idiocy side. He hadn’t even figured out apparition properly yet. At the mention of the Head of the DMLE, however, his ex-wife, he couldn’t stop an amused smile appearing on his face. “I think Ms Bones knows well enough that it would be all me to blame.” And that was why he wouldn’t. He knew where to toe the line. “I’ll just pass it on. Maybe I’ll try to think a little on strategy as well, but there’s not going to be any storming in wands blazing any time soon.”