Fitzgerald had a strange relationship with his father. It was rather casual, much more so than many other pureblood relations. He referred to him as âPop.â And they had no pretenses with each other. The senior Greengrass knew of his sons precarious behaviors and seemed mildly bemused, if not admiring of such a carefree life. Though it had never actually been spoken, Fitzgerald felt that his father envied him and wished to prolong it as much as possible. Keep the youth alive, if you will. Better this than the undeniable suffering that came with falling in love.
His mother died when he was merely four and twenty years later her husband still seemed to be suffering as if it had happened within short-term memory. Fitz knew how wonderful the woman they lost was, if only fleetingly. He could feel the longing that seeped from within his fathers bones. There were parts of him that wished he could take that pain away, though the bigger parts of him had never known his father personally enough to reach it.
They were casual acquaintances more than they were relatives, as sad as it was to truly think about.
Adelaide had truly raised him, remembering that his favorite breakfast food was pancakes but only allowing them every so often, knowing it wasnât viable to give a four-year-old sweets in the morning every day of his life. He would never forget or truly be able to repay her for it. But what he could do was take some of the weight off of her every day life.
That is why he allowed himself to slip into the family business. If he didnât, it would surely be her - which was no place for a proper pureblood lady in their society. Sheâd never get a choice, otherwise. He hated it, but heâd do it if it meant one less thing for Adelaide to worry about. Even if their father had openly admitted that Fitz wasnât ready for it.
He had been standing in the shadows outside their fathers office when she exited, watching her travel slowly down the hall and into the long-forgotten library. Only it wasnât really forgotten. He spent an abnormal amount of time there. The dusty books on the shelf remained like-new, because he read them regularly. Though only his sisters would ever really know that. Fitz was fairly certain they hadnât noticed theyâd been touched at all, but if they did, theyâd know who the culprit was.
He considered going into the office, but a sideways glance let Fitzgerald know his father was busying himself with something. His quill scratched loudly at a piece of thick parchment. Fleetingly, he wondered if he was writing to a wife who was long at peace. He left this thought to travel down the hall to where he had seen Adelaide go. He cracked open the door, listening to the quiet sniffle she would never openly admit if he called her out on it.
Audibly, he stepped into the room. Her snappy tone caused him to smile. âI wasnât waiting,â he told her. âI was merely being vigilant.â He walked further into the room and picked up the first book he could get his hands on. A History of Magic. A snort left his nose as he tossed it down with a thump. âAd,â he said pointedly, though gentle as it was, making his way over to a shelf he knew contained a number of books on herbology and, secretly, a few of Bronteâs classics. âIâve been thinking we should go to South Africa - without father. Me, you, and Oh. Maybe see what the ministry their has to offer us in terms of exports.â
They both knew he didnât really care, but it was the start of a much larger conversation. He wasnât looking at her yet, offering her the simple respect of privacy. When he did turn to her, he dropped down to his needs, lowering himself so that he had to look up at her the way he had when they were children. His blue eyes, the ones they shared, were earnest and open - something only she would ever really experience. A boyish charm unlike anything he had willingly given in many, many years pulled the corners of a hopeful mouth. âAnd perhaps maybe some time off would do us all good. Me and you, at least. Ophie, bless her soul, will never really see the same struggle you do.â
âMhm...â Adelaide hummed, watching her brother with a trained eye as he moved about the room. Her hum turned disgruntled and disappointed as her brother tossed down a book before moving on. Outside of that, she kept quiet as she listened to his proposition. Her mind was turning, trying to figure out just where such a trip would land in their schedules and just how much time she wanted to spend with her sister. She felt like she couldnât leave the younger blonde alone sometimes, though the look on her brotherâs face made her almost disregard the feelings of having to hover over her younger siblings.
âTime away would do anyone good, but we donât have to go to the other side of the world to get it.â Ever the pragmatist, Adelaide shrugged at the suggestion and was getting ready to negotiate herself into not perhaps leaving for the opposite side of the globe. âIs there perhaps another reason youâre suggesting this? Did you get in some sort of trouble I should know about?â