Amelia Susan Bones

💀

“Of course I knew I had a choice, I chose it,” Ainsley snapped back, more hurt – no, more disappointed than she had expected that Amelia, of all people, didn’t seem to understand. Edgar had; was it wrong to have assumed Amelia would, too? Of course Ainsley hadn’t meant that she hadn’t had a choice; she’d meant that she hadn’t had any other choice she could have chosen. How could Amelia not understand that? She would have made the same choice for Edgar’s sake, Ainsley knew that – or would she have? Edgar, surely, would have; that was why he, like Ainsley, had always gone to such lengths to keep his sister out of the war. Ainsley had assumed that both Bones twins felt the same, but…maybe she had assumed too much of Amelia.

Ainsley had done a fair amount of that lately.

Her tangled, tortured heart sank lower in her chest as she stared at the witch she had once – for one beautiful, blazing, brief moment – entertained the mad, wild thought that she might have been able to fall in love with…and was now disappointed by. They were all of them so much less than they should have been.

“Nessie’s not involved.” Ainsley’s voice was low, soft – but her grip on her wand was tight and hard as stone. “Nessie’s never been involved – not in any of it. Not the Order, not the Death Eaters, none of it.” Despite the ragged, tearing pain in her chest, she forced herself to meet Amelia’s eyes head-on. This, above all things, she needed Amelia to understand. Because this wasn’t about her aching heart or the oozing pain of a might-have-been. She wasn’t staring at Amelia now as a lost chance for – well, for something that she’d tried hard not to let herself think about. And now wasn’t the time to think about that either, because whatever she and Amelia had been and might have yet been to each other, right now what mattered was that Amelia was part of the Wizengamot – was part of the law. And Ainsley needed her to understand that Vanessa Abbott was innocent. She had been the impetus for Ainsley’s crimes, yes; but Nessie herself wasn’t part of this war. Never had been. Never would be. Ainsley had sacrificed everything to ensure that; she wasn’t about to see her sister charged for the crimes that Ainsley had willingly and wittingly committed in her name.

“As far as I know, Jayesh isn’t a Death Eater either.” That was harder to say, and the words came out bitter; it was unfair for the Rosiers to have allowed one of their own sons to slip the noose that they’d knotted around Ainsley’s jaw – but if (when) she left her sister, she might at least not leave her alone. And it would hardly be fair for Jayesh to be arrested simply on the presumption of his family name, either. So as much as the fact of his potential innocent annoyed Ainsley, she still had to say it. “That doesn’t prove anything – I’m hardly trusted enough to be privvy to secrets – but I don’t know why they’d bother hiding it from me if he was, either.” She shrugged, curt and callous. “I hate him for tangling Nessie’s heart up in all of this, for being the reason we’ve ended up where we are – but he didn’t do it to us. He didn’t tell her to lie to his family; as far as I know, he still doesn’t know we did.” That was the biggest loose end left that worried Ainsley about her potential (inevitable) absence from her sister’s life: how would Jayesh react when he eventually did find out the truth? How much of a blood-supremacist was he, at heart? But there was nothing Ainsley could do to save Nessie from those repercussions; a bitter potion to swallow, but there were limits to Ainsley’s abilities. She’d trapped herself behind that silver mask to save her sister; she couldn’t squirm free of it now no matter how much she wanted to find a way out so she could stay around to continue shielding Nessie after.

“So yes, Amelia,” Ainsley said, her voice limp and toneless with disappointment, “I’ve kept her safe and happy. As safe and happy as I can make her, anyway. We don’t all have the luxury of sitting behind the solid walls of the Wizengamot while other people take the risks that will win – or loose – this war on our behalf, you know.”

Amelia understood; of course she did, she would be a fool not to understand what one would do for their sibling. After all, Edgar was her other half, a part of her she couldn’t live without, a part of her soul. She had joined hte Order with him, after all, seeing the goodness though the laws they were skirting and breaking, because they were doing the right thing, and because Edgar was there and she trusted him and his judgement. Would that mean she would follow him into the darkness, if need be? That she would have become a Death Eater if she had to, in order to keep him safe and living? Of course.

The only difference was that she refused to believe her twin would be stupid enough to fall in love with someone that would put them into that situation where she would have to choose that, without letting her pull him out of it. She had to believe that he’d let her pull him out of that situation, love be damned, if it meant keeping the both of them safe. She’d pull him back, just like she should have done for Ainsley, just like Ainsley should have done for Nessie. Did the girl even understand what she’d done? How could one pick such love of some man over that of a sibling?

But Amelia couldn’t just say all of that to Ainsley, she could only hope that the tears and broken expression would be able to do that for her, as the other met her eyes and continued to speak.

“I understand you say that,” She finally spoke then, “And for her sake, I hope that it’s true. once he’s defeated there will be a full investigation into everything, a fair one, where if all the evidence proves she’s innocent, proves they’re both innocent, they’ll be fine.” She wasn’t going to just protect Vanessa simply because Ainsley said so and because she was Ainsley’s sister, although that was a tempting though, and she wasn’t going to force charges on her for destroying Ainsley, although that was a slightly more tempting thought. She also wouldn’t push for charges simply because of their last name, she would be fair and look at all the evidence, as was her job. Because it was the only way to do this, because it was the law.

“Didn’t lie to her family?” That made Amelia curious, wondering what exactly had been lied about, and wanting to question how then it was that Ainsley was ensnared in this web, but Jayesh had stayed free of anything. It all felt so stupid and so wrong, and frustration boiled under Amelia’s skin; even more so when Ainsley continued to speak and mention the ‘luxury’ of sitting behind the walls of the Wizengamot. She grit her teeth, raising her wand just slightly at the other, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m here, aren’t I? Does this look like sitting behind the wall?” She snapped then, “After you left... I joined The Order. I took a stand, because I couldn’t just sit back and not know what was happening, and I couldn’t keep losing people. And now? I’m fighting.” She shook her head and looked around, making sure they were still alone. “You know who all is taking risks? Who is here? Edgar is here. My friends are here. The man I--I might...” There was a sudden hitch in her words and she froze up, both realizing what she’d been about to say, and even worse, who she’d been about to say it in front of. Her heart thudded in her chest and she shook it off and quickly continued, hoping that Ainsley wouldn’t realize what she’d been about to admit.

“People I care about are here fighting, and I’m doing what I can to help them. If any of them are hurt tonight, I promise you that whomever I find has evidence and is convicted of helping your Dark Lord will never know another nights peace for the rest of their lives,” She had added that about evidence and conviction because it was the right thing, and she needed Ainsley to understand that... but she was sure the other woman also understood that if anything happened to Edgar, all bets would be off at that point.

It was so hard not to reach out – to reach back – to Amelia. Ainsley’s free hand actually twitched forward, almost of its own accord, before she could collect herself and draw back. That withdraw became a flinch, a recoil, as Amelia’s question lashed across her like a Curse.

“Of course it was!” Ainsley blurted, the words raw and devastated. “How can you say that?” She wrenched her mask from her face before she could think better of it – it didn’t matter anymore any way, did it? Amelia knew her; it was too little and too late for that stupid mask to hide her – and stared at Amelia without the uncomfortable filter of that silver shroud between them.

(Fortunately the mask was a conjuration as much as it was a physical object, and so she did not wrench her spectacles from her face at the same time; it would have been a poor trick to clear her vision of the mask only to blur it by throwing her glasses to the floor in the process.)

“You think it was some…some game? You think I did any of it – any of it – on purpose?” On some level, Ainsley knew she didn’t deserve to be hurt; knew that she had earned this with her own actions. But it was one thing to accept the cost of the betrayal she had visited on those she loved; it was something else entirely to have that love questioned at its root. “You think I wanted – wanted–?” The words strangled in her throat and she clenched her fingers tight enough around her wand that the nails dug into her palm hard enough to almost draw blood – but not because she was preparing a Curse. Not because she planned to fight.

Because it hurt and she needed something tangible to hold onto, even as her voice failed her. A low, ragged mutter was the most she could force out as she said, “I didn’t plan any of this, Amelia. I didn’t want any of this. I wanted–” You, Ainsley wanted to say, but stopped herself and swallowed hard against the urge. “I wanted anything but this. I didn’t have a choice, Amelia – not if I was going to save Nessie. I had to do what I did, but I never planned for it. I never, ever wanted it. But my sister…my sister. Don’t you understand?”

Ultimately it was tears that blurred Ainsley’s vision, not the mask she’d worn or the spectacles balanced on her nose. They stung, hot and salty, within her lashes but she blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall.

She knew she didn’t have the right to cry.

Amelia noted the flinch, the way Ainsley recoiled back from her; but couldn't find it in herself to be upset or even sorry about it, not after what had happened. Was that mean of her, she wondered? To at least know that it was clear by Ainsley's words and actions that the feelings she might have been starting to have had had a basis, not just been used against her? To know that she hadn't imagined the fact that the kisses had felt real? And yet, although she knew it was Ainsley, somehow the other woman ripping her mask off made it hurt even more.

"How can I say that?" She stated then, a little confused, taken aback by how Ainsley could wonder how she could question it. Had the other truly not realized what she'd done? The pain and confusion she'd caused? "Do I think it was some game? That you chose it on purpose?" It was like she was trying to understand what Ainsley was saying, but also giving herself a moment in trying to calm down before snapping at her. But there was a battle around them, and she'd lost sight of Edgar and Caradoc, the adrenaline was rushing and truly how could she calm down in that situation?

"I don't know," She admitted honestly, "You... You ran off. You went after her and next thing I know there's chaos and I go back to headquarters to find Edgar hurt, and James Potter dead, and hearing it was you? That you left me and I... I didn't..." Her voice wavered a little, still feeling rather guilty for having not stopped Ainsley. Nessie would have been fine, right? If Amelia had just reached out to grab Ainsley and pulled her back, maybe none of this would have happened, maybe...

"You may not have wanted it, but you did choose it," She snapped out then after a slight pause, raising her wand just slightly at her side, because there was still that feeling of not truly being able to trust Ainsley anymore, "You had a choice, don't you get that?" She let out a watery, slightly bitter laugh, "Your sister. Yes. But also no. I understand how desperate someone can become in order to keep their sibling safe. I am that, because I will do whatever it takes to keep Edgar safe and alive. But this? You didn't keep her safe, Ainsley. You kept her happy, yes, but safe? Will she be safe after this war is over and your side loses? When you’re all being sent to Azkaban?" And she knew it would sting, she knew it was rude and hurtful and mean... but wasn't it the truth?

💀

Ainsley recognized the memory the moment it unfurled around her – not the particular moment itself, no, but the spell that conjured it…and more importantly, the identity of the wix who’d cast it. Edgar Bones wasn’t the only person who knew this magic, of course, but he was surely the only one in all of Wixen Britain who would have had both the deranged inspiration and the quick-wandedness to employ it as a tactic in the middle of a battle.

She couldn’t face Edgar – she couldn’t – so she turned and ran.

It was a blind flight, not because she couldn’t see but because she couldn’t see reality through the layers of the past that Edgar had conjured around them all – so Ainsley didn’t try to navigate by sight at all. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut and let common sense be her guide. The Ministry’s floors were level and the atrium was wide; as long as she kept her balance loose and her strides long enough to compensate should she stumble over any bodies, she should be fine.

Ainsley had gotten very good at lying to herself since joining the Death Eaters and she was self-aware enough to know when she was doing it, but she still never would have expect just how not-fine it turned out to be.

It wasn’t the hand on her arm that was the problem, or even the wand at her throat that followed; both of those were dealt with easily enough with a simple Blistering Hex that sent her would-be-assailant scrambling backwards with an agonized screech. Ainsley opened her eyes to see if she could see the damage she’d done, and was relieved to discover that she’d made it beyond the range of Edgar’s spell. Hopefully that meant she’d made it beyond the range of risking contact with him, too. She was just starting to relax, gulping down air in an attempt to quiet her racing heartbeat, when the real problem arrived.

The problem was the next person who accosted her, slamming into Ainsley bodily and knocking them both sideways. The only reason Ainsley didn’t join the newcomer on the floor was because she slammed into a wall instead, which at least allowed her to wobble to her feet instead of sprawling along the hallway, although her aching shoulder might have preferred the floor. She pushed the pain aside and raised her wand, ready to dispatch this next threat or victim just as easily – and then she saw their face.

Amelia.

The word came out before Ainsley could stop it, hollow and faint as a thin winter’s breeze rattling between desiccated tree limbs. “Amelia.” Ainsley’s wand wobbled and she stumbled backwards, trying to flee the other Bones twin the way she’d fled the first – but the blasted wall was there, stopping her. Trapping her.

“Amelia,” she said again, and the word was a plea – don’t know me. Don’t make me fight you. Don’t see me beneath this silver shackle. Don’t let me hurt you. Don’t make me see the look on your face when you see me. Please, Amelia. Don’t. But Ainsley Abbott knew that she deserved no mercy, so she held her wand tight in her shaking hand and swallowed both the words she wanted to say, and the ones she didn’t, and hoped that Amelia would see only the mask and not the broken-hearted traitor beneath; hoped that she would run as Ainsley could not run, rather than force her to fight a fight that had only loss waiting at either end.

What else could she do?

Amelia had kept her eyes and wand trained on the Death Eater in front of her as she shifted, putting her free hand on the floor to start to push herself up to get to her feet. The other had stumbled back against the wall for the moment it seemed, and Amelia was not about to fight on her knees. The first time her name was said, Amelia didn't’ even process it. It sounded so faint that she couldn’t be sure she wasn’t just dreaming it, or that it wasn’t someone calling to her down the hall or further away. It was the second time that her name was said, as she was mid-rise off the floor, that it registered that it had been said and she recognized who the voice even belonged to.

Her hand fumbled and she nearly faceplanted on the floor as she faltered in her motion to get up. Ainsley. Amelia felt as if she’d suddenly become submerged in ice water, like she’d been hit by a spell to encase her entire body in ice. It was a frozen chill of a feeling; one that was then followed by a white hot rage feeling, and then a swirl of mixed emotions. She had no clue what to feel as she realized it was Ainsley under that mask, and even less of a clue as to what to do. Should she stand and fight? Should she run?

Amelia surged up then, pushing herself the rest of the way up off of the floor and taking steps towards Ainsley. Her left hand was still holding her wand up and pointed at Ainsley, though it made her stomach turn at having to do it, whereas once she’d thought she’d never have to do that. Her right hand raised, palm open, as she reached out towards the other woman. Was she planning on smacking her? Ripping the mask off? Cupping Ainsley’s face? Her hand stopped midway towards her and then dropped, the motion completely forgotten in whatever it could have been.

Although the battle around them raged on, and Amelia was sure that at any minute one of Ainsley’s Death Eater buddies could appear and hit her in the back... she couldn’t help but also feel like time had slowed down for the moment, as if it were only her and Ainsley and the way her heart was pounding in her chest, the way she didn’t know how to process any of this. 

So, all she could do was blurt out the first thing that came to her mind, the one question that she desperately needed answered, that had haunted her ever since she’d found out that Ainsley had killed James and joined the dark side.

“Was any of it ever real?”

Date: May 2nd, 1982 Location: Ministry of Magic Tagging: @ainsleyabbott​

Amelia had taken off away from Edgar and Caradoc, and had yet to circle back and try and regroup with them. No, as much as she wanted, needed to make sure that they were both alive and safe, there was so much more going on at the moment. There were too many Death Eaters, too many innocents, and too much to do. People needed to be helped, and those on the wrong side needed to be taken down.

Her wand was gripped tightly in her hand, focused as she made her way down the corridor, stepping over people who were stunned, or who were worse. Still, there was no time to stop and check, worse could be happening just further away, and if she could stop that, then that's what she needed to focus on. She couldn't understand how this had happened like this, and it made her so angry.

A scream from the next corridor caught her attention and made her take off at a run again. She scrambled, moving to go sliding around the corner in her heels--and go stumbling and crashing into a figure just around the corner. She swore as she went down hard, feeling her wand go sliding out of her hand as she tried to catch herself as she hit the floor. Panic rose in her chest and she scrambled for it again, looking up and feeling her heart pounding.

Seeing the person in the Silver Mask above her, Amelia had her wand up again, not ready to go without a fight.

dearborncaradoc​:

The three of them moved in sync, with the familiarity of people who had fought many battle side by side—in Caradoc and Edgar’s case—and were almost as one—in Edgar and Amelia’s. So far, they had managed to stay close together, never too far out of reach of each other, always one spell ready to cover each other’s back. Yet, as he had told Mary, it didn’t matter how hard one tried to stick together, sometimes you found yourself driven away from your allies—your friends. 

It happened for them, too. One moment, Amelia had been at his left and the next she was all the way across the hallway and Caradoc didn’t know how it had happened. He only knew that he couldn’t get to her to help her because just as her, he could see his own reflection in the Silver Mask staring back at him. 

And Edgar… 

“Edgar.”

@spellnbone​

They’d not all of them come one by one, but Caradoc and Amelia had not proceeded without awareness and preparation, and so it almost felt like it. Edgar’s wand steadily pointed at one person, then the next, his stunning spell simple and precise. They were directed even at potential friends, partly because they didn’t know who was their friend, partly because at least while lying on the ground in a forgotten corridor, most of these people wouldn’t be found and killed.

And so they’d proceeded, the three of them, Caradoc, Amelia and Edgar, and although this was the first time they fought shoulder to shoulder in a battle, it felt familiar, it felt like a well-staged routine. Years of taking care of each other, years of understanding the other’s strength and weaknesses, years of becoming aware of every jerk, every breath, every motion of hesitation. Had it all been but preparation for this day?

And then Edgar saw a Silver Mask, no, Death Eater, stand before him. They had come out of nowhere it seemed. How had they even seen him, standing in the shadows? He raised his wand and then he heard his name. His gaze jumped to Caradoc, but he’d not called for his own sake despite being faced by a Death Eater the same way, he’d called because of Amelia. Because she too, was cornered. No.

One. Help himself.

Two. Help Caradoc.

Three. Help Amelia.

He couldn’t help them all. No.

His eyes widened, his wand and gaze jumping from one side of the corridor to the other, jumping more and more frantically until it felt like his heart was about to stop, until it was as though he’d already lost and then. No. 

Four. He pointed his wand at the ceiling. “Ayespeji.” 

The corridor turned dark. From the ceiling on downwards the room seemed to be changed by a heavy, dark liquid, masking over everything, every tapestry, every piece of furniture, the floor, even Edgar, his enemies, his family, until there was nothing left but the illusion of the first memory that had come to his mind. A memory of the last time he’d used that spell. 

A particular room in the Nott’s house. It wasn’t a perfect recreation. It was bare but for the few details Edgar had seen in photographs and in the retelling of people’s mission. Everything else was a perfect reconstruction of the enchanted map they had made for the mission. The map, and the people on it, their report they’d given to Edgar after the mission had failed; in the room now floated two brightly shining dots, their names floating underneath just the way they had on the map that day: Lily Evans and Frank Longbottom, their names floating underneath their light. 

‘You’re still in your own house, on your own couch,’ Edgar had told Lily, all those months ago, when Leina Nott’s death had nearly torn the Order apart, and he had to force himself into calmness. That was not what he said today: “Run!” 

And then he ducked. He couldn’t see the Death Eater anymore, nor where his feet tread, but he ducked and ran, leaving the illusion spell to unravel, slowly, the darkness sliding off the walls again and giving all of them, thirty, maybe forty seconds. And then he stumbled over something. And when he turned and looked up, the illusion spell had disappeared, and he realised there was a nameless, strange body underneath him, and a nameless, strange body wearing a silver mask above him.

She wasn't sure how it'd happened. One minute she'd been at Caradoc's side, the next she found herself being backed into a corner. The Death Eater in front of her was so close, both with wands raised, and Amelia almost felt frozen. It was like they were each waiting, to see which would strike first and how at the close range.

Caradoc's voice rang out and she glanced that way, feeling afraid that he was in trouble, or that Edgar was in trouble, only to see them both cornered as well. It felt like time had slowed down to almost nothing as she tried to figure out what to do.

iv.

Time: 2nd of May Place: Ministry of Magic Status: Closed, semi Self-Para: @dearborncaradoc, @justicebones

Even without the message explaining them the situation, it was simple to understand what was happening by the sight of it alone. Silver Masks storming the atrium – too many of them didn’t come from outside – and Edgar pushed Caradoc and Amelia back into the office. 

“What are you doing?!” Amelia hissed, fighting her hands off him. “We have to go and do something!” 

Edgar’s eyes wandered from her to Caradoc, who had drawn his wand and nodded. “There’s no time to lose.”

“But-…” Edgar said and his forlorn gaze wandered further still, to the half-eaten lunch on the table.

Amelia understood and took his face into her hands. She too had already drawn her wand, and he could feel it cold against his cheeks. “If we go now, we’ll have an even better lunch tomorrow.” The inevitable truth behind those words being: if we don’t go now, we might never have lunch together again.

Edgar clutched her hands, looked into her eyes. It had all been so much easier when he had never had to storm into battle thinking those eyes by his side. “I’ll be behind you.” 

“I trust you.” Amelia let go and turned, and by the door, Caradoc nodded, putting his hand on the handle. 

One. Two. Three.

He opened it and they ran out.

Four. 

Whatever happened, Edgar needed to protect them. 

As they headed out into the hallway, they were already outnumbered. There seemed to be at least four nearby and more on the way. Amelia, for one, wasn't afraid though; she was sure that she and her boys could handle this. Instead they focused on moving as a team, working together and stunning whichever Death Eater was closest.

Fabian didn’t intend to be at the house for long, he just had to drop off some notes, pick up a cloak he’d left here last time he’d stayed the night, perhaps check on the new flower beds, maybe even catch a glimpse of Edgar. Just the ordinary everyday tasks that kept him coming back to the House of Bones.

He was rarely here long enough to substantiate any of the haunting rumours that flew around. Any extended period of time he was here was spent in the garden, or in meetings when he was too focused to think about ghosts, or rare and blissful evenings spent with Edgar when he was too dedicated to forgetting worries to pay attention to any spooky occurrences. Either that or the ghosts were avoiding him for some reason. No, despite its sometimes morbid appearance, the House of Bones was mostly a place of pleasant memories for Fabian.

But he had heard the rumours.

Which was why, when he stumbled upon Amelia fabricating a conversation with a made-up ghost, he couldn’t help but laugh. Amelia, who he knew to be so serious, playing a trick? His uncontrollable laugh had given him away, so he stepped closer with a wry smile, looking around in the direction of Amelia’s ‘ghost’ as if trying to find him.

“Edgar said you’d started a rumour that the toilets were haunted, I thought he was pulling my leg.” He gave up searching the empty air and turned back to Amelia. “Richard hm? Not a very spooky name. I would have thought you’d be a bit more creative than Richard.”

He wasn’t sure if he and Amelia were quite on this level of playful teasing, but there was only one way to find out. Their evening with Edgar had gone surprisingly well, but he was unsure how things would be without Edgar physically in the room with them.

Amelia was startled out of her charade when she heard the laughter, spinning around with a serious look on her face to try and see who had interrupted her, and more important, who was laughing. At seeing Fabian, she raised an eyebrow and watched as he stepped closer to her. Well, he wasn’t one that would fall for it, she noted, but at least he found it entertaining?

“No, I did,” She stated simply with a shrug, glancing over towards where she had been pretending the ghost was, before looking back at Fabian, “If people are going to let their own prejudices work that way, then why not play into it? They’re the ones letting themselves get scared by it.” And moreover, who was she to not do it, when it was her home? Some place that was important to her? She didn’t like that others didn’t like her home.

Edgar had warned people about the catacombs and the courtyard and the East Wing, mostly the way you’d do it in a contract. Just to be safe and have no one accuse you of not disclosing information. Because while he had always despised this house and all it stood for for him, he’d never really considered it malicious. Not truly. Yes it had its ways and yes it was full of history that had been forgotten, but it was just a house. A home. Stones and a roof meant to protect its inhabitants. And in a way, he’d expected the Order to think about it the same way. But ever since the Frank encounter, where Frank had acted like the house was about to attack the other Order members, he’d found himself a little … annoyed. Annoyed by people’s willingness to read evil where there was good. Because it was just yet enough effect the war had on people, but perhaps it was also the reason there was war in the first place. 

So when he was sitting on the stairs to the Ivory Tower and saw Amelia stomp by – feeling her presence long before he could hear her Spanish muttering – he couldn’t help but smirk. He extinguished his cigarette and got up, following her quietly. Down the hallway, around the corner, and then away from her into a dark little corner, observing in silence.

Any other person who didn’t believe the house was actually haunted and couldn’t see a ghost, would’ve thought her crazy. He, however, knew what she was doing, and thought her brilliant. His little smirk grew into a grin and he folded his arms, watching the scene. Really, all the time he had made her read him his favourite plays out loud must’ve had its effect for her acting was on point. Let’s see if I can keep up, he thought and pushed himself off the wall to join her. 

“Oh, Richard, what have you done now?” he asked, looking disappointed. “Have we not taught you to be more hospitable to our guests?” And to Amelia he said: “What has he done now? The other day I saw him put sleeping drought into Alice’s drink, can you believe?”

Amelia had been too focused on her prank that she hadn’t truly even realized that Edgar was around, even though she had felt his warm presence as she walked down the hall. No, her mind was fully on the idea she had and what she was going to be doing and what to say. It was only when he spoke up that she processed that he was there, and she didn’t even flinch or jump. Instead, the only real acknowledgement she gave at first was the corner of her mouth twitching up in an almost smile as she listened to him go along with her like that.

If he was going to continue on with her charade, who was she to break character first and ruin it?

Mundungus appreciated the fact that Amelia had said ‘when’ and not ‘if’, even if he wasn’t sure it meant she was being realistic about their chances or this was some Gryffindor bravado. Was she a Gryffindor? He had no idea, but he hoped she wasn’t because while Hogwarts houses didn’t matter anymore, he still didn’t want to owe his life—be it saved or doomed—to a Gryffindor. “Ya got yourself a deal, luv,” he said, and Merlin and Morgana he would do all of that for Amelia if—no, when they’d made it out of this fight.

“Yeah, yeah, just.. need a smoke,” and about four shots of firewhiskey, but he at least didn’t mention those. He would do with lighting up another cigarette, and clicking his tongue at her cheeky question. “Aye, aye, I know how to cast one,” he quipped back, finding that this light banter between them helped soothe his nerves. Of course, he was still scared, he would’ve gladly left Amelia to fight for herself, but he couldn’t, could he? Not when there was talk of a trip at the pub afterwards.

“I’m not so convinced they specifically need me help,” he said, because of course the fact that Mundungus was going to follow Amelia Bones back intro battle didn’t necessary mean that he would do so in silence. At least not while they could still talk without risking their lives for it. “And first we were like rushing and now ya are suggesting a whole wardrobe change, really, luv, make up your mind,” he teased her, but with his wand firmly clutch in his hand, he had no doubts about where he was going. “Bet ya three galleons and five sickles, I’mma stun more of those wankers than ya,” he offered, right before apparating back to the Potter Estate.

When they had left before, it had been only them into the study. But now, someone else was there to ‘greet’ their arrival, and it was not with kind words and some tea.

Mundungus reaction was simple: “Duck!”

Amelia offered a soft grin when he said they had a deal, and she was absolutely looking forward to it. Not only for the drink, and a new place to go, but also because... well, she wouldn't truly be Amelia if she didn't use this opportunity to tease Mundungus, and then use that to tease her twin with too, would she? But those were thoughts for later, not when they were headed back into the scene of a battle.

Still, she laughed when the other said he needed a smoke, and smirked when he quipped back at her. "Good, at least you're useful then," She quipped playfully. Her face grew a little more serious, however, when he mentioned that he wasn't convinced they needed him. "It's not about you, shockingly enough," It was back to trying to be a little lighter, but still serious, "They need all the able bodies they can get, to protect them, and to do the right thing. That's what's important here."

Snorting when he teased like that, Amelia rolled her eyes and quickly apperated after him. "Bet!" She called out in response as she got there, before her eyes went wide at seeing someone else was there as well. She ducked at his words, wand already shooting a disarming spell at whoever else was in there, without a second thought.

The fact that people thought the House of Bones was haunted didn’t sit well with Amelia. Neither did the idea that they would be silly enough to be scared by it, or worse yet, not like it. It was an amazing home! Sure, it wasn’t their childhood home in Mexico, but it was their family home. Amelia had lived there for how many years? And she’d turned out completely fine, hadn’t she?

The thoughts continued to plague her, and so she’d decided to see just what she could do. It wasn’t like the house was really haunted, but if people were going to assume that... then what was the harm of playing into it and pretending? Maybe it could be a little mean, but if people were so preoccupied with their own prejudices about the house, that was their own fault and not hers. Or, at least, that’s what Amelia thought.

Which was what had led her to be heading down the hallway, talking to herself under her breath in Spanish. “Alright, if they want to act like that, then we’ll give them something to take from it. Let’s see how this goes,” She muttered. Finally, she stopped, cleared her throat a little and then let out a rather loud gasp, as if she’d heard something and was surprised by it. Acting. She could do this, yes?

“Richard! No! You are not allowed to say things about our guests like that!” She spoke, rather loudly, in English, “They are here for a good cause, and they were invited in! Were you invited in? No, you know what, don’t answer that, I know what you’re going to say and it’s the wrong answer. You need to stop being such a pompous prat!”

“Much appreciated,” he quipped right back, because Mundungus was too nervous to just shut up.

“Ya ain’t going to the right pubs, if that’s your opinion. Gonna take ya to one if we manage to get out of this pickle. First pint is on me,” he said, though he didn’t like his own use of ‘if’. But his own fear was put for just a moment aside when Amelia offered to buy a new jacket, as if this look could be achieve by buying an item and not instead stealing it and perfection it over time. Right now his jacket—black leather that had become soft and a little worn with use—was far from what it had originally been. From the hand-stitching of constellations and flowers, to the added pins of music bands and Quidditch teams. 

But he couldn’t say anything right away because Amelia had disappeared and he couldn’t but follow her. Not that he needed to be told, since he was happy to put the ‘little scuffle’ behind him.

“Ya can’t just buy a new one,” he said, trying not puke right after that and putting the box down. “This is…” he took a big breath, making sure his stomach was done being upset by the apparition, “…one of a kind.”

After that, it was one other breath, this time to ready himself for Amelia’s next orders. “What now, boss? Are we…. are we going back?” he asked, with a little sigh in his voice of someone who could feel the answer would be ‘yes’ and had already given up on convincing the other person not to head back into battle.

"When we get out of this, I'll expect that," Amelia stated, a little firmly, "And I will absolutely expect you to buy me the first pint, and show me what your idea of a scuffle is. Maybe it'll lead to me finding a good pub to go to, finally." Not that she was going out to pubs too much lately, not on her own, but it was an idea for later. If anything, she was more focused on the fact that he'd said If, and wondered just how little faith he had in all of them with that comment.

As he appearted with her, Amelia couldn't help but roll her eyes at the indignation she heard in his voice. "You gonna be okay?" It was a teasing smirk at first, raising an eyebrow at him when she sat the box down and turned to face him. Then she continued, "If it's one of a kind, then you'll just have to be careful with it. You know how to do a shield charm, yeah?" It was amusing, really, to hear the sigh in his voice, the way he sounded defeated and knew what she was going to say. As if she would pick anything else, truly.

"Back into the fray," She chirped simply, twirling her wand in her hand, "Of course. Those are our people back there, and they need our help. So, put on your big boy pants and let's head back. Make sure we've got everything. Help keep those rest of us safe, and then we plan out that pub trip, yeah?" She grinned.

He quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at her forceful words. Irritation flared up in the back of his mind, but he pushed it back. He knew Edgar’s sister was a rather stubborn witch, so this was not unexpected. He held her gaze for a long moment before he spoke. He gestured with a hand. ‘ They’re not friendly books, ’ he said in a flat voice, rather strongly understating their tendency towards pride and ugly temperament, ‘ and they don’t know you. If you want to take your chances and see how much they like getting jostled around by strangers then be my guest. ’ He paused. ‘ Just be sure to leave a note for Edgar first. Let him know it wasn’t my fault his sister is a stubborn witch. ’

Just in case she was stubborn enough to rub her hands all over a pile of cursed ancient books, he reached out and pulled an old tome towards himself. It was ancient, yellowed pages and worn edges, if it had a title at some point it was so faded as to be unrecognizable at this point. Beneath his touch, the pages ruffled, as if taking a deep, unsteady breath. He looked up again. ‘ Except this one. ’ He might be willing to see her get temporarily cursed, but he supposed even he had a limit.

⚖️

Amelia snorted faintly when the boy said the books weren't friendly, and rolled her eyes at him. Of course they didn't seem it, the one was showing something very unflattering indeed, one couldn't say that was friendly at all. Still, his words got under her skin and she narrowed her eyes at him in response. "I never said I'd jostle them," She retorted plainly, "I know how to take care of books, even if they're not the friendliest." She'd punched the bookshelf before after all, not the books that had been flung at her. Those she'd picked up and carefully put to the side, because those were what mattered.

She pursed her lips then, because well, he wasn't exactly wrong to call her a stubborn witch. But her free hand visibly clenched into a fist, because she didn't exactly like others pointing it out, especially if they weren't Edgar or someone else very close to her. Instead, she ignored his comment about the book and just shifted on her heels a little. "Then be a smart child and move them and yourself to a different location. Sit on the floor here for all I care. But get out of my spot, before I forcibly move you. The books can stay even. But that's my spot," She spoke with an almost huff to her voice.

Bones. Ah … the other one. He’d never met the witch before in his life, but Edgar had enough fond thoughts of his sister and rather a fair number of emotionally charged memories that it was difficult not to form an opinion before they’ve even met.

The books he gathered and spread on his table shivered and rattled in what could either be malice or delight. An old and untitled tome he’d borrowed from the Malfoys a year ago opened to a seemingly random page down the middle, where an ancient recipe for an eye melting poison, ironically, stared back. The gruesome, inky illustrations across the page moved in slow and deliberate detail as they demonstrated it’s effects.

The book did that every fifteen minutes, like clockwork. Severus was told it meant the book wanted attention, and he had thus far not been given reason to disbelieve this information. Still, he looked up at the witch and gestured flatly towards the book like it had just won him an argument. ‘ The book said no, ’ he replied. ‘ If the book doesn’t like you this can’t really be your spot. ’

⚖️

Amelia held the book to her chest like a comforting blanket, watching the boy in front of her and glancing over at the book that was on the table. She couldn’t help but raise her eyebrow at the tome and especially at what it showed. She wondered absently what he would need something like that for, or if there was something else in the book he was looking up. However, she wasn’t about to judge him for looking at some recipe for eye melting poison; no, she’d judge him for not getting his ass out of her seat.

“The book can sod off if it doesn’t like me,” She retorted simply, “It’s not in charge here. It’s my home, and it’s my spot. So, I’d advise you to gather your grumpy book and move somewhere else.” She moved her own book to one arm, motioning towards the books that were strewn about on the table, adding on then, “Or, I can sweep them up for you and move them and you can follow along, or just lose them.”

“I’m using all the ones I have at the moment,” Mundungus quipped back, quickly. He really didn’t want to have any of his dear bones broken. And not just by Amelia—nothing personal! “So maybe some other time, luv, but thanks for the offer.”

The cigarette was firmly between his lips, he seemed to know how to avoid getting ashes on the papers and making sure nothing caught accidentally on fire. His hands were a little less gentle in handling the paper but nothing to torn. It resulted in a mess pile inside the box, but a mess that of documents all in one piece. 

“A little scuffle?” Mundungus was afraid of pain. Afraid of feeling a lot of pain, feeling a little pain, of ending in Azkaban, of dying. He was afraid of many things. “This ain’t a little scuffle, luv. Thursday night at the pub when the Quidditch match is on, it’s a little scuffle,” and even those nights were no joke, “this is… well, bollocks,” he cursed, as he took the other box. “I’ll follow,” he added, reluctantly, yet he was truly ready to follow Amelia’s lead. At least for now. 

“But if me jacket gets ruined, I’mma be pissed.”

⚖️

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind for next time, leave the offer on the table,” Amelia quipped back just as easily, smirking to herself at the thought. No, of course she wouldn’t ever just go and break one of Mundungus’ bones, that would be very rude indeed. But teasing him about it and seeing just how nervous she could make him? Well, she wouldn’t rule that out entirely.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his words, letting out a laugh. “That sounds like a pretty tame idea of a scuffle,” She teased, “And this is war. Bollocks things are bound to happen. Get with the game, yeah?” She snorted then, looking over his jacket and playfully wrinkling her nose, as if judging him. “If it gets ruined, I’ll buy you a new one,” She said, a light offer, as she moved then to apperate to the House of Bones to get the box to safety, knowing he’d follow.

the House of Bones library was woefully inadequate compared to some of the pureblood family libraries he was privy to. But the dearth of scholarly material provided a good opportunity: he won’t be so easily distracted by tangents and unrelated topics if the distractions didn’t exist. And thus Severus brought the books he anticipated needing with him — a variety of options from a variety of libraries that surely won’t be missed from their previous homes — and settled into an alcove between shelves, hidden enough not to be easily spotted and thus disturbed, anticipating a long stay as he poured over the texts.

It was a few hours later, well past noon, that a shadow fell across the pages of the book in his hands, and he looked up, lips twisted unpleasantly. ‘ You’re blocking my light source. ’

@justicebones

In the days after the battle, Amelia had felt amped up, on edge, and needed to be constantly moving. That was mostly done with either bringing those still at the House of Bones food and drink and checking in on them, or burying herself in her work as much as possible. She had finally started to calm though, and had returned home to spend a quiet afternoon curled up in the library. She’d missed that feeling, and decided it was going to be the best way to spend her day off.

She walked into the library, taking a deep breath in and letting her shoulders relax. She walked around absently, fingers running over the books as if she hadn’t read them all before. She was looking for something familiar though, something soothing, and smiled softly as her fingers landed on the book she was looking for. With that, she picked it up and moved to go sit in what she had always decided was her spot... only to find someone else sitting there instead.

“And you’re sitting in my spot,” She retorted to him simply, “So I’d advise you move to somewhere no one will be having to block your light source, yeah?”

“Well, I was thinking more Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade, but now I like the idea of the Ministry’s lobby even more. So, please, yes, right in front of the fountain in the lobby,” Caradoc said, and while he was still speaking in jest, there was a part of him that couldn’t help but think even in this moment of levity about how to turn something silly and innocent in an opportunity to create a distraction. It didn’t matter how much he tried, or who he was with, his mind wanted always to come back to one thing and one thing only: the war. 

It was a good thing that he knew how to compartmentalise his thoughts, and so nothing of all these hidden machinations came to the surface of his expression. Caradoc kept his posture relaxed, his face showing ease and amusement even as he lost to Amelia. After all, if there was one person he would gladly lose to was Amelia Bones.

“I should thank you for the vacation. And if I were ever to forget to do it, I’m sure my father will send you flowers and some of his homemade Daisyroot Draught,” of which Caradoc disapproved greatly, but to anyone who had tried it tasted excellent. “One last walk along the pier before we head back?” he proposed, not ready to go back but knowing they couldn’t stay here much longer. Back in London, work awaited both of them.

Amelia couldn’t help but grin even wider at hearing Caradoc’s words. “Right? It’s way more interesting if it’s in the middle of the Ministry lobby. Maybe it’ll get some of those stuffpots at work to actually lower their noses. That or one of these days I’m going to make it rain in their offices, so they drown,” She stated lightly, as if it were all just fun and games. It was, really, but they still tended to annoy her greatly, even if she wouldn’t fully admit that.

“You should,” She giggled out then, “And I’m sure he will, and I’ll be thankful and make sure to tell him the great tale of me beating you.” She smirked lightly then, bouncing lightly on her feet again, still excited about winning. At his words about a walk, she smiled and nodded her head to him. “A walk along the pier sounds great,” She hummed out, reaching out to grab his arm and playfully pull him along, to walk awhile before they had to go back.