lionedgar

[lionedgar]

* .  ∙ •✧ * AMELIA BONES  —

⎯  ✴︎ “ Yes I am. And don’t pretend you wouldn’t have done the same thing. Now who’s eyebrows were these so I know who to look for? ”

▵ — “ So I may have done the same thing, but we do a lot of the same things. Anyway, the eyebrows. Tragically, not Goyle’s, but Crabbe’s nonetheless. The cake was mine. And partially yours, if you don’t chew me out. ”

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* .  ∙ •✧ * ANASTASIA NOTT —

⎯   ✴︎ Ana knew she’d lost him after she finished speaking. And because she knew he was a good and decent person, she was able to trace it back to what she said about Goyle. She backtracked her own brain to what she said. She should’ve spent more time on it. She’d just been so caught up in the idea of having to save them herself when she could that it came out and she forgot about the shock.

          She looked down before she nodded in agreement with what he said. “I have to remind myself that the reason is because this is our own direct way to help. And without us, where would those we help be? Even if it’s hard to hear that over just saying I’m only being selfish because I’m also afraid.” She paused and sighed. She wanted to ask if he just wanted to play hooky, but she knew they had things to do. “This is a mess.”

▵ — Edgar knew that it was lucky - life-saving lucky - that Ana was the one to see what happened that day. He was grateful for it - grateful for her - but the danger it put her in sometimes made him wish she never had to get involved. He knew she was relieved that she could finally share the truth with someone - he could hear it in her voice, in her heartbeat, every time they spoke. It was rare, in situations like there’s, to not feel alone, and when they had each other, they weren’t, not completely.

      But every regret - every time he thought she would have been better off and safer without him - he knew he was wrong, and the thought was as fleeting as his doubts about what he did. Edgar knew he couldn’t be alone, and he knew that she couldn’t be alone, either. When they had each other, things were easier. In some ways, they were even safer - even when they didn’t seem like it.

      “ Don’t say that, ” Edgar said quickly, shaking his head at her words. “ It’s not selfish to be afraid. It just means that you know what you’re doing is dangerous, and you keep doing it anyway. ” He paused as they walked, keeping his cane in his hand and choosing instead to follow along with her footsteps beside him. “ You know how bravery is the trait everyone associates with Gryffindor? When Amelia and I were sorted into Gryffindor, dad used to tell us that the only time someone can be brave is when they are afraid, ” Edgar explained slowly, and half-smiled. “ It was probably one of the most profound things he’s ever said to either of us. It also made the most sense. ” 

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susanspecers

Susan had to laugh when the man spoke. She looked down at the can in her hand before she looked back at him. “It’s no problem.” She coughed slightly to stop her laughter because at that point it felt rude. “But do most people mean to drop their suspicious cans when they trip?” She said with a small smirk.

“That’s the short version?” She asked raising an eyebrow. Her smirk turned into a genuine smile as she continued. “And I thought my job was dangerous. All I got is people throwing quaffles at me and the threat of bludgers to the head. You got stairs.” She laughed rather loudly. She had meant what she said to more humorous than offensive. 

When she attempted to hand him the can again, she realized why he wasn’t taking it. Guilt instantly filled her as her gaze dropped to her feet. She gave a nervous laugh. “At pretending you’re drunk or hiding your injuries?”

▵ — It wasn’t the first time that someone didn’t realize right away that he was blind, and he hardly took offense to it. Edgar picked up on the fact that she didn’t realize the minute she didn’t touch the cane to his hand and then tried to stifle a laugh, and he really only hoped that she realized it herself, so he didn’t have to make her feel uncomfortable. He supposed it was a good thing he was wearing his glasses - it only would have made the situation worse.

      “ To be fair, ” Edgar said, smiling, “ I do have to climb a lot of them. It was worse at Hogwarts when the staircases moved. ” He was glad when she laughed, but immediately felt the comfort level lower when she realized what he was and what she said. He immediately smiled to diffuse the tension. “ None of the above. At falling down stairs and running into walls, ” he clarified, and smiled. He held out his hand carefully to ask her to touch the cane to his hand without really asking. Instead he said, “ You’re a Quidditch player? ”

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jacksonmitchell

⎯  ✴︎ “ Honestly, it’s what I’m here for. If it helps at least someone out to just unload, then I’m here. And you can’t exactly surprise me either. If that’s something you’re worried about. A lot of people have been. ”

�� — “ You must hear some really messed up stuff. I have to admit I’m curious - any you feel like sharing with a very tired lawyer? It’d be nice to think that someone out there is telling you some more messed up stuff than I could. ”

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lionameliabones

⎯  ✴︎ “ If it reminded you of our seventeenth birthday, Ed, then I think it wasn’t quite so accidental. Especially not fireworks. Or cake. If cake’s involved it’s not accidental. ”

▵ — “ Are you really quoting Uncle Dwalin at me? Is that what’s happening right now? ”

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lionameliabones

⎯  ✴︎ “ Merlin, that sounds awful. Really? Their eyebrows? On fire? I thought my day was bad. I’m still drinking this though. It was well earned. ”

▵ — “ And there were accidental fireworks. It actually reminded me a lot of our seventeenth birthday, cake and all. ”

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ananott

⎯   ✴︎ Ana nodded a “you’re welcome” before she remembered he couldn’t see that. “You’re welcome,” she said, hoping her smile shone through her words. Truthfully, she was happy to help even if she knew he didn’t need it. She was happy to help when it was something he needed help with too. She hadn’t felt completely alone with her side and hiding what she was doing before, but it hadn’t felt quite as solid or safe as having Edgar know too. Maybe he felt some relief there too, but there was a small part of her that figured it wasn’t quite the same.

         “Of course it’s Goyle.” She huffed a little through her teeth before she shook her head. “I can’t decide if it’s worse than him being in charge of missions. I heard he’s been giving ones out involving children more frequently lately. I’ve been lucky enough to get some to deflect but… I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this facade with all of this getting worse.” She could only control missions she was on, maybe get word out in advanced on ones she heard. It was just getting harder and they were starting to send babysitters after her.

         She could see the look and with the lack for words on the whole thing, she was sure he didn’t want to talk about the situation between him and the friend. She assumed something happened. Maybe they knew each other in school and drifted apart, maybe she was a part of the rebellion. It wasn’t her place to know even if she did worry about him.

         “I could patch you up some. Cover up the more prominent gashes. We should get inside. There’s empty rooms in the Muggle relations offices.”

▵ — Edgar was happy that Ana could be honest with him, and that he could be honest with her. At first he hated that anyone knew the truth about him, angry at himself for breaking the one promise he’d made to himself when he started doing the foolish thing and risking his life fighting murderers every night. But when someone else knew, it was like something had been lifted, not broken. He would never put Ana in danger but the thought of no longer being alone - of at least having someone who could take care of things, should it come to it - was comforting. He often hoped she knew that he would do anything for her.

      - involving children more frequently -

      Edgar barely heard the rest of Ana’s words after she said that. His hands tightened on the grip of his cane and he could hear his own furious heartbeat as the weight of her words crashed down on him, and he considered his own culpability. He’d been so focused on closing in on incidents specifically he hadn’t even looked at the assignments Goyle was handing out  to see what was really happening. How many children had been harmed? How many could have been saved?

      Edgar attempted to swallow down the angry taste of copper, like a penny had caught in his throat. He nodded once, twice, to let her know that he agreed, wishing he were better at hiding his own rage - wishing that he could help her and everyone else in the world. He walked in step at her side, silent for a moment. “ You don’t have to, you know. Keep it up. None of us do. But here we are. For some reason, here we are. ”

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jacksonmitchell

⎯  ✴︎ “ I’m not trying to sound insensitive when I put this so bluntly, but that really sounds like it sucks. Do you want another drink or two or three? I always get more things off my chest after two. ”

▵ — “ Something tells me that, as a bartender, you get more than enough people telling you all their problems all day long without me adding to your list. ”

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ananott

⎯   ✴︎ Edgar Bone was on a long list of people Ana had that she was making sure to look after. She had to be subtle with it for the most part, just like with everyone else she did her best to look after. She was covering a lot of things up and in truth it was getting really hard to keep from being noticed by the others. If it wasn’t for her name and the years of blankly reluctant devotion, she was she she’d be out of her job if not on the run if not worse. There were a lot of times she thought about just giving in to it, what she wanted. She wanted to be someone that wasn’t who everyone thought she was. She wanted to walk down the street and not have people keeping from making eye-contact for fear of her reporting them for something. She wanted to be hated by them.

         She wanted to be someone other than Anastasia Nott who insisted she goes by Ana and was constantly concealing the dark mark on her arm with a long sleeve and a bandage because maybe if she didn’t see it she’d forget it was there and was consistently being sent on missions where she was put in a situation she didn’t want to be in and hated looking at herself in the mirror.She hated Anastasia Nott. She felt trapped by her own mistakes that she didn’t even want to make in the first place.

         Maybe she felt like she was atoning for something carrying on like this and there was a part of her, a large part of her, that told her she deserved it. But that was what was different about running into Edgar. Helping him didn’t feel like something she had to atone for. She cared for him. She cared for a lot of the people on her long list. Helping them came natural. So when she saw him moving through the crowds, looking shit like usual, she quickly moved towards him. She was there to pick up the cane before she laughed a little at his statement.

         “You probably could have fooled the man across the street from us,” she said, gently touching his hand with the handle of his cane so he knew it was there. “One day I’ll see you and you won’t be covered in injuries. You need a friend at St. Mungo’s.”

▵ — Edgar was surprised when he made out the smell of Ana’s perfume before he even heard her voice. She had been the unexpected alliance - the one who had been there from the beginning, who snuck up on him. The one who was stuck. The one who was kind of like him. He smiled when she generously picked up his cane for him, despite being one of the few who knew he absolutely could have done it himself. 

      “Thank you, Ana,” Edgar said, wrapping his hand around the handle of the cane when she touched it against his ( scabbed ) knuckles. He laughed when she mentioned the man across the street, resisting the urge to ask which one?. “Even if I were going to work drunk, who could blame me? Rumor has it Goyle is on the prosecution today,” he explained, imagining that he could feel the bile in his throat even as he said Goyle’s name. Death Eaters disgusted him but Goyle was one of the worst. He was petty and childlike and he took advantage of this “new world order” more than any of the others did.

      And he was personally fond of the death penalty.

      Edgar hated him.

      When Ana mentioned having a friend at St. Mungo’s, both his stomach and his heart dropped, and he looked down as Emme crossed his mind.

      “I had one,” Edgar said slowly, choosing not to add that this friend was now on the run because of the people that the two of them were hiding amongst. While their guilt came in different packages it was a feeling that he didn’t need to invoke here, now. He imagined they both felt it enough. He paused before he continued. Ana was the only person in the world who knew, and what did that say about him? He didn’t even trust this with his closest friends in the world? “She has no idea.”

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▵ — Edgar was not looking good. He’d had cuts and bruises before from some stupid slip ups on his part, but most people overlooked those without giving it much of a second thought. Oh, he’s blind, that makes sense. At least, that’s what Edgar figured they thought - but perhaps he wasn’t giving them enough credit. On the whole, the majority of people avoided bringing anything up about his appearance at all, not knowing how they were supposed to act. This didn’t bother him much, though it seemed to bother some of his friends (especially Doe, who wasn’t afraid of yelling some obscenity or other to complete strangers; he loved her).

      But Doe wasn’t here, and he’d lost hard last night, turning his more typical cuts and bruises into a hackjob. It was almost unmnistakably a result of fighting, and the last thing he needed was people to start suspecting that he was capable of that. If he kept this up, sooner or later people would stop overlooking him, making his job much harder.

      Which is what has lead him to making some very stupid and public mistakes lately, which would have been embarrassing if they weren’t absolutely necessary. Edgar was walking down a busy street when he pulled what he decided would be his last one of the day, seeing as he’d made a fool of himself enough and it was barely even noon. He very tactfully tripped over his own two feet and, in the process, dropped his white can so that it clattered to the cobblestone ground. He nearly went down with it but ultimately decided that that was more than it was worth when he couldn’t be sure anyone from the Ministry was around.

      For the benefit of anyone who might have been around and paying attention to him now, he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “I swear I’m sober.”

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“You know, the only thing I remember from Sunday school is the martyrs… the saints, the saviours… they all end up the same way. Bloody and alone.”

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sybilwhither

     && - she recognizes edgar bones in half a moment - the line of his cane, the glasses that stand stark against his skin, the gait of someone taking just half a moment longer to forge a path due to waiting to determine if there are any obstacles. the smile remains on her face despite the fact he cannot see it - all rosy lips and quirked corners - and she gives a jovially put-upon sigh.      “i suppose i will have to speak with ninmey about being sure to answer the door when someone knocks,” there must be a reason the house elf decided against answering - sybil will ask about it. an unkind person she may be, but sybil likes to think she treats the house elves in her home with more respect and kindness than many other wealthy pureblood families. anyone works better when they are not shaking with fear too heavily to properly carry a tea tray. “my apologies that no one greeted you, mr bones!”      she had been made aware someone was on the property as soon as he stepped foot over her wards. some other might have rushed back to the estate, might have drawn wand to be at the ready should attack launch, but not her. there is little to fear from either side. the rebels use her information too often for them to turn on her, and the new order has no reason to doubt her loyalty. head tips at him in honest curiosity.      “under the bed is where one hides from monsters, not for a little privacy.” tone is mild, light, friendly. there’s something about edgar bones that strikes her as…different. not simply because he is blind, but because of how he carries himself. how he acts. what research she has done into him ( most covert and involving more than files and history ) has left the suspicion that he is more than he seems in the back of her mind. “besides, i’m sure you are more skilled at finding things than most would believe on first sight.”

▵ — It was hard to know what to make of Sybil - her sickeningly sweet behavior matched with the cruelty he knew she was capable of made him worry. Not of her loyalty to the cause, of course. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He’d never seen anyone willing to go so far for the rebels, except perhaps Sirius. What worried him was who she decided was getting in her way, and how she would deal with them.

      Which is what lead him here, now.

      “Oh, there’s no need to talk to your - Ninmey? I’m sure she’s a perfectly efficient house elf. I’m sure I didn’t knock loud enough for her to hear in such a large estate. I would have rung the doorbell but I can only imagine I’d spend more time pawing around for it than it was worth,” Edgar said lightly, and laughed. It was always easier to make light of his disability - it made other people feel more comfortable, mostly, but he suspected that was probably useless with Sybil. She never seemed uncomfortable, and if she did, he was sure the only way he’d be able to tell was by her heart beat. To the eye it would likely be completely undetectable. It also made things a little easier when people made comments like that.

      Edgar wasn’t particularly surprised at the sneaking suspicion that wove its way into her words. If anyone was going to figure him out simply by observation (and, surely, some snooping), it would be hear.

      “Only if I know where to search, Ms. Whither.”

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▵ — Edgar may not have been able to see the Whither Family Estate, but he could feel it. He’d heard enough about it, at least, to believe he could feel it. He supposed it felt a lot like Sybil herself - larger than expected, a maze to strangers, all dead ends and sharp corners. Edgar’s connections to the Rebellion were slimmer than he liked, even if that did make things easier - but he knew about Sybil. It was hard not to know about someone like Sybil. But she was good at hiding. If he wasn’t who he was, he might have never guessed she was a rebel.

      Edgar was careful when he entered the estate gardens, using his better senses to find her in the back gardens. He kept his white cane with him for show, as he always did when he was anywhere in public. Nobody could know how well he functioned despite his blindness. When her honey voice greeted him he couldn’t help but think of the dripping venom that came with it, poisoning any semblance of genuine kindness she might have been hoping to exhibit.

      “Not the house elves,” Edgar said, shaking his head and giving a half-hearted laugh. “I found my way back here when no one answered the door. Might want to re-think the hiding place, if even I can find you. I hear under the bed is a good one.”

     && - sybil is a sharp thing. she always has been, all angle, all cutting looks and smiles that are a touch too much teeth to be friendly. even here - among the gardens of the sprawling whither family estate - she is edged in a certain unsettling way. the estate is practically hers now. parents have moved to their large london property, and her siblings are scattered heavens knows where to do the bidding of the dark lord. the estate is an imposing thing behind her - like a prowling beast of fine marble crouched on a hillside, ready to pounce.      “well, i cannot say i was expecting company. did one of the house elves tell you i was back here? and here i thought this was the best hiding place on the estate.” voice is warm and smooth, honey rum off her crushed velvet tongue. sybil, sharp she may be, is skilled at being deceptively charming. hiding fang and scale behind rosy lips and tawny curls.

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