InsaneJournal

Who: Oscar, Edgar, and Amelia Bones
When: Thursday evening
Where: Oscar's kitchen
What: Trying and failing to compromise
Rating: PG-13; strong language
Status: Completed log

Knocking a couple of times on the back door, Edgar let himself into his brother's house and walked through to the kitchen, setting a six pack of beers down on the table. "Peace offering," he explained, glancing to his brother as he dragged a chair out and sat down, rubbing his eyes wearily. It had only been a couple of days since their last argument, and the last time he had spoken properly to his siblings; he had still seen Amelia hanging around the hospital, but save for offering her some peace and quiet in his shared office, he had left her alone. Alastor needed her and she needed him and, well, that left Edgar in quite a redundant position. But also, if he left her alone, they wouldn't argue. He didn't want to argue any more. Even though their tense and bitter moods had sparked off just a couple of days ago, it had been going on a lot longer than that. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when the three of them had started pushing one another away, but it was happening, and if they didn't do something to address the issue, things were only going to get worse. Cracking open a bottle in anticipation of what was to come, he took a careful sip and looked anxiously to his brother. Edgar really hoped that when Amelia arrived, things weren't going to kick off in their usual explosive manner. He'd had enough conflict to last him a lifetime. Oscar had his back turned when Edgar let himself into the house, though the sounds of footsteps didn’t alarm him in the least. He’d spent the better half of the day reorganizing shift work and trainee sessions with Gringotts so that he could better help out Dess. Gringotts had basically had enough of what they’d called “infantile family drama” but he knew that they needed him, and that Des was doing better didn’t really give him reason enough to care for their disapproval. Des would always come first. That this ‘sit down’ was a long time coming, was a bit of an understatement, the cohesion they all had as siblings had all but dissipated since Oscar had come back, but it wasn’t something any of them were willing to let continue. Changes would have to be made, and they were all going to be honest, brutally so, if it meant that they could work through this. That Oscar remained generally out of the loop about this war, didn't mean he didn't recognize the severity or see the effect it was having on everyone, but especially the people he cared about. They all had differing opinions about the situation, but as far as Oscar was concerned that didn't change the fact that they were family. Right or wrong, they had better damn well start supporting one another. "Beer," Oscar mused, when he turned around from getting a few glasses from the cabinet, not sure that they’d even need them anymore. The suggestion that the three of them would need alcohol to get through this, was a little alarming, but Oscar merely ruffled Edgar’s hair and took a seat beside his brother (the middle of the three chairs). "You shouldn’t have," he gave Edgar a reassuring smile, the smile itself dulled by the week's stress and frustration. Edgar shrugged and toyed with his bottle. "Least I could do," he muttered, glancing over at the clock on the wall. He wasn't looking forward to Amelia arriving; he could handle his brother's rare moments of anger, but Amelia was different - she knew how to hold a grudge and she had perfected the art of silent treatment. And Merlin have mercy, she was so stubborn when it came to being right. "I think I liked her better before she knew how to hex me," Edgar mused. Oscar's brows raised and he took a sip of the beer. "You might want to keep that to yourself or else she'll do exactly that," his smile was weary, if not tight, and the room filled with silence as he set the bottle down. "Though, I think I liked it better when she wore her hair in braids," he added after a pause. Amelia was a long ways away from the innocent little girl who wore her hair in braids, and right now, she felt like it. She could hardly imagine a worse week, between the McKinnons and the Gumboils. She was stressed and bloody exhausted and frustrated that she couldn't seem to do anything that would fix things, and was spending the majority of her time cooped up with Gryffindors, and when she wasn't doing that, she was looking at photographs of horrible gruesome murder cases. Had it been just one or even a couple of those things, she might've been able to take them in stride. As it was, Amelia had been generally more tense and snippy than usual these past few days. Still, she didn't enjoy fighting with her brothers, and it was never really her intent to do so. It was just...well, her personality seemed to be the tender and flint that set Edgar off in just the wrong way. Amelia's philosophy - especially right now - was that it was because he was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors seemed to be generally incapable of taking criticism without getting horribly defensive. She wondered if this was useless. She wanted her family back, but Edgar was right. She was not okay with the person he was turning into, and she wouldn't be unless he made some changes or compromises or something, which he also seemed to be incapable of doing. She didn't knock, but the brisk footsteps of her heels against the porch announced her arrival. They paused for a moment outside the door while she pinched the bridge of her nose, preparing herself for this and wondering if she didn't need another cigarette. She decided against it (as she'd just had one, and really, the amount of stress smoking she was having to do lately was getting ridiculous) and let herself in the door. Amelia raised her eyebrows at the fact that both her brothers were drinking, and bypassed the beer herself. "Evening." She removed her light cloak and took a seat on Oscar's other side, running a hand through her hair tiredly and crossing her legs. Edgar inclined his head in acknowledgement that Amelia was altogether much cuter in braids - and that life had definitely been easier when they were kids - and took another sip of beer. Why had he brought beer? They were going to need something a lot stronger. He looked up as Amelia walked in, and then quickly dropped his eyes back down to the table. "Evening," he muttered, hunching his shoulders over. Oscar had heard Amelia's approach, but his eyes remained on his brother, sighing heavily at Edgar's reaction. A forshadowing, he was sure. "Hello," Oscar offered, leaning over and pressing a kiss into the side of her hair in greeting. She looked tired, something you should never tell a woman, but she looked as they all did. Worn out, exhausted, two factors that would make a civil discussion near impossible. "How is Al?" he asked seriously, attempting to curb some of the tension in the room. If facial expressions hadn't seemed like a massive amount of effort right now, Amelia would've sneered at the cowed look Edgar wore. She didn't feel sorry for him. She wasn't sorry she'd yelled at him - not any of the times she'd yelled at him. Sometimes she was sorry about the things she said when they argued, but she didn't yell at him when he didn't deserve it. But looking anything other than very, very tired was beyond her capabilities at the moment. She allowed Oscar to kiss her head, and then sighed. How was Al? She'd barely left his side in days, and she could hardly tell. "He's...quiet," she replied, looking away from both of them while her mind left her brother's kitchen for a moment. Fidgeting with the glasses on the table, Edgar glanced sideways at Amelia, holding back from what he wanted to say. He pushed his chair back and stood up, silently taking the glass tumbler to the sink and filling it up from the tap. "Here," he muttered, placing it in front of his sister, returning to lean against the kitchen counter, his arms folded over his chest. He opened his mouth again and promptly closed it, glancing down at his shoes. Well, if this wasn't the most awkward situation he'd ever been in, he didn't know what was. "And you?" he ventured uncertainly. Amelia glanced at the glass of water as Edgar put it in front of her. Merlin, if she'd known the options were going to be beer and water, she'd have brought her own beverage. Well, she had plenty of brandy at home, if this went badly. She looked up, turning her eyes from one brother to the other. The answer she delivered was one she'd been practising saying just right - just coolly enough to imply that it was a ridiculous question to ask and not open for discussion. "I'm fine." And why shouldn't she be fine? Sure, a man she'd been friends with since she was eleven had been mauled by a werewolf and her boyfriend was more or less traumatised and the woman who was practically her second mother had had her tongue cut out... But that was all the more reason that she should be fine. Because everybody else wasn't, and somebody needed to be fine enough to get things done. Hearing about Al, Oscar refrained from giving some banal comment on how things would get better in time. It wasn't the time or place, and no matter how much he believed it, the meaning would be hollow. Nobody needed to hear it right now, especially not when they were at the end of their tether. Amelia's cool response to Edgar's tentative question was evidence enough. "Alright" he said after a moment, heading off whatever Edgar would have instinctively responded with. Looking between his two siblings he let out a sigh and pushed the bottle of beer far enough away that he could set his forearms on the table. He might as well cut the stiff small talk before tempers sparked and this was over before it had a chance to begin. "This," he gestured to the three of them, "isn't going to work if we aren't going to be completely honest. We aren't fine" he caught Amelia's gaze, before eying both of them warily. "So, I think we start with that." Edgar eyed his sister sharply. "All right," he conceded, glancing over at Oscar. "I'm not fine with certain people in this room throwing accusations and blame around left, right and centre, thinking they know what the situation is, when they actually know bugger all." Pressing his lips together to stop himself from going off on one, he shrugged. "You asked for honesty," he reminded his brother, a bitter tone creeping into his voice. Amelia managed not to snap at Oscar that her answer hadn't really been an answer, it had been an indication that she wasn't going to talk about it. That wasn't what they were here to talk about. She was beginning to think this was a mistake already, and she knew it was a mistake when Edgar opened his mouth. She turned toward him, fixing him with a steady, level stare. "How dare you," Amelia asked quietly. "How dare you endanger this family and try to play it off like it's all okay? No big deal. They murdered my partner's wife. They nearly killed Al's brother. And it wasn't personal with either of them; all they've ever done is their jobs. I am done absolving you of blame when you persist in goading the wolves." Edgar folded his arms and glowered at his sister. "Like I said," he replied, his words clipped short. "I'm sick to the back teeth of certain people presuming they know everything about every damn situation." "Well you haven't exactly been forthright have you Edgar?" Oscar's voice spoke up above the thick tension. He should have expected them to fire off at one another immediately, how stupid of him to expect otherwise. "You do not deserve to be blamed for everything," he shot a look to Amelia, he may have shared that majority of his opinions in this manner with his sister, but he did not agree in the way she'd gone about expressing them. "However, you're upset because you think our accusations are groundless because we don't know what's going on. That's on you Edgar," his gaze was steady on his brother's. "We know as much as we've been told, and sometimes that's you flippantly mentioning that we may be attacked by werewolves." his tone was level and calm, ignoring the bitterness in his brother's. He was going to approach this calmly and with an open-mind, he was determined that they would as well. "We--" he stopped, not wanting to speak for Amelia when he was sure she would voice what she thought herself. "I don't understand Edgar." Edgar held Oscar's pointed look for a moment longer, before turning around and leaning on the kitchen counter, letting his head thud against the cupboards overhead. What was he supposed to say to that? He had no argument, no clever put down; Oscar had hit the nail painfully on the head. How was Amelia - how was either of them! - supposed to understand the whole situation when he wouldn't explain anything to them? Swallowing thickly, he gripped the counter edge tightly, his knuckles blanching. "All right. What do you want to know?" He pulled his head back from the cupboard and glanced over your shoulder. "But this stays in this house no matter what." He looked at Amelia; he couldn't start being honest with her until he was sure she wasn't going to arrest him. It was the biggest thing holding him back right now. Amelia clenched her jaw. She wanted to scream at Edgar that if Fenrir Greyback or any of his pack spilled one drop of Bones blood, it was on his shoulders. She wanted to get up and storm out, find Al and hold him and comfort him as she'd done for the past few days, where she could pretend to be the strong one and not have to acknowledge that it was just as much of a comfort to her. She didn't really want Edgar to stand there and try to explain himself, because Amelia couldn't think of any justifiable reason for the way he had been acting, and the more she knew about what he was doing, the more she would have to lie about. So she just sat there, her stony expression not softening at all. If Oscar wanted answers, he could go for it, but Amelia wanted no part of it. Or at least, she thought she didn't. The part of her that was a professional didn't. The part of her that was Edgar's sister, the part that had kept her from turning him in so far...that was the part that wanted to demand of him how he thought treating his family this way was in any way acceptable. But, torn between the two, Amelia stayed silent. Oscar watched as his sister struggled with herself, knowing that ultimately this was Amelia's decision, and it was the only way that they could move forward. He knew that this was hard for her, but that she didn't object, or storm out at Edgar's offer, was answer enough for him. With some measure of trepidation Oscar turned his attention back to his brother. Oscar knew that part of the reason why Edgar was keeping so much from them, was his belief that the less they knew the safer they'd be. But more glaringly was that Edgar obviously felt responsible for the other members of his group as well, and his secrets weren't just his own. Oscar understood and respected that, but he wasn't concerned with the other members. He cared about Edgar, and why this family had become involved along with him. "Why don't you start with the werewolves," he said finally, figuring that it was as good a place to start as any. Always with the damn werewolves. Why was it they were always brought up first? Edgar turned around to face his family properly, his hands closing around the counter top behind him to grip it relatively loosely. "Greyback attacked an innocent family and was boasting about it. I couldn't let that slide. In hindsight, I should have, but I couldn't." He shrugged; there was no other way of explaining. Either they understood his incorrigible complex for defending perfect strangers. "Don't think I don't understand the damage he can do," he continued, trying to catch Amelia's eye. "But that doesn't mean I can passively sit here and watch him maim people! Say we were just some family he didn't know but ended up attacking anyway, and no one stood up to him. What the hell is wrong with this country if we all think it's okay to sit back and let some psychopath get away with this shit?" Amelia's lip curled just slightly. She knew this part. There was no secret justification for what he'd done; he was just as stupid as she'd suspected. He was talking about a serial killer as though he was a bully on the playground taking people's lunch money, as though all he needed was somebody to give him a good talking-to and put him in his place. The only way to solve this was to kill him, and for whatever good intentions Edgar had had, he had started a problem he was incapable of solving. She was so angry her hands would've been shaking, if she hadn't clenched them both into fists so tight her knuckles were white, her nails digging painfully into her palms. Only Edgar could bring out her temper this way; she had never, ever been so angry at another human being as she could get at him, not even Freya. "What is wrong with this country," she began dangerously. "Is that we have a pack of untrained civilians running around painting targets on their backsides, just begging murderers to come after them. I get that you want to help, Edgar, I do. But you are disregarding safety in the process." Oscar listened silently as Edgar did his best to try to make his siblings see, and while he could understand in great detail the need to defend, to protect, he was confused by Edgar's perception of things. He needn't be confused by Amelia's, she made that perfectly clear. As much as he agreed with what she was saying, he didn't want this to turn more sour that it already had. "I wasn't aware that this country was just sitting back and allowing any of this to happen," he mused, calmer tone trying to quell the outrage both had expressed. The lines of his mouth deepened into a frown. "Is that what this is? You think the DMLE, the aurors aren't enough?" Curious, Oscar leaned back in his chair, wanting to understand the group's mentality. "What makes you all more suitable for the job than someone like Alastor?" "Because Alastor's held back by laws!" Edgar shot back. He groaned quietly, rubbing his hands over his face; he was letting his siblings fire him up when he needed to be rational and calm. "Look, it's not like we're about fighting werewolves. My grudge with Greyback has nothing to do with," he waved his hand in a vague explanation, "you know." "Our acting Minister was imperiused," he reminded. "You think the Ministry hasn't been infiltrated by Death Eaters? You think the DMLE is free of moles?" He shook his head, exhaing sharply. "At least with what I'm doing, there isn't a risk of corruption." Amelia's heart seized up at Edgar's quick response. So there it was. She had suspected they were doing things that would be considered illegal, but she hadn't wanted to-- She stood up abruptly, just managing to catch her chair before it toppled over backward and went crashing to the floor. She couldn't sit here and listen to this, her own brother discrediting everything she and so many people she trusted and cared about had dedicated their entire lives to. Even if he was right, to a point. Corruption certainly had its place in the Ministry - Amelia wasn't naive enough to think or pretend otherwise - but that was politics. There were ways to work around it, if you had the right allies and knew the right maneuvers. Of course, it was too subtle a science for Gryffindors to give credit to. "Isn't there? Who holds you back?" Amelia fired back accusingly. "What makes you above the law? You don't trust us? Fine, fair enough. At least you get to see what we're doing and criticize to your hearts' content. But who do I get to send owls full of itching powder to, Edgar?! Because I don't trust anyone that doesn't operate within a very clear set of rules." She folded her arms across her chest, looking at him derisively. "And don't tell me you rely on your morals because that is crap." Gods, if that's seriously what they did, she might just vomit; she didn't think she wanted him to answer that. "Everyone has their own best intentions at heart - even Death Eaters - and their own methods to get to them. At least I know the Aurors won't be burning down towns anytime soon." "Edgar," Oscar had started slowly, not at all liking the sound of what he was suggesting. And then Amelia spoke up, or rather stood up. He was worried for a moment that she would leave as she had so threatened before, but as she berated Edgar, he could only rub a hand down his face tiredly. He supposed that this was good, they were all finally telling one another exactly how they felt, but it was turning out to be far more than he expected. "As angry as you might be Amelia," his tone stern, "you can't honestly believe that your own brother can't be trusted." He didn't like where Edgar was going with this any more than her, and even if he believed this "group" had a backwards mentality, he knew that he could put his faith in Edgar. "You're walking a fine line though Edgar," he turned back to his brother, mouth grim. "That these Death Eaters have no respect for the law, for human beings is what separates them from us. If you say the Ministry is corrupt, I can believe it, but I think Amelia is evidence enough that you don't simply give up on it. It sounds like your group has taken things into their own hands, but I wonder if you've even given anyone else a chance, or simply assumed that you all knew better." Edgar stared at his sister in shock - that was a low blow. Oscar was talking and he was trying really hard to pay attention but all he could think about were those damn fires that they had lit in retaliation, something he had never even supported in the first place, and the life they'd taken. True, it was probably for the best that Jack Nott's unholy spawn hadn't been given the chance to be twisted to his philosophies, but that really didn't justify what they had done. And he couldn't even agree with Amelia, because admitting that the Order had faltered on that matter was just leaving them wide open to even more criticism. Great. "Having respect for the law and having respect for human beings are two completely different things," he corrected, dragging himself back to the conversation at hand. "There's no fine line about it - I don't go around torturing and maiming people. I'm not like them." He looked at Amelia and folded his arms, still raw from the mention of the fires, although he was determined not to let her know how hard it had hit home. "I have faith in you, Amelia, just as I have faith in Frank as an Auror - but I don't have faith in your department. And maybe you need to stop relying so heavily on strict rules and regulations and open your goddamn eyes, because you're not doing as good a job as you seem to think you are. I'm willing to bet, past the Lestranges, you don't know who the hell the Death Eaters even are!" Amelia's eyes narrowed. He was talking to her like she didn't know what was going on in her own world again, and it pissed her off. "It's not about rules and regulations. No system is without its flaws; I know that. It is about checks and balances. It's about being able to stop people from doing things that they shouldn't, but think are okay because they're scared and these are desperate times. Well, we're all scared and desperate! If we all just went around doing what we thought needed to be done, with no-one to tell us no, what would we have? Chaos. Anarchy. And then a strong personality steps up to offer control, and we have a tyranny. Three guesses on who would jump at that chance." She shook her head, dropping her arms and turning away slightly, but she caught sight of Oscar and recalled his reprimand. "I can believe it," Amelia said coldly, though her voice shook. Edgar was her brother, but there were only so many stupid blunders, so many broken promises and lies that she could stomach. Oscar bit into his cheek hard, giving Amelia a long look. "That's because you're frightened and angry," he was willing to suggest it even if she'd retort with another reason behind it. "You know your brother better than that. That he needs to be reminded of a few things, doesn't change the fact that he's still trustworthy," he turned his atention back to Edgar. He'd noticed just as much as Amelia the change that had happened in Edgar, but as superficial or circumstantial as Oscar believed them to be, for him that didn't change the Edgar he knew at the core. Oscar wasn't going to make any conclusions until he better understood this thing and Edgar was affording him that opportunity. "And there is a fine line Edgar," Oscar contended calmly, referring back to his previous statement. "I know you're not a murderer, but how exactly are you going about fighting them? What methods are you taking?" he didn't know but he suspected and it worried him. Licking his lips he sighed, "and are you saying that you know who the Death Eaters are?" Whilst Edgar appreciated his brother's faith in him, he did not appreciate the questions he was being posed. Agreeing to be honest with them was much harder than he had anticipated. "Of course I'm not saying that," he replied, automatically reverting to lying to them because it was what he knew and what he had been practising for so many years. He hated lying to his siblings (and, for all his experience, he still wasn't that good at keeping his poker face) but it was just so much easier than going into the incredibly shady details surrounding that damn list of Death Eater names, especially considering how unimpressed Amelia was already. "And I don't know, I'm not... I don't actively fight," he answered, beginning to rebuild the walls that had kept his siblings out for so long. "I'm just a healer, that's all. Is that really so illegal?" he posed to his sister. Amelia had, over the course of her life, perfected a certain type of look. It was the type of look that said perfectly clearly that she knew when she was being fed bullshit, and it was the type of look she was giving Edgar now. "You must think I'm so stupid," she said quietly. Years of lying and dodging and averting... Amelia noticed things. She noticed how irrationally upset he'd been when Andromeda Tonks and Dorcas Meadowes had been arrested. She noticed how he leaned on Frank Longbottom when he wouldn't lean on his family. But she refused to sit down and make the connections in her mind, because that would open up so much that she just wouldn't be able to ignore anymore. If she ignored it, she wasn't covering it up. But she didn't appreciate her brother thinking the wool could be pulled over her eyes so easily. She plucked her cloak from the back of her chair, speaking scathingly. "Well, this has been enlightening, really." "Amelia, sit down," Oscar's voice snapped, offering no room for argument. His gaze didn't waver until he was sure she'd do exactly that, and then it was his turn to express his frustration. "No one is leaving here until we come to an understanding," he looked between the both of them, jaw set. "And we will be coming to one, because I am not going to go through another month of arguments and scathing remarks because everyone was too pigheaded to try." Oscar exhaled heavily through his nose, and looked away, shaking his head. "You're angry, scared, and you feel insulted," he gestured to Amelia, "but you will be just as much at fault if you don't stop attacking him and at least try to control your temper. Accept that there is a possibility that there are things you don't know. You act like this is already a lost cause, and I won't allow that kind of attitude. And you," he turned his attention to Edgar, almost at a loss. "You've made some serious decisions that have had serious consequences for our whole family, but I've given you the benefit of the doubt because I want to understand, and you were willing to be honest." He steeled his eyes. "Don't throw that back in my face." "I might not be so involved as the two of you in this, but you're all I have, and I'm not going to let this war destroy this family any more than you are. So," he set his jaw,"let's start again." Trust Oscar to put his foot down. Whilst he would have ignored it had it been Amelia telling them both to stay, he couldn't argue with his brother - he didn't want to and, unfortunately, he realised that Oscar had a point. "I don't agree with everything that gets done," Edgar started, glancing at his sister, "that we do, but when it's a means to an end..." He trailed off, not entirely sure where he was going, and inhaled deeply. "What I told you," he told Oscar, "about Jack Nott being a Death Eater - I don't care what it took to get that information, knowing who our enemies are was worth it." He raked his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up; why the hell had he agreed to this? Likewise, if it had been Edgar instead of Oscar telling her to stay, Amelia would've told him where he could shove it. Even when it was Oscar, it was a near thing. She didn't particularly feel like being handled right now, and she couldn't see how they were going to come to any resolution, short of one of the two of them doing a miraculous one-eighty in opinion. It seemed to Amelia like a waste of time; the only thing this had accomplished so far was putting her in an even worse mood than she had been. But she sat, and lay her cloak across her lap, the hard expression still on her face. She wanted to snap that she didn't fucking care about Jack fucking Nott, who her brother had been swearing was evil for the better part of a decade and never had any proof. But that would just get them all yelling again - really, just about everything she cared to say right now would get them yelling again - so she adopted a more leisurely position in her chair, crossing her legs again and settling in for the long haul until she was dismissed. Amelia turned her attention toward the glass of water on the table, dipping two fingertips in it and then running the pads of them around the rim idly. "But how far exactly are you all willing to go? I know that peace-" Oscar held up a hand, correcting himself, "is worth everything, I won't disagree with that. These people need to be stopped. But Amelia was right when she asked you about boundaries, who holds you all accountable? Or do you care" he guess it was the latter. It seemed to Oscar that these people wanted to put an end to this evil, and they would do so at any cost. It seemed narrow-minded to Oscar, well intentioned, but he worried. "If you know who the Death Eaters are then you shouldn't be simply taking this into your own hands. Not everyone in that Ministry is corrupt," he threw a glance to Amelia, "and when it comes down to the severity of this war, I highly doubt those as well-intentioned as you are going to do nothing with the accusations you presented. You could have worked with them, but you've all chosen not to. And you say that it's due to restrictions on the laws well," he rubbed a hand across his jaw, "that makes me think that you've done things that could easily put you in Azkaban if you even tried revealing what you know, because if that wasn't true you would have done it already." Or maybe he was getting it all wrong, he just didn't know. "I know that you're going to do this no matter what we say, and I understand your reasons why, but I'm worried about you Edgar and the safety of this family." Looking up at the ceiling, Edgar was really regretting agreeing to this. They weren't achieving anything - or rather, Amelia being here wasn't achieving anything. She was just so damn stubborn! At least Oscar was trying. Deep down, he knew that the reason why his sister infuriated him so much was because the two of them were too damn similar in their temperaments but, headstrong as ever, he refused to admit that. "As a group, we're bending the law," he admitted, still bitter from Crouch's latest stance on them, "but me personally?" He looked at his siblings and sighed in exasperation. They could keep running around in circles but so long as Amelia refused to listen to him - and so long as Edgar refused to listen to Amelia - nothing was going to change. This was a complete waste of his time. "Forget it," he muttered, taking his suit jacket off the back of the chair and slinging it over his shoulder. "I'll talk to you about this later," he said to Oscar, deliberately directing it away from their sister. He was only going to attempt to reason this problem out with someone who was actually going to listen. "And as for you," he looked to Amelia, his voice softening. "I'm sorry. I really am, munchkin. There's nothing I can say that's ever going to justify this to you." Knowing that Amelia no longer hero worshipped him as an older brother knocked him for six, leaving him standing uselessly for a moment as he tried to recover from the realisation. He leaned down and quickly kissed the top of her head before she could object. "I love you. Always have, always will," he told her, picking up his half finished beer and walking out the door. Amelia did not look at Edgar again, jerking away from him just slightly when he kissed her on the head. Sorry, sorry, he was always sorry. He'd been taking advantage of the fact that they always forgave him - even Amelia always forgave him, eventually. Well, she had bloody well had it. She didn't say anything more until Edgar was gone, just scowling down at her water glass. When it was just her and Oscar, she finally looked up at him, raising her eyebrows. "Well," she began wearily, beginning to sort through the folds of the cloak on her lap, searching for the pockets. "I don't know about you, but I need a fag." Amelia didn't tend to smoke (or even admit that she smoked) in front of other people often, but if there was ever a time. She'd only taken to carrying a pack around with her at all times recently; she never knew when she was going to find herself in need of a bit of stress relief nowadays. Oscar wouldn't have let Edgar go had he believed that he was wrong, even seconds after he'd just told them all to sit down. But even Oscar's optimism could only make him believe so much, and he didn't even watch Edgar brush past them, his eyes unfocused and staring at the place Edgar had once been. He felt old, tired, like he was losing his grip on something he should have been strong enough to hold on to. Amelia's weary comment about smoking went unacknowledged, and Oscar rubbed at his jaw. "Why Amelia?" he sighed finally, tearing his gaze to hers. He wasn't asking about the cigarettes either. Triumphant, Amelia withdrew her cigarettes from her pocket and propped one between her lips, lighting it with a spark from the tip of her wand. She took a long drag and settled further into her chair before she even thought about a response to that. "Why what?" she asked, leaning her elbow on the table and watching the smoke from the cigarette between her fingers trail up toward the ceiling for a moment. Her anger had left with Edgar, and just like that, she was back to her usual calm, logical self - though admittedly with a bit of an edge to her. "He's right; I'm never going to be all right with it." As much as she loved Oscar and knew it was hard on him to be caught between his feuding siblings, Amelia wasn't going to sit here and apologise for her opinions, nor the fact that she was quite steadfast in them. She wasn't going to apologise for having a different philosophy than her brother, or even for thinking his was completely stupid. Really, none of that was even the problem; Amelia got into political disagreements all the time. The part of this she had a problem with was that he consistently endangered people she loved, and she would never be okay with that. If it was anybody but Edgar doing it, she'd have taken care of it in any way she could long ago, but as it was her brother, all she could do was beg and plead and command him to stop - none of which he ever heeded, of course. She wondered as she ashed her cigarette idly into the untouched glass of water whether Al's offer to lock him up still stood. "Yes, we're all very aware of that," Oscar considered finishing off his beer, but pushed it further away from him instead. "Edgar already knows that we aren't alright with what he's doing, but that wasn't the point of this. You don't listen," he shook his head, not impressed with either of them at all. "If there was ever a chance of Edgar considering our side of things, it's gone out the window now hasn't it? The very fact that he even came here should tell you that he wants to find a way to make things work. Hell," he gestured towards her, "the fact that you came here means that so did you." "Edgar isn't going to change his mind about his involvement in this 'group' but he needs to see that his actions are having consequences to this family. And now all he sees is that we don't understand so to hell with it." He exhaled through his nose, and looked away from her. "You're both so stubborn, and it's going to cost you your family," this time he did go for the beer. "You'll have no one to blame but yourselves." Amelia raised her eyebrows slightly as she returned her cigarette to her lips. They had so little faith in her, her brothers did, she thought. Just because she knew what she believed, didn't mean she'd never considered the other side. "Of course I understand," Amelia replied, a slight note of incredulity creeping into her voice. "Hell, find me one person in law enforcement who wouldn't. Even today, I watch murderers go free without spending so much as a day in Azkaban and think, 'Someone should punish them. I could do it.' No paperwork? No red tape? Only justice. Of course I understand." She exhaled twin streams of smoke out of her nostrils, tapping hot ash into the glass again. "I can't condone vigilantism, but that's beside the point. Edgar and I have coexisted for the past seven years this has been going on, while maintaining different opinions," Amelia continued calmly. "Even as this war escalates... gods have mercy, I hope they're intelligent enough to stay out of the DMLE's way. Until the day he puts me in an extremely difficult position" - one that she hoped would never come - "I see no reason we can't continue to do so." Amelia looked up from the grain of the table to meet Oscar's eyes pointedly. "I could get into so much trouble for it if anyone found out, but I'm willing to keep my mouth shut. All I ask in return is that he do the same. I don't know what he thinks he's doing with those werewolves, but I don't have to: getting mixed up with them in any way is a bad idea, and as long as he continues to ignore the dangers..." She shook her head. "If anyone else was putting this family in jeopardy in such a way, I would have silenced them a long time ago, by any means necessary. There is no excuse. None. It makes me wonder if he even cares what happens to us." There really was nothing Oscar could say to most of that, because it was exactly as he felt. He wasn't in a position of law enforcement (even a self-appointed one like Edgar's) but Oscar was as morally persuaded as the rest of them, he wanted those who committed wrongful acts to be properly punished; that this same idea affected his two siblings in such different ways was where he found himself caught. How to create a middle ground where it was impossible to do so. The way he saw it, Edgar had allowed for the mentality of this group to override common sense, and he could see plain as day that certain values had been replaced, or reshuffled in terms of importance. He could abide by Edgar's need to protect, but he wouldn't stand for that. "That's ridiculous, Amelia," he returned her pointed look, "he may have made a mistake, but he will always care about us. Our safety. I'm sure that's why he started all this," he gestured without much feeling, weary once again, "unfortunately it's taken on a new meaning." They'd had this conversation before, both suspected that it was members of this group that had become their replacements. It wasn't hard to see why, just as they did, Edgar had a protective streak in him a mile wide, but his was paternal and if any of the members were looking for someone to look up to, Edgar would swiftly take over that position. Like a Father to his children. Oscar wasn't saying that looking out for these other people was wrong in any way, but he wondered how many of the Order members actually had families of their own. Edgar did, and he should realize that the degree of his involvement should be dependent on that. "You know that I agree with you, but if we want to keep him from pushing us away, then I need you to be less confrontational. It goes exactly the same for him. At the risk of sounding naive, despite differing beliefs, we can get somewhere." Amelia shrugged slightly. She wasn't the sort of person who had a lot of faith in people to begin with. As her brother, Edgar had more in his cache than most, but even he didn't have a limitless supply. He'd been steadily picking away at her trust in him for months now, making repetitive mistakes without much time in between to spend building it back. A bratty little voice in her head said, let him run off to them. If Edgar didn't recognise his real responsibilities, it was no skin off her nose; Amelia and Oscar were capable of functioning independently, and her life would certainly be less conflict-ridden. Asking Amelia to be non-confrontational with Edgar might just have been laughable. She, at least, had never had problems with honesty - maybe her problem was that she was a bit too honest with Edgar, but she had never seen the point of acting otherwise. Whatever the case, Amelia had several pressing problems to deal with without trying to perform a major personality shift in the midst of it all. Maybe what they needed was a nice, long break from each other, she thought, rubbing her forehead tiredly. Deciding that this was a good enough working solution for the moment, she made a non-committal noise and took a long final drag, then dropped her cigarette in the water, where it was extinguished with a satisfying hiss. Amelia waved her wand and vanished the murky contents of the glass, and then stood to fasten her cloak around her neck. "I'm going back to St. Mungo's," she said tiredly. When was the last time she'd slept in a bed? Amelia didn't remember, but short naps in uncomfortable hospital chairs were better than staying awake all night at home, knowing that everyone else was worrying over somebody in a waiting room. Oscar sighed at her lack of response, and was forced to accept that this was as far as they'd get tonight. "I'll be there in an hour," slightly despondent he stood from the chair, picking up the beer bottles and moving them to the sink. "I'll see you then," he supposed, wondering if it was better to give her space. Between Des and Freya he was sure he could give it to her. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment and coming closer, bent down to place a kiss on her head. Amelia allowed him to do it, shrugging again. She didn't really care how sorry any of them were at this point; she just wanted to be done dealing with this for right now. "All right. I'll see you there," she said. Although the way she was feeling, she'd probably be asleep sitting straight up by then. A pang of protest from her neck joined the throbbing of what had been a very consistent headache over the past few days, and Amelia sighed. Time for another long night.