Rufus runs on scotch and grumpiness and babies (isentropic) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-02-15 21:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-02] february, amelia bones, rufus scrimgeour |
Who: Amelia and Rufus
Where: Map Room, Barracks 2
What: Talking about babies :O
When: 15 February
Status: Complete, logged
Rating: R for RUFUS
Rufus sat hunched over a large table that had been constructed roughly out of the nearby woods, coffee in one hand and pencil in another, trying to decide which targets in Diagon and Hogsmeade would send the loudest message without harming innocents. He was focused right now on the Lestrange Library, and drew a slow circle around the building immediately south of the library. What was this, he wondered, and a little question mark reminded him to ask about it, for the proximity might prove a difficulty, unless it was another purist building.
Right. Buildings. Explosives -- how ironic that years of law enforcement made it substantially easier to find contacts for illegal substances -- volunteers. They'd have to do this quickly, as they had no way to bypass the curfew. In and out, no resources for fighting. He sighed.
There weren't very many places to find some one in their little settlement in Gairloch but Amelia had already wasted a great deal of time checking in every other possible location. She breathed a small sigh of relief whens he saw him and walked halfway across the room before realising that she might be interrupting some very important business.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, clearing her throat, "but I have to ask you something."
Her voice seemed surprisingly loud in the dead silent room, and Rufus looked up, startled expression turning into a softer one. "I could do with a bit of an interruption," he said, leaning back and stretching (and almost spilling his coffee all over himself). "Want some coffee?" And he gestured to the opposite chair. He had to admit that 'I have to ask you something' from Amelia made him a bit nervous, but he hoped it would be something benign and not a sudden decision to leave camp or be pregnant or anything. "What's on your mind?"
Crossing the remainder of the room, Amelia took a seat in the chair opposite Rufus. She knew this was probably a stupid idea, asking permission to bring a baby into camp, but it might be temporary. Just until she could convince her brother that having two children at once instead of one wouldn't be so awful. Sarah would be far better equipped than the rest of them to raise Jeremiah's daughter. It was temporary. Right.
"Jeremiah's daughter was born yesterday," she said, watching him closely. "He wants me to take her."
Rufus stared blankly, unsure that he quite comprehended what she was asking -- if she was actually asking something -- or just telling him so he could laugh at what an idiot Smith was. But she didn't seem to be laughing, so he really didn't think it would be a good idea to burst loudly with hilarity. Awkward. "To take her." He said slowly, hoping a clarification would make things slightly more sensical. "Take her where?"
"Well," she said, "he doesn't know where I am, obviously. I don't think he'd care one way or the other. But...well, here." She wasn't exactly sure what to say - it sounded like an even worse idea when she said it out loud.
"I know it's a bad idea," she added, as if acknowledging the stupidity made it slightly more rational. "It would just be until I could get in touch with my brother. I guess the only thing is -" And this was going to sound silliest of all. "I have to tell her the location before bringing her here, if, of course, you're even all right with that."
Rufus held his cup of coffee somewhere between the map and his mouth and he still wasn't sure he understood. "The baby? But isn't it. Just a wee thing? Doesn't it need its mother? For. You know. Things." He couldn't quite bring himself to say breast-feeding but he assumed Amelia would know what he meant. She was a woman after all.
"I suppose we could shelter them, I just don't know if this is the best place for a baby. We're going to have explosives here starting mid-week..."
"Already?" Amelia raised her eyebrows and looked at Rufus' coffee cup. She was quiet in thought for a few moments. "Maybe I wouldn't have to bring her here. Sarah's baby is going to be born soon. I'll just tell him that I can't take her until then." That made a lot more sense.
"I'm sorry. I guess this whole thing was pointless."
"No, it isn't pointless. You're trying to do a good thing." Though Rufus couldn't imagine who'd want to do a good thing for that prat, Smith, he supposed there was no reason the baby had to suffer for his cockery. "Why does he need protection for the baby? Isn't he a pureblood?"
"It's not for protection," she said with a sigh. "He just doesn't want it - her. I don't think he has anything to worry about, since he is a pureblood and officially neutral. But he's not really altruistic enough to think of other peoples' safety before his own - even his family's." While she was sure that somewhere within Jeremiah there was a capacity for compassion and other things like that, she couldn't deny that his instinct for self-preservation trumped just about any redeeming quality he could possibly possess.
Rufus's eyebrows shot up. How could someone not want their own baby? That was against the laws of physics or nature or parenting or something. What a damned weirdo. He knew there hadn't been something right about Smith the moment he'd first talked to him, and this just seemed to prove the hell out of it.
"He can't just give away a baby! Has he even asked his wife?" That was a dumb question. Why was he even worrying about Smith and his stupid domestic problems. His fingers trailed the pencil across the map and he fretted simultaneously about the Smith situation and how they were going to get bombs into Hogsmeade and Diagon without anyone noticing. "Maybe you should tell him to go to hell and try to act like a parent?"
"Yeah," Amelia said, looking doubtful. "That'll get through to him."
She rested her head on her hand and sighed again, but in that way that women sigh when they think happy thoughts about their own futures. "Do you ever want kids, Rufus? I think you'd make a lovely father someday."
Rufus was glad he hadn't gone for a sip of coffee because he was sure, in this instant, that he might have choked on it. Oh my god, how do you answer that kind of question without some sort of time to prepare for it? "Um." The pencil fiddled in his fingers and he tried to contemplate himself holding a baby.
"Maybe if things settled down enough that I could go home. I don't think I like the idea of kids growing up with their Dad in the office all day." That didn't quite really answer the question, though. Did he want kids? "It'd be nice to have kids some day, yeah." He could feel the tips of his ears growing uncomfortably warm, but tried not to notice -- which was about as helpful as a third elbow.
"Well, after all this, of course." She waved her free hand around as though that should have been a given in this Very Hypothetical scenario. She fought off the urge to add something like 'if we're still around then' - if she allowed herself to indulge in that sort of cynicism, she wouldn't have even been able to plan a day ahead, let alone however many months or years to whenever this war or whatever it was would be over.
"It would be nice," she said before clearing her throat and straightening up in her chair. "But I'll let you get back to work. I didn't mean to bother you with this."
"You're never bothering me," Rufus said very certainly; though he wanted to tell her to stay, he knew he had to get these things figured out before the night was over so that he could organise the troops -- as he'd taken to calling them in his head. "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Of course." Amelia smiled and leaned over the table to kiss his cheek. "Don't stay up too late."
She pushed in her chair and left the room to go back to her own. Explosives and babies? She must have been out of her mind.