Amos Diggory (faith_amos) wrote in infaithwetrust, @ 2015-01-17 13:09:00 |
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Stepping inside, Amos pulled the door shut behind him and unfastened his cloak at the neck, chucking it in the direction of the hangers before heading around his desk. Once he was settled into the increasingly worn leather chair, he sent his heavy inbox a vaguely unimpressed look before reaching for the top folder. As he did so, his gaze landed on the framed photograph sitting beside the work.
Cedric, seventeen and handsome, beamed out of the frame, shifting a little underneath his Fathers arm. The Amos in the photo looked decades younger, a distant mirror of his son, features a little more weathered but the smile more or less identical. That photo had been taken at the Quidditch World Cup they had attended with Arthur and his family, before the emergence of the Death Eaters that had been the first clue how wrong things were about to go.
Amos' stomach gave a painful tug, as if someone had his organs on a hook. The sensation robbed him of his breath for a second. Suddenly desperate for a distraction, Amos dragged the folder closer and buried himself in text regarding Vampires and their latest demands for nighttime trials until everything else was pushed out. This was the only thing that worked now. The only thing that kept the grief from swallowing him whole. Amos didn't want to think what might happen if he lost it.