InsaneJournal

Who: Fabian and John Prewett (Fabian's father)
What: Peace talks
When: Midafternoon, 31 March 1998
Where: Fabian's office on Diagon Alley
Warnings: None.



When the door to the office, such as it was, opened, Fabian started to stand up to greet his prospective client. He'd just set the record player to play the A side of The Stranger; Billy Joel had begun to warble about the aspirations of overworked New Yorkers. Fabian was reaching for his wand to lift the tone arm when his father held up a hand to signal him to leave it, and himself, be.

"I thought," John Prewett said, "that I should bring your birthday gift round myself."

Fabian's eyebrows rose slowly. "We're talking then, are we?"

"Unless you're not talking to me."

A gesture indicated that his father should take the client seat. There might be tea--the office was set up for it--but Fabian didn't offer it just yet. Instead he settled on, "I'm willing to hear you out. Mostly because of America." With his wand, Fabian flipped the door sign to closed and pulled down the shade on the door. Whatever conversation was about to ensue was not for the ears of the public.

The elder Prewett settled into his assigned chair and put the ribbon-wrapped box on Fabian's desk. It was the reverse of the usual situation, in which Fabian was summoned to the paternal study for a recitation of his misdeeds and judgement thereupon, and both of them knew it. "I believe your mother and I owe you an apology. For both what we said the last time we spoke and certain of the incidents that led to it."

"Go on." Fabian, like a good (ex-)solicitor, was waiting for specifics.

"I'm sorry that your mother and I asked you to interfere in the matter of your brother. I'm sorry that I wasn't honest about my reasons for trying to send you to New York after you were released. I'm sorry that as part of a large series of mistakes we made, we lied to you about," and here John hesitated, "something that proved to be more important to you than we expected. Either at the time, or more recently. And I'm sorry that I misled you on certain matters to do with the estate." He paused, thought about it, and offered Fabian half of a smile. "I think we can leave it there for now, if that's enough."

Fabian's expression matched his father's. "It's a start." There was a long pause, and then he added, "I accept your apology."

It was funny, Fabian thought, how so many of his little tics were straight from his father's playbook, including the way their shoulders dropped a little with the release of tension. "And I'm sorry," Fabian continued, because it was his turn, "for certain prejudicial comments I made that night under the influence." He didn't specify what he'd been under the influence of, since it had been white-hot fury instead of alcohol.

"I accept your apology." Which completed the circle. "Would you like to open your birthday gift?"

"Let me get tea together first." Fabian rose from his chair and sought out the right tea from the chest, putting the leaves straight into the pot as they did in the office. The tea was acceptable quality, as Fabian didn't drink anything else. Once the water was at a boil and the tea was steeping, Fabian returned to the desk and, perching on the edge rather than sitting in his chair, opened the box. Inside was one of the plates from the family china set, repaired in the Japanese fashion. He removed it carefully from the box, holding it by the fingertips, nodding slowly by way of acknowledging the symbolism of the gift. "Thank you. It's just what I would have wanted, had I thought to ask."

"There's more, underneath." And sure enough, when Fabian set the plate aside on his desk and dug into the box, there were a number of folios of sheet music. "Your mother thought you might want another copy of these."

The corner of Fabian's mouth quirked up, this time with genuine pleasure. It was reassuring to be known for one's flaws as well as one's virtues. "Please extend my thanks to her as well." He decided the tea was probably ready and got up to pour.

"Fabian, about the house, you know that with our grandson having come out of the woodwork--" and there Fabian raised his hand to forestall anything that his father had to say, buying himself a moment by pouring the tea into the cheap muggle-style mugs he kept for himself in the office. He handed the first mug to his father and took the second one back to his own chair. There was no offer of adulterants; Fabian had learnt his tea-drinking habits from his father.

"There's nothing to be said. To the extent that I felt duty-bound to the estate in the absence of a firm settlement of the entail," which Fabian's tone said he hadn't, "I'm now completely freed from that obligation. You know, the value of my flat has appreciated quite a bit in the two decades since I bought it. I could sell it and get a decent-sized house in Upper Flagley or Tinworth to raise a family of my own."

John eyed Fabian with sudden suspicion over the top of the mug. "Is there likely to be a Mrs Fabian Prewett in the picture in the near future, then?"

"I have no immediate plans with any of the women I'm seeing, but I don't rule it out. I never have." There was no point in mentioning Gwen here; it would only invite interference that Fabian neither needed nor desired. Nor was there any point in testing parental goodwill too early.

"Well. There'll be a dinner sometime soon. Everyone in the family, including Molly and Arthur and their children. And your brother and his, ah, partner, and his son, should he choose to join us. And, of course, you and, ah, if you have someone you want to bring, your mother and I would love to meet her."

That earned a long moment of silence, during which Fabian absorbed the implications. "Let me know when it's scheduled and we'll see." And then the change of subject, since he and his father were apparently smoothing over the breach and behaving as if this were a complete return to normal: "So what have you thought of the Prophet candidate interviews so far?"

John Prewett leaned forward in his chair and opened his mouth. As was the case when he and Fabian got onto politics, he had much to say.