Baz

I can't listen to this anymore. He'll look for anything he can in my words for proof of conspiracy, anything that proves Simon is anything less than what I believe. Say's it's because Simon is close to the Mage, not to be trusted. I'm not that stupid.

His composure will crack later, because of what I've told him. He always does this, gathers information first, feels later. Like with my mother. I can see it burning behind his eyes, waiting to explode in private. Everyone always tells me I'm like my mother, but I think I'm like him with this, in a way. Except I favour towards portraying the opposite emotion of what I'm feeling. Or so I've realised.

Several years after everyone else.

'Please see all interactions with Simon Snow up until your eighth year at Watford for reference,' they would say.

Merlin, it's a miracle we even managed to co-exist in the same room all those years without breaking the Anathema. All those years, playing a game of cat and mouse with him. Vampire? Or not a Vampire? He'd followed me down to the catacombs a few times. He lingered, never going down to the tombs. Afraid of the dark, I think. He found the dead rats once, drained. I'd been careless; I think he thought I'd left them as a joke, to tease him for thinking me a vampire. He'd started wearing a cross after that.

He told everybody that listened, once he'd fixated on the idea. It had been like a mantra, "Baz is a vampire, here's why." No one believed him, Merlin, I think most people just thought he was jealous because he'd been kicked of the team.

He would have told Penny, but Penny's not that stupid. She'd need proof, to see it for herself before she ran off to the Mage, if she did at all. Agatha, well, Agatha probably wouldn't have cared, if she'd believed him at all. There's no one that would have believed him enough to tell the Mage, except-

If no one else knew, Son, there is no other way the Mage could have learnt the information than from Simon.

Oh, Christ.

Simon

When Baz appears, I almost knock over my chair in my haste to stand. His eyes are all red again, and he looks pale. A different sort of pale to his usual vampirey complexation, the sort that makes him look like he's somewhere else, in his mind. I think he must have told his father then, about what happened. I know it's probably a good thing, but I don't like that he looks so far away. I go over to him, wanting to bring him back.

"Hey," I say, touching his arm. "You okay?"

He nods, a little shaky. "Father will want to speak with you in a moment."

I blink. "Oh," I say, my hand falling away, "right, yeah. Penny's, um, out in the garden, I think. If you want to find her."

"Probably not a good idea for Father to find me speaking to her right before he does."

He won't meet my eye, and I'm not quite sure what's wrong. I've seen him cry before, so it can't be that. But he has a point that, his dad would probably think she was fact-checking or something.

"Right," I say, running a hand over my hair, "probably not a good idea, yeah."

He offers me a small smile, and soon he's disappearing behind another door. I haven't been in this house long enough to quite know where it goes. Malcolm appears in front of another, silently waiting for me. I gather myself, best as I can, and follow him into the room.

-v-v-

I sit, pulling at the knees of my jeans. Malcolm's made tea; put some in front of me. I haven't decided if it's a good idea to drink it or not. We've been here for several minutes, and he hasn't said a word. He just goes about drinking his own tea. I can see Baz in him, in the way that he sits. Looking down at you while they sit, all cavalier in manner whilst you slowly lose your composure.

That's what I'm doing. Losing my composure.

And he just sits, holding his tea.

I glare.

He takes another sip.

"Are you going to ask me any questions or not?" I grit.

He blinks at me, silent.

I bunch the fabric of my jeans. I know what he's playing at. Baz used to do this to me, when I was frustrated with him. Which was the majority of the time back then. He'd stare at me, slowly destroying any confidence I had until I was left stuttering over my words. In fairness, it had actually been a pretty good tactic. It usually resulted in me storming over to my bed and staying there, pissed off and confused as to how he'd done that.

This was a game of authority. Patience.

I need to wait. Something I've never been good at.

I'm not about to start now.

I exhale, "look, I'm not sure what you said to him, Sir, but Baz looked right put out. So I think he must have told you what happened to him, and you want to know where exactly I fit into all this?"

He stirs his tea, "and what did happen to my son, Mr Snow?"

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I should have blood asked Baz if he'd told him. I don't- If I'm wrong and Baz hasn't said anything, and I do first… Baz will ever forgive me. I swallow, hoping that whatever I say is coherent. "Well, it's why we're here, and not at Watford."

He looks at me sharply, "is it."

It's an accusation.

Why are you only here now?

I shift, "well, yes. I mean no- It's a part of it."

Shit, that came out wrong. Why the hell hadn't I- we should have left sooner. If I'd listened, and not waited until I was quite literally hit across the face with the truth-

"Part of what, exactly?"

If he's accusing me of only leaving when I was hurt, then I'm going to take the risk of assuming Baz told him what happened. I breathe, "Sir, I know you saw Baz at breakfast this morning, and like I said, I think he must have told you what happened, considering the way he was when he came out of this room."

"And as I said, what happened?"

I try to relax, "Listen, I know what I said, but if I'm wrong… I don't- I don't want to say something he isn't yet read to say to you, Sir."

Malcolm studies me, for a moment, and something in the way he's composed changes. He sits back in his chair, taking a breath. "Mr Snow, if you wish to stay here, with even the smallest amount of my trust, you are going to have to help me understand exactly how you fit into this."

I draw back, "you think I…"

"I don't think anything, Mr Snow. I speculate."

I pick at my jeans again, "I swear if I knew what the Mage had been planning, I would have… The school would be needing a new headmaster, Sir."

Malcolm ignores the comment, "how long have you known of Baz's condition?"

"It doesn't bother me, if that's what you're asking."

Malcolm ignores the comment, "I'm asking you how long you've known."

I try to meet his eye, "not since last Christmas, Sir. I'd wondered, loudly, I'll admit, for a few years before that. Though I swear I never told anyone, proved it. Especially after I knew for sure."

"You didn't think that suddenly ceasing your accusations would raise suspicion?"

I sigh, "I think most people just thought I gave it up, Sir." It's true, maybe in the younger years people listened, but we were more gullible then. Most seemed to assume I'd grown out of the idea. I hope.

Malcolm taps the side of his teacup, "you were here last Christmas, you said it was for a project?"

I nod, "we were working on something."

"Schoolwork?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. He can help, I tell myself, but he has to know what's going on. I breathe, "something more important, about Baz's mom."

Something changes in Malcolm again, and I think I might actually know what he's thinking for the first time. Merlin, I think I even understand.

"Why would you have any interest in such things?" he says, voice the faintest bit quieter. Once again, I only notice it because I've noticed it in Baz.

"I know Baz went missing," I say. "He told me what happened, but when he was gone, the veil lifted. I saw Natasha, I think she was looking for Baz. I was there instead, and she told me something; wanted me to tell it to Baz."

Malcolm's stare loses its steadiness, for just a moment. "May I ask what she said?"

He misses her, I realise. Obviously, I'd assumed that, but I'm seeing it now. I only wish it was a message that he'd want to hear.

"She said her killer still lives."

-v-v-

I tell him what happened, how we went looking for Nicodemus. He bristled as the name, and I thought of the photo of Fiona and Nicodemus. Thought of Ebb losing her brother. I didn't tell him what Baz tried to do, that night in the forest. I'm not sure if it's my place to tell. I tell him what the Mage did, and why. How Penny figured it out. I'm guessing she's going to get the interrogation of a lifetime. I tell him about what happened with the potion, about my magic. Why we ran.

He's right, about needing information to trust me. I guess I got to show a little trust myself.

When I'm done, he excuses me, gives me directions to the kitchen for food.

Probably shouldn't tell him I'm all too familiar with how to get there. He doesn't tell me to get Penny, so I expect he'll find her himself. I want to find her myself, but I remember what Baz said, about Malcolm thinking we were fact-checking each other.

I better find Baz then.

Except maybe he wants to be alone for a bit… He'd been a bit reserved earlier, quiet. Maybe I should check, in case it's one of his 'don't come near me, but please done leave me alone' moods.

Yeah, I should probably check.

But which way did he go?

Daphne

I don't know how impressed Malcolm will be with the small ball of fluff currently being cradled by Mordelia, but I expect he'll be dotting on it in a matter of hours. For now, the poor kitten must endure the gentle but persistent petting of the girls.

Its name is currently being determined. Ugly, has been proposed, curtesy of Josephine. Spot, by Evalyn, despite its lack of spots. And Carrot, by Mordelia. Due to its bright orange colour, that seems to be the most appropriate. Poor Evalyn just keeps repeating 'spot' not quite able to manage any other names just yet.

I expect they will be getting hungry again soon, and will likely insist on bringing the kitten to the table with them. Some boundaries, for the kitten's sake, will have to be set. For now the little ball of energy seems content playing with Josephine's ribbon, an adventurous spirit, clearly.

"Hello-" someone says, the door creaking open, "- oh, sorry."

"No matter" I call, before the boy can close the door behind him. "Do you need help finding something, love?"

He steps inside, if not hesitantly, "I- yes. Someone, actually."

I offer a smile, "Miss Bunce is in the garden, though I'm afraid I'm not quite sure when my son has gone too."

He fidgets, playing with his sleeve, "if you see him, could you tell him I'm looking for him? If it's not too much trouble?"

Poor boy looks terrified. If Malcolm's tried scaring him somehow…

"If it's not too much trouble," the boy adds, a bit quickly.

I smile again, "of course, love. Though, I must ask you how you managed to find your way to this room?"

"I, um- Baz showed me, last time I was here. He was looking for some old photos," he says, nodding to the assortment of portmanteaus and chests of to the side. "Sorry, I can leave if-"

"Nonsense," I say, "you're quite welcome. Now come sit, meet our new kitten. Basil has told me you're quite good with animals."

He starts, as if surprised, "he did?"

"Yes," add Mordelia, "he says you herd goats."

He snorts, "I'm not sure about that."

Mordelia, bless her, pouts.

Panic overcomes the boy's face, and I want to laugh as he rushes to correct himself. "I mean, eh, Ebb is the real goat herder. I just help out. I do like goats though, and cats, I think."

Josephine squints, "you think?"

Simon sits, "I've never, um, really met one before."

Josephine looks quite horrified at this revelation. "Never," she whispers, looking at the new kitten in wonder. I'm not sure she realises that she has never actually known at cat until now either.

"Well, I've seen them," the boy offers, "a bunch of times."

Josephine seems to consider this, before gesturing to the ball of orange on the floor. "This one is called Ugly," she says.

"That's horrible," says Mordelia, turning to Simon, "tell her he's not ugly, Simon"

Simon blanches, mouth gaping.

"Girls," I say, saving him, "why don't you let Simon have a turn holding the cat, and you can run and get us some morning tea? How does that sound? Take your sister with you."

Mordelia scoops up Evalyn, giving a noticeable huff, but cooperating none the less. Josephine, however, does not seem convinced. "Joci, love," I say, "you can spend time with the kitten in the moment, Simon will take good care of it while you go with your sisters to the kitchen."

"Why can't I stay here?" she argues, decidedly not moving.

Mordelia groans, "come on, Joci. Mother wants to talk to Simon about grown up things and wants us to leave. There's fresh jam in the kitchen anyway."

"Jam," says Evalyn.

Jam, it seems, does the trick, and Josephine follows after her sisters, though admittedly with her lip curled in the familiar Grimm fashion.

I turn to Simon, who looks about as comfortable as a snail in a salt bath, "Mordelia is a little too smart for own good, I'm afraid."

"Malcolm has already talked to me, mam," he says, head bowed a bit.

I scoop up the kitten, who is mostly asleep now, "don't worry love, I only wanted to ask you if you were alright. My husband can be a bit fixated once he wants to know something."

Simon reaches a finger out to pet the kittens head, feather light, "I don't mean to cause any trouble."

"You haven't done anything of the sought, you brought my son home safe, and that matters more to me than anything else."

The kitten angles its head for Simon to scratch. "It was him that brought me here," he says quietly, rubbing the kitten's cheek.

He's guilty, I realise. "Maybe so," I say, "but I have a feeling you've been looking after Baz for quite a while now."

"He's my friend," he whispers.

I watch him carefully, "Simon, did my husband say something?"

He shakes his head, quick to correct me, "no, it's just- we're just friends. That's it."

"Simon, love," I say, "it only matters to me that you care for my son, now how you do. I can't tell you how much relief it brings me that Basil has someone he trusts."

"I trust him too," he whispers, the kittens purring almost louder.

And that's enough for me.