Babysitting:

Simon stared up at huge, dark mansion before him. He checked the paper he'd written on a week ago: Mordelia Grimm, age seven, and the address was written below that. Yes, this was the right place. He took a deep breath and let the large iron door knocker fall, the sound echoing in the slightly eerie quiet. He shifted from one foot to the other and readjusted the bag of activities he had brought. Eventually the door opened, but where Simon expected to see one of Mordelia's parents he found a boy about his age.

"Sorry about the wait, my parents gave the maid the day off. You must be the babysitter?" The boy was a few inches taller than Simon, and as dark, looming, and creepy as the house he lived in.

"Um, yea-yes, I'm Simon Snow."

"Right." The boy stepped away from the door, which Simon took to mean he should enter. Inside the house was about the same as outside, dark and gothic. It made Simon think of Dracula.

"Mordelia's in the library, which is through that door," the boy said.

"Okay, um, thanks..." Simon hoped the boy would fill in his name.

"Basilton."

"Basilton," Simon repeated. "Um, I don't mean to pry, but if you're going to be here why am I-"

"I have things to do," Basilton said shortly. "And I don't have the time or desire to attempt those things with my sister around. My parents are not home, as is the maid, ergo my mother called you. Any other questions?" Simon didn't have to be a mind read to know that Basilton didn't want to talk to him anymore, so he just shook his head. "Good. I'll be around, but I'm not to be disturbed for anything short of a house fire." Simon watched as Basilton disappeared into one of the many rooms connected to the foyer, then turned and found his way to the library where a little girl, Mordelia he assumed, was sitting in a large plush chair with a book as thick as her arm.

"Hello, Mordelia, I'm Simo-"

"Shhhh," she said, not looking up. Simon nodded slowly before finding a chair nearby. He pulled out his own book he'd brought just in case, and began reading, glancing up at Mordelia every so often. After about an hour and a half she got up, put the book away, and walked out of the room. Quickly Simon marked his place and followed. Mordelia was on her way up the enormous staircase that was the focal point of the foyer.

"I'm going to my room to play alone," she said to Simon.

"Um, okay, Mordelia. I'll be in the library if you need anything." Simon waited until she was up the stairs before returning to the library. He felt awkward not doing anything, but clearly Mordelia didn't want anything to do with him, so he continued reading. That is, until Basilton burst into the room carrying an instrument case. Before Simon could make his presence known Basilton had opened the case and was pulling out a bow.

"You play the cello?" Simon asked. Basilton flinched, then let out a long sigh.

"It's a violin. And yes, I play. Now I'll thank you to leave me alone."

"Sorry." There was a pause while Basilton fiddled with the bow.

"...That means leave," he finally said.

"Sorry," Simon repeated, "I just...Mordelia didn't want me around, and I wasn't sure where else to go."

"Not my problem. I don't perform." Simon stood up awkwardly and left, though he still didn't know where to go, and ended up sitting on the hard stone steps until Mrs. Grimm returned home.

And so it continued for a few more weeks. Simon would show up and be greeted by Basilton, although on occasion it was the maid, and he would spend several hours doing whatever he liked while Mordelia read in the library or hid in her room. Basilton usually ended up playing violin in the library, and Simon eventually stopped reading and started listening. He was good, great in fact, and part of Simon wished he could enjoy the music without the heavy wooden doors buffering it. He got his chance on his seventh babysitting job; he had just left the library so Basilton could play, but when he sat down on the stairs he realized he had left his bag in the library. He walked back over to the slightly open door and knocked, pushing it open at the same time.

Basilton was clearly in his own world, playing violin like a master, so Simon slipped in quietly and crept over to where his bag was on the floor. He had just closed his hand around the strap when the library door fell shut with a loud, heavy thud. Basilton spun around, cutting off his song mid-note. His eyes fell on Simon and blazed.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked.

"I-I-I forgot my bag and...I knocked," Simon mumbled. Quickly he grabbed his bag and scurried to the door, but when he turned the doorknob he felt a sickening lack of tension. "Um..."

"What?" Basilton asked through gritted teeth.

"I...I think it's stuck. Locked." Basilton charged over and wrenched on the door, but it didn't budge.

"Great, just great! How am I supposed to do anything with you here?"

"Well, I mean, you could still play. I won't talk."

"I don't play for people, you idiot. I told you that."

"I know. But...you're really good." Basilton looked at Simon with a combination of shock, anger, and...fear, Simon thought.

"You've been listening?" Basilton asked.

"Well, I mean, the door isn't soundproof. I heard a bit of your playing while I was out there, and, well, you're really good."

"You said that already."

"Well it's true." Simon nodded at the violin Basilton had abandoned on a nearby table.

"Will you play some more? Please?" Basilton eyed the violin like it might bite, then cut his eyes to Simon.

"Not one word," he said, picking up the voilin. Simon nodded and took a seat nearby. Basilton started from the begining of the song, the notes drifting and combining in a beautiful wave of music that left Simon speechless. When Basilton finished he set the violin back in it's case and turned to Simon.

"Happy?" he asked.

"Very." Simon replied. "Basilton, you're-"

"Baz"

"Huh?"

"Call me Baz," Baz said. "It's...less formal. I prefer it unless it's a formal business matter."

"Oh, okay. Baz," Simon tested it out; he liked it. "I'm...still just Simon."

"I figured," Baz said, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"So, does this mean you don't hate me?" Simon asked. The smile grew.

"Who ever said I hated you?"

"I assumed you did. I mean, you're usually pretty cool and formal with me, even though we're the same age and I'm just here to babysit your sister."

"That doesn't mean anything." Simon was about to say more when the library door opened.

"There you are. Mr. Snow, I hope you are not under the impression that just because Mordelia prefers her privacy that means I will pay you for befriending my son," Daphne said.

"Of course not, Mrs. Grimm," Simon said quickly. "I'm sorry. I was just-"

"I asked him to come in, mother," Baz said. "I wanted his opinion on my new piece. An unbiased ear and what have you."

"I see. Well in the future, Basilton, pehaps you could save making friends for when I am not paying them to watch your sister?"

"Of course, mother." Daphne nodded, handed Simon the money for babysitting, and left.

"Well, I guess I'll go," Simon said. "Um, thanks for playing for me."

"Yeah. Simon?"

"Yeah?" Simon paused at the library door.

"Maybe, if you aren't busy, next week you could stay later?"

"Sure!" Simon said, nodding so hard his blond curls flopped into his eyes. Baz smiled and watched him leave, already counting down until the next time he saw Simon.