Edric wasn't sure what Febby could have to gain from his childhood picture books, but was not about to deny her when he had no reason to keep them. "I would be happy to oblige. Remind me later, alright?" he murmured. There were two libraries in the home—one larger one for guest (and his) use, and the one in his father's office that housed all his personal collections, including all his of his oh-so-sacred accounting books. He used to have to ask to go in there as a child, and though his father no longer fussed about it, he still felt obligated to ask.
"Don't remind me how old I am," he said with a tsk. "I'm sure a few of the wealthier boys in my year already had a bastard or two on the way by the time you were born." A sad truth, but one nevertheless. "Though I'm sure a number of them now have a wife your age, so no worries," he teased.
She asked about his childhood, which, fortunately, was much broader than his early years. He had no issue talking about his youth—at least he didn't think so, considering it wasn't a normal topic of conversation.
"Um," he began, clucking his tongue as he tried to find a good place to start. "My father built a factory empire long before my birth, and he always thought I would help manage them." Another pause. "I didn't. I never felt very suited for a desk job—at least at that age." It was still true, even today.
"He's rarely here. Much of his business is done with muggles in their small towns in Northern England. I hardly saw him during my school years, but he provided for us. I lived well compared to my friends, though I suppose I spent more time at their homes than mine," he explained.
"Don't remind me how old I am," he said with a tsk. "I'm sure a few of the wealthier boys in my year already had a bastard or two on the way by the time you were born." A sad truth, but one nevertheless. "Though I'm sure a number of them now have a wife your age, so no worries," he teased.
She asked about his childhood, which, fortunately, was much broader than his early years. He had no issue talking about his youth—at least he didn't think so, considering it wasn't a normal topic of conversation.
"Um," he began, clucking his tongue as he tried to find a good place to start. "My father built a factory empire long before my birth, and he always thought I would help manage them." Another pause. "I didn't. I never felt very suited for a desk job—at least at that age." It was still true, even today.
"He's rarely here. Much of his business is done with muggles in their small towns in Northern England. I hardly saw him during my school years, but he provided for us. I lived well compared to my friends, though I suppose I spent more time at their homes than mine," he explained.
— set by MJ! —