November 2nd, 1890 — Bartonburg

She hadn't had the courage to enjoy supper with her mother that evening. No, not when all Cassandra could speak of was Mr. Desmond and all his brilliant qualities. Mr. Desmond could crawl into a ditch for all Penny cared of him. Brilliant qualities, ha. Dying beneath a collapsed column that was brilliant, valiant, as courageous as they came. All Mr. Desmond had ever accomplished was a few potion competition wins. He would never compare to the likes of Duncan Fawcett.

As such, Penny had squirreled herself away in the workshop as soon as she'd arrived home from work. Varnish from the broom's shaft stained the sleeves of her dress — her skirt having only been saved by the suggested apron — and her braid might as well have been undone for all the hair it held back. Loose tendrils of golden hair were constantly being tucked back behind her ears, leaving a streak of black grease on her cheek.

Had Penny thought to be expecting guests, she might've put more of an effort into cleaning herself up. Sure, Nemo had seen her in the past with a face covered in soot, but that wasn't her usual state. Still, there was little to be done as the last of his footsteps fell on the steps. "Hey!" Penny called out from her usual set up in the far back corner. "Sorry, sorry! I wasn't expecting you tonight." Had they made plans? Merlin, she was bloody forgetful sometimes. Wiping her hands on her apron, Penny set aside the muggle lamp and stepped around the table to meet him. "Uneventful day at work, I hope?"

  

Nemo was usually pretty good about writing ahead to let Penny know he was going to stop by and bring her something, but he'd legitimately seen this on his way out of the office and there hadn't been anyway to let her know. He supposed he could have waited until tomorrow, but he hadn't seen her in a while either. Work was keeping him busy and frankly he hadn't had much time for anything else.

Fortunately he'd thought to head straight to her place instead of guessing if she was still at work. It was still weird for him to be allowed into Mr. Grimstone's home to take the stairs to the basement workshop (you'd think they would have an outside door or something, through the bulkhead at least, but it had never seemed to be a big deal. Instead all he had to do was let himself into her place with the cuckoo clock under one arm. It had been set to be discarded after the muggle that owned it had to have their memory erased for an illegal charm that had been placed upon it. It had been a debacle for sure, but after it was confiscated, that was that, they hadn't planned on getting it back to the muggle who owned it. Shame really, but Nemo knew Penny would certainly enjoy it.

"Sorry, I would have owled ahead, but I grabbed it on my way out the door." He set the clock upright on her workshop bench gently. "Confiscated, charms stripped, but they were going to toss it, so I absconded with it." It was magnificent with all of its colorful pieces and parts. He wondered if it still worked.

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She waved off his apology. Nemo was always welcome within her home, he knew that. Penny had even once considered asking him to rent a flat with her, but decided that would be too outrageous for either of their families to accept. The leniency Cassandra extended to Penny's life choices only went so far, she knew. Crossing that line would carry consequences she would be loathe to accept.

Instead, she stepped forward to what she assumed to be a clock. The intricately carved wood wasn't the oddest object Nemo had ever thought to gift her, in fact a clock was absolutely mundane. She had tinkered with clocks enough to know how the gears and timing all worked. Still, she grinned at the gift and poked at the odd wooden doors. Now that was unusual.

Bending so she was closer to eye level with the shut doors, Penny eyed the clock curiously. "What does it do?" She asked Nemo. "What is it hiding?"

  

Nemo was pretty sure he would never, ever grow tired of watching Penny puzzle out muggle things with the wonder of a small child. It was like she saw the world through a complete different lens than other people; it was both endearing and fascinating to watch. Even for what was probably the hundredth time.

"It's a cuckoo clock," He chuckled before moving to wind the clock, moving the hands on the front until they struck an hour. retreating from her space once more, he allowed for the little bird to come out of the doors at the top, popping out and singing a little ditty before retreating behind the door again. Frankly Nemo was impressed by the workmanship, the hand carving and painting that went into it. Done without magic no less. Muggles were fascinating sometimes and quite ingenious with their creations. Nemo rather thought sometimes they had the right idea. Without the ease of magic they could still create such beautiful pieces and the satisfaction when it was finished must have been quite incredible.

Covering his mouth to hid the smirk, he watched her for a moment more. "You've truly never seen one?" That was hard to believe!

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Although Penny had certainly heard of a cuckoo clock before she hadn't ever had the pleasure of seeing one in the flesh. The tiny doors flew open and the delicately painted bluebird sang the cutest little song she had ever heard. Already, the gears of wonder were turning in her head. What sort of instrument did the clock house to allow for the bird to make music likeso? Was it simply the sound of the gears turning inside or were there actual strings that were being plucked? She itched to start the process of dismantling the clock, but knew that would be an endeavor to start in the morning lest she be up all night working on it.

Her bad habits had improved somewhat, it seemed.

"I've heard of them," she answered once the bird had retreated back within its house. "But I've never seen one, no. They were just going to throw it away?! It's so beautiful." Even wizarding folks could appreciate the artistry that went into designing such a clock. Or, at least the wizarding folks who were willing to live life with open eyes. "Thank you, Nemo." She said with a broad smile in his direction.

  

Leaning back, Nemo rested a hip against the workbench, still watching her closely. She got so absorbed in things, so wholly and completely he was pretty sure she never noticed his lingering gazes, which was for the better. If she ever caught on to how he felt about her, he had no idea what would happen. They were in a good spot, a status quo that worked for them, no need to rock the boat, not when she was still feeling the effects of her father's death and her mother's new beau. No, Nemo was quite content to be her silent support in the background, however she needed.

"I guess, they confiscated it after it had been charmed to fly off the perch and it wound up in a muggle family home. It wasn't particularly bad, nothing malicious which is unusual, nobody attacked or anything." That was rare in cases of confiscated muggle artifacts."Except that it happened during a dinner party, which meant a lot of memory modifications." Perhaps the department had simply thought removing the clock altogether was for the better. Shame, it really was quite beautiful. "I agree, so I thought you might like it." It wasn't an ordinary clock after all, those he knew she could probably take apart and put together in her sleep.

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It was difficult to imagine the clock soaring about the room, but Penny knew better than to put it past curious wizards. Nemo had gifted her all sorts of trinkets over the years and she long ago ceased to wonder why people did what they did. (She was, however, still perplexed by the story of the exploding tea pot; that was a spell undoubtedly cast by an evil person, but even so. Why? The type of wizard to take joy in causing an unsuspecting victim to face an exploding teapot was no person Penny ever wished to meet.)

Starley hopped up onto the workbench near the clock and Penny reached to pull the old cat into her arms before he could knock the clock over. If he was irked by the action Penny paid no mind, for the old fart of a cat had caused many objects to break over the years. "Those poor muggles," she stated sadly. Memory modifications were her least favorite aspects of Nemo's occupation. The magicless humans already lived such mundane lives without the aid of simple spellwork that being forced to forget it existed at all was depressing. Still, after the witch hunts over a decade ago perhaps it was for the best.

"I do! I love it!" The muggle' loss was her gain, she supposed. "How do you think it makes music? Is there a tiny instrument inside?"

  

Her obvious delight was what kept Nemo's theft from the office going. Of course most of the time the artifacts were just going to be tossed, but if he thought she would enjoy them, he just absconded with it on his way out. Nobody had said anything. If they had caught on, he had to wonder what they thought of the things he took.

"I'm glad you like it." He smiled fondly at her, cradling the cat in her arms, as she inspected the clock further. "I assume some kind of contraption like a music box?" Honestly Nemo wasn't sure, that was her department to find out. He was sure she'd report back once she figured it out. Nemo might be able to take apart a clock simply because he'd watched her do it so many times.

"It does it every hour though, I can't tell if it'll get old after the seventh time each day." He chuckled. Not to mention in the middle of the night. Yikes. The first day it had been in the office, before the charms had been taken off, the little blue bird had zoomed around the room several times before somebody thought to take care of the spells sooner rather than later.

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A music box. That was a possibility, she supposed, but what exactly created the chimes within a music box? In all her years of fiddling with various objects Penny had never taken apart a music box. Perhaps she ought to hunt one down to pull apart before diving into the cuckoo clock. Penny would hate to ruin such a pretty gift from Nemo because of her own ineptitude.

She hummed in agreement before finally tearing her focus from the clock to her best friend. A near decade and a half of friendship and Penny still felt so incredibly lucky to be his friend. "Of course it won't, the song was cute." Cassandra might not agree, but Penny valued her mother's opinion less and less these days. In fact, she ought to leave the clock in the parlor to annoy her mother that much more.

"Have you eaten? There's plenty of leftovers if you are." Cook always hoped Harley would come home, not that the Irvingly resident ever did. Starley and the rest of Penny's adoptive pets ate those leftovers more often than her brother did.

  

For some reason, Nemo didn't think the song would be very cute at six in the morning, but he supposed she could likely charm it to be quiet during those hours. Honestly she would find it charming no matter what, so he supposed it wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like was going to be there for it.

Nemo had long ago learned not to try and turn down food from the Fawcett household. Between Cook and Penny it was hard to say no to begin with and not to mention the food was usually pretty good. "I haven't, are you sure? I don't want to be a pest." It was a similar answer he gave every time. No of course he hadn't eaten, he'd just come from the office, but he wouldn't be an inconvenience either. Nemo hated to be in the way. A remnant of growing up in such a large family, Nemo had learned to blend early, to fade into the shadows and stick to the outskirts. He really was fine with being a permanent background fixture.

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Giving Starley one last pet, she allowed the grump to jump from her arms to the floor and leant her back against the workbench. Her backside was bound to be covered in dust and grime now seeing as the spot she chose was one of her more common spots to work. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first (or last) time she had to charm her clothes clean.

"You're never a pest!" Penny insisted. They had had this exact conversation countless times over the years and he still doubted that. Their friendship surpassed any other relationship in her life, so much so that she forced their cook to maintain a kosher kitchen for him. Nemo always had a place with her, forever and always.

She stepped forward and lightly squeezed his forearm. "You're Nemo, my best friend, and you're always welcome here to eat."

  

Regardless of the fact that he knew what her answer would be (it was a motion he would go through forever) Nemo was always relieved that she still wanted his company. They'd been friends for long enough that it wasn't that he doubted her, not at all, but more like he was so awkward he truly marveled at how he hadn't worn on her nerves yet with his constant questions and uncertain nature.

He reached down to give Starley a scratch behind the ears, a privilege  he'd worked long and hard for over the years as the surly feline hated just about everyone aside from Penny. Her hand on his arm as he straightened up simultaneously startled him and gave him goosebumps; as it did every time. "And as always, I am appreciative of the offer." He would never take it for granted or simply assume it was alright; they would go through this conversation every time she asked.

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That settled it then. Nemo would join her for dinner (which they would hopefully take in the kitchen to avoid having to face Cassandra. Penny had too many harsh words to spew towards her mother for her mother's company to be pleasant tonight. Plus, Penny didn't dare say any of it in front of Nemo. The loss of a parent was such a touchy subject, after all, even for those who rarely spoke of it.

She didn't notice his goosebumps or the surprise on his face, but instead focused on moving the cuckoo clock to a safer perch. Starley was in a mood, it seemed, and if it wasn't him then it would be the kittens later. "Shall we?" Penny asked once the clock was secure with a warm smile.

  

Nemo moved toward the door while Penny stored the clock away from mischievous cats and then motioned for her to lead the way. "What do you suppose Cook has on the menu tonight?" He chuckled. There was another relationship Nemo had carefully crafted over the years. He did not expect them to keep a kosher kitchen for him; his ties to his mother's religion had slacked more than ever after her passing, but he appreciated the effort nevertheless. Since it was the case, he tried to be the most gracious guest every time he was fed. Cook seemed to like him, which was a blessing.

The kitchen, no matter the home, was always his favorite room in a house. It was always warm, inviting and busy, perfect for someone who craved the connection, but preferred to stay out of the way. Nemo moved out of the way immediately to the small kitchen table at which they often had their meals; he knew better than to ask if they were joining the Lady of the house these days. Passing Cook a friendly smile and wave, he looked to Penny for whatever was to come next. He was also smart enough to know better than to get in the way when someone was working in the kitchen.

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Truth be told, Penny hadn't paid much mind to what Cook had set out for dinner that evening, largely because she hadn't planned on eating until much later. Unlike Nemo, she could go a day without having more than a scone for breakfast and not notice her hunger. It was an unhealthy habit of hers, she knew, one that worsened when she was stressed, but that was why she kept him around.

"The house smelled like a roasted chicken when I got home earlier," she supplies as they walked up the steps. "Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll have made potatoes too." Baked potatoes were one of her favorite foods, even if it was a rather bland dish. She gestured for him to sit once they entered the kitchen and went to help Cook with plating dishes for them both. Cook's day had technically ended once Cassandra finished eating, so Penny didn't wish to be a nuisance.

Returning to the table with two plates in hand, Penny set Nemo's dish before him and moved to her normal spot across from him. "Shoot, I forgot drinks. Do you want wine? Whiskey? We have all the usuals, I think. Cook went to the market the other day."

  

A fed Nemo was a content Nemo, and she he would be thankful for whatever it was that was set in front of him, but of course he was never disappointed. "Thank you, I appreciate it, as always." He passed Penny a grateful smile as she passed him a plate and joined him. Times like this were some of his favorites, the quiet moments where there were no expectations other than easy conversation and a shared meal. Nemo was a simple man, he didn't have high expectations and he hadn't even noticed the lack of a beverage until she brought it up.

"Whatever is closest or open, I'm not fussed." He assured her. "I can get it if you point me in the right direction." He slid to the edge of his seat, poised to do just that, if she let him. He knew his way around the kitchen fairly well, especially when Cook had finished her part and left them on their own. As long as he wasn't in the way. Nemo wasn't afraid to do the dishes or any other clean up either, he'd been raised to return a kind favor.

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