Of all the fathers in the world, what had Charles Jameshill done to be saddled with such an idiot for a son? Lupus, in this instance, was the idiot—though he had botched the attempt, Barnabas could only be commended for his efforts to save his brother from himself.
Unless Lou died, then all bets would be off.
“It’s difficult to apparate someone who does not wish to be apparated,” the healer reassured his son, but his voice, and indeed his mind, was distant. How bad truly was it? What would cleaning this up entail? What had Lupus Jameshill been thinking?
The sight that greeted him in his study, for all of Barnabas’ hysterics, was far worse than Charles had expected. At once, he was at his unconscious son’s side, wand in hand as he tried to figure out where in the hell to start.
Unless Lou died, then all bets would be off.
“It’s difficult to apparate someone who does not wish to be apparated,” the healer reassured his son, but his voice, and indeed his mind, was distant. How bad truly was it? What would cleaning this up entail? What had Lupus Jameshill been thinking?
The sight that greeted him in his study, for all of Barnabas’ hysterics, was far worse than Charles had expected. At once, he was at his unconscious son’s side, wand in hand as he tried to figure out where in the hell to start.
lady makes pretty things <3