“I imagine I can succeed in that,” Barnaby said, cocking his head thoughtfully as he pictured it. He was perfectly happy with the idea of being an annoyance, since that was as close to a career as he had in society in this day and age, what with all his physical limitations. But spying on Greengrass’ family was not just an entertaining activity, whatever Fortitude made of it: Barnaby liked him enough that it felt a duty to him, one that he would willingly take on.
“But know that if there is ever anything I can do to be of service to you, I would be glad to repay you for all your reading assistance,” he added with new solemnity and a wave of his hand to express it. Of course, he fancied he was the most enthralling garden-guest anyone could ever have, so that perhaps he was the one doing the favour here already; but Barnaby did want to stay in Greengrass’ good graces as long as he could, so it didn’t hurt to make sure. (He supposed he could have promised to make his life easier by getting into fewer altercations with the residents of Hogsmeade, but that was probably a little unrealistic an offer.)
Because sometimes he thought Fortitude Greengrass, for all he tried to seem cool-headed and collected, dry and satirical and down-to-earth by nature, was really rather green. Dewy-eyed and fresh-faced, and a little more naïve and optimistic and innocent than he supposed himself: still young, in short. A little too trusting. The love poetry he had chosen had exposed this, Barnaby felt, and the not-well-taken, er, romantic advice. And something about the poor boy made him feel protective.
(And, indeed, mayhaps it was not his family who would get him into trouble after all – Barnaby wasn’t sure what would – but, regardless: he still simply did not trust younger brothers, as a set.)
“But know that if there is ever anything I can do to be of service to you, I would be glad to repay you for all your reading assistance,” he added with new solemnity and a wave of his hand to express it. Of course, he fancied he was the most enthralling garden-guest anyone could ever have, so that perhaps he was the one doing the favour here already; but Barnaby did want to stay in Greengrass’ good graces as long as he could, so it didn’t hurt to make sure. (He supposed he could have promised to make his life easier by getting into fewer altercations with the residents of Hogsmeade, but that was probably a little unrealistic an offer.)
Because sometimes he thought Fortitude Greengrass, for all he tried to seem cool-headed and collected, dry and satirical and down-to-earth by nature, was really rather green. Dewy-eyed and fresh-faced, and a little more naïve and optimistic and innocent than he supposed himself: still young, in short. A little too trusting. The love poetry he had chosen had exposed this, Barnaby felt, and the not-well-taken, er, romantic advice. And something about the poor boy made him feel protective.
(And, indeed, mayhaps it was not his family who would get him into trouble after all – Barnaby wasn’t sure what would – but, regardless: he still simply did not trust younger brothers, as a set.)
