(no subject)
Who: Arthur Weasley, Amycus Carrow
Where: Canterbury
When: 31st January, 2002
Status: Complete
It was official. Arthur was a housewife.
With a carrier bag stuffed full of milk, eggs, bread and other sundry items, he was walking home to the headquarters and - of all things - fretting about whether he'd be home in time to start cooking dinner before the employed members of the Order got back and wanted something to eat. Scratching absentmindedly at the back of his neck, he rounded the corner onto yet another windy, rural road. He had got into the habit now of taking an unnecessarily long and convoluted route back, something that Moody had suggested to him back in the old days to stop their hiding places being given away.
Aparrently the old man had been wiser than some had given him credit for, because the moment that Arthur stepped into the layby to allow a car to go past, a sharp wooden point dug into the back of his neck. Adrenaline shot through his veins.
"Good afternoon," he said, his voice betraying his nerves.
Where: Canterbury
When: 31st January, 2002
Status: Complete
It was official. Arthur was a housewife.
With a carrier bag stuffed full of milk, eggs, bread and other sundry items, he was walking home to the headquarters and - of all things - fretting about whether he'd be home in time to start cooking dinner before the employed members of the Order got back and wanted something to eat. Scratching absentmindedly at the back of his neck, he rounded the corner onto yet another windy, rural road. He had got into the habit now of taking an unnecessarily long and convoluted route back, something that Moody had suggested to him back in the old days to stop their hiding places being given away.
Aparrently the old man had been wiser than some had given him credit for, because the moment that Arthur stepped into the layby to allow a car to go past, a sharp wooden point dug into the back of his neck. Adrenaline shot through his veins.
"Good afternoon," he said, his voice betraying his nerves.