Work Text:
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Simon halted, where did this quote come from? He got up and travelled through the corridors of the enormous Grimm Mansion. Or rather, the Pitch Mansion, as that is whom the building originally belonged to. The blond boy stopped in front of Baz's room. Knocking lightly, afraid to startle the other.
Basilton laid in his armchair. Dozing slightly, a copy of his latest university coursebook slumped on his chest. Merely taking notice of the knocking as an illusion, he went back to imagining being with his late mother. Where would she be, on such a dreary night? She would not be in christian heaven, if such a concept exists; after all, would “God” allow vampires, however short their timespan as a creature of the night, into heaven? Or would he exile them into Hell.
Simon knocked again, wondering if his partner is even in his room. But almost momentarily a voice came from the other side:
“Excuse me, I was not sure if anyone was there, so I didn’t think to open the door”
Basilton opened the door but found only dim candlelight on the other site. The raven-haired boy called out, “Mother, is that you who came rapping at my door?”
“Yo, yo, yo Baz, it is I who comes rapping at your door”, declares Simon, coming out from behind a pillar, his tone joking, trying – and failing – to rap.
“You twat, rapping means knocking. Don’t make such daft jokes.” Baz explained fondly.
“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. I was wondering whether I could come in?”, asked the freckled boy.
“This is just as much my room, as it is yours. Come in, love.” answered Baz.
“Maybe you were doing something you don’t want me knowing,” Simon said teasingly, “but, why did you call out to your mum? I haven’t thought much of Natasha since- “
Simon couldn't finish his sentence. Something was hammering at the window. Not just some light tapping, but full-on blasts. The boys at once thought of one of the Humdrums attacks in their third year at Watford. Basilton ran towards the window and yanked it open. A bird flew in. It was black, but neither of the couple were ornithologists. Or attended a school where you would have been taught what a bloody raven is. So, they could only marvel at it flying onto a bust of Apollo.
Knowing that this could not be a coincident, Simon questioned the fowl, “What do you want?”
“Let me guess, your name is ‘nevermore’?” snarked Basil, who now had noticed the odd similarities between this evening and a story he had read somewhere.
“Yeah, you would like that, huh?” came a high voice out of the beak.
“Penny!”, exclaimed Simon, happy that it was his friend, not a scary bird, “What are you doing here?”
“And more importantly, why are you a bird, Bunce; surely you could just... ring the doorbell?”, grumbled Basilton.
“Have you looked outside, idiot? I’m not driving in this weather only to talk to you. It was easier to use my magic and possess a bird”, said Penny. “And also, way more stylish, ravens are cool.”
“Well, what is so important that you couldn't leave us to our weekend alone?” asked Simon.
“The reason I’m here today, is because I saw a dog.”
“A... dog? That's why you travelled here for hours?” queried the vampire.
“For one I think that’s a valid answer, secondly, what breed, and fourthly,”
“You skipped the third reason, miracle boy.”, interjected Basilton with a smile playing on his lips.
“Three-point-fourthly, is that all?” finished Snow, knowing how ridiculous he sounded.
“Thanks, and it was a cavalier cocker spaniel.” answered Penelope. “Agatha’s back in town.”
And just as quickly as she came, Penny flew off into the night again. Simon looked at Baz with a grin, he always hoped Agatha would come back, but Basilton seemed lost in thought.
“Why do you think she’s back, Snow? She said she would return to England
Nevermore”.