12.04.83
I have everything I want.
Logic demands that if you have what you want you should be happy. The costs are something else entirely. The balance. Making it work.
My mother and I spoke frankly on Wednesday night, and they will not stop me in pursuing whatever career I choose. Maya and I The choices are mine from now on, Quidditch or diplomacy, Maya or Eberhilde or both. No one intends to stop me.
There is a story about my mother's uncle; he so tirelessly pursued a policy that the night before the decision was to be made, he visited every relevant member of the Cabinet to personally stress its importance until they conceded his point. Maman watches, waits, spins policies and rhetoric without any effort. This is the sort of decisive confidence we're known for.
I don't have it. Sarah does. Sarah has no desire to do what it is I need to do, but she has the drive. She could use this freedom, to much better ends than I will. This is the way of things, I suppose. It is hardly the first thing given to me by my birth, my name and my sex that goes to waste.
I haven't spoken to Maya since Wednesday. Since I made my decision and went to her, and possibly ruined things for good. If she's realised after just that one night that this isn't what she wants, I can't fault her that. There are others. I can overcome losing her. I can become this man, if I must.
Eberhilde doesn't know. Tomorrow is Hogsmeade. Were the situation different, I would invite her, tell her face to face. I'll owl her tomorrow, instead. We can work out the details. Maybe no English teams will want me, and it will be as though I never asked. Maybe.
NEWTs. I must work.