(no subject)
Time is a funny thing. It can move too fast, it can move too slow....sometimes it's as though it doesn't move at all. And sometimes it's just right.
It moved too fast in December, with so much to do and not nearly enough time to do it in. Shopping for presents and holiday parties, trips to Platform 9¾ and the pond for ice skating (with seventeen children, mind), and the neverending effort of trying to keep the pantry stocked well enough to satisfy not only the bottomless pit that is Draco's stomach, but also the neverending hunger of teenagers home for hols. If I never see another petit four or tartlet again, it will be too soon.
We had barely caught our breaths from the obscene display that was Christmas Day when we were right back at Platform 9¾ to send a handful back to Hogwarts, the kids loaded down with new winter cloaks and replenished stacks of school supplies (honestly, what is Thomas doing with his quills?). For Daisy, it is her final trip back - the next time she gets on that train, it will be at the end of her final year. And then...who knows. She knows she has a home here for as long as she wants one.
Time slowed in January with the kids back to their normal routine (Emmy being home-schooled, Morty and Oscar taking turns terrorizing each other, and Bean following my every waking move). Morty finally got toilet trained (barring a few accidents) though Oscar is still a bit behind him in that regard. He's only a couple of months younger than Morty, but I think he'll take longer. Oscar doesn't like to be rushed through anything, I've noticed.
Things were disrupted a bit when Gregory Goyle was officially released into our care (early release, even) and promptly put on staff at Widdleton (per the terms of his release, he had to have steady employment - Widdleton was the obvious choice) as groundskeeper. No discussion was needed for Draco and I to decide to let him have a place in Oscar's life. Oscar is ours in every way that matters, but Goyle is his father - no piece of paper will change that. Of course, Oscar is far too young to understand any of that, but mostly we just want him to get used to Goyle's presence - to know him. And one day, he'll know who Goyle really is.
Time came to a standstill, however, in late January when, while planning the menu for Oscar's birthday, St. Mungo's rang through the emergency Floo. Lucius was in critical care and not expected to make it through the night. Years of hard drink had taken its toll, but apparently he'd been drinking non-stop since Christmas. Alone, in the Manor. Draco was...devastated. I didn't know what to say, not to him or Narcissa. It's no secret how I feel about the man, but he is Draco's father. It was a tense twelve hours, but Lucius did recover. Three days after he regained consciousness, he announced from his hospital bed that he wanted to testify at Nott's upcoming trial in April. I'm waiting for him to change his mind, and though I've not spoken about it with Draco, I think he's waiting for it, too. I don't think that Draco will ever trust his father, and I don't think their relationship will ever fully be mended. But for the moment, it seems as though Lucius's near death-by-drink has caused a...change of heart. I never knew he had a heart.
During those twelve hours of waiting, though, two of my children started asking questions about death that I wasn't prepared to answer. Emmy's mind connected our annual trips to the cemetary to what was happening with Lucius, and it snowballed from there, taking her brother along with it. And I lied to them both when Bean asked me if either I or Draco had ever almost died. With Lucius there is no attachment - all they see is their father and grandmother very upset, but loss isn't something they've really encountered yet. They asked about my parents, and if I missed them. And then they were distracted by a nurse bearing sweets, and the subject was (thankfully) forgotten.
I tried not to spend the rest of the week obsessing over the fact that my children very nearly knew death up close and personal on Valentine's Day four years earlier. A day that is normally about kitschy and cutesy commercially-branded declarations of everlasting love, but which had been ruined for Draco when I woke up in hospital remembering only that I hated him and had no recollection of the children we'd created.
A fact that Draco more than once became upset about in the years thereafter as he'd convinced himself that I didn't care about what he went through - didn't give his horrible, heart-crushing experience its due respect. I didn't want to think about it...I stopped wanting to think about it long ago, but Draco...Draco keeps one foot firmly in the past at all times, it seems. And as I cannot change that, I have to do better to acknowledge it.
Which brings us to our most recent Valentine's day. A little help from Hermione and I was armed with a charm that I put to good use. Throughout the day, little notes popped out of thin air for him when triggered by his touch. When he reached for his toothbrush, a note appeared that read I remember the nervous yet determined look in your eyes the first time you kissed me. When he touched the doorknob of Emmy's bedroom, a note appeared that read I remember the sound of Emmy's first real laugh. When he touched the mug of hot chocolate on the kitchen table, a note appeared that read I remember the sweet taste of your mouth after you first said that you loved me. All throughout the day, he was reminded that I remember, and will always remember. And when he laid his head on his pillow that night, a note appeared that read Remind me of the first time. And he did (though there was decidedly less amateur fumbling on both our parts, thankfully), only after calling me a magnificent sap who was far too sentimental for my own good. He was grinning, though, so I don't think he really minded all that much.
Time is moving just about right at the moment, but I know that it will speed up or slow down without warning and without my permission. At the end of the month, it will move far too fast as my daughter celebrates her ninth birthday - three more years from now she'll be away at Hogwarts for her first year, and I'll be equal parts excited for her and missing her terribly.
Considering who I have by my side experiencing all of it with me, I wouldn't really want it any other way.