All this talk of getting old, it's getting me down my love

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

*Like the foundation of every absolutist, no matter how resolute he stands there is at least one thing out there that can shake Crouch Sr.'s otherwise unyieldingly monochromatic world. Until recently, whenever he needed to he, could be view his wife's health with the same rational thought process that the rest of the universe can be viewed in. Each separate ailment was a problem that needed to be repaired, each pain an unknown to be solved, and each test a routine assessment to assure everything was in order. He has never considered this view to be heartless, but rather efficient. There is rarely cause for dawdling comfort, after all, and Bernadette has never been without the care of an experienced and discrete Healer. Her needs have been met and her condition managed the entirety of their marriage, he had seen to that at every step of their relationship and of his career.

However, he is not a man that can let failure go unnoticed, it is in his nature to assess success and anything below that stands out at him like a glaring red mark on an otherwise spotless existence. When it can be managed and kept up with, the Cloaked Distemper of his wife's blood is nothing more than unavoidable upkeep, but any rational man knows that two fairly invasive treatments for two severe incidents of internal bleeding within such a short time as this means something much too dangerous to successfully analyse and file away. When a disease, something intangible, unintelligent, begins to get the upper hand, Bernadette cannot be just a machine with parts that need fixing. She becomes the person he married, and his fear and frustration at the possibility that losing could ever be a probability make it difficult for him to function as usual. It is never seen by anyone outside their family, and never spoken of within it, but even the Minister for Magic contains a piece of a man who doesn't know the next step and who cannot plan ahead and move forward in the face of anything. Even Crouch Sr., in a twisted and unusual and unaware way, is a concerned husband. Fear and all.

He will never realise this part so separate from the rest of him, but it's there, because even though the weekend has never been a time of rest to him this Saturday the study door has yet to be opened and all pressing business has been brought in to the livingroom. A fire is lit and Bernadette and her blankets moved from their bed to a couch. The house is quiet without their son in it anymore, all apart from their conversation and the scratching of his pen. Even his writing is slower and less militant than usual, and for the time being that husband is more visible than he has been for some time.*

Comments

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

*She closes her eyes, making a small sound that's not quite a sigh.*

In no time at all it will be Christmas. I don't want suffering on our hands.

*The unspoken implication that she has enough of her own goes unsaid.*

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

Brighton has no trouble with werewolves, the new legislation will be doing a lot of good for people living in rural areas where it can be very dangerous if we don't monitor the population for them. This will be in place and running on it's own by Christmas. Safer for us all.

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

*She smiles momentarily, wearily amused by his inability to cast off the Politician Voice.*

That isn't quite what I meant.

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

Southwell said you would be well enough for the event. It's just once, you won't have to endure much of this, nothing out of the ordinary.

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

*Looking almost sad, she brushes the back of cold fingers against his cheek. Silently accepting, as she always does, that there are some languages her husband will never be fluent in.*

I believe you.

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

You're cold. The fire isn't large enough.

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

The fire is fine. I'm perfectly comfortable.

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

*The flames roar much too high, licking up toward the hollow of the chimney before she can finish. They both know Bernadette has always been cold easily, but Crouch Sr.'s overzealous magic would sooner have her sweat and suffocate than make due with perfectly comfortable.*

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

*Bernadette loosens the blanket draped over her small shoulders, accounting for the flames. Christmas is still on her mind but now in a different capacity.*

Have you considered winter hols? I should like us all to be together.

Harmoniously.

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

The holidays have changed now that Bartemius isn't a child. He has obligations then just as he does every other month of the year.

However one of them is to this family.

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

*Bernadette knows Barty has no such obligations yet - he would have told her - yet she doesn't seem bothered by his lack of decision, her voice is filled with only fondness.*

He has? Last I heard he was still deciding what he wants.

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

*Crouch Sr. lowers his papers.*

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

*Bernadette quickly realizes she's made a mistake in telling her husband and attempts to make up for it.*

Barty. He's not yet nineteen. He'll find something, give it time.

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

When I was his age I was in training, top of the class. I have handed every opportunity to him and arranged everything under the specific condition that he accept a position months ago, he's directly disobeyed.

How exactly is he living if he isn't working. Is my son a beggar and no one saw fit to inform me?

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

*Bernadette smiles slightly and then frowns.*

Not everyone's path is so clear. It isn't ungratefulness, you know that, even if he's much too stubborn to say otherwise. But it's only November - his entire life is still ahead of him. Until then, he's being generously supported. That quiet boy - You remember him, don't you? - Regulus.

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

*His voice isn't raised, it doesn't need to be, his frustration toward Barty is wrapped very tightly in every word.*

You know what kind of people the Blacks are, Bernadette, this doesn't look like generosity it looks like pity. Pity that I haven't raised a son who can get up and go to work like any other decent person.

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

Regulus has been nothing but kind. Besides, I'm highly doubtful young Mr. Black has a career of his own.

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

And he's setting a fine example for the friends he keeps. This family does not live like that. We work, and we earn. We earn respect, stability, and Bartemius will not be accepting any more charity.

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

Barty, please. What did we just agree? About a harmonious Christmas?

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

He will have a harmonious Christmas just as soon he becomes responsible.