Dear Diary,
Thank God for Severus. He says I am the biddable one, but when I ask for something, truly ask and not as part of one of our games, he never denies me what I need.
I rode him last night to the point of tears and he let me, never dreaming of stopping me, not even when I climbed astride him with wholly inadequate preparation. You wouldn't think I had needed to cry, I've done so much of it lately, but the tears were the by product, not the goal. The goal was... probably something that requires even more self-knowledge than I have. I just know I feel alive today, aching and spent in a wholly different way than when wracked by grief.
Perhaps I am being rash, and perhaps he will yet change my mind, but feeling as I do just now, I *do* want the world to know. No, it need not be trumpeted in the pages of the Prophet. But I want to hold his hand while we walk down Diagon Alley together and buy each other things and drink from each other's glasses at the Leaky Cauldron. And hang the consequences.
I had a meeting with Gallivant yesterday. He is displeased that the position he thought he was carving for me in the Minister's office should now be occupied by someone so wholly above his influence, but it is clear Minister's preference has not hurt my standing with Gallivant himself, anyway. I told him a half-truth, too, which is that Severus will surely tire of the politics and retire after two or three years and recommend me for the post anyway. Gallivant has a few more ideas for ways I can assist him in the Alchemical Control Commission, gaining experience and influence if I want it.
I am not sure I do want it. I have the manor now. But I cannot deny that my vision for my future, though foggy, seems to contain something other than brewing hair restoratives. Although coming home to Severus for dinner every night -- or nearly every night -- still figures largely.
I want to write to Father. Gallivant had much advice about that. He is quite sure Scrimgeour will allow me to write to him, but the letter will of course pass through many eyes, and I may be required to take an oath of some sort before they let it pass. Perhaps not, that might merely be a threat to keep me honest.
No, I do not yet know what I will say. But he needs to know that I am the master of my own life now. Safe, and whole, and living the life I have built from my own strength and influence, not his. I am alive today because of my own will. The greatest threats to me these past few year shave come entirely from his involvements and now come from his own followers.
The weather turned chill today. My leg aches. Severus healed a great deal of the residual scar tissue I'd allowed to build up, though he knew not what it was at the time. Now I should see about healing it entirely, except that it is one of the few things I have from Harry and I am clinging to it with sentimental passion. Perhaps when I allow it to be healed, I will know I am over him. I suppose I owe it to Severus to get over him, eventually.
And what will Fred say to Severus and I becoming public, no matter how discreetly? He knows we want, someday, to have a party, a celebration. But he also knew we were getting married and that still sent him on a self-destructive binge. I worry. I know he has not seen as much of Fred in recent weeks as he used to. I know my needs have been sucking up most of his time. I do not know what I can say, though, other than I am grateful for a husband who is here when I need him, and who is what I need when I need it.
I rode him last night to the point of tears and he let me, never dreaming of stopping me, not even when I climbed astride him with wholly inadequate preparation. You wouldn't think I had needed to cry, I've done so much of it lately, but the tears were the by product, not the goal. The goal was... probably something that requires even more self-knowledge than I have. I just know I feel alive today, aching and spent in a wholly different way than when wracked by grief.
Perhaps I am being rash, and perhaps he will yet change my mind, but feeling as I do just now, I *do* want the world to know. No, it need not be trumpeted in the pages of the Prophet. But I want to hold his hand while we walk down Diagon Alley together and buy each other things and drink from each other's glasses at the Leaky Cauldron. And hang the consequences.
I had a meeting with Gallivant yesterday. He is displeased that the position he thought he was carving for me in the Minister's office should now be occupied by someone so wholly above his influence, but it is clear Minister's preference has not hurt my standing with Gallivant himself, anyway. I told him a half-truth, too, which is that Severus will surely tire of the politics and retire after two or three years and recommend me for the post anyway. Gallivant has a few more ideas for ways I can assist him in the Alchemical Control Commission, gaining experience and influence if I want it.
I am not sure I do want it. I have the manor now. But I cannot deny that my vision for my future, though foggy, seems to contain something other than brewing hair restoratives. Although coming home to Severus for dinner every night -- or nearly every night -- still figures largely.
I want to write to Father. Gallivant had much advice about that. He is quite sure Scrimgeour will allow me to write to him, but the letter will of course pass through many eyes, and I may be required to take an oath of some sort before they let it pass. Perhaps not, that might merely be a threat to keep me honest.
No, I do not yet know what I will say. But he needs to know that I am the master of my own life now. Safe, and whole, and living the life I have built from my own strength and influence, not his. I am alive today because of my own will. The greatest threats to me these past few year shave come entirely from his involvements and now come from his own followers.
The weather turned chill today. My leg aches. Severus healed a great deal of the residual scar tissue I'd allowed to build up, though he knew not what it was at the time. Now I should see about healing it entirely, except that it is one of the few things I have from Harry and I am clinging to it with sentimental passion. Perhaps when I allow it to be healed, I will know I am over him. I suppose I owe it to Severus to get over him, eventually.
And what will Fred say to Severus and I becoming public, no matter how discreetly? He knows we want, someday, to have a party, a celebration. But he also knew we were getting married and that still sent him on a self-destructive binge. I worry. I know he has not seen as much of Fred in recent weeks as he used to. I know my needs have been sucking up most of his time. I do not know what I can say, though, other than I am grateful for a husband who is here when I need him, and who is what I need when I need it.