RP Log: Douglas and Sarah Cornfoot Characters: Douglas and Sarah Cornfoot Setting: Their living room, late evening Summary: Douglas expresses his concerns for his family in these trying times of WAR and DEATH and WOE. Rating: PG
The attacks by the Death Eaters had everyone worried, and Sarah Cornfoot was no exception. Of course she worried; she was a mother, and that was practically like being a professional worrier. Nonetheless, she had been trying to live her life as normally as possible. She played with Lizzie and took her out in the stroller while she went jogging every morning. She spent time with her friends, and they had all their little playgroup events. She made sandwiches at lunchtime and she had dinner ready more or less when her husband came home. She had family time after dinner, and she kept her little bit of the world as calm and happy as she could.
It wasn't until after Lizzie went to bed that any talk of the Death Eaters or the Ministry's fight against them came up. Sometimes she knew it was best for Douglas to just leave all that at work, and then she did her best to take his mind off of it with pleasant conversation or racy underwear. Sometimes, though, she could tell that something was troubling him enough that he needed to talk about it, and it looked to her that this was one of those nights.
Not that she could blame him, given the latest events. The news of the attack had set her on edge as well, keeping her quieter than normal during dinner. It was this same sense of trouble in the world that brought her to him after they'd kissed Lizzie goodnight, silently sitting down beside him on the sofa and linking her arm through his. She rested her head on his shoulder and her free hand on her belly (it had become something of a habit when she started showing), waiting to see if he'd speak without any prompting first.
Unlike Sarah, Douglas was not the sort of person who could easily let things go and move on like nothing had happened. He knew she worried, too, about their entire family, but to him, she seemed to be handling the added stress much better than he was. Douglas had a feeling that it was because of how much time she spent around Lizzie, and because she wanted him to relax and not worry about everything at home. Their little girl was blissfully ignorant, and if either of her parents let on... well, Douglas was not looking forward to having to explain what was really going on. If Lizzie and their son never had any memories of her early years, of Death Eaters and attacks and people disappearing and dying, Douglas would be happy. If only the Ministry could actually make some progress in capturing Death Eaters, he thought.
There were whispers all around the Ministry. After St Mungo's and Diagon Alley, it seemed like there was no place in their world that was truly safe and many thought that the Ministry would be next. Douglas felt safe at home -- their wards had been put in place by the best of the best (only the best for his family), and he had Benjy stop by periodically to make sure they were still secure. It hadn't been a conscious choice to not live in one of the wizarding villages, but Douglas was starting to realise that it'd been a good choice. They were harder to find that way. Douglas wasn't worried about what might happen at home, though. He was worried about his wife and daughter being in the wrong place at the wrong time, about them getting caught in the middle of a fight with no way out.
"Hi, darling," he said softly, feeling worlds more relaxed with her warm body right there next to him. Amos was right. Instead of talking about his worries with his friends, he should talk about them with his wife. "I'm sorry for being so distracted tonight. Just... lost in my own thoughts, I suppose."
"It's all right," she said, turning toward him a bit. "I've been doing a bit of that today myself. Would you like to talk about it, or should I work on a good distracting conversation topic?"
Sarah hoped he would talk to her. She would feel a little better if they could share their concerns and discuss matters seriously. If he needed it, though, she was willing to chat about something useless to take his mind off of it. There could be time for talking later, if he needed more processing time. Sarah had her flaws, but she was remarkably patient.
Douglas thought back to his conversation with Amos again, and took a deep breath, turning to look at Sarah as well. If he couldn't confide his wife about everything, what was the point of even being together? Not that Douglas didn't want to be married, because he loved every part of it (minus the worrying part). He just wasn't terribly skilled at expressing his emotions.
"Let's talk," he said simply, turning his arm a little so he could clasp her hand. "Just thinking about everything that has been happening these last few months. Saint Mungo's, Diagon Alley..." Douglas frowned, his gaze falling to her stomach automatically. "I'm worried, that's all. About you and Lizzie... about being in the wrong place at the wrong time." He knew that he had no control over that, but knowing that didn't make it easier to let go of his worries. Though he worked a lot and spent a lot of his time at the office, his family was far more important. "And it doesn't seem to be getting any better."
"No, it seems more like it's getting worse," Sarah quietly agreed. She laced her fingers through his, squeezing gently and turning to look up at him. "I promise you, Douglas, we're always careful when we go out. I put reasonable protection spells on both of us any time we're out of the house."
Before, she would have said that they never went anywhere dangerous. Unfortunately, everyplace was dangerous now. It didn't help that her husband and brother were both involved in the law enforcement side of the Ministry and that her best friends were "blood traitors" as those people liked to call them, either. She was as much a target as any of those innocent children and parents in Diagon Alley.
"I know you're careful," he replied, and he did, but knowing those sorts of things -- along with knowing he was a good barrister, a good father, a good husband -- didn't always go far enough to reassure him. Hearing it was one thing; truly believing it was another. It was even more important now to play nice with everyone, no matter what their beliefs might be. He had too much at stake.
"I don't know what I would do if something happened to either one of you," he confessed, genuinely dismayed by the thought. "Do you think... lately, I've been wondering if having a family now was a wise idea. Not that I have any regrets. I don't want you to doubt how I feel about you, or Lizzie, or our son." He paused, his brow furrowing into a deep frown as he thought over his words, trying to carefully formulate them. "I didn't realise it would be so difficult. Worrying all the time when I'm at work and not here with you."
Sarah sat up straight then, turning to look at him. He'd said she shouldn't doubt how he felt about her or their children, but the rest of it certainly made it sound as if they were in some way a sort of unwelcome complication. As someone who went above and beyond the call of duty to keep his life peaceful and serene, Sarah couldn't help but be a little upset. Not that she honestly believed he didn't love her or the children, but the idea that they should somehow stop all that because of the Death Eaters just struck at her in a terribly wrong way.
"I worry about you every day, Douglas," she said firmly, "but I would always rather have you to worry about than whatever the alternative would have been, and the same goes for Lizzie and the baby. I will not stop living my life because of those people."
The second she sat up, he could tell that he'd said something wrong, or at least phrased it wrong -- something. Douglas hated that feeling. He didn't hate it as much as how it might feel to be without his family, but he still hated that doubt that went along with receiving an unexpected reaction from something he'd said.
He deflated for a moment, and then recovered, reaching up to brush some of Sarah's hair away from her face affectionately. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I would rather have you, too." It was nearly physically painful to imagine the alternative. "I'm glad we have Lizzie, and each other. I mean that. I only wish it wasn't so dangerous." He, on the other hand, would have been happy to set aside certain aspects of his life because of 'those people.' Not his family, but his job. If it meant they would be safe, he would drop it in a second. "It's been a long day. I'm afraid I'm not explaining myself very well."
Sarah sighed faintly and un-bristled, turning instead to put her legs over his and wrap her arms around him. It wasn't fair of her to get upset with him for being so very worried, and she knew it. She hadn't realized until she saw his reaction that she had snapped at him, and she really wasn't a snapping kind of person. She saved snapping for serious things, not small slights.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know perfectly well you wouldn't rather not have us any more than we'd rather not have you. I suppose all this just has me a bit on edge as well. Between you and John and the children, I never really stop worrying about one thing or another. I wish it weren't so dangerous, too."
"John can handle himself. He knows what he's doing," Douglas reminded her gently, although he certainly worried about his brother-in-law as well. John was trained to fight Death Eaters, however. Neither he nor his wife were trained for that. He was sure he could put up a good fight himself, but he was still just a barrister. It might be time to brush up on some of that offensive and defensive magic, however.
He eased his arms around his wife's waist, leaning in for a quick kiss. "I suppose now would not be the best time to ask you and Lizzie to limit your time alone in public places, hmm?" he asked, his smile disguising the very real fear behind his words -- or so he hoped. "I'll ask John or Edgar Bones if there's anything we can do to ease my mind, something that doesn't involve you being stuck here until this all blows over."
She knew that John could handle himself, but there was nonetheless part of Sarah that couldn't stop thinking of him as her little brother. It was hard to remember sometimes that the eleven year old who'd followed her around Hogwarts was a grown man perfectly capable of looking after himself now. That was especially difficult when the world was in such a terrible mess. She knew the world was a mess, though, and given the recent attacks on innocent people in seemingly safe areas she could understand why Douglas was so worried.
"I don't want to be stuck here," Sarah acknowledged. "But I can stick with going out with the other mums more often than just Lizzie and me, if that would make you feel better? Molly's as good at defensive magic as anyone I know."
Although he didn't know how much that would help until it was actually in practice, Douglas had never wanted to be a controlling husband (and he knew that Sarah would never put up with it, either), and he knew he needed to try.
"Just for now," he agreed, "not forever. You're safe here, and around town, in Muggle areas. They'd have to have someone in every city in the United Kingdom... I doubt that they have the numbers for that. It's only the Wizarding areas I'm worried about. Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade..." He didn't say it, but the Ministry was on the list, too. He gave her another kiss, sufficiently reassured for the moment. "Thank you. For being so wonderful about this."
"You make it very easy to be wonderful," Sarah replied, letting her fingertips brush over his cheek as she leaned in to kiss him softly. "I'll look into things we could do in Muggle areas. I'm sure we can find museums and playgrounds and story times and such in those places just as easily as in wizarding places, and Lizzie's old enough to understand about keeping secrecy. We all have to worry enough as it is without adding any unnecessary worry."
After all, finding fun and education opportunities in the Muggle cities wasn't a terrible burden. If it would make Douglas worry even a fraction less, Sarah was more than happy to adjust their routine. Besides, she wanted to keep herself and the children safe, too. Exploring the Muggle world was probably a good idea for all of them.
"I never imagined I'd be suggesting more integration," he admitted, musing over the thought of his wife and daughter out with people who had no idea that witches and wizards existed. But the fact of the matter was they'd be safer out there. There was always risk no matter where they went, but less so around strangers. He was far from anti-Muggle, as Sarah knew, but generally speaking, he thought the two should remain separate. "But it will be good for Lizzie to start learning about the rest of the world. We can't always hide out, and there are so many places I'd love to show her one day."
After another kiss, a devious little half-smirk made its way onto his face, one that Sarah would recognise. "Want to go upstairs?" he asked, clearly ready for something other than just talking.
Sarah was in perfect agreement with her husband's first few statements about getting out in the world and taking Lizzie places, so she saw no reason not to simply jump to the next part with a cheerful grin.
"I would love to go upstairs," she replied, leaning in to give him a slower, more deliberate kiss. She loved it when he got that look. It consistently meant very good things for her, typically very soon.