Written for the 'Slytherin Competition' of the HPFFC-Forum! My Slytherin was Pollux Black. (Why don't you stop by and join a challenge?)
Disclaimer: No copyright infringements intended!
Words: 608
AN: This isn't very long, it's actually pretty short, but I hope there's still a little bit sense in it... being a parent is never an easy thing and sometimes within this mess we miss what is most important...
The Odds and Ends about being a Father
Only six years ago I've been standing in the same dreadful place. Like today I had my family gathered around me. To my left my sister Cassiopeia stood and held my hand. On my right side were my first born son, Alphard and my daughter Walburga, none of them moving. The rest of our family too was with us, at least those of them who were still alive. I didn't cry back then, but today I feel like it wouldn't take much until I can't hold my tears back. I think age has weakened me in the end.
Today there is only one of my children left, my son, Alphard. When I turn my head to count the people in the crowd I can see, it has shrunken overall since the last time we've been here. And soon there won't be too much left of us. Threateningly a crow flies above our heads and settles croaking on the large object we all have our gazes fixed upon, a tombstone, reading "Walburga Black 1925 – 1985" A small lighting, a whispered curse and the crow falls to the ground utterly lifeless. "Bella!", I hear Druella, my daughter-in-law hiss, scolding my grandchild. A small smile is forcing itself onto my lips. Bellatrix has always had a thing for her aunt, my precious Walburga.
I remember the good old times when I still had all three of my children around me. I didn't spend too much time with them though and only today I realise, this has been a mistake. A father should never outlive his own children, but sometimes it happens however and then you have to cling to the moments you shared with them, otherwise it would kill you. My dear wife, may she rest in peace, never had to face this cruel situation.
Six years ago I took my rather by surprise that I had to watch how, of all things they buried my youngest child, Cygnus, whom I named after my father.
You see, my father too had been a lot like me with his kids. He always wanted us to see him as a role model, an idol, not a friend... but someone you can look up to. And we certainly did! My sister Dorea had kept bugging her friends in school about how gorgeous her father was and when we were still very little Marius always wanted to be him when we played. Besides, I wanted to be father too. I always thought that was the only right way to treat your children, dignified, sternly, some would have even called it cold. So I had been watching them grow up from afar, acting for what I wanted them to see in me, hoping they would become the best they could.
Today, as I stand between my youngest son's and my daughter's graves I feel very saddened. The best memories I connected with them were the times we ate dinner together. I always scolded them back then when they tried to talk during eating.
I can't say I'm not proud of my children, I am. I truly am! ...I just wish I had known them better...
As I leave the graveyard I feel incredibly sorry for how I used to ignore my kids. I am so caught up in this misery of mine that I don't even notice how I walk past my remaining son, who gives me a regretting look.
I don't know this yet, but in three years I will stand on this forsaken cemetery again and cry over the wasted time, time I never cared to spend with Alphard, the son I hardly knew...
~*~Fin~*~