#is that in my parents vacation house in france there’s no heater and in winter it gets cold as hell in house

[marsuro]

Wordtober day 1: Frigo 🇫🇷

Challenge of this year is a word in a different language each day, so 31 languages in total!

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

for @poppy27 Number 18 and two more that seemed to fit!

18: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

26: Which one gets more excited over the first snow of winter?

16: Who makes the other hot chocolate?

Simon

It’s our second day in Hampshire. The sky looked like it wanted to snow all day yesterday but it finally came down overnight. I pull open the curtains in Baz’s room and the whole countryside is transformed—white and soft and shimmering in the morning sunlight.

 “Baz! It finally snowed!”

Cool arms circle my waist and Baz rests his chin on my shoulder. “I should expect you’ll be out in it all day then?” His lips brushing my ear make me shiver. Not because I’m cold.

I lean my head into him. “It is the first snow of the year.”

Baz 

It got colder overnight. I haven’t bothered to build up the fire yet. I far prefer Simon’s warmth. I’m wrapped around him, soaking up the heat that’s radiating from his skin. 

That never changed, after he lost his magic. He doesn’t have that smoky, green scent anymore. But he kept the heat.I’m grateful for it and not because it warms me when I touch him. I’m thankful because it’s always been part of Simon and it’s something that wasn’t taken away, when he poured his magic into the Humdrum.

I miss Simon’s magic. Not as much as he does, of course. No one could ever miss it as much as Simon does. 

He’s coping. He’s managing to live his life without it.

There are times I think I can feel it. It’s probably my imagination, my wanting to sense it again.But I swear to Merlin there are moments when I catch the faint scent of his magic or feel the distant thrum of it when I touch him. I know that scent. I know that magic.

I know what it felt like coursing through me, overpowering my senses, making me drunk with the overwhelming power of it. Making me warm. Making me not feel so alone.

Making me feel so connected to Simon. 

It took my breath away.

We don’t talk about it much anymore, the loss of it. I don’t want him to get his hopes up. I don’t want to get my hopes up. The magic is coming back to the holes. It’s been coming back slowly for months now. Little by little. Filling the places that were lost. It started here, actually. Professor Bunce thinks it’s because this was one of the last places the Humdrum attacked. The later holes are the ones that are filling up the quickest. The early ones are still void of magic.

My family moved back here a few months ago. It’s nearly back to what it was before, just a few small dead spots in the woods. I walked through one the night we arrived, when I was hunting. Makes me shudder to think of it.

To think back.

I wasn’t sure if we should come. Father wanted us here for Christmas. The whole family did. We haven’t been here since that Christmas. We’ve visited my family in Oxford, at my father’s  London flat, vacationed with them in France. But this is the first time we’ve visited Hampshire since they moved back into Pitch Manor.

 I wasn’t sure how Simon would feel about coming back but he’s been absolutely enthusiastic about it.

Not about the wraiths or the gargoyles on my bed, mind you. He’s still prejudiced against them. 

It’s been comforting for him to hear that the holes are filling in, I think. Simon has taken on a lot of guilt for occurrences that were beyond his control. He’s felt responsible for the holes. For my family having to move. For magic being lost.

It’s made me think about Simon getting his magic back. I can’t talk to him about it. I can’t let him think it might be possible. I can’t let him hope.

I can’t let myself hope.

But logically if the magic is coming back to the holes then there should be the possibility of it coming back to Simon. Professor Bunce agrees with me. We’ve talked about it, those times when we visit and Simon is occupied catching up with Bunce and her numerous siblings. He’s cautious but hopeful.

I’ve tried to push my magic into Simon. Like he used to share his with me.

It doesn’t work. I can push it to him but it doesn’t last. It lets him feel it for a moment, maybe cast a single simple spell but then it’s gone. Having it for a moment and losing it again is almost worse than not having it at all. 

I don’t do that anymore.

Simon shifts in my arms, turning to face me. He’s frowning.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking, Baz.”

“How do you know I’m thinking anything? I’m just trying to get warm. The fire’s gone out again.”

“I know you, you absolute wanker. I know that look. Whatever it is you’re obsessing about just stop.”

“I’m not the obsessive one.”

“Isn’t that a laugh.” Simon grins up at me. “You know me better than I know myself sometimes, Baz.” He pulls me closer and his lips brush over mine. “Stop it. We’re having a snow day and you’re going to enjoy yourself, if I have to make you myself.”

I lose myself in his lips, pulling back reluctantly to rest my forehead on his.“Must I go out in the snow?”

“You know the little ‘uns will love it. You don’t have to spend all day outside.”

“You’re going to make me frolic in the snow, Simon. I don’t do that. Pitches don’t frolic.”

“Rubbish. No one’s asking you to frolic. Build a snowman or snowwraith or something with Mordelia. Pelt the twins with a snowball or two. Take Magnus down the hill once.” Simon cups my face with his hands. “Then you can come inside and curl up by the fire with a book.”

“I’d rather curl up with you. You’re warmer than the fire.”

“Is that all I am to you? A personal heater?” There’s a smirk on Simon’s face now.

“It is convenient.” I can’t keep from smiling back at him.

“Who’s going to entertain the little ‘uns if I’m keeping you warm inside?”

“They’re old enough to entertain themselves. I certainly managed, at their age.”

“Yes, but you’re an anomaly.” Simon kisses me on the nose. “Now come on, Baz. We’ve got fresh snow and sun and four little people who need to get out of the house!”

I build a snowman with Mordelia. Ophelia and Acantha end up pelting me with snowballs. Magnus won’t go sliding down the hill unless he is on my lap.

I make snow angels with Simon and kiss his flushed face until Mordelia kicks me in the shin and tells me to stop snogging.

She seems to think because she’s just turned ten she’s some kind of monitor now.

I leave Simon to the not-so-tender mercies of my younger siblings and head inside. I don’t curl up by the fire with a book. I stand at the window and watch Simon.

He’s a natural with children. He gets down on the floor and rolls around with Magnus. He listens carefully when Mordelia or the twins tell him stories and fancies. He asks questions about their nonsense and encourages them to tell him more.

He laughs at Ophelia’s jokes and Acantha’s terrible puns.

I don’t know where Acantha gets her penchant for puns. The twins are far too precocious for seven year olds. Almost as bad as Mordelia.

Simon’s chasing them all in the snow now, pelting them with snowballs. They make a unified attack and take him down, Magnus clutching at Simon’s leg. He’s covered with snow and trying to shove all four of them off. 

Simon looks glorious.

I drink in the sight of him for another moment.

Then I head to the kitchen to tell Vera to expect a snowy maelstrom of children at any minute.

I’ll start making the hot chocolate.

Simon 

My fingers are numb by the time we all get back inside. Magnus is shivering, poor little blighter, and the girls’ hair is all crusted with snow. 

Ophelia lost her hat somewhere out there. Acantha is missing a mitten. I’ll have to send Baz out to magic them up later.

We tromp into the kitchen, trailing snow across the pristine floor. Vera’s eyes widen at the sight of us mucking up the space but Baz reaches us first. 

He spells the mess on the floor away and then proceeds to speedily get his siblings out of their snow gear. He’s fast and efficient and tender all at the same time.

Baz doesn’t realize how he is with the little ‘uns. He snaps at Mordelia, yeah (she has no concept of privacy) (he’s had to spell the door of his room shut) (she’s almost walked in on us) (thank Merlin for vampire hearing.)

But he’s softer than he admits. He’ll spend hours in the library reading them stories or telling them tales he just makes up on the spot. They want Baz for bedtime stories, when he’s home. And even though it takes hours to get all four of them down he still does it. Every time.

Magnus follows him around like a little shadow. Mordelia is the only one who’s managed to get the eyebrow raise right. Doesn’t stop the rest from trying. Makes me laugh, it does.

Makes me think sometimes. Think of what he’d be like. As a father.

Then I make myself stop thinking about it because it scares me.

Because I don’t know how to do that.

 I’m terrible at so many things. I’d probably be awful at that too.

And I don’t want to be awful at it. 

Because it should mean something, to be a parent. 

And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

“Stop it.” Baz hands me a cup of hot chocolate.

“Stop what?”

Baz’s arm slides around my waist. “Stop thinking. Your brow is all furrowed. You’re going to scare the children.” He kisses my temple.

“I never scare the children. They think I’m a git.”

He pulls me closer. “You know they don’t think you’re a git. They love you more than me, I think. You’re far more congenial.”

“That I am. Not hard to manage that though. You’re piss poor competition for congeniality.” Baz bumps his hip into mine, nearly upsetting my hot chocolate. I drink some, to keep from spilling it.

The children are all seated at the table, hot chocolate and biscuits monopolizing their attention. I rest my head on Baz’s shoulder. “I’m glad we came. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.”

Baz

“I know.” I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it either. 

Watching Simon with the children makes me think. Think of what it would be like.

If we had our own.