Sometimes I think I must be the most selfish person I know.

I dunno. I just want her back so I don't have to worry about it anymore. It's driving me insane, I can't sleep... it's just like when Tracey was pregnant, only worse because at least I could watch out for her. I wish I could owl her, see her...

Work gets more and more frustrating. I met with the Head Healers over at LU, but I think they were looking for someone a little older and more experienced to fill the position, despite my recent achievements (selfish, again, and a little smuggish), so I don't hold out a lot of hope. I feel like there's something important I should be doing, something missing, but I can't figure out what it is.

I shouldn't be complaining. I'm not even 21 and I've got a wife and a family, two amazing kids... I guess I feel like I wish I had something more to offer them at the moment.

Not to mention, you know, a grandmother. Where are you, Mum?

I know she loves me. People keep telling me. But I wonder if it's really me she loves, or the part of me that's the child she remembers. I can't give her that no matter how hard I try, and her leaving... just makes me think it's my fault. That she can't stay.

Have to stop wishing.

Wel... her gose. Tomrow, getin marred. Tnite, went out with Shamus and Ron and Hary. Vey good, drank LOTS. Think... akchually, feel bit sick. Skuse me.

You know, about half my patients are on the verge of being suicidal, but I'm spending most of my time worrying about Tracey.

We've set a date for the 20th of next month. I thought she'd want it after the birth, but she said something about wanting the twins to have my last name. I pointed out that we could give them my last name anyway, but I think it's more than that. She's scared, and she's preparing for what happens if she doesn't make it through the birth.

I feel like I should say something, but what? 'Oh by the way, Tracey, you're not marrying me just so you don't die without doing so, are you?' There is no good way to phrase that.

But if it makes her happy, I'll do anything. So little makes her happy nowadays, it seems. Mind you, I'd be depressed if I was carrying around the weight she is all the time. Not to mention those little bastards are messing with her magic, so she can't Apparate or anything.

I'm surprised she hasn't started screaming and yelling at me for 'doing this to her' yet. I guess I have to wait till the joyous day arrives, for that.

Everything in my life is happening at once, feels like.

I proposed to Tracey. I was freaking out over the perfect way to do it... but then we were just sitting together, quietly, and it just felt... right. I didn't even have a ring! I found one the other day when I was going through Gran's storage vault; I'm fairly sure it was hers, but I've never seen her wear it, since she took it off when Grandad died, which was well before I was born. Anyway, Tracey loves it.

Then there's the pregnancy - I swear Trace gets bigger every day. It just makes it seem more and more real. If this is only half-way through, I dread to think how she's going to manage when it gets to nine months. She's not exactly what Gran would have called 'child-bearing material'. It scares me a bit... but so long as she's not worried, I'm not worried. As much.

Hanne and I figured out the last few changes to the anchor spell this week, but don't have a subject to test it on yet. She'll owl me as soon as she has a successful Healing. I've started carrying around a vial of it, just in case. If it doesn't work, though... I'm not sure if its worth the risk, honestly. Oath or no oath... I'm going to be a father in a few months. I'm not that stupid. I guess I'll have to hope that Hanne finds a patient before I do.

I can't believe it took me so long to make this decision. It's not like it was hard in the making.

I'm going to be a father.

Holy fuck.

Why do I have to deal with this again? Why? It's not fair.

I want to say it's Isobel all over again, but it's not. It's worse. Tracey was everything.

And there's a baby. Holy god, there's a baby. What do I do?

I didn't even get to tell her about Malfoy.

I really need someone to talk to about this.

I don't know - I go away for a week and everything falls apart. I'm the new guy - I shouldn't be the one having to keep everything together! Of course it doesn't help that my "boss" is now verging on senile and can barely sign his name, anymore.

Anyway, work is now insane. I bet I won't even get to see Tracey again until next week.

Date's set, we're leaving on Friday. I never thought I'd be so glad to have a week away.

I think Tracey might feel a bit funny about it... she keeps giving me these odd looks when she thinks I'm not looking. Maybe it's the money issue - I know, I shouldn't have made a fuss about it, but it's common decency - but I can't help feeling she's got another one of those mind-numbing revelations building up.

I've already had enough of those this week - apparently Malfoy has seen his father since he started gathering power for himself, so much for that assurance. More than seen, is working for. Double agent type deal. This gives me mixed feelings about my own relationship with the Order - part of me wishes I was more in-the-know, the rest of me is bloody glad I'm mostly out of it.

Anyway, I suppose I'd better see Malfoy before we leave, Merlin help me. I don't know, maybe I'd be happier if he'd sneer at me, just a little. The whole e'er-do-well attitude makes me uncomfortable. Sort of like Snape asking me for advice. Maybe I'd better not go there. Let's just say life is somewhat surreal, at this juncture.

Haven't heard much from any of my Academy schoolmates, including Roger, except I heard he was going to try for a transfer to St. Mungos. I don't know if I'd be able to handle his whole 'work is fun' epithet with people dying or slipping into comas all around me... not so much.

Oh, and my dad is ill. You'd think I'd have had more notice of this, what with working in the hospital but apparently that's too much to ask. Honestly. Hopefully just a cold, though Greg said something about his lungs... frankly it doesn't matter but it means I'm going up there at least once a day to check everything's all right. Exhausting and unnecessary, but I'd worry myself sick if I didn't.

Holiday, now, please.

I heard Professor Lupin was back, and even appeared at the party, but I haven't had a chance to do anything about it yet. Work has been... well. Up there in the list of things that have to change SOON, before I do something dramatic. Not that I would, I guess. But I saw a fourteen year old kid yesterday with serious Cruciatus burns on his mind. Fourteen. Who does that? Unless, well, you were Harry when he was fourteen. Poor kid. His parents are freaking out, and as usual there's very little I we can do.

Tracey and me. I haven't really seen her, not properly, since the carnival, which makes me guilty. She's working hard too, though, so perhaps its better that we don't have any distractions... still. I miss her. My social life would be beyond sucky if not for her... as it is, it's just plain sucky. At least I'm finally making enough to save up for a bigger place, so I probably won't have to move in with Roger. Silver lining.

The ceremony was boring, but I expected that anyway. Pats on the back, hugs and handshakes were exchanged, also expected. Whats-his-name who got the internship at St. Mungos glared at me because they kicked him out after two weeks of incompetance, and somehow that's my fault for lasting the full three months - not expected, but I didn't care that much. Too busy preparing for tomorrow.

Said goodbye to everyone at the clinic except Tracey. That would be stupid. But I am going to miss them. Home-share with Roger is now a bust, since he's going to be working in Khazakstan or one of those places... he seems quite pleased with it, but then he doesn't really have family or anyone waiting around for him. Anyway, I should be able to afford a better place relatively soon anyway, on full-pay.

Mr. N. Longbottom,

Thank you for your application and attached resume. Pending your graduation from St. Angia's school of Magical Medicine, we are pleased to offer you the position of Assistant Partner in Diognostic Destructive Medicine, under Head Healer Gregory Boynum, of that department. See further information and salary outline attached. We expect your owl by the 28th of February and commencement of position by 3rd of March.

Regards,

Hr. Tiffany Ignatius
Head Healer
St. Mungos Hospital
London.

PS. Neville, I was thrilled when I heard your application had been approved and couldn't resist adding my five knuts to the end of this. Be assured that those of us who worked with you two years ago during the war are still very fond of you and will do our best to help you here as we did then. Good luck with your graduation, I know you'll do just fine,
Horace Bailey.

{Private}

Hey, what do you know, I'm not completely useless. Score.

To put a damper on a really great day (well... two days) however, there was a message from Isobel on my answering machine when I got home. I should disconnect that thing, no one else ever rings me. Anyway, she wanted to know what I was thinking of doing after I graduate and if I wanted to meet up, blahblahblah. I hadn't even thought about her for months, I told Tracey about her and on that same day, she rings me. She's like the Chrestomanci: say her name...

I don't know why I'm even worrying about that, I should be focusing on my awesome night/day/night with Tracey. Focus focus focus. Late shift in three hours. What do I say? Oh crap, I actually can't think of anything, I'm going to be a gormless starer. Breathe. Breathe. I'm so bad at this it isn't funny.

Two weeks left until graduation. Got an owl from Roger asking if I want to shore up with him once neither of us are getting paid anymore... could be a good plan. Dirt poor and too proud to share is a bad combination...

I have to do something easy but thought-consuming. Anything around here needs pruning...?

So I have to go to work in... oh, five minutes, but I thought I'd scribble in here for a minute, since last night I somehow managed to regain full brain function by sleeping for nine hours.

I thought I was in trouble for a while there, but I can't be expected to know everything. I find things that can't possibly exist and other people can solve the issues they create.

Meanwhile, Earnest has played havoc with the books I left out yesterday morning. One day this week I'm going to be sponging owl-poop off the covers.

{Private}

Uhhhh. How much did I drink the other night? Ow. Gran was right about alcohol being the drink of the devil. DAMN YOU, ALL OF YOU, DEVIL DRINKS.

Also, damn to any particularly vicious breeds of mistletoe. Okay, I'm a herbologist, and I know that plants have to be charmed before they can talk, but I stick by my belief that the personality itself is ingrained in the pre-charmed state of the horrible things.

The whole night was just weird. At least I didn't get forced to do anything horrific during the most hardcore game of truth and dare the world has ever witnessed. I think I somehow managed to inform everyone of the fact that I never kissed a girl until after Hogwarts, but that's piddle compared to what everyone else was subjected to.

Oh fuck it, I have to go to work in five minutes. And see Tracey. Damnit. DAMN THEM ALL.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me. We finally get work experience assignments, and I'm stuck at some privately funded clinic. At least it's not too far away, but come on. I'm the only one in the whole year who's actually had any hands-on experience in the first place - I really doubt Dustin Georg, who got St. Mungos, was anywhere near the war. Twerp. Oh well, I suppose I better make the best of it. Time to go buy some new robes.

Um, my bad?

Okay, only a very slight family emergency, but it certainly kept me awake for three nights running. If I ever get to work at St. Mungos I swear I'm not going to call people until it's absolutely necessary. Like, if someone stops breathing.

... ugh. I need sleep. But I have to catch up on the six classes I missed. Kill me, kill me now.

My electricity's shot. Just when I was starting to really get the hang of Muggle stuff, too. (Muggle Studies was a total waste, by the way, they should just shove the third years into London flats and see if they survive). I probably forgot to pay the bill. Damnit.

I really need a job.

Can you say: SEVENTY-FOUR PER CENT?!

Yahoo!!

On another note, I now have a little beast of an owl who is still nameless. I have to find him somewhere to sit that isn't on my head.

..Look, pal, I'm not going to have any hair left, at this rate...

My very first ever neurology exam in is two days. TWO DAYS. That hardly seems fair, now does it? It may not come as a surprise to anyone that I'm rubbish at memorizing things, but, okay, you try remembering fourteen separate cranial diagrams, plus labels. This probably isn't the most productive way to be studying, but… well. You know.

My TV is no longer on the blitz. Great! I think it might be because I moved my Cypripedium into the kitchen. Stupid magical-electrical imbalances. Now the toaster will stop working, I suppose. I bet they don't act this way in Muggle households… maybe it's the fertiliser I used.

Well, I guess I can't put it off any longer. Eugh, books, eugh, studying.