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[Lettie! FINALLY]
NOTE Backdated to a few days after New Year's.

Two months was nowhere near enough time to adjust to having a son.

Barring a few rare cases, most men had nine months to prepare for the appearance of a child in their lives. Drystan had a matter of hours to accept a newly one-year-old into his life, a single parent. It was fortunate he was well-to-do, so the matter of taking care of him, finding sitters when Quidditch called him away from home, was never a problem financially. He was clothed, fed, and other than that troubling feeling of why his mother never came when she cried for him, Drystan thought he and Stephen had taken to one another very well, in a parent/child respect. If he'd thought about it before Stephen had ever come into his custody, Drystan might have balked at the prospect of him becoming a father so young. There was so much he wanted to do in his life, so many things that had to come before children did.

But any time he felt resentment, or sadness, that he, too, was suddenly forced to grow up more than he wanted to, a simple glance at Stephen fixed that. Drystan needed the little boy as much as the little boy had needed him.

That did not mean that Drystan had any idea what to do with a baby, however. When the pediatric division of St. Mungo's owled him, informing him that Stephen was overdue for his inoculations, he immediately panicked. Was Stephen going to die without them? Or fall dreadfully ill? Was something going to happen to his nephew that was his fault?

Everyone assured him no, but Drystan thought it safer to have whatever needed to be done finished as soon as possible, though, and so he was waiting in the evening, baby in lap, hoping one of the Healers would be calling Stephen's name soon.