I'm not going to tell anyone who this fic is about, not until someone guesses (if, of course, anyone actually reads this), or until it's finished. It'll only be three or four chapters long. It is Harry Potter, but you have to look deeper than normal, because it's not about Harry and Hermione and Ron, or Lily and James, or Sirius and Lupin or anyone you would really think of, though if I decide to mention any names, it might give it away. JK Rowling said something on her website that inspired this, a history of someone that would never make it into the books. Well, enjoy… and good luck guessing.
It was always there.
Usually he could forget about it, push it to the back of his mind and force himself not to think about it. Between his family and work and the speed of the world, he could thrust it back down when it surfaced, distracting himself with other things. He welcomed the diversion, wanting to put it away forever, to make it disappear.
But at night, lying in bed with his wife curled up beside him, it haunted him. He was afraid that she could read his thoughts, perhaps see through the lie on his face. He hadn't meant to hurt her; in fact, he only wanted to protect her. He had thought it the best way at the time… the only way to keep her loving him. But over the years, it had grown more and more dangerous, and he wished he had told her from the beginning. Now he knew, however much he would like to, he could never tell her.
It was always there.
There was a muffled cry from the next room. Sleepily, he muttered, "I'll go get him." Heaving himself up from the bed, he blinked several times to rid his eyes from sleep and stumbled out the door, running a hand through his curly black hair. "I'm coming, you little devil," he said to no one in particular.
The baby was fussing in his crib, thick shock of black hair rumpled, an injured look in his black eyes, saying, I can't believe you left me alone. In the dark.
Smiling at the child in spite of himself, he lifted him gently out of the crib and held him against his shoulder, patting him on the back. "Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird…" he sang softly.
The moonlight streaming in from the window caught the ring on his third finger, glinting brightly. He gazed at it, a golden band against his black skin. It had been so easy, back then, to brush all his cares away and love without reserve. When he had asked his wife's hand, he had had no thought for the future. Sure, they were well off enough, each with a good job and neither with horrid spending habits. Money was not the issue. Nor were their differences. They loved each other, and they could work anything out in the face of that love.
No, the problems they faced lay in the secrets he concealed from her.
He had intended to tell her, originally, when the right moment came, but it never seemed to. Every time he had a chance, he hesitated, and then it was too late. Ah, Lydia, he moaned silently, what would you do if you found I had lied to you the last three years? The shame ate at him, like worms twisting inside his intestines. He was a good man, with high standards, and it hurt him increasingly more to lie to his wife.
His son back asleep, he laid him gently in the crib, tiptoed out of the room, and climbed back into bed. Lydia's hand found his waist and she snuggled against his chest, still asleep. He almost recoiled at her touch. I don't deserve you, my love, he wanted to cry. I'm not worthy of you. You've trusted me, your Nathan, you've loved me, you've cared for me, and I've lied to you for three years…
For Nathan was not an ordinary man. He was, indeed, about as far from ordinary as a man can get…
For Nathan was a wizard.