Chapter 3

They kept up appearances for the children's sake, and for the next week, the three young ones were happier than they'd been in years. Ginny moved back into her old room under the pretense of wanting to give them lots of "Mum time" to make up for what they'd missed, and she herself wanted to catch up with them, so it was win-win. For them.

That week, Harry saw little to nothing of his wife and barely anything of his kids, as Ginny daily took them on outings without telling him anything, and nightly after dinner, if they hadn't eaten at wherever without him, they piled onto the bed in her old room, transfigured to comfortably fit all four of them, and listened to her read fairytales they'd long grown out of until they fell asleep, each clutching a part of her till morning.

Last night, Harry had stood in the doorway for nearly an hour staring at the heap of his wife and kids sharing the giant bed, wishing he wished he were among them. As long as they were happy, he was content to pretend that everything was hunky-dory.

By morning, the façade had started to crack.

The first blip came before sunup, when Lily had a nightmare and woke everyone with her crying.

"How could you forget us, Mum? Didn't you love us enough to remember?" Harry heard as he opened the door.

Lily was crying on Albus's shoulder and holding James's hand while Ginny rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.

"I'm so sorry, Lily. I'd never choose to forget you," Ginny said.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"Daddy!" Lily ran to him and hugged his waist. "I dreamt Mum was gone again. And you were gone too. And Al and James. And I was all alone."

Harry's heart broke for his daughter. He squeezed her tightly and rubbed her head as she dampened his shirt with tears. "No one's leaving you, Sweetheart." He glanced at Ginny as he said so. She held his gaze with tired eyes for a moment then looked away.

When Lily settled down, Harry didn't go back to sleep, as he would be up in a few hours anyway to make breakfast. Besides, these days, he wasn't having much success in the sleep department. He sat up in the darkened kitchen sipping cold coffee, waiting for sunrise and thinking.

Things couldn't go on like this. Everything had seemed well enough at first, but now he felt the family cracking. Of all the kids, he had thought Lily the most resilient. She'd always seemed to bounce back the fastest from upsets. He had a feeling his recent withdrawal from their lives had been a major cause of her nightmare. More than once the kids had told him he should join them on their trips, but he kept giving lame excuses to avoid them. That had to stop. Things might be shaky between him and Ginny, but they could at least be civil to each other around the kids. At this point, it had to be obvious that they weren't speaking.

He wished he could take back his declaration that night. Even if he wasn't sure what exactly he felt for Ginny now, he knew it couldn't really be that he'd stopped loving her. It was more that the target of his love had vanished for too long, and now that it was here again, he didn't know how to reconnect. He was just waiting for everything to click back into place. Maybe he felt some resentment too. Ginny got to come back and move on like nothing had happened, but he would always remember the agony of loss, the terror of loneliness, and the exhaustion of pretending he was fine 24/7. And she would never know what it felt like to be haunted by his living ghost.

Under Harry's direction, golden brown toast flew around the kitchen, chased by butter knives and jam spoons, fried eggs sizzled in a pan with chopped sausage, and bacon strips flipped on the griddle to sear their other sides. He was so used to his morning duties, that he could do them in his sleep, which he'd proven many times after his most exhausting nights. His timing was often so perfect, that the kids would come in just as the last plate reached the table.

Now water for Lily, o-j for Al, and chocolate milk for James…

Harry stilled at the sight of Ginny's dragon tail mug on the top shelf of the cabinet. It was his first Christmas gift to her as her husband. After the accident, he'd put it there out of reach as a sort of memento of the past, and the kids had followed his unspoken rule that it was off-limits.

Reaching up with both hands, he carefully took it down and inspected it. The outside was gritty, coated with a grey film of dust that had settled on it over the years. Inside it was more grit and a dead flour weevil. With his fingertips, he smudged off some of the grey, revealing vibrant maroon beneath. Suddenly he thought of Ginny sipping tea on the sofa with her feet on his lap, threatening to kick him if he tickled her.

He dumped the weevil then scoured the mug under the faucet until it was smooth to the touch. Setting it on the counter, he poured in a quarter cup of milk then topped it up with tea and a heap of sugar, just how he remembered Ginny liked it. After spooning a taste and judging it right, he set it aside for her with a charm to keep it hot.

The kids reached the table as the bacon was flying to its plate. Behind them, Ginny came in looking…radiant.

Harry shook his head and started piling food onto the kids' plates. When Ginny sat down, he put the tea in front of her then retreated to the other side of the table. At first, she only stared at the mug, frowning like it offended her, but then she picked it up and started to drink.

Listening to the kids chatter and watching Ginny sip her tea and sometimes smile, things almost seemed alright.

She handed him the papers already signed, just his signature needed to make it official.

He stared at the top page for a long time, reading the title over and over until his vision blurred. "You really want this?" he finally asked, unable to look at her face.

"I just want you to be happy," she said. "If not with me, then whoever."

A million thoughts ran through his head. "The kids…," was all he could say.

"I don't want to hurt them," she said. "But I don't want to live a lie."

"What lie?" he asked, straining through his tightening throat.

"That we're married," said Ginny. "That you love me."

"I love you, Ginny," said Harry.

"No. You loved me. I believe that. But I think you don't see me anymore."

Harry raised his head to look at her, but she had already turned her back.

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"Your problem," said Severus, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, "is that you want to be prepared for anything that might happen. But you will never be, so you'd best give up now."

Harry had wound up at the Snape residence by instinct. He'd shown Severus the divorce papers, crumpled to the floor, and then mentally disintegrated. Severus had scooped up his bits and pieces and deposited him in a chair, then after getting the details from Harry, summoned a bottle of firewhisky and commenced doling out advice steeped in drink. Now the two men sat next to each other in reclining lounge chairs, a tray table and a nearly empty bottle of Ogden's Old between them. They had been discussing Harry's crisis for several hours and each gone through several glasses, the disproportion of which was evident in Harry's slurred speech.

"I juss…feel like…issa trick," said Harry, blinking at the ceiling, his own glass sitting loose in his hand. "Nothing good's free."

Severus gave him a look he reserved for gone off potions. "And what does it cost you, Harry?"

Harry pondered the question with his eyes closed. "Piece ummind."

"Nonsense," said Severus. "Your so-called caution cost you that." He put down his glass then stood up, swaying a bit as he dusted off his robes. "What have I always told you, Harry? My favorite lesson that I never failed to repeat?"

"Life inn't fair," said Harry, morosely, and reached for the bottle to refill his glass.

"Exactly," said Severus, then grabbed him by his shirt and hoisted him to his feet. The glass fell and shattered, but he paid it no mind. "Listen to me, Harry. Life isn't fair, and often it is far from kind, so when it hands you a miracle, take it and run." He held Harry's shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes. "You have your wife back. For however long doesn't matter. She's here now. She could be gone tomorrow. Or you could be. Don't waste your time worrying about it."

Harry started to slump.

Severus shook him upright then dragged him to the fireplace. He took something from a box on the mantel and pressed it into Harry's hand, then he shoved his other hand into a bowl of floo powder. "You would squander this chance at happiness because you're afraid of disappointment?" he said scowling at him. "Gryffindor bravery at its best."

Harry gaped back at him in drunken alarm. The thing in his hand was a vial of sobering potion. He pried the stopper out with his teeth and gulped the contents in one breath, then he threw the powder into the fire and shouted for home.