Author's note: Here you go my sappy little reviewer you managed to pull at my heartstrings and thus chapters bloomed. Thank you to everyone for your reviews my dears. Please enjoy.
The house is warm and the smell of hot chocolate inspires cheer and heart-warming family bonding, but the effect is lost on myself and James. Lily and Al have goofy grins as they slurp up their drinks and they giggle at the chocolate mustaches they have acquired and plead for more marshmellows in their hot chocolate. James on the other hand has barely touched his drink and the marshmellows float on top, soggy and forlone.
I have a smile on my face but it is strained. It isn't that I'm not happy to be with my children, I am, but sometimes life hurts so much that even the little things just can't cheer you up.
I had made the hot chocolate almost as an apology for them only being able to see their mom every other weekend. And an apology for not doing my best as a father to keep our family together.
"Kids." I say. Lily and Al have both downed at least half of the hot chocolate in their mugs. James, though, has not touched his drink once.
"Yeah?" Lily and Al pipe.
"We need to talk."
Suddenly James' face lights up. "Is mom coming home?"
My heart sinks. Why couldn't she have told them herself? "No James, your mom and I won't be living together anymore."
James' face become sullen and he stands up swiftly, his chair scarpping across the tile.
"Why not?! Why can't you just apologize for hurting her?!"
My eyes widen and it feels like he just hit me with an expelliarmus. Does he really think that I have somehow hurt his mom? I take a deep breath and look at my edlest son apologetically. "I haven't hurt your mother James."
"Then why is she leaving?" he demands.
Lily is silent, staring at James with wide eyes that are beginning to look watery while Al's lips are pursed tightly, his eyes narrowed as he stares at his marshmellows, his fingers clenched around the white porcelain. The reasons fumble in my brain and I try to stop a brewing fight, but I am too late.
"Dad would never hurt mom, stupid!" Al yells at James before I can get my answer out.
"Al!"
Al cringes at my raised voice and I immediately feel bad about it, but go on. "Do not call your brother stupid. Now James, please sit down. I want us to talk about this as a family."
"We can't do that without mom," James growls. "We're not a family anymore!"
He then runs out of the kitchen and I hear him runnning up to the stairs and slam his door shut. I sigh.
Lily is now crying and Al looks like he is torn between crying and yelling some more. I get up and go over to my two younger children and wrap my arms around them. This is unfair, but I am their father and I will take the burden of the unfairness for them because it is not unfair to me. If Ginny wants to leave me because she no longer loves me then fine. It hurts but I want her to be happy, but to simply dump this all on our children without talking to them...
I don't care if she never wanted children, she had them and to do this to them isn't right. She dos have her own life and I respect that but she will talk to our children. I hold Al and Lily close to me and Al breaks into sobs along with Lily. I rub their backs, trying to keep from crying myself.
"Your mother still loves you guys," I promise them as they cry.
"Then why did she leave?" Al asks me, looking up with teary green eyes.
"Sometimes people just need to be alone for a bit," I tell them.
Al gives a brave little nod but then starts crying again. I pick them both up and make my way upstairs to tuck them into bed.
"Daddy?"
I look down at Lily whose eyes are red and puffy and her nose is running from all of her crying. "Yes sweetheart?"
"Can I sleep with you tonight?"
"Me too dad," Al says.
I give them a small smile. "Of course you can. Shall we invite James to join us too?"
"James is being a butt-head though," Al states and I frown at him.
"Albus you are not allowed to call people butt-heads, especially not your brother."
"But he is!" Al protests.
"No, he is just really sad, and besides we're all still a family."
Al doesn't look to happy about this, he is probably still miffed at the way James blew up in the kitchen but I don't want James to feel left out. He is just as much as this family as any of us and he is taking it particularly hard.
We approach James' door and it sounds like he is crying in there. I give a light knock and the crying stops.
"James," I call softly. "We're gonna have a sleepover in my room and we were wondering if you wanted to join us."
"Go away," a cracked little voice answers and I sigh. Al looks like he wants to snap back but I shake my head.
"You're welcome to come by if you change your mind, OK?" There is no reply but at least he knows he can join us. I sort of want to break down the door and drag him along but I know I have to let him come to me. Hermione and Molly have both warned me this might happen and that if I push it he might just grow distant out of spite.
"I love you James!" Lily calls, her sweet voice cracking on the "you" and I nuzzle my nose against her cheek and neck.
"We all do," I say and then I take my two youngest ones into my room.
I wake up a few hours later to the creak of my bedroom door, something I refuse to fix as it eases my paranoid mind to know that just in case someone is trying to sneak in I will wake up. My mouth is dry and there are two warm little children, one curled up aginst my right side and the other one curled up on my stomach. They snore lightly and I reach over them for my glasses on the nightstand but then the door shuts and I hear small feet edging towards the bed. I bring my arm back to where it was laying before, and lift my head to see the outline of James pause at the foot of the bed.
"Hey James," I croak.
"It's cold in my room."
I give a smile even though he can't see it and pat the empty space on my left. It takes a second but then James climbs into the bed and nestles under the covers. He isn't pressed against me like Al is but at least he is here. "Goodnight James, I love you."
"Night dad."
When I wake up ing the morning all three of my children are pressed close and I realize that I can keep going even without their mother there to help.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
"Mnasferganesduetch."
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
I raise my heavy eyelids, wincing at the bright winter sunlight, and as I begin to gain consciousness at the insistence of a continuous rap at the window which grates on my mind I am fully awoken by a sudden jolt of pain in my neck and down my spine which reminds me that I have fallen asleep slumped over my desk. I lift my head and half of a small memo bounces as it is released from being stuck to my cheek with the help of dried drool. I rub my eyes and the memo drifts to the floor but I pay it no heed as I look around for the damned tapping.
It comes from the window and I see a vaguely familiar owl perched outside the window looking indignant amongst the piles of snow outside. I groan, it is going to be quite diffiuclt to open that window against all the snow from the blizzard and besides why is there an owl out there anyways? Is it seeking refuge from the cold? Why not just go back to it's owner, I have no time to tend to an owl. I ease myself from my chair hoping that the careful movement will be kind on my back but it isn't and I wince slightly with a groan; I am no longer the spry twenty-something-year-old who could pull all-nighters for work three days a week.
At the window I look at the bird with raised eyebrows and notice that it has a package and a letter. Strange, no one ever contacts me at the office, all business matters come through Milo and all personal correspondence is taken in by the house elves at the manor if I am not in. The owl blinks in reproach and I give a sigh and then stretch my arms high above my head until I feel and hear the satisfying crack of my shoulders and back.
I brace my hands against the window, a small hiss escaping my lips from how cold the window pane has become and push. The owl flutters back, waiting, and eventually the snow mound on the window seal outside budges with a crunch. I shiver at the bracing morning air that filters in from outside and pull my robes closer around me once the window is opened enough.
The owl swoops in and gives me a cold stare for making it wait so long, but I ignore its stare and take the package and letter when it extends its leg to me. Once its delivery is done it rustles its wings and then swoops away. I raise an eyebrow and look down at the letter and recognize Potter's handwriting. My heart makes stupid little palpitations and I shut the window, enough cold air has infiltrated my office to sufficiently awaken me.
At my desk I open the letter and slide out the parchment and my eyes scan the small letter, more of a note really, and the right corner of my lips quirk upwards. The letter reads:
You were right, I needed to be with my children. Sorry I couldn't come bring you breakfast but the kids and I are having a bit of a lie in, but we sent you over a bit of our breakfast. I wouldn't trust the third scone on the right though as Al woke up with a bit of a fever and that's the one he picked out for you. Anyways I, well we were wondering if you and Scorpius might be free next Tuesday for breakfast? Our treat. I hope you're just as warm as us and I look forward t your reply.
Harry
I shiver again, Potter's words reminding me of how not warm I actually am and I open the package he sent. The scones are soggy from sitting on the snow and being so close to the owl's body heat but the gesture is nice. What is really nice, though, is that there is a thermos which smells delightfully like tea. I wrap my hands around the thermos and sigh with content at how warm it still is. Upon opening the thermos it pleases me to confirm Earl Grey Tea, just what I needed. I give a small smile and close my eyes as I inhale the comforting scent of still hot tea. I can just picture Potter and his kids bunched up in his bed eating scones and getting crumbs everywhere, the younger two spilling their tea on Potter's comforter.
When I open my eyes they are a bit misty and I blink it away. There is no need to feel lonely over such an image, I can just as easily go home to Scorpius and do the same thing, without the crumbs and tea-spills though. I look over at Harry's handwriting and sink down into my chair, my hands beginning to sweat a bit from holding the thermos. I sigh.
Being friends with Potter is going to be a lot more complicated than I had anticipated, especially with the bastard naively butting further into my private life and more importantly my heart.
A/N: so it's been over a year...be gentle please.