Chapter 2: When Its Back Was Turned
James Sirius was eighteen years old and a Hogwarts graduate. He felt on top of the world as never before, or at least more so than usual. Life had been kind to James, exceedingly kind. He was tall, athletic, and handsome, never wanting for friends or dates. His talent on a broom rivaled that of both parents, which accounted for the numerous offers from various professional teams seeking him out. The wealth of his family meant he would never struggle to get by, which also meant he could afford to be generous with others.
What could a wizard want, when he had it all? Popularity, talent, and money? Why, he wanted what he couldn't have, of course. Or at least what he shouldn't have.
Mother and sister were out visiting Aunt Angelina and cousins Fred and Roxanne. Father and brother were out grocery shopping. The house was empty, save for James, and the family owl. What better time to invite over a guest? A guest whose company he wished to indulge in to the fullest.
"I wonder why the Harpies didn't give me a shot," James joked. "Aren't I pretty enough?"
Teddy laughed from across the table, shuffling the pile of letters between them. "You're very pretty, Jame."
James's heart fluttered at the nickname only Teddy used. The upward curve of those soft pink lips always set butterflies racing in his belly. Teddy was too aware of his charm, flushing pink and dropping his brown eyes. When they met James's again, they were the pink-orange of sunset. James laughed softly and glanced away, horrified to feel his own face heating.
"Well," Teddy continued, clearing his throat. "You know I've always been a fan of the Falcons."
"Yeah," James agreed, which was precisely why they were in his top three. "The Tornadoes have always done very well."
Teddy had played Chaser, as James did, while in school. He'd had offers himself, though he had never cared for the game professionally. It disappointed his grandmother and godparents. Not only his refusal to play professionally, but his lack of ambitions at all. To them, all of Teddy's talents were wasted by his aimlessness. He had no passion for any career, instead moving from one job to the next, wherever his wandering heart took him. James didn't mind. He found it endearing, really.
James found much of Teddy to be endearing.
"Here," James said, boldly rising from his chair and walking around to Teddy's side of the table. He sank smoothly into the chair beside the older wizard, leaning in close and resting his hand near Teddy's to point out one of the offers. Teddy didn't move his hand away. "What do you think of the Kestrels? Dad really thinks I should go with them."
His heart drummed enthusiastically in his chest when Teddy turned his face towards his. Uncontrolled, his previously brown hair sprung into pale blond curls. "I hate to sound cheesy, but I really think you should just follow your heart."
"You may be right," James agreed. It so happened that his heart led him forward, pressing his lips confidently against Teddy's. His mouth was every bit as soft and sweet as it looked. The blond curls were silky between his fingers, hugging each digit lovingly. Teddy's hand cupping his jaw drove every thought right out of his mind. He wasn't sure at what point he slipped into Teddy's lap, but he was very glad to find himself there.
Shopping done, Harry dropped Albus off at home before turning and driving to Severus's cottage. Apparation or Floo would have been faster, but driving gave him time to think. The owl this morning bore only a short note requesting his presence this afternoon. No explanation, not even a please. Harry should have declined.
Instead he drove eagerly, mind buzzing with possibilities. By the time he pulled into Severus's driveway, all of that excitement had given way to dread. There was only one reason Severus would want Harry alone. He thought the whole drive about the incident after Christmas, the kiss that still left him burning with desire. It had been the right thing to do, to send Severus away, but he still felt abiding regret for doing so. He loathed himself for surrendering to the kiss, even if it was only a kiss; he loathed himself for not surrendering more of himself, marriage be damned.
Severus was right. It wouldn't have been the first time. Setting the car into park, he stared at the too familiar door and slumped back into his seat. He had helped choose this town and this house for Severus, helped him move into it. This was where their story truly began.
After all Severus had done for the war effort, it was the least anyone could do to make sure he was set up well in the aftermath. Harry was a frequent visitor to St. Mungo's during his recovery. To Severus's irritation, Harry insisted on helping him find a new home, a new job, and making sure he attended all of his follow-up appointments. The Falmouth cottage suited Severus's needs nicely, with a garden for ingredients and a spacious basement workroom for brewing. His new career as a potioneer contracted to St. Mungo's provided ample freedom for experimentation and prestige by association.
Harry wasn't sure when his helpfulness became selfish, when a sense of obligation bloomed into friendship. At some point the biting remarks became friendly jibes. At some point tension melted into companionship. They still fought until Harry stormed out in a fury, but he always returned and Severus always let him.
The first year after the war was difficult for all of them. Harry drank more than he should until Ginny badgered him into therapy. She saw a therapist herself. To no one's surprise he was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. He and Ginny broke up and got back together no less than five times in a three year period, though the public never caught wind of it. The press painted their portrait with the colors of glory, never suspecting the darker shades of fear and resentment. Only when Harry was kicked out of Auror training for anger management problems did anyone become aware of a real issue. What had anyone expected, after all he had been through? After all he had done?
It was that day he realized he and Severus were friends, because the Falmouth cottage was the first place he thought to go. A scowling face greeted him at the door, but didn't refuse him or his requests for firewhisky. They didn't speak, only sharing companionable silence and shared grief. At some point, he passed out, and awoke midday on the couch with a hangover potion on the end table. The house was empty at the time. Harry assumed Severus was working and left in embarrassment before the man could come home.
Things had been simpler back then, Harry mused. Those were the days before he'd fallen irrevocably in love with the stoic man. The time when he could bear to be near his intimidating ex-professor without his heart shattering into millions of pieces. Those were the years spent suffering the worst of nightmares, trying to piece his life together, struggling to move past the horrors of the war. He had been so angry with himself and with the world, so bitter from all of the loss he had suffered so young in life. The weight of the world on his shoulders before he was old enough to understand. Did he miss the instability? The alcoholism? The fights with Ginny? The anger management classes? The hole in his life where purpose had once been?
Oh, but that was the hardest pill to swallow. He had been the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, for so long. Who was he now that his destiny had been fulfilled?
Ginny had stood by his side through all of it. Through her own nightmares, her own pain, selflessly offering him love and comfort. She stood up to him when he was hellish, was his rock when he was falling apart, and offered rare moments of beauty and joy in his darkness. So when he was twenty, he proposed and, within months, Molly Weasley had planned a romantic ceremony. Ginny was a vision in her simple white gown, white flowers plaited into her fiery red hair. With two little words he was welcomed into the Weasley family officially, and for a night felt more stable and secure than he had in years.
All that he went through, Severus was there in the background of his life. Nights with just the two of them sharing a drink and barbed words. One bad night on the couch had Severus sending him home with Dreamless Sleep. By the time the wedding rolled around, Harry was visiting Severus several times a week.
Falling in love with Severus had been a trap, a slow game enacted by a cruel fate. Life had been too crazy for him to spare extra thought for the growing civility between them.
Memories flashed through his mind and he sighed, pressing a palm firmly into his aching head. Harry should leave rather than test his resolve against temptation. It would tear them both to shreds if Harry had to deny Severus once more. What else could he do? He'd put Ginny through enough. She deserved better. He had been faithless too many times to count, if not in deed, then in thought. Difficult as it had been to turn away in December, it had been wrong of him to indulge as he had; kissing Severus back, touching every inch of the man he could reach, basking the feel and taste of him as long as he dared. It wasn't fair to Ginny. It wasn't fair to Severus.
It was wrong of him to hope for kisses today, that he might let himself enjoy. It was wrong to envision initiating a kiss himself. He shouldn't think that way, hope for those things. Shouldn't risk what might follow if he couldn't stop himself again.
It was hard. Because all he could think of now was the first time.
He had been twenty three at the time. Problems had arisen between Ginny and himself yet again, and they had separated. For the first time, Wizarding news outlets had caught on, broadcasting their breakup to the world. Everyone had theories about the dissolution of his marriage. A resurgence of Harry's anger? Yes, but not to the extreme it had once been. He was a working Auror now, after a successful anger management course. Alcoholism? Another win for the rags. Abuse? Never. They might yell, and he may have punched a wall or two, but he had never laid hands on Ginny like that, nor she to him. Cheating on both ends? No. Not that he knew of, at least.
Not yet.
Ginny had their Godric's Hollow home to herself, while Harry packed his belongings off to Grimmauld Place. There was peace, now that he and his wife weren't screaming themselves hoarse, but the house was lonely with only Kreacher for company. More and more Harry found himself in Severus's cottage, drinking his sorrows away. He was laid out on a rug in front of the fireplace, idly swirling the firewhisky in his glass, tilting his head up for every sip. If the liquid sloshed down his neck, his friend didn't comment on it. The crackling warmth of the fire settled his nerves, and the drink in his hand chased away every miserable thought. Only when he finished the first glass did he pay mind to the room around him, sitting up to pour a second. To his surprise he found Severus watching him, such intensity in his gaze that set his pulse racing. Irritation set in, half expecting the man to berate him, ready to jump to his own defense.
It took a few seconds for Severus to realize he'd been caught. An ugly flush stained his sallow face, turning himself away from Harry's scrutiny. When he glanced back, his face was tense and guarded, but heat lingered beneath the surface, causing Harry's stomach to knot. Harry licked his lips. "What?"
Infuriatingly, the man only quirked a brow.
"You've been staring at me," he huffed impatiently, setting his glass aside.
"I'm waiting for you to finish whinging so that I might have some peace," Severus replied smoothly. Too smoothly.
"I haven't said a word!" Harry snapped.
"You're moping."
"I'm drinking! Bloody hell."
"You're agonizing over some foolish bint who can't be bothered to make her marriage work," he snarled. "All she desired of you was your fame and fortune. Now that she has that, what need has she of you?"
"What?" Harry asked. At first he was too stunned to be properly angry, though he could feel wrath bubbling beneath the surface. He laughed incredulously, shaking his head. "It's not like that. Ginny's not…Ginny doesn't care about those things. I told you, we've been fighting a lot. It's not anyone's fault. We…we both have a lot of stuff to work through. But she's not…she's not like that."
"Why not?" the older wizard demanded coldly. "The poor little Weasley chit has never known anything but poverty. The only reason anyone has paid her any mind was her connection to the Boy Who Lived. Before you befriended her moronic brother, she was nothing. Now? Now she's the wife of our savior, Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, with probably more money than she knows what to do with, her face plastered all over the media. All of her wildest fantasies have come to life. Now, as any young gold digger would crave, she is off to find other avenues to expand her fame and wealth. She's used you for all you're worth and now you are to be cast aside without thought or care."
"What the bloody hell has gotten into you?" Harry demanded. "Ginny's been nothing but good to your ungrateful arse! Now you want to say…she's not…how could you think that?"
"How could you not, you blind fool?" Severus spat furiously, pushing himself out of his armchair. Harry scrambled to his feet, knocking over his glass in the process. Was the man really going to fight him over his wife? Where had all of this come from? Severus advanced on him. "Will you crawl back to her the moment she deigns to want you again?"
"Why wouldn't I…I wouldn't crawl, but…she's my wife!" Harry exclaimed, words as jumbled as his mind.
"A foolish mistake on your part, I must say." The taller wizard was too close, sharing his air. Harry backed away until he hit the wall, and Severus met him there.
Harry's heart picked up, racing erratically. "You're not jealous, are you?"
Fury flared in Severus, and Harry thought he saw hints of panic join in. "Why you little…"
"Jealous! That's it. Because you're stuck here all alone," Harry spat. The older man snorted, but Harry rambled on, trying to make sense of the anger that had taken possession of his friend. "You may be a heartless bastard, but even you get lonely. Do you miss my mum? Is that it? Does Ginny remind you of her? Or is it just Ginny you want?"
"I am hardly attracted to your wife, Potter," Severus retorted. "She has the body of a prepubescent boy. I am frankly astonished by the amount of lust she supposedly inspires in her fan base."
"She does not look like a boy!" Harry fumed. Ginny was beautiful. Her body was healthy and athletic, not a stick figure like one saw in magazines, or the curvaceous figures Ron preferred, with more breasts than one knew what to do with. Her long red hair was every bit as feminine and feisty as she was. It made perfect sense for people to want her. She was one of the prettiest witches Harry knew. "Merlin, what is wrong with you?"
"There is nothing wrong with me," Severus replied stiffly. "I am merely puzzled by your wish to remain in a marriage that clearly is not working for either of you."
"You seem awfully ready for me to divorce her," Harry laughed bitterly. "You do want her, don't you?"
"No, Potter, I do not want her."
"Then what…"
"Are you truly this dense, Potter? Must I spell it out for you?"
"Please!"
Harry waited on edge, pressed against the wall, watching Severus struggle with his decision. The older wizard was at a loss as how to proceed. Severus ran so hot and cold, one or the other, but the ice was melted and the inferno blazed within. Harry could feel the heat of it, the anger of it, sensing something else lurking alongside it. Severus was so in control so much of the time, but Harry was one of the triggers that dragged all of his repressed rage to the surface. Only Harry wasn't sure how he had set it off this time. He had only asked a simple question, leading them here. Now Severus looked for all the world wishing he could run away or punch Harry in the face. Possibly both.
"It would not be wise," Severus finally said, clutching to what of his dignity remained after such a display.
"Don't play the coward now, Snape," Harry snapped.
There was one surefire way to push Severus's buttons. Before Harry was aware of his movement, Severus's hands shot forward, grasping the front of his jumper, urging Harry up to his toes. "Don't you dare play this game with me, Potter. I'm no coward, as you should well know." He licked his lips and glanced away. "You don't understand what you are requesting. You would surely regret the acquisition of such knowledge, were I so inclined to share."
"Only one way to find out," Harry dared. The air between them was fraught with tension Harry wished to dispel. He knew the taste of it too well by now, with every fight between Ginny and himself, between himself and Severus. He thrived on it. He hated that about himself. Nervously he licked his lips and Severus's gaze dropped to follow his tongue's movement.
Suddenly the grasp on his jumper loosened, fingers instead digging into his hair and Severus's mouth was pressed viciously against his own. Immediately he tried to jerk away, but there was nowhere to go. Severus's grip on him tightened, pressing him harder into the wall, teeth and lips weapons against him. Panic surged within him and, with all of his strength, he managed to shove Severus away and punched him in the face as hard as he could. Severus fell to the floor and Harry ran from the house without looking back.
For two weeks he didn't see or hear from Severus Snape. Yet he was with Harry all of the time as he replayed the kiss in his mind over and over again. Not jealous of him over Ginny, but jealous of Ginny over him? It didn't make sense.
It didn't make sense how his mind reeled with possibilities. He was too aware of his mouth, wondering if it would have been better if he had kissed Severus back. No, it was a cruel joke, a spiteful means of getting Harry out of his hair. And yet…there was the fire burning within the other wizard, something more than anger. Lust, his mind supplied, looking back. Anger and desire tangled within. It spoke to the same tangled mess within himself. Rage called to rage, and as to the other…Harry didn't dare ponder it.
It wasn't until Ginny first uttered the word "divorce" two weeks later that gave Harry the courage to see his friend again. Nervous energy ate him up, demanding release. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it as he stormed up to Severus's front door, letting himself in without knocking. Severus rushed in from the kitchen snarling, vexation turning to wariness when he recognized Harry. Harry thought he might hit him as he marched up to the man.
But Harry didn't hit him. The arms that reached out instead grabbed Severus, pulling him near, grasping into stringy, greasy hair, pulling him down into a very thorough kiss. Severus's arms didn't hesitate to wrap around him, holding him as close as possible. The hours that followed needed no words, only the passion driving them into the bed upstairs. The dark, hateful mass within Harry broke loose that night, purged from his soul by every hungry caress and needy kiss.
Even now, every inch of his body tingled in response to the memory. He bit his lips, swearing he could feel the ghost of those searing kisses against them. Skin burned to think of skillful hands worshiping his bare flesh. More importantly, the vivid image of Severus finally pressing deep inside of his body. Emerald eyes fluttered shut, head falling back against the seat, butt cheeks clenched against the ache of emptiness contrasting the remembered burn as his body was stretched open for the first time around his lover's generous cock. The pain never mattered compared to the rewarding sensation of being so full. He sighed quietly at the scene his mind replayed of sweating, writhing bodies and the constant stream of moans and gasps. Embarrassingly he felt his trousers grow tight as he became steadily aroused, eyes flicking open, willing the thoughts to flee when he realized what was happening and where.
He couldn't stay. He couldn't do this. With a shaky hand, he fumbled for the gear shift to reverse. Severus was in the doorway beckoning him inside before he could do so. Had Severus not been so recently injured, Harry might have thrown himself at that tall, imposing figure. "Take me," he'd whispered that night, pleased by the way Severus trembled beneath his hands. "Please." Harry turned off the car, already cursing himself as he followed Severus inside.
This was always easier with Ginny and the kids. Harry hadn't visited without them in the past five years, since he finally put an end to their torrid affair. Five long years since Severus had been inside of him. There was nothing Harry wanted more than to drag him upstairs and ride him into oblivion. Ginny and the kids he reminded himself, bracing himself as the door clicked shut and he was alone with the man he loved.
"No need to be afraid, Potter. I don't bite," Severus said, smoothly lowering himself into his favorite chair. "Not unless you beg me for it."
Desire burned in his gut, though he forced himself to roll his eyes as naturally as possible, calmly sitting on the couch as far from Severus as he could be. "I'm sure people request it often," he muttered sarcastically. Teeth nipping at his mouth, sinking into his neck, scraping against his inner thighs. Harry blinked rapidly to banish the images.
Severus smirked slyly. "More than you would care to know."
Ice shot down his spine, shocking to the fire that had been boiling his blood. "What?" he asked dumbly.
Severus looked at him as though he were being intentionally stupid. "Don't tell me you were under the assumption that I play celibate when you're not spreading your legs for me."
Actually, that was exactly what Harry thought. While Harry felt undeniable attraction to the man, he was not traditionally handsome. Nor was he traditionally charming. In fact, Severus was right unpleasant most of the time, to most people.
Also, Harry knew that Severus loved him. He might not be the most expressive person in the best of times, but Harry knew it was true. Just as he knew that Severus knew Harry returned that love. It did surprise him that Severus had known other lovers since Harry. While he was with Harry, as well? Not that it mattered. It couldn't matter.
"What? When? Who?" Harry babbled unthinkingly.
"That is hardly any of your concern, Mr. Potter," Severus said, appearing to relish in Harry's discomfort. "A few individuals over the years. Most recently I have shared an arrangement with a coworker. Esther Unger."
"Esther Unger?" he repeated. Looking into this woman would be easy, particularly for the Head Auror. Coworker. That meant St. Mungo's. A healer, perhaps? Or a fellow potioneer? Did they have sex here, in this house? Harry felt lightheaded. Or maybe at the hospital itself, in dark closets or on worktables. Who was this woman? Probably ugly, Harry thought viciously, and older. A few minutes of thrusting to ease the tension and back to business, clinical rather than passionate. He'd ask his secretary in the morning to do a bit of digging, just to see. "I don't…why?"
"Don't look so hurt," Severus said, still deeply amused. Harry scowled at him. "You've been shagging that cow for twenty years. You hardly have the right to oppose my sex life."
"Don't talk about Ginny that way," Harry chided on rote, still caught up by the welling ache within. "She's my wife."
"Then perhaps you should have remained in her bed and kept your heart in her capable hands."
"Is that why I'm here, then?" Harry asked, latching onto anything that would drive the idea of Severus with Esther from his mind. "Trying to win me - "
"I will spare you the humiliation of actually having to finish that statement," Severus said dryly, raising his hands to halt Harry's words. "You are truly as arrogant as your father was." Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, to snap at him for dragging his father into the discussion per usual when matters grew strained between them. Severus kept talking, raising his voice to prevent Harry jumping in, "This is not about you. Rather, our sons."
That gave pause to any venomous comments Harry had at the ready. His anger began to dissipate as he stared at the man. Rarely did Severus refer to James and Albus as their sons, instead as "your sons" or "the boys." Even when it was just the two of them. Maybe he thought it would keep them from slipping up, to always phrase matters that way. Maybe it eased his conscience, to separate himself from them. It always warmed Harry's heart, the few times he acknowledged he was the biological father of his sons.
"James and Albus? What about them?"
"Albus knows."
"Albus knows what?" If Severus wanted to talk about the boys, to call them his, something dire must have happened. Hardly able to wait as Severus considered his next words, he prompted, "Knows what?"
"He is aware that I am his father. His other father," Severus clarified.
"He what?" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He paced helplessly, thoughts whirring wildly. "You told him? Why?"
"I did not tell him," Severus scoffed. "What sense does it make to tell him but not his brother?"
"Then how does he know?"
"I do not know how," Severus lied. Harry knew it was a lie, knew Severus too well after all of this time. He was too smooth, his gaze too steady. "Only that he does."
"How do you know?"
"Because I am more observant than you," Severus spat. "That is the likely cause of our predicament. While Jim may have taken after you…"
"Does it physically hurt you to call him James?" Harry muttered. For the longest time, Severus refused to call James anything other than 'the boy.' They had been fighting around the time James had been born, which was why Harry decided against Evan James, the name they had originally agreed upon, and instead named him James Sirius out of spite. Severus had never used the boy's given name, opting for the diminutive that no one, not even Severus, liked.
"…athletic and clueless. Albus, however, inherited my intellect," Severus continued smugly. The hint of fatherly pride touched Harry, who had to turn away from him to fight back his smile. "When he remained behind the other day, he made his discovery clear to me."
"What happened?" he asked irritably. If Albus knew, they were in trouble. They never intended anyone to know, not even the boys, loathe as he was to lie to them. It was better this way, for everyone involved. For Albus to know…
"That is between Albus and myself," Severus replied. "Though I do believe you deserve to know. You may discuss how to proceed with your wife. I would suggest, of course, that you inform the other two before they find out on their own. Or before Albus divulges the information himself. He has…kept this information to himself for years, apparently. I am under the impression, however, that it is beginning to weigh on him. Better this comes from you than anyone else. Now, do try to resolve this before they come breaking down my door. As you and Ginevra made it your duty to raise the boys in a lie, it is your responsibility to explain it to them, not mine. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," Harry sighed.
Albus had felt calmer, in some ways, since speaking with Severus. One on one time with his dad today went even further in easing the resentment that had been building these past six months. It felt normal, chatting about the family, Albus choosing what snacks he liked best, offering his opinion on what his dad should cook for the week. It had been a nice day spoiled on the way home when Harry mentioned offhand his plans to visit Severus. He had not responded, only gazing out at the passing scenery.
Why was Harry going to see him alone? Could there be any reason but sex? Would Severus tell Harry what Albus knew? Perhaps there was some investigation Harry needed Severus's advice on. Albus liked to think the middle of the day, family waiting at home, would not be the time Harry would plot a seduction. Or Severus, for that matter.
Even if sex wasn't the primary goal, didn't mean it wouldn't happen. Albus wasn't sure he trusted them together. With a resigned sigh, he watched Harry drive off. He watched until the car was completely out of sight. He was still watching minutes later, clutching the shopping bags, lost in thought. Maybe Albus should have said something. Maybe he should have stopped him, somehow. But his presence, his input, wouldn't change anything in the long run. If they were going to do this, Albus couldn't stop them.
With a shake of his head, Albus finally headed inside, striding straight for the kitchen. The bags fell from his hands, staring in horror at the scene before him. James was seated on the kitchen table, arms and legs wound around Teddy who stood before him. They were making out rather enthusiastically until they heard the groceries hitting the floor. Teddy pulled away from James as though burned. The shock had his hair turning a bright, frizzy yellow.
"Need help?" Teddy stuttered, darting forward to pick up the bags. James was grinning sheepishly as he slid off of the table, straightening the rumpled letters he'd been sitting on.
Teddy was practically a brother to them! He was six years older than James. And, most importantly, he was engaged to their cousin. Albus stared at Teddy as he unloaded the bags and put the food away, as though nothing was wrong. He thought of beautiful Victoire, with her long blond hair and her musical laugh, and how shattered she would be if she knew. They always seemed so happy together. (Just as happy as Harry and Ginny always seemed.) What else could Teddy want but for a beautiful, kind, gifted fiancee? (Harry's preference for a bitter, old man over his beautiful, loving wife.)
Albus hurt for Victoire. He hurt for his mother. Two wonderful women who didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve Teddy kissing James. Didn't deserve Harry driving off to fuck Severus in the middle of the day.
"How could you?" Albus whispered, turning to look at his brother. Smug James, who always got what he wanted. Selfish James who had so much and always wanted more. James frowned at him warningly. Play it cool, little brother, his expression said. "How could you do this to Vic?"
Teddy flushed pink and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but James beat him to the punch. "Ted's always been a bit bi-curious. I was just helping him out, that's all."
"He's supposed to be marrying Vic!" Albus shouted, stepping forward to shove James. James shoved him back instinctively. "You're no better than Severus, are you?"
So close, it was so close. The words on the tip of his tongue, and they tasted rotten.
"What's Uncle Severus got to do with this?" James demanded.
"He's been fucking Dad behind Mum's back!" Albus shouted.
James gaped at him. "What?" James laughed and glanced at Teddy, then frowned. Albus looked to Teddy, as well. Teddy who was staring determinedly at his hands as he mindlessly straightened jars on the counter. "Ted?"
"You knew?" Albus asked.
Teddy shrugged. "I…saw them. Once. Years back."
"It's true?" James was shocked.
"You saw them?" Albus prompted.
"Yeah. In…Uncle Harry's office," Teddy explained. "Severus was…" Albus didn't understand how Teddy's face could turn even redder. He gestured helplessly.
"He was what?" Albus demanded, morbidly curious.
"He…he was…" his face was pained as he whispered "sucking him off." He rubbed his hands over his face. "I was, like, twelve, I think. I ran off before they could see me. At least, I don't think they saw me. No one ever said anything."
"Oh my God," James said weakly, plopping gracelessly into a chair.
"Do you know the rest of it, then?" Albus asked, seized by horrible adrenaline, the high of finally setting the truth free.
Teddy's brows furrowed. "The rest?"
"Did you know Severus is our father?"
"No," Teddy breathed. His mouth hung open, gaping incredulously at Albus.
"He is not!" James exclaimed. "What the fuck, Al? Knock it off. Both of you knock it off."
"Severus knocked up Dad, James!" Albus argued. "And you inherited your selfishness from them both."
Albus left them, then, storming off to his bedroom. Awful relief filled him up, even as guilt ate away at his gut. Good riddance, he thought. It was the least they deserved, all of them. None of them cared about commitment, about love, about anyone but themselves. Albus collapsed into his bed, hugging his pillow to his chest, and it was a while before he realized he was crying.