Chapter 5: Heart Strings Tear and Tangle
Chapter Text
They always visited on the same day at the same time: Sundays at noon. Every week, disturbing his peace. Yet Severus was not surprised when noon came and went with no knock at the door, no Floo roaring to life, no crack of Apparition. He fixed lunch in the silence, a simple sandwich. No, Severus was not surprised. But he was disappointed.
It had been a long time since they'd missed a Sunday, but they always sent their apologies and explanations, with promises to see him again as soon as they could. Always he would roll his eyes at the need to reassure him, denying the comfort it brought him. They wanted to see him. They would come again. They would come as soon as they could. And as was his specialty, he denied to himself the pleasure he took from their company.
Visitors were few and far between, other than the Potters. Longbottom dropped by from time to time with ingredients he traded for the occasional potion, as needed. When he had a new invention he would bring it by for Severus to determine its usefulness in potions. Now and then Longbottom would bring his wife, and they would discuss their various projects. Hannah's background in medicine gave her insight her husband lacked into the particulars of Severus's trials. Even rarer he saw the Minister herself; Hermione was a busy woman, but they maintained frequent correspondence. Anyone who didn't know any better might call it friendship. Severus viewed it as two intellectuals with a minimal pool of individuals to share a decent conversation with.
Only the Potters could he count on for frequent socialization. Severus had spent much of his life alone, relying only on himself. It would be Harry bloody Potter that would destroy his routines, his defenses, and his appreciation of solitude. It was wrong for a Sunday to be so still and silent. Severus watched the clock, at the hands ticking by, putting off his work on the off chance they came. Not, of course, for their sake - it would be a terrible hassle to stop his proceedings to greet them.
Sundays were all he had anymore. Harry's regular visits stopped over five years ago when he decided they could no longer continue their entanglement. Now he clung to the snippets he received when the children were not clamoring for his attention, given only the crumbs of Harry's life. Ginevra might have claimed the majority of him, but Severus had at least staked his claim on some piece of Harry. It had not been enough then, and now he felt starved for it. For his touch. For a smile, even. Damn the boy to hell for for the mess he'd made of Severus and his life. On days such as this, Severus loathed him as passionately as he loved him.
Yet, it was not only Harry he missed. It was Jim's mischievous grin, contrasting so sharply against the tenderness he often displayed. The world was a joke to his eldest, but he also loved with his entire heart. Then there was Albus, mind always whirring with possibilities, cleverly noting the most inconsequential of details - just as sneaky as his siblings, but more thoughtful in his every move, every word.
Even Lily, sweet Lily, with all of her father's heart and courage. She was not his flesh and blood, but he could not help but spare a piece of his heart for her radiance. Her nose wrinkled when she smiled, like her namesake; and she laughed as boisterous and free as her father; for all that she shared with her mother, Severus could not hate her. Not anymore.
Ginny's pregnancy with her only child had tormented Severus. At times he was sure he had never hated anyone so venomously as he hated her and her spawn. Never had he hated Harry so much, even in his schooldays. His skin crawled at the thought of the new life they'd created, the one tether to Harry that only Severus had possessed before now.
When they brought the boys to visit, he could see the soft adoration in his lover's expression, the radiant glow of the mother-to-be. Young boys roughhousing. Harry holding Ginevra's hand. Children squalling. Ginny's stomach swollen with new life, with a piece of his Harry. Harry, who was his. Harry, who gazed at her with free affection. Severus had bitten back the words he wanted to spew, commanding them to leave, only because he knew it might stop the visits Harry paid him on his own.
And Severus treasured having Harry all to himself.
Towards the end of Ginny's pregnancy, even that had become unbearable.
Distinctly, Severus remembered the day Harry stepped through his Floo with a nervous smile. "Baby shower," he said by way of explanation. "Fleur's kicked me out. Do you mind company?"
"Is Ronald not available to entertain you?" Severus had snarled.
Harry's shoulders slumped. "I wanted to see you."
Severus grit his teeth against the warmth in his middle. Pathetic, how easily swayed he was. Harry was only here because his wife was distracted. "You should leave."
"Why?" Harry demanded. "What is wrong with you lately? Between Ginny's mood swings and your crankiness, I'm going insane!" Severus snorted and headed towards the kitchen, only Harry ran in front of him before he could. "Did I do something? You've been an arse for months now!"
Severus laughed bitterly. "You don't know why? After all this time?"
Harry's brows scrunched together. "No. I can't read your mind, Sev."
"If you weren't so clueless, perhaps you would have seen the signs," Severus spat, retaliating against the surge of tenderness at the use of the nickname. "If you had more than half a brain in your thick skull you could probably pinpoint the very moment this began. Maybe you would have realized the moment your 'good news' was announced that I was not nearly so glad for the perfect couple as every other imbecile."
Harry's expression turned shocked. "Oh."
"Oh," Severus snorted. "Oh! Your eloquence is as charming as ever. How does one survive as an Auror with such outstanding obliviousness? It should have been clear that I would not celebrate the man I love having a child with someone else!"
Harry blinked owlishly. "You're in love with me?"
"You know that I am," Severus accused, seething as he loomed over the shorter wizard. "You know it, and you wield the knowledge against me every time you come crawling here when she doesn't have the time for you."
"That's not why I come," Harry denied vehemently. "I love you, too, you great git!"
"Don't," Severus growled. "Get out."
"I can't."
"Leave!"
Harry grabbed his arms to stop him turning away, emerald eyes pleading with him, melting his resolve. He had always been a fool for those eyes. Harry's hands moved up to his face and he grabbed the man's shoulders in turn, wishing he could shove him away. This was the time to walk away, clinging to what remained of his heart and his pride. The hero belonged with his lovely wife and his picture-perfect family. He needed to leave Severus well enough alone.
"I love you," the boy swore, the truth of the words reflected in his determined gaze, etched deeply into every syllable he spoke. "I hate hurting you. I hate it so much. I'm hurting you, I'm hurting her…" He swallowed. "I hate myself for it. I do. But I love you too much to stop. I can't stay away. I can't let you go. Please understand. You have to believe me. Don't make me go. Don't push me away. I couldn't bear it."
For all he'd sworn of Harry's ignorance, he had at least seen that much in Severus's face, his posture. Severus swallowed the words he wanted to say, that, if he had his way, Harry would never leave him again. He had confessed more than enough for one day, without confessing to his depraved need of the other wizard. Never before had Severus craved the touch of another man, yet here he was, obsessed with the little fool, spitting image of his worst nemesis. Fate was a cruel mistress.
Rather than humiliate himself further, he kissed Harry deeply, pulling him close. Instead he tempted the truth from his lover's lips, with every touch as he undressed him, only bending him over the back couch once he'd begged for it. Was it guilt or desperation that drove Harry, who had only weeks before sworn they could never resume their affair. The reasons didn't matter. He wasn't a foolish man. Whatever he was offered, he would take and treasure every moment of it. He luxuriated in taking Harry, triumphant in every keen and cry from his lover, and when he at last released himself within Harry, he lamented that his seed would never find purchase in Harry's body. Severus had brewed the contraceptive himself.
It was not another child he wanted, but another claim staked on Harry.
Harry returned to him frequently after that, offering his love while Severus vindictively withheld his own. He had a wife at home to offer him such platitudes. It was that wife who sat heavily pregnant at home caring for two toddlers while Harry moaned wantonly beneath Severus's thorough ministrations. He was sure to send the boy back into her loving arms completely wrecked. Severus clung to this smugness as he lay in his lonely bed.
By the time Lily was born, Severus hated her less. Still he imagined snatching the newborn from her mother's arms to throw her into the nearest wall. He was able to refrain from such.
Love was a gradual thing, born naturally over Sunday visits with her brothers. Severus watched her grow. As he was supposedly godfather to James and Albus, they also named him godfather to Lily. She always offered him smiles and hugs. Little Lily would bring him drawings, sing him songs, and always complimented the simple meals he served. Her heart was as generous and loving as her father's, her defiance and loyalty as fierce as her mother's.
She was difficult to hate, was Lily Luna Potter.
A knock on the door tore Severus from his reflections. His heart lifted, though he knew they rarely used the front door. They had an open invitation to his Floo system. Knowing this, he still rushed to the door, masking his emotions as he cracked it open.
"Good afternoon, Severus," Hannah Longbottom said, tone a touch too cheery even for her. Beside her stood her husband, wearing a sad smile. Hannah lifted a basket draped over her arm. "We brought lunch, if you don't mind the company."
Hannah waited as Severus eyed her husband. This was not the way of the Longbottoms, to drop by for purely social reasons. No, they knew. Severus gritted his teeth. The blasted boy had told them. The question was, were they here due to their own concerns, or due to Harry's?
Pride demanded he slam the door in their faces. Still, there was kindness in those guileless eyes. Regardless of his own nastiness in their formative years, they maintained cordiality at every visit. Despite all he had done to earn the hatred of everyone he knew, they stood here, pitying him.
Loneliness wrestled with his pride as he gave a sharp nod. "Very well."
In the dining room, Hannah unpacked lunch. Sandwiches, though much more satisfying than what he had been making, with sides of crisps and fruit. Severus offered beverages, more politely than he might during the average visit. Silently they settled around to eat.
"Potter sent you, then?" Severus finally asked.
"He said you might be wanting company today," Hannah said cautiously.
"They're rather busy," Neville added, less cautiously. Hannah shot him a look, but Neville had eyes only for Severus. He never spoke his judgments outright, but he never hid them. Neville was much more direct with Harry, he knew, having heard such from his lover. Neville had warned Harry from the start not to follow along with Severus's wishes.
If only Harry had listened.
"Busy mending what 'my' lies broke?" Severus snarled.
Hannah shot her husband a look. Neville had opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when he saw her. Hannah turned a smile to Severus. "You're not the only one to blame. But we're not here to blame anyone." Beneath the table, she kicked her husband's ankle. Severus should not be so amused by that. "You're agitated because you miss them. I understand. I'm sure they'll come around eventually."
Severus took a bite of his sandwich, glancing away to avoid answering. He did miss them, but he would not stoop to admitting so before the Longbottoms.
"They're still your family," Neville sighed.
"They're also Potters," Hannah added. "They won't leave you behind, Severus. Give them time."
Still, Severus said nothing. Slowly he chewed his food while the Longbottoms exchanged wordless communication. When Hannah mentioned one of Neville's crossbreeds might be useful for his experiments, Severus latched onto the conversation. He only made a few snide remarks about Neville's last experiment nearly killing him. Loathe was he to admit how Hannah's reassurance eased him. The least he could do was tone down his snark.
For a week the boys had been gone, Albus staying with the Malfoys while James hid away in the flat Teddy and Victoire shared. Ginny didn't blame them needing time and space. Still, home was so quiet without them there. Home was tense, as she barely spoke to her husband. Only Lily timidly carried conversations between the two. Harry worked later and later, and Ginny wished she could think he was sneaking off to his lover, if only to fuel the anger that was so overtaken by sorrow. Her beautiful life was crumbling around her.
And her sons? Who knew if they even loved her still, knowing the truth.
Ginny would soon find out, at least regarding one. It was Sunday, and no word had been mentioned of visiting Snape. Ginny was pleased by this. Harry had taken Lily to visit Ron's family. Ginny declined to join them due to the owl she'd received while Harry fixed breakfast.
Mum. Meet me at Malfoy Manor this afternoon? - Al.
The short note, scribbled in Albus's atrocious handwriting, was rolled neatly in her pocket as she arrived by Apparition outside of the front door. Neatly she knocked, standing tall as Draco Malfoy let her in. "Good afternoon," he greeted politely. "This way. You'll have privacy in the drawing room."
Privacy. Ginny wondered just how private the conversation needed to be. Wondered how much Draco Malfoy knew now, about her sham of a marriage. Albus had been here a full week; plenty of time to spread his story. None of the papers had broken the news yet, but that didn't mean no one knew.
Albus was sitting quite still in a sleek gray armchair. His chin was propped up on his knuckles, free hand tracing nonsensical designs in midair. He didn't look up as the adults entered the room, but nodded when Draco informed them he would be in his office, should they need anything.
"Thank you," Ginny said belatedly, just before the door shut. Perhaps it was bad manners, but as soon as it closed she cast a Silencing Charm on the room.
"They wouldn't listen in," Albus commented, green eyes finally flicking up to her.
"Better to be safe," Ginny stated. "Unless they already know?"
Albus shrugged. "I told Scorp. He won't tell anyone, though. I trust him."
Her secret in the hands of a sixteen year old boy. Ginny breathed deeply to remain calm and steady. There was no helping it now. Scorpius Malfoy knew. They would deal with it. Whatever happened now they would deal with.
Unsure of herself, Ginny drew deeper into the room and settled herself on the chaise nearest her son. Hands folded in her lap as she looked around the expansive space. For the last week she'd wanted nothing more than to see her son again, but now that she was here she didn't know how to behave. Silly. She was still his mother, whatever he thought. This reminder gave her strength as she turned to face him. He was watching her, those green orbs so reminiscent of Harry, but it was the probing nature of him that spoke of his other father.
"Why did you stay?" Albus asked.
"Well," Ginny breathed, crossing her legs and sitting forward. She had not been prepared to have this conversation with anyone. She should have expected this. Of course Albus would want to know every nitty gritty detail, however painful for either of them. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Your father got pregnant with James when we were separated. I didn't imagine he would…cheat…when we reconciled. I agreed to be a mother to James because I loved your father; it didn't matter that he wasn't mine. I wanted a family, anyway. What did it matter how motherhood came to me?"
She didn't mention the screaming and crying when Harry's pregnancy was confirmed. The letter from Severus Snape, scolding Harry for ingesting an experimental potion by accident. Swearing the Longbottoms to secrecy as they used Hannah's mediwizardry skills to monitor the pregnancy. It had hurt, deeply. It had been confusing. Harry had never shown an inclination towards men before, let alone such an old and ugly bat. One who had made their lives hell for years. Ginny had been willing to move on, for the sake of her marriage, for the sake of the innocent child Snape scorned.
"James was about a year old when Harry became pregnant with you," Ginny continued, wishing away the trembling of her voice, wishing her nerves weren't so frayed. "A drunken mistake, your father said, and he swore it would never happen again. I took James and stayed with my parents for a week." Her parents, together for four decades by that time, urged her to fight for her marriage. They didn't know the truth. Ginny had been too ashamed to tell them.
Besides, she loved Harry. She loved her little family. When he made his promises, she chose to believe him. "I gave him a second chance. I agreed to fake another pregnancy, to pass you off as mine. I…suspected their affair resumed while Harry was pregnant, but…I never had proof." Harry spent so much time with Severus, but he was the child's father. It was natural to be drawn to him, wasn't it?
In the end, it was Ginny he always came back to.
"Maybe I…turned a blind eye," Ginny admitted. "I didn't want to believe it, so I refused to. What could I do? I was a mother and a wife. I loved Harry. I loved you and your brother. I wasn't going to risk the life we worked so hard for. I wasn't going to lose everything I had because of Severus Snape." She bit her tongue. That was Albus's father, she was naming with such vitriol. "So we carried on. After Lily was born, though, I…It became too obvious to ignore."
Harry had come home late one night. As she curled up next to him, she inhaled the unmistakable scent of potion fumes, herbs, and that bitter musk Severus sprayed to cover the rest. Harry drifted right to sleep while Ginny lay beside him, head swimming with visions of the pair entwined, of all the ways that scent could be so thick on her husband. She hated him at that moment. She could have killed him.
"We fought. I took you and your siblings and left time and again, but we always came back. You always asked for your dad. And I missed him, too." Ginny couldn't bear to look at him anymore. She was embarrassed. How pathetic to love a man so much, to be so willing to put up with so much.
"And you were embarrassed to leave," Albus guessed shrewdly. He tapped his lip thoughtfully. "Didn't want to admit to failure. Didn't want to admit your husband was cheating on you with a man, let alone which man."
"I stayed because I love you," Ginny snapped. Albus was too smart for his own good. However right he was, those were not her primary reasons. The only reasons that mattered were her children.
Albus shrugged. His eyes flicked from side to side, chewing his lower lip as he thought. Ginny waited uneasily. She felt exposed. Her younger son had always seen so much more than anyone wanted. It was no wonder he'd found them out.
"Have you ever seen them?" Albus asked curiously.
Ginny blanched as she shook her head. Thankfully she had never actually seen anything. Touches that lingered too long, gazes that spoke too much, but nothing graphic. The worst she'd been witness to was hearing Harry groan the man's name in the shower. These past five, almost six years, she couldn't begrudge him that, however much it hurt. He was at last faithful to her. She could tell. Harry didn't dare to visit Snape alone, ever. At least, not until recently. Still, Ginny could see the strain of it in her husband and was satisfied.
"Teddy saw them," Albus commented. "When he was twelve."
"He saw?" Ginny demanded furiously. Teddy had always been like a son to them. Andromeda had allowed free access to their godson his whole life. The maternal beast within her roared at the idea of an innocent child walking in on two careless adults. "No," she breathed, the horror of what it meant sinking deeper still. Teddy knew? If not the whole of it, then part of it. But that was over a decade ago.
"Yes, Severus was -"
"I don't need to know the details!" Ginny nearly asked for the details, to know how precisely her godson had stumbled upon them, but it was history and had no bearing on the here and now.
Albus grimaced apologetically.
"He never said anything?" Ginny asked, though she already knew.
"No," Albus said. "I guess he wanted to forget about it. Maybe he wanted to protect you."
"Maybe," Ginny agreed. Non-confrontational Teddy would want no part in that. His peace-loving heart wouldn't want to disrupt the seemingly happy family. It was easy for him to push aside any unpleasantness No, Teddy wouldn't breathe a word. It hurt her heart to consider how well his sweet nature benefited them.
"Will you and Dad stay together, even now?" Albus asked.
"Of course," Ginny replied. It would take time for them to heal, but she had not come this far to give up now. She and Harry had weathered worse storms.
Albus frowned. "You shouldn't." Ginny's surprised look deepened his frown. "Mum, you should have dumped him ages ago! You can do better!"
"I love him," Ginny said. At Albus's incredulous look, Ginny continued. "You don't understand. We all struggled, after the war. It affected us all differently. If your father formed this…unhealthy attachment to Snape…" Veering off into dangerous territory again; whatever Ginny felt towards Snape, she would not disparage him to his children. "We've dealt with it, Albus. Your father and I care deeply about this family and the life we've built. We've both put in the effort to make it work. And it's finally working, Albus! It's ended." She sighed. "You've only just learned it."
"I found out when I was nine," Albus corrected. "I found letters and photos in Severus's attic. And then ours."
"Right," Ginny said, thrown off course momentarily. The upheaval was so recent, she'd forgotten that detail. "Still, you've never known the whole story. You don't understand. It's all fresh for you and your siblings. But it's over now. They're over."
Albus chewed the inside of his cheeks as he considered something. Ginny wanted to fuss him to stop, before he hurt himself, but held back. "It's not over," Albus said.
Ice dropped into Ginny's stomach. She could have sworn Harry was truthful, confident she would know if the affair resumed.
"Not that," Albus quickly amended. "Only…they're in love, Mum. You can see that. It's obvious."
"Your father might care for Snape, but Snape doesn't know what love is," Ginny denied. So much for holding back regarding Snape. Albus only looked at her sympathetically.
"Even if that's so," Albus said. "As long as there are feelings there, it will never be over."
"I am not discussing this with you, Al," Ginny stated stiffly.
Albus looked like he wanted to argue, but a firm look from his mother cowed him and he slumped down in his seat.
"I love you, Albus," Ginny went on gently. "I am your mother. I always have been, and I always will be, whatever you think about it."
"I know," Albus said sadly, quivering of his jaw betraying his emotions. "I love you, too."
Ginny sighed. "You can stay here a few more days, if you need, but you need to come home soon. You can't hide forever. Or take advantage of the Malfoys's hospitality."
Albus nodded. "Wednesday?"
"That's fine. Be home in time for dinner," Ginny said as she stood. Albus stood, as well, and awkwardly approached her. The uncertainty of him broke her heart and Ginny held back tears as she opened her arms to him. Albus shuffled into them, hugging her tightly as he hadn't since he was a boy.
"Bye, Mum," Albus said. "And…thanks."
As she withdrew her Silencing Charm and left the room, her son's words whispered repeatedly in her ear. "As long as there are feelings there, it will never be over."
It was those words that drew Ginny back to every Sunday visit with Severus while the children were at school. Easier to ignore what existed between them when the children were around. Easier to stomach the visits to begin with when the children were an excuse. Harry liked to say they visited to keep the habit, but Ginny knew better. Difficult to begrudge him weekly visits when he otherwise stayed clear of the man, these past few years.
More often than not the two men bickered. "Like an old married couple," some might say. The phrasing made her queasy, though it occurred to her occasionally. It wasn't all bad, though. They spoke of the children at length, a topic Ginny was happy to offer input on. It put Severus on edge, she knew, and she liked that. They spoke of work. Proper friendly chit chat. At times the men played chess or cards while Ginny flipped through a magazine. Other times they would walk through the back garden while Ginny watched from the kitchen window.
Most bizarrely, she and Severus would maintain civility while Harry fixed them lunch. Work, the news, idle words to fill the air. Ginny bore it easier these last years, because she knew Harry was not sharing Severus's bed. She could read it on them both. Could cut the tension with a knife. Oh, they wanted each other, but Harry held himself back. Harry had chosen her, at last, and Severus loathed her for it. Ginny basked in it. His forced civility was icing on the cake. Behaving himself, for Harry's sake.
Ginny liked to forget that she was doing the same.
Now she looked back on those Sundays dizzily. The ties between the men were invisible, but a heavy presence in any room they shared. Ginny's attendance was the only barrier keeping them apart. She let herself be dragged to that man's house every week to babysit her husband. The two men could not be trusted alone with one another.
Could not be trusted alone because the war had traumatized her husband into loving a tormented criminal. Could not be trusted alone because Severus's obsession for Lily Evans had morphed itself into lust for her son. Sick of them both to surrender to their confused desires.
Would this be the rest of her life? Carrying on this charade, deigning to play nice with the man who still held her husband on a leash? The man who had touched her husband, kissed and licked her husband, put his greasy prick inside of her husband. There she sat, dutiful wife, thinking she had the upper hand when all she really had was a part in their twisted game. Would she be eighty, ninety, a hundred years old watching as they tortured each other with their proximity? Would she sit on that couch and smile smugly because she got to bring Harry home with her?
"As long as there are feelings there, it will never be over."
"Mrs. Potter?"
Ginny's hand was on the doorknob leading out of the manor. She didn't remember the walk here. Turning, she found Draco Malfoy standing tall and dignified, a curious twitch in his cheek.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said, bemused.
Draco cleared his throat. "Our sons are close. You may call me Draco."
"Ginny, then."
Draco nodded. "I know Albus is having a difficult time. I don't know what transpired. I won't pry. I did, however, want you to know that Albus is always welcome here." A clear, pointed cough here. "You and your family would be welcome, as well, should you have need of it."
"Oh," Ginny said. "That is…kind of you, Malfoy. Draco, that is."
Again, the man nodded, turning on his heel. Ginny watched him head for a nearby room, thoughts buzzing around her skull. Thinking clearly was a task she struggled with, but managed to call out. "Draco!" He paused. "Thank you, for hosting Albus all this time. He'll be expected back home Wednesday night for dinner, if you don't mind holding him accountable? Just in case?"
"Certainly," Draco agreed.
Albus's words continued to bounce around her head as she stepped outside. Rather than Disapparate, she walked down the sidewalk, hoping the fresh air and noisy street would clear her mind.
"Is everything alright, Harry?" Ron asked.
They were in the kitchen. Harry was pouring himself a drink, surprised to find Ron had followed him.
Out in the living room, Lily and Hugo were playing Exploding Snap while Hermione and Rose discussed a news article about St. Mungo's. Harry hadn't paid much mind to the company around him, but he had heard the name Esther Unger mentioned. Severus had not been mentioned alongside her. It didn't matter what Esther had to say about St. Mungo's affairs, not to Harry who had so much else to worry about.
All during this visit, he'd been watching Lily. Every time she leaned close to whisper something to Hugo, he wondered if his daughter was spilling the beans. He hadn't had the heart to ask any of his children to lie for him. Bad enough he, Ginny, and Severus had lied to them.
"Yeah. Sorry, mate. Just been busy," Harry laughed.
"Right," Ron said, not believing a word. That was the trouble with offering your go-to excuse to your brother-in-law slash coworker. Ron knew better than anyone how busy Harry was, professionally and personally. "You know Hermione and I are here, whatever you need." Hesitation. "And if you and Gin are struggling again…even if you won't tell me, talk to 'Mione. She's good for that."
"I know," Harry said guiltily. They were his family, once closest confidants, and even they didn't know his darkest secrets. They wouldn't understand, even without the relation to his wife. In ways, it had distanced him from his dearest friends, and bound him all the tighter to Ginny. Whatever happened between them, they were all each other had.
Hermione and Ron watched him with disappointment as he and Lily left. Hermione hugged him close and reminded him that her office was always available to him. Rose looked between the adults suspiciously, too quick for her own good. Hugo noticed nothing, waving cheerily from the window as they headed to the car.
"Ice cream, Lils?" Harry pumped as much brightness into his voice as he could muster. It had been too long since they'd had proper father-daughter time.
Lily managed a small smile. "I didn't say anything, Daddy."
Harry sighed. "Thank you."
Lily shrugged. "It's no one else's business." Bright brown eyes peered uncertainly at him. "Uncle Ron would kill you."
"Yep."
"But…couldn't you talk to Aunt Hermione?" Lily asked. "You…you don't talk to anyone?"
"I talk to your mother, as needed," Harry said uncomfortably, backing out of the driveway. Who else could he talk to? Neville knew, but it was an embarrassing subject. Bad enough he knew without Harry confiding in him any further than that. Besides, Neville had made his thoughts on Harry's activities very clear.
"That's…sad," Lily said. "Mum talks to her therapist, doesn't she? Does her therapist know?"
"Some."
Lily said nothing for a while. Harry drove in silence, still deciding whether to find a nearby ice cream parlor or not. Only when he reached out to turn on the radio did she speak again.
"Do you love Uncle Severus?"
Harry rubbed his temple. "That's not…We don't need to get into that."
"I want to know," Lily said irritably. "I deserve to know, don't I?" Harry opened his mouth to argue when Lily barked out, "Do you love him, Daddy? Do you?"
The options were weighed in his mind as he made a left turn. They definitely needed ice cream. And he needed a drink. This was not a conversation he needed to have with his daughter, of all people. There were things the children deserved to know, sure, but was this one of them? They were too young, and this was too complicated. How could he explain what he felt for Severus, when he barely grasped it himself? How could he describe the love he had for Severus versus the love he had for Ginny, both so disparate, yet both so powerful. Both his lover and wife had their ties in him, embedded so deeply, he couldn't imagine life without either of them.
That was part of the problem.
"Yes," he whispered, before he fully decided to speak.
Lily nodded as she looked fixedly out of the window. Harry hoped she wasn't crying. He couldn't take making his little girl cry.
"Why?" she asked after a few minutes, voice shaky.
"I don't know," Harry said. "Love doesn't always make sense."
"Yeah," Lily agreed. "I'm so angry with him, and I'm so angry with you. But I still love you, both of you."
Harry laughed with relief. "Be as angry as you need to be, Lily. I'm pretty mad at me, too."
"I don't want to be angry," Lily continued as Harry pulled up in front of the shop. "I just want to be happy again. I want to hug you and laugh with you. I want to visit Uncle Severus. That's the stupid part. I should hate you both."
Strange to be so glad over her inclusion of Severus. Surprising that she didn't hate the man. Harry knew the man cared for his daughter. The child that was not his, and he managed to love her anyway. It made Harry love him even more. That Lily still cared for her godfather, as well, meant more to him than he could say.
He didn't like to linger on the 'why'.
"It might be easier if you did," Harry agreed. "But I'm glad that you don't."
"Well, I'm still mad at you," Lily grumbled, but there was no heat to the words. She sat tall in her seat, resignation deep in her lovely features. She never looked more like her mother than in that moment, bearing his betrayal with sorrowful strength. All of his wife's fighting spirit faltered before him. Harry hated himself for being the one thing Ginny couldn't fight against, but equally grateful that it kept her with him. He was a selfish man, but he had learned that a long time ago. Now his daughter was doomed to her mother's fate, loving him whether he deserved it or not. One more reason to hate himself, then. "I thought better of you, Daddy."
"I know," Harry agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat. "So did I, once."
Lily frowned into her lap, eventually shooting a dirty glare to the shop, as if it were responsible for all of her woes. "I don't think I want ice cream, Daddy."
"Right. Silly of me."
"Can we just drive around for a while?"
"Sure, Lils."
No more words were said. Lily fiddled with the radio, staring out of the window once her selection was made. The loud, intense music worked its healing magic as Harry drove aimlessly.
All day, Victoire periodically checked the Potter household, reporting back when it was finally empty. Moving quickly, James Apparated home. With Victoire's help, they spelled all of his belongings into a trunk, shrinking them as they went. Victoire's spells were neat, folding prim and proper, efficiently settling themselves at the bottom of the trunk. James's spells shot shoes and knick-knacks diving haphazardly into the trunk at times clashing with Victoire's work. James could have sworn he heard his hairbrush gasp with offense when his gobstone set hurtled rudely into it.
"You must be firm," Victoire suggested, giving a little wiggling jab at a set of books. They obediently rose and waited patiently for his boots to fly by.
"I just want to be gone," James said.
His week with Teddy and Victoire had not been much better than remaining under his parents' roof. Teddy was working more hours, rarely home alone with James. James had the feeling it was intentional. For days he hoped Teddy only needed time to sort his feelings. Now he was sure Teddy was hiding from them. It killed him to watch Victoire rush into his arms when he came home, when they disappeared into their bedroom at night.
Victoire's maternal gestures were unbearable. She fixed him food. She gave him hugs. She fussed him to clean up after himself, to perfect his spells, to settle on a team once and for all. Victoire was loving, more loving than he deserved. James couldn't stand how perfect she was.
"They are your family," Victoire said. "You should leave them a note, if you won't speak to them."
"No. They'll get the message clear enough," James argued.
Yesterday he'd seen an ad for a flat not far from Teddy and Victoire's. Being Harry Potter's son came in handy now and then. The process had gone very quickly once that name was dropped. He'd signed the lease this morning. His new home was waiting for him. At last, he'd have peace. Far from the people who did nothing but break his heart.
"James, is that you?"
"Damn it," James cursed as Ginny walked into his room. Her bright face dimmed when she took in his empty room and trunk Victoire was closing.
"Aunt Ginny," Victoire said warmly, stepping forward to give her a hug. James darted for his trunk and laid his hand on it, catching only a glimpse of his mother's agonized face as he Disapparated.