Chapter 7: To Hold That Swelling Truth

Chapter Text

Over the days, Ginny counted the times she had threatened to leave. Looking back, she wondered if she'd ever meant it.

Too many times to count, before Severus Snape disrupted matters. Through the anger, through the alcoholism, she hadn't known how much she could take. Ginny had struggled with her own demons in those days. She'd fought with her own rage. Who else did they have to target, but one another?

It had been every night woken from terrors with Harry pulling her into his arms and promising she was safe that kept her coming back. It was every night woken from his screaming where she would press kisses to his sweaty brow, and listen to the scenes that plagued him. They shared too much, even before the children. How could she walk away from the only person who understood? When the nightmares seized her, no amount of her mother's coddling compared, and she longed for her Harry to rock her back to sleep.

After Snape, Ginny learned just how much she could stand. The clashing of their recovery was a simple matter. They could heal together. They were healing together, day by day. The betrayal of her husband was novel. Unprecedented. Harry was solely to blame; Ginny had every reason to leave. Staying only welcomed more heartache, the wounding of her pride; time and again she wondered, was this a testament to her strength or evidence of her weakness?

The first time was the worst time, and the only time she had a chance of leaving. Pregnant a second time, proof of an affair she had only half suspected. He had told her, voice heavy with exhaustion, listening solemnly as she raged against him.

"Here I am, raising your son, while the pair of you carry on without a care in the world!" she'd screamed. "Am I an idiot, Harry? After everything I've done, and you carry on behind my back? Why? Why, Harry, why?"

James screamed from his nursery, disturbed by the noise. Harry's eyes had flicked to the door, but he remained where he sat. "I don't know. I was drunk."

"Drunk," she scoffed. "Of course you were. When are you not?"

"That's not fair!" Harry argued. "I've been better, haven't I?"

"No, you haven't," Ginny snarled. "You've been letting that useless bastard fuck you while I sit at home taking care of your responsibilities."

Ginny had left that night, James in tow. Her parents asked their questions and she kept her silence. James had been the product of their separation. This new child was proof of his waywardness. A new child, much like the one in her arms.

Staying meant Glamours, meant putting on another show. It meant putting her career on hold for a fake pregnancy. A whole season the Harpies would play without her. And for what? So her husband could crawl back into Severus Snape's bed while she changed diapers?

What would it mean, if she left? Giving up James? Even if it didn't, how would James be affected? What of James's brother or sister, growing up motherless? What of Harry, pregnant and alone. Snape would never love Harry the way she did, could never give him what he needed. All night she stayed awake, watching James sleep. She knew she couldn't go back to Harry, could not accept what he had done. All night she imagined her beautiful world falling apart around her. She considered every consequence that would befall them, and thought Harry deserved everything coming his way.

But by morning, when he was swearing to never touch Severus Snape again, swearing he loved her more than anything, whispering that he wouldn't blame her if she did leave, Ginny was relieved. Whether she believed him or not was inconsequential; all she had wanted was a reason to go home with him.

It was as easy to love Al as it was to love James. She loved him from the moment she decided to be his mother.

Years passed, and Ginny wondered now and again just what Harry did when he was at Snape's alone. She never wondered for very long. Ginny chose to trust her husband, because it was a long time before she had to face the facts. It was one sleepless night laying beside him, breathing in another man's scent that every fear swam through her, setting her imagination running wild. Harry had slept with Snape before, had cheated on her before. Why not now?

Despite her raising his sons. Despite the fact that she had finally given him a child of her own. Lily, their one year old daughter, cried hungrily from down the hall. Ginny slipped from bed, mechanically feeding the girl, then fixing breakfast for the boys. Harry was awake by the time the children were all fed and cleaned. He followed her as she packed their belongings.

"You smell like him," Ginny said brusquely when he asked her why.

She and the children stayed with her parents for days. All the while Ginny had bidden her time. Maybe she'd drop the word "divorce" and see how he would react. Ginny wanted him to hurt, wanted to punish him. Never once did she actually consider separation. Deep down she knew she'd go home again. They shared a family and a life; they always would.

Snape would never give Harry what he needed, Ginny reminded herself. Harry would always come back to her.

Only Ginny could give Harry what he needed. But did she give him what he wanted?

The new question rang through her skull whenever she was not distracted. So Ginny busied herself in preparation for Albus's homecoming. By day she worked, and in the mornings before and the evenings after she tidied up the house and straightened his room. She also bought new items to fill James's room, so it would feel homey whenever he returned.

Wednesday night, she helped Harry cook. He was always the better at it, and she wanted dinner to be perfect. Steak and kidney pie was Al's favorite. His dessert of choice had always been banoffee pie. Ginny took a fair crack at it, letting her husband take over midway through. She was too caught up in her own head to note his own pensive mood.

Lily, too aware of them both, opted to not set the table in an act of rebellion. Neither parent noticed. Ginny took the task upon herself, and at six on the dot Albus Flooed in.

"This looks great, Mum," Albus said awkwardly. "Dad."

"Welcome home, Al," Ginny said, kissing his cheek.

"Yeah, welcome home," Lily muttered moodily, flopping down at the dinner table.

The meal was a somber affair. James was a marked absence. Lily picked at her food. Albus ducked his head over his plate, quickly shoveling food into his mouth so that he might be excused early. It was not the evening Ginny had had in mind. Somehow her daydreams had involved more laughter and hugs, breaking the ice with a warm meal, nudging Al to accepting his father again. Ginny was frustrated with herself for failing her end, then decided to blame her husband instead.

It would never be over as long as Harry loved Snape, Albus had told her.

Harry always came back to her in the end, but how much of it was his love for her, and how much of it was lack of option? If he loved Ginny, was it because of her, or what she was doing for him?

If Snape ever decided he could give Harry more than a good fuck, would Harry still be here with her?

Only when the meal was wrapping up and both children were gone did Ginny speak. The words had been sitting on her tongue for minutes now. It would not do to hash this out in front of them. Certainly not after they had been through so much.

"I think we should take a break, Harry."

Harry laughed. "I cleaned as I went, Gin. The rest won't take long."

"That's not what I meant," Ginny said, pushing her plate away.

Harry frowned. "A break from what, Gin?"

"From us," Ginny said, considering the plan she had reviewed with her counselor once upon a time. "We finish off the summer for Al's and Lil's sakes. Then you move to Grimmauld Place, and I'll stay here. Six months. We see other people, live our own lives, and in six months we see if we still want to make this marriage work."

Harry stared at her for a long time. He watched as she rose from the table and collected the dishes. He sat in his same chair as she washed them and put them away. He didn't move until she walked upstairs, following her to their bedroom.

"I haven't slipped up in almost six years now," Harry said. "I did go to see Severus the other night, but nothing happened! I swear!"

"It's not about that," Ginny said. She moved into the adjoining bathroom to brush her teeth. It hadn't hit her yet, the reality of this. She hoped that moment would wait until she was alone. "You still love him. After all these years."

"I can't help that."

"I know," Ginny said. "Maybe this will."

"How? So I can go fuck him out of my system?" Harry snapped.

"Maybe I want to fuck you out of my system," Ginny retorted. "Maybe I want him to hurt you enough to break whatever spell he's cast on you. I don't know, Harry!"

Her husband stepped up behind her, rubbing her arms. "Gin, I know this is hard, everything. But don't you think we should stick together through this?"

Tears threatened to fall. Ginny turned in his arms and shoved him. "I think I've stuck by you long enough, Harry. For too long."

The remainder of summer passed by like a breeze. Tension never fully faded from the Potter household. Albus did laugh at his father's work stories. The shadow temporarily lifted from Lily's eyes when she and Harry went flying. Ginny smiled at him when others were around. Sometimes she even did so in private. She never did cuddle up to him in bed, unless she was asleep and unaware.

The night before school began, they made love. Ginny initiated it. She wore her most revealing pink gown. She kissed his neck. She took his hand and led him to bed. Her body arched beautifully into his touch. She was soft and silky smooth beneath his hands. Harry was hopeful when he slid inside of her. He clung to her sweaty, moaning form, pouring all that he had into her.

When she kissed him, though, at the end, it tasted like goodbye.

That kiss weighed heavily on Harry as they brought the children to King's Cross. Ginny laughed brightly, arm twined naturally with Harry's. Worry melted from Ron and Hermione's faces to watch them. Harry grinned through the pain, keeping up the act. It was a role both were well versed to. Never had the mask been so hard to wear. Always he'd had Ginny. She was his rock, his partner in crime. However she felt about him, they worked in tandem, so connected by their treachery.

Today, she'd never felt farther away.

Lily hugged her mother, then him, parting with a smacking kiss on his cheek. Harry laughed, fondly watching her red hair trail behind her as she ran to board the train. Lily was glad, truly, to be heading back to school. Albus mimicked his sister's normalcy. He hugged his mother, let his father pat his back, offering fake smiles as he promised to write soon. His departure settled matters for Ron and Hermione. To them, the danger had passed. Only Harry sensed that coldness beneath. Like them all, Albus had taken to lying perfectly.

"Dinner, all four of us this Saturday?" Hermione suggested.

"We'll get back with you," Ginny explained. "Harry and I have plans, you see?"

"Of course!" Ron agreed, clapping Harry on the back. "Owl us with a good time, then, yeah?"

"Sure," Harry agreed warmly. They would not be making that dinner date. Harry wondered how long Ginny would keep the charade up. They couldn't hide a six month break from the entire family, could they? Would they meet as a unit occasionally to keep up appearances? Would that defeat the purpose of a break? Harry wouldn't mind. He wasn't on board with this break at all.

At home, Ginny ran to Lily's room, locking the door behind her. They were carrying on with it, then? In a state of disbelief, Harry raised his wand, directing his belongings into a large trunk. Clothes, books, mementos. His broom followed last, settled neatly on top. Only Ginny's clothes hung in their closet, folded in drawers. Only Ginny's toiletries cluttered the bathroom counter. Only Ginny's shampoo in the shower. Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat.

They'd chosen this house together before they married. He had only left once in that time, during the separation early in their marriage. The separation during which he first discovered his attraction to Severus. If he had not been relegated to Grimmauld Place, had he not sought comfort in his friend, had he not been so devastated by the idea of divorce, would any of this have happened? Would he instead be truly happy and content with his wife and their children?

Silly question. James would not be James, Albus would not be Albus. Even Lily would not be Lily. What ifs were one thing, but Harry didn't have it in him to regret his children, regardless of cost.

Harry took his time on his last sweep through the house. The contents of his office were emptied completely. His favorite boots were nearly forgotten in the shed. His favorite cookbooks he took with him, as well as the box of his favorite biscuits. His trunk floated behind him as he circled back to the living room. A glance upwards, where Lily's room was overhead, where Ginny sat now. Was she crying? Was she regretting her choice? Was she cursing his name, begging him to hurry and leave? He wanted to go to her, hold her, kiss her, plead with her. She was more than his wife, more than a lover. She was his partner through hell and back. He didn't know who he was without her anymore.

He was not to say goodbye, though. There was only one thing left to do before leaving. Sliding off his wedding band, he dropped it onto the clutter tray on the coffee table, as instructed.

"Bye, Gin," he whispered and Disapparated.

Kreacher was dead some nine years now, and Grimmauld Place was lonelier than ever. The house was too big, too empty. Every breath in was a reminder of loss. Losing Sirius. Losing his parents. Losing Dobby, and then Kreacher. Losing Remus and Tonks. All of the people who once stood within these walls, the people who cared for him and who he cared for.

Losing Ginny, now. Losing his children. Losing Severus.

Harry went straight to Sirius's old bedroom and set his trunk to unpacking itself. Clothes and books zoomed through the air as he leaned against the window, looking down into the street. London wasn't Godric's Hollow. The Muggles below were in too much of a hurry. Even if they paused to look, they wouldn't see number 12. They wouldn't see Harry.

No one would see Harry here. No one would know he was here. No one knew what was happening because he'd let pretense control his life. Now he saw no escape from the lies he'd wound around himself. He couldn't talk to Ron or Hermione, or even Ginny. Neville and Hannah, maybe, if he wasn't too ashamed to face them.

Harry couldn't complain. He'd done this to himself.

They would spend six months apart, reuniting only for Christmas to be with the children. Otherwise, no contact. Free to date and shag whoever they pleased. Let her fuck half the town, if she needed, as long as she came back to him.

Was Severus fucking Esther now, he wondered?

Was Ginny already trying to move on?

No. Ginny always came back to him. They had separated before. Maybe she was punishing him. Maybe he deserved to hurt and worry the way she had hurt and worried for so long. Maybe she really did want him to get Severus out of his system.

He was free. No strings. No consequences. For all intents and purposes, he was a free man. Free to date and kiss and fuck anyone, though his mind only went to one person. Free to pay Severus a visit on his own. Free to share a glass of wine, cook him dinner, free to reach out and touch him without shame. The possibilities were endless. Even at his most reckless he had never indulged with Severus as he wanted.

Desire and sorrow danced within him. Conflicted, so conflicted. Items dropped to the floor as he loosed the spell. Would he really be able to get Severus out of his system? Or would indulgence only make it harder on them both? Would Ginny really come back to him? Or was she trying to move on?

He could unpack tomorrow. For now, he needed to go to work. If he didn't work, he was going to drink, and Harry did not trust his self control in a bar right now.

On the Hogwarts Express, Albus shared a compartment with Lily, Scorpius, Mabel, and her brother Eugene. Lily adored Mabel, giddily talking her ear off about inane topics. It galled Albus how unconcerned Lily seemed, after all they had been through that summer. Mabel grinned and cajoled, her presence like sunlight, drawing forth every ounce of hope and happiness in his sister.

Albus shied away from her light, tucked in by the window beside Scorpius. For a time Scorpius fended off Eugene's questions to Al, letting Al have his quietude. Peace was not the right word. Time had eased the wounds. It had not healed them.

Somehow Mabel's presence only made it worse. That was a new experience. Never had his girlfriend pulled all of the negative to his surface. The swamp of despair, distrust, anger, and shame sludged through his veins. The hate in his heart roared to life in the face of her love.

Mabel was sweet, offering all of her attention to his sister. That was her way, to give all of herself to whoever she gave her time to. When you talked to Mabel, you were her entire world for that time. During that period, she didn't see the shadow looming over him. Once she did, Mabel lifted her foot to kick gently at his knee. Alarm crossed Lily's face, and she dragged Mabel into a new conversation, scraping the bottom of the barrel for any topic uncovered. Mabel frequently looked to Albus. The question was on her lips, but she took the hint and left well enough alone, for now. The promise of soon went unspoken.

Soon she would be poking and prodding, urging him to spill his guts. Spill he might, now that he had broken that dam. He no longer had faith in his ability to hold back, now that the truth had broken free of him. Albus wanted to hold back, yet he didn't. He wanted to shout it from the tops of the towers, shedding light on the whole debacle. He did not want anyone to know, least of all her. The family secret was no longer a source of pleasure, but of deep regret. Of humiliation. The secret was not mysterious, it wasn't unique, it wasn't fun. It corroded, it festered, it poisoned.

Being near Mabel made his skin crawl. Knees clamped tightly around his clammy hands as he started fixedly out at the passing scenery. He did not want to be near her, he realized with surprise. He couldn't say why. Nothing had changed in her. Her laugh was as high and loud as ever. Her gums still showed bright pink whenever she grinned. Her arms and legs still shifted restlessly as she sat in one place for longer than a few minutes. In every way, she was perfect. Albus sat witness to her generosity of spirit as she entertained Lily, and it made him care for her all the more. And that itself terrified him.

Mabel, source of goodness, offered him now only dread.

When Ginny emerged from Lily's room, it was to an empty house. It was not as if she'd never stood here alone. How many nights had she spent curled up on the couch with a book, children at school, Harry working late? During very serious cases, she might not see her husband but for brief moments when he came home to crash in bed.

This was a different sort of emptiness. The presence of her family did not linger. There was no sense of impending return. Harry was gone. Not only in body, but in spirit. A twinge of relief mingled with her sorrow. All summer she'd hardened herself, preparing for this moment. Was it relief to have fulfilled this long overdue decision, or relief to have him away from her?

Last night, making love, it felt like closure. Harry couldn't be close enough to her, then. For the first time in months she let herself love him, basking in the glow of it. It made the parting easier, to have that bittersweet time to look back on.

Change loomed on the horizon. A new life, a new Ginny. Hope rose to the surface as she drifted down the stair, hand grazing along the banister. In the past months she spared only enough consideration for this day, with no plans for what she would do with her newfound freedom. No children for the next few months, no husband. For the first time in many years, Ginny could devote time and energy to herself, and only herself.

When he came back, she thought to herself, she would be stronger. They would be happier. During these six months she would gain wisdom, a sense of independence she had lost along the way, maybe adventurous stories she and Harry could laugh over when he was home again.

He's not coming home, the house seemed to breathe. Ginny shrugged the away the heaviness of the air. The flare of enthusiasm was what she clung to for strength as she walked into the living room. The high of it flew from her when she saw the glint of his ring sitting where she'd demanded. Ginny's fingers grasped her own band, twisting the ring around her finger.

This was good, she reminded herself as she pulled the ring off, dropping it beside Harry's. The shackles were gone. True freedom, now. She smiled even as tears trailed down her cheeks. Excitement twisted itself through her distress. Nervous energy vibrated through her. Ginny walked away from the rings, out the back door, unsure what she was doing, only that she had to do something.

Maybe she'd fly. Or garden, even. She could expand what they had here. Harry would come home to a nice new garden. It would fill her time in a productive manner. In the shed she passed her broom, grabbing the trowel. Gripping it like a weapon, she marched out into the garden, trying to hold unwelcome memories at bay.

It was with trowel in hand, she recalled, the only time she confronted Snape. It had never been intended as a weapon, really, but Snape had quirked his brow in a superior manner.

"Surely you know appropriate curses for the occasion," Snape snarked. "Or does your Muggle-loving father teach all of his children to brawl with Muggle implements?"

Ginny dropped it to the floor, quivering with useless rage. "You've been expecting me, then?"

"Not entirely," Snape replied. "Would you mind setting that outside?" His hands resumed the chopping of a tomato, back turning to her. Ginny wanted to kick it across the floor childishly, but reigned in the instinct. Instead she left it right where it was, breathing composure into her stiff body."I had assumed you would turn a blind eye, as you are wont to do. At least in regards to Harry."

Never had Ginny heard Snape refer to her husband by his first name. Gooseflesh erupted across her arms. Too intimate for him to say it, least of all with the purr in those two syllables.

"Is it a potion, then, or an enchantment?" Ginny demanded, face burning. Magical coercion was the only excuse she could think of for her husband's behavior. Nothing else made sense, it never had. A one off might be excusable, but as an ongoing arrangement there had to be more to the story. Harry could not be truly in lust with this atrocious, hideous wizard. Certainly not when he had Ginny. And if Harry were bisexual, there were better male offers out there than Severus Snape.

"I assure you, I did not lure your husband into my bed by underhanded means," Snape said, still expertly dicing his fruit. "In fact, more often than not, I am not the one luring."

Before she knew what she was doing, Ginny pulled her wand free from her robes. Snape's knife began cutting into a block of mozzarella on its own. His pale hand was bright against black robes, right where his own wand must reside.

"Do you intend to duel for your husband?" Snape inquired, amusement ringing clear. Ginny reluctantly lowered her wand. "I have no desire to fight for him, Mrs. Potter."

"Then keep your filthy hands off of him," Ginny snapped.

"They're only filthy after I'm done with him."

Sparks flew from the end of her wand, so Ginny stowed it away before she could be tempted further. A dozen and more jinxes flashed to mind. Would any of them make a difference? It had been wrong to come here, she knew. It had not been her plan. None of this had been thought out at all. She had been hiding in the shed, overcome by emotions she could not process, and found herself Apparating into Snape's home with a gardening tool still clutched in her hand.

"He says he's done with you," Ginny said as calmly as she could.

"Ah, but he's said that before, has he not?"

"Maybe. But I'm not going anywhere. And neither is he. It's me he comes home to. Every time."

"If only you could keep him there."

The words cut deep. Ginny summoned her trowel back to her hand. "I don't know what hold you have over him, Snape, but it's not enough. Maybe he strays, but it's me he returns to in the end. You might have him for a while, but you'll never keep him."

"There is only one thing I want from him, and that I get," Snape snarled. Ginny could almost think he was lying. If she thought him capable of real human emotion, she might think he actually cared for her husband. "I send him back into your safekeeping once I've used him for all he's worth."

"Your loss, then, to not see he's worth more than that."

"Does he tell you what he wants, Ginevra? What he really wants?" Snape advanced on her, was breathing into her face, eyes alight with malice. "Does he tell you what he begs me for? Have you the faintest clue what I do to him?" Snape sneered. "It must gall that you can't give the boy what he needs."

Ginny smiled, then, knowingly. Snape faltered here, studying the quirk of her mouth, the glow of knowledge brightening her face. However confused and disgusted she may be by this aberration, Ginny knew her husband. She knew him better than anyone. Certainly better than this selfish, lonely monster.

"You don't know what Harry needs," Ginny assured him. She could have carried on, listed the ways he would never know her Harry. Snape was thrown off by her words now. Ginny liked to fight dirty, but she liked winning even more. Waving cheerily with her free hand, she Disapparated.

That night she hummed merrily while fixing dinner. She greeted Harry with a kiss when he came home. She was in high spirits as she tucked in the children, and lascivious when alone with her husband at last. For that night, he was hers, in every way.

Such a shame it hadn't lasted.

It was that same confrontation Severus considered as Hermione prattled over tea. She spoke for a time about how things appeared so much better between Harry and Ginny. Severus bitterly held his tongue, carefully sipping his tea.

Hermione always pressed for any insight he had into the Potter marriage, especially of late. Trouble in paradise? It was no wonder. Still, Severus refused to gossip, at least about the Potters. Hermione had been frustrated, pleading with him to help them through matters. If the Potters wouldn't talk to the Weasleys, perhaps they would confide in a Snape. Not bloody likely. But what would Minister Granger know about that? Clearly she didn't have the first inkling as to what was causing the tension between the couple.

Not that it mattered now, at least not to Hermione. Severus was not fooled. Harry and Ginny had mastered their public faces. Only Severus ever saw through them.

It would not be unlike Ginevra to forgive her husband all of his sins. It was Severus she blamed for the whole affair. Rarely was Harry the target of her fury. Bearing that in mind, she had only really confronted him the once. She reminded him then that Harry would always return to her. Severus in turn reminded her, as he liked to do, that her husband would never stop throwing himself at him. It galled, for a time, that she seemingly won.

What Ginny may not know were every furtive kiss Harry stole over the years. What she may not know was how recently Harry had clung to him, rubbing his eager manhood against Severus. Somehow Severus doubted Harry had told her. Severus also knew Harry would excuse the whole incident as a lapse in judgment, consoled that they had not moved beyond a bit of rubbing. No orgasms, no promises broken.

Severus didn't see it that way. He doubted Ginevra would, either.

"You still won't tell me what it was all about, then, Severus?" Hermione asked.

"Not likely, no."

Hermione smiled. "You're a good friend to them, Severus, even if I could strangle you for it sometimes."

"Ah, yes. The inevitable threats upon my life. I thought better of the Minister of Magic."

"Oh fa," Hermione scoffed. "Hardly a threat. More of a fantasy."

Such a shame she was married, and likely less likely to disregard those vows than her friend. For Severus could indeed fantasize about her. In fact, he might bring this up to Harry, if he ever saw him again. The brat's jealousy might be fun to play with.

Any fantasies he might entertain with regards to Hermione's curvy body soon fell into fantasies about telling Harry every filthy thing he would like to do to Minister Granger. Fantasies about how Harry, in his envy, would try to chase every woman from Severus's memory. With tongue and teeth and hands.

"Just to be certain, I may save this memory for a pensieve," Severus warned.

Hermione only chuckled, nibbling on a biscuit. "I really shouldn't make such crude jokes in my position. However, I'm not sure you can have a friend if insults and threats aren't exchanged."

"Ah. And you are under the impression we are friends, Minister?" Severus asked.

"Hermione," she corrected promptly. "And yes, even if you are an arse about it."

Severus harrumphed as he selected his own biscuit.

"You've been in our lives a long time, Severus. As friend, as honorary family," Hermione explained. "You don't have to pretend you don't care. We won't think any less of you."

Strange, how his supposed friendship to Harry had brought him a slew of other so-called friends and self-proclaimed family. Severus did not claim any of them, though he now wondered at his semi-frequent visits with the Longbottoms and with Hermione Granger. There were people in his life besides Harry who checked in on him, reached out to him, desired any contact with him.

Did he care about them? He certainly cared about Harry, much more than he liked to admit. Difficult to deny even to himself, how deeply he was in love with the little slut. What did that mean for the strays that followed Harry along? Attachment born out of pity or obligation or both, but it existed surely.

No, it didn't bear thinking about.

"Please, Minister, no sentiments over tea."