Chapter Text
1 May 2005
Dear Hadrian,
I’m enclosing press clippings from the big event that describes it in much more detail than I have the heart to do. Having lived through the travesty once, I can’t be arsed to live through it again. Not for you. Especially not for you.
Suffice it to say that the wedding was all one might expect. It was a small affair – not counting the throngs of press, the swarms of ingratiating politicians, the better part of the MLE and the entire Harpies team, plus reserves, and not least, the Weasley clan and extended relations. There was a bit of noise, and not a little disappointment over Ginny’s and my decision to forego a magically binding ceremony. Molly wasn’t happy. For my part, I let Ginny defend the decision, saying that if I was around in twenty years, she would prefer to know it was out of choice, and not because I was magically obliged to be there.
In some ways, knowing I can escape if I want to makes the whole thing more difficult to live with. The funny thing is that Ginny and I came to the decision without much by way of discussion. I think her heart isn’t in this any more than mine is. But we both stood up there and promised to be there for each other to the end of our days, and at least that’s a vow I think I can keep.
She’s really beginning to show now and says that she can feel the baby moving inside her. I humour her and touch her belly and try and summon a bit of the excitement she feels at the slightest bubble of movement. But I confess to you that I’ve felt nothing. Nothing at all.
I will get through this, but I feel as though I’ve been robbed of something important. This whole experience shouldn’t be something I have to get through. It should be something I can feel enthusiastic about. Bill and Fleur go on at length about the whole pregnancy and child-rearing experience, and all I can feel is a detached curiosity and a vague resentment at having had my own chance at life stolen away by this little unborn being, greedily gobbling up my future one day at a time.
I hate what that says about me. You are surely not surprised that I’m a selfish twat, but it comes as a revelation to me.
On the outside, I am Harry Potter, husband of Ginny Potter, née Weasley, Boy Who Lived turned Man Who Continues to Live against all odds. And I can be all that on the outside only because privately, to you alone, I can lay the truth bare. You’ve always seen the worst of me, and so my honesty is not likely to alienate you.
I hope everything is well with you and the Coven. I hope my unanticipated visit did not cause any lasting damage to your quiet life. I enjoyed my last day with you and will use its memory to get me through the next twenty years or so.
All is well.
Yours,
Harry
15 June 2005
Dear Harry,
I should start by congratulating you on getting through one of those rites of passage that I have managed to successfully avoid. Given my proclivities and particularly given the country in which I have chosen to take up residence, I feel confident that I will never have to endure such theatrics. I am pleased to learn that you have kept the contract strictly legal, as it offers you that all-important trap door should the commitment become too much to bear. While I regret that the decision was forced upon you by circumstance, I think you are lucky to have found someone so practically minded, with whom to begin the project of parenthood. I wish you well with at least as much sincerity as I wish things were different.
For my part, the imminent arrival of summer is keeping me very busy. My garden is flourishing and as it grows warmer, people inevitably get it into their heads to perform sport they are too old, unfit, or too Muggle to accomplish, so my patient rosters are rapidly filling up.
I was able to turn your brief visit and the consequential involvement of the Coven to my advantage. I told the truth, in short. The Coven were satisfyingly scandalised to learn of your impending marriage. Out of sensitivity to my presumed heartbreak, I have earned a reprieve from the constant onslaught of match-making attempts. I assure you I have done nothing to demonise you, but the hearts of women tend toward the spurned and frankly, it suits me to let them continue to judge me the victim.
I have come to realise that what happened was for the best. The path we were on was destined to end in disaster. I think, in time, you will realise that as well. Twists of Fate, while often initially painful, invariably turn out for the best.
Severus re-read the last paragraph and snorted to himself. As though writing it would make it true. It was the truth as he wanted to see it, as he hoped he could eventually see it. Harry would be as irritated to read it as he was to write it, but when it came down to it, acceptance was the only choice left. At least, Severus thought, he could pretend toward dignity.
I wish you and the missus all the best for the birth of the next generation of insufferable Gryffindors. I feel certain that your gloomy perspective will shift when confronted with the miracle of life. As trite as it is, I’m assured it’s true.
Thankfully, I shall never be thus shifted.
All is well, Harry.
Yours,
S.
Severus read through, realising that the carefully distant tone of his letter was belied by its closing. He didn’t care. Part of him needed the other man to know that he was not unaffected. All would be well, eventually. He believed that everything that happened was probably for the best. His heart had yet to catch onto that belief, but his heart and his logic were very rarely in agreement on such matters. He hoped that in giving logic its voice, the heart would eventually be persuaded.
The response to his letter came eleven days later. It said:
All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well. All is well.
The writing began neatly and finished in a desperate mess. Severus let the parchment fall to his desk and covered his face with his hands. The words played on a loop in his head like a chant. An incantation. His heart lurched with a ridiculous yearning that he hadn’t yet managed to reason away. All was for the best, he told it. All is well, it screamed back.
It would be some time before he heard anything more, but he couldn’t bring himself to pen a response. Every time he tried, his hand moved to write those ridiculous words that he now sorely regretted speaking. Over time the yearning faded to an elusive feeling that he was forgetting something important. The ache calmed to indigestion. His work filled his days and a good portion of his nights, and sleep came without the plague of dreams for something impossible. As summer transitioned to autumn, Severus began once more to frequent his social circle and to involve himself in the life he’d built. While it would never again be untainted by the knowledge that it was not quite whole, it was sufficient, and Severus stopped staring at the absence. When at last word came, Severus unfolded the letter with his pragmatism well intact.
10 September 2005
It’s a boy. He was born August 12th. 8 lbs, 13 oz, 19 ½ in. I’d tell you his name, but I don’t want to give you another excuse to hate him.
He’s perfect, and you were right (as usual). Perspectives shift. And while all is still well, I can’t bring myself to actively wish for a life without my son. I have a choice, you told me. I can accept the way things are, or I can’t. I suppose I’ve chosen to accept my Fate. There doesn’t seem to be much point in struggling against it. I think I will always wish I could have had more time with you, but maybe things turned out for the best. I’d have only screwed up your life. And mine too, I suppose.
I’m happy you’re still there, and I still insist that I need you to be there. While I’ve accepted the new mission I’ve been given, part of me will always be
Yours,
Harry
***
“Harry?”
Harry gave a low desperate moan as the whisper called him away from the precipice of precious sleep.
“You awake?”
“No,” he mumbled. At the feel of a soft hand slipping down the front of his pyjamas he gave another plaintive moan. “So tired, Gin.”
“I can help you wake up,” she whispered into his ear before scraping her teeth over it. A cold hand wrapped around his dormant cock. Harry made another sleepy attempt at protest.
“Come on, Potter. It’s only ten o’clock,” she said, urging him onto his back. It was only ten o’clock. Which gave him approximately three hours of uninterrupted sleep before James woke again for his nightly screaming fit that not even the dead could sleep through.
“I have to work,” Harry pointed out.
“And I sit on my arse all day?” she responded sharply, her hand giving him an encouraging squeeze. “It’s been months,” she said firmly before leaning into kiss him.
Harry pried one eye open to look at the woman. Her lips curled into a slight pout. “Your wife has needs, Harry.” She grinned at him.
He managed to smile back, although his discomfort sat heavily on his chest. He could objectively see that his wife remained an attractive woman. Her figure had grown softer and rounder since having a child, but she remained slim. Her swollen breasts had grown to magnificent proportions. Her hair was thick and fiery, her skin like cream. She was beautiful.
But Harry had seen things no man should have to see. It had scarred him. Deeply. Her breasts, once a fascination for him, had become little more than food sacks. Her body, a vessel for human life. It was all very daunting.
Ginny kissed down his chest before disappearing beneath the blankets, mouth moving expertly over his skin. It should have been exciting. She knew his body. She knew which buttons to push. But the buttons appeared to be broken. That tongue over his navel was too wet. The fingernails raking down his sides were too sharp.
He was ridiculous, he knew. Other men manage to still desire their wives after childbirth. Other men managed to forget the sight of a human head covered in blood and gunk pop out from between their wives legs. Harry felt a shudder wrack his body at the memory. Ginny moaned, interpreting it as pleasure.
Resigned to duty, Harry compliantly lifted his hips as insistent fingers tugged at his pyjamas. He felt himself get sucked into a warm wet mouth. That felt nice, at least. He closed his eyes. It might be anyone under that blanket, coaxing his desire to life. He cast his mind back to the first night with Severus. The night he was someone else. Someone without attachments, without inhibitions. And it felt more pleasant. Harry let out a moan, fingers weaving into straight black hair, hips thrusting up between those lips that were softer than he would ever have imagined.
The mouth disappeared from below to come up and kiss him urgently. A too soft, too round body pressed against him. Harry rolled over, forcing her to lie on her belly, before taking his place between her thighs. Ginny raised her hips and Harry took aim. “Ack!” Ginny exclaimed, before reaching down to correct that aim, bringing him into her.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and cleared his mind, not thinking about anything but the friction over his cock. His rhythm grew as steady as his breathing. The memory of his last night with Severus came unbidden, but this was all wrong. Too wet. Too soft. Harry let the memory go. He felt Ginny’s hand reach between her legs, her breath came in high whines as she slammed her hips back to meet Harry’s inward thrusts. There was no uniting of hearts and souls here. This was maintenance.
Harry angled his thrusting downward to do what he could to help her along, to help himself along as his desire for release began to build. He forgot his aversion, his fatigue and let his body be driven by base instinct. Distantly he heard the strangled groan that was his cue to unleash his own restraint. He fell forward as he came, holding her tightly to him.
“Fuck, I needed that,” she sighed, and then laughed quietly into her pillow.
Harry gave a non-committal grunt and rolled off her. He cast a cleaning charm and stared at the ceiling waiting for his breathing to return to normal.
“We should go to Brum,” she said, rolling over to drape herself along Harry’s side. “We’ll get mum to sit for James.”
Despite himself, his interest was piqued. There was a certain club in Birmingham that occasionally opened for people with diversely deviant tastes. They’d not been in ages. Since before Ginny was pregnant. Before Severus. Before sex became complicated.
“All right,” he agreed.
“I’ll have to do some shopping. I think I’m too fat to fit into the cat suit.” Harry could feel her grin against his shoulder.
“Don’t be stupid. You’re beautiful,” he reassured her automatically.
“Shh. Don’t ruin a perfectly good excuse to go shopping,” she reproached him, pinching his nipple playfully. “Maybe we can find you some fit bloke to satisfy your gay side,” she teased.
Harry snorted. “I distinctly remember ruling out threesomes, Gin. We’ll go to Brum if you want, but it’s just the two of us.”
Ginny raised herself up to her elbow. She twisted her mouth thoughtfully. “Would you want to go it alone?” she asked cautiously.
Harry frowned at her and then closed his eyes. “Don’t be daft. It was a one-off. I told you that.” The last time, Harry reasoned, was really just an extension of the first. The closure. It wasn’t quite a lie.
“You say that, but... Harry, you’ve been out of sorts since you came back after New Year. You and I both know that if I hadn’t got pregnant, we wouldn’t be here now.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips. “You did the noble thing. You always do. And we’re a family now, but I don’t want to be your noble cause forever.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Harry groaned. “You’re not my noble cause, Ginny. And we’ve been better, right? We don’t fight anymore.”
“Because you’ve resigned yourself to this. You put up a good front, but... Harry, I know you. You can’t tell me you’re happy.” Her eyes sought his.
Harry's eyes closed. “I’m fine,” he insisted irritably. “I’m tired,” he amended. Bone tired and weary. He’d never understand why she always chose bedtime to engage him in these sorts of discussions.
“We used to fight,” Ginny said, head returning to Harry’s shoulder. “But at least it was honest. We were honest with each other.”
“I don’t lie to you,” Harry said indignantly.
“No. You mislead with the truth. You’re a master at it.”
Harry couldn’t respond to that. It was rather spot on. He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hand.
“We make a good family, Harry. We’re fantastic the three of us together. But you and I are not a couple anymore. I have no idea what’s going on with you. You don’t seem to care what’s going on with me outside of James and we can’t go on like that. I can’t live like that.” Her voice was steady and unemotional. Harry realised that what he was hearing was carefully composed and had been in waiting for months. She was right. About all of it.
What could he do? Moan to her that he was doing what he could to get over someone he never really had to begin with? Tell her that whenever he looked at her, whenever she touched him, he couldn’t help but see all that she wasn’t? All that she could never possibly be? What good could come of that?
No good at all.
Instead he said, “I’m sorry. If I’ve been distant and if you have the impression that I don’t care. It’s been a crazy year, Gin. A lot of life-changing things and I’m dealing as well as I can. I’ll try harder.”
She moved her hand over to thread her fingers through his. “Okay,” she said quietly. “How about we start like this. I’ll ask you a question and you’ll answer honestly. No twisting the truth to suit your purposes.”
Harry opened his eyes to cast a doubtful look at her. “Sounds dangerous,” he said with a sideways grin. “I’ll agree, but I have the option to refuse to answer.”
Ginny gave him a defiant smile. “Refusing to answer is an answer in itself.”
“Ask then,” Harry said warily.
“Are you attracted to blokes?”
Harry pursed his lips and met her candid gaze. “No,” he said. “Not exactly. But I’m not attracted to women either. I’m attracted to you. I was attracted to the bloke in Switzerland. But it’s not gender specific.” Harry smiled up at her. “What about you?”
She grinned. “Of course I’m attracted to blokes,” she laughed. Harry narrowed his eyes and she laughed. “I’m attracted to women, too.”
Harry nodded. “Do you miss it?”
Ginny shook her head. “I haven’t yet,” she said. “But I suspect I will eventually. You?”
Harry paused before answering. Habitually, he prepared a suitably honest response to the question. He missed Severus. Did he miss sex with him? Could you actually miss something you never had regularly? “Yeah,” he admitted finally. He offered an apologetic smile. “It doesn’t mean I want to go out and find it, Ginny. I just don’t work that way.”
“I know,” she said, stroking his chest. “I’m glad you admitted it. Now we can work out a way forward.”
“Ginny,” Harry said, exasperated.
“Polyjuice,” she whispered. “Seriously.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re breastfeeding.”
“Only a few months longer,” she insisted. She lifted her head to kiss him on the mouth. Her mouth stretched into a wicked grin. It was a grin he’d come to know well over the course of the years. One which used to liquefy his insides with the promise of sexual adventure it contained. The promise of pleasure... or pain, or well... Kink, in a word. “But you’re not breastfeeding,” she whispered. “We can bring out your inner lesbian.”
Harry laughed. “You’re determined to emasculate me,” he accused her jokingly.
“No,” she smiled. “Just mix things up a bit.” She settled back to the pillow beside his head and draped her arm across his chest. “We can make this work, Harry. But only if we’re honest with each other and with ourselves.”
Harry turned his head to face her. He pushed her hair away from her face and was suddenly overcome with affection for this remarkable woman. He was lucky to have her. “I love you, you know,” he said, reaffirming it to himself as well. It was true. Despite everything, she remained the only woman in the world for him.
“Well, then. We have a chance,” she said and then kissed him.
-o-o-
13 December 2005
Dear Hadrian,
It’s not supposed to be possible, but well, she is a Weasley. Ginny’s pregnant again. This time, I think she took the news harder than I did. For my part, one more kid will change nothing much, and it makes sense to me to have them all now and get it out the way. Ginny, however, had made elaborate plans involving Polyjuice potion and what she calls my Gay Side. She’s quite disappointed to have to put the experience off another year or so.
My Gay Side, as it were, is a little relieved.
Things have been good. Ginny and I have reached an agreement of sorts and I think I have finally managed to get over the fact that for all my wishing things were different, this is my life. When I started to examine my life, I realised how much of it I was taking for granted. It’s almost as though I was dissatisfied out of habit. There was no real source for my irritation, apart from my feeling that I wanted something different. Once I realised this, I was able to stop. I was able to reconnect to Ginny, and the rest sort of fell into place.
I still think about you often. There are moments when I think I might burst from wanting to see you and to be with you. But the moments pass, and my life goes on.
I hope everything is well with you. It’s been ages since I’ve heard any news and while I can’t threaten you with showing up on your doorstep anymore, I hope you will keep in touch. I want you in my life, if only from a distance.
My Gay Side still belongs to you.
Love (unapologetically),
Harry
Wishing you all the best this holiday season!
Hey. I haven't heard anything from you. I have another son, by the way. He's got my eyes. Ginny's pregnant again. She's due in September. Hopefully it's a girl this time, so we can stop. I miss sleeping.
Anyway, Happy Christmas. I'll be thinking of you at midnight on New Year's Eve.
Harry
December 2006
**
CONGRATULATIONS!
Harry, congratulations on the new addition and the up and coming new addition. Everything is fine here. I'll try and write something more substantial soon.
S.
January 15, 2007
**
02 May 2008
Severus,
Yesterday was the ten-year anniversary of the first day of the rest of your life. I wonder if you remembered. I can't imagine you'd forget. Luckily for you, you were spared the celebrations. I had been invited to two dozen, but only went to two. There was an unveiling of the memorial statue in the Atrium of the Ministry. I've enclosed the photo for your amusement. I have to say, I feel lucky that my office is outside the Ministry because I'm not sure I could stand to walk past that every day. I think the sculptor was particularly kind to you. But while noble self-sacrifice is a good look for you, I think I prefer your sneering condescension. The white robes are a bit much, too. I'm sure I've never seen you in white. Dumbledore is the only one among us who was done well. I won't even comment on what they did with me.
After the unveiling, we had a small private memorial at the Burrow. We drank to Fred. To Remus and Tonks. To Mad-Eye. And to you. We drank and drank and then passed out from all the remembering. I have to admit to finding it difficult to sit there listening to the discussions about you, the rounds of 'Poor, Severus,' and not reassure them all that you are fine. That you got what you wanted.
It would be nice to hear from you, Severus. I don't know if you're deliberately avoiding me, or you just can't be arsed, but try and make an effort. I miss hearing from you.
Harry
-o-o-
The holiday season had always exhausted him, and this year was no different. Finding himself alone running the shop, this holiday season had been particularly gruelling. 2008 had proven to be a rough year economically and cuts had needed to be made. Severus lost Theda in September, when his young assistant had left him to help her mother, who had been forced to let her own part-time help go.
Severus welcomed the end to another day and sat sorting out his till when the sound of the bell reminded him that he’d forgotten to lock the door. He looked accusingly at the newest browsing customer. He might tell the man to sod off, but business wasn’t exactly booming these days, and men generally proved to be uncomplicated customers. Most of them were desperate to find a Christmas gift for some woman in their life, be it mother, sister, girlfriend or wife. They were easily persuaded to buy a gift set of essential oils or herbal teas.
The man smiled at him as Severus made eye contact. The corners of his eyes crinkled.
“Can I help you?” Severus said, pleased with himself at having been able to extract the sneering exhaustion from his voice.
“You must be Hadrian Prince?” the man said, forming a question of the statement. It was a rather annoying habit of Americans.
A referral, then, Severus thought, reaching for his appointment book. “I must be,” he answered with a forced smile. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I’m David,” the man said, extending a hand, which Severus shook after a moment. “My sister, Susan, told me I should stop by.”
Severus tilted his head to the side as the pieces clicked into place. He studied the man’s features – the thin nose, the non-descript hazel eyes and the light brown hair. A thin spattering of freckles peppered the man’s nose, giving him a somewhat boyish appearance that was belied by the light wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.
“Ah. This would be Susan 'you really must meet my brother' Jeffers, then, is it?” Severus gave the man’s hand a squeeze before releasing it.
David laughed lightly and looked at his trainers. “Here’s hoping she’s pimped me as vigorously as she has you,” the man said sheepishly.
“She was a bit relentless,” Severus said fondly. “But as she’s been saying this for the better part of two years, I had begun to doubt you existed.” It wasn’t true, of course. He knew the man was a travel writer. He had read the book he’d written on India. After having read it, and enjoyed it, Severus had been looking forward to meeting the man behind the wit. “I hadn’t expected you until the New Year,” he said.
David’s eyes widened as though surprised that anyone would expect him at all. “Susi convinced me to come home with her for Christmas, so I came back a bit earlier than expected.” His tone was impassive, telling nothing of the discomfort Severus suspected the man felt at the prospect of seeing parents, to whom he hadn’t spoken in over ten years. Parents who were less than forgiving of their son for having dared to turn out gay.
Severus suddenly felt ill-at-ease about the amount of knowledge he had about the man, so he settled on a diplomatic and fully insincere, “How nice for you. You were in Africa weren’t you?”
David smiled. “I feel a bit at a disadvantage. I know next to nothing about you,” he said.
Severus shrugged. “There isn’t much to know,” he said quietly. “I’m not a famous writer.”
The man looked at him as though to determine whether or not Severus was taking the piss. He settled on rolling his eyes. “Travel writers are only famous among other travel writers. Occasionally one breaks out into the mainstream, but it’s rare. Who wants to read about a country they’ll never visit?”
“I read your book on India,” he confessed. “It was very entertaining.”
“But you’ve lived in India, haven’t you?”
Severus nodded, conceding the point. “For the better part of two years.”
“Have you ever been to Brazil?”
Severus gave a small shake of his head and looked at the man with a bemused expression.
“I don’t suppose you read my book on Brazil,” David said with a knowing smile, eliciting a guilty smile from Severus. “I rest my case,” the man said definitively.
“Point well made,” Severus conceded. “You’re absolutely right. You’re not famous at all. I’m not even sure why I’m still speaking to you.”
A surprised laugh burst from the other man's mouth. “Because you know if you don’t do it now, you’ll be invited to dinner with Susi and the kids. If I understand correctly, you have an aversion to children.” The man gave an audacious grin.
“Preposterous,” Severus scoffed, feigning injury. “It is simply that my charm is lost on people under a certain age.” His mouth curled into an amused smirk as he rounded the counter to switch off the outside light. “I was just closing up,” he told the man. “I’ve been here all day and am rather eager to leave this place. Would you care to carry on this conversation over a drink, or is Susan expecting you back?”
David shook his head. “If you’re free, that sounds great. Only, could we make it dinner instead?”
It sounded more than reasonable to Severus, who’d only just had time to consume half a dissatisfying sandwich at noon. Having found himself without an assistant, his time was short. Between the shops and his patients, personal time was limited and lunch was a luxury reserved for successful business people who could afford the staff. “Do you have anything in particular in mind?”
“I’ll defer to the local,” David said with a submissive nod in Severus’ direction.
Given how frightfully cold it was outside, Severus chose the closest restaurant to him, which turned out to be a small, family-owned Thai restaurant called the Green Papaya. The two men were seated quickly on the slow Tuesday evening. Severus ordered a lager. David ordered a Diet Coke.
“You’re not teetotal, are you?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow.
“T?” David gave him a confused look.
“Do you not drink alcohol?” There were a ridiculous amount of Americans who looked upon booze as the essence of evil. Severus didn’t really have much to do with that sort of American.
“Ah. It’s not a moral thing,” he assured him. “I’ll have a bit with dinner. I’m diabetic,” he explained. He jingled a metal bracelet on his left wrist demonstratively.
Severus nodded. “I see,” he said. He didn’t really. While he had a better notion than most Wizards about the workings of the human body, Muggle illnesses were still a mystery to him. During the diagnostics he did on some of his clients, he would regularly encounter a feeling of wrongness and sometimes he could detect from which organ the problem was coming, but he wouldn’t have the faintest notion of what to do for it. Bones and muscles he was comfortable with. Everything else was the domain of professionals. “It must have made it difficult for you to travel,” he commented. What little he knew about the disease told him that perhaps visiting the farthest reaches of the third world might not be the greatest of ideas.
David shrugged. “It was all right, once I was diagnosed,” he said with a smile. “Don’t get me wrong. It called for a pretty radical lifestyle change,” he laughed. “When the doctor diagnosed me, though, I was so happy to know I wasn’t dying that learning I had diabetes was almost good news.”
“Dying?” It was a bit of information he’d not had from the man's sister over the years. Severus thought it rather refreshing. Otherwise, he suspected he’d have to sit and solicit information that he already knew about the man just to make conversation.
“I was diagnosed when I was about twenty-five, I think. Before that, I’d been touring around Asia for the better part of four years. I lived a fairly wild life in those days, and I wasn’t exactly careful, if you know what I mean.” Severus didn’t, exactly. But he nodded to urge the other man on, suspecting that he’d be able to get the general idea without professing his ignorance. “I started to get pretty sick and losing a lot of weight. I didn’t get tested because I was terrified to know what it was. Then when my editor came to meet me about doing a second book, he took one look at me and flew me to New York to see a doctor.” David gave a half smile. “I was so relieved to know I didn’t have AIDS, that the inconvenience of insulin shots seemed relatively minor.”
Realisation dawned and Severus nodded again. AIDS. It was another of those diseases that Severus knew little about. For him, it simply met that he had to dress his cock up in some ridiculous rubber sock so as to put his companions’ minds at ease. Of course, the list of magical maladies was just as long and varied as the Muggle ones, and so Severus thought it balanced out somehow. Gods forbid that he should ever get sick. He didn’t suspect that a Muggle hospital would care for his blood work were they to see it. He realised he had no idea where the nearest Wizarding health centre was located.
“Is that how you and your editor got together?” he asked, making connections in his head with certain known facts about the man.
David gave him an exasperated look. “Maybe we should start by telling each other what we already know, and then go from there,” he laughed. “I get the impression that Susi's already covered all the first date stuff.”
At the word ‘date,’ a habitual spike of panic speared through Severus’ insides. He raised an impassive eyebrow. “Is this a date?” he asked with a smirk. “Then, I should tell you that I don’t date.”
David grinned. “That’s something I do know about you. Why is that?”
Severus shrugged. “It doesn’t interest me,” he said plainly. “I prefer my life uncomplicated by emotional entanglements. It seems that dating would only serve to mislead people.”
“Fair enough,” David answered. “In that case, we’ll call it a friendly dinner between two near strangers.” He laughed. “Although, I’ve been told that you’ve been set up with half the gay population in the Metro area.”
Severus heaved a great sigh and rolled his eyes. “Under duress, I assure you,” he drawled. “I’ve been looking forward to your coming here, actually. It will give your sister and the rest of the Coven somewhere else to focus their maternal energies.”
“The coven?” David laughed.
“I use the word affectionately,” Severus replied with a smile.
David shook his head. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Hadrian. I'm not letting my sister choose my boyfriends.” He wrinkled his nose.
Severus grinned wickedly. “We’ll see,” he said ominously. “If she doesn’t try, you’ll have to dissuade the rest of them.” His eyes flickered back to the waitress, who approached with their food. He moved his napkin to his lap, and ordered a second beer after David ordered a glass of white wine.
“Maybe you and I can work some kind of deal out to thwart them,” David said with a charmingly hopeful smile, before taking a bite of some unidentifiable vegetable in a thick yellow curry sauce.
“And miss out on the entertainment?” Severus laughed. He gave him a reassuring smile. “You might find that given that you just got out of a relationship will award you some time. How long has it been?”
“Two years?” he said doubtfully.
“Bad luck,” Severus said with a serious expression. “There’s little hope for you.”
David treated him with a half-hearted glare that was wholly ineffectual. The man had eyes that radiated kindness. “How long has it been for you?” the man asked after a moment.
“I don’t do relationships,” Severus repeated.
“Oh.” David’s brow furrowed, and Severus had a pretty good idea of what he was thinking. He successfully kept himself from sighing. “I thought you... had a thing with a student?” The question mark at the end of the statement begged for confirmation.
“I think you’ll find that most of what you’ve heard about me is based on erroneous assumptions made by the overactive imaginations of bored, middle-aged women,” Severus said irritably before softening his expression. “Of course, at times it suits me not to disabuse them of their delusions.” He gave a sly smile.
“So...” David gave him a searching look. “You weren’t having an affair with your student.”
Severus took a bite of chicken and washed it down with a drink of beer. He wasn’t precisely keen on discussing this particular subject, but felt compelled to correct a few of the details. “I maintain a close friendship with a former student. A young man who held that happy title before the development of that friendship. I’ve seen him a total of two weeks over the last eight years. I’m not sure that constitutes an affair.”
David held his hands out defensively. “Just trying to confirm the facts I’ve been given,” he said with a placating smile. “It’s the writer in me,” he told him. “Susi seems to think the guy broke your heart when he went off and got married to some woman.”
Severus shook his head wearily and took another drink. “He married a girl he’d been with since they were both in school,” Severus confirmed. “And the two are now busy in their quest to overpopulate Britain. I find it amusing that the Coven believes me to have a heart to break.” Severus smirked and
David rolled his eyes.
“She said you were irritable for months after it happened,” he persisted, clearly not buying Severus' unaffected front.
“I’m irritable on a good day,” Severus told him. “The Coven saw what they wanted to see. For my part, their concern for my well-being meant that I had a handy excuse for not being set up with the other half of the Metro area.” David sat chewing thoughtfully, eyes searching Severus as though to see beyond the facade. Severus might have snorted incredulously, but he didn’t want to offend. “I wasn’t happy he was marrying her. I knew he was doing it because she was pregnant, and it was the noble thing to do. He’d just decided to end his relationship with her before she told him. I was annoyed on his behalf, if you like.”
Severus gave an unaffected shrug and pretended to himself that he wasn’t lying through his teeth. He was a master Occlumens. Any emotion that would belie the story was buried so far below the surface as to be completely inaccessible. The truth of it all hardly mattered, and Severus wasn’t one to freely admit his foolish mistakes. “For my part I did explain all of this to your sister and her friends. But they insisted on believing me the victim and I had earned a year of relative peace before they decided that it was time for me to get back on the horse, so to speak.”
After a moment, David laughed. “Funny. Mean, but funny.”
“It’s not mean,” Severus objected. “They drew the conclusions they wanted to draw. They chose not to believe me when I insisted they were misguided.”
“Well, I won’t be the one to tell them how wrong they all were. I think they like their story.” David shook his head, a grin stretching across his face that wouldn’t fade. His eyes danced in the low light of the restaurant and glittered with amusement. “You really didn’t sleep with him?”
Severus raised his eyebrows at the direct question. “I didn’t say that,” he pointed out before letting his mouth curl into a lascivious smile.
David’s gaze dropped to his plate. He laughed nervously. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
The blatant lie surprised a laugh out of Severus. It echoed through the empty restaurant. “Of course you do,” he contradicted. “But I forgive you. Given that I’m pretty sure I know your life story, it’s a fair trade.”
David covered his eyes momentarily with his hand. “My sister talks too much,” he complained. “Do you have a sister? Or a brother?”
Severus nodded. “A sister. Francesca. We haven’t spoken in many years. I feel reasonably certain that she doesn’t even know I’m alive.” He smiled. “She’s three years older than I. I was sent to boarding school when I was eleven, and she remained with my parents and went to the local state school. I’ve not seen her since our parents' funeral.”
David looked surprised at the information, which was puzzling. Severus was sure he’d already told the Coven that his parents were dead. “How did they die? An accident?”
Severus snorted. “It wasn’t an accident,” he said darkly. “My mother got fed up with being abused. She poisoned my father and then, regrettably, herself.” Severus was aware that his voice sounded cruelly distant, but he honestly couldn't summon any emotion when speaking about it. It was probably the smartest thing the women ever did.
“God, that’s horrible,” David gasped, looking frankly gobsmacked. “I’m really sorry. It must have been hard for you.”
Severus nodded because he felt it was expected of him. “To be honest, I was rather relieved. My father wasn’t a pleasant man and I was happy to know that, at least in the end, my mother recovered enough self-respect to put an end to it.” He took a long drink from his glass and met the man’s eyes. “I realise that sounds callous,” he admitted. “But she was a very unhappy woman.”
David shook his head to reassure him. “I understand,” he said hastily, before snorting incredulously at his own lie. “Well, no. I don’t. I couldn’t possibly, but I don’t think you sound callous. Pragmatic, perhaps.” He stared off for a moment before shaking his head again. “I’m amazed I didn’t already know that,” he said with a half smile.
“I don’t think the subject ever came up,” Severus lied. In fact, he distinctly recalled having answered the question regarding how his parents died with the vague response: Weariness. It begged the question, why did he tell the truth now? He had no real answer to that, but he didn’t suppose it mattered. It wasn’t exactly sensitive information.
“You were able to finish school anyway?” David asked.
Severus nodded. “I was on scholarship. I spent summers with friends from school and I had the family house when I came of age.”
“This is the same Headmaster as the one you worked for later?”
“For someone who claims to know nothing about me, you’re particularly well-informed,” he pointed out.
“I told you she talks too much,” David said. “But nearly everything she said was prefaced with ‘We’re not sure, but...’ So I’m trying to confirm. If it’s annoying, you can tell me,” he said generously.
“I assure you, when I’m annoyed, I will not need to tell you,” Severus informed him. It was one emotion he displayed quite readily and naturally. “Yes. The Headmaster became a dear friend to me.” For want of a better word, Severus added silently.
“A friend? Or an ‘um-Friend’.” David grinned. “You know, like. This is my... um. Friend.”
When the meaning became clear, Severus’ face crumpled in disgust. “The man was roughly a thousand years old when I was a student,” he said.
David laughed. “Ok. So no,” he said, clearly amused. “It was one of the theories they have for why you left Britain.”
Severus shook his head. He’d had no idea that that fantasy had been entertained. He’d have all too readily squashed it were it ever brought up. “Definitely no.”
“What was his name?”
Severus blinked. He had several ready-made answers to the usual getting to know you questions that he was forced to field. This one had never been asked and so he couldn’t determine straight away if it was safe to tell the truth. And if he were to lie, which lie would be easiest to recall and repeat. “Why?” he asked, stalling for time, as he went through the different possible consequences.
David shrugged. “For the story in my head. It’s not important,” he said.
“Albus,” Severus offered. He hoped the first name would suffice for the story in the man’s head, as he didn’t think it prudent to give the surname, especially given that any Wizard around the world would recognise it and thus would link ‘Hadrian’ to the Wizarding world were they to hear him speak it.
“That’s an unusual name.”
“He was an unusual man.”
A silence filled the space between them as the two men sat eating for a long moment. Severus went through the conversation so far and mentally catalogued the new information he’d shared about his mysterious life in Britain. Keeping track of the truths one told was just as important as keeping up with the lies if one were to maintain one’s back story. It was as he was going through the conversation that his attention caught upon one of the man’s remarks. “What other theories are there?” Severus asked, sincerely curious.
“Hm?” David said, around a mouthful of curry.
“You said that it was one of the theories for my leaving Britain. What other theories are those darling women entertaining themselves with?”
David looked at him warily. “If I tell you, will you give me details?” he challenged.
Severus tilted his head to the side. “I promise nothing,” he smirked.
David sighed. “Well there’s the one where you’re a fugitive,” the other man said rolling his eyes as though to communicate that he realised how ridiculous the theory was.
Severus gave an amused grunt. “And this despite the fact that my only remaining contact in Britain works in law enforcement?”
David shrugged. “I can’t speak for the logic. Although I suppose it would be easier to evade capture if you had an inside man,” he pointed out with a grin.
Severus gave the man a bland look. “I left because I was unhappy there. It is no more complicated than that. I had no attachments, apart from superficial professional acquaintances. I wanted to move on.” It wasn’t really a lie. It was the basis of his reasoning behind faking his death, after all. That and fear of prison. And fear of vengeful Death Eaters.
“I totally get that,” David said. “I ran away from home too, after all.”
Severus let his fork drop to his plate and wiped his mouth with his serviette, before dropping that to the plate as well. “Why did you run away?”
David gave him a sheepish look. “I don’t know how much of this you already know,” he started. “I went to India to study abroad in my senior year of college. School was never really my thing. That I made it to college at all was a miracle. Needless to say, I wasn’t really studying much, and eventually, I gave up on the pretence. It took awhile for my parents to realise it. When they did, they cut me off to try and force me to come home. But by then I’d already started submitting articles to travel magazines. It didn’t pay well, but it paid enough for me to get by. The money I got from the book on India paid enough to see me through the next couple of years of travelling.” He shrugged. “I think the simple explanation is that I was gay, and it was easier to be gay when I was on the opposite side of the world from anyone who would care. The more honest explanation was that I was a bit of a selfish prick, and I was having far too much fun to stop.”
“And then you got sick,” Severus filled in.
“Yeah,” he said. “It was probably the best thing to happen to me. I don’t know as I’d be alive now if I hadn’t. I stayed in New York for a few months with Ryan.”
“You were with him a long time,” Severus commented.
David nodded. “Eight years or so,” he confirmed.
“If it’s not too indiscreet a question, why did it end?” Severus asked.
The other man shrugged and looked into his wine glass. “We just got to a point where we couldn’t stand the sight of each other anymore. There wasn’t anything more dramatic than that. It all ended kind of ambivalently. You know how it is.”
Severus nodded, although he really had no experience with this sort of thing at all. And he certainly didn’t regret this lack of knowledge. “It seems the way of relationships,” he said diplomaticall.
“I don’t know. My parents have been together for forty-five years. They seem happy enough,” he said. He snorted. “Of course, they don’t believe in divorce, so I guess that helps.”
Severus gave the man a long look. “Do they know you’re coming for the holidays?”
David looked distinctly uncomfortable with the subject. “Yeah. Susi said my mother was looking forward to it.”
Severus knew for a fact that Susan had slightly overstated the level of enthusiasm. “What about you?”
“I wasn’t a very good son,” David admitted. “I’ve been in and out of trouble since I was... twelve, I think. My parents were always very good to me. They prayed for my wayward soul every Sunday. When I told them I was gay, it was sort of the last straw for them. They lost hope. I called my mom five years ago to try and mend things. She asked me if I’d come back to Jesus yet. She didn’t really like my answer.” David sighed. “I don’t really expect my homecoming to be a happy one. But I think I need to try. They’re not getting any younger.”
Severus nodded. “I suppose your determination is admirable.” He gave the man a playful smirk. “If it grows too unbearable, you can always come back and spend Christmas amongst the rest of the damned.”
David smiled. “I appreciate the offer,” he said. “We’ll be back for New Year’s anyway. You are going to Susi’s party?” He gave a hopeful smile.
Severus nodded gravely. “I’ll make an appearance. But there’s only so much Karaoke that one can handle in a night.”
“You have to come,” David told him. “You can’t leave me alone with them.”
Severus feigned a thoughtful look. “I’ll consider it. What is my payment for enduring a night of badly sung, insipid love ballads?”
David laughed. “My undying gratitude? What else would you want?” His eyes glittered defiantly.
“I’ll have to give the matter some thought,” Severus said with a serious expression. “Indentured servitude might be fitting.”
David laughed and dropped his own serviette on his plate. The server came to take everything away and David insisted on paying the bill, as prepayment for Severus’ time on New Year’s Eve, he said. As they stepped out of the restaurant, Severus turned to the man.
“I suppose you know your way home?” he said.
David nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “It was a good night. I love my sister, but I was going a little stir crazy not knowing anyone else.”
“It was my pleasure,” Severus said, quite sincerely. He pulled his collar shut against the cold. “I’d invite you home, but I wouldn’t want to risk invoking the wrath of your sister,” he said with a smile.
“Hm. Put that way, I’m tempted to go home with you just to spite her.” David laughed, and then met Severus’ eyes. “It's a shame I don’t really do the casual sex thing,” he added.
Severus gave him a contemplative look. “And I suppose formal but non-committal sex is out of the question.”
“As tempting as the offer is...” David said rolling his eyes.
“Pity,” Severus joked. “On the bright side, I’ll be able to tell Susan I have played nicely with her kid brother without having to stretch the truth too much.”
“Lucky me.”
Severus raised an eyebrow and gave the man a dark look. “A matter of perception,” he said with a smirk.
David’s eyebrows shot up. His mouth dropped open with a retort that never left his tongue, which darted out instead to wet his lips. After a moment he cleared his throat. “Goodnight, Hadrian,” he said finally.
“Thank you for dinner. If I don’t see you, have a happy Christmas.” He gave a faintly ironic look before shaking the man’s hand. He watched as David made his way down the street and then started off the opposite way to get back to his flat.
**
10 December 2008
Hi,
I'm beginning to worry about you. I've not heard from you in ages and I have no way of knowing if you're all right.
I’m writing to you now because there are certain developments in America that I am not sure you’re aware of. There are other developments that I feel fairly confident you know nothing about. I’m enclosing an article from the Prophet.
I need to see you. I can come to you if you’d like or we can meet in the usual place. You’ll need to count on it taking a few days. It will be easier if you come to me.
I have a few ideas to work around this. Ring me to make arrangements, please. We don’t have a lot of time.
Yours,
Harry
The US Department of Magical Affairs and Tourism passed a new law today that will require all foreign tourists and immigrants to register their presence on US soil. Brits wishing to travel across the pond will need, in addition to a passport, to register their magical signature.
This comes after an onslaught of terrorist attacks, for which Muggle government officials have little explanation. In a rare collaborative investigation, the Federal Bureau of Investigation has teamed up with DMAT to conclude that the attacks have been magical.
The new law will be effective as of 1 January 2009. Brad Roddick, Secretary of Internal Wizarding Affairs released a statement early yesterday.
“Non-magical folk have had their travel tracked for years. It was only a matter of time before the same monitoring was required of Magical Persons. The United States welcomes tourists gladly, but we can no longer permit them to enter our borders unchecked.”
While they have kept their methods of tracking unregistered wizards and witches secret, Roddick has warned that “anyone seeking to enter the US through dishonest means will be found and dealt with.”
So, no more Confundus charms on difficult immigration officers. “We have a moral obligation to protect non-magical kind from those who would seek to harm them. All magic performed on Muggles with the intent of harming or deceiving them will be investigated, and the perpetrators will be appropriately punished,” Roddick said.
The Ministry has refused to comment on rumours that similar tracking mechanisms have been put into place within our own borders, but the Minister of Magic has hinted that the roll out of the new American technology is being carefully studied.
Invasion of privacy or just good sense? We want to hear what you think!
**
“Potter,” Harry answered. The number had shown up as blocked and in the silence that followed, Harry became keenly aware of the identity of the person on the other end. His heart sped up.
“Harry,” the low voice answered, and touched something buried deep inside him. Something he’d spent years reasoning away. He’d grown immune to the sight of the man’s tight script in the infrequent correspondence, but the voice awakened a long dormant yearning. A memory of despair.
He’d been expecting the call since sending out his letter ten days earlier. He’d grown increasingly worried as the time passed that the other man wouldn’t contact him. “I’m glad you called,” Harry breathed at last.
“You mentioned in your letter I should come to you. Why?” Severus said.
“There are a few options. Based on what you decide, I may need to come back to the Ministry to sort things out. It'll be quicker if I don’t have to travel through America,” Harry explained. He leant back in his chair and surveyed the room to ensure no one was listening in.
“I’m concerned about getting back,” Severus said quietly.
“Don’t be,” Harry said. He’d spent months planning this out, going to different contacts in the Ministry and the American Embassy. He sat through painfully long lunches with people he normally wouldn’t talk to just to glean as much information as he could to form several plans. He didn’t expect any one of them to be ideal options for Severus, but compromises would need to be made, whatever the decision. “There isn’t a perfect solution, but you’ll get back if that’s what you want. You’ll probably be better off no matter what you decide.”
He listened to the silence on the other end a moment before adding, “Trust me, okay?”
“Will Boxing Day be too late?”
“No. It’s perfect. I would plan to stay the week, though. I expect I’ll have to run back and forth and the Ministry will be closed over New Year.”
Severus sounded slightly amused when he said, “We’ll drink a cup of kindness, then.”
Harry laughed. “For auld lang syne,” he finished. “I’ll look forward to it.” It was only partly true, and he dreaded that part of him that looked forward to it.
“See you soon, Harry.”
“Bye.”