Chapter Text
Harry strolled into the house, through the kitchen door. He almost fell over the cat, as Lucifer made a beeline for freedom. He rolled his eyes but declined yelling after the damned tortoiseshell idiot. He had no idea why the silly animal didn’t just use the catflap he had been ordered to install as soon as they’d brought the little fluff ball home.
He cracked his neck as he popped his apron on the side. Walking to the sink, he grabbed a plastic cup off the draining board and downed some water. Working with wood was always thirsty work. And, he kept forgetting to take a bottle into his workshop with him.
Harry loved his kitchen. It was just how he wanted it. When they’d brought the older, Georgian home, it was the kitchen that had brokered the deal. A huge farmhouse kitchen with a stable door and a massive oak table for family dinners.
They never did seem to have family dinners, Gin preferred to go to her mum’s. And, Harry agreed because he was too knackered after looking after the boys all day.
Harry flicked out his fingers and wandlessly turned the kettle on - just before it started to boil, he heard a noise coming from upstairs.
Frowning, he glanced out the kitchen window double-checking that Lucifer was still outside. Sure enough, he saw the cat trotting along the path, adventuring to places unknown, hopping up onto the fence before diving down and out of sight.
Glancing at the ceiling, he tested the wards with his magic. It confirmed someone else was in his property. Which they shouldn’t be. Considering his eldest son was at Hogwarts, his youngest son was at the Burrow, and his wife was in Wales at the Harpies ground.
Harry’s stomach swooped and he walked silently through the kitchen into the hall. A quick homenum revelio spell revealed that there was someone in his bedroom.
This was also confirmed with Ginny’s huge quidditch bag stuffed by the bottom of the stairs. Which was weird, Gin wasn’t officially back till later that night.
Harry climbed the stairs swiftly and pushed open his bedroom door. The large bay window shed light on his wife who was sitting on the thick grey carpet surrounded by pieces of parchment and an open box. At first, he thought she looked happy but then he realised quickly she was crying.
“Hey! What’s going on, are you okay?” Harry asked with concern. He hadn’t seen her since the weekend. She had seemed fine then, and they had floo-called the day before as Ginny had wanted to know how Albus’ cold was.
Ginny huffed out a laugh, a few fresh tears falling.
“You know,” she began leaning back on their four poster bed. “I always thought it was just me. That I wasn’t doing enough to make you happy. But, it was actually nothing to do with me, really. Because it’s not about me at all, is it? It was never supposed to be me.”
Harry blinked. “What?”
Ginny swallowed and wiped her face.
“I had this feeling that there was something missing. That there was a piece of this jigsaw that was lost somewhere. Because, we had everything. We had everything, Harry. But it was never enough, was it?”
Harry frowned, trying to take in what she was saying. Not happy? They were happy, weren’t they?
“Gin, what are you going on about?”
“This!” she said, jostling the box, more parchment fell out. She grabbed a few. “I’m talking about you and your fucking love letters to Draco Malfoy.”
Harry looked in horror at the box. He was so used to seeing it he hadn’t realised at first what it was. She was holding the letters Malfoy and he had sent to each other.
“You … you went through my … how could you …” Harry felt sick. This was private and she’d fucking desecrated it. “Ginny, what the fuck!”
Ginny stood up. Her infamous temper reared forwards. “What the fuck, me? What the fuck you, more like, Harry!”
“These are PRIVATE!” Harry roared, feeling like he wanted to kill her. Harry had no secrets. None. He had never been able to keep anything private. He had just one thing and Ginny was currently scrunching it in her hands.
“Don’t I know it! What’s wrong with you? Twelve years of letters! TWELVE YEARS.” Ginny threw the letters to the floor and walked around the room. “You never said a word. Not one word! How many times did you meet him, huh? Did he portkey back? Does Astoria know about your little affair?”
“What! Affair? What are you on about? We’ve never met …" Harry was astounded. He gathered the letters with a flick of his wrist placing them all carefully back into the box.
“Of course you never met him … do you think I’m stupid?” Ginny rolled her eyes. “My gods, Harry. I did everything you wanted. I tried so hard to make you happy. You wanted another baby after Jamie, so we had one. We bought this house away from everyone we love so you could have space. We even named our boys for you! I wanted to call Al, Fred - I couldn’t even squeeze it in as a middle name because he had to be called ‘Severus’, too. Fucking, Severus, the man of nightmares!”
“What, no!” Harry shook his head. That wasn’t true. They’d both wanted another baby. Yes, James had been an accident, but a happy one. And the names had meant something good. They’d both agreed. “You said it was okay … a-and Ron used Fred as a middle name for Hugo …”
“I didn’t even know you were gay, Harry!” Ginny said as frustrated tears ran down her cheeks.
Harry felt like he’d been slapped. “I’m not fucking gay!”
“Forgodsake, Harry!” Ginny walked back over to the box and opened the lid.
It took everything Harry had to stand back and let her touch the letters.
“These are love letters,” she said miserably, taking a bunch and letting them fall back into the box.
Harry shook his head. “Ginny …”
He walked towards her, but Ginny took some steps away. She put her hand up, stopping him. Harry stayed where he was. It was always like this with Gin, she’d erupt and she needed time to work out how she felt.
Ginny wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m going to Mum’s. I’ll stay tonight, I’ll keep Al with me.”
Harry looked at her in shock. “Gin, no! This is ridiculous. They were just letters. We just talked about our lives. It was … nothing …” but even as Harry was speaking he knew his voice sounded weaker. Because it wasn’t nothing.
Receiving those letters had sometimes been … everything.
“You told him about the miscarriage,” she whispered, her bottom lip wobbling. “That was private.”
“No … Hey, I’d never meant to hurt you with that, Gin. I just needed to talk about it.”
“Yes, exactly. You talked with him about things we didn’t talk about, Harry!” Her face scrunched up with pain. “I suffered too, I needed to talk to you. You never wanted to! You didn’t want to talk to me.”
Harry stood silently. He had no idea what to say. It had been different writing it down. He had always been terrible at talking.
“I …” he tried.
Ginny shook her head as more fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Her lip wobbled as she stared miserably at him. “I have to go,” she whispered.
His wife turned around and walked out the door. He heard her trot down the stairs and grab her bag followed by the loud crack of her apparition.
Harry slumped on the bed. He took a deep breath and brushed his fingers on the letters.
Shit.
~
December 1998
Potter,
This letter has been a long time coming.
I owe you some thank yous, so it seems. Firstly, for the swift return of the wand you filched during our eventful meeting at the Manor. Secondly, for the character reference and timeline of factual events you provided for the defence of my family and my tribunals.
Thirdly, for saving my life.
I do appreciate it and am extremely grateful.
Good luck in all your endeavours, Potter.
Best regards,
D. Malfoy.
~
December 1998
Malfoy,
Seriously, that’s it? Three very quick thank yous? I wrote about seventeen inches on that timeline. Really personal shit! Everything that had happened between us.
Well, mostly … I didn’t talk about the obvious one. I reckon it wouldn’t look great if it got out I had been using dark magic at Hogwarts in a bathroom - which I’m really fucking sorry about by the way. It was a shitty thing to do - I was terrified. Snape was furious.
I’m glad you and your mum were let out of Azkaban. I couldn’t give two fucks about your fascist father, but it seems whatever I said (and the connections he has) were enough to set him free. I may punch him if I see him around.
Malfoy, I think this is the longest letter I’ve ever written!
Anyway, do better in your next letter, the last one was shit.
HJP.
~
March 1999
Potter,
You know, for a moment there I thought we may have had the opportunity to grow and change. Specifically you. The last time I saw you, you were having an epic scrap with the scariest man I’ve had the misfortune to meet.
You weren’t afraid. It was … incredible.
Alas, you are still the same arrogant twat, you’ve always been. ‘Malfoy, your letter was too short, make it longer! Malfoy, I don’t like your father, I may punch him. Malfoy, sorry for permanently maiming you in a bathroom whilst you were having a panic attack. Malfoy, do better with your correspondence!’
Well, here it goes, fuckface.
Azkaban was horrific. But it was still better than living in the manor during the war. However, my mother was in bad shape whilst we were incarcerated - the prison was cold and damp and she got this hacking cough she couldn't shift - so when our solicitor received your testimony, things became exponentially better. All in all, we were locked up for four months.
My father (with his punchable face) is not well. The constant crucios as well as the torture he experienced has affected his mind. He’s a paranoid wreck. My mother decided enough was enough, and has gifted the manor to aid with war reparations, along with other sizable donations. Our former home only made it worse for dear old Dad.
I’ve been helping her to settle everything and also to plan how we can, as a family, save face. It’s not looking good. I don’t really care about myself, but my mother was a pawn - this is the only life she’s ever known. It hurts me that she is being spurned by our society.
We do have several other properties, but are currently housed in a cosy five bed in a small seaside village whilst my parents recuperate. I’ve managed to catch up with a few friends but, I’ll be honest - it’s not looking good. People hate us - and before you say anything, I do not blame them.
I hear you have joined the aurors and are training hard to be one of ‘Shacklebolt's best’! I’m sure you’ll succeed, Potter. Your unbreakable moral compass will guide you justly!
Not to be a dick, but that current photograph of you and Weasley in the Prophet was hilarious. You are the most awkward person when a camera is present. I laughed A LOT.
Well, lots to do, so best be off …
Best
D. Malfoy.
PS sorry for the late reply, every time I pick up a quill my father thinks I’m trying to kill him, so you can see my conundrum.
~
August 1999
Malfoy,
Have you left already? I can’t tell - Hermione ran into Daphne and she said you and Astoria got married but you were going to Sweden? Is that where you have to be based for the course you were telling me about? The healer apprenticeship?
I guess I just thought you were always going to be around. Sweden isn’t that far, I suppose.
Did you hear I’m going to be a dad?
Shitting. My. Self. Mate.
Everyone keeps saying that we are ‘so young’. No shit! I know we’re young. We’re also a little bit fucked up post war, if you catch my drift.
Talking about mental, how’s your dad? Luna said Xeno has been spending time with him. I cannot believe that they are brothers! As if Xeno is a Malfoy by birth! He was the spare right? But he eloped with Pandora? The drama in the wizarding world is nuts.
Ron, Hermione, Ginny and I have been spending a lot of time in the muggle world. We needed the break. Muggle pubs are alright, cheap too! Gin and I have been out a lot. I suppose that’s why she’s pregnant - we weren’t particularly being careful or responsible. Turns out Arthur Weasley can get a bit nasty. I honestly thought he was going to lamp me.
Did your mum write back to Andromeda in the end? I daren't ask. Andi was proper moody about me asking her to get in touch. But, you know how irresistible I can be! Anyway, I was hoping that might help a bit to get her back on track. Seriously, I owe your mum, so let me know if there’s anything else I can do.
Anyway, good luck with the move to Sweden.
Cheers,
HJP
PS congrats on the wedding.
~
Luna looked up from one of the letters and blinked. She dived back in again and kept reading quietly.
Harry nibbled his lip nervously.
It had been a week since Ginny had first read his private stash of letters. They’d seen each other three times and had argued so badly that one or both of them had stormed off at different intervals.
Harry didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand why she thought he was having a fucking affair with Draco Malfoy.
He did, on the other hand, realise it was probably a bit weird to not have told her about his and Malfoy’s correspondence. He had tried to explain to her how he had never ever had anything private. Just to himself. But, she had countered that normally meant it was private from other people, not his wife.
Harry was struggling to agree with that and was honestly still furious with her for going through his things. He would never have done that to her. Not once.
Ron and Hermione were refusing to get involved.
So, Harry had asked Luna to have a look and tell him if they sounded like love letters.
After the fifth letter Harry couldn’t take it. “Lu, come on. What do you think?”
His friend was sitting at the kitchen table, Lucifer was on her lap and she was stroking the cat idly. Luna put the letter down and frowned at Harry. These days her hair was a bit shorter, she was wearing a white t-shirt with pretty embroidery around the sleeves and a pair of flared grey jeans.
“Do you want my professional opinion or a personal one?”
Luna was a solicitor. Her calm determination and rather large brain made her unbeatable in the courtroom.
Harry scratched his nose. “Both? Umm, personal? I dunno, whatever means you tell me Ginny is being a weirdo.”
Luna took a breath. “From what I have seen so far, I can't see how Ginny thought you were having an affair …”
“Yessss. I fucking knew it!” Harry drew in a fist pump.
“Having said that, Harry, these are more than just casual letters. Not only have you kept copies of what you sent to him, from very early on you were talking to Draco about extremely personal events in both your lives. Something which is unusual for you. And for him. You don’t even talk about your childhood with any of us, and we know it was rough, Harry …”
Harry threw his head back. “Luna.”
“Did you talk about it … with him?” she asked.
Harry took a deep breath and rubbed his mouth with his palm. He nodded.
“Was it Draco that persuaded you to reach out to Dudley?”
Harry crossed his arms and chewed his bottom lip. “Yes.”
It had been about six years ago. The boys were small and Harry had mentioned to Malfoy that Dudley had been trying to reach him. The silly twat had been grabbing people on the streets who wore traditional robes and asking them to get a message to ‘Harry Potter’ - it had worked, as well. They’d gone to the paper and Skeeter had asked him to do a ‘tell all’ reunion with his cousin.
Malfoy had said why not. (Not about the paper, about seeing his cousin.) People change all the time and both of them were great examples of that. ‘If we can tolerate each other through the odd letter, then surely you can spend five minutes with your tubby cousin. If it’s awful, then you know you tried and you can make peace with that.’
Dudley's daughter Harriet had Harry’s laugh and his smile. They met up about three times a year, these days. His wife, Aisha, was lovely and refused to speak to Petunia and Vernon, let alone leave her daughter with them. Dudley spent most of his time with Aisha’s family. Harry and Ginny had gone to the wedding, it was beautiful and Dud looked fantastic in his sherwani.
“Harry, there is nothing wrong with being friends with Draco - I personally think he’s grown to be a good man,” Luna said, placing a small hand on Harry’s arm. “But, you hid it. I think you’ve hurt Ginny. I believe she feels pushed aside because from very early on in these letters, you two are able to share a confidence she, and many of your friends, have never experienced.”
Harry huffed out a sigh. This was ridiculous. It was just Malfoy.
“It’s different with him,” Harry stated, gesturing at the letter. “We had … similar experiences. It was easier to write it down. He never even answered straight away! It was just all out and then sometime later he would write back and moan about his own shit.”
Luna smiled softly. “This was also the man you knew had previously spoken to the press about you, specifically.”
Harry frowned with irritation. “He was a child then.”
Luna nodded. “I agree, but can you see why Ginny is cross?”
Harry stared out of the window. This just wasn’t fair. He’d done nothing wrong.
“Harry?”
He looked back at his friend.
“I’m personally really glad you had this …” she said, picking up a letter and wafting it. “I think you both did a lot of good for each other writing like this.”
Harry smiled at Luna, his heart warming. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
~
November 2000
Potter,
Fuck, this is hard. What I wouldn't give to have Granger's exuberantly enormous brain. Does she have an eidetic memory? You can tell me, Potter. I can keep a secret. She must have. No one is that clever. No one.
How are these first year exams? First!
Do you know …? I may not pass. I'm working my arse off, I go to every lecture, I partake in every extra activity, I research everything down to the very bones, and I honestly think I've retained close to fuck-all.
And, no, Potter. I don't get to do it in English. I have to do it in Swedish, you plod. Fortunately, my mother made me learn Swedish, French, German and Spanish from when I was four years old so I'm fairly proficient … let's face it, my Swedish is probably better than your English.
So, how is the little scamp? Are you sleeping yet? Are you sure a very gentle stupefy is not in order? If he's not sleeping at all, that can't be good for any of you.
Mother says he's your double, poor sod. She saw a photo at Andromeda’s. Jamie is a nice name. Little less harsh on the tongue than ‘Dray-coh’. Far nicer than your pedestrian denomination.
Well, Potter, you gave it a good go, but I really do think it's time to just jack it in. You can admit it. You hate it. I think we were a little over achieving with our thoughts around your moral compass. Yours seems intent to settle at whatever you deem is right, rather than the general consensus.
And, not to point out the obvious - I'm not sure that every junior auror is within their rights to have a screaming row with the head auror and get away with it. It reeks of entitlement, Potter.
You and I have ascended from this. We have ‘grown’.
It seems your ‘chosen’ days are over. I suggest a rebrand. Maybe we can start calling you The Boy Who Probably Shouldn't. Or, what about; The Indecisive One? ← the clear winner!
In other news, my father has been deemed fit enough to travel to Sweden. Mum says he's doing so much better.
(Also, thank you for nudging St Mungo’s … I know it was you. He's been receiving good care since. )
It was great to hear you're playing quidditch again, Theo mentioned it. They were extremely pleased you came to their friendly. Blaise tried to maintain you'd lost your edge, but I called bullshit and Greg confirmed it. He said you were as fast as ever. My little trio of Slytherins were pleased as punch to throw your appearance in my face.
I’ll be honest, I haven’t told them we correspond.
I couldn’t help myself. I may have pretended to be in a huff and said something along the lines of (word for word) ‘I wouldn't want to hang around with that speccy twat, anyway.’ I was pleased that I still ‘have it’.
I miss quidditch, but am far too busy to even think about it yet. Tori has started to make a few friends so I have to make small talk with all sorts of riff raff, Potter. We’ve had muggleborns around for dinner! Sympathy please.
Best,
D. Malfoy.
~
December 2000
Malfoy,
Well, I did it. I quit three weeks ago. Ginny and I had a chat (a BLAZING row) and I told her that I hated it. (You may have called this early, but I maintain that I did like it at first.)
I think she was feeling a bit overwhelmed like me, so when I finally admitted that I’d just like to stay home with Jamie, she suddenly deflated and was over the moon. Apparently, Kelsie Gibbons is moving to the Tornedos so Ginny’s old spot is up for grabs - she’s got three months to get back into shape … she's happy and so am I!
Ron thinks I’m a right weirdo because he said the last thing he would want is to stay at home with Hugo all day - but both Hermione and him are back at work. Did I tell you George has stopped drinking? He’s much better.
Jamie and I get up to all sorts of mischief, and every Thursday we have started to pick up Teddy from nursery, too. Christ, you’d love Teddy - he’s been hanging out with your mum waaaay too much. He speaks like you do, it’s so weird.
Did your mum say we had coffee last week? She got her days mixed up and the four of us headed into Diagon and went into that new coffee shop, then we took the kids to this amazing park. Your mum said she used to take you, when you were little.
She said your dad really enjoyed his visit to Sweden but it took a lot out of him. It’s funny to think of Lucius that way. He was always so big and intimidating.
We talked about Severus too. Fuck, Malfoy, I wish I’d really known the man. I envy you for your relationship with him.
And, mate - can we stop this bollocks about your intelligence? You fixed a vanishing cabinet when you were sixteen! You’re clever enough, it’s confidence you struggle with. And I’m not talking about your false, twatty confidence - I mean belief in yourself. You’ll smash your exams. They’re in January, right? Good luck!
As far as I know Hermione does not have an eidetic memory. (I had to look that word up - can you imagine having one? I would not want that! Not with the shit we have seen.)
Ha! I also did not tell your mates we are in touch. I referred to you as ‘the anemic ferrety wanker!’ - not bad, huh?
So, did you talk to Astoria about having a baby yet? I guess it’s a little early … I think you’d like it, but I suppose you need to finish your studies first? Hermione is a bit further ahead on her healers course. She works in St Mungo’s three days a week at the mo - she is thriving in that environment - (surrounded by clever dicks, like you) and Molly is very much enjoying having Hugo.
It’s all starting to work out …
Cheers,
The Indecisive One
~
Harry stood up when Ginny arrived. They were in a coffee shop in Holyhead. She looked good, as beautiful as she always looked. Her hair was in a long plait down her back and she was in jeans and a bomber jacket.
“I got you a cappuccino.” Harry gestured at the cup.
“And a slice of cake.” Ginny smirked as she sat down and took her coat off.
“That’s for me,” Harry joked.
She rolled her eyes good naturedly.
It had been six weeks. Harry was tired of fighting.
“So,” Harry began warming his hands on his mug.
“Look, before we start trying to resolve … whatever this is. How do you feel?” Ginny asked, picking her chair up and getting closer to the table. “I mean, how do you really feel?”
Harry searched her face. She looked calm. There was no anger or hurt behind her eyes. He could read her well enough to know when he’d royally fucked her off. If he was honest with himself, he still didn’t agree with what she had done. He was still seething that she had been in his private things, but overall, he wasn’t devastated. He missed her, but he was okay.
“Umm, I mean. I miss you …”
Ginny nodded. “But you’re not heartbroken, right?”
Harry huffed out an awkward laugh. “Gods, err … Gin, I love you …!”
“Harry, I’m not either.”
Harry looked up. Torn between resentment and relief, which was such an odd feeling. Why wasn’t she heartbroken? The bitch.
She started messing with the cake, using the little fork to shave off the cream. “Sorry, I do love you, Harry. You’re Harry, I’ll always love you, in some way. But, I just feel …”
“Relief,” he finished quietly.
Ginny huffed out the awkward laugh this time. “Oh Merlin,” she said, rubbing her face.
“It’s okay.” Harry took her hand and squeezed her fingers.
She smiled through her tears. “Why do we feel this way?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. He was having trouble with his own watery eyes.
They sat quietly for a moment. Harry was rubbing her fingers with his thumb and trying to breathe away his anxiety.
After a long moment, Ginny took a deep breath. “I think I’d like to get a house here, renting at first …”
Harry ignored the squeeze of his heart and nodded.
“Would you be okay with that? We can set up the floo so the boys can come and go …”
“Yeah,” Harry replied gruffly. “Sounds good.” He took a sip of his tea.
“I also think we should draw up a legal document about sharing the kids,” she said calmly.
Harry sat up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fucking hell, Gin - you’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
Ginny shook her head. “Don’t do that, Harry. That’s not fair.”
He took a sharp breath. “Right, Luna could mediate … maybe?”
“Okay, yeah.”
They were quiet again. Harry watched as a little old couple quarrelled about their order. He turned away, feeling rubbish.
“Have you thought anymore about … your sexuality.”
Harry rolled his eyes and chewed his bottom lip. “Well, if we’re not together anymore it’s not really your business, is it?”
Ginny’s nostrils flared and her mouth thinned to a line. “Right,” she said succinctly.
After a moment she pushed her mug away. “I have to go back to training.”
Harry nodded. “Okay, look … thanks for meeting me. I’ll ask Luna to give us a date about the kids thing and … let me know when you want to get your stuff and I’ll get out your hair so you can grab everything in peace.”
Ginny nodded. “Shall we get mobile phones? Mary on the team has one, it’s much faster than owl post and loads better than a giant stag and horse turning up when you least want them to. Might be easier to sort out the boys that way. You can send instant messages.”
Harry’s heart flipped. Malfoy had a mobile phone. He’d been on about Harry getting one for ages.
Harry nodded. “Yeah, do we have to get the same one?”
Ginny laughed. “No, you idiot. It’s not a walky-talky!”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it’d be good to speak to Dudley as well.”
“Oh yeah.” Ginny smiled genuinely. “Aisha has one too, right?”
“Yeah, I reckon.”
“Okay,” Ginny said, standing up and putting her coat on. “This was … better. We’ll keep it up, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied, standing too.
Ginny gave him an awkward smile and a weird wave and then walked away. He watched her leave. Then he put his own coat on and headed to the apparition point, thinking about locating a tech shop in London.
~