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 Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 1:00 pm
“…a divorce,” murmured Gilderoy, his voice low and rather hallow.
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 1:13 pm
"Hm?" Harry asked, looking over his shoulder at Gilderoy and blowing a lock of hair out of his face, only to have it fall back in front of his eyes.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said." The noise of the sizzling onions had blocked out Gilderoy's quiet murmur.
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 1:34 pm
“I said, I think we should consider a divorce. For the children. For us. For closure.”
As Gilderoy spoke his voice remained as vacant as an unemployed attic, unending and dusty with disuse, gathering strength and tone only on the final word.
Their marriage seemed to stretch between them in the room, serenaded by the persistent gurgling of simmering food and the lazy chatter of birds outside. Burdened with misunderstandings and regrets, kept lingering with laughter and adventure, the rotting foundation of two beautiful children. While it had ended long before Gilderoy lost himself a second time, to the former St Mungo’s patient it seemed bitterly close and painfully sharp in his lungs; for him it had never ended, because he couldn’t recall it falling to pieces.
The author raised his chin and viewed Harry through critical blue eyes. “I highly doubt you care for me any longer – you flinch from my touch, you avoid being alone with me for more than a few minutes… oh, don’t deny it!” he added shrilly before Harry could voice confirmation or protest, reaching out and catching Harry’s wrist, raising it sharply to draw the Quidditch player closer. “You’ve moved on!”
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 1:55 pm
Harry dropped the spoon, feeling an oddly leaden weight fall in his stomach at the same instant. What? What had Gilderoy said?
"Gilderoy..." Harry flinched now at the reminder, guilt washing over him. He felt guilt when he was with Gilderoy, thinking of Xeno, guilt when he was with Xeno, thinking of Gilderoy, guilt when he was with the children, thinking of all the secrets they were keeping, that he was forcing them to keep.
Guilt. Harry was laden with it, it draped sleazily across his shoulders, whispering constantly in his ear all of his failures, never-endingly.
Words caught in Harry's throat as Gilderoy grabbed him, pulled him closer, at the shrill voice, at the fact that Gilderoy managed to bring this up, even though in his world, he and Harry were still madly in love.
Harry's sharp green eyes were watery and shiny as he looked at Gilderoy's face, and he was confronted once again with the feelings he'd had long ago, had now. His continuing love for Gilderoy, his frustration with his expectations and wants, and the ever-lingering feeling of dread at losing him, at losing anyone, ever again.
Of how he just couldn't stand to lose one more person, couldn't stand to have that devastating feeling again like he'd felt when Gilderoy had lost his memory for the second time. And yet Gilderoy still loved him, but he was offering to let him go.
Tears fell down Harry's face, his knees buckled, and he suddenly collapsed towards the floor, not expecting Gilderoy to catch him, for anyone to.
He didn't feel as if he deserved it.
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 2:29 pm
Arms strengthened by persistent physical therapy caught the collapsing male effortlessly, gathering his shorter frame against Gilderoy’s chest before Harry could crumple to the kitchen floor. In a flash memories and feelings gathered and splashed over the author’s conscious like a heavy ocean wave crashing violently against the shore; flickers of papers requiring two signatures to end all they’d had, the warmth of Harry’s earnest mouth against the nape of his neck, the giggles of his children as they bounced amid a thousand rainbow-tinted bubbles floating across the lawn, the salted taste of tears settled between his lips, the rush of wind across his eyes as he gripped Harry’s waist tighter atop his husband’s broom, the rise of bile in his throat mingling with unasked questions, the feathery touch of snow on his eyelashes as he walked with Harry along a lamp-lit street. They swirled together, utter madness individually but sense as a whole, until Gilderoy could take it no more and dragged Harry’s face up by his chin and pressed his mouth firmly across his husband–ex-husband?–'s lips.
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 2:52 pm
Harry felt a sudden relief as Gilderoy caught him in strong arms, pulled him up. He felt washed over by the familiar warmth, safety, love. Harry kissed back immediately, eagerly, aching for the feel and taste of Gilderoy, for the remembrance, needfully grasping him back.
He'd never wanted to divorce, not truly, not deep down, but he hadn't known what else to do. There had been so many good times, but too many bad ones as well, and near the end all there had been was shouting or happy faces for the sake of the children.
And an ache for understanding, for Gilderoy to stay, stay with him, but understand him, to recognize that on the inside Harry was constantly suffering and in turmoil, to recognize that after what he'd gone though, Harry wanted to have an actual life... not be kept inside the house like some sort of doll to care for the house and children. He wanted Gilderoy to understand that he didn't crave the fame from the crowds, the fans, he craved the love, the smiling, living, breathing faces. But that didn't mean they meant more to him than his family, that anything else in the world could ever mean as much.
The children were at school. Xenophilius was at work, had the baby with him. Harry grasped Gilderoy's clothes and pulled himself closer, kissing him with more ferocity. He wanted him, wanted him so badly, missed him so much.
It hurt so bad, going to St. Mungo's to visit him, never knowing from day to day what he'd remember, the good or the bad, if they'd get into a fight. If they'd fight about something they'd already fought about and resolved years before, if old issues would be dragged up and old hurts would be violently torn open again. It had been too much for Harry, and eventually he had gone only to assuage his guilt and often to punish himself, letting Gilderoy yell if he wanted and not making any protests, taking the harsh words into himself, to heart, keeping them there. Letting them fester with his own negative thoughts about himself.
Harry was trying very hard not to sob. He was just so tired of all the tiptoeing and all the lies.
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 3:03 pm
“Liar,” Gilderoy breathed into Harry’s lips, chasing away any hurt the name would cause with his tongue, warm and persistent as it pressed into his mouth. Gilderoy pushed the shorter male back against the edge of a counter, dragging his hand away from Harry’s chin and instead hooking two fingers beneath his knee and yanking Harry’s leg up until his thigh was drawn against Gilderoy’s hip. He broke his mouth away, lowering his face to nuzzle at his ex-husband’s throat, replacing lips with the sensual touch of his tongue again. “Tell me,” he purred, his voice trembling only for a syllable before he swallowed away his inner devastation. He let teeth brush Harry’s skin. “Tell me all of it, Harry.”
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 3:30 pm
And so Harry told him everything. In sad whispers, trying to choke back the feelings when they threatened to overwhelm him.
He told Gilderoy about their fights as he began to gain fame as a Quidditch player, quabbles about not being home for dinner, and about his efforts to try harder and be home, only to find that gradually they weren't enough, about how they would fight even more, about everything. He told him about the good days in-between, about things the children had done that Gilderoy doubtless had forgotten. He told him about his accident, how he had felt, the devastation, the guilt, the longing to turn it back, the wish that it had been him instead.
He explained how the children had reacted, how Adela had grown closer while Godfrey had pushed away, growing into a stranger with actions and thoughts that often frightened him. He told Gilderoy about his visits with him in the hospital, how there were good days and bad ones there too. About how they would have arguments all over again about things already past, and all about how he eventually started coming just to punish himself for being such a failure.
He told him how he hadn't been with anyone since Gilderoy's accident, had gone out and gotten drunk but never managed to be able to make himself have a one night stand with anyone, how he suffered from an addiction to the depressant effects of alcohol, become a disgrace to himself, to his children.
He told him about how he'd met Xenophilius when their old accountant had retired, how calming the man had been, how he seemed to know right away that something was not right, something deeper than his guilt over failing his family. He explained how Xenophilius had calmly confronted him over coffee one day and asked Harry to tell him about everything that had happened in his other world, asked him to confront everything that had happened, to go back to that place again and face the feelings he'd been suppressing for so long.
He told Gilderoy he was sorry he had never told him, that in the early days he'd been so happy to have Gilderoy, have the children, it truly hadn't bothered him. But then the faces started coming back, the images, the dying screams, the varying stenches of death. And it was only worse when he alone in the house, in the quiet. Quidditch had saved his sanity, given him something to occupy his mind. But he still couldn't bring himself to burden Gilderoy with his past, because it was horrible, more horrible than a normal person should be able to imagine.
He and Xenophilius had only been together for a year and a half. They'd been friends for months, nothing else. And then Harry had been feeling so sad and worthless, and he threw himself at Xeno, feeling lower than a worm, less than slime. And Xenophilius had picked him up and just held him, and he cried when he told Harry about the death of his daughter Luna at the hands of Death Eaters before his very eyes, of his failure to protect her because of his own lingering sorrow at the loss of his wife a decade before.
Roddy had been an accident, Harry explained. He knew the one time for him had been a fluke, because of the mushrooms. And Xenophilius had been married, he hadn't suspected that he carried the ability until the symptoms started to appear.
And then Harry told Gilderoy his true feelings about his homecoming, about how it had been like their marriage again, amplified and squashed into a few short weeks. The happiness, the love, the anger, the arguments, the uncertainty, the guilt. He told Gilderoy he still loved him, that he didn't want him to go, that he and Xeno hadn't gone any further than a chaste peck since Gilderoy's return because Harry had been feeling so guilty, because he still loved Gilderoy. And Xeno had just smiled and petted his hair, so mysteriously understanding.
"I'm so sorry. It's all my fault." Harry croaked, his throat raw from all the crying and talking. "If I'd just been able to face my past, to talk to you about it..... we could have avoided all of this."
His hands clung softly to the fabric of Gilderoy's robes, not wanting him to pull away, to go, wanting him to continue holding him, touching him. But willing to let him go, if he wanted to. Gilderoy had summoned up the courage to do it for him, and if he really loved Gilderoy, he could do the same.
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 3:58 pm
Gradually the kissing had given way to gentle, even breathing against Harry’s skin, Gilderoy remaining nuzzled into the male’s neck as Harry confessed his miseries and his shortcomings, outlining the troubled path of their marriage and the emotional rot and decay that had lingered beneath their steps for years. Turbulent emotions stirred in his stomach like water swirling in the bathroom sink, entirely transparent as they never lingered long enough to gain color.
His children had been raised in a broken home. The thought made him ache with sadness – he had devised so many plans for their childhood, hoping to craft it into a life of calm perfection so that they could flower and flourish like blossoms in the spring. And his Harry; his darling Harry had spent years locked away in a dank dungeon by his own shackles, hidden behind cobwebs and stone.
Gilderoy had first squandered his family and then left it to gather sadness and dust in their home.
The thought was almost too much to handle.
“I’d like the chance to fix it,” Gilderoy whispered against Harry’s neck, his muscles stiff and growing sore from holding the same position while Harry told his miserable tale. His voice was hushed and husky. “I’m certain I… we… could.”
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 4:23 pm
Harry was tired, cried out, talked out, but at the moment he felt..... better. Better than he'd felt in many years, hundreds of coils and knots in his stomach unwinding. They were still there, and they'd take work in order to make them disappear completely, but he'd taken a step in the right direction.
There were many issues for them to work over, more things to talk about, days that would need to be gotten through just for the sake of getting through them.
"Please." Harry couldn't help but plead, at the same time letting out a sigh of relief. "Please, we have to at least try."
Harry moved his hands up and wrapped them around Gilderoy's back, hugging him tightly, rubbing it lightly. The smell, the touch, the warmth was all so familiar. He had missed this, missed him.
"We.... we all need to try together." The children- were they even children anymore? They had to be included as well, because they were the innocent ones affected in all of this. There was too much silence in their house, too much quiet and little white lies. Adela appeared to have fared better but Harry knew all too well that it could only be a carefully constructed front. And Godfrey had tuned 180 degrees from where he had been as soon as he started at Hogwarts. But there were still things they needed to talk about together, to do together, as a family. They all had their own problems, thoughts, wishes.
Harry nuzzled his cheek against Gilderoy's shoulder. Things could get better, would get better, as long as they just tried.
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Posted: Sun Mar 28, 2010 5:15 pm
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 7:57 pm
"... why haven't they ever nailed down the furniture on the knight bus?" Godfrey stepped down from the aforementioned bus, hopping down the last step into the dirt and raising a small cloud of dust.
"Well, here's my house. It's not really that big."
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Godfrey Potter-Lockhart Crew
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 9:40 pm
Josh was dressed rather nicely, wanting to at least try and make a good first impression. He was wearing his long sleeve yellow and black striped shirt and jeans with no holes in them. Hair was still spiked up though.
Josh stared over at Godfrey then... UP at the house, taking a deep breath, "If you say so, brat."
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