It was half eleven at night, and Albus desperately needed a quill. He was only two months away from his O.W.L.s, and his very last quill had just snapped on his Transfiguration revision.
Absently, Albus picked up the quill and used his wand to siphon the splatter of ink off his parchment. He pondered the idea of where to find another quill. He needed to finish this study guide tonight – he was already dreadfully behind schedule – but he couldn’t very well do it without a quill. He doubted his mother had any in the kitchen, as she usually preferred pens to write notes and grocery lists, claiming it was less hassle than a quill. James probably had some, but he was definitely asleep by now, and he hated being woken up; the same went for Lily.
That left only one option. He would have to get one from his father’s study. The thought was disconcerting. Harry Potter was not a man who suffered others snooping through his belongings. Even his own children had been taught never to go into his office when he wasn’t there, due to the dangerous nature of his work. The idea of the study without his father was almost inconceivable to Albus. If he was caught in there, there was no question that he would get in a lot of trouble.
Still, there was nowhere else where he could get a quill at this hour. He levered himself up out of his chair and crossed the room to his bedroom door. He paused there a moment, listening for footsteps on the landing or the floor below. He heard only silence.
Now he had no excuse.
He crept across the ancient wood of the landing, glancing at his parents’ bedroom door before slowly and silently descending the stairs. As he placed his weight on it, the bottom stair creaked loudly. Albus cursed under his breath and hastily stepped off.
The study door was only a few feet away. It stood there, somehow forbidding and innocuous at the same time.
Albus tiptoed across the landing to the door. His hand hovered above the doorknob. Almost hoping that it would be locked, he turned the knob. The door swung open easily.
His nerves jumping, Albus stepped inside. He muttered, “Lumos, “ and the light from his wand illuminated the interior of the study. A portrait of a wizard had another portrait in Headmaster Flitwick’s office blinked sleepily at the light and turned away.
Harry’s desk took up most of one wall. Albus took a couple of steps toward it, then turned and closed the door most of the way. For some reason, he had a feeling that if he shut it all the way, it would seal shut and only open when Harry came down the next morning.
Not wanting to prolong his presence in the room, Albus quickly began rifling through his father’s desk. He found several quills in the first drawer he opened, but they were all battered and very nearly dead.
At the bottom of a drawer on the left-hand side of the desk, behind a few sheets of haphazardly dumped parchment, Albus caught sight of a stack of neatly folded pieces of parchment, tied up in a ribbon. It captivated him for some reason, and he was suddenly overcome with a desire to read whatever the slips of parchment held. He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but honestly, what could it be? The worst he could find would be a bunch of soppy love letters between his parents from back when his father was training to be an Auror and his mother was still at school.
Finally, his curiosity won out over his trepidation. He reached into the drawer and pulled out the small bundle, then sat on the floor. He untied the ribbon, unfolded the first note, and began to read.
He saw at once that they were love letters, but knew just as quickly that they were not between his parents. His father was writing to a woman who signed her letters only as “H”.
The tone of the letters was hesitant at first, as though the two correspondents couldn’t believe they were doing this. His father’s first letter was almost businesslike. The reply from the mysterious “H” said, quite plainly, that there was nothing to discuss. They had kissed, and that was the end of it.
This sent a shock through Albus’ system. The possibility that his father had kissed anyone but his mother – recently, at least – was impossible to comprehend. His parents loved each other. He read on.
Harry had asked “H” if that was true, if she really didn’t have any feelings for him after what had happened. Reluctantly, she had replied that, yes, she did have feelings for him.
And so it went.
The letters slowly built up in passion, until Albus felt his face burning at the words he was reading. At last, his father asked “H” to meet him, alone, at a restaurant in Muggle London. Albus was in school for the date of the meeting. “H” had agreed to meet. After that, there were only two letters. The first, from “H”, read:
My mind hasn’t changed. We cannot keep doing this. It will hurt everyone. I love you, but this needs to stop now. It has already gone too far, and if we keep going down this path we will risk everything.
H
His fingers trembling, Albus unfolded the last note, from his father.
You can’t deny what happened. We have feelings for each other, obviously, and they need to be addressed. If we run away from it, we run the risk of hurting everyone even worse. Please meet me at eleven o’clock in the morning on the twentieth, at the tea shop around the corner from the office.
-Harry
Albus stared at the note for several seconds. He couldn’t believe it. His father was having an affair.
He wondered who the mysterious “H” was. They were obviously close, and she had to work in the Ministry. She had said that the affair would hurt everyone…
No.
The realization hit him like a train, knocking the wind out of him and sending his mind reeling. Of all the women his father could possible have an affair with, none could be worse than this.
“Bloody –“ Albus whispered, in shock.
He wondered why his father hadn’t burned the letters. That was what he would have done. Actually, he wouldn’t have gotten himself in this situation at all; wouldn’t have had an affair, wouldn’t have tried to hide it…
Abruptly, the bottom stair creaked again. Albus gasped, dumped the notes unceremoniously back in their drawer, and then slammed the drawer shut. “Nox,” he whispered, and the light from his wand went out.
It was replaced by the light of the wand held by the figure who was now coming into the room; as the person pushed the door open, it responded with a long, slow moan…
It was his father.
“Albus?”
“I was just looking for a quill,” Albus said, trying to act casual.
“Were you in my desk?” Harry asked.
“Honestly, Dad, I just –“
“Al –“
“Does Mum know?” The question was out before Albus could stop himself.
Harry froze, staring at his son. He slowly shook his head. He blinked once, twice, and Albus could see the thoughts swirling around in his mind.
“Come on,” Harry said. “Let’s go to the kitchen and get some tea.”
They didn’t speak through the mundane ritual of making tea. It was only when they had sat opposite each other at the small, round kitchen table that Albus dared ask a question. “How long has this been going on?”
Harry shrugged, gazing into his tea. Albus stared at him, trying to force eye contact, but he didn’t look up. “Five months, maybe.”
Since before Christmas, then. Bloody hell.
Albus paused for a long moment. “You know, you’ve got to tell her, Dad,” he finally said.
Harry’s brows furrowed, but he still didn’t look up. “I will tell your mother when I think –“
“You’ll tell me what?” asked a voice from behind Harry, and Ginny walked into the kitchen. She was dressed in an old purple bathrobe, and her arms were crossed.
Now Harry looked up, straight into Albus’ eyes. The two pairs of bright green eyes burned into each other. Albus saw on Harry’s face that he knew that if he didn’t tell Ginny, Albus would.
Reluctantly, almost painfully, Harry stood up and turned to face his wife. “Ginny, we need to talk,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And actually, Ron and Hermione should probably be involved too.”
* * *
It wasn’t until three in the morning when Harry finally came up to Albus’ bedroom. Albus was sitting on the edge of the bed, all thought of his Transfiguration revision forgotten.
“They’re gone,” Harry said without preamble. “Your Aunt Hermione has gone home, and Ron – well, actually, I’m not sure where Ron went.” His voice was tight.
“What about Mum?” Albus asked, keeping his voice level.
“She’s in her bed,” Harry replied. “I’m on the sofa tonight, and probably for a good long while.”
“Are you going to –“ Albus trailed off, not daring to ask the question that had burned in his mind for hours.
“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “Your mother is very angry. As she should be.”
“Did you screw her?” Albus demanded.
Harry jerked back, as though he had been struck. “What?”
Albus repeated his question.
Harry dropped his eyes, as though he could no longer hold his son’s gaze. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I did. Your Aunt Hermione and I have been feeling this way since our school years.”
“You slept with my aunt?” Albus gasped. His voice cracked and nearly broke. Suddenly, he was shouting. “You pervert!”
His father’s eyes snapped back to him. “Albus, listen –“ he said in a low voice, almost a growl.
“No, you listen!” Albus yelled. “You never stopped to think what having an affair would do to this family, did you? You and Aunt Hermione just decided to go off and do your thing, and never mind what happens to us!”
“Don’t be stupid,” Harry snapped. “Of course we knew what the consequences could be.”
“And you did it anyway.” Albus had stopped shouting. “I don’t even know why you lied, Dad. You know, maybe if you’d gone to Mum and told her what happened before any of this started –“
“You think I haven’t thought that?” Harry asked wearily. “I have thought of every possible way that this could have been prevented.”
“Pity you weren’t thinking that five months ago,” Albus said acidly.
Harry slumped his shoulders. “Albus, please –“
“No,” Albus refused flatly. “I’m angry at you, Dad. Sod off!”
Harry stared at his son, defeated. He turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him.
After a moment, Albus got up and turned off his light, then returned to his bed. He lay back, still in his clothes from the day before. He doubted either of his parents was asleep, but he didn’t really want to speak to either of them. It would be another five hours before Lily and James were up. He wondered idly who would tell them.
For a long time, he wondered whether he was glad he had found out, or if he would have rather never known. The truth was, indeed, better than living with a false impression of his father. However, he liked the false impression a lot better than the one he had discovered tonight…
Albus stared up at his dark ceiling. It was going to be a very long night.
Truth Indeed by Apollonious
Chapter Endnotes: Please note that I do not ship Harry/Hermione, and this is a one-time deal. I'm sorry if I've offended anybody. I hope you enjoy it, and please leave a review.
Thank you!