I don’t know what I was expecting. Down, deep down in my heart, I always knew the truth. I knew it since the second the problem began. It’s…it’s funny how I convinced myself over the next few months that nothing was wrong.

He was never home. The house was empty without him. Without my lover. My—our bed was empty without him. Without my lover. It was always meetings and work. Those were the only explanations I received for the late night returns and the early morning disappearances. They were soon easy to justify in my heart. The business trips, however, were difficult. He would disappear for days on end and return only to plant a dry kiss on my cheek and whisper an equally dry “I missed you.” No proper kisses. No hugs. No smile. When my significant other was away the house was cold and lonely. When he was home, it was colder and lonelier. And yet, I refused to accept that there was a problem.

A serious one at that.

It was in Hogwarts, after the end of the war, that we had found each other. It was never love at first sight. But the war had changed our positions as men. And suddenly the two of us found that dropping our immature childhood rivalries was easy and facing each other as equal partners in a relationship even easier. The laughter rolled past our lips as we learnt to be together, as did the proclamations of love.

Marriage was inevitable and came to bind us together for eight priceless years. Eight years of happiness and laughter. Eight years of love and devotion.

Funny how it all changed in the span of merely a few months.

My significant other was away on a business trip to New York and thus, first thing in the morning, I faced an empty bed and a quiet house. We lived on the outskirts of London, which constituted of pleasant mornings with the house bathed in a pale sunlight, and stirred by a slight wind. As I sipped my tea out in the back yard, I could not help but wish that my significant other was with me.

I don’t know what convinced me to go to town that day, but I suppose I had a wish to see the crowds of Diagon Alley again. I drove up there calmly, telling myself that I was going for no other reason but to have a comfortable day in the city. As I walked down the magical lane hours later, holding a ice-cream in my hand, and a bag full of books in the other, I smiled at the feeling of peace; I, of course, ignored the prickling feeling that intruded upon my senses ever so often. It was nighttime when I decided to return home. I was starving, however, therefore, changed my mind, deciding to eat at a fanciful restaurant and then heading home. Dinner was magnificent and after I had attended to my duties as a customer I decided to take a small walk along the road.

And then, as simply as that, I caught sight of him.

 I wonder whether I was so shocked that I actually dropped the bag of books I held. Or whether my mouth fell open aghast. But truly, now that I think about it carefully, I did none of those things. The smallest shocks may cause us to react in such expressive manners, but when you feel your heart shatter and fall apart at your feet, no form of physical manifestation can do it justice.

We had been married for eight year. Been together for nine. And there stood Harry Potter kissing another man, just merely feet away from me, Draco Malfoy.

I wonder why I did not see this coming?

The end of a Love

The beginning of a Divorce