Dante pulled no punches with his abrupt assessment of his mother’s appearance.  Genny did indeed look like she was flushed, although Leo attributed it to the pressure of the day.  Even so, he maintained a perfectly civil expression, not about to walk into the civil war that would certainly result if he encouraged his son’s rudeness in any way.

“First thing,” he promised with a smile, with a look to Genny.  “I’ll Floo over.  I assume my parents have your address.”  She was no longer living in the same flat that they’d cohabited for so long, that he knew. 

It had been too short a visit, but still far longer than he’d ever imagined he’d get on his first day out.  Somehow, even though it had been only a few short hours since he’d left the gray stone walls of Azkaban for what he hoped was the last time, the cold island prison seemed half a lifetime away.  Now he’d have what was left of his lifetime to rebuild what should have been.

Dante threw himself into another hug, and Leo hugged him back, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms tightly around his son. 

Then all that was left was for them to depart via the fireplace.  Leo watched as his son stepped into the flames, and then glanced at his wife, expecting her to leave as well.  But then she surprised him.

”I was Orpheus.  I lost my faith.”

Leo regarded her silently for a moment, green eyes unreadable.  Orpheus and Eurydice, Romeo and Juliet, Abelard and Heloise, Lancelot and Guinevere.  All part of the long list of doomed lovers about whom they’d once traded banter.

“Perhaps Orpheus should have trusted Eurydice to find her own way out of the Underworld,” he said, with the faintest hint of a smile.  “Give the old story more of a modern take.”

Leo was impossible to read. She had no idea if the kind act was just that, an act. He wanted to see his son and the easiest way to do it was to be civil with his mother. Presently, Gen wasn’t going to fight him seeing Dante because she’d seen how excited the boy was. If Leo was as innocent as he said, there was no reason to keep father from son. But one little move that said he wasn’t innocent, Gen would be moving heaven and earth to keep Dante safe. But Leo had never threatened her. Until the moment in Azkaban where he’d yelled in a furious rage, she’d never had anything to fear from him. But the anger, the books, the annotated article.

Gen looked at her husband and all she could think of was the letter that she’d given to the aurors.


He’d called her a lying bitch all over her book and the article. Lies. Lying. Lied. Every conjugation of the verb to lie. Every use of the noun. And yet here he now was, putting on an act in order to see his son while she felt the overwhelming urge to apologise. Something deep inside her wanted those arms wrapped around her.

“I’d rather write a new story.” The witch gave a shrug and a sad smile. She glanced towards the fireplace. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s the editor’s flat above Witch Weekly, Diagon Alley.”