“Do not look for healing at the feet of those who broke you.”
~ Rupi Kaur

She’d slept five times since they’d made the mutual decision to finally end their marriage. She’d woken up five times with this knowledge hanging over her head like an executioners’ blade. Of course, Irene Carstairs wouldn’t be visiting any executioner, but her life as she knew it was set to change forever.

Some of the last evenings, when Solomon had actually been home, had been spent deciding how to handle the entire situation.It may have been surprising to most who’d experienced a separation, but their discussions had been amicable. The heat and emotion had been thrown at the deciding discussion, after all. After that night, Irene’s own emotions had been kept locked down, only revealing themselves when she was alone. It was her head she needed now, not her heart.

How they were to tell the children had been one of the things decided upon late one of these nights. While Cynthia and Earnest were now grown adults, neither living under the roof of Mum and Dad, it would be an unwelcome shock to both. With the world burning around them during the war, during Irene’s transformation, during the revelation of Solomon’s affairs, their parents had not once mentioned the words separation, their mother and father’s love had been a constant for them, especially because Irene had stayed.

Dinner had gone how dinner always did, with usual discussion of juicy gossip regarding extended members of the family, Cynthia’s exploits as a rather unsuccessful artist, Solomon’s exhausting work schedule, Irene’s current project, and Earnest’s love life, quidditch life, and allowance woes.

Dinner had been so ordinary that Irene might have been forgiven for almost forgetting the news she and her soon to be ex-husband had to share with the children they’d raised in this very home.

It was well past twilight hours when they retired to the lounge for some after dinner drinks. Irene was sitting in her usual spot on the large leather sofa when the drinks materialised on the coffee table and Solomon handed her a tumbler. Tonight, even Irene had chosen a firewhiskey over a glass of port. She shared a knowing look with her husband before looking across the room and pressing her lips together. These words would forever change the dynamics of their family, and she had no idea how Cynthia and Earnest would react.

“We need to talk to you both. Sit down.”

Earnest's regular quidditch season was winding down and he ought to be heading into some more free months, but things were only getting busier for the national team. Nevertheless, Sunday family dinners were as sacred a ritual as he maintained and continued to be able to duck away and Floo to Cambridgeshire to carry on as ever.

"I don't see Uncle Oz so I take it I don't have to move flats again," he said pouring himself something generous and already prepared from a carafe. Things had been going well for Earnest: with Quidditch, with Raine Almasy, and with his plans with Augusta Wilde. Immature blow-ups at a recent dinner seemed ages gone now.

He took his drink to the couch, smoothed his trousers and settled in.

"Or is Cynthia pregnant again?" he peered at his sister, to see if she appreciated his snipping.

He settled on the armchair next to the sofa, crystal tumbler in hand, and tried not to think about the bubble they were imminently about to burst.

Solomon had found the last few days to be draining - in addition to work, having to come home and go over the initial details of their divorce. Mostly immediate practicalities; he would leave the long and large of it to Oz, eventually.

       "Or is Cynthia pregnant again?" his son quipped as the family got comfortable.
"Oh, sod off." Cynthia stuck out her tongue, glaring over the rim of her wine glass.

The children were in typical form.

Things were going well for Earnest and, while she might grapple with ambition, Cynthia hardly suffered many hardships in her day-to-day. She perched herself on the sofa arm to look at them expectantly.

Sol didn't think there was any point in prevaricating. They had already sat through an entire meal without bringing it up.

"Your mother and I have decided to divorce," he announced, matter-of-fact, and glanced at Irene. "We wanted to tell you both first. There will be a public statement, when we're ready."

Earnest was gobsmacked. All he could do for a moment was move to the edge of his seat and search his mother's expression for any hint at what she might be feeling.

"You arsehole," he said to his father. "After what you've done, you're putting her out. All this about appearances and dignity and and and and maturity, you're -"

Earnest's usual eloquence had evacuated and he stammered off. He couldn't believe it. If this was going to happen, it was going to happen a year ago. And when it didn't - when things actually started to seem better between his parents - Earnest thought they were out of the woods. It didn't make sense.

"But why?" came Cynthia's voice which was hard but nearly about to waver.

“Earnest!” She reprimanded before Solomon had a chance. While they hadn’t expected Cynthia and Earnest to take it well, Irene found her son’s reaction to be marginally insulting to her as well as his father. To think her enough of a doormat to roll over and let her husband kick her out of the home she’d love in for more than 30 years.

“No one is putting anyone out of anywhere. This is a mutual decision.” Even if Irene had been distraught about it a few nights previous, she knew it was the right decision. Like a broken teapot in a muggle home, Solomon and Irene were broken beyond repair and not even an answer to her burning question would truly put them back together. The cracks would still be there, the teapot would remain weakened.

Next, Irene’s blue eyes shifted to Cynthia who looked less angry, more shocked.
“Because it’s the right thing to do for both of us.” She sighed, glancing quickly to Solomon before turning back to the two they were dealing the news to. “Your father betrayed my trust. There’s no going back from that. A marriage without trust isn’t one either of us want to stay in.”

He anticipated some anger, though Earnest's reaction rather caught him off guard with its directness. Solomon was too surprised to even feel upset about it - and then Irene was talking, explaining to them that it was in fact a decision made in tandem.

       "A marriage without trust isn’t one either of us want to stay in.”
"Well yes, but you can't ju--" Cynthia started in an uneven voice, stopped, and then got up to neck her wine.

"We have been trying to make it work." Solomon clarified after a sip of his own drink. "And we are through trying. While things will never be the way they were before, I want you two to know we're still a family."

He wasn't going to touch on his betrayal or Irene's frustrations - having had enough of that at counseling, Sol didn't really think of it as their children's business.

"It will take some getting used to." Sol added with a glance at his (for now) wife. "But it will be alright."

Someone will have to point out to Earnest why what he'd said had upset his mother but the fact that he had was clear enough and so Earnest pursed his lips shut and composed himself. It was easier to be calm when Cynthia could tag in with her own emotional response.

Solomon's counseling now made Earnest feel thirteen again, when there'd been some change in his father's career that meant he'd miss a family holiday or something. Earnest couldn't remember the details but it did make him feel like rushing off and slamming a door. It was funny how this happened, how family issues could send everyone reverting to more vulnerable decades.

Earnest settled back into the couch and regarded his parents with a deliberate coolness. He had questions, but he realized he didn't care. He was a grown man throwing a fit over his parents' divorce, as if there was going to be joint custody or something. He very said something that his mother should get her own lawyer because Uncle Oz would be no help to her, but he was savvy enough to know that this wasn't the time or place for that comment, especially after calling his father an arsehole.

"Oh, I'm sure. Many --" Earnest began, but Cynthia interrupted.

"Everyone's going to know now," she said. "They're going to pick through our bones over this."

"Dry your tears; no one is going to bother you, Cynthia."

There was a stark selfishness to Cynthia’s response that sat really uncomfortably with Irene. This was what happened when your children were fed with a silver spoon and given anything they asked for. They’d raised spoilt children who’d become spoiled adults. Irene usually would have had a quiet word to redirect her adult children, but this comment from her daughter went a little too far.

“Thank you for your overwhelming concern, Cynthia, very thoughtful of you.” she retorted, sarcastically. Trust her daughter to make it about herself. “Your Dad will write a statement, as he said. No details. I won’t be talking to the press,” That much was obvious as Irene actively avoided reporters. She’d always been uncomfortable with the attention brought by being Solomon’s wife. “And neither will you pair. Not about our private matters. It’s no one’s business but mine and your Dad’s.”

Would it be wrong to be reservedly looking forward to regaining her privacy? They’d not even discussed the situation with her Ministry shadow and if she’d be free from that need.

Cynthia rolled her eyes as she moved to the drinks table to pour out more wine for herself. It was such a distinctly adolescent expression that Solomon felt quite fond of her, despite the circumstances.

He didn't bother to correct his wife - the statement would be written by multiple persons, really - and simply nodded along.

"Yes, there will be the usual fuss in the media," Sol smiled grimly at his family, "but do try to rise above it. In the big picture of things, I promise this signifies very little."

Neither Irene nor their children ever went into Ministry work. The children were still children during the second war, his wife had not fought it in the same way. Their present lives were seemingly upended by gossip rags and cheap harlots.

But times were changing - with what he was learning now about CAWW, and even the tensions within their own borders. It all felt eerily familiar.

       "So we're just to pretend everything's alright?" Cynthia returned with her full glass. "That will work brilliantly."

"It will get us through the days, weeks and months." Solomon pointed out smoothly. "Keep calm and don't give the vultures anything to pick at, dear."

Earnest sat and stewed. His brief outburst had not been satisfying. Both of his parents seemed so annoyed and weary of he and his sister, like they were just an additional facet of this divorce that had to be managed alongside the press and the finances. Nothing was coming up clearly as what he wished would have happened. Earnest had gotten used to resenting his father and his secrets and maybe he'd fantasized that somehow he'd get his comeuppance, but he'd never really considered what that would look like. A civil divorce presented as a joint decision was hardly it, though.

"Fuck," he muttered and picked lint from his knee.

"If this is what you both want," he said and didn't finish the sentence. "Is that it?"

She remained silent for a moment, looking into her own tumbler of firewhiskey. None of this was what Irene wanted, but she wasn’t going to verbalise that to her children. She’d married with the thought that it would be until death do us part. Solomon’s actions had prevented that.

“For now,” Irene responded to her son. “There’s a lot we will need to sort so nothing will be immediate.” Solomon hadn’t even moved out yet, and that would take time. It wasn’t as if that made much difference; they hadn’t shared a bedroom for years, and he was barely home, anyway.

Solomon’s comment about this signifying very little in the big picture stung, but Irene didn’t let anything on. It was yet another situation where he prioritised the importance of his work and his own position over their relationship. Another reason to end it now before she resented him even more. This didn’t signify little to her, it signified the end of something that should have been good. Something that her husband destroyed.

“I’m just sorry to disappoint you both.” The witch finally said with a shrug. She was done with the conversation for now. What else was there to tell them both on the matter?

He sighed softly, acknowledging the general ambience of discontent that this news had brought about. Cynthia sank into the far end of the sofa and cradled her wine sulkily.

       "We're not children, mum..." she muttered with a distinctly childish air. "We understand."

With their heads, though Solomon suspected it would take some time before everyone could think of this divorce without feeling discomfort. He glanced at Irene and allowed himself, for a moment, to feel the full weight of what they were doing. They had been married for most of his life - a single unit.

And even after he told her about the affairs, it had still felt like they were holding on. Looking in different directions, perhaps, but not apart. Now they intended to let go.

"This will all turn out for the best," he shifted his gaze from her, to smile at daughter and then son. "I'm certain of it."