The Years of Riddle

Chapter Thirty-Nine | Lewes, August 1967

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Lewes, August 1967

It was a sunny day; the sort Anthony had fond memories of, picnics and long walks, swimming in the pond. Today, he hoped to make another fond memory – he would tell his children he was gay.

It had been a long time coming, and Anthony had avoided it for a long time. Now however, he had finally fulfilled Gwyn's dying wish – he had found love, with a man.

Hal, to be specific. It had not begun that way, they had been friends first. They saw other people, enjoyed each other's company. Slowly though, love bloomed as love does – quietly, and often without warning.

"We can wait longer," Hal had said, "You have to feel comfortable, I don't want your relationship with your kids to suffer because of me."

"I don't want to hide from them," Anthony had taken Hal's face in his hands, a young, scruffy face with a sunshine smile, and knew it was right. "I love them, and I love you, and I hate to have the things I love most separate from one another."

Hal had still hesitated. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

And now it was the day. Silas had been away on business, and Violet was home from school – it was time. Violet, nearly fourteen, was sprawled across the living room rug, sketching a tiny birds skull. A glance out the window revealed Silas loping across the field to the cottage, smiling broadly. Since becoming engaged to Inesa, he seemed lighter, happier, even as alarming rumours spread through the Wizarding community. Somehow, Silas kept aloof – unlike him, but he had so much to be happy about.

"Pa!" Silas burst through the door, hugged his father tightly. "How've you been?" he asked over his shoulder, already passing through the kitchen to envelope a shining Violet.

"How was America?" asked Violet, still clinging to him. "Tell us everything!"

"How about presents first?" Silas chuckled, and revealed a giftwrapped box from his bag.

"All right, presents first." Violet laughed, and then swooned over the set of beautiful crayon contés.

"And for you, Pa." Silas handed over a glossy book on music in America. Anthony's love for music had never faded, since working in that Muggle music shop all those years ago. He had been coming home from work the night he ran into Gwyn. He told Silas and Violet that, with hushed words.

"We know, Papa." Violet rolled her eyes. "You've told the story a hundred times. Instant connection, right?"

"Right." Anthony smiled, ran his fingers over the glossy cover of the book, heavy in his lap. Now was the moment. "Actually, I have something to tell you guys."

His kids looked up, faces brimming with trust and love, kissed by summer days and glowing with health. He saw Gwyn in their features, and felt her belief in him all over. "I've met someone."

Violet lit up, and she put her pencils down. "Really Pa? That's great!"

Anthony looked over at his son, nervous. "Sy?"

"That's wonderful, Pa." Silas was grinning, and he squeezed his father's knee briefly. "We wondered when you'd get back out there."

"Well, actually...we've been seeing each other for two years in December."

Violet's blue eyes widened, and she stared at her father, then at Silas. "You didn't tell us? Why?"

"It still felt too soon," Anthony tried to explain, desperate. "And – and I needed to make sure I that you both would be comfortable, that I would be comfortable. It's..." he stalled. "It hasn't even been seven years."