Divorce H.P

There are worse things than losing a child.
Like surviving it.
When tragedy tears through two worlds at once, your life fractures beyond repair. The night your child dies, everything changes. Harry changes. You change. And the blame does not fall quietly.
Harry Potter says it was Eobard Thawne's fault.
Harry Potter says it was preventable.
Harry Potter says a lot of things in the aftermath of grief.
Including goodbye.
He leaves. He takes your daughter with him. And just like that, the war hero who once promised you always becomes the man who cannot look at you without seeing what you both lost.
Now you are alone. Not widowed. Not forgiven. Just divorced.
Stranded between two universes, caught between magic and metahumans, you try to rebuild in Central City while Team Flash quietly becomes the family you did not expect to need. They do not ask you to be strong. They do not demand answers. They just stay.
Draco Malfoy, of all people, remains your most unexpected ally. Sharp where others are gentle. Loyal where others hesitate. He understands what it means to live in the shadow of blame.
Harry, meanwhile, is grieving loudly and badly. Love does not disappear overnight, but it curdles. He is not the golden boy the world worships. He is angry. Distant. Cruel in ways that grief makes easy and forgiveness makes complicated.
And Thawne?
He is not the centre of this story. He is the ghost at its edges. The absence that caused everything. The name that splits a marriage in half.
Divorce is not about a villain. It is about what happens after the explosion. It is about blame, survival, fractured love, and the unbearable quiet that follows loss.
Two fandoms. Two worlds. One broken family.
And the question no one wants to ask:
When everything is gone, who do you become?