The Years of Riddle

Chapter Thirty-Three | London, December 1964

Chapter Thirty-Three

London, December 1964

It had been a long time since Anthony was this nervous about something. Standing in the chilly streets, existing in the shadows, he felt his stomach churn with anxiety. He had promised Gwyn he would try to find love – with a man – after she passed, but so far he had not even had the heart to try. Tonight however, he was making an attempt. If not at love, then meeting others like him.

The bar was one he had heard of through some very sneaky searching. It was for Wizards, and looked pleasant enough, rather empty on a Tuesday night. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the street and entered. No one looked at him, except the bartender who shot him a welcoming smile. It was like any other pub, except there were men with arms around other men, comfortable and secure with beers and chips in front of them.

Pushing his fear away, Anthony approached the bar and sat at a stool, quickly ordering the first beer he saw. His heart was beating incredibly fast, so much he worried it might burst. The blood rushing in his ears was almost roaring, and he was about to abandon his beer when someone tapped his shoulder.

"You all right?"

It was a man. Not young, nor old, just a simple man wearing a suit and tie, with a bit of a shadow on his chin and eyes like a summer day.

"Yeah." Anthony breathed out. Men were not usually scary, in a setting where he was a straight, respectable guy with two kids and a dead wife. Here he was anonymous.

"First time?" he sounded kind. His nose was a little crooked, and he had a firm jaw. Anthony stared.

"Obvious is it?"

"Only a little," he grinned and stuck out his hand. "I'm Hal."

"Anthony." No one used last names here, he knew that. "Do you – ah – frequent this place?"

Hal laughed, loudly and in a short burst. "Sort of. Yourself?"

"Never." He hesitated. "I'm not...out, see."

"Not many are."

It was easy to talk to Hal, who had a gentle personality and a loud, pleasing laugh and open eyes. "My folks keep asking when I'm getting married," he shook his head, then noticed the ring on Anthony's finger, face falling. "You're married?" he sounded hurt.

"Oh, goodness." Anthony had forgotten about his wedding band; it felt wrong not to wear it, but he really should have taken it off. "Not anymore. My wife, she – she died."

Hal's eyes widened. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"We were married for over twelve years." he smiled sadly and fiddled with the ring. "She was my best friend, and we married for reasons other than love – she was pregnant, I'm gay. No other person would have ever wanted us."

"And you were happy?"

"Very happy." Going into his wallet, he pulled out the picture he kept there; Gwyn, Silas and Violet, on a trip to the sea before she got really sick. "We had Violet together, and that's Silas."

"What's her name?" Hal seemed genuinely interested, not shocked that he was being shown photos of Anthony's family.

"Gwyn." It felt good to say her name aloud. "We made a life together, and enjoyed it. We had fun, loved our kids, and were normal by some extent. And then she got sick, her heart was weak." He explained, eyes still strained on Gwyn's face, caught in the first moments of laughter.

They talked of other things, Hal's photography business, Violet and Silas, growing up gay. Hal had started Hogwarts in Anthony's sixth year, making him feel rather old, but it was also nice. It felt good to be open, to have someone who understood. It was late when Hal finally stood up and slid a card across the bar.

"I'm sure you have those kiddos to get home to," he was smiling still. "But call me."

"They go to boarding school, they'll be home in two weeks." Anthony glanced at the card, but didn't touch it.

"Then that's two weeks for you to call." Hal put the card right into his hands. "Sometimes its good to just have a friend, Anthony. Have a good night, I really enjoyed chatting."

Anthony walked around London for a long time that evening, holding Hal's card in his pocket. It had been a good night, the world had not ended – and he had made a friend. "I hope this is good enough for now, Gwynnie." He said to the stars, wishing for a response, a sign. All he got was a rare, warm breeze, the smell of fresh bread being made before sunrise. It was enough.

A/N: Ohhh Anthony! Stepping out of his shell a little!

Question: What will become of Anthony, and of Hal? Will Violet and Silas ever learn of this?

Rose