Work Text:
The café smelled like damp wool and roasted beans, a warm, earthy mix that wrapped around you like a well-worn cloak. Outside, the narrow cobblestones of Diagon Alley gleamed slick under the steady drizzle, each drop splashing softly against the crooked shop fronts. The tall, ancient clock tower loomed nearby, its weathered face barely visible through the misty veil. The windows were fogged from the rain, blurring the bustling street into a swirling palette of muted grays and smoky blues.
You’d chosen a corner table, half-hidden behind a stone pillar. Ominis sat beside you, fingers resting lightly on the handle of his cup, his gaze calm but alert, watching the world through the haze.
Outside, figures hurried past the window, their cloaks pulled tight against the damp chill. A young witch with wild curls tucked under a soaked hood darted past, clutching a stack of parchments, her boots splashing through puddles. A tall wizard in a deep green cloak paused briefly beneath a crooked lamppost, shaking rain from his pointed hat before vanishing down a narrow alleyway. Children scurried by in a chaotic rush, their laughter muffled beneath scarves, chasing each other with sticky fingers gripping sugary treats from a nearby sweet shop. Every so often, a tired-looking shopkeeper in a patched apron shuffled along, shoulders hunched, eyes flicking toward the clock tower as if marking the passage of time.
The hurried footsteps, the swirl of wet cloaks, and the soft patter of rain outside blended into a quiet symphony, a restless rhythm that stood in stark contrast to the cozy, muted warmth wrapping around you and Ominis inside the café, untouched by the cold world beyond the fogged windows.
Then, the door creaked open. You didn’t need to look up. The scrape of boots against the floor, the brief, hesitant pause, there was no mistaking it.
Sebastian stood there for a moment, rain still clinging to his dark hair, scanning the room until his gaze settled on you. His expression remained steady, calm almost, but his eyes betrayed him, too awake, too full of something restless and urgent.
“Morning,” you said softly as he approached.
He nodded, took the seat beside the window. For a few seconds, all you heard was the rain hitting glass.
“Didn’t think you’d come,” Sebastian watched you for a moment before his gaze flickered towards Ominis. His tone wasn’t sharp, but it carried a weight.
“I wasn’t sure I should,” you admitted. “But I said I would.”
The waitress came and went. Tea arrived. Sebastian didn't move to touch it.
Sebastian finally broke the silence. “I couldn’t sleep.”
You smiled faintly. “Neither could I.”
He looked at you then, first at the two rings, then at your face, gaze lingering as if memorizing the small changes time had made. “You look good,” he said. “Older, maybe. Calmer.”
“Life does that.”
Ominis’s hand brushed yours. You didn’t move away, and that small gesture told Sebastian more than anything else could.
He swallowed hard, eyes flickering down to the rim of his cup as if it grounded him. “About last night-”
“There’s nothing to explain,” you said, voice steady. “You voiced what you needed to.”
Sebastian lifted his gaze back to you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that cut through the quiet hum of the café. “I meant it,” he said firmly, each word deliberate, heavy with conviction. There was no room for doubt or retreat in his tone, he wasn’t simply repeating words; he was staking a claim, making sure you understood exactly how serious he was.
His look held something almost desperate, as if he needed you to feel the weight behind his confession, to know that this wasn’t just talk. It was something real, something he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, take back.
“I know.” You lifted the cup to your lips, the warmth of the tea a small comfort against the chill in the air. “That’s what makes it harder.”
The words hung between you, thick and heavy, like smoke curling in slow spirals, intangible yet suffocating.
Sebastian leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Do you ever think about what might’ve been?”
You turned your gaze to the rain-streaked window, watching the world blur beyond the glass. “When we were at Hogwarts, I… I used to. I thought if I waited long enough, something would change. You’d change.”
He met your eyes, steady now, and said quietly, “I did.”
There was a pause, an unspoken truth lingering between the two of you.
You didn’t look away. “Much too late.”
Ominis shifted beside you, the faintest movement, never intrusive, always steady, like an anchor holding the fragile balance of the moment.
Sebastian ran a hand wearily over his face, the gesture raw, worn from sleepless nights and heavy regrets. “You don’t understand what it was like for me then. I thought keeping you at arm’s length was for the best. I thought-”
“You thought wrong, Sebastian.”
Your voice was soft, almost gentle, but beneath it lay a sharp edge, quiet but undeniable. The words struck deeper than any shout ever could.
He winced, the weight of your truth settling on him like a stone in his chest.
You went on, your voice almost gentle. “Do you remember the day I went out with Andrew Larson? The day you spent with Samantha Dale?”
He closed his eyes. “Don’t.”
“I have to,” you said. “Because that was the moment I stopped hoping. Watching you with her, and with every girl before her… I was almost convinced you didn’t want me, and even then, I held out hope that I was wrong. I went out with Larson just to get a reaction, anything from you. Like a fool, I thought you stopping me from kissing him was you showing that you cared. Do you remember what you said to me then? You told me you cared about me... like a sister. That’s when I understood what it felt like to be invisible to someone you loved.”
The air between you tightened. Rain tapped against the glass like a metronome.
He whispered, “How did you get over it?”
You considered the question, watching the city blur through the window. “The pain was there for a long time. I just got used to the weight of it. And then, one day, I realized I wasn’t carrying it anymore.”
He looked at you then, as if trying to find a trace of what you’d felt, the girl who once burned for him. But all he saw was distance: the quiet, solid kind that wouldn’t crumble.
Ominis finally spoke softly. “Sebastian, I told you once that you’d regret it if you kept running. I wish I’d been wrong.”
Sebastian gave a small, humorless laugh. “You usually aren’t.”
“I was wrong about one thing,” Ominis said. “I thought she’d never forgive you.”
You looked at Ominis sharply, but he didn’t turn.
“I did,” you said, voice low. “But forgiveness isn’t the same as wanting something back.”
Sebastian’s jaw worked, like he was chewing on something he couldn’t swallow. “I don’t want your forgiveness.”
“Yes,” you said. “You do. You just don’t know what to do with it now that you have it.”
Silence. The clock outside struck noon.
Ominis rose first, setting his napkin down with deliberate care. You followed quietly, while Sebastian remained seated, hands clasped tightly as if his legs might betray him.
At the door, you paused and glanced back. “You should go home, Sebastian.”
He met your eyes, that same flicker of boyish defiance still lingering beneath the years. “I don’t have one.”
“Then find one… you deserve a home, Seb.” You looked at him like a painting you’d once cherished, familiar, but no longer yours.
And then you left.
Sebastian stayed seated long after your footsteps faded, long after the tea grew cold and the waitress approached to clear the cups. He didn’t stop her.
Outside, the clock tower tolled again, steady, indifferent.
He listened until the last chime fell silent.