Chapter Text
“Good morning.”
You blink awake, glaring at your husband, who is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, fully dressed as he stands at the foot of your bed. “Why are you awake right now?”
“It’s Christmas.”
Rolling over, you pull the covers over your head. “Despite residing in a castle full of them, we have no children, so there is no reason to be up so early.”
“That’s not very merry of you,” Sebastian says — you can hear the frown in his voice. “Get up. We’re going to Hogsmeade.”
You squint at him. “It’s cold,” you shoot back. “Come back later.”
He grabs a fistful of the duvet, tugging at it lightly. “It could be colder.”
It’s his bad arm — you recognize the stiffness in his shoulder, always worse in the winter — and that’s enough to make you sit up, frowning. “Did you use the salve?”
Sebastian releases the duvet, rolling his eyes. “You worry too much, love,” he says. “It’s barely sore.”
Barely, he should know by now, is never good enough for you. Leaning over, you open the drawer of your nightstand, motioning for him to sit.
“You just want to see me shirtless,” he jokes as he undoes the buttons, tossing it aside once he’s done.
You unscrew the cap of the salve and take a scoop, warming it between your hands as you roll your eyes. “I see you shirtless plenty.”
“Clearly it’s very motivating if it got you awake,” Sebastian shoots back as you begin massaging the salve into his shoulder.
“Of course,” you agree. “It’s not as though worry for my husband’s longstanding injury played any role whatsoever.”
“I told you it’s fine — ” he starts to say, breaking off when your thumb massages the salve into the scar just under the edge of his left collarbone. “That feels nice, actually.”
“St. Mungo’s recommended it for a reason,” you remind him.
“Yeah, but you’d think it’s been long enough — ”
“ — It’s been four years,” you say, wiping what remains of the salve onto the rest of his shoulder. “They said there would be long-term effects.”
Sebastian frowns, reaching for his shirt and beginning to button it. “Four years is long-term.”
“They also said that a lot of it isn’t going to be the same as before,” you add, kissing his cheek. “Stubborn man.”
“Stubborn wife,” he replies, kissing your temple. “Now get dressed. We’re going to Hogsmeade.”
You stand, stepping forward to rummage through the tiny dresser included in your staff quarters — while you and Sebastian technically have separate rooms, his is more an office than anything else. You can’t sleep without each other — and besides, you shared an even smaller space before you were promoted to full-fledged professors last year, finally old enough to teach the seventh-years without awkwardness.
“What’s in Hogsmeade that’s so important?” you ask, donning a new set of drawers and chemise before drawing your corset around you.
“You’ll have to see about that,” he replies as you tighten your corset slightly, tying it in front. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t mind.
“Mysterious,” you say, yawning as you draw your corset cover over your head. “Nothing bad, I hope.”
“I think you’ll like it,” Sebastian says.
You button the sleeves of your shirtwaist, then draw your skirt over your hips and turn to look at him.
His cheeks flush slightly, gaze snapping to your eyes. “Shall I grab your coat?”
“I’d appreciate it,” you say, smiling at him.
* * *
Sebastian holds your hand as you walk through Hogsmeade together, but he still refuses to tell you where he’s taking you, exactly.
“Madam Snellings?” you guess. “Do you want me to weigh in on your next haircut?”
“No,” he replies.
“Pippin’s? Do you trust his contraceptive brews more than mine?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not Pippin’s.”
“So you do trust Pippin’s brews!” you say. “Awfully callous of you not to trust your own wife when I’ve been brewing them since I was — ”
“ — No need to announce our activities to the entire street, love,” Sebastian says, rolling his eyes fondly as he leads you over the river.
“I brewed them in my parents’ shop,” you remind him. “They didn’t tell me what the potion was for, but I’ve known the recipe for ages.”
At that, you pass the Magic Neep, and you squeeze his hand. “Flowers?”
Sebastian stops walking, squeezing your hand in return. “Try again.”
You’ve come to a stop outside of one of the houses at the edge of the village. It’s tall — two floors and an attic, just at a glance — with a rickety chimney and a large yard around it. From the hill, you can see the entirety of Hogsmeade, and the spires of the castle in the distance.
“A house?” you ask, looking over at him.
Sebastian flushes pink. “I wanted to talk to you first, so I haven’t put in any formal offers,” he says, “but I’ve been reviewing our finances, and with the staff quarters having saved us so much, we could afford it. The owner’s widowed — wants to sell it to a young couple.”
The like us goes unspoken.
“It’s beautiful,” you say, looking back at the house.
There’s enough space for a garden in the yard while still having some open space, and the big tree at the edge of the lot casts a canopy of shade over part of the grass. You can imagine a life here — Flooing back and forth to the castle each day, Agnes visiting only to fuss over your furniture, growing dittany in window-boxes to add some color.
Still, two floors is a lot for just you and Sebastian.
You turn to him. “Isn’t it a bit big, though?”
He flushes darker, and you adore that even after five — nearly six — years together, you still get to have such an effect on him. “I thought we’d have room to grow,” he says. “Not that we’d need to grow right away, but it’d make a good family home. Someday.”
You’ve discussed children here and there – vaguely — since you were seventeen, but now, the idea doesn’t seem so far away.
Sebastian’s freckles and your eyes. Sputtering laughter. Calls of mummy and daddy in the night. Agnes’ inevitable delight. Footsteps on floorboards and small hands next to yours in the garden.
You kiss him gently. “I couldn’t agree more.”