diamond

She had long since decided that Divination was a load of absolute bollocks.

That opinion had not changed in the two years she’d suffered through the subject, and it certainly wasn’t changing now, as she sat in the sweltering, incense-filled tower classroom, staring into a scrying mirror that refused to show her anything more exciting than her own increasingly irritated reflection.

The only thing that made this torment even remotely bearable was that Sebastian was equally as miserable.

He sat across from her, elbow propped on the table, chin in hand, gazing into his own mirror with a half-lidded expression of utter disinterest. His wand tapped lazily against the wooden surface, the rhythmic thudding just quiet enough to avoid Professor Onai’s attention but loud enough to let his Divination partner know that he was at his limit.

“We should have taken Ancient Runes.” She muttered, scowling at her mirror.

Sebastian snorted. “I’d rather swallow a live doxy.”

“Doxy venom is toxic.”

“Exactly.”

She smirked despite herself, but her irritation returned as Onai’s soft voice cut through the hazy air.

“Now.” Their professor intoned, drifting between the rows of students. “As you gaze into the mirror, allow the vision to come naturally. Do not force it. The truth will reveal itself in time.”

She bit her tongue to stop herself from blurting out something deeply unkind to Natty's mother.

She stole a glance at Sebastian, who caught her eye and immediately exaggerated his movements - rolling his shoulders back, puffing out his chest, waving his fingers over his mirror as though he were about to summon a grand revelation.

She snorted, kicking him under the table. He barely stifled his grunt.

“Focus, Mister Sallow,” Onai instructed without even looking at them.

She sighed and propped her chin on her hand, staring blankly into the mirror again.

Feeding off Sebastian's immature energy, she decided to play along.

With an exaggerated sigh, she leaned forward, placing both hands on the mirror’s frame, her voice adopting a dramatic, ethereal quality.

“Oh, I see a handsome man.” She divined theatrically. “He’s outside in a lush, green backyard, playing with - oh, what’s this? Three children? Oh, how picturesque!”

Sebastian snorted beside her.

Professor Onai exhaled sharply through her nose but paused and regarded the spectacle with an unimpressed arch of her brow.

Emboldened, she continued. “Yes, yes, I see it now. It’s all very romantic. There’s a house, and the sun is shining, and he’s just so devastatingly handsome -”

And then, quite suddenly, something shifted.

The mirror’s surface rippled like disturbed water, and her words died in her throat as the teasing, hazy image she’d been pretending to see became something real.

She didn’t mean to, but she leaned closer, breath catching as the vision came into focus.

The backyard was real.

The children were real.

The summer warmth, the laughter, it was all so vivid. And the man…

She couldn’t see his face.

There was something blocking it, something her mind refused to process. She could see the dark hair, the way he moved, the way he felt so familiar, but her brain refused to give her the final piece.

She reeled backward like she’d been burned.

The mirror stilled, and the vision was gone.

Sebastian, unaware of her momentary existential crisis, let out a low whistle. “Three kids? Planning for a rather fertile future, are we?”

She blinked at him, still disoriented, her heart pounding unreasonably fast.

“I -” She swallowed thickly. “I was joking.”

Sebastian smirked. “Did you see who the handsome mystery man was? Or shall I assume it was me?”

She choked on her own spit.

He grinned, smug, leaning forward on his elbows. “Well, I am handsome.”

Her brain was short-circuiting. No thoughts. Just panic.

“It wasn’t - it wasn’t you!” She sputtered, face burning.

His smirk only widened. “You hesitated.”

She gaped up at him, completely and utterly scandalized. “I - fuck off, Sebastian!”

Several students turned to stare.

Onai sighed deeply.

“That will be detention.”

She let out a strangled noise of frustration and slammed her forehead onto the desk.

Sebastian, completely unbothered, was still grinning.

She spent the rest of the lesson glowering into her mirror, refusing to so much as glance at Sebastian.

Not that it stopped him from staring at her.

He was still smirking, still far too pleased with himself, lounging in his chair like the absolute menace that he was. She could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, waiting for her to crack, to react, to give him something he could use to wind her up even more.

She would not.

She was a pillar of self-control.

A paragon of restraint.

Except for the fact that her face still felt hot and her pulse still hadn’t settled since her actual vision had so rudely forced itself into existence.

Because that’s what it was. A vision.

Not some fabricated nonsense she'd conjured to mock the class.

She’d seen something real.

And the fact that she hadn’t seen his face - that was the worst part.

Her brain had blocked it out.

She hadn’t been able to see him clearly, but the rest had been so vivid - the feeling of happiness.

Of belonging.

And she knew the man had been familiar.

Too familiar.

So familiar, in fact, that her subconscious had refused to process it.

And that was terrifying.

Because if she couldn’t even admit to herself who it had been…

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will away the spiraling mess of her thoughts.

It doesn’t matter. It was just a vision. Doesn’t mean it’s real. Futures aren't even set in stone - I can just be a bog hermit and not get married at all...

She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

You are fine. Everything is fine. You are not losing your mind over this.

She finally opened her eyes, feeling slightly more composed -

Only to find Sebastian still watching her.

Her composure shattered instantly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?!” She hissed, whipping her head toward him.

Sebastian blinked, all innocence. “Like what?”

“Like that!” She gestured wildly at his entire smug existence.

He grinned. “Oh, you mean like I’m wondering why you’re so flustered over a vision about a handsome man and three children?”

Her eye twitched.

“I am not flustered.”

Sebastian tilted his head, humming, unconvinced. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She let out a slow breath.

Do not commit a murder in the middle of class. That would be frowned upon.

But he wasn’t letting it go.

“So…” He continued, clearly enjoying himself, “if it wasn’t me, then who was it?”

Her mouth opened, then closed like a gaping fish.

She had absolutely nothing, which only made his grin widen.

“It was no one.” She snapped, crossing her arms. “It was vague and indistinct and meaningless.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t sound vague.”

She clenched her jaw. “It was.”

He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “Funny. Because you sounded very sure about the whole ‘three children, idyllic backyard, devastatingly handsome husband’ thing.”

Her face was on fire.

“I was mocking the process, Sebastian.”

He nodded sagely. “Right. And in the process, you happened to have a vision about your future family.”

“I swear to Merlin.” She seethed, gripping the edge of the desk so hard she thought she might snap the wood.

“Do you think I was in it, and that’s why you panicked?” He asked, tone far too casual, his grin positively wicked.

“I did not panic!”

“Oh, you definitely panicked.”

“I hate you “ She hissed, her face burning.

“You hesitated, love.”

“Fuck off, Sallow!”

Onai sighed from across the room.

“That will be another detention.”

She groaned, slumping forward onto the desk.

Sebastian, meanwhile, was grinning like he’d won the House Cup.

-

Later that evening, she sat in an empty classroom, aggressively polishing the already-pristine wood of the student desks, her muttering just barely audible.

Sebastian, sitting his ass on the desk next to the one she was polishing, was watching her with the same amusement that he had been all day.

“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” She snapped, glaring at him.

He grinned, stretching out lazily. “I am. I’m enjoying the sight of you suffering.”

She threw her rag at him.

He caught it effortlessly before tossing it onto another desk.

“Honestly, you brought this upon yourself.” He said, tutting. “Swearing in class? Such reckless behavior.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You deliberately provoked me.”

He placed a dramatic hand over his heart. “Me? I would never.”

She scowled, resuming her furious scrubbing.

Sebastian watched her for another moment, his smirk softening slightly as he tilted his head. “You are flustered, though.”

She froze, her grip tightening on the rag.

Sebastian slid off the desk, stepping closer, his voice lower now. “You saw something, didn’t you?”

She said nothing.

His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “Something real. Something you’re afraid to admit.”

She positively glowered at him.

Sebastian exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You know, for someone who hates Divination, you’re taking this very seriously.”

She turned slowly, glaring up at him. “I don’t take it seriously.”

He studied her for a moment, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Sure.” He practically sang. “Whatever you say.”

-

She was going to murder Sebastian Sallow.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Possibly with the very rag she was still clutching in her hands.

Her knuckles were white around it as she violently scrubbed at the already gleaming surface of the desk, trying - and failing - to ignore the smug bastard still very much present in her detention.

He wasn’t even pretending to help her clean anymore.

No, Sebastian had made himself perfectly comfortable on a desk, legs stretched out in front of him, arms folded across his chest, watching her with a lazy, insufferable smirk.

Watching.

Waiting.

Baiting.

And she knew exactly what he was waiting for.

“Do you ever just… stop?” She snapped, finally slamming the rag down onto the desk and whirling to face him.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence once more. “Stop what, exactly?”

She narrowed her eyes, fists clenching at her sides. “The bloody harping.”

His grin widened. “Harping? I wouldn’t call it harping -”

“Oh, I would.” She shot back, stepping closer, jabbing a finger in his direction. “All day, Sebastian. You’ve been on about this all bloody day.”

“Well, excuse me for having a healthy sense of curiosity!”

“No, no. Curiosity is fine. A bit of teasing? Fine. But this?” She gestured wildly between them. “This is obsession.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, it's just a bit of teasing.”

“No, seriously.” She continued, her hands landing on her hips as she fixed him with a glare. “Why are you so invested in this? Why do you care so much about what I saw?”

He opened his mouth - probably to deflect with more of his usual smarmy nonsense - but she wasn’t having it. Not today.

She pointed at him again, her voice rising. “Why does it matter if I saw some hypothetical handsome man playing with some hypothetical children in some hypothetical backyard?”

Sebastian’s smirk faltered.

She scoffed, folding her arms.

“What, are you actually worried you weren’t in it?” She let out a laugh.

That was supposed to shut him up.

That was supposed to win the argument.

Instead, something in Sebastian’s face shifted.

The smirk disappeared entirely.

The humor drained from his features.

Brown eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something flippant - joking, like he always did. But then, instead of the expected snark, he leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk on either side of her, his gaze unyielding.

“It better be me.”

The words alone knocked the wind out of her.

She blinked, her brain screeching to a halt. “What -”

“It better be me you saw.” Sebastian repeated, his voice lower now. “Because I swear, I will make sure of it.”

Sebastian stood up straighter, towering over her.

She should move.

She should say something.

She should hex him, or shove him, or at the very least breathe.

But all she could do was stare up at him, her entire body locked in place, pulse frantic.

She could feel the warmth of his body, close enough that if she leaned forward just a fraction… just a little…

No.

“Sebastian…” She started, but her voice betrayed her - breathless; unsteady.

He tilted his head, his gaze flicking between her eyes, her mouth. “Yes, darling?”

Oh, fuck him.

She scowled, forcing herself to glare up at him, to fight whatever the hell this was. “You’re taking this joke too far.”

“No.” He replied simply. “For once, I’m not.”

His hand came up to rest on the side of her face.

“You can’t just decide that it’s you.” She snapped, willing her voice to stay steady.

His smirk returned. “Can’t I?”

“No, you can’t.” She hissed. “That’s not how this works, Sallow.”

“Well…” He said, his voice deceptively soft, “It is now.”

And then, without warning, he leaned in further, just enough that she felt his breath hot on her cheek, and his lips grazed the shell of her ear when he spoke next.

“Because no one else will do for you besides me.”

And she forgot how to function.

Her brain ceased all operation.

She needed to leave.

Immediately.

She shoved him - hard, hands flat against his chest. Not because she was angry (though she wanted to pretend she was), but because if she didn’t, she was going to do something monumentally stupid.

Sebastian barely budged, but he let her push him away.

And the bastard - the absolute bastard - just smiled.

She gaped incredulously at him, her face burning, her heart pounding, and he had the audacity to look proud of himself.

“You!”

“Me?” He asked, grinning.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You really don’t.”

She made a furious, inarticulate noise and turned on her heel, storming toward the door before she hexed him into next week.

“I refuse to engage with this any longer.”

“See you in my backyard, dear.” He called after her, amused.

She flipped him off over her shoulder and slammed the door behind her.

-

She was a witch of great patience.

A remarkable level of patience, really.

But even she had her limits.

And Sebastian bloody Sallow was pushing every single one of them.

From the moment she stepped into the Great Hall the next morning, he had not stopped.

He was waiting for her - because of course, he was - lounging lazily at the Slytherin table with his usual air of self-satisfaction, already grinning like he had been expecting her to walk in just so he could ruin her morning.

The moment their eyes met, he lifted his goblet in a slow, mocking toast. “Morning, darling.”

Her eye twitched.

She turned sharply toward her own table, determined to ignore him, but he did not allow that to happen.

“Oh, don’t run off now.” He called, loud enough for nearby students to turn and look. “What, afraid to sit with your future husband?”

She choked.

Sebastian just smirked.

Nearby, Imelda Reyes spat out her juice.

She took a slow, deep breath.

You will not kill him. You will not cause a scene. That is what he wants.

She should have walked away.

Instead, her feet carried her straight toward him.

Sebastian’s smirk widened as she approached, leaning back with mock innocence.

“What’s this?” He mused as she came to a stop beside him. “Coming to talk about our future, love? How soon do you want the wedding? I suppose we should get started on those three children sooner rather than later -”

She clamped a hand over his mouth.

A mistake. A terrible mistake.

Because Sebastian Sallow had the audacity, the unmitigated gall, to press a slow, deliberate kiss to the center of her palm.

With tongue.

She yanked her hand back, mortified.

“Oh, darling.” He sighed, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “I know you’re eager, but please, contain yourself.”

“Sebastian.” She growled. “I will end you.”

“But why, love?” He asked, looking far too pleased with himself. “I’m just trying to plan our future.”

“You don’t have a future.” She snapped. “Not if you keep talking.”

“See, I disagree.” He continued, completely unfazed. “Because you’ve already seen it.”

He tapped his temple, smirking.

She blanched.

Sebastian leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, his grin turning downright wicked. “Say, love, if we’re having three children, do you think they’ll all be as devastatingly attractive as us, or will our good looks compound?”

She whispered his name in low warning to quit while he still had a tongue to wag.

“Because personally…” He continued, not stopping, “I think at least one will inherit your hair but my -”

She grabbed him by the collar and kissed him roughly.

It wasn’t some hasty, desperate thing done simply to shut him up - though, Merlin knew, that was a massive perk.

Sebastian froze for half a second before making a low, pleased sound in his throat and promptly melting into it, his hands sliding up to grip her waist, fingers gripping the fabric of her robes and holding on for dear life.

She kissed him like she had already decided.

Like the future he was so smugly certain of was real, and she was finally just letting him know it.

Someone definitely gasped. There was a clatter of a dropped fork behind them.

By the time she pulled away, Sebastian was stunned silent for the first time in his entire life.

His eyes were wide, pupils blown, breath unsteady.

She smirked and leaned in, her voice low in his ear. “Shut up now, Sallow, while I'm still of a mind to leave you with your ability to give me those three kids.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and strode away.

Sebastian sat there, blinking.

Processing.

His brain was empty, blood having gone somewhere south.

He finally exhaled, running a shaky hand through his hair, still mildly shell-shocked.

“Yeah…” He muttered in a daze but still deeply, deeply smug. “That’s definitely my wife.”

-

The air was warm and mingling with the scent of sun-warmed grass and the faint perfume of wildflowers blooming along the garden fence. A light breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, and the day was truly blissful.

She stood on the back porch, arms crossed, watching him.

Sebastian was in the yard, effortlessly entertaining three unruly children, laughter spilling through the garden. Eleanor and Oliver had wrestled him into the grass, determined to subdue him, while little Thomas tottered toward the chaos, gripping a half-eaten biscuit like a weapon.

The moment the toddler reached them, Sebastian turned, scooping him up with ease and tossing him into the air. Thomas shrieked in delight, kicking his legs wildly before being caught and swung onto Sebastian’s back, clinging to his shirt like a bowtruckle.

Warmth settled in her chest as she observed her darling family.

It wasn’t just the scene before her. It was the rightness of it.

She had seen this before.

Not exactly - there had been no names, no details, no certainty. But the warmth, the ease, the sound of their children laughing, the light and love drenching the garden…

She had seen it.

She had mocked it.

And yet, there it all was.

Sebastian must have noticed her watching because he turned his head, catching her eye with a wink and a lopsided grin.

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as realization settled over her.

Sebastian, ever attuned to her moods, raised a brow. “What?”

She shool her head as she took a sip of her lemonade. “Nothing. Just remembering something stupid.”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the children, but she knew he wouldn’t let it go.

And, predictably, the moment he managed to escape the clutches of their giggling horde, he was making his way toward her, shaking bits of grass from his hair like a dog.

She leaned against the railing, waiting.

Sebastian reached her, placing his hands on either side of her as he leaned in, crowding into her space.

“Alright, spit it out.” He demanded, warm as ever. “What were you thinking about just now? And I do mean besides how you're just chomping at the bit for a fourth.”

She hummed, taking another coy sip of lemonade.

That was true, of course. A fourth, certainly. And a fifth, sixth, and tenth.

But ultimately, not the point of her musings.

“Oh, nothing much. Just a vision I had once.”

His brows lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “A vision?”

“Mhm.” She swirled the glass in her hand, enjoying drawing it out. “Divination. You remember our twinned suffering?”

Sebastian snorted. “Vividly. Onai gave you detention constantly.”

“Well…” She said, eyeing him. “One time, I looked into a scrying mirror, and I saw a handsome man playing with three children in a large backyard.”

Sebastian blinked, the words sinking in.

Then -

“Oh, fuck off.” He breathed, eyes widening.

She beamed.

Sebastian groaned, pressing his forehead against her shoulder. “No.”

“Oh, yes.”

He tilted his head up, eyes alight with amusement.

“You mean to tell me…” He began slowly, “that after all that mocking, after two full years of calling Divination absolute bollocks, you saw this?”

She shrugged. “Apparently.”

Sebastian exhaled dramatically, running a hand through his hair before pinning her with a dry look. “I told you it was me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You were insufferable about it.”

“And right!” He pointed out, smug as ever. “You divined our future, Mrs. Sallow.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, don’t say it like that.”

“What? Like the truth?” He grinned, leaning in even closer, his nose nearly brushing hers. “Didn't need to consult a Seer to know you wanted me.”

She groaned, shoving him back playfully. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Sebastian caught her wrist before she could pull away, tugging her flush against him.

“Too late, love.” He murmured, his smirk turning softer now.

She sighed, exasperated but fond, pressing her forehead to his. “I love you.”

“Likewise.” He whispered before kissing her, slow and easy and wholly deaf to the protests of their only daughter who had the immense misfortune to look up at the porch just then.

When she pulled back, her lips curved into a dazed smile. “Maybe I deserved a better grade in Divination after all.”

Sebastian laughed, his arms tightening around her. “I’ll be sure to inform Onai at the next alumni event.”

But he was already laughing, already dipping and kissing her again, already pulling her back into the future she had never believed in.

“Don’t you dare.”

But this time, something about the request had set his nerves on edge.

Because he couldn't even guess what it was about. He had already endured the biggest shock of the decade when they'd told him Evangeline was pregnant—though, in retrospect, perhaps “shock” wasn’t the right word for it.

Shock implied surprise. Shock implied that this revelation had been something he had never considered before. And yet, Ominis had always known, in some quiet, unspoken way, that Sebastian and Evangeline would build this life together. Tat they were the kind of people who would find joy in something as terrifying and miraculous as a child.

So no, he hadn't been shocked.

But he had been thoroughly, playfully outraged that he'd been the last to know.

Because Anne hadn’t seemed remotely surprised. In fact, she had reacted with a knowing smile and absolutely none of the wide-eyed astonishment Ominis had expected, which, upon further interrogation, had quickly made sense.

Because of course Evangeline had gone to Anne first. Anne was a Healer, after all. If anyone was going to confirm the news, it was her.

"You mean to tell me that I was the last to find out?" he had asked, indignant.

Evangeline had only smiled, reaching out to squeeze his arm, her warmth cutting through his dramatic sulking. “I promise it wasn’t personal.”

Anne had snickered. “It’s a little personal.”

The four of them had laughed, and Ominis, despite himself, couldn’t find it in him to continue feigning irritation—not when Evangeline had looked so utterly happy, her fingers resting over her stomach in quiet wonder, and not when Sebastian had been seconds away from tearing up like a sentimental fool.

In fact, Ominis had been thrilled. Excited. And just a little bit terrified.

Because this was Sebastian and Evangeline they were talking about. A baby born to those two was bound to be either the most brilliant or the most dangerous child in existence. Possibly both. Ominis had already resigned himself to years of damage control, and the baby hadn’t even been born yet.

It had been weeks since then, though, and now that Ominis was here in their sitting room, he had no idea what to expect. Sebastian and Evangeline weren’t exactly the sit-you-down-for-a-serious-talk type. They were blunt and affectionate, prone to teasing and honesty without preamble. So the fact that they had summoned him for something—and without Anne, who was conveniently working late at St. Mungo’s—was making his nerves prickle.

“Alright,” he said carefully. “I can tell you’re both trying not to make me panic, which only makes me panic. Just get on with it, whatever it is.”

Evangeline and Sebastian exchanged a glance, and that was when Ominis knew he was well and truly doomed.

It wasn’t that they were being particularly suspicious—at least, not outwardly. But Ominis had spent years attuned to their every shift, their every nuance. He knew Sebastian’s nervous ticks just as well as he knew Evangeline’s soft hesitations, the way she measured her words when something truly mattered.

And that was what set him on edge.

Because Evangeline was measuring her words now.

She exhaled, slow and steady, then reached for Ominis's hand, her fingers curling lightly around his wrist. Warm. Steady. Comforting.

It did nothing to calm him.

"Ominis," she began, voice gentle but intent. "You know how much you mean to us. You always have."

That was it. The moment his stomach dropped.

This was bad.

There was a “but” coming—there had to be.

Because no one ever started a sentence like that without following it up with something dreadful. His entire childhood had been filled with those phrases. You know how much we care for you, Ominis, but your disobedience cannot go unpunished. You know you are valued, but your behavior has left us with no choice.

He braced himself. He clenched his free hand into tight fist in his lap, the tips of his fingers pressing into the fine wool of his trousers. He was sure he looked impassive, but internally, his mind was spiraling into the depths of every possible worst-case scenario.

Sebastian, for once in his life, wasn’t jumping in with some remark to defuse the tension. That was another bad sign.

"You're our family," Evangeline continued, squeezing his wrist lightly, her voice so full of certainty that it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. "And we trust you and Anne more than anyone."

Sebastian finally spoke then, a touch rougher than usual, as if he were trying to maintain his usual nonchalance but failing. “Which is why we... we want you to be our baby's godfather.”

Ominis froze.

The words should have made sense, but for some reason, his brain refused to process them.

"I—" He swallowed, utterly lost. "What?"

Evangeline let out a small breath of laughter, and Sebastian—Merlin damn him—sounded smug when he said, "You do know what a godfather is, don't you?"

Ominis turned his head toward Sebastian so fast it was a wonder he didn’t snap his own neck. He should have known—should have known—that even in a moment like this, Sebastian would find a way to be insufferable.

“I know what a godfather is,” Ominis bit out, his voice barely holding steady, “I just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, trying to drag himself back to the present before his emotions completely derailed him

Sebastia, continued, as if he weren’t sending Ominis into the early stages of an emotional breakdown. "Well then, if... if you're willing, we truly can’t imagine anyone else."

Ominis’ lips parted, but no words came out. He felt like he was suffocating, but not in a bad way. More like… like he had been dropped into the middle of an ocean with no warning, waves closing over him before he could even breathe.

"And if it’s a girl," Evangeline said softly, hesitantly, "we were thinking of naming her Noctua. After your aunt."

It took all of Ominis’ control not to flinch.

Noctua. Noctua.

His aunt, the only person in his family who had ever shown him kindness, who had tried to help him, who had died trying to show him their family could be more. The only Gaunt he had ever loved.

His throat closed up.

"Only if you're okay with it," Evangeline added quickly, as if sensing the way his world had just tilted off its axis. "We don’t want to bring up painful memories, but—"

"I—" Ominis' voice cracked, and he had to take a moment to steady himself. His entire chest ached with something raw and terrible and beautiful. "I don't— I mean, I—"

And then Evangeline kept going, not knowing she was about to destroy him entirely.

"And if it’s a boy," she murmured, softer now, "we’d like to name him after you."

Silence.

It stretched thick and unrelenting, pressing against Ominis's ribs, filling his lungs with something he didn’t have the words for.

The first breath he took came out in a broken, stuttering gasp, and before he could even try to stop it, his face was in his hands, and—oh, Merlin, he was crying.

Not the kind of restrained, dignified tears he had occasionally let slip in private moments of grief.

No. This was ugly crying.

It was full-body, unrestrained sobbing, the kind that stole his breath, that made his shoulders shake and his chest hurt.

Somewhere through the haze of overwhelming emotion, he felt Evangeline shift, felt her arms wrap around him in a way that was warm and secure and safe. She murmured something soft, something meant to soothe, but the words were lost beneath the sharp, impossible ache of it all.

Sebastian, the bastard, let out a wet laugh. “Merlin, mate, we thought you’d be happy about it.”

Ominis tried—tried—to say something in response, but all that came out was another strangled, half-choked sound that barely resembled human speech. Which was fantastic. He was making an absolute spectacle of himself, and neither of them had the decency to pretend he wasn’t.

Sebastian squeezed his shoulder, his touch grounding but careful—a rarity for him—while Ominis buried his face further into his hands, laughing helplessly between broken sobs, and shook his head.

"I—I am happy, you idiot," he managed to choke out.

Sebastian let out another breath of laughter, this one softer.

"Good," Sebastian said again, his voice quieter now, like he was trying to play it off as casual, like he wasn’t two seconds away from getting choked up himself. But Ominis knew him too well—knew that the slight tremor in his voice, the way his fingers tightened against his shoulder, was just as much a betrayal of emotion as Ominis’ own wrecked state.

Evangeline still hadn't let go, her arms firm around him, her hand smoothing up and down his back in slow, grounding strokes. And Ominis—who had spent a lifetime holding himself apart, who had learned to flinch away from touch before he ever learned to accept it—could do nothing but sink into it.

Because it was safe. Because it was real.

Because it was his.

It was a family of his own making, built from the ruins of the past, from the people who had chosen him despite everything.

And it was the most precious thing he had ever been given.

Ominis took a shaking breath, tried to steady himself enough to speak properly. It didn’t quite work. "I—" He swallowed hard, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes like that might somehow stop the flood of tears. It didn’t. "You absolute nightmares."

Sebastian snorted, the sound thick with emotion. "Well, we're your nightmares."

Ominis let out something between a sob and a laugh, shaking his head. "I—Merlin’s beard, I don’t even know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," Evangeline murmured, like she was grateful for him, as if this hadn’t just completely undone him from the inside out.

Sebastian leaned back into the couch, sighing dramatically. "Yeah, the crying pretty much said it all."

Ominis didn’t even have the energy to glare at him. "Shut up."