Fragments of Time

"Ominis, I demand answers," Sebastian insisted for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice laced with frustration as he hurried after his friend. Ominis, however, was determined to escape, his pace quickening as he wove through the crowded corridors of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower. The hum of conversation and the distant echo of an enchanted violin filled the air, but Sebastian’s relentless pursuit drowned out everything else.

Theowen had left earlier, practically dragged away by Elladora, with Professor Hecat following close behind—something that only added to Sebastian's mounting suspicions. And now, Ominis was running. That alone spoke volumes.

"Stop avoiding me!" Sebastian growled, lunging forward and grabbing Ominis's arm, forcing him to halt. Ominis flinched at the sudden contact, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Sebastian, let go," he said evenly, though there was an unmistakable edge to his tone.

"Not until you tell me what that was," Sebastian shot back, his grip tightening. "In fact—who was that?"

Ominis hesitated, his usual composure wavering for just a fraction of a second. "Sebastian..." he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I’m in no position to say. If you want answers, ask Theowen yourself."

Sebastian scoffed, letting out a humourless chuckle. "You know that’s impossible right now," he argued. "And you—you're the only one who has any answers."

Ominis remained silent.

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. "Alright, fine. Then tell me this—who do you think it was?"

Ominis's expression remained unreadable, but he inclined his head slightly, as if curious to hear Sebastian’s thoughts.

Sebastian hesitated. The answer had been on the tip of his tongue since that moment in class, yet it felt so absurd that even saying it aloud seemed ridiculous. "I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head. "It’s...impossible. My answer will make me sound like a lunatic."

"If it makes you feel any better, you already do," Ominis muttered dryly.

Sebastian shot him a glare. "Hey! I heard that."

Ominis smirked faintly but said nothing.

Sebastian sighed, running a hand down his face before finally taking a deep breath. "Alright. I think... it was—"

"There you are!" A familiar voice called out, cutting him off.

Both boys turned as Anne approached, her usual bright smile in place. "My classes just finished," she announced, slipping effortlessly into step beside them. "Are you two heading to the dining hall?"

She trailed off, her gaze flickering between them. Even with her cheery demeanour, she wasn’t blind to the tension that hung between them. "What’s wrong?" she asked, her smile faltering just slightly.

Sebastian drew in a sharp breath before forcing a tight smile. "Nothing," he reassured, though the slight strain in his voice made it less than convincing.

Ominis took the opportunity to wrench his arm free from Sebastian’s grip, subtly stepping back to create distance. Sebastian clicked his tongue in irritation but stopped short when Anne’s suspicious gaze darted between them.

"It doesn’t sound like nothing…" she observed, her arms crossing.

Ominis let out a measured sigh. "Sebastian was just being nosy—as usual," he said pointedly before adding, "It’s private. Family business."

The slight emphasis on family did the trick—Anne’s curiosity flickered, but she didn’t press further. "Ah, I see," she murmured, though the disappointment in her voice was unmistakable.

Still, she wasn’t one to linger on a lost cause for long. With a small smile, she shifted gears. "Shall we head to lunch, then?"

"Lead the way," Sebastian said, visibly relieved at the change of topic.

The trio began making their way toward the Great Hall, blending into the usual bustle of students eager for their midday meal. However, Ominis suddenly slowed, his wand detecting a presence—one he recognized immediately. A familiar scent of freshly baked goods lingered in the air, but it wasn’t just the scent that caught his attention. The hurried, almost anxious footsteps told him something was off.

A feeling—one he had learned never to ignore—urged him to follow.

"You two go ahead," Ominis said abruptly, halting in place.

Sebastian and Anne both turned to him, surprised. "What? Why?" Sebastian asked, frowning.

"I have business to attend to," Ominis replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before either twin could question him further, he turned on his heel and followed the figure, descending the stairs and slipping through a set of doors, vanishing into the castle’s depths.

Ominis continued his pursuit, his steps light and measured. It didn’t take long for him to deduce that the figure was heading toward the library. However, just as she neared the entrance, she came to an abrupt halt. He picked up on the hesitancy immediately, his senses attuned to even the smallest shift in movement.

Urging his wand forward, he scanned the area and quickly discerned the presence of several students—prefects, most likely—stationed at the entrance.

Curious, he mused, piecing things together. If they were blocking the way, there was only one likely reason.

Theowen was inside.

"You won’t be able to enter the library like that," Ominis called out, stepping forward and revealing himself. His voice was even, yet edged with quiet amusement. "May I be of service?"

The figure spun around with a startled gasp.

"Ominis!" Natsai exclaimed, momentarily flustered. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," he replied smoothly, his wand scanning her silhouette. He arched a brow. "An odd place to bring sweet treats, don’t you think, Natty?"

Natsai scoffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "You know who I’m bringing these to."

Ominis sighed, the hint of a sad smile forming. "Which is why I want to help."

She eyed him warily, searching his expression before nodding. "Lead the way."

With the confidence of someone who had long mastered the art of persuasion, Ominis strode toward the library entrance, Natsai trailing just behind. As expected, they were stopped before they could pass.

"Sorry, no students allowed inside at the moment," one of the prefects announced stiffly.

Ominis tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Surely you’re joking."

The prefect hesitated, shifting uncomfortably under Ominis’s unseen yet piercing scrutiny. Still, he stood his ground. "I’m not, I’m afraid. It’s—erm—Ms. Black’s orders."

A muscle in Ominis’s jaw twitched. "Since when does she have jurisdiction over this school?"

The prefect hesitated. "She is the Headmaster’s sister..."

Ominis let out a slow breath, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. "I have no patience for such nonsense. Stand aside and let me pass, or the two of you will have the pleasure of explaining to my father why his son’s grades have suffered—because of blithering fools who thought it wise to stand in my way."

His tone remained measured, yet the subtle menace beneath his words was enough. He could practically feel the two prefects stiffen, their pulse quickening.

The silence stretched.

Then, without further protest, they stepped aside.

Ominis smirked slightly, striding forward as if their resistance had been nothing more than an inconvenience. Natsai followed quickly, muttering to the prefects, "I’m with him," before descending the stairs alongside him.

Ominis felt a strange exhilaration stirring within him. Never before had he wielded the power of his family name so effortlessly, so unapologetically. The Ominis from his fifth year would have found such an act unthinkable.

Natsai shook her head in amusement. "Remind me never to be your enemy," she murmured.

Ominis let out a soft chuckle, though there was something unreadable in his expression. 

Together, they descended into the quiet depths of the library.

Ominis sensed the presence of scattered students lingering between the towering bookshelves—likely those who had been here long before Theowen’s return. It made sense; for all her self-importance, Elladora lacked the influence to completely clear the library. She had already earned the ire of nearly every staff member at Hogwarts—everyone except her brother.

His wand picked up on Natsai’s quickened steps, her determined pace leading toward the far end of the library, near a secluded fireplace.

"Theowen!" Natsai whispered, excitement brimming in her voice.

Ominis’s pulse quickened. He froze in place, instinctively retreating into the shadows of the nearest bookshelf. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. How was he supposed to approach her? What was he supposed to say?

Instead, he lingered, gripping his wand tightly, allowing Natsai the moment she deserved with her friend.

"Natty!" Theowen’s hushed but eager response carried across the space, tinged with relief and unmistakable joy. "What on Merlin’s name are you doing here? How did you get inside?"

"I had help," Natsai said, glancing behind her with a proud smile, ready to gesture toward her unexpected accomplice—only to find empty space.

She blinked.

"Natty?" Theowen tilted her head, puzzled by her friend’s sudden distraction.

Natsai quickly turned back, shaking off the momentary confusion and offering a warm smile. "Never mind. I brought you these," she whispered, pulling a small paper bag from the folds of her robe. The scent of fresh pastries wafted between them. "I figured you’d be hungry…"

Theowen’s breath hitched at the sight, her eyes darkening with something feral.

She didn’t need to say anything. Her expression alone told Natsai everything.

She’s starving.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Natsai gestured toward the chair beside Theowen’s, watching as her friend sank into the seat. The moment Theowen reached into the bag, she lost all pretence of restraint. She inhaled the pastries with an almost desperate urgency, barely pausing for breath.

Natsai’s chest ached as she watched. Merlin’s beard… that vile monster really did starve you.

By the time Theowen had devoured every last crumb, she finally seemed to register her own behaviour. With a deep inhale, she straightened, wiping at the corners of her mouth, swallowing the last bite before offering Natsai an almost sheepish look. "I—"

"You don’t have to explain," Natsai said gently, though her eyes burned with quiet fury.

Theowen exhaled, a faint, weary smile tugging at her lips. "It’s nothing too bad. It’s much better now that I’m back here."

"Not too bad?" Natsai echoed incredulously. "Theowen—everyone knows she’s been hurting you."

Theowen flinched but quickly smothered the reaction, forcing another small, tired smile. "Part of the everyday struggle, I’m afraid."

"It doesn’t have to be," Natsai whispered, her voice tight with emotion.

For a moment, the warmth of the fireplace was the only sound between them.

Just then, Natsai heard a familiar someone clearing his throat—a subtle but unmistakable signal. With a knowing giggle, she stood up, earning a puzzled look from Theowen.

"I just remembered that I need to look for a particular book…" Natsai said, stretching as if the thought had only just occurred to her.

Theowen frowned slightly, her confusion deepening. "Now? What are you looking for?"

"Divination," Natsai groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. "My mother gave me extra assignments for my future—as if I don’t already have enough on my plate."

Theowen giggled. "That sounds like her."

"You have no idea," Natsai muttered before waving a dismissive hand. "It’s on ovomancy. I need to write a research paper comparing it to phyllomancy."

Theowen blinked, taken aback. "That’s… highly unusual."

"Don’t even talk to me about it," Natsai huffed, rubbing her temples as though merely thinking about it was causing her a headache. "Do you mind looking over there? I think I saw some books on phyllomancy earlier. I’ll ask the librarian for recommendations in the meantime."

"Of course," Theowen nodded, happy to help.

She wandered deeper into the towering bookshelves, fingers trailing along the spines of various tomes as she scanned for anything remotely useful. Her gaze landed on a book just out of reach, nestled stubbornly on a high shelf. She sighed in frustration—if only she could use magic, this would be effortless. Instead, she rose onto her tiptoes, stretching her fingers toward the spine.

Just as she was about to give up, a hand reached over her shoulder, plucking the book down with ease.

She gasped softly and spun around, her breath catching in her throat.

Ominis stood before her, his expression gentle, his familiar warmth washing over her like a tide. He held the book out to her, offering it with that quiet smile of his.

Before she could stop herself, she moved.

With no hesitation, she threw herself into his arms, wrapping around him tightly. She felt him inhale sharply, startled by the sudden embrace, but after a mere second, he melted into it, his arms curling securely around her.

The moment his hands grazed her back, however, she let out an involuntary yelp and jerked away.

Ominis stiffened, his face quickly shifting from confusion to something much darker—realization dawning, followed by sheer horror.

"Did she—" His voice came out strangled, but Theowen didn’t let him finish.

She reached up, cupping his face between her hands, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks in a desperate attempt to soothe him. "It’s fine," she whispered.

His hands came up, gently cradling hers, his expression deeply troubled. "No. This is not fine." His voice was quiet but unshaking. "She whipped you."

Theowen swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. "Please," she murmured, "don’t rile things up with her. It’ll only make things worse for me."

Ominis’s lips pressed into a thin line, his breath coming out in slow, measured exhales as he struggled to reign in his fury. Finally, after a moment, he spoke, his voice softer but no less resolute.

"At least let me cast a healing charm."

Theowen shook her head. "That won’t do. If I show up with a miraculously healed back, she’ll just take it out on me worse next time." She sighed, tilting her head playfully. "Besides, what exactly do you propose? You want me to strip right here in the middle of the library?"

Ominis froze.

His face turned a deep, unmistakable shade of red. "N-no, I—I didn’t mean—"

Theowen burst into laughter, unable to help herself. "Relax, Ominis," she teased, flashing him a smirk. "I was only joking."

Ominis groaned, turning his face away in embarrassment. He had hoped to remain composed, to handle this situation with dignity, but she had an uncanny ability to completely undo him.

Flustered beyond recovery, he did the only thing he could think of—he leaned in, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Theowen stilled at first, but then, with a soft, affectionate smile, she lifted a hand and tousled his perfectly neat hair, her fingers lingering there as a quiet sense of relief washed over her.

Ominis pulled away slightly, inhaling sharply as he fought to compose himself. He cleared his throat, pushing past his lingering embarrassment, his expression quickly shifting into something more serious.

Theowen knew exactly what he was about to say. She could feel it in the way his grip subtly tightened, in the way his breath steadied—he was going to bring up Elladora.

She refused to let him.

Propriety be damned.

Without a second thought, she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips against his in a firm, silencing kiss. She felt him stiffen—completely frozen, his mind racing to catch up with her actions.

A wicked thought flickered in the back of her mind, a memory from another time, another him. She smirked against his lips, knowing exactly what would break his restraint. Slowly, she traced her tongue along the seam of his lips, coaxing them apart before slipping inside, deepening the kiss without hesitation.

Ominis gasped into her mouth, still caught in the haze of shock, but the moment his mind processed what was happening—what he was doing—his resolve shattered. He gave in.

And Merlin, he responded with fervour.

His hands found their way to her body, one cradling the crook of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, while the other skimmed down her back, finally resting at her waist. Even now—_even now_—he was careful, mindful of her wounds, of the pain Elladora had inflicted upon her. The realization sent a shiver down her spine, something between tenderness and frustration. She wanted more—wanted him—to lose himself the way she knew he longed to.

Their tongues moved in a slow, intoxicating rhythm at first, but as restraint peeled away, the pace quickened. A spark turned into fire, unravelling them both, stripping away hesitation and revealing what lay beneath—desire, longing, need.

Somewhere in the haze, Ominis pushed her back against the bookshelves. The impact was firm but controlled, his body flush against hers. Theowen barely registered it, too lost in the feeling of his lips moving against hers, his hands exploring just enough to drive her wild without crossing the line.

She barely had time to catch her breath before she felt it—his knee nudging between her legs, parting them instinctively.

She broke the kiss with a sharp intake of breath.

Their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths ragged, mingling in the narrow space between them. Her vision was blurred, her pulse hammering against her ribs. She could only imagine how she looked, flushed and dazed—but then she saw him.

His face was already crimson, but not from embarrassment. Not this time.

No—this time, it was hunger.

Hunger for her.

“What,” Ominis breathed, his voice ragged, “what was that?”

Theowen, still catching her breath, gave him a weak, teasing smile. “A silencing spell.”

A startled chuckle escaped his lips, the sound low and breathy. He ran a hand through his hair, willing the heat in his face to subside before exhaling sharply and sinking onto the cold wooden floor. The earlier activities had left him overheated, and the cool surface beneath him was a welcome relief. Without a word, he reached for her hand, fingers brushing against hers before gently tugging her down with him.

She didn’t resist. Instead, she let herself settle between his legs, her back resting against his chest while his head leaned against the shelves behind them. Silence stretched between them—not uncomfortable, but something delicate, something precious. Their bodies slowly relaxed, the rapid thudding of their hearts evening out.

Theowen listened to his heartbeat as it slowed beneath her cheek, the steady rhythm grounding her. Ominis, in turn, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer, as if making sure she was still there—that she was real.

Then, he broke the silence.

“You know I’m not him.”

His voice was quiet, but the words sliced through the fragile comfort they had built.

Theowen stilled. “…Whatever do you mean?”

“Him,” Ominis clarified, his tone laced with something heavy. “The version of me that was married to you.”

She swallowed, saying nothing, letting him continue.

“I’m… different,” he admitted, as if confessing a sin. “I’m not the same man you married. So much—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening, his mind unwillingly dragging him back to what he had done. To the life he had taken. To the darkness he had touched. Guilt clawed at him. “So much has changed.”

Theowen felt it—the shift in his voice, the weight in his words. Something was wrong.

She turned, kneeling before him, her hands reaching up to cradle his face. “Ominis,” she murmured, her gaze searching. “What did you do?”

He stiffened at her words. His lips thinned, his breath hitched. She knows.

The fear was instantaneous. It gripped him, strangled him. Would she hate him? Would she look at him the way she once looked at Sebastian all those years ago? He understood it now—the desperation, the reckless need to fix what was broken.

He turned his head away instinctively, though sightless, as if hiding would somehow erase the shame. His wand pulsed slightly, sensing her—her warmth, her unwavering presence, the concern written all over her face. “Nothing,” he muttered, but even he knew how unconvincing it sounded.

Theowen sighed, exasperated but patient. “Ominis… it’s not nothing. I can feel it.”

Silence. A long, heavy silence.

He couldn’t tell her. Not yet.

And she, sensing his resolve, chose not to push further. Instead, she exhaled softly, her hands still cupping his face, before she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

The tension shattered.

Ominis felt warmth bloom where her lips touched, a sensation that spread through his entire body. His breath hitched, but this time, not from fear.

She smiled. He could feel it.

“Regardless of what you’ve done or what you’ve become,” she whispered, “I will always love you. No matter what.”

His breath caught in his throat.

He parted his lips, ready to protest, to tell her she didn’t understand, that if she knew what he had done, she wouldn’t say that. But before he could speak, she placed a single finger over his lips, silencing him.

“When you’re ready to tell me,” she murmured, “you will. Won’t you?”

Ominis swallowed hard. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t trust his voice not to break, so he simply nodded.

A small smile tugged at her lips before she settled back into her previous position, pressing her back against his chest once more. He followed suit, his arms tightening around her instinctively, unwilling to let her go.

For a moment, they simply _existed_ in each other’s arms.

Both wishing—silently, desperately—that time would stand still.

But neither of them noticed.

Neither of them sensed the presence lingering nearby.

Watching.

Listening.