Love's Not Time's Fool // Ominis Gaunt & Anne Sallow

There Will Be Time, There Will Be Time

"And indeed there will be time...

There will be time, there will be time...

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea."

- Excerpt from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

***

Forty-eight Hours Post-Catacomb

Ominis cradled Anne in his arms as her body was wracked with spasms. He couldn't fathom the pain she must be in. She had been moaning into his chest for what felt like an eternity, though it couldn't have been more than a handful of minutes. At least, he hoped it hadn't been longer. He wished he could do more: something, anything to ease her agony. He felt completely useless.

It certainly didn't help that Anne had buried Solomon alone while Ominis was speaking with Professor Weasley yesterday, as he had promised. Anne hadn't informed him until he returned to Feldcroft, but Ominis couldn't find himself cross with her. Of course he had wanted to be there for her, to assist her in laying her uncle to rest, but he understood she needed to do it quietly, and her independent streak was not something to be taken lightly, even burdened with the terrible curse that ailed her.

In his conversation with Weasley, Ominis had painted a false picture of events, that Sebastian and Solomon had gotten into a nasty argument, that Solomon had resorted to violence, and that in his unbridled rage he had fled, threatening to never return, leaving his niece and nephew alone in Feldcroft. Weasley, her face wan, seemed to accept his dire tale, and offered to help in whatever manner needed. Ominis said he would ask Sebastian; only Ominis knew he wouldn't. In fact, an uncomfortably large part of him never wanted to speak to Sebastian again. It shook him to his core.

Ominis was furious that he had to cover for Sebastian in this manner, especially after what he had done. He had murdered his own uncle. Ominis's oldest friend, his best friend, had been completely consumed by Dark Magic, and he had committed the unthinkable. How could he? His own uncle, for Merlin's sake! How could Sebastian do this to Anne? How could Sebastian do this to Ominis?

At least Ominis could be here for Anne. For now, perhaps his presence would be enough.

Two Weeks Post-Catacomb

"I wish you would lock the door," Ominis said in greeting as he entered the house.

Anne merely groaned in response, rolling over to face him. She still lay in bed despite it being what she assumed was late morning, as was evident from the brightness and angle of the sun through the window. Lately, she hadn't found much reason to get out of bed. The only days she felt the need to get dressed were the days she knew Ominis would be visiting. But today was a bad day. She woke up in pain, completely soaked in sweat, with visions of Sebastian looming above her, flanked by Inferi, his eyes cold and haunted, burned on the back of her eyelids.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Ominis shuffled closer to her, deactivating his wand and tucking it into his arm holster. A furrow appeared above his brow when she didn't reply right away. "Anne?" He settled down in a crouch on the floor beside her bed.

"No," she managed to utter through clenched teeth as another wave of pain coursed through her. She curled in on herself. Ominis cautiously reached his fingertips out and clasped her hand. He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed gently.