The Hogwarts staff room is warm with early morning light, the stone walls humming with enchantments to ward off the chill that rolled in overnight. A fire crackles in the hearth, casting soft gold against the wood-paneled walls, and the faint clink of silver spoons against porcelain fills the room with a quiet rhythm.

The smell of enchanted tea leaves and cinnamon scones drifts through the air. Outside the tall windows, the lake glitters beneath a gray sky.

You sit curled into the corner of the long couch near the fire, your mug resting between both hands. Your fingers haven’t stopped shaking—not visibly, but enough that you keep adjusting your grip. Beside you, Bastian sits, dressed in his usual charcoal robes, polished but rumpled at the cuffs like he dressed in a hurry. His metal arm rests against the table, the runes etched into the dark steel catching sparks of firelight.

Married for a year. Sharing quarters. Sharing life.

But not yet sharing this.

You woke before him this morning—nervous, lightheaded, and unsure if it was the excitement or the nausea. The charm had flickered gold. Clear. Definite. Pregnant.

You had stared at the glow for a long time, heart hammering. Then smiled. Then whispered, “Bastian, we’re going to…” But you never finished the sentence. He was still asleep.

You’d tell him at breakfast, you told yourself. Over tea. Light-hearted, soft. You’d tease him about baby names just to see him flinch, then laugh it off before telling him it was real.

But now—

“Honestly,” chuckles Professor Beasley from the other end of the table, reaching for a scone, “I don’t know how you two manage it. Married and working together. You’re both saints. If I had to share an office with my husband, I’d hex him into next week.”

Bastian smirks faintly beside you, eyes still on his tea. “We survive by not sharing an office.”

A few chuckles.

Then Professor Delaney, her hair already frizzing from the lake air, chimes in. “Oh, come off it. It’s adorable. You two always look like you’re keeping some delicious secret.” She winks. “Speaking of which… any plans for little Rowles running around the castle soon?”

You freeze.

The entire room doesn’t go silent—but your ears do. Your heart skips a beat, then begins pounding again, too loud in your chest.

Bastian lets out a short breath. Not annoyed. Just… quiet.

He places his cup down with careful fingers. “I don’t think that’s in the cards,” he says, his voice even. “Some of us… weren’t made for that sort of life.”

There’s no bitterness in his tone. Just finality. Like he’s rehearsed this before—said it enough times that it’s become a part of him. Fact, not feeling.

Laughter falters. Professor Delaney waves a hand. “Oh, don’t say that. You’d be a brilliant dad. Intimidating, sure, but the kind who secretly bakes things and pretends he didn’t.”

Bastian offers a faint smile. “I’d rather keep my students alive before considering children of my own.”

It’s a joke. Sort of.

And the others move on, the conversation shifting easily to something about Peeves and a misplaced suit of armor.

But your throat is tight.

You stare down into your tea, now cold. That smile you had rehearsed this morning is gone. All the joy bubbling inside you just hours ago has dulled beneath a slow, aching weight.

You don’t look at him. You can’t. Because you know if you do, he’ll see it.

You’d been ready to tell him.

Now, the charm sits quietly in your robe pocket. Burning.

He turns toward you gently, nudging your knee under the table with his own. “Hey,” he says lowly, voice just for you. “You’ve gone quiet. Everything alright?”

You glance up at him and force the smallest smile. “Yeah,” you lie. “Just tired.”

He watches you a moment longer, like he knows something’s not right—but not what. Not yet.

He leans in and kisses your temple before standing. “I’ll see you after class.”

You nod.

And as he walks away, you tuck a hand over your stomach.

Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow. Just… not today.