Going Home (Selah)

[Dorian Innes]

It was late, nearing two in the morning, and Dorian knew it was reckless, brazen, perhaps even stupid to appear uninvited and unannounced, yet he couldn’t wait any longer. Once he had finished with the dance and ensured the students were safely back in their dorms, he left Hogwarts immediately. Seeing Selah tonight, after so long, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise. He could only hope she felt the same, or at least that he wasn’t unwelcome. Even if she was asleep, he had no choice; if he didn’t come tonight, he would lose his nerve entirely.

Dorian Apparated onto the doorstep with a soft pop and lingered there for a long moment, staring at the door without moving. With a heavy sigh, he pulled a cigarette from the packet he kept in his pocket just in case; he had hoped he’d quit by now. He had cut back significantly, but tonight his hands shook too much for restraint. He didn’t love that the smoke would cling to him, and part of him wished he had a flask of whisky instead, but this addiction was the lesser of two evils.

Lighting the cigarette, Dorian drew in long, slow drags, letting the smoke fill his lungs and steady the tremor in his chest before exhaling sharply. When he finished, he dropped the stub to the ground, tamped it out with his boot, and then vanished it entirely. Bracing himself for what he needed to do, Dorian raised his hand and knocked on the door, every second stretching, every heartbeat pounding in his ears, fully aware that the moment she answered that there would be no turning back.

[Selah Innes]

She'd returned home, stripped out of her best dress, showered and put on her comfy clothes before settling into the couch downstairs to rot. Out of everything that had happened the last thing she'd expected was Dorian actually speaking to her, Selah hadn't been prepared for that. But of course duty had called and their conversation had been cut painfully short which felt fitting anymore. Everything had been painful as of late and she'd just learned to bear it, move on and keep going regardless of how badly she'd wanted to collapse into the pain.

Cailleach chirped from her perch softly, she'd been trying more as of late to converse in her own way with Selah and she knew it but it just wasn't the same. The silence had been eating at her more and more especially since she'd been offered that position Stateside. Was she really considering it? It certainly couldn't be worse than living with ghosts like she was now. She had no idea how long she'd just sat there curled into herself beneath a quilt before the clock chimed an hour far later than it should have and she dragged herself upstairs to bed.

Their bed.

Selah hadn't wanted to change the sheets or wash it or anything since Nigel had brought him home that one night completely sloshed out of his mind, she couldn't fault the man neither was in their right mind. He just brought his friend home, where he thought he belonged. Where Selah wanted him to belong but Dorian thought otherwise and she couldn't convince him differently especially when he didn't want to talk to her, but he had talked to her tonight though hadn't he? Even for just a few sentences?

She had of course because otherwise her mind would have actually driven her mad. Climbing into her side she settled in and closed her eyes, feeling that now all too familiar cold settled around her; the lack of warmth that came from being there alone. Sleep was surface level, she didn't dream anymore so when that knock came at the door she heard it clearly and her lashes lifted immediately glancing at the time. Climbing from the bed she threw on her robe and made her way downstairs wondering what emergency would be waiting now before she unlocked the door and pulled it open, "Can I…" Her words died when she saw who was standing there and Selah swallowed hard, "... Dorian?"

[Dorian Innes]

The door opened, and Dorian’s breath caught before he could stop it.

Selah looked nothing like she had at the dance, and somehow that made it worse. There was no careful composure now, just her, in her comfortable clothes and a robe, like he’d seen her a hundred times before. The sight of it pulled him somewhere he hadn’t let himself go in a long time: evenings spent here, slow mornings, a life that had once felt easy. For a fleeting second, it almost felt natural to step forward, to walk inside like he belonged there, like he was coming home from work and nothing between them had ever broken.

But it had.

“…Dorian?”

“Yeah,” he answered, a little hoarse, his throat tight, crowded with everything else he could have said. I’m sorry it’s so late. You look beautiful. I shouldn’t have come like this. I’ve missed you. Did I wake you? The words pressed forward, one over the other, but none of them made it past his lips.

Dorian hesitated, just for a second, caught between saying too much and not enough, before settling on the only thing he could manage. “Can I come in?”

[Selah Innes]

For a moment, Selah just stared at him.

Not because she didn’t understand the question but because there was something about the way he stood there that unraveled her completely. The hesitation, the roughness in his voice, the way he looked at her like stepping over that threshold meant more than just crossing a doorway. It wasn’t the first time he’d stood there.

But it was the first time it felt like he didn’t know if he was allowed to. Her fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the door, grounding herself as a hundred thoughts rushed through her at once. How many nights had she imagined this? Him showing up. Choosing her. Saying something anything that meant he hadn’t let go.

And now he was here. Not polished, not guarded like at the ball; but real. Uncertain. Trying. Her throat tightened, and for a second she was afraid if she spoke too quickly, her voice might betray her. But she didn’t make him wait long. She never could. “…You don’t have to ask that,” she said softly.

The words weren’t sharp, not accusatory; just quiet, honest. Because to her, he had never stopped belonging there, no matter how far he’d pulled away. Selah stepped back, opening the door wider for him, her hand lingering on it as if she needed that small anchor to keep herself steady. “Of course you can come in.”

Her gaze flickered over him then, taking him in properly; like she hadn’t had the chance to at the ball. There was something different now. Not just the exhaustion she’d seen before, but something heavier… something resolved, maybe. Or at least trying to be.

She swallowed gently, closing the door behind him once he stepped inside, the quiet of the house settling around them like it always used to. For a moment, she didn’t move any closer, even though every instinct in her begged her to. Instead, she turned to face him fully, hands coming together loosely in front of her; not clenched this time, just… held.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” she admitted, her voice soft but steady. Not I hoped. Not I waited. Just the truth he could handle. A small pause. “…Is everything alright?”

[Dorian Innes]

As touched as he was by her assertion that he didn't need to ask to come in, the instinct to argue rose immediately. Whatever claim Dorian had once had to this house, he had surrendered it the day he walked out and stayed gone. But the words died before they reached his tongue. He had come here hoping to make things right, or at least begin trying, and starting an argument over a kindness she had offered freely seemed like the worst possible way to begin.

The familiarity of the house hit him immediately as he stepped inside. Part of him wanted to kick off his boots by the door and drape his robes over the bannister without a second thought, the way he had done countless times before. The other part couldn't shake the feeling that he was a guest standing in someone else's home. In the end, he settled for something in between. He untied his boots and set them neatly beside the door before hanging up his robes with a care he would never have bothered with in the past.

Dorian glanced back at Selah as she asked if everything was alright. He wasn't entirely sure what she meant. Did she mean Hogwarts? The reason he had rushed away?

Or did she mean him?

The answer to that question was considerably more complicated.

"Sure," he said anyway, with all the conviction of a poorly constructed lie.

His gaze dropped away from hers almost immediately. It wasn't even an answer, and they both knew it. Why was this so difficult?

His gaze drifted through the house as he moved farther inside. It looked much the same as he remembered, albeit cleaner without the clutter he used to leave behind wherever he went. Crossing to the living room, Dorian lowered himself onto the couch, only to realize a second too late that he had chosen his usual spot. The realization that Selah's usual place was right beside him twisted something painfully in his chest.

His first instinct was to stand again, to move to one of the armchairs and spare them both the awkwardness of pretending things were normal. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Leaving that space empty felt worse somehow, like admitting he no longer belonged there. Would she remain standing, or choose another seat? He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but he found himself waiting for it all the same, his heart thrumming painfully in his chest.

He rubbed a hand across his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath his palm, and finally looked up again. His eyes flicked toward the clock before returning to her standing there in her robe and nightclothes. Fuck. It was late. He was a right bastard for showing up on her doorstep at this hour with no real emergency other than his own failing nerve. He swallowed the self-directed anger before it could leak into his expression, shaping his voice into something quieter, gentler than what he felt. "Did I wake you?"

[Selah Innes]

The question caught her off guard. Not because of what he asked, but because of how normal it was. After months of silence, after everything that had happened between them, Dorian had shown up at two in the morning looking like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the first thing he asked was if he'd woken her. Selah stared at him for a moment before something small and sad tugged at the corner of her mouth. "No, not really…" she admitted.

The answer felt insignificant compared to everything else hanging in the room. She watched him sitting there in his spot on the couch, shoulders tense, looking simultaneously familiar and strangely out of place. For a second she remained standing, uncertainty rooting her to the floor. Then, before she could overthink it, she crossed the room and lowered herself onto the cushion beside him. Not too close. Not far away either. The space between them felt measured in inches and months all at once.

"It's not like I'm missing much by being awake anyway." Her fingers toyed absently with the sleeve of her robe. That much was true. Most nights she slept lightly now. Some nights she barely slept at all. The silence settled again, quieter this time, and Selah found herself studying him from the corner of her eye. The stubble. The exhaustion. The way he kept rubbing at his jaw when something was bothering him.

The way he looked like he hadn't been taking care of himself. A familiar ache bloomed in her chest. "You know," she said softly, "this is still your home too, Dorian." Her gaze lifted fully to his then. "I mean it isn't as if anything is written in stone yet." There was no accusation in it. No anger. Just truth. And maybe a little hope.

Her throat tightened. "Dorian..." The sound of his name came out quieter than she'd intended. Her eyes searched his face. "Are you alright?" A pause. Then, because she'd spent months wishing he would finally let her in instead of shutting another door between them, she asked the question she thought he had really come here to answer. "Did something happen tonight?"

[Dorian Innes]

It seemed like Selah was going to remain standing, and then — Dorian let out a breath as she crossed the room and sat down beside him. Not too close, but close enough. For a moment, all he could think about was reaching for her, letting her settle against him with her head on his chest while he ran a hand through her hair. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, his knuckles whitening where his hands rested as he forced himself not to move.

At her offhand mention of not sleeping much, Dorian stole a glance at her. He had noticed at the ball, but hearing it spoken made it settle differently. For a brief moment, something pained flickered in his eyes before he looked away again. It was easier that way. Looking at her made it harder to ignore what he already knew, and harder still to separate it from himself. His attention stayed fixed somewhere ahead instead and he said nothing in response.

Silence settled between them. Dorian could tell she was watching him, even without looking; just from the small shift in how she was positioned beside him, attention clearly on him without needing to say it. Perhaps it was because he knew her so well, or perhaps it was training, but either way, he didn’t meet her gaze. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her again; each second she sat beside him, Dorian felt his restraint thinning, his control harder to maintain.

Selah spoke again, telling him it was still his home and that nothing was written in stone yet, and Dorian gave no indication that he'd heard her. His expression remained blank, unreadable. Only the words themselves lingered, turning over in his mind. Yet. The single word caught and refused to leave. Was she trying to tell him there was still a choice to be made? Trying to open the conversation he had avoided for months? Or was she simply offering him a place to stay, a kindness without expectations attached to it? Dorian sat with it for a long moment, face still, eyes unfocused ahead, before giving a small, delayed nod that didn’t commit to anything beyond acknowledgement.

When she asked if he was alright, Dorian didn’t answer, holding back the automatic response that he was fine when neither of them would have believed it. When she followed with whether something had happened tonight, Dorian finally reacted. “No, no—tonight was business as usual,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion, but steady, as if to make clear there was nothing in that regard she needed to worry about. Something had happened at Hogwarts, certainly, but it wasn’t his story to tell, and none of it was the reason he had Apparated onto her doorstep in the middle of the night.

Dorian shifted on the couch, then scrubbed a hand back through his hair and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared at the floor. His hand moved without him really thinking about it, fingers brushing briefly at his wedding band before stilling there. After a moment, he looked at Selah, properly looked, for the first time since she’d sat down.
It wasn’t a long look. He didn’t let it become one. But for a moment, the distance in his expression faltered before he forced it back into place. It held only for a fraction of a second, then he dropped his gaze again just as quickly, jaw tightening as if the act of looking had cost him something.

“But I’m—” His voice cracked. Deep and rough as it always was, but breaking suddenly into something close to a sob before he could stop it. The sound startled him more than anything else, like it didn’t belong to him at all. He cut himself off immediately, as if stopping the words could undo it.

A pause.

“Selah… do you want something written in stone?” he asked quietly, returning to her earlier words because the alternative was harder to say out loud.

[Selah Innes]

The question settled between them. Not because she didn't understand it. Because she did. Selah's gaze dropped immediately to where his hand rested against his wedding band. The sight of it made something ache in her chest. He still wore it. After everything. After months. He still wore it. Then again so did she.

For a moment she couldn't find her voice. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant ticking of the clock and the sound of her own heartbeat thudding painfully against her ribs. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. "No." The answer came easily.

Too easily. Selah looked down at her own hands folded in her lap, "I don't." Her thumb rubbed absently across the gold band she wore, a habit she'd never quite managed to break. A faint laugh escaped her, though there wasn't much humor in it. "If I'm being honest, I thought agreeing to the separation would do the opposite."

Her throat tightened. "I thought maybe if you had some space you'd figure things out. That you'd cool off and eventually..." She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. "Talk." Actually talk. Not fight. Not pretend everything was fine afterward. Not keep circling the same hurt until it swallowed them both.

Her eyes lifted back to him. "I didn't agree because I wanted our marriage to end…" The words were steady despite how much they hurt, "...I agreed because I didn't know what else to do." There it was. The truth she'd never really said out loud. Selah studied his profile for a moment before continuing. "I spent months wondering if you'd already made your decision."

Her voice softened. "Wondering if one day I'd just come home to papers." The thought still stung. She swallowed. "But that is not what I want, Dorian." It never was and Selah was hard pressed to keep the knot in her own throat at bay. The distinction mattered. Her gaze lingered on him, taking in the exhaustion he wore like a second skin. The sadness. The fear.

The man she loved. "I want my husband back." The admission came quietly. No anger. No accusations. Just honesty. A small pause followed.Then, more gently, "But only if he wants to come back and be my husband." Her eyes searched his face. For the first time since opening the door, Selah shifted slightly closer. Not enough to touch him, not yet even though she desperately wanted too. She missed him but close enough that the distance felt less impossible. "Why are you here, Dorian?"

[Dorian Innes]

Relief came first, quiet enough that Dorian almost didn’t recognize it. Selah didn’t want a divorce; she hadn’t spent the last few months waiting for the marriage to end any more than he had. The knot that had lived in his chest for months eased, only to tighten again almost immediately when she said she wanted her husband back.

She thought she wanted him back, but she didn’t know everything. She remembered the man he’d been before he left, and even then he hadn’t been a good husband. Closed off. Defensive. Quicker to argue than to listen. Better at pretending everything was fine than admitting when it wasn’t. Leaving hadn’t changed any of that. If anything, Dorian was worse now, and the thought of telling her made him feel physically sick. She was sitting beside him asking for that man back. Would she still want him once she knew who he had become?

A long breath escaped him as Dorian leaned back against the couch, letting his head rest there for a moment and closing his eyes as he took in everything she had said. He was tired in a way that sat deep in his bones. Tired of night shifts and sleepless nights, of secrets that seemed to grow heavier with every passing day, of standing at every turn and seeing only paths that ended in loss, with him hurting the woman sitting beside him, and hurting himself.

When Selah asked why he was there, Dorian’s first instinct was still there, immediate and familiar, to snap back that she had just told him it was still his home. The kind of answer that turned a question into an argument and let him step away from what was actually being asked. For a moment, he simply stayed like that, leaning back, eyes closed, as if too tired to decide whether to follow it or not. Then it passed. Whether that meant he was changing his ways or simply too worn down to fall back into old habits, he couldn’t have said.

Dorian finally opened his eyes and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, shoulders settling into something more present, more deliberate. His gaze found hers. “I’m here because…” His voice was quiet, roughened by exhaustion. He swallowed once. “After seeing you at the dance tonight… I couldn’t stay away any longer.” It was the truth, even if it wasn’t quite the answer she’d been asking for.

The clock broke the silence, its deep chime carrying through the house. Once. Twice. Two o’clock. A weekday. Dorian’s eyes lifted toward it before returning to Selah. She would have work in a few hours, and so would he. They could sit here until sunrise and it still wouldn’t be enough time to unravel the months - years, if he was being honest. He let out another long, weary breath.

“It’s late,” he said quietly. “And this… this isn’t something we fix in one conversation. Coming here doesn’t mean I’ve figured anything out. I wasn’t a good husband before I left, Selah.” His eyes dropped briefly to the ring on his finger. “I don’t think I’m a better one now.” A muscle tightened in his jaw as he continued. “There are things you don’t know yet. Things I have to tell you.” He swallowed, the admission sitting heavily in his throat. “And I don’t know what happens after you hear them.”

[Selah Innes]

The room seemed to shrink around them. She heard everything he said. That seeing her tonight had brought him here. That he hadn't figured everything out. That he hadn't been a good husband. She wanted to argue with that last part. To tell him he wasn't giving himself enough credit. That yes, they'd struggled, they'd fought, but there had been so much good too. The words never came. Because then he said there were things she didn't know. Things he had to tell her. Things that might change everything.

Selah felt her stomach drop. Her fingers instinctively curled tighter around the sleeve of her robe as a thousand possibilities crashed through her mind all at once. Had he gotten himself into trouble? Was he sick? Had something happened at work? Or…

The thought arrived uninvited. Brutal. Her chest tightened so sharply she almost couldn't breathe. Months apart. Months of loneliness. Months where she'd lain awake in their bed wondering if he was warm enough, if he'd eaten, if he was sleeping any better than she was. Months where she'd never once looked at another man because, separated or not, she was still his wife. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

No.

She didn't know why her mind had gone there. Maybe because she couldn't imagine what else could possibly make him believe she wouldn't want him anymore. Maybe because fear had a way of filling silence with monsters. She swallowed hard, forcing herself back into the room. Back to him. Dorian looked exhausted. Not guilty. Not defensive. Terrified.

Slowly, almost cautiously, Selah reached across the small distance between them and rested her hand over his where it still lay near his wedding band. She gave him every chance to pull away. When he didn't, her thumb brushed lightly across his knuckles. "You've been carrying this by yourself." It wasn't really a question. She could see it. Hear it. Feel it in the way every word seemed to cost him something.

Her own voice was quieter now. "You don't have to protect me from the truth." Even as she said it, her heart hammered so violently she wondered if he could hear it. Because she wasn't sure she believed herself. Not completely. She was frightened. More frightened than she'd been in months. Her eyes searched his, desperately trying to find some answer before he gave one. "Dorian..."

She drew a slow, unsteady breath. "Whatever it is..." Another pause. "...just tell me… please don't let me imagine something worse." It was the closest she could come to admitting where her mind had gone without forcing words into his mouth. Without accusing him. Without asking the question she was suddenly terrified to hear answered. "I'd rather hear it from you."