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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence (Cruciatus effect)
Relationships: Ominis Gaunt x MC
Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, POV Ominis Gaunt, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Sebastian Sallow is a mess, First Kiss
“I was so foolish. But now I see everything. And I understand everything.”
In the suffocating darkness of Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium, Ominis felt his heart shatter alongside the girl he loved. He held her through the agony of the Cruciatus, feeling every spasm and every silent tear, while Sebastian looked only at the prize he had won.
But who was the real winner?
The cold of the stone seeped beneath Ominis's robe, chilling him to the bone. Darkness had always been his companion; it had enveloped him since childhood, and he had long ago learned to adapt to its silent reign. But now, standing in this stifling dungeon, he felt like a helpless child once more. Sebastian's heavy breathing, his confident voice, and ideas that balanced dangerously on the edge of fanaticism and madness reminded him all too much of the times Ominis was forced to commit horrific things.
She was there, right beside them. Ready to obey Sebastian's every request as if he were her compass. Ominis could hear her ragged breathing and feel the frantic rhythm of her heart. He recognised their shadows through the vibration of his wand—the dim flashes of magic in the absolute blackness that he had grown accustomed to.
Why didn't they listen to his warnings? Why did Sebastian throw himself so recklessly into the abyss of risk? Why did he never consider the consequences?
And the most painful question: why Sebastian? Why did he have such power over her? How did he manage to so easily command her thoughts, her decisions, and that damn heartbeat of a Hufflepuff who had only appeared at school in her fifth year, yet had managed to turn Ominis's world upside down?
"Why did you tell me that you like him?" the silent question he could never ask her.
"Ready?" Sebastian's voice reflected from the stone walls of Scriptorium.
"I'm ready." Her steady voice followed.
Until the very last moment, Ominis refused to believe they would actually go through with it. The world around him tightened like a strained string. He felt the air crackle painfully as Sebastian made a sharp, jagged motion with his wand—a movement Ominis knew far too well to ever mistake.
"Crucio!" Sebastian cried out, his voice cracked, but in that shout, there was as much despair as there was cruel determination.
The girl's screams and moans of agony filled the dungeon. It was a sound that tore through his heart and soul more violently than any curse ever could. The air of the Scriptorium was instantly saturated with the acrid scent of ozone and the bitter taste of infernal suffering.
Something shattered irreversibly inside Ominis; he realised that his friendship with Sebastian would never be the same again. Even the darkest wizard cannot cast Cruciatus without a sincere, burning desire to inflict pain upon another human being. This meant only one thing—his best friend was willing to sacrifice absolutely everything for the sake of his goal.
After reading dozens of tomes from the Restricted Section, Sebastian had come to believe that Anne could only be helped by the very dark magic that had cursed her. "Fire must be fought with fire," he would often repeat.
Ominis had felt a weight of guilt since the moment he caught her leaving the Undercroft. It was then he began to realise that for his friend, this girl was merely a means to an end. But now he knew another, much worse truth: for her, Sebastian was the entire world.
"Are you all right?" Sebastian asked.
Ominis heard a dull thud—the sound of heavy fabric hitting the stone floor—and felt a faint rush of air from where his friends stood.
"The pain—" the girl breathed heavily, each word requiring an incredible effort, "it is excruciating, but I'll survive."
Ominis heard Sebastian's heavy, receding footsteps. The boy immediately surged forward—toward the knowledge, toward Salazar, toward his goal. He didn't even look back to check if she was still breathing. Cursed egoist.
"We made it. We found Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium. I can't believe it."
Raising his wand, Ominis saw a dim haze before his eyes—the blurred silhouette of the girl curled up on the cold, stony ground, shuddering from the echoes of the curse. He approached her cautiously and sank to his knees, forgetting all pride and the filth.
"Ominis... it hurts so much... Why does it hurt so much, Ominis?"
"I know," he whispered softly, "it will pass. Shh, it will all pass."
She was trembling in his arms. Her body temperature shifted in a matter of seconds—from searing heat to icy cold. Even through layers of fabric, he could feel her muscles twitching in spasms. Ominis carefully pulled her closer, trying not to touch her bare skin; right now, any contact could be perceived by her raw nerves as the strike of a hundred red-hot needles.
"Ominis," a note of true panic rang in her voice, "Ominis, I can't see! I can't see anything! Merlin... nothing at all..."
She breathed heavily and rapidly, like a cornered animal, frozen in his embrace.
"I know," he said, trying to project a sense of calm even though everything inside him was screaming with rage and helplessness. "I know. Just a little longer."
He gently rested his palm on the crown of her head.
"Does it hurt when I touch you like this?"
Ominis began to slowly stroke her soft hair. He had long since memorised her scent—rose and honey. Because of his blindness, he sensed this sweet trail that followed her everywhere much more acutely. Her hair spilled beneath his fingers like fine silk. The boy had already forgotten the last time he had touched something so tender.
"Shh, wait just a little longer."
He remembered these sensations all too well—he had lived through them as a young boy. When total oblivion set in, and nothing remained but sharp, unbearable pain. It felt as if the blood instantly turned into molten lead circulating through the veins. Every bone heated to a white glow and began to slowly melt inside the muscles.
"Ominis, I'm burning... take off my robes, please, Ominis," she murmured deliriously.
"Just a bit longer," he whispered, only pulling her closer into a tighter embrace while continuing his soothing strokes through her hair.
In a moment, the world vanished. There was only emptiness and a scream—for as long as there was air in the scorched lungs. The brain was incapable of processing such a deluge of damage signals, so it felt as if the skull is about to burst from the within. The body thrashed in convulsions that cannot be stilled by will alone. One must simply wait it out.
"I'm going to be sick..."
"Whatever it takes for you to feel better," he said, fumbling for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Does it still hurt that much?"
"No... your hand is so cold, Ominis," she whispered almost inaudibly. "I... I'm starting to see again."
Her body gradually relaxed, the fever receded, and the spasms grew less frequent. Ominis softly massaged her palm, trying to soothe her fingers, which still twitched nervously. They were thin and long, and her skin felt incredibly delicate to the touch. It felt so right and pleasant that, for a moment, he forgot where they were.
"I found the book!" Sebastian's voice echoed triumphantly from the depths of the Scriptorium. "It's the spellbook of Salazar Slytherin himself!"
"Oh, Sebastian..." Ominis exhaled heavily, feeling the moment of intimacy dissolve.
"The main thing is that he got what he wanted," the girl added quietly.
To Ominis, those words sounded like a death sentence. He wanted to scream that Sebastian was blinded by his own egoism and was unworthy of such sacrifice. But he remained silent. She had entrusted him with the secret of her feelings as if he were her friend, and he had no right to betray that trust, no matter how painful it was.
"Ominis, I think I'm alright now. Shall we go?" her breathing had finally calmed, and her heartbeat had leveled out.
She began to slowly slip from his embrace. Ominis felt a sudden chill; he wanted to turn to stone, to freeze time, if only to avoid letting her go. But instead, he was the first to rise to his feet and offer her his hand. The girl stood up cautiously, thanked him quietly, and headed toward the Scriptorium with an unsteady step. Ominis, his head bowed in dejection, followed after her.
"This is incredible. A Hogwarts founder's possession—what an honour." Sebastian was focused on Spellbook only. Obsessed, possessed, and fully blind. "Still can't believe Ominis never told me about his aunt and what she found." He didn't even realise that the friend could hear all. Foolish insane boy.
"What will you do with Slytherin's spellbook?" Her voice was still weak but he neither noticed nor cared. That girl, that beautiful, kind, wonderful girl was fully blind. She didn't see how obsessive, how manipulative and selfish he was. Ominis truly loved Sebastian, he perceived him as a brother, not by blood, but by life. But now Sebastian looked like Ominis's real brothers.
"What I do with every book: read it." Oh, Merlin, help all of them. "Having professors as parents ingrained that habit early on. But I can't do this later. For now, I say we explore this room. It's breathtaking."
Ominis did not want to remain here for a single moment longer. The darkness of this place was crushing him, and it was not the familiar night he lived in every day. Something else lingered in the air—thick, stifling, and cloying. It was the dark legacy of the Slytherin-Gaunt family, which seemed to recognise its descendant, whispering directly into his blood.
"I've been getting an uneasy feeling about this place. We shouldn't linger here. Let's find a way out, please."
"I don't want to leave," said Sebastian with voice that didn't mean anything good. "But I owe you—both of you. Without both of you, we'd never have made it this far."
Ominis had already regretted agreeing to this adventure a hundred times.
"We were lucky—we could have died—we must swear never to do this again."
Ominis heard the scraping and rustling of stone—the secret passage had finally yielded. The scent of dampness and stagnant earth filled the cramped room.
"Let's go, Ominis," she said, gently taking his hand.
She. Took. His. Hand. The boy's heart skipped a beat, then hammered with renewed force, echoing in the very fingertips she was touching.
Within minutes, they were back in the corridors of Hogwarts, but relief did not come. Ominis was suffocating with anger and despair. Rage at Sebastian—for dragging them into this hell. At her—for blindly supporting his every mad decision. And at himself—for once again allowing himself to be deceived by the hope of his friend's sanity.
Ominis didn't hold back: he screamed at Sebastian, accusing him of using Dark Arts and crossing every possible line. His friend made excuses, bringing up Noctua, but Ominis didn't hear him. His head was splitting from the chaos of his emotions. The only thing he craved now was to lock himself away alone and scream until his throat was hoarse, just to release all the gloom that had gathered inside him.
Yet, amidst the fury and despair, the feeling of her warm palm in his hand still flickered. And as much as it contradicted his mood, he felt a sense of gratitude. Now, at last, he knew the truth about his aunt's fate, and this painful resolution brought him a strange sort of peace.
That night, falling asleep in the fifth-year dormitory, he warmed his soul with crumbs of light: the truth about Noctua and the sweet memory of the touch of the girl he was hopelessly in love with.
Several days passed. Sebastian had vanished to Feldcroft, spending time with Anne while Solomon was away on business. He spoke incessantly to Ominis about everything he had unearthed in Slytherin's spellbook and how it could save his sister, but Ominis fought with all his might to tune out those conversations.
He could still feel her body beneath his fingers, writhing in convulsions. He remembered her burning skin, her silken hair. Her cry, saturated with suffering, and that weak voice pleading for him to hold her hand.
In some strange way, the shared trauma of that curse had drawn them closer. Now, the girl sat beside him more and more often: in the library, during lectures, or by the fountain in the Central Hall.
Ominis was torn in two. One part of him craved to spend every minute with her, to talk for hours and learn everything she would allow. The other part begged him to run, to hide, to disappear. He realised that with each passing day, the desire to touch her, to breathe in the scent of her hair, was becoming unbearable. Sooner or later, he simply wouldn't be able to restrain himself. And he couldn't allow that—fear and doubt were eroding him from within.
Ominis could still feel her muscles periodically seizing, her breath faltering, her heart suddenly skipping a beat. He knew this was the echo of the Cruciatus—aftereffects that could last for months. But he also knew how to help.
He gently massaged her tense fingers, which sometimes refused to obey her brain when she tried to hold a wand or a spoon at dinner. He brought her the calming draughts he kept for himself in case his own nightmares returned.
He learned to feel her condition through the rhythm of her heart and the depth of her intake of breath. Her breathing told him more about her emotions than words ever could. They spent so much time together that it seemed to Ominis the scent of rose and honey had taken up residence even in his dormitory.
A few months passed, and Ominis was ready to sink into the earth from his own helplessness. She touched him more frequently, more boldly. She would catch his hand while walking the streets of Hogsmeade. She might doze off on his shoulder during a tedious History of Magic lesson. She even wiped soot from his face in Potions class with a light, barely perceptible flick of her finger.
"Good. Now your white aristocratic skin is clean again," she would laugh, more sincerely than anyone else in the world.
And he couldn't stand it.
And he didn't have the strength to make himself stop wanting.
So he sat on the pier by the boathouse, listening to the peaceful lapping of the Black Lake. This sound had always acted on him like a lullaby. Ominis had sought out this place back in his first year, when he desperately sought to hide from the mockery of cruel classmates.
He emerged from his thoughts, hearing familiar light footsteps behind him. He raised his head, listening, and the footsteps ceased.
"I know you're there," he said calmly. "I recognised your gait from a distance."
He heard her exhale—relief. She stepped closer and sat beside him.
"Ominis, are you hiding?" there was a warm smile in her voice. "I've been looking for you all day."
"I just wanted to be alone."
"I don't believe you," she replied softly. "Lately, it's as if you're distancing yourself. You spend hours in the dungeons and avoid me in the Great Hall."
With every word, her voice grew quieter, losing its confidence. The smile faded.
"You can tell me anything," she placed her palm over his.
For a moment, his heart stopped. Through the touch, he felt a faint pulsation in her blood.
"Are you still having spasms?"
"Yes, but rarely now. Your potion helped a lot, and I never did thank you properly. You saved me from so many reckless mistakes," he heard the smile return to her voice.
She leaned closer—Ominis felt the warmth of her body. The palm still resting on his hand squeezed his fingers slightly, causing his cheeks to flush betrayingly, while his heart felt as though it might burst from his chest.
"Ominis, you've looked after me all this time. You warmed my trembling hands; you reacted to every painful impulse of my body. You felt my every heartbeat, caught every breath, while my thoughts were occupied with someone else," she exhaled against his shoulder. "I was so foolish. But now I see everything. And I understand everything."
"W-what?" he forgot how to breathe, how to pull himself together. "W-what exactly d-do you mean?"
"Oh, Ominis..." she laughed softly.
She leaned forward and weightlessly brushed his cheek with her lips. In that moment, Ominis felt as if he would explode. The world around him ceased to exist from that simple, almost childlike kiss.
"Ominis, turn your face to me. Please," she whispered so closely, as if it were the most important secret in the world.
And he obeyed. He turned to her, every muscle tense, frozen in anticipation of the unknown.
In the next moment, his reality dissolved. Problems, curses, lessons—everything vanished. There were only the two of them: her soft lips covering his own, the familiar scent of rose and honey, and the silk of her hair finally sliding through his fingers.
Pulling away, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. She had done this countless times in History of Magic, but this time, everything was different.
Ominis had finally ceased to be just a friend. He had become the whole world to her.
