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girlsworldillusion · 2 months ago

Text

so this is what falling in love is like?

Ominis Gaunt x Gryffindor Reader

Summary: “Ominis, what — what are you trying to say?”

He breathes your name huskily, and you feel your cheeks tingle with the heat of a fresh flush of blush.

“I’m in love with you,” he says earnestly, more whispering the words than saying them, his hand tightening in yours a fraction more, and all you can do is stare at him in utter shock.

Where a night of studying at the Undercroft grows into something much bigger than you expected.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Word count: 9k

Artist: (x) @oladcnfthb

Author's Note: My first fanfic of the HP universe. Not the last, if I may have a choice. I hope you all like it, your comments will be greatly appreciated by this poor writer.

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

"And then I heard this girl, Grace Withey, or Whitney, I'm not sure now," the boy mutters thoughtfully before dismissing the question with an exquisite wave of his hand, "either way, she was asking if he had time to offer 'some much needed and much appreciated guidance in the Care of Magical Creatures', like she said. She claimed to be a disaster in that class, though it seemed like she was doing quite well before he arrived, if you ask me."

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh, but keep your eyes closed as you listen to Ominis report the detailed case of the latest romantic incident that simply fell into Sebastian's lap - emphasis on report, as this could never be classified as gossip. Ominis Gaunt has never stooped to the social stratagem that is the art of spreading gossip, as he himself makes a point of reminding you every time that possibility is remotely suggested in some witty comment.

After a long study session, you were both lounging carefree on the opulent burgundy couch set against one wall; a gaudy luxury that you fought tooth and nail to add to the cold expanse of the undercroft so that you could rest while you did some reading, or simply when you were too tired to return to your dormitories. Two tall stacks of books rested on the low table in front of you, some even open and scattered across the carpet on the floor, as well as piles of half-scribbled parchment, inkwells and quills. The flickering flames arranged in the braziers hanging on the walls provided an orange illumination that was both functional and comforting to the eyes. In the cushioned space between you two lay the remains of two boxes of Chocolate Frogs - his clearly opened in a much more elegant manner than yours.

Outside the castle the snow fell without stopping, freezing everything around with its cloud of crystals, but inside the walls you felt safe and warm.

"She was clearly interested in more than just his guidance on creature care."

Despite the suggestive tone, there's a soft smile on your lips as you says this, your feet swinging languidly on the tabletop where they're propped up on top of each other.

"No surprise there." He snorts beside you, a sullen quality to his tone that definitely wasn't there a few seconds ago. "This sort of thing always happens to him. And oh, he's so pompous about it too, really insufferable. It's obvious by now that he can have any girl in school, even some boys I dare say, and he's amply and unfortunately very aware of it. It's annoying that he has that kind of power, if you ask me."

This time you can't help the amused chuckle that escapes your lips, perfectly conjuring behind closed eyelids the sullen pout the man is surely making just by his tone of voice.

"Careful now, Gaunt, some poor unsuspecting person who hears you speak like that might interpret your words as jealousy." Your tone oscillates between a weak attempt at reprimand and amusement, enjoying poking the poor man. "What's wrong, haven't you been getting enough attention from the student masses?"

It was a teasing comment, intentional in the aim of maintaining the fun and pleasant atmosphere that surrounded them. But when a few good seconds pass without him saying anything in return, you slowly allow your eyes to open, staring at the Slytherin sitting next to you.

The first thing you notice is how tense his body is; shoulders rigid and head turned away from you, hands clenched tightly on his thighs. He looks uncomfortable in every tiny line of his tall body. He's not denying what you suggested and you've teased him enough times in the past to know that he should have done so already if he disagreed with your words.

"I would find such a notion rather unbelievable if that were the case, of course, since this is you we're talking about." You murmur slowly when it becomes obvious he's not going to respond, watching his every reaction intently as you fish for information.

"What—wait, what are you talking about?" He looks a little dazed, tilting his head toward you just a fraction, but you continue your train of thought, taking advantage of the fact that you have his attention once more.

"Well, you're Ominis Gaunt. Not only do you have all that physical representation of cold elegance and an aura of royalty that your House so annoyingly likes to impose, but you're also a member of one of the most notorious families in the wizarding world. It's hard to believe that there isn't a line of lovestruck hearts out there just waiting for an opportunity to date you. I bet you're just as popular as Sebastian these days - you're just more discreet about it than him, obviously."

Your comment, although honest in every word, is made innocently, with no apparent justification for any fuss - just sincere curiosity about the question raised. And that's why you're taken aback by his reaction to you. Even though he remains frozen where he sits with all the grace and refinement of an enchanted lord from a fairy tale, the poor man's cheeks burn with such an intense blush that you quickly find yourself worried that he's about to have some kind of silent breakdown.

"I-it's not quite like that." He straightens his already perfect posture as he brings a limp fist to his lips, covering his sudden stutter with a subtle cough that, in and of itself, carries more pomp than you could ever achieve in your entire life - which, of course, only confirms what you've just said. "While my family is admittedly reputed in the wizarding world, I can assure you that it is not in a good way at all. And it goes without saying that everyone here knows it too. They vacillate between avoiding me as if I've been jinxed with a repulsive Slugulus Eructo or fearing me as if I'll Avada them at the slightest sign of movement. That in itself is a major romance deterrent, you know. I don't blame them, of course. My family's crimes extend to me through the bloodline, whether I like it or not. It's inevitable, really."

You part your lips, all too ready to interrupt what was proving to be the beginning of another session of misplaced guilt from the Slytherin, when you see him smirking. His pale cheeks are still stained with that pink dust, but his lips are stretched in a mischievous pull that actually disguises his embarrassment for a few seconds.

"Besides, although I am, as you well know, completely averse to the dark practices of the Gaunts, I confess to taking advantage of all that reputation, sometimes. It suits me at some very specific moments."

You tilt your head, giving him your best unimpressed look.

"Oh, I am quite aware of that. Your readiness to use the Gaunts' reputation for your own benefit was especially evident that night when you threatened to terrorize my last generation if I opened my mouth about the Undercroft. You certainly know how to make a good point when you put intention behind it."

It washes the smile from his lips so instantly it's almost comical, leaving behind only a kicked, embarrassed expression, the flush in his cheeks highlighting the constellation of beauty marks on his porcelain skin.

"I - I already said I was sorry about that, I was just -"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it doesn't bother me anymore. I'm just teasing you." You cut him off with a sly smile. "Anyway, you're not going to get away from the real issue here."

Because, well...you really couldn't stop thinking about the suggestiveness of his previous statement. The possibilities - oh - were running through your brain nonstop. So, against your better judgment, and with your cheeks flush with heat, you find yourself pressing him on it.

"I don't understand what exactly you want to know." He mumbles, trying to cover up his embarrassment with a look of disinterest that is too poor to be taken seriously.

"You...have been with someone before, right?" This time you're deadly direct, no hints or openings for half answers. You had a question and you wanted to clear it up, your embarrassment in uttering such words wouldn't be enough to stop you. "Ah, intimately, I mean."

Obviously, it's not the kind of question that a decent lady would have asked a young man of such high prestige as Ominis Gaunt, you imagine. But after everything you've been through since you started your journey at Hogwarts, you feel bolder than the tolerable standard for young ladies, as if you'd lost some of your subtlety somewhere along the way. But how could you not?

More times than you can remember, you've been teetering on the brink of death, facing enemies who didn't think twice about whether or not you were too young for such things. More times than you can remember, you've been responsible for making decisions that would directly impact the lives of many people, even the wizarding world as a whole. The power in your hands, the skills and the often almost unbearable weight that such responsibilities brought to your life, made your mentality run miles ahead of those of your schoolmates - of society, in general. Inevitably, you felt that circumstances had forced you to develop a sense of urgency and raw honesty that even some adults lacked.

It was true that you lacked practical experience in some intimate matters - now mind you, you didn't exactly have a lot of free time for romantic interests and sex, too busy between the Keepers Trials, running tirelessly through the Highlands performing exhausting tasks for every poor soul who crossed your path - tasks that often culminated in your near death - attending the many classes during the day and the intensive study for the O.W.L.s in the library.

It was a true miracle when you managed to find time to sleep in your own bed in the dormitory - more often than not you were so exhausted that you simply lay down wherever you were and took a nap.

The fact was that you weren't exactly experienced in matters of intimacy, not really. There had been a few daring kisses here and there, of course. Even a few curious hands while you were snuggling with a Ravenclaw boy between the shelves of the library, hidden from Madam Scribner's watchful eyes. But you hadn't gone any further than that with anyone - even though the rumors circulating around school were that you and Sebastian Sallow had once been caught in an embarrassing and quite explicit situation in the Prefects' Bathroom. Which, of course, was a blatant lie. You had only been in the Prefects' Bathroom once and it certainly wasn't for any...carnal purposes.

You suspected that it was Sebastian himself who had started such rumors.

Either way, your lack of experience in the field had never bothered you much. Honestly, you didn't have the energy to bother yourself with it more than superficially. But you’d be lying if you denied that the prospect that Ominis, the most unfairly handsome and well-born boy you’ve ever met, might be as inexperienced as you is doesn’t offer a kind of comfort you didn’t even know you needed — as well as a funny thrill of anticipation in your belly.

You blink slowly as you stare at his handsome profile, bracing yourself for more of his cold scowls and frustrated huffs of impatience — perhaps even a sermon on how unladylike it is to ask such questions. He’s very good at sermons. Instead, however, you’re met with something else entirely. The upturned bridge of his nose is stained with blush, as are his cheeks. His unseeing gaze is turned away from you, his lips pressed tightly together, the corners slightly turned down. He looks…nervous? Distressed? You feel bad for pushing him like this. But as blushing and regretful as you are, the thought of what this means makes your heart beat faster by the second. The thought that you were right about your deductions after all makes your throat almost dry.

"H-hey, Ominis," you stammer awkwardly, but he still doesn't tilt his head in your direction. His arms are crossed over his chest like a physical shield, his entire posture screaming barely contained tension, making you slowly pull your feet off the table and adjust yourself on the couch so that you're sitting sideways to face him better. You take a deep breath, but Merlin, the air between you feels heavy now. It's strange, really; you don't think the two of you have ever been this awkward around each other, except for the first time you had a conversation - which was actually more of a threatening monologue on his part than a conversation per se. The regret of having insisted on this subject begins to weigh on your chest - a sincere fear that something that seemed so harmless to you a few minutes ago could be the cause of a crack in the bond you've arduously cultivated with Ominis is taking root in your mind.

You adjust uncomfortably the red hood of the robe around your neck, thinking that it wasn't worth trying to satisfy your curiosity after all - and let it be recorded for all that a Gryffindor knows when to give up their pride and admit to having made a bad decision, no matter how bitter the aftertaste is on your tongue. With a forced smile on your lips and a hand rubbing the back of your head, you silently pray that your next words will ease the heavy mood that has settled in the Undercroft.

"You know what? Let's forget about it. This is really none of my business and I'm sure that -"

"No." Ominis interrupts you shyly, impossibly redder than before and you immediately shut up, eyes wide as you stare at him with your heart wanting to fly out of your chest. "I've never been like this with anyone." The small tremor in his voice indicates how nervous he feels.

It would be comical if it weren't so desperate how by now you were already certain of this statement and yet it still manages to leave you completely speechless when it leaves his lips. The regret of having started this whole thing is ridiculously more overwhelming than before because you simply don't know what to say now that you've heard what you already knew all along. Thinking back now, what in Godric's name did you plan on saying in the first place? He would confess what you suspected to be the truth and then what?

Congrats, that's what you get for being so inappropriately curious.

"T-there was this girl in fourth year and we, well, she kissed me - but it was weird and a complete accident, it only lasted for a second and...and after that I never, you know...I've never been interested in anyone like that...at least not until -"

You think you might just burst into a ball of flames from how scorching your skin is, and Ominis is obviously as disturbingly embarrassed as you are because he's gesticulating with his hands and babbling nonstop, his nervousness causing him to reveal far more than you had initially asked, making both of you more awkward by the second.

Oh. Oh, Merlin. He hadn't even kissed anyone. At least not really.

What are you supposed to do with this information?!

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, sighing so deeply that his shoulders slump with the movement, deflating the way a balloon punctured by a needle would.

Despite your brutal state of embarrassment, you frown, leaning forward on the couch so that you’re a little closer to him. “Sorry? Why are you sorry? I’m the one who asked you things that didn’t concern me. If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

Ominis gives you a shy smile that lacks any sincere joy. “I know, but still. I mean, I shouldn’t have — it’s weird for me to say these things about you, even though I’ve wanted to say them for a while. But I didn’t — I just didn’t want it to be this disastrous.”

In retrospect, you think this might all just be a trick of your overactive imagination. It's quite possible that you simply blacked out while Ominis was telling you about Sebastian's latest romantic endeavor - in his deep, soft voice - and that this is all just a dream.

It's a very plausible option, given that this has happened before. His presence, always so calm and controlled, combined with his mesmerizing baritone have guided you into a lethargic state of drowsiness more times than you can remember. It's just how he makes you feel - relaxed and safe.

Yes, that's what's happening once again. It has to be. Why, for heaven's sake, can't you have just heard what you think you heard, right?

But the way he stands there, serious features and a deep blush on his face, waiting for your answer with a visible degree of insecurity in his normally impassive being, is what makes you finally say something.

"W-was that about me?" You let out quietly, your racing heartbeat somehow accelerating even more, to the point where you question the harm this would do to your health. "When you said you've never been interested in anyone like that, at least until..." you continue, trying to bring some semblance of order to your thoughts, "was it me you were talking about then?"

It took a few seconds before he nodded once.

"I've wanted to talk to you about this for a long time. But there was always something going on - someone you needed to help, a poor creature needing to be rescued in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, a Goblin Helm to be recovered in a cursed cave far away from here..." he chuckles softly and you find yourself laughing back, shy and gentle, though a long exhale leaves your lips as you feel a bit of lightness begin to permeate the air between you two once more.

He reaches for you hesitant, but gently - oh so gently - places his cold hand above yours on the couch. You don't flinch or avoid his touch, though you still stare for a few seconds at the place where his long, pale fingers cover yours, trying to assimilate the unreal image that unfolds in front of you. And when your gaze rises and finally finds his face, it almost breaks your heart.

Realistically, you know he can’t see anything at all, but that becomes an afterthought in your mind as soon as you look at him. His eyes, bright, pale blue orbs like two moon-like spheres, are tilted and fixed at the exact same level as yours — and in this particular moment, you’re certain he’s seeing you, as impossible as that possibility may be. Swallowing the saliva that’s building in your mouth is suddenly a difficult task, but you force yourself to do it anyway.

"Ominis, what—what are you trying to say?”

You whisper slowly, as if the mere question is a secret between the two of you, the unexpected intensity in his cloudy eyes making your heart stutter as he continues to stare at you, his bushy brows furrowed in an expression that’s hard to discern. Suddenly, you realize how close you’re standing. Nothing but a small gap in the couch separates you, where your hands are clasped together and two boxes of Chocolate Frogs still rest. You can smell him, confunsing your mind as you unconsciously lean a little closer to him — fresh mint, chocolate, and something that reminds you of open parchment or the scent of the pages of a rare book.

He breathes your name huskily, and you feel your cheeks tingle with the heat of a fresh flush of blush.

“I’m in love with you,” he says earnestly, more whispering the words than saying them, his hand tightening in yours a fraction more, and all you can do is stare at him in utter shock. The expression on his face is vulnerable, evidenced by the furrowed lines of his brows in what looks almost like agony. But he’s also determined — a single-minded determination that’s enough to steal the breath from your lungs. "It took me a while to understand it, but I think I've been since the day I met you, to be honest. When you arrived late to the Great Hall, out of breath and in a hurry, but still so ecstatic with everything around you - as if being brutally attacked by a dragon while trying to get to school was no big deal. You've been stunning to me ever since. It was impossible not to be completely enchanted by you."

You're at a loss for words, so you don't even try to find them, opting for silence as you repeat his words on a loop in your mind.

It's strange how you always imagined confessions like this should be made in front of silvery moonlit ponds or in lush meadows during the spring season or literally anywhere that could be considered even remotely inspiring for romance. Certainly not in secret spaces filled with dust, crates and training dummies like the Undercroft. But here you are; overwhelmed and speechless by a declaration made in the last place you imagined you'd receive one.

And oh Merlin, you want to believe him, to entertain the idea that someone as utterly adorable as Ominis could feel that way about you - even though you've never been able to explain to yourself how you really felt about him.

Ominis Gaunt has always been an enigma.

The Slytherin's obvious qualities are nothing new to you; his gentle disposition despite his aloof facade and the weight of his family's unsavory reputation, or his polite and gentlemanly manners towards everyone. But these were attributes that anyone with even the slightest interest in him could see, qualities that didn't set him apart that much from others you knew.

But the truth is that, with time and familiarity, you noticed other distinct peculiarities in Ominis.

Leaving aside his ethereal beauty and his tall, majestic physique, which, again, are very obvious positive traits about him, he was the most captivating man you've ever met. The patience he possessed towards others, the fierce loyalty to you and Sebastian, the fact that despite the long sermons that accompanied it, he was always breaking the promises he made to himself in favor to protect and support those he loved. His far above average intelligence, the way he annoyingly always knows the right thing to say - even, and especially, at the times when you don't want to hear it. And, of course, his most attractive side in your opinion: the unexpected softness in his dark nature - it's about him being able to frighten and silence an entire room with just his imposing presence and still be the one to comfort and care, with kindness and respect.

You certainly understood that Ominis was someone seriously conflicted. The way he sometimes tended towards a cold temperament, or how, at times, he let his emotions guide him to his dark and cold side, did not go unnoticed by you. But still, you saw how he tried hard to let his gentle side prevail in his manner.

But

Did noticing these little details that would normally go unnoticed by others mean that you reciprocate his feelings?

Well, you felt safe with him. Even safer than you felt with Sebastian. While the latter was undeniably a friend you held in high regard (and even a small crush, if you were honest) he did not give you the same sense of complete comfort and trust that Ominis did. With Sebastian you felt like you had to constantly prove yourself, like just being who you were was never enough for him. Now with Ominis...

And as you stare at him, open-mouthed, searching for the right words to respond to his unexpected declaration, you think that maybe that's why you've never been able to put a name to what you felt for him. There was no heady, bubbling, flowery passion to announce any feelings, like there had been with your other brief flirtations before - or even with Sebastian. There was only the warmth, the relief, the peace of feeling whole and completely safe.

The feeling of knowing that if you were in a life-or-death situation and could count on only one person to save you, he would be the one to come to your rescue.

Godric

Realization borns in your chest to the point where you feel like you could float, like the feeling after eating a mouthful of Fizzling Whizzbees. Suddenly, you feel like you have so much to say, but you don't know how. Ominis, as usual, is much more eloquent:

"You wanted to know if I've ever been intimate with anyone, and my answer is no." He seems more hesitant, as if his hopes have been diminished a bit along with your prolonged silence, but his voice is still soft - as is the grip of his fingers on yours. "I've never been intimate with anyone because the only person I've ever wanted to be with was you."

All the air in your lungs leaves you in a sharp exhale, the warmth of deep admiration, affection and trust filling your chest and making your heart beat wildly. Overcome with emotion, you look once more at his hand holding your smaller one, opening your mouth, fumbling for the words in a confusing jumble of vowels and consonants.

"It's okay," Ominis assures you with a sad smile, his large milky eyes slanted downward, staring blindly at where he feels you squeeze his fingers. "I know it's a lot to take in at once. I don't mean to pressure you into anything, I swear. I just, I guess I just needed to tell you how I feel. But I understand if...well...I really understand that you don't feel the same way." His thick eyebrows sink, his face hardening slightly, as if he's already prepared for your rejection.

"Ominis." His name is a sigh from your lips. Touched. Longing.

You don't know how exactly what was supposed to be just another night of studying has brought you here. All you know is that you intend to enjoy every moment of this unexpected confession, eager to discover what new paths it might lead to.

The heat of Ominis so close combined with the way your heart had raced as you focused on his perfectly flushed lips, and how his scent was making your head spin, made you suddenly feel more impulsive than ever. And that's saying something considering your history of questionable choices.

You decide to go for it.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask in a frail whisper as you realize that nothing you could say would be enough to make him understand the emotions you're feeling right now.

His head snaps up at the question, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

"W-what? I mean, yes. Merlin, yes you can -" he breathes quickly, his pale skin stained with a deep blush, his orbs darting aimlessly. "But I've never actually kissed anyone - I might not be as good at it as -"

You cut it.

"I seriously doubt that."

This only makes him blush harder and you almost regret what you said, rushing to save him from the situation.

"B-but I can show you how, if you prefer."

You’re almost breathless at this point, vaguely reminding yourself that you’re no queen of the experience either, but when he nods eagerly, everything flies out the window and it’s like the pulsing muscle in your chest has given up on this whole adrenaline show and simply stopped beating.

Well, that’s it, you think as you push the boxes of Chocolate Frogs onto the rug with trembling fingers and move closer to Ominis until your legs are touching.

You’re almost facing each other on the couch now, his breath fanning your face, gentle and soft, and you stare for a moment into the milky expanse of his eyes. Pale skin dotted with a few beauty marks, perfectly sculpted jaw, elegant nose, flushed lips slightly parted.

For a moment, shame takes over you to the point where you almost turn around and beg him to pretend none of this happened. Almost. But his thumb lovingly caressing your knuckles is what grounds you in this moment once again.

You wouldn’t be a self-respecting Gryffindor if you gave up on your goals over a little embarrassment, would you?

“Right.”

You gently cup Ominis’ jaw between your fingers, delighted when he immediately leans into the touch, unable to hide the small hitch in your breath as you feels his heart rate spike as press on a pulse point.

You lean closer to him than you’ve ever been before, your noses not even four inches apart, his minty breath tickling your face. "Close your eyes, please,” your voice trembles weakly and you wet your lips before continuing, your skin so heated that you’re sure Ominis can feel the flames emanating from it without even touching you, “and then just do what feels right, I guess – let your body guide you.”

You didn’t even know what you were saying anymore, but there he was, bathed in the flames of the braziers and the partial darkness of the Undercroft; his long, thick eyelashes fanning over his flushed cheekbones as he does exactly what you say, more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in your life.

He keeps one hand covering yours to stroke your fingers back and forth, his other hand, however, is on his own thigh, clenched into a tight fist – like a restraint. Restraint for what? You’re not sure. But the possibilities still conjure a swarm of butterflies in your belly.

Ominis leans in a little closer, almost unconsciously, parting his lips and inhaling audibly as you exhale a soft sound. Your hand slides down the sharp line of his jaw, stroking the curve of his ear with your thumb until you rest your fingers delicately on the back of his neck, guiding him to extinguish the last few inches that separate you as you let your own eyes drift closed. With a tentative brush of your lip against his, you press forward, sealing your lips and your heart with his in that moment.

The first touch is nothing and absolutely everything you imagined.

You sigh.

For the first second you freeze, afraid that you have no idea what you would do now that you finally felt Ominis Gaunt's plush lips on yours, but apparently your previous advice to him is very convenient and your instincts take over the worry almost instantly.

Your lips mold between his like a perfect fit, soft and moist, his heat invading your mouth in shy puffs. You melt almost immediately, letting the kiss remain chaste - a firm but soft pressure, with gentle movements over his.

All tension drains from your body because this is familiar; sweet, warming your body from the inside, like drinking butterbeer with friends in front of a fireplace on a cold winter's day - comfortable, safe. But it also gives you an anxious tingle that makes you unconsciously squeeze your legs together; your stomach twists and turns with funny somersaults, the swarm of butterflies more agitated than ever.

Having your lips collide with his, the softness and fresh taste he exudes, you realize how much you miss this - even if it's the first time you're experiencing it with him. So much for emotional incoherence.

Ominis breathes a shaky, heated breath into your mouth, fingers releasing your hand to grip your wrist in an almost desperate gesture.

You're the first to pull back, suddenly dizzy, blushing even more when he chases your lips for a few inches before stopping himself. Through half-lidded eyes, you watch him slowly begin to open his too, a dazed look on his face, with panting lips and rosy cheeks that make him look both childish and incredibly sinful at the same time.

"O-Ominis," you whisper, panting as if you've just finished climbing one of the mountains in the Highlands. “That was…”

In a game-changing moment, he furrows his brows and locks his jaw once before parting his lips to say, “Can we do this again? I mean, do you want to… will you let me do it again? Like, right now?”

Despite your earlier determination, you find yourself whipped by the abrupt change in his tone. At the restless eagerness in his breathy voice, at the possessive grip on your wrist. How, in the blink of an eye, the tables seem to have been turned and he’s the one taking control now. But inexplicably, your own greed for more collides with his and you find yourself nodding, before remembering that he couldn’t possibly see your silent consent.

“Yes, please…”

Unlike you thought, he doesn’t immediately pull you to his lips. What he does, however, stuns you more than any alternative. His fingers, long and elegant, adorned with a few rings that are surely worth more than your life, close around the sides of your waist as soon as the words leave your lips, hoisting your body off the couch with such blatant ease that it would surprise you if you didn’t have more shocking things to deal with at the moment. Like, for example, the fact that he made you sit facing him.

On his lap.

You gasp, absolutely mortified, but, removed from all logic, you make no move to escape his grip; allowing your legs to remain parted on the sides of his thighs, hips against his, hands gripping his broad shoulders for stability.

Ominis, unlike you, seems quite at ease with the awkward position he’s placed you in, releasing your waist to tentatively raise his cold fingers to your burning face, pale blue eyes intensely and greedily locked on your features - features he could never see. Not in the usual way.

“I can?”

Deeply disturbed by the way he’s looking at you and how quickly things have climbed, you can’t find the words to respond, choosing instead to take both of his wrists in your delicate, trembling fingers and guide his hands to your face. You try to control your rapid breathing as his fingers trace the angles of your eyebrows and jaw and the soft roundness of your cheeks and chin, the icy feel of his rings prickling your skin. His eyes slowly close, his brows furrowed in concentration, as if he’s replicating the image of your face in his mind.

“You always smell like honey and lemon tea leaves.” He murmurs with a satisfied hum, and your eyelashes flutter along with your heart as he traces the arch of your eyebrow and then the line of your nose. Your mouth falls open unconsciously when his fingers touch the softness of your lower lip, and it’s Ominis who gasps this time. You watch in embarrassed ecstasy as his face darkens with a blush, the muscle in his jaw twitching once more, his thick eyelashes fluttering over the apple of his cheeks.

You nervously smooth the green hood of the robe around his neck, playing with the texture of the fabric to distract yourself from the intense emotions that threaten to make you faint.

“Your heart is beating so loud I can hear it from here,” he says softly, tracing the delicate cupid’s bow over your lips, a mischievous tug at the right corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widen a little as you let out a shy giggle, still pretending to maintain a confidence that has surely flown out the window long ago. Ominis once told you that since he lacked the fundamental sense of sight, his other senses have been immensely enhanced over the years, including hearing. And, well, your heart was beating so loudly and unkindly as the quickening footsteps of a Graphorn.

The thorough exploration stops for a moment so he can gently cup your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, and you feel the slightest pressure toward him. He pulls you straight to him.

Your faces are almost touching once more. You feel his soft breath on your cheek, hear his light but greedy intake of breath. His grip tightens the tiniest fraction.

Soft lips press against your cheek.

He doesn’t rush at all. The kiss lingers. A warm, syrupy sensation spreads through your body. Your hands tighten in the fabric around his neck. His lips press a little deeper, the tip of his nose nudging your temple affectionately. A warm sigh blows over your flushed skin before he pulls away. His fingers trail, impossibly soft, along your jaw in comforting movements as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, your other cheek, and another to the tip of your nose. His contradiction shocks you as much as it always has; how one moment he can be shy and hesitant and the next the most confident and dominant person in the world.

“So beautiful, sweet girl.”

You’re about to scream, bubbles of affection and desire exploding in your chest, your fingers itching to pull him in for another kiss. Wanting — no, needing — his lips on yours once more. You don’t have much control left, though. He’s stolen your confidence and turned it into a messy, tangled puddle of wants. You know what you want, but you don’t dare take it. Not when he’s clearly calling the shots like this. You’re frozen, barely breathing, and only vaguely aware that he’s touching your neck now, tilting your head so your faces are pressed together as he push his lips to yours again.

Merlin, yes

This time you actually shiver beneath his fingers, a helpless noise rising from your throat straight to his mouth. His other hand tightens around your waist, and the one on your neck slides into your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp.

This kiss is clearly different from the last, bolder and hungrier from the first contact. And you actually find yourself questioning the veracity of his claim about being inexperienced at this, because by Merlin' sake, he certainly seems very skilled to you.

You assume this is another one of those inexplicable situations where he’s exceptionally good at whatever it is he sets out to do, even if it’s the first time he’s doing it. The thought almost irritates you, as it reminds you of your first kiss — the one that was an awkward, painful mess of teeth chattering and more saliva than there should have been. But just as quickly as the feeling appears, it’s gone.

Your head feels light and buoyant, and it feels a lot like being enchanted with a Wingardium Leviosa the exact moment his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. Then, all you can seem to hold in your mind is the sensation — the heat of his tongue in your mouth, the almost painful stab as he pulls your head back by your hair, the shocking, abject excitement that surges as he starts to act more roughly. You moan, and he wraps his arm around your back to pull you so close to him that your chests are pressed tightly together.

You’re not sure when you do it, but behind your closed lids you swear you see entire constellations exploding with the sensations he gives you with his kiss.

There’s a certain degree of inexperience in the way his tongue moves inside your mouth, but that’s nothing more than a tiny detail when compared to the absolute hunger with which he seems to want to devour you. His saliva, like all of him, seems to melt on your tongue with the most addictive mint flavor - and, deliciously, the lingering taste of the chocolate you both ate not long ago.

It’s all overwhelming, perfect but overwhelming, and the dizziness comes faster than you could have anticipated, making your movements slower and heavier. A wet breath, a grunt from him, another maddening kiss, lips seeking lips, soft cotton under your fingertips. Ominis’s robe feels like a lifeline, and you grab it with everything you’ve got.

If you focused on something other than the sensation, you might notice how heated you both are and how flushed you look. Maybe you could notice Ominis’ hand gently releasing the death grip of your hand on his robe to place the aching fingers on the back of his head.

Just when your nails unconsciously scrape his scalp to pull a few strands of blond hair between your fingers, Ominis parts his lips between yours to release the most sinful of sounds — something that lies somewhere between a growl and a moan, and the thing goes like a lightning bolt straight between your legs.

It’s you who pulls him back into a feverish kiss this time, wet, breathy sounds escaping you both between the clash of your tongues as you press against each other. You’re hyper-aware of how hard he is beneath you, his length straining against the fabric of his uniform pants, and you blush — but you want him even more. Delicately but purposefully, you catch his swollen bottom lip between your teeth to tug once before licking it, but Ominis gasps so loudly and closes his hand around your neck so unexpectedly that you actually choke on a startled, high-pitched sound.

Regardless of the adrenaline rush the action generates, or perhaps precisely because of it, you brace your knees better on the couch around him, rocking your pelvis against Ominis’s before you even realize what you’re doing, enjoying the strangled gasp he lets out despite the almost fierce grip on yyour throat.

“Again. Do it again,” he breathes against your lips, resting his forehead against yours, and you do. Ominis begins to move too, thrusting his hips up while you thrust yours down, getting into a rhythm that has you both gasping in the silence of the Undercroft, the flames of the braziers the only other noises to be heard around.

His hand slides under your shirt without any warning, over the soft skin of your stomach and to the edge of your bra before pushing it up and over your breast. The shock of his cold fingers on your heated skin is so much that you cry out, your nipple hardening in his broad palm as you push harder against him, and the shuddering gasp that leaves him in response has you aching to touch him too. And, by Godric, has the Undercroft always been this suffocatingly heat?

You pull apart for air as Ominis chases your lips with his, the feverish movements of your hips momentarily ceasing.

“Ominis…?” Your unspoken question hangs in the air between you, curious, thirsty to know how far you both intend to let this go.

His nose brushes against yours, his brows furrowed in anguish, his eyes pale and intense. “Every…Every single time I heard you, or smelled you near, I felt this. This desire. I’ve imagined you, like this, with me. So many times. It’s always been you. I want this so bad.”

“Y-yes,” you whisper as breathlessly as he does, your words a shared secret between you two and the darkness. “I want this too. I want you.”

He sighs in rapture, pressing his grip on your throat a fraction further, kneading his hand over your breast until he catches a nipple between his fingers, teasing the flesh with the cold silver of his signet ring. “Then don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

The commanding quality in his normally restrained tone coupled with his unusual choice of dirty language causes a spontaneous clench in the wet region between your legs. With unsteady fingers you snake your hand under his shirt, mimicking the same liberty he’s taken with you, and feel his back arch in response as you slide your soft and warm palm across the hard planes of his abdomen. With your other hand, you hold a silky handful of his hair, pulling him into a hard kiss as you roll your hips over him again - both of you moaning at the sensual grinding of your intimate parts.

“Baby, just like that -” he breathes shakily as he pulls away from the kiss and turns his head. At first you think he might just be hiding his face in the crook of your neck, but when you feel a pair of warm lips on the delicate flesh of that area your eyes flutter shut.

“Ominis,” is all you can manage to say as you tilt your head to the side for better access and hold him tighter by the grip on the back of his neck, rolling your hips to press yourself against the Slytherin as he begins to gently suck on the sensitive skin.

There are so many layers between the two of you. Ominis’s pants, his underwear, your panties, the heavy robes draped over your bodies, the uniform shirts. Barriers that at the moment only serve to prevent the actual touch of skin on skin. And, Merlin, you want so badly to feel his skin against yours, but you feel like you can’t rush it. Either way, neither of you seem to have the patience for the task at the moment, his mouth on your neck feeling so incredibly good that you can’t think of stopping him from continuing – not even so you can undress.

This intimacy with him already surpasses any practical experience you’ve had, any previous secret make out session. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is more than you’ve ever felt before – more electrifying than raiding Goblin and Ashwinder encampments, more than rescuing a Hippogriff right under Theophilus Harlow’s nose, more than completing a Trial from one of the Keepers. And the sheer euphoria and newness of it all, the overwhelming and unfamiliar sensations, his panting breaths in your ear, the needy grip of his hands on your body, his cock pressed greedily between your legs – and, most of all, the fact that it’s him, is pushing you rapidly towards your inevitable end. You’ll come soon, and for the first time, not from your own fingers.

Ominis licks a particularly hard bite mark he’s just left (in a place that’s going to be pretty troublesome to hide, you think) and pulls back a few inches as you both move together, leaving you alone to deal with the overwhelming image of his face carved in lust; the way his porcelain skin flushes and his kiss swollen mouth opens in a long sigh, pearly eyes half-lidded between his thick lashes as he grinds eagerly against you, the normally perfectly straight strands of hair now messy from your fidgeting fingers, falling across his forehead in a way that’s disturbingly sexy.

“I thought something like this would never happen. I never thought you’d want me the same way. Not someone like me.”

The way he speaks, breathless and feverish, yet so vulnerable and sincere, has you tearing up before you even realize it, sinking your fingers into the space between his chest, right above where his heart flutters like the wings of a Golden Snitch.

“Ominis...you’re so beautiful. You’re perfect. I-I’m so sorry I didn’t notice your feelings before. But I’m here now - you have me now.”

The breath seems to be knocked out of him by your words and you can taste his need as your mouths push together again in a slick mess of saliva and teeth - this time in the right way. Your own mind goes blank, any capacity for thought draining from you as he releases your breast to bring both hands under the skirt of your uniform, possessively grabbing the soft cheeks of your ass between his fingers to pull your body in time with his thrusts.

“Salazar, how can you be so good?” He groans as he breaks the kiss and shamelessly grinds your quivering pussy against his swollen cock, the fabric of his pants growing wet - as much his fault as yours. “Oh, I…fuck, y/n, harder. Harder, baby, please.”

You feel like your face is literally on fire, but you do as you’re told, grinding yourself hard against Ominis and watching with hypnotic attention as his eyes drift closed, his head tilting back against the back of the couch as his hips thrust upwards more roughly. The Adam’s apple in his slender, pale throat bobs with each hard swallow, his skin beginning to glisten with a subtle sheen of sweat. He’s so gorgeous, the sight of him ravished like this is so enchanting that it takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s mumbling something - and a few more seconds for it to sink in that you don’t understand the language.

Because he’s speaking in Parseltongue.

You don’t think he even realizes what he’s doing, considering his reservations about the dialect, too lost in the dizzying rush of pleasure. You are, however, hyperaware of the sounds that flow with hypnotic fluidity from his parted lips; harsh hisses, elongated chirps, vibrant trills of a pink tongue…

You may not understand what he’s saying, but you don’t need to be an expert in the speech to know that it’s definitely not something that should be said in public.

Your cheeks flush as he hisses something that sounds particularly filthy through clenched teeth, skin flushed and eyebrows furrowed in an almost irritated frown — which only makes him more irresistible to your eyes.

You can’t help the way your legs widen to their maximum limits, trying to mold your pussy to the thick line of his cock hidden beneath his pants as best you can.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he whispers, seemingly back to normal speech (a part of you regrets this), his mouth opening in a guttural moan.

“O-Ominis—” You say, tasting his name in your mouth and it almost sounds like a question, but he fucks himself harder against you, clawing at the flesh of your ass to keep you in place, thrusting his hips into yours until you’re moaning louder — even with the barrier of fabric separating you, you feel it perfectly when the rounded head of his cock manages to hit the exact spot where your clit is.

“Louder,” he growls, lifting his head to you once more, chasing that beautiful sound that came out of your mouth like a starving man. “Let me hear who you’re rubbing yourself against like that.” He leans down and licks a stripe down your throat to your ear.

“Oh, Ominis—” You gasp louder, arching your neck to give him more acess. You can’t even finish your sentence, your lips parted in an “o” as his cock pushes against your pussy in the sweetest way. Your thighs are trembling now, and it feels so good, and you’re going to come, you know you will. “Please, please, you’re going to make me-” the muscles in your stomach are already clenching in anticipation, your back arching, and there’s a high-pitched sound wanting to rip from your throat and you know it’s going to be loud if you can’t control yourself.

“Come on, that’s it, just like that,” he rasps, and your moans grow more intrepid, until they finally turn into desperate gasps as you feel yourself one small step away from the edge.

It feels a little like going crazy, like being out of your mind, just using each other, fucking dirty and rough through your clothes, and you barely realize you’re digging your nails into the skin of his chest until Ominis’s head is jerking back, a sound that fluctuates between a moan of pleasure and pain leaving his lips — even as he murmurs a ‘keep going, please don’t stop.’

“Give it to me, my pretty girl,” he murmurs breathlessly, and you pull the blond strands of his hair between your fingers, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open with sounds that only make his grip on your ass grow greedier. Fuck, that feels good. “Come on, y/n, baby—”

His needy plea is what sends you flying over the edge. Within seconds, your eyes are watering hard, a spiral of lightning-fast heat hitting you as your pussy flutters and clenches around emptiness, the familiar wetness soaking your panties even more.

You cover your mouth a second too late, nearly choking on the scream you muffle into the sweaty palm of the hand that was once under his shirt, your orgasm ripping through your body without any subtlety. Neurons collapsing, couch creaking with the force of your movements, vision blurring and darkening at the edges - but Ominis isn't done with you.

When your drunken gaze flickers open to focus on his face, you notice how absolutely enraptured he looks, his pale eyes locked on your face as if he can actually see you in your breakdown.

Your body is limp and shaking, but you press your forehead against his as he struggles to keep up the pace now that you've given in to exhaustion. Your mouth is parted as he breathes in and out right next to your lips, eyes half-lidded. You lean in to kiss him gently on the lips as he thrusts hard into you, cupping his face to pepper kisses across his cheeks amidst his moans.

One of the hands on your ass comes up to tangle in your hair and tilt your head back so he can kiss your jaw. He thrusts into you hard enough that your body jumps up, but you hold on to him as best you can. Your bodies as entangled as they can be.

You even try to muster the strength to rock your hips against him, but his fingers in your ass tighten to keep you in place as he picks up the pace himself.

His fingers were digging into your flesh and your hair so hard it would have been painful in any other scenario. But not in this one. As it was, it was a reminder of how deep he was falling, how much he seemed to need this, need you, judging by his noises.

“Come on,” you whisper when you manage to slide your lips to his ear, both of you sweaty and flushed, your little fingers scratching the back of his neck in comforting motions as you encourage him to reach his limit, “come for me, Ominis. Please, please -”

It works. Ominis parts his lips almost immediately, giving a husky moan of release that makes your pussy quiver back to life, his larger body tensing beneath yours, shuddering once, twice. His pale, cloudy eyes look watery for a few seconds, and his perfectly chiseled cheekbones are stained with the most charming blush beneath the sweat on his skin — fuck, gorgeous, that’s what he is.

He collapses back against the couch completely after a while, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame to keep you clinging to him. Not that he needs to. You’re too languid to move. Too exhausted and spent to care about anything or anyone other than him.

His head rests against your collarbone, rising and falling with your ragged breaths. Your arms wrap around him, your hand still lightly stroking his hair. There are blond strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, and you do your best to brush them back when he looks up at you, though his eyes are still closed, visibly pleased with the end result of this study session.

His own fingers run through the unruly strands of hair around your face, brushing a few behind your ear with a gentle caress. He opens his eyes after a while, orbs cloudy and ethereal, but you swear you can see an infinite constellation of glowing dots on their pale screen.

“I…” he begins hesitantly, his voice a little firmer now, though he still wets his swollen lips before continuing. “This meant a lot to me. You have no idea how much. But I don’t want to assume anything - I just, you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to - you know, don’t feel like you have to be with me just because I…” he sighs, swallowing hard, trying to find the words to say something you already understand.

“Shhh,” you place the tip of your index finger over his lips, chuckling softly when he blushes, “I may have taken a while to realize it, but I also want to see where this can lead us. I do, Ominis.”

He sighs in relief, as if he’s come up for air after a long time underwater, cradling your face between the broad palms of his hands.

"Salazar, that's so good to hear. I really didn't know how I was going to go back to acting like just friends after what happened, if it was your decision." He murmurs seriously, but his sharp features are relaxed as he rests his forehead against yours.

"Don't be so dramatic." You roll your eyes as weakly scold him, though your heart is warm and cozy inside your chest, embracing this moment for what it is - precious. "Didn't you hear what I said just now?"

He pulls back a few inches, his nose wrinkling slightly as he tries to figure out what you're talking about.

He's so cute.

You can't help yourself before you purse your lips into a pout and plant a tender kiss on the tip of his nose.

"I told you you have me now, little fool."

The smile he gives you in response is extremely rare; full and bright, two cute dimples on each side of the cheeks, showing off his perfect teeth; everything as charming as the rest of him. Even though he doesn't say anything after your declaration, seeing something so unusual directed at you already tells you everything you need to know. You sigh in excitement, letting him pull you by the nape of your neck for another kiss, pouring all the adoration he feels for you into the act.

Your skin is sticky with sweat, your hair a mess of knots, your clothes wrinkled and askew, the space between you a wet, embarrassing mess - the heat from both of your robes heating your skin to an almost suffocating level. But neither of you makes any move to separate, or even to pick up your wands and cast a simple cleaning spell - too enraptured with each other and so completely satisfied that you happily ignore everything else.

You feel so happy. And, most importantly, ready for what is to come.

Outside the castle, the snow falls without stopping, freezing everything around with its cloud of crystals. But here, in this dusty and unlikely place for romance, you feel safe and warm.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #ominis gaunt smut #slytherin #gryffindor #hp hogwarts legacy #parseltongue #parselmouth

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ppomumgranatum · 11 months ago

Text

the dance of love's sweet potion.

also available on Ao3

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

tags: fluff, one shot, you POV, house-neutral reader, jealousy, protective

word count: 5.3k

Warnings: MAJOR HEADCANNON, the books and the potions are all in my head just for the sake of this story, characters are in their 7th year, I finally caved and wrote the cliche protective and jealous seb and i fucking love it

Summary: When a potion meant to repel backfired, it became a mishap that turned your world upside down.

Notes: I was craving some fluff, so a fluff was created ❤️

Revulsaroma is a powerful potion that demands careful handling and discretion. Designed for specific situations where deterring unwanted advances or repelling individuals is necessary, its potency requires utmost caution. Ingredients: • 3 drops of essence of skunk cabbage • 2 crushed doxy wings • 1 teaspoon of powdered Boomslang skin • 4 ounces of extract from a Devil's Snare vine • 1 pinch of powdered Basilisk fang • Hair from the person brewing the potion

You carefully traced your finger along the intricate words laid out in the book you had kept from your parents’ dusty collection on potion making and meticulously followed the instructions. Taking advantage of the quiet after hours, you used the station at potion class to get on with your mission.

You’re not a pro in potion making per se, but the way you precisely measure out ingredients, stirring the potion with such poise, you feel as skilled as Professor Sharp– if he was plagued with a horrible disease of a red-haired boy goes by the name of Leander Prewett.

For weeks, Leander had been following you around so relentlessly and constantly asking you out. It was cute at first but now it was starting to feel like pure harassment. Despite numerous rejection, it didn't seem like he’s the type of guy who understood the concept of boundaries and your patience was wearing extremely thin.

You remembered an old potion you once came across when you were younger– Revulsaroma, a repelling potion. You figured it was time to revisit those pages since you’re in a dire need for a solution.

You stirred the components inside of your cauldron with a pinch of determination, distress, and a lot of rage. The earthy and putrid notes filled the air and it was probably going to stick with you for a while but you surely hoped this was going to be worth it.

When the potion finally came to completion, you carefully transferred it to a pumpkin juice bottle to trick Leander into drinking it.

“Alright, that looks good.” You sighed in relief as you put the bottle down and stared at the securely stored dark liquid with pride, knowing that soon you’d be able to take a break from the unwanted attention. At least for a while just until you could figure out a permanent way to stop him,

You proceeded to clean up your station and returned some tools that you took from the inventory room, making sure that everything was back in its rightful spot. Because Merlin knew that you couldn’t take another chide from Professor Sharp about the importance of being responsible and organised.

Just when everything was about to be restored to its pristine state, you heard a loud retching coming from the other room. When you rushed outside, you saw your bestfriend, hands desperately grasping the edge of your station, body racked with violent gagging, and breath ragged in a grave attempt to gasp for air.

“Sebastian?” You exclaimed while rushing to his side, “Are you alright?”

“Came to—bleughh—look for you,” Sebastian managed to say in between his guttural heaves.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice trailed off when you saw your pumpkin juice bottle collapsed and empty. Right at that moment, your eyes widened at the realisation that Sebastian just drank your Revulsaroma. “No, no, no. You bloody, bloody idiot!”

Quickly, you summoned water from an empty jar that you found nearby and gave it to Sebastian who was still fighting the disgusting taste stuck in his throat.

Gulping down the entire water in a matter of milliseconds, Sebastian attempted to catch his breath, “Your pumpkin juice— is expired, by the way.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, Sebastian!” You ran your fingers through your hair in distress. What was already a pretty stressful situation just got a whole lot worse.

“What?” He was truly not getting your frustration. He gagged once more, recoiling whatever last bit of that disgusting liquid he's tasting.

“That’s not pumpkin juice!” You scowled and gestured abruptly.

“What is it, then? Poison?” Every muscle on his face seemed to tensed up, still.

“Why would you fucking drink that? It was meant for Leander.” You grunted.

His grimace was then taken over by disbelief for a moment, “Gods, killing Leander is a bit extreme, don’t you think? Even for me.”

“No—ugh,” You sighed heavily, feeling totally overwhelmed. Slumping on your station, you rested your head on it "This is bad. It's really bad."

“You're freaking me out. What is it?”

You lifted your head from the table, meeting his concerned gaze with a weary expression.

“It’s a potion called Revulsaroma. It is supposed to repel whoever drinks it.” You admitted.

Sebastian was still focused on getting the foul taste out of his tongue, but his eyes were quickly narrowed in the scrutiny of your last sentence, “And why exactly are you trying to repel Leander?”

Catching Sebastian's look, a twinge of guilt pricked at you. You winced inwardly, realising you'd never really spilled the beans to Sebastian about the whole Leander debacle. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea and thinking that there was anything romantic going on between you and the Gryffindor boy.

The line on your relationship with Sebastian had always been blurry, if you could be honest. You’re obviously friends—best friends—but at the same time, the chemistry between the two of you would be such a waste to stay as friends.

You’d occasionally exchange innocent flirting, teasing each other and bantering in a way that felt more than platonic. You couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach that fluttered every time he smiled at you and the way you felt when he complimented you.

Things had been going very well lately, and you'd like to think you had a shot to turn it into something more.

But now, he’s consumed the one thing that was going to seal the chance you have with him. Because whatever feeling he was going to feel, the potion was supposed to make him feel it so strongly.

The thought of losing Sebastian terrified you.

“That’s not what we’re supposed to be focusing on.” You diverted the topic and reached out to your book, checking for things to look out for. Your eyes trailed the ink that explains the detail of the potion.

You noticed Sebastian had shifted his weight from the corner of your eye, moving somewhat uncomfortable in his feet.

"But what does that mean for me?" he asked.

You sighed, trying to collect your thoughts. "According to the potion's effects, you're supposed to start feeling aversions towards me," you explained, gesturing towards the brewing cauldron with a frustrated gesture. "and I have no idea how to reverse it.”

Your voice was heavy with disappointment. The same emotion was written all over Sebastian's face. There was silence as you both processed the fact that there was no quick fix to this mess.

“So, I’m supposed to hate you? Just like that?”

“That’s kind of the whole point of the potion.”

Sebastian's eyes scanned the cluttered laboratory, a look of resignation settling over his features. "Well, this is just great," he muttered under his breath. Sebastian's complexion turned paler, a nauseous expression crossing his features, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Sebastian stood there, his hand pressed against his stomach, unsure if the wave of nausea washing over him was solely due to the potion's effects or the unsettling thought of hating you.

But then he felt his body teetering on the brink of collapse. You grappled his arm to provide support but his condition worsened in an instant and he started to fall backwards. Using every ounce of your strength, you were struggling to keep him upright because damn this boy was heavy. And when his weight eventually bore you down, you lowered him down gently.

There was no response even after you called out his name and shook his body. His breathing was laboured and you were panicking. You didn’t know the potion would be this strong.

Spotting a group of students who were passing by outside of the classroom, you called out to them for assistance. Sebastian was then taken to the infirmary and was given proper treatment by Nurse Blainey.

You had to awkwardly explain what caused the brunette to lose his consciousness. Given the fact that you were practising and using potions for non-study purposes, disciplinary action was necessary and you were required to attend detention tomorrow.

When you returned to your room that night, all you did was shift around in your bed. Spending the entire night thinking about Sebastian and how he will wake up in the morning hating you.

But for now, all you could do was wait.

When the sun rose, you were quick to get back on your feet and head towards the infirmary to check on Sebastian before breakfast started. But to your surprise, he was no longer there. Nurse Blainey said he woke up all energetic and there were no signs of any disturbance so she allowed him to get on with school.

You were slightly relieved to know that Sebastian was feeling better. Although the question of his feelings towards you remained unknown.

So you ventured on, heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. Moving along with a crowd of students who were also making their way to the venue you suddenly bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry.” You glanced up to see it was no other than Sebastian, “Hey, I was looking for you.”

You’ve caused some traffic considering you abruptly stopped in the middle of a walkaway crowd. Some were bumping into you and muttered under their breaths in annoyance. It was a horrible time to be upsetting people—hungry and grumpy people.

So Sebastian dragged you away from the crowd. You were caught a little bit off guard at the sudden tug on your elbow. Your feet were almost stumbling around trying to catch up to Sebastian’s pace.

“Are you insane?” Was the first thing he said when you found a quiet little corner away from the bustling people.

Your stomach clenched.

This was it.

The memories you shared for the past two years dramatically flashed before your eyes— the adventures, the late night studies, the stupid unfunny jokes he made but you laughed at them anyway— fuck.

This was it.. he hated you.

“Why would you tell Nurse Blainey the truth about everything?” He sounded quite aggravated. Unexpectedly, it was not for the reason you thought it would be— albeit he should be angry towards you for no reason at all considering the potion.

Your mouth gaped open but you were struggling to find the words.

"You could've just said it was a bad batch for our assignment," He explained. "You didn't have to get detention for it."

“What?” You finally managed to sputter out.

“Blainey said she gave you detention.” He added, “I feel bad.”

You can’t feel bad for someone you hate unless they fall into lava and viciously die or something. Because to feel bad meant having empathy, and to feel empathy meant he cared, which meant he didn’t hate you and the potion never worked.

Right?

“So you don’t hate me?” You asked carefully.

His tensed brows gradually softened as realisation dawned on him. He was so focused on you that he never really thought of what the potion was supposed to make him feel.

“I don’t, actually.” He sounded relieved and as were you upon hearing his confirmation, “I guess the potion never worked after all.”

Relief washed over you like a cool breeze on a hot day. Though you started wondering if the potion didn’t work on Sebastian, it might’ve not worked on Leander either. Which meant you were back to square one, trying to figure out how to deal with his annoying arse.

But it was a problem you didn’t want to think about too much at the moment. You were just glad your friendship with Sebastian remained intact despite the unfortunate mishap.

“So what did Blainey assign you to do?”

“She said Scribner has been fussing over some organising issues.” You grumbled, “She told me to give her some assistance after classes.”

“Yikes.” Sebastian said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” You retorted, “Are you really feeling alright?”

“As normal as I can be.” He smiled reassuringly, “Though, you still haven’t told me why you were trying to repel Leander.”

“He just..” You hesitated for a moment, annoys me.”

Technically, you didn’t lie. Leander’s entire antics had been nothing but annoying to you. Sebastian only pursed his lips and nodded. Be that as it may, his eyes were looking at you rather dubiously. But he didn’t pry further.

–

After breakfast, you had some time to kill before class started. You found yourself seeking solace in the quiet lounge area near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. With a book on Revulsaroma in hand, you sought answers in its pages that you might have missed. It explained further about its history and the past research on this potion. As you delved deeper, a particular section caught your eye that described a crucial detail—

The Revulsaroma potion's effectiveness in repelling a drinker is contingent upon the absence of strong positive emotions towards the potion-maker. If the drinker harbours genuine affection for the potion-maker, the potion's repelling properties may be nullified or significantly weakened. This phenomenon is attributed to the potent influence of positive emotions, which can act as a counterforce against the potion's intended repulsion.

Before you could dwell on it further, Leander plopped beside you out of nowhere and casually draped his arm around your shoulder, interrupting your thoughts.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He greeted you with a smile so charming if he wasn’t so pushy about it you could see yourself giving in to his cheesy escapades. You subtly shifted away from the sudden proximity, hoping he would take the hint some time.

“Good morning, Leander.” You replied politely.

He seemed to be undeterred by your subtle attempt because he leaned in closer, “So, I was thinking, with the weather getting nicer and all, let’s take a trip around the highlands.” He sounded so enthusiastic for a suggestion that’s so inappropriate, “We could explore the beautiful scenery. My family has this cosy little cottage just outside of Keenbridge that we can use. What do you think?”

You scrunched up your nose because it sounded bloody ridiculous, “A bit intimate, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of intimacy?”

“Nothing wrong with it, of course. If you’re a couple.”

“Oh, come on. You’ll love it.” Leander’s enthusiasm didn’t waver, if anything he sounded even more excited.

“It’s too much—”

He interrupted you with a tone so persuasive, “Okay fine, how about just a simple Hogsmeade date, then?”

You sighed at his persistence. It’s really getting too much.

“Leander, it’s really sweet but—”

Suddenly, your conversation was interrupted by a looming shadow casted over the both of you. Glancing up, you saw Sebastian standing there with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“I’m going to count to three, Prewett, and you are going to stand up and get your arse the fuck out of here.” He demanded.

“What are you going to do about it if I don’t?” He was annoyed by Sebastian's sudden intervention.

The brunette’s gaze was focused on the way Leander had his arms wrapped around your shoulder and the way his hand was caressing your arm at the same time. Then he stared dead into Leander's eyes, “You don’t want to find out.”

Somehow you found yourself caught in the middle of the sudden hostility.

“Sebastian.” You warned him softly.

“Ignore him.” Leander didn't care for the threat. But Sebastian wasn’t having it and when Leander was ready to ignore him and continue his conversation with you, Sebastian grabbed him by his collar that it forced Leander to stand up, and he dragged the red haired boy away and slammed his back into a nearby pillar.

“I told you to fucking stand up and get out of here.” Sebastian scowled.

“Get your filthy hands off of me.” Leander attempted to shrug off Sebastian’s grip but it only grew tighter.

“Then you better get yours away from her.” His voice was so low and menacing. You had no idea what possessed him, because as aggressive as Sebastian could get he wouldn’t be so quick to resort to anything so recklessly physical unless it’s necessary— at least not anymore.

“Are you both out of your minds?” You stood beside the conflicting boys, “Stop being children or you will get into trouble.” The confrontation was drawing more attention from onlookers, and you could sense the tension rising.

A crowd started gathering around to see what the fuss was about. Students nearby paused and turned their heads, curious about the commotion. Whispers and side conversations began to buzz through the group as they watched the confrontation unfold.

You felt a bit awkward with the sudden attention. The whole thing was getting more dramatic than you'd anticipated, and you just wanted to find a way to sort it out before it got worse.

“What is your problem, Sallow?”

“You are the problem, Prewett. Can’t you take the hint?”

“It’s none of your business.” The Gryffindor boy was defensive— as anyone would be if someone just randomly shoved you into the wall and told you what to do.

“It becomes my business when you decide to harass her.”

“You are making a scene. Stop it.” You warned them, hoping they would steer away from the conflict. But they were still too busy with each other.

“Trying to be a big hero, aren’t you? Protecting her?” Leander was clearly taunting him. Sebastian wouldn’t usually allow himself to be bothered by whatever nonsense Leander would do. But this time was different, “She doesn’t need you. She can make her own decision.”

“And she did, when she said no.” Sebastian retorted sharply, “So back off.”

“If you are so worried about me taking her out then you should’ve asked her first. Don’t come here and act all heroic because you missed your chance.” Leander fired back, “If you weren’t such a coward—-”

There went the last cell of Sebastian’s brain that allowed him to think rationally when he decided to punch Leander in the face, sending the red-haired boy stumbling and his nose bleeding.

“Sebastian!” You stepped in between them, trying to push Sebastian back behind the line he just crossed. His eyes were glaring and breaths were rather ragged from the anger, “What the fuck are you doing?”

After being punched unexpectedly, Leander's pride and dignity were hurt. He wouldn't tolerate being attacked without retaliating. He mustered all of his anger and frustration to punch Sebastian with all of his force.

But before he could, Sebastian struck again, landing a second punch on his face. Leander stumbled backwards again, but this time he was quicker to get back on his feet and lunged forward, swinging his fists wildly.

Sebastian was able to dodge a few of his blows, but Leander managed to land a couple of powerful punches on Sebastian's cheek.

Sebastian stepped back, his face red from pain and anger. Now the two of them had no choice but to fight, and you had no choice but to look for some help. Luckily, it wasn’t long for you to reach Professor Hecat, because when you returned to the brawl, Leander was already pinned to the floor with Sebastian on top of him, landing more punches.

Professor Hecat swiftly casted a spell that immediately shoved both of them away from each other.

The two boys stood there with battered faces and were later sent to the same detention as you.

You had no desire in conversing with idiots, so when the three of you shared the space on one of the library aisle, organising books, you gave all your might to ignore them, especially Sebastian.

You thought he’d left his impetuous behaviour back in the catacombs two years ago, but clearly you were wrong. The way you aggressively shoved books into places allowed Sebastian to notice that you were furious.

“I know you’re angry at me.” He said, breaking the silence.

“Oh really? Didn’t think you’d notice. I was being subtle.” You replied sarcastically.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what had gotten into me.” His voice was soft but outright, “You know I don't fight muggle-style.”

You remained cold. There was nothing about his apology that made you feel better. So you continued to ignore him and he tried to speak up again.

“Can we talk?” He pleaded but you ignored him. You picked up a stack of books and moved to the next aisle to shelve them in their proper places.

Sebastian followed you behind, not backing down, “I’m really, really, sorry.”

He seemed genuinely apologetic, but you were reluctant to give in. After all, his actions had caused this entire mess and resulted in the two boys getting detention.

You didn’t want to argue with him, but you couldn’t resist making a point.

“Tell that to Leander and his broken nose.”

Sebastian let out a scoff, “I’m not sorry about that.”

“Seriously Sebastian? You hit him first. He just reacted.” You turned to face him this time.

"He was harassing you," Sebastian defended himself, "I had to do something."

"Did you have to punch him in the face? Repeatedly?”

“Why are you defending him?” His tone was rising, "What do you expect me to do? Just stand by and let him flirt with you?"

“What is so wrong with that?”

“Because—” Then he stopped himself. Eyes flustered and flicked between yours like he was trying to gather his own thoughts. Then he let out a frustrated sigh, “Leander is a self-oriented, self-indulgent, arrogant, selfish, insufferable jerk.”

You shook your head in disbelief and stared dead at him in the eye, “Well, right now it sounds like you were just describing yourself, Sebastian.”

Before you could say anything else, you left him alone in the aisle and this time he didn’t follow you.

—

It was Saturday morning, and while you had no classes to attend, you were still stuck with detention for a portion of the day. Not only did this eat into your weekend leisure time, but you also had to spend it without talking to Sebastian.

You sighed as you placed books somewhere in the corner of the library right where they belonged.

Couldn’t help but think that spending your weekend somewhere in the castle, perhaps the undercroft, reading books and being alone together with Sebastian was where you belonged.

Time sure felt lonely without his presence.

Then as if he could read your mind from miles away he showed up, “Do you like Leander?”

Shocked and confused by the sudden question you turned to find Sebastian standing at the end of the aisle.

His face was a patchwork of bruises and cuts, a visible reminder of the fight he had gotten into with Leander. A purplish bruise marred his cheek, and a small cut above his eyebrow was still fresh. Despite his battered appearance, his eyes were focused intently on you, filled with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“What?” You asked.

“I spent the entire night thinking about you. I thought maybe you like Leander, because why did you defend him so much yesterday?” He rambled.

You opened your mouth to say something but Sebastian wasn’t finished.

“But then I thought, if you liked him, why did you want to repel him with the potion?” He continued, “And why did you reject him when he asked you out? Five times, over the past month.”

You opened your mouth again, but this time every single word you have learned seemed to have fallen over your head because not a single thing came to your mind.

There were two things that surprised you.

One, Sebastian spent the entire night thinking about you.

Two, Sebastian knew that Leander had been asking you out.

And your brain did not know which one to stress about first.

“You knew about Leander?” You finally said.

“We share every class everyday. You don’t think I’d notice?” He replied with another question, “He wasn’t subtle about it either. Was I not supposed to know?”

You fell quiet, unsure of what to say next. The more you opened your mouth, the more you found yourself with nothing to say.

Sebastian waited for your response, but when it did not come, he continued, “Why did you keep rejecting him?”

You shrugged, slightly flustered, “Simply because I don’t want to go out with him.”

“Why did you not tell me about him, then?”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” you replied, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Sebastian stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe your answer.

“It was pointless,” Your tone was rising slightly, “It’s not like I would ever date Leander. I wasn’t even giving him a second thought. So It doesn’t matter.”

Sebastian was silent for a beat before he spoke again. “It matters to me.”

Your pulse raced, and the air suddenly felt tighter.

Sebastian was staring at you, his eyes intent and penetrating. The silence stretched on, and you had to force yourself to look him in the eye

“Everything about you matters to me. You’re my best friend. We’re supposed to share everything, right?” He added, “Isn’t that what best friends do?”

As you stood there, guilt was eating you inside out. Your decision to leave him in the dark unexpectedly hurt him more than you thought. The look in his eyes was so unfamiliar you couldn’t pinpoint his emotion.

He took a step closer.

“Why do you care so much? It’s just Leander.”

“Don’t you get it?” He said softly, “It’s not about Leander. It’s about the fact that he’s been asking you out, flirting with you relentlessly, being so close with you.. in a way that is supposed to be only for me.”

You stood there, stunned. His words hit you like a bolt of lightning, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion wash over you.

Sebastian took another step towards you, his gaze steady and unbreaking, and it was piercing through your soul.

“It’s supposed to be just for me” He repeated the phrase as if he was talking to himself. The look in his eyes was intense, and you could feel how important this was to him.

A moment passed until you realised that you should respond. The longer you stayed silent, the worse it felt. So you spoke up, “Are you jealous?”

“Yes.” He simply replied.

His response set your body ablaze. You could feel your heart pounding in your throat.

“I was supposed to hate you, but instead I woke up that morning in the infirmary and I couldn’t be more sure that I am utterly and completely in love with you.” His voice dropped, “And when I saw you with Leander and hearing all the things that he said, I meant it when I told you I had no idea what had gotten into me but all I knew was every single cell in my body was on fire.”

You thought for sure your heart would explode as all of this sunk in. You had expected anything but a confession. Your heart was beating so fast and hard that you had to concentrate on breathing, or else it felt like you couldn't breathe.

“I spent the entire night thinking about all of the time we've spent.” He added, “I can't stop thinking about the sound of your laughter. The way you'd still genuinely laugh at the most unfunny joke I would tell. Or how your usual bright eyes would fall into a deep immersion when you read. And the way your delicate finger hovers over the edge of a page, turning it over.”

A smile tugged on the corner of Sebastian's lips as he recalled every little detail about you that only he would care about. The beat of your heart went faster with each syllable that came out of his mouth and every nerve in your body was shaking.

“I always wonder how the touch of those fingertips would feel on my skin,” There were so many things he wanted to say to you. Every detail of you that made him so desperately in love, “and how perfect your fingers would be intertwining with mine.”

For a moment, you were one-hundred percent sure this was all a dream. Because everything around you seemed so blurry and all of the sudden everything felt surreal. But when Sebastian took another step closer, and another until he was close enough to grab your hands and intertwine your fingers together, the haze dissipated. The way his touch alerted every single nerve in your body, you knew that this was real— he was real and he was in love with you.

The two of you stood there, inches apart, staring at each other with your emotions overflowing.

“We belong together.” You could see that his intensity and raw emotion was getting the better of him. His words were coming out quick and sudden, “I should’ve asked you out long before Leander did. Just another stupid mistake I made.”

He inched closer and closer until you felt Sebastian's breath on your lips, and your body trembled in anticipation. You took a deep breath and let yourself fall into the moment.

“You could’ve been too late, you know?” You whispered.

“Am I?”

You shook your head and smiled against his lips, “No, you’re not. I’ve been stupidly waiting for you.”

Sebastian's voice was soft and tender as he spoke again, “I’m glad we’re both stupid enough, then. And for many other things that make me glad you're finally mine."

“Even the potion?” You smirked.

“Especially the damn potion.” A smile spread across Sebastian's face.

Your breaths were laced with desire, and your thoughts went to the first kiss between the two of you were going to share. It felt surreal to have arrived at this moment that you had both anticipated for so long.

Your lips were close enough to touch. Your hearts were beating so loudly. And in this moment, it felt like a moment out of time.

When his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away and everything else faded into the background. It was everything it had built up to be—hot and passionate and exciting.

You kissed him deeply and all was right with the world. Sebastian's hands wrapped around your back, and yours around his neck.

Your senses were all focused on Sebastian, on the kiss and the way he made you feel. This was what you had been waiting for, and it was everything you dreamed of and more.

When you pulled away, your eyes were locked and you found yourselves smiling uncontrollably. There was nothing left to feel awkward or unsure of, and it felt as if a weight had been lifted.

Sebastian brushed his fingers through your hair. You were finally getting your happiness.

"I love you," He whispered against your lips.

“I love you, too.” you replied softly, brushing your noses together.

You spent the rest of the day making out in the deepest corner of the library, neglecting your detention. And when Madam Scribner found the two of you some time later, all dishevelled, you were granted another detention time.

But neither of you cared. Because it was all worth it.

In an extremely rare case, the Revulsaroma potion could have an unprecedented effect, completely opposite to its intended repelling nature. Rather than nullifying or weakening, the potion might paradoxically amplify and reinforce any existing strong positive feelings that the drinker harboured towards the potion-maker. Due to genuine and deep-seated love for the maker, the drinker might experience a surge of intense emotions that can be both overwhelming and consuming, such as, jealousy, protectiveness, and overwhelming affection.

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