Chapter Text
Ominis Gaunt was astute. Despite his impairment, he could still see more than the average seeing witch or wizard. His oldest friend, Sebastian Sallow, was living proof of this.
For the past hour, Sebastian had been stuffing food mindlessly down his throat, his attention lost on something across the other side of the Great Hall. He paid no mind to any question that Ominis had raised. No mention of quidditch, duels, or hijinks (and Sebastian loved hijinks) managed to tear his gaze away. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that Sebastian had been poisoned or hexed.
But he did know better. And he didn’t need sight to know what (or rather who) had him so entranced.
“Sebastian. Please. Please. For the love of Merlin, stop with the staring.”
Sebastian spun around so fast he conjured a gust of wind into Ominis' face. He was surprised that the boy’s neck didn’t snap off from the whiplash. “Who’s staring?” Sebastian bit back defiantly, with the slightest tinge of guilt in his voice. Like a small boy caught red-handed (and red-faced).
“You. At her.” Ominis quipped, “As if she’ll disintegrate if you look away for even a second.”
Sebastian said, “I wasn’t staring-”
Ominis snorted.
“- And even if I was ,” Sebastian bulldozed on, “Can’t a friend look out for another friend?”
“Friend?” Ominis said incredulously.
No, no. It was one thing for Sebastian to call her a friend in passing. To explain it away because there was simply no concise word to describe the awkward purgatory between friendship and undying devotion. But to excuse this miserable pining under the guise of friendship? Come on. That would be making a mockery of his intelligence. And if Ominis learned anything - anything at all - from bearing the Gaunt family name, it was that he was not to be made a fool. Ever.
Dubiously, Sebastian replied, “You say it like that’s news to you.”
“Well, that’s because it is.” Ominis said pointedly, “Friends don’t look at each other like that.”
If Ominis had a penchant for drama, he would’ve rather enjoyed casting a cup of pumpkin juice into Sebastian’s terribly stupid face. In the hopes that it might wake him up from his denial. But alas, Ominis did not. So instead, he simmply folded his arms cynically in a display of disbelief. Imagining the shell shocked look on his best friend’s face would suffice for now.
Sebastian sputtered out, “Like what?” He flailed his arms inelegantly as his whole body moved in retort, “I look at her the same way I look at everyone. You, Nerida... even bloody Hecat!”
Ominis wrinkled his nose, “God forbid, you ever look at me the way you look at her. ”
“Like what. ”
“Like a soppy mooncalf babe needy for attention.”
Sebastian was rendered speechless. Like a fish out of water, his mouth floundered open and closed. Ominis had to fight the urge to roll his eyes so hard it reached the nerve-endings in the back of his skull. Sebastian was smart (sometimes too smart). But this wild goose chase was plain stupid.
After what felt like eternity, Sebastian muttered quietly, “I’m not a mooncalf…”
“Mhm.” Ominis managed through pursed lips.
“And I don’t look at her - in whatever ridiculous way you’re implying.” He said this more vehemently.
“If you say so.”
“If anything, I’m just looking out for her.” Sebastian began indignantly, “She’s been so busy running errands for every witch and wizard in this bloody place, I swear this is the first time she’s been in the building in weeks!”
Sebastian was being dramatic. Ominis knew for a fact that they had spent quality time together by the boat docks just a mere two days ago; huddled in close quarters after a trip frolicking by the Clagmar coast. If the hushed whispers of prying fourth years were to be believed, Sebastian had been the picture of bliss. Fully content and totally whipped.
But now here he sat, two moons later, a completely different boy. Moody and sullen, lost in the absence of her attention. Ominis has spent the better half of his lifetime enduring Sebastian’s many moods and temperaments. This - he had sorely decided - was one that he was less fond of.
She wasn’t even sitting all that far away from them. On a table near the entrance to the Great Hall, she was engrossed in a deep, animated conversation with Natsai and Poppy. After Ominis’ accusations, Sebastian had made the conscious decision to avoid looking her way. The mopey mooncalf comparison had wounded him a little. But the young heir could sense his friend’s impatience. He could sense the itch in his fingertips yearning to push himself off the table towards her. The anxious tapping of his foot, almost signalling: so close, but so far.
“If you feel so desperately inclined, why not just get up and go speak to her?”
Sebastian stiffened, “There’s no need, I’ve nothing urgent to speak to her about.”
“So, you’re simply staring at her in admiration?”
“Oh sod off Ominis, I was just-”
Before more protests could leave his mouth, a patter of footsteps hurriedly approached them. As if conjured by Sebastian’s sheer will alone, she appeared magically before them. The girl they’d been just speaking of. No longer half a mile away. Just here, at arm's length. In the flesh. Merlin, when had she gotten up from her seat?
“Sebastian. Ominis.” She greeted them with a wide smile on her face. Her bright eyes, filled with unbridled warmth, met theirs. Ominis swore he could hear Sebastian’s breath catch in his throat.
“Hey,” Sebastian said breathlessly, as if she’d sucked the wind right out of his lungs herself.
In the wake of her arrival, Sebastian instinctually moved to sit up straighter, smoothed the creases in his robe, and ran a hair through his unruly hair. The distracted, weary shell of a boy suddenly long gone, replaced by a young man full of spirit, miraculously brought back to life.
Good lord, Ominis thought, the boy was entirely smitten.
“Hello,” Ominis greeted, “I hear the Hero of Hogwarts has been quite busy.”
She laughed lightly before moving to fill the empty seat beside Sebastian, “I’ve certainly been busy, but doing nothing particularly heroic. I’ve somehow found myself becoming the go-to witch for slacking students in need of last minute potion supplies.”
How she ended up becoming the student body’s errand runner — Ominis would never know. The week she first arrived, she’d been quick to be coined the Slayer of Trolls. But from what he’d garnered from their few interactions, it was very like her to comply with every request that fell upon her ears, no matter how frivolous. The chivalry was strong with this one.
“Well I certainly hope you’re being well compensated, at least,” said Ominis.
“Being so sought after and all, I’m surprised that you managed to find time to squeeze us in your busy schedule.” Sebastian finally said teasingly, with only a sliver of bitterness.
She looked over at him and an earnest smile grew on her face, “I will always make time to visit my favourite Slytherins.”
She had certainly said Slytherins (plural). But Ominis had a sneaking suspicion that she was saying it for the benefit of one Slytherin (singular) in particular. And it definitely had an effect on him.
Just visible under the warm light, Sebastian’s cheeks grew red. The rumbling anxiousness that was rife in his body diffused into a soft, pacified murmur at her words. She had only said a small, simple affirmation. How hysterical it was that Sebastian Sallow - Hogwarts resident charmer - became mush in her small, delicate hands.
“And thank goodness for that,” Ominis interjected, “A certain someone has been prudently waiting for your return.”
“Is that so?” She said with an eyebrow quirked.
“He’s been in ruins ever since you left him by the docks.”
If looks could kill, Ominis would’ve been buried seven feet under rubble. Sebastian shot him a scathing glare, as if to scream how did you even know about the docks? Too bad Ominis would never be the wiser.
“Has he now?” She drawled.
“Please, I beg of you to fix it.”
“Well then, my sincerest apologies,” Her voice twinkled, full of mischief as she sent Sebastian a cheeky grin, “I didn’t realise I’d be so missed.”
Ominis did not miss the amusement in her voice. It made him wonder if she knew the effect her every waking move had on Sebastian. If she was aware that if she’d told him to jump or roll over, he’d likely pander to her every whim like an obedient puppy.
“Don’t listen to him,” Sebastian said hurriedly, “He’s delusional, what with all those extra hours Professor Binns has had him clocking in.”
Ominis cocked his brow. Oh. Is that how he wanted to play it?
“Right. I’m the delusional one.” Ominis said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Under the table, out of sight from her keen eye, Sebastian kicked Ominis in a bid to get him to hush.
Sebastian quickly returned his attention to the girl next to him. Mustering as much levity as his voice could carry, he reminded her:
“Onto more important matters… You promised me your time this weekend, did you not? Don’t forget,” Sebastian said firmly.
If Ominis wasn’t so annoyed by the frivolity of it all, he might have even thought it cute. All this yearning and nervousness that he radiated. Trying his best to appear nonchalant in the face of his Achilles heel.
Teasingly, she replied, “Don’t worry. I would never.”
There was a pause after she spoke. Suddenly, the air felt a little more dense. The soft, charmed look in her eyes — as they held onto his friend’s — became slightly heavier with the weight of things left unsaid. Just as he had in Sebastian, he sensed a longing deep within her. If Sebastian was mercurial, stolen glances and raging fires, she was endlessness, tender touches and sun in your eyes on a quiet summer day.
Merlin’s beard . It was both of them. They were both obtusely pining for each other.
Ominis cursed his own luck, how did he always manage to find himself in the middle? If he hadn’t felt it so outrageously out of place for him to say, he would’ve smacked both their heads silly with his wand and screeched, get together already you fools!
Instead, he just gently cleared his throat, which broke the spell between them. They’d both looked away, but a dust of pink still lingered on their cheeks.
“Actually,” she began, “I’ve been trying to find information on this blasted ancient Heirloom for Helena Thistlewood. If you’re also free tomorrow afternoon Sebastian, I was wondering if I could perhaps get your help in the library-”
“Yes.”
The word left his mouth so quickly and so forcefully (like it had been sitting anxiously on the edge of his teeth just waiting to be said) that a whole slew of slytherin students seated nearby jumped in surprise.
Sebastian hadn’t even waited for her to finish before hastily agreeing to her request. He didn’t need to. It didn’t take a legilimens to realise that he would drop everything on a whim to answer to her beck and call. But that didn’t stop Ominis from choking on the piece of toast in his mouth. He couldn’t help the ungodly, strangled laugh that stumbled out of his mouth from how obscenely obvious his best friend was being right now.
“Oh!” She said, a little taken aback too. Her cheeks had grown slightly pink at Sebastian’s fervent, impassioned agreement, “W-well, lovely!”
Even Ominis couldn’t help but cringe a little at the second-hand embarrassment. He wondered how Sebastian seemed so unbothered by his own… forwardness.
But it must have suddenly dawned on him, because his face had begun to turn a comically bright shade of red. Consciously, Sebastian pulled at the knot of his tie, loosening it as he spoke hurriedly.
“I-I have nothing to do after all.”
Ominis felt the grip on his wand tighten. Not knowing whether the urge to burst out laughing or to disappear entirely was stronger.
“Great! I- I’ll see you tomorrow then. After class.”
“Great.”
“Well then… I’ll leave you boys to it,” She brushed the folds out of her skirt before she stood up, nodded farewell, and made her exit. As she spun around, the pleats of her robe followed suit in dramatic fashion.
As quickly as she’d arrived, she left again.
Sebastian watched as she went. His eyes followed closely, never once leaving her departing figure. Not until she disappeared entirely from the hall. When Sebastian finally looked back, any trace of the brooding boy from the morning was gone.
Chidingly, Ominis said, “Don’t you have crossed wands tomorrow afternoon?”
Silence.
“Oh. Right. That… slipped my mind.”
Ominis snorted. Under his breath, he muttered, “Just friends, my ass.”