Experience Tumblr Like Never Before
Ominis Gaunt - Blog Posts
I live in perpetual fear that someone else has made the same memes when the template fits this well.
Hogwarts Legacy Requests!
I really want to get back into writing for fun, so I'm looking for some requests to get my creativity jumpstarted!
Hogwarts Legacy characters (especially Ominis and Sebastian), Hogwarts Mystery Characters, or Harry Potter characters in general are all fair game. Use the request button featured on my account and give me a character and a little blurb about what you would like me to write!
Smut is A-Okay, I'll trust you all to know what may be taking it too far!
Ask away, friends :)
I finished Hogwarts Legacy’s main story yesterday and decided I wanted more so I made a “journal” for my mc Hayden, that he’s been instructed to write to help deal with the events of the year. Just a cute silly idea. Excuse my bad handwriting.
1. Professor Weasley has instructed me to keep a “journal” as a way to heal from the events of this year. And while I am certainly not a fan of the idea, I believe it would be wise to leave a detailed record of the events of my year at hogwarts for any students who find themselves in a similar situation to my own.
2. Professor Fig’s memorial was today. It’s odd, him not being here anymore. A part of me feels as if I am at Fault for his death, if I had been quicker & stronger he would have survived. Professor blacks speech was truly horrible though. I hope that he is terminated before next year.
3. Natsai got cursed, and while she is better now, I wish she never had to experience the Cruciatus Curse firsthand. Good news is that Harlow is being to Azkaban and that Natsai no longer blames herself for her fathers death.
4. Truthfully, I’m worried about leaving for the summer. While my short time at Hogwarts has been tough, I feel as if Hogwarts is more of a home than London.
P.s I’m not looking forward to seeing father again
[crossed out drawing of Poppy]
1. Oo someone has a crush! S.S (Sebastian)
Shut up Sebastian!! H.W (my mc)
2. I thought this was MY journal! H.W
Nope, it’s OUR journal now. S.S
3. [crudely drawn picture of Sebastian]
I’m Sebastian and I like invading others privacy! H.W
Hey I do not sound like that!! -S.S
4. [badly drawn picture of Hayden with heart eyes]
I’m Hayden and I have a huge crush on Poppy Sweeting. - S.S
You two are ridiculous. - Ominis Grant.
[rough quill drawing of highwing]
Ooo, cute Highwing! - P.S
2. I swear if Professor Weasley ever ask me to see this journal Im going to fight Sebastian in the forbidden forest. - H.W
Why me?! - S.S
You started this! - H.W
[badly draw pictures of an angry looking Hayden]
Hayden is mean -S.S
[ each member of the group drew themselves]
1. Look at how handsome I am- S.S
2. What was the point of me doing this. - O.G
3. Natty, yours is so good! - P.S
4. Aw thank you Poppy, yours is adorable! N.O
5. So we can all agree that Sebastian is the worst artist, right? -H.W
Hey! -S.S
That’s all I have done rn, I hope it his post isn’t too confusing.
Ominis:
Ominis at MC:
I love his dopey smile
Look at them PINING
a moment in the nighttime rain 💕
Grumpy babies 😠😤
They'd be the type to tease each other to the point of irritation, then spend ages making up for it with kisses and giggles. ✨️
Devoted
a quick ominis sketch bc he's pretty and makes for a good warm up ✨
She's proud of her handiwork (and he loves it)✨💅
Drew this lil thing as a cover for my "Valentine's*" fic, which I just finished off today!💕It's up on AO3 and Wattpad! Snippet under the cut.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “For the handkerchief.”
A lump rises in Ominis’ throat. He manages to nod.
“If you could—” Allegra clears her throat. “—Gaunt, please don’t—”
“Tell?” he finishes. He sighs, flashing her a brief smile. “A talent of mine, if you’d believe it.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Fair.”
Another smile. She’d stolen many from him tonight.
“I should get back to Gryffindor. You should get back to Prefect duty,” she says. She rises to her feet, marked by a whirl of skirts and a brief rush of air. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
He stands and listens to her walk away, each footstep growing softer as she slowly makes her way down the stairs.
Then:
“Gaunt?”
Ominis tilts his head. “Chant?”
“You shouldn’t use such cheap silk for your handkerchiefs,” she says loftily. “It’ll give you pimples.” She hmphs, although there is a teasing note in it. “You’d think a Gaunt would be able to tell the difference.”
Ominis smirks. “Five points from Gryffindor.”
She laughs, and Ominis hears the swoosh of her hair as she tosses it, marching away in a chorus of clicking heels.
Happy Valentines! 🫶
I saw the original template by nasykuching and knew I had to draw it for Ominis and Allegra lmao. Please enjoy the most enemies to ever lovers, matching fic coming soon 😌
also featuring allegra's new hairstyle uwu 👉👈
you can't let your height stop you from looking the mean, sassy slytherin (who's a little cute, maybe) in the eye
A little sign of life sketch! I miss drawing my sassy blonde frienemies-to-lovers duo 👉👈
Oh, the magic of mistletoe 🎄
...was not necessary, they would have kissed in the snow regardless
Happy Holidays, everyone!
Hi, I'm Lyworth! I've been writing in the HL Fandom for a little over a year now. My works are mainly about Ominis x MC (Allegra), who I've also been drawing art for here on my tumblr. Here's a masterlist of my work, with my one-shots placed under a cut to avoid having a very long post. Come say hi if you give them a read! ❤️
Green is the Color - Rated E, Complete
AO3 | Wattpad
Friends to Lovers ♦️ Found Family ♦️ Fluff and Angst
Canon-compliant retelling of the last half of Hogwarts Legacy. Follows Ominis, MC, and Seb well into their adult years. Multi-POV.
"The good thing about not having sight, Ominis Gaunt used to joke, was that he at least had good sense."
A Song of Saints and Sinners - Rated M
AO3 | Wattpad
Rivals to Lovers ♦️ Sass and Banter ♦️ Mystery ♦️Drama
A retelling of the In the Shadows questline, with aged-up characters and a darker twist on Ancient Magic. Multi-POV. Also, a dog named Cat.
“Miss Chant,” came Ominis’ tired greeting. “Why is it always you?”
“Is that it, then?” Allegra said, voice raspy. “No, ‘Are you alright? I’m so glad you didn’t die,’ or ‘What happened to you, I’m so happy you’re still alive?’”
“Are you alright? What happened to you?” Ominis echoed flatly.“I’m so glad you didn’t die.”
The Unfortunate Inevitability of You and Me - Rated M
AO3 | Wattpad
Arranged Marriage ♦️ Pureblood Culture ♦️ Revenge
Ominis' plan has always been to run from the Gaunt name. But now she is involved, and now it is extremely personal. Or: Ominis and MC plan a heist to get out of an arranged marriage, and, oopsie, they fall in love. Ominis POV.
"But what makes this worse—what makes this whole thing worse—is that she is not a stranger, not some girl pruned and picked for this purpose. She is Ominis’ friend. His best friend, who he’s loved from the start."
Fate, Tailor-Made - Rated M
AO3 | Wattpad
Second Chance Romance ♦️ Pining ♦️ Miscommunication
Ominis misses the chance to Kiss the Girl. Nearly a decade later, he finds her working as a tailor, and everything comes rushing back.
The sensation that taunts him the most is the feeling of her lips just there , less than an inch away. He remembers her breaths puffing gently, invitingly against his mouth. Sometimes he can still hear her breath hitch as he leans in. Waiting. Wondering. Wanting, perhaps, just as much as he did.
But what Ominis remembers—and dreams of the most—is the part where he pulls away.
The Desk - Rated E
AO3
Rough Sex ♦️ Brat Tamer Ominis ♦️ Unholy Things are Done on A Desk
A fight can be resolved in many, many ways. Bending his current source of anger over a desk is just one of Ominis' favourite methods.
His hands found the seam of her stockings. They were soft beneath his touch. Allegra was a woman who was always covered in the finest silks and the softest cottons, and as delicious as she felt in them, Ominis had always wanted to–
He fisted his fingers into her stockings, shoved her legs further apart, and pulled at the sheer material until he felt a satisfying rip.
1 New Message - Rated T
AO3
Chat Fic ♦️ Modern AU
Ominis is partnered with a near-stranger for chemistry. For the first time in his life, he finds himself checking his phone more and more often.
Allegra Chant (Chemistry)
2:47 p.m.
Pretty please? <3
Ominis
2:49 p.m.
Pretty please? Are we 12???
Of Aligning the Stars - Rated M
AO3
Pining ♦️ Drama ♦️ Fluff and Sweetness
To Allegra Chant, Ominis shines brighter than anyone else in Hogwarts. For him, she won't wait for the stars to align: she'll go up there and make them. Green is the Color spin-off.
But for now, she came to some other realization: it was incredibly pleasant to just be sitting in History of Magic with Ominis.
🫶WIP Tag Game🫶
Thank you for tagging me @rypnami and @accio-bagel! Here's a mildy spicy WIP of Ominis x My MC Allegra for an equally spicy fic I'm writing up 🫶
Tagging @gingerlegacy07, @morelikeravenbore, @galaxiasgreen, @polarisgreenley to share their WIPs too uwu
The brats are bratting
Mildy spicy doodle of the aftermath under the cut 😛
Love writing/drawing Ominis x MC in sweet fluffy situations. I also love drawing/writing them teasing the hell out of each other 😂
A little Pride and Prejudice redraw made for my newest fic, and also because I wanted to draw Ominis and my MC with pining puppy dog faces ✨
Fic preview under the cut! 🫶
Fate, Tailor-Made
AO3 | Wattpad
Ominis Gaunt x MC, Rated M
Second Chance Romance | Friends to Lovers | Past Relationships
"Oh, but the sensation that taunts him the most is the feeling of her lips just there, less than an inch away. He remembers her breaths puffing gently, invitingly against his mouth. Sometimes he can still hear her breath hitch as he leans in. Waiting. Wondering. Wanting, perhaps, just as much as he did. But what Ominis remembers—and dreams of the most—is the part where he pulls away."
⛅💗Nippy
Fluffy Ominis/F!Muggle-born!Reader [T-Rated, 1.5k]
He laughed, a rich sound, deep from his chest. You glanced sidelong at him then. The glow of the lamppost was cleaving shadows over his face, cutting at angles, accentuating what you'd never noticed about him before – his beauty. Sebastian was boyish good looks, round cheeks, a devilish smile. Ominis had none of that same charm, but there was something so divine about his features, his sloped nose and knife-sharp lips, hair combed back in golden-brown waves. And his eyes, despite not seeing, were... intense, unforgettable. Vivid.
It's cold on the way back from Hogsmeade, and you forgot your jumper.
A/N: This is a scene from Troublesome and Unladylike Chapter 2, but it’s edited to work standalone. Jumper-sharing trope, Oh No He's Hot, banter and fluff ahoy. Reader is Gibby, but no prior reading is required. Enjoy <3
[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]
It was during third year that something about Ominis changed for you.
It wasn't a particularly warm day that March weekend, so it was a mistake on your part to go to Hogsmeade with him and Sebastian, late that Sunday without a proper cardigan. The afternoon had deceived you, the sun whispering against your skin, and by the time you'd bought everything but your usual stash of sweets, a swathe of clouds had rolled in, a grey ribbon across the sky.
"What do you mean, the essay was twenty inches?" Sebastian crossed his arms. "You're pranking me."
"It was twenty, Sebastian," said Ominis, exasperated. "I told you it was twenty."
You nudged your head towards Honeydukes. "Okay! Just to replenish my midnight snacks—"
"You said it was ten!"
"I specifically remember saying add another ten."
Sebastian said a word you could not repeat. "It's due first thing in the morning. Blast it. I better go back. Can I take a look at yours?"
"So you can copy it? I don't think so."
"I wouldn't copy it. Just... take inspiration from it. Verbatim."
He made the approximation of a glare, and Sebastian, wincing, turned to you with a desperate gleam in his eye.
"Gibby? Please?"
"Sure!" you chirruped. "But only if you're okay with a mediocre-to-dreadful Potions score!"
Sebastian threw up his arms in exasperation. "You two, honestly. I'll ask Anne."
When he hurried off, back to the carriages, Ominis snorted. "You're very secure in your mediocrity."
"It's one of my best traits."
To that he laughed. "Very well then. Honeydukes?"
By the time you came back out, armed to the teeth in your weekly supply of cherry pops, Fizzing Whizzbees and rock, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and a sharp wind sliced through the village. It only exacerbated by the time you stepped out of Hogsmeade.
Where there were no carriages.
"Fiddlesticks," you muttered. "We must have missed the last one."
His lips buttoned in displeasure. "Makes sense. You took a profoundly longtime deciding between cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties."
"It's a hard choice to make."
"Well, now we're going to have a hard walk."
About an hour, down the meandering path back to Hogwarts. Ominis gathered his belongings and headed off, wand drawn for navigation, and you scrambled to catch up.
As the chill deepened, the canopy snuffing the coming rays of the moon, you kept close to his side, aware of his warmth.
"Are you mad at me?"
"Why would I be mad at you?"
"For taking so long in Honeydukes."
He scoffed, not seeming particularly annoyed, albeit a little inconvenienced. "I know you well enough now to know you cannot be rushed in there. And I could've left you if I wanted. I just decided not to because I am a good person."
"My papa says if you have to tell people you're a good person, then you're not a good person." Teasing filled your voice. "I guess that makes you really quite terrible."
"Oh, yes, waiting for you. How rotten."
"Suppose I could give you the Good Person award. You just have to admit how amazing I am."
"Only a Good Person can bestow the Good Person Award, so I'm afraid you don't qualify."
"I take offence to that. I'm spectacular."
"Incredible how you manage to be simultaneously spectacular and mediocre."
"Hey!"
He laughed, a rich sound, deep from his chest. You glanced sidelong at him then. The glow of the lamppost was cleaving shadows over his face, cutting at angles, accentuating what you'd never noticed about him before – his beauty. Sebastian was boyish good looks, round cheeks, a devilish smile. Ominis had none of that same charm, but there was something so divine about his features, his sloped nose and knife-sharp lips, hair combed back in golden-brown waves. And his eyes, despite not seeing, were... intense, unforgettable. Vivid.
Your gaze unwittingly travelled down the column of his neck. He'd grown taller since you'd known him too, lean in the way a river meanders, lazy in its strength. Sturdy biceps were hidden within woollen sleeves – not muscular, but not flimsy, either, you knew from when Sebastian cast a Shrinking charm on his shirt once. The Gaunt family were all inbred, generations of parents and grandparents that were cousins, so Ominis was a product of centuries of incest – but aside from his eye condition, and his somewhat ropey gait, there were no physical indicators of poor health.
He was... arrestingly exquisite.
Oh. You blinked. Why am I thinking that?
"What's the matter?" he asked suddenly.
You flushed. "Hmm? What? What do you mean?"
"You're quiet. That's never good."
"I— can be quiet," you said, a little breathless. "I'm... thinking."
"Don't hurt yourself."
You swatted him, and he smiled lightly.
"Dare I ask what occupies your mind?"
How good-looking you are. "Sweets."
A tsk. "I don't know what else I expected."
You fell into companionable silence, but now something had shifted in your stomach – something that drew your eye back to his profile again, drinking in the details, the beauty marks, the even jaw, finely slashed, the quirk of his smile—
You stumbled suddenly, toe hitting a jutting rock. You flailed your arms, bags rattling, before you managed to right yourself – and noticed how he'd reached out, ready to catch you if you fell. Ever the gentleman.
"Careful," he warned.
"Yes, sorry, too busy staring at— the view."
The view being you. You forced yourself to watch your feet, frustrated. Stop staring. It was terribly perverse to take advantage of him when he couldn't see, not to mention impolite and very unbecoming of a lady.
"You're quiet again."
"Sorry, sorry," you said automatically. You hoisted your bags to wrap your arms around yourself. "Just— trying to stay warm."
"You're cold?"
"It's a little nippy."
"Nippy?"
"Sorry, Muggle thing— I mean chilly."
More than that now. The sun had dipped, leaving a paint stroke of indigo in its wake. Hogwarts was in view, but it seemed no closer, the path winding and long. You hadn't even passed the balcony yet, where all the older students hung around to do lewd things... like holding hands (that had been quite the shock when you first got here).
Ominis sighed. "You should've brought a jumper."
"I know. I'm silly."
"Tell me something I don't know."
You halted to put your bags down and pull your shirt sleeves over your hands. "I'll be okay. I'll jog it!"
A ruffle of fabric pulled your head back up. Ominis had pocketed his wand, sticking out of his trouser leg, and was shucking his jumper. The shirt beneath it caught, flashing his midriff when he pulled the wool off – you flushed an even deeper colour when he offered it to you.
"W-What are you doing?"
"It's cold," he said, like it was obvious. "You can borrow this."
"But— then you'll get cold."
"I'll be fine." He shook it again. "Take it before I change my mind."
The wool was coarse, a dark green with the Slytherin insignia emblazoned on the breast, but warm – warm from his body. Great Scott. You scrunched it before sliding it over yourself, and of course it was too big, drowning you, but it was the scent that disorientated you worse than a Confundus charm. Ominis never bothered to use cologne, preferring some scentless soap, but still it smelt of him. Sweat and wood and an oily lotion. When you finally pulled your arms through the sleeves and your head through the neck hole, glasses askew, you were dizzy with it.
Lord have mercy. Your gaze flickered to him – he'd picked up your bags of sweets with one arm. One well-defined arm.
"Let's go."
You could barely swallow. What on earth is wrong with me? But your heart was pounding, your ears ringing. He turned away to go, but he was also surrounding you, invading your thoughts with zero intention to leave.
If you were a Muggle, your mama would've thought to bring you to church with an agenda by now, introducing you to boys of similar age in hopes that later in life you'd find a match, marry, and start a family. When you were younger, the local baker's son Timothy liked to joke you could marry each other, an easy escape from the societal obligation to court. You'd agreed as all children do, appalled at the idea of parading around to search for a husband.
Magical folk didn't follow those same customs – strange as it was to adjust – but that didn't mean you didn't think about the future, about marriage. That, one day you might like to have a family. That it would be nice to marry someone of your choosing, someone both handsome and kind.
Someone like Ominis Gaunt.
Oh no, no, no, you thought. Please do not take a fancy to your best friend.
But by then, it was too late.
"Thank—" your voice came out as a croak, and you tried again. "Thank you for this."
He slowed about two strides away. "Bring a jumper next time."
"I will."
"Mean it."
"I do mean it!"
He smiled again, and your heart bounced. "We'll see."
Please reblog/ share if you enjoyed <3
[read Troublesome and Unladylike on AO3, Wattpad] [Divider credit]
A quick kiss between classes 🫶
He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled so broadly.
I wanted an excuse to draw the one scarf trope + a big, fluffy smile for Ominis just in time for cozy season, and also because he deserves all the fluff in the world🥺
"Stay with me for eternity, love, and I'll dance with you as much as you want."
I wanted to practice a different art style, so here we are: Ominis x MC, inspired by the work and style of JC Leyendecker's "Man and Woman Dancing." Reference under the cut 🫶
Anon has me over here giggling, twirling my hair and kicking my feet 🥺👉👈
no one writes ominis quite like @lyworth does with his perfect mix of sass angst and sweetness, her stories with her ominis x mc are just so well crafted that you cant help but believe in the love-you-in-every-universe trope!!
Shout out to @lyworth for their ominis fics ✨ go check them out on ao3 👇
10/10 ominis x reader/oc fic would let this author shatter my heart to pieces then poorly piece it together again with chewing gum
🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet
Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 5.4k words]
Never before had he really met a Muggle-born. He had no idea how naïve they were. How unprepared. Certainly, his family said they, and Muggles in general, were inferior, stupid, barely worthy to be at Hogwarts. Barely worth existing. But you weren't any of those things. You were just afraid.
In which, against the wishes of his staunchly pure-blood supremacist family, Ominis Gaunt befriends you, a naive Muggle-born Hufflepuff, and his life inexplicably changes.
Or, what happens when a pure-blood from an anti-Muggle family falls in love with a Muggle-born?
Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant.
[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]
TW: familial abuse, blood/ injury, torture, fantasy prejudice/ racism.
He calls you Gibberish, because sometimes that's all you speak.
In first year, Ominis remembers crossing your path after the Sorting ceremony. You, a shaky little Muggle-born, near no knowledge of the magical world and its machinations, and the depths of its cruelty. You, who only enjoyed wonder in everything: every moving painting, the candles that floated untethered, and the way the air hummed with something else, something ethereal. He remembers hearing your distinctive voice in the foyer outside the Great Hall.
He remembers how you, somehow, managed to get lost.
Your upbeat curiosity pealed like a bell amongst the sombre tension of the first-year Slytherins. For some reason, your hair is what Ominis remembers best. Later he would find out it was thick, bouncy wild curls pinched into two pigtails at the side of your head, but the first thing he recalls is the smell, faintly of something saccharine.
"You're in the wrong place."
A pause, presumably as you realised he was addressing you. "Aren't we going to the form rooms?" you asked, that high-pitched voice like birdsong at dawn. It was hard to forget, given the nervous squeal you made when you were called up to be Sorted. It was already ingrained into his head.
"You're meant to be going to the Hufflepuff common room," he said, frowning. Form. What was a form? He pointed his wand at the Hufflepuffs heading the other way through the hall. "Your house is over that way."
"Oh!" You giggled, a sickly sweet noise, and headed over. "Thanks!"
How did you even get them mixed up? Ominis still doesn't know. He didn't think about you again until the next day, when term officially began Charms. By chance, he was seated next to you. That smell again, that voice.
"Have no fear, Master Gaunt," cheered Professor Ronen, "I will be giving you more practical assignments, so you don't have as much writing to do."
That was some consolation, he supposed. Practical assignments played to his best strengths.
When Ronen moved on to check Adelaide's technique, Ominis heard your chair squeak. Heard the hiss of your clothes as you peered over. Something rattled on your face – glasses.
"It's... Ominis, right?"
He pursed his lips, displeased at the interruption. "Can I help you?"
"You're an actual wizard?"
"... What?"
"I mean, you know, you were born into this magic thing."
A pure-blood, is what you meant. "Yes. What of it?"
"That's great, because I just wanted to know... erm... which way around does the wand go?"
That had to be a joke. "You can't be serious."
"S-Sorry, I swear I'm not pulling your leg." Pulling your leg? You laughed nervously. "It's just— my wand is a little crooked, and it doesn't have a handle, like yours— so I don't actually know if I'm holding it the right way up or not, and I don't want to blast myself in the face."
A wave of that saccharine soap again. Ominis wrinkled his nose and continued practicing Wingardium Leviosa. Swish and flick. "Can you really not tell?"
"No..."
You sounded genuine. Not joking.
Hmm. Never before had he really met a Muggle-born. He had no idea how naïve they were. How unprepared. Certainly, his family said they, and Muggles in general, were inferior, stupid, barely worthy to be at Hogwarts. Barely worth existing. But you weren't any of those things.
You were just afraid.
"It's the tapered point that's the end."
"They're both thin."
"Let me feel it."
You hesitated. "Feel— it?"
"Well I can't look at it, can I?"
Another moment of hesitation. An intake of breath.
"Oh!" You nearly blew out his eardrums. "Sorry. You're blind!"
"Well spotted."
"I didn't notice."
"I figured."
You made an indignant noise and handed it over. His senses immediately flooded. It was an intimate sensation, to hold someone else's wand, especially that of a near-stranger. To feel the springy wood beneath his fingertips, the coarse grains of the wood. A light wood, airy. He was no expert on wands, and certainly no Ollivander, but he'd been touching and feeling things long enough to recognise details most sighted people would miss.
Yes, it was crooked, an odd shape for an odd person. He drew his thumb up the wand's janky spine.
"That's the top." He held the handle and offered it back to you. "There."
"Brilliant. Okay." You took the wand back. Cleared your throat. "Here goes then. Wingardium Leviosa!"
Something shifted beside him. A soft fabric drew up against his leg, raising higher and higher, past his head—
"Wait," Ominis spluttered, "is that my satchel?"
"It didn't— oh!" Panic fluttered through you. "No, no, no! Stop, wand! Un-Wingardium Leviosa! Erm, Spellus Stoppus?"
He didn't know how you did it, but even when he told you the right orientation, still you managed to point it the wrong way, the tip facing the bag by his chair, and Professor Ronen had to instruct you on the correct way by using chalk to mark the right end – after he got Ominis' bag down from the ceiling.
There are so many things he still doesn't understand about you.
Weeks into first year, when he'd learnt to adapt to your strange, Muggle quirks, your funny language and unwittingly explosive efforts in other classes, the two of you were doing homework on the lawn with Ominis' Slytherin dormmate, Sebastian Sallow. Sebastian thought you odd, too, but he had more exposure to Muggles than Ominis did – certainly more than the anti-Muggle disdain he received at home – and quickly warmed to your jolly attitude.
"It's strange. My dad hears all the confectionary chatter from America. Apparently this thing called peanut butter is making waves over there now." You grounded the sugar quill with your teeth – Ominis could hear it like a second heartbeat. "Doesn't that sound disgusting?"
"It does," marvelled Sebastian. "Butter and peanuts? What a strange combination."
"I know!" You rolled onto your back – and Ominis caught it again. Your scent. So intrinsically tied to you that every fresh wave made him feel comforted somehow. "You can't just put those two things together!"
"Your soap," Ominis blurted, and the conversation paused so abruptly that his cheeks heated. "What is it? It doesn't smell like anything I know."
"Oh, yes." Your voice was contemplative, sheepish as you pushed up your glasses. "I brought it from home. It reminds me of my family. Smells like our confectionary shop."
That didn't answer the question, and by his expression, you knew it.
"It's strawberry laces! You know? They're strawberry-flavoured, and they look like laces..."
"What in Merlin's name is a strawberry lace?"
"It's a type of candy! They're chewy and sweet!"
"Are they laces for your shoes?"
"No! That's just the shape of them."
Sebastian leant over crinkly parchment. "Do you mean red liquorice?"
"Yes!" You belted it so loud Ominis fell back. "Sorry! Sorry, yes. Red liquorice. That's its proper name."
"Then why didn't you call it red liquorice?"
"... Because it's strawberry laces. That's what we call them. It's my favourite treat."
"But that makes no sense! Why not just call it what it is?"
"Is it a Muggle thing?" Sebastian asked.
"No." A beat. "Maybe?"
Ominis scoffed. "You talk so much nonsense I can barely understand you sometimes."
You spat out your tongue. "Oh yeah, Ominis Gaunt? Mister, I Cast Whoopy-Doopy-Goopy to make your Thingimajig Ringadingdong?"
He spluttered, exasperated. "I don't sound like that! That's— that's just gibberish!"
"... Wait, is gibberish an actual language? Because goblins speak Gobbledegook, so..."
Sebastian howled with laughter. Your naivety was kind of adorable.
"The only one who speaks gibberish here," Ominis said, going back to his wandwork, "is you."
"Hmph!" You enunciated your indignation with such purpose. "Then maybe I'm fluent!"
And you were. You still are.
Neither Ominis nor Sebastian let you live it down, and the effects rippled throughout the first years. Sebastian's sister Anne found you adorably strange and joyfully brazen. Your Hufflepuff housemates enjoyed your humour and shenanigans. Even outside of your mismatched little groups, others in the the year, like Amit Thakkar and Garreth Weasley, thought you were a hoot, the silliest Muggle-born they'd ever met. Gibberish was your native language, and they all agreed. Soon everyone gave you the nickname. At one point it became Gibby. You pouted at each mention at first, but you grew fond of it eventually – then wearing it like a badge of honour. You adopted it, made it your own.
And even into second and third year, when the magical world became more familiar, you were Gibby.
Of course, you were never Gibby when Ominis wrote home. You were never anyone. It didn't take Ravenclaw wisdom to clock that his friendship with you was never considered proper. Pure-bloods, you learnt as quickly as he did, were the superior blood-status, and Muggle-borns the dregs left to rot at the bottom of the scummy barrel. That Mudblood was a slur of the lowest calibre. Ominis was shrewd enough to lie by omission in his letters back home, when his parents demanded to know about his friends and alliances. He simply never mentioned you at all, and all your adventures were given to Sebastian.
That didn't stop them from finding out.
"Who is she?"
Father had marched him to his study, made him sit. Even though a fire roared in the hearth, the place was cold, a slick tar against his skin. Even in the plushest chair, a high-back velvet with curling arms, he was the most uncomfortable he'd ever been. Even though he was blind, he could feel his parents' gaze like the tips of a thousand knives, pressed to the soft flesh of his throat.
"She's— no one."
"Don't lie to me," snapped his father. His mother was silent but complicit, by the way she paced from wood to carpet to wood again. "Edwin Malfoy said his son mentioned you frolicking around the school with some Hufflepuff. A Muggle-born."
There was no way he could deny it. Damn Peregrine Malfoy. They weren't in the same year group at school; why did he have to mention you at all? Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut? It had been three years already – what was another four?
Ominis contemplated what to say, urging his fingers to still, his toes to flatten. He could not betray his fear, betray the sudden rising heartbeat, the clamminess of his palms, nor the pure, unadulterated dread that roiled through him.
"It's— it's just Gibby," he forced out as calmly as he could.
"Gibby?" shrilled his mother.
"Not her real name," Ominis said quickly. "It's actually—"
"But she's Muggle-born?" his father demanded.
"Yes, but—"
"Have we taught you nothing, boy? Muggles, and their filthy spawn, are weak. Muggle-born magic is diluted, and therefore they are not worthy to wield it."
His mother was sobbing in the corner, like this extended hand of friendship he'd given to you, this supposed error, was grievous enough to tear a hole through her heart.
"Our bloodline is sacred. We are descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin himself! When you choose to associate with these disgusting Mudbloods," he spat the word, "you are sending a message that these interlopers can take our land, our magic and our privileges. They can encroach on what is rightfully ours. Did you know they used to burn witches? Even though, in every way, we are superior to them?" His father drummed impatient fingers on the marble mantelpiece. Each clack sent more and more terrified shivers down Ominis' spine. "A good thing Noctua went missing. Spending too much time with her addled you. Now we must have a more formal hand in your education."
Ominis didn't know how to respond to that. How could they say that about Aunt Noctua? "What do you—?"
A knock at the door cut through his words – Ominis immediately recognised the knock's low timbre. His older brother. Marvolo. Panic rendered him paralysed.
"Come in," called his father.
Ominis heard his brother's footsteps. Heard the cruelty of his smile.
"Is it time, Father?"
"Yes. Take him downstairs."
Ominis didn't speak. There was no point. Marvolo, of all his older siblings, was the cruellest, an exact replica of their father who despised Muggles and Muggle-borns, despised Noctua, and revered the family name and the bloodline as divine, rather than simply blood and sinew and a surname. His grip on Ominis' shoulder was hard enough to draw blood, curled into the muscle like claws.
They all went downstairs, silent. Ominis had never been to this part of the house before – sometimes, when the moon was highest, when he stowed quietly to the kitchens for a midnight nibble, he heard screaming. At first he thought it his imagination, the night playing tricks on his keen senses.
When he descended into the cellar, he realised for the first time that it was not the night's whims having their fun. The dark, after all, had never been so wicked to him before.
The smell was the first thing that hit him. A strong, tangy scent, coppery and unpleasant. Blood. He couldn't help a sharp intake of breath, which only left the taste on his tongue. The chill was second, as bone-deep as a tundra. By the echo of breath, the ceiling was low and poorly lit, for his father cast a Fire charm at the braziers besides the doorway.
There was a ruffle of cotton. A low murmur. Marvolo's grip ceased, and he roughly shoved Ominis forwards.
"Do you know what's in front of you?"
Tremoring, Ominis reached for his wand. In the time he'd bought it at Ollivander's, it had become something special to him. A way to navigate the castle, yes, but it was much more than that. Almost sentient. It seemed to know how he was feeling and how to react to it, just as it did now, pulsing like a wild heartbeat beneath his fingertips. At eleven he'd been sceptical of the phrase 'the wand chooses the wizard', but now he believed there was truth in it. His wand had shown him that magic was in the air, all around him – all he had to do was draw on it.
He reached out, trying to fit together the scattered pieces of feedback. The ruffles and strangled breaths and scratch-scratch of rope. The cold, as sharp as the ice they used to keep fruit and meat fresh. The overwhelming smell of blood and dirt.
"Is—" He shouldn't have second-guessed himself, not with his family present, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing, smelling, tasting, what he was potentially beholding. "Is that a person trussed up?"
"You missed an important factor," said his father. "This is no person. This is mud."
A Muggle.
The Muggle whimpered. There was some gag around their mouth, and yet Ominis deciphered every note of fear.
"But this is dangerous!" He went to hide his wand, but Marvolo's hand stopped him. "You shouldn't have brought—"
"We can do what we want," Marvolo said. "We're Gaunts, little brother, and this scum before you requires humbling."
Ominis swallowed bile. Perhaps errantly, your voice hummed in his mind then. Your laugh. He imagined hearing it. Imagined it was you tied to the floor.
"No," he said at once. "I won't do it."
"The Cruciatus Curse has been used to subdue our enemies for centuries." Pride flowed through his brother's words. "You should be overjoyed to have this opportunity. Your siblings and I were thrilled with our first Muggles."
They've tortured innocent people before. All his brothers and sisters – they'd all done it.
"But— I can't hurt them. T-They've done nothing wrong to me. They're just—"
"They are worms beneath our boots, and their very existence is an abomination." Marvolo gave him a rough jerk. "I taught you how to use Crucio."
Yes, but Ominis swore it was only for self-defence.
When he didn't reply, Marvolo spoke, "So cast it now, on the Muggle."
Ominis shook his head. Fear and panic ran his mouth dry. "I can't."
"You will, or so help me, boy, you'll be a disgrace to the family," muttered his father. "Cast it."
"No."
"Cast. It."
"I won't."
Marvolo's laugh rang out. "I didn't realise your spine was made of cotton, Ominis."
But Ominis was made of steel in that moment, for he couldn't imagine a better reason to defy his family than for the sake of Muggles and Muggle-borns. For you.
"I won't cast it."
"Then you clearly need some encouragement." And before Ominis could even process what that meant, Marvolo yelled, "Crucio!"
It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pain, as he understood, was simply a reflex of the body to let the brain know something, somewhere, was wrong. A warning sign to cease whatever behaviour was causing it.
This was pain with no epicentre. There was no singular point that was bowing to the most pressure. This was all-encompassing and never-ending. This was his stomach and chest and heart, his brain and lungs, from the tips of his fingers to the knobs of his shoulders and knees and the ends of his toes. Every part of him, alight, doused in oil and set on fire through the concentrated rays of the sun.
Nowadays he doesn't remember that moment very clearly. The anguish was so great, he must've blacked out once or twice. Marvolo held it for a long time, longer than he needed to ingrain his foul teachings. All Ominis does remember is the pain, so acute that words fail to describe it, even to this day.
And the thought, back then, that his family could cause such pain, tore something inside him he would never be able to stitch back up.
When his brother released the curse, Ominis was curled up on the floor. Something wet lay beneath his cheek. Perhaps sweat. Perhaps spit. Perhaps blood, his own or the Muggle's. Perhaps even piss, for the curse had been too much for his bladder to handle. Every nerve ending on his skin was trembling. He'd let go of his wand somewhere in the room, and even now he couldn't sense it, like the pain had burned a hole where instead should be that bond.
"That is a Gaunt," said his father, pride sugaring his tone. "Your brother didn't hesitate."
Marvolo's voice was warm with mockery. "I have no qualms using the Cruciatus Curse on you, little brother, if it will teach you a valuable lesson."
What lesson could that possibly be? In the dizziness, Ominis couldn't untangle what the crucial moral was. It was a puzzle he couldn't solve, and perhaps never would.
"Would you like me to cast that on you again?"
"No!" Ominis managed to weep. He dribbled as he did, and shame burst through him. "N-No, please."
"Then get up," Marvolo hauled him to his feet, whether he was ready or not, "and cast it on someone who really deserves it."
Ominis is ashamed of the memory that follows. Sometimes he wishes he could alter it, pull it out of his mind like brittle thread and snap it into pieces, but then he wouldn't remember the valuable lesson he did learn that day. That his family were a cruel peoples.
And, as he raised his wand at his victim, that he was cruel now too.
"Crucio!"
Back near the end of third year, Ominis had found you climbing a tree on the school grounds. The wind was high and fretful – like his nerves, hearing you so far up, that carefree giggle carried on the current like bird's wings.
"Is that you, Gibby?"
"Ominis!" you chirruped. "You have to come up. The view is great!"
"I bet it's really swell."
"Sorry, sorry! I mean— oh, just come up! It's amazing, I promise!"
"You know you have a broom, right?" he called up, exasperated. "It's much safer than climbing trees! Where you could fall."
"I know! But this is all I've got back home, so I'd better get used—"
You let out a noise. The tree rumbled. There were four hard knocks that sent terror through him like lightning and a sudden thump on the ground like a knife to the gut. He rushed over to where you were crying out, breathless with pain. He'd never heard such a keening sound before, not in a physical, raw sense, where he could almost feel it himself. Pain that was almost too burdened to bear.
"Ugh, you're so foolish!" He nocked his wand skywards and sent out a flare. Hopefully someone would see it. "What have you hurt?"
You were in too much agony to reply – something had to be broken.
"I'm going to feel you, okay?"
You made a straggled noise he took for consent and pressed a hand to your arm. It came away wet. Blood. A broken and torn arm for certain then. You wheezed, too. Perhaps a broken rib. He pressed gently around, searching for the worst sources of pain through the leaf-ridden folds of your robes and shattered remnants of your glasses, but only when he reached forwards, felt the wetness around your upper lip and cheeks, did he realise you were choking from the blood of a broken nose.
He'd never felt a face before, not anyone outside his family. Yours was smaller than he'd expected. Your presence was so loud, so vivid, he'd expected you to match it physically as well. Even in the state that you were he could smell that sweet soap, and for some reason had the sudden urge to touch the rest of your face, explore how you were made, how the world shaped you.
"I'm going to staunch the bleeding." Instead he dispelled the thoughts and pointed his wand, enunciating as clearly as he could, "Episkey!"
A whip-like crack. You shrieked, but after a moment, your hysteria calmed, and he wiped the blood around your nose with his sleeve.
"I—" Tears filtered your winded voice. "I can't... move... my leg."
"It's probably broken too, like every other bone in your body," he retorted sharply. Good thing he'd had advance tutoring for healing spells. "I told you it was dangerous."
"I know," you bleated.
But his anger dissolved. There was no point rubbing it in your face. Whether he was right, or whether you had come down the tree perfectly well, you would've done it anyway.
"Can you last until someone comes to help?" he mumbled, lowering his tone.
"I can last."
"Good. I'll wait with you."
"Promise I... won't look into the light."
Ominis wrinkled his nose. "A sight joke now? Really?"
"No, no... it's a Muggle saying— never mind." A weighted pause. "Thank you."
He scoffed. "For being right?"
"Yes," you said softly, an admission. "But also... for being my friend."
Madam Blainey hurried over eventually and carted you away, cooing over your injuries, admonishing your actions, and Ominis stayed at your side until you drank every last acrid drop of healing potion, and you were fast asleep in the infirmary wards, at peace.
Even though you were silly, frivolous, an oddball who spoke fluent gibberish, he never wanted you to be in such pain again. He certainly couldn't imagine being the cause of it.
Which is why he swore on that day, after the Muggle had long since collapsed on the cellar floor, after his father and mother and brother delighted in his first successful cast of Crucio, that he would never again cause anyone such agony. Least of all you.
So in fourth year, he did his best to ignore you. To create a wide berth. And to find a way to escape his family.
He hung out more with Sebastian, even though his friend was slowly changing, ambitions growing. Both of them were equally matched in many things, like academics and opinions, and with Anne taking suddenly ill, trapped within the bindings of a unknown curse, Sebastian had his own demons about finding her a cure. They explored more outside – the countryside was huge, after all, and Ominis had always found the place intimidating for someone who couldn't see any of it. They lounged in the Undercroft more often – their own hiding spot to where they could escape the stress of school and home life and the increasingly pressing threat of a goblin rebellion. Mostly, Ominis went there to avoid you.
Sebastian quickly noticed you were missing from these adventures, though. Nothing much escaped his notice, even when his sister's illness consumed him – too shrewd to forget the giant girl-shaped gap in their homework brainstorming sessions, or learning questionable jinxes, or snacking on magical sweets. Ominis eventually confessed to what he'd had to do over summer – and what he would do to keep you safe.
"Very noble of you," Sebastian said, the wide, open walls of the Undercroft echoing his voice. "But you didn't have a choice."
"I did." Ominis shot at the dummy, again and again, to channel his frustration. "I chose to hurt that Muggle. I chose to cause them pain. And I couldn't have done it if I didn't want to."
"What else were you supposed to do then? Let your family hurt you again?"
"I should have! What I did to that Muggle... they're probably dead now..."
"Your family would've killed them regardless."
"That doesn't make it better!"
Sebastian yanked Ominis' shoulder, obliging him to stop, to listen. "You're being ridiculous. Your family forced you to hurt that Muggle. Now you're going to self-destruct an entire friendship because of them?"
Anguished panic stripped his insides raw, but he fought to contain it. "If they'll do that to some random person they found on the street, think what they'll do to her! My family isn't like yours, Sebastian. I can't risk Peregrine Malfoy telling on me. I won't."
Sebastian let out a singular, dark chuckle. "Don't you worry about Pretentious Perry. I'll sort him out." He exhaled, softening. "You ignoring Gibby isn't going to do anything but make you both upset. She's tenacious, and too loyal to us. She's just going to keep demanding an explanation until we give her one."
"Then she's going to be disappointed for a long time. Tell her whatever it takes to keep her away from me."
"You can't—" Sebastian let out a frustrated grunt. "You can't make me the mediator between you two."
Ominis turned back to the dummy. "I'm not asking you to. I don't care if you want to be her friend, but I won't. For her sake."
"Yeah? And what about yours?"
Ominis didn't have an answer for that.
He did manage to avoid you all autumn term. An excruciatingly difficult task, because teachers often paired the two of you together now – your chaos matching Ominis' order perfectly well. But he was cold to you, callous when you pried, outright mean when you demanded. You were as tenacious and loyal as Sebastian warned though. No matter what Ominis said, how rude he was, you never gave in.
Eventually the cold shoulder was all he could give emotionally. He was tired of drawing from the hatred that welled inside him, and turning it on you.
Over Christmas that year, Sebastian invited Ominis to stay with his family in Feldcroft, and Ominis agreed. So did the Gaunts, who knew the Sallows, albeit poor, to be a well-bred family, though perhaps less aware of Sebastian's more radical opinions on Muggles and Muggle-borns. It was good to see Anne, too – even sick, weak, body breaking down piece by piece by the curse, she was spirited and stubborn and filled the feminine void that was missing between him and Sebastian.
But she wasn't you. She could never replace you.
"Have you heard from Gibby?" she asked on one of her good days, when Solomon Sallow was mucking out the horses. She was tucked in bed still, wrapped in thick cloths and furs whilst the boys played Gobstones by the foot of her bed. "I miss her enthusiasm for Muggle sweets."
Before Ominis could speak, Sebastian declared, pouring on the smarminess, "They're not talking anymore."
"Oh?" Her curiosity was directed at Ominis. "Why?"
"We fell out," Ominis said through a clenched jaw, hoping his tone was enough to quiet Sebastian. "Nothing else to it."
"You and Gibby? Falling out? What did you do wrong?"
"Why do you assume it's my fault?"
"Because Gibby would sooner stake her own heart than argue with you."
Neither twin pressed, so Ominis didn't answer. Later that week, however, her prodding questions changed to sympathetic disagreement, and he suspected Sebastian gave her enough information to infer his reasoning. Unfortunately, Anne's thoughts on the matter aligned with her brother's, and though she frequently tried to convince Ominis of this fact, most of the time he couldn't stand to listen to it, and he simply walked out of the house.
She would never understand his decision. They did not have his family.
When Ominis returned to Hogwarts for the spring term, however, knowing Anne was partly right about leaving you in this middling state, he resolved no longer to hide behind feeble excuses. Sebastian was slowly seeking solace in the Dark Arts, something Ominis rejected vehemently, but even then there was safety with Sebastian's status that there never was for you.
He had to protect you by any means necessary. That meant it was time to end the friendship for good.
So it wasn't surprising when, on the first day back, he entered the Undercroft and found you standing there.
"Colloportus!"
The lock behind him clicked, the grille sealing shut. This infuriated him to no end – four years and your naivety still preceded you.
"You know I can cast Alohomora—?"
"Expelliarmus!"
The wand flew from his grasp, clattering somewhere to his left.
"That was excessive."
"Was it?" you challenged, coming up to him. Strawberry laces. "You've had the whole of Christmas to think about what a meater you've been, and I'm not going to let you start the silent treatment again."
Meater. Context was a useful thing at filling in Muggle-vocabulary-shaped gaps.
"How did you find this place?" he asked.
"I followed you, last term, when you were not talking to me."
"Why don't, for once, Gibby," he snarled, "you mind your own business?"
"You are my business!" you yelled – and there it was, the first inkling of pain. "Last year you were my best friend. You and Sebastian, and Anne too. Now she's sick and I haven't seen her in months, you refuse to talk to me and Sebastian won't tell me why!"
Ominis pushed out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Sebastian had done a terrible job at warding you away. Yes, you had spent more time with other people in your year, like Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur, and Garreth, Leander and Cressida and even the new girl, Natsai Onai. But still you crawled back to him.
"Like I said, it's not your business."
"I'm not accepting that answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting."
"Is it me?" you flung out. "Did I say something wrong? Did you get fed up with me copying your homework? Or showing Natty around? I know you pretend to despise everyone in that house. Or maybe it's personal? Have I been annoying? Do I smell bad?"
You never smell bad. He opened his hand. "Give my wand back, Gibby."
To your credit, when he asked for the thing that helped him make sense of the world, you retrieved it, no resistance, and placed it into his waiting palm. The brief touch sent a pleasant, unwanted current tingling through his skin.
"Is it family?"
Ominis snatched his hand away. "No."
"It is. It must be. You stayed at Feldcroft all Christmas." You softened. "You know you can tell me anything—"
"Butt out, Gibby."
"Ominis—"
"No. Listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once. I'm tired of picking up the pieces after you. I'm tired of your clumsiness and your stupidity. I'm tired of holding your hand and coddling you. This world is cruel, and since you haven't learnt it yet, maybe you will now. You don't need me, and I certainly don't need you. So leave me alone." Then the word slipped out, unbidden. "Mudblood."
Your gasp was drawn out, a long inhale that sucked all the light over an arid horizon. Ominis immediately regretted it. He'd caused that Muggle physical pain, he'd been a silent bystander as you fell off that tree in third year, but emotional pain, the crossing of a line that could never be turned back upon, the shattering of your heart into pieces no spell could mend... that was worse than any Cruciatus Curse.
"T-Take that back," you demanded, holding back a sob. "Y-You take that b-back, right now!"
He didn't. All he did was turn around and cast the Unlocking charm. The grille lifted.
You sniffled. Tears splattered onto the stone. In that moment, your sweetness had been stolen, your brightness dimmed. All because of him.
"You're a beast, Ominis Gaunt," you yelled as the lift churned into motion. "I wish I'd never met you!"
And he left you there, knowing you were right.
[Next chapter coming soon] <3 [Amazing art by Giselann, Divider credit]
Okay, so what if the sassy blond Slytherin with the pretty blue eyes is kind of cute, actually?
Aged up MC and Ominis are part of my fic!
(Reposted separately)
🥺
Oh my gooood what an honor to read on my birthday of all days!! So happy I opened tumblr! ALL THE CHEERS TO YOU ANON AND @hogwarts-legacy-hype I AM HUMBLEDDDD!
Shout out to @lyworth and her fic A Song of Saints and Sinners. A unique and captivating story. 10x10 recommend. The sass and banter are brilliant.
Shout out to @lyworth and their fic! ✨
enjoy the banter of Song of Saints and Sinners on AO3 👇
Ominis and his troublesome girl 🫶
A safe place to fall asleep 🫶
Drew a little fluff for my newest fic bc cuddly sleepy ominis is the best ominis