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floraphoenix · 8 months

Text

Three times Amit nearly kissed her (and one time he did)

Amit Thakkar was still adjusting to his new life in the tiny hamlet of Keenbridge. It was certainly a different pace for him, but he was enjoying it all the same.

He'd got a little cottage on top of the hill, a little bit isolated from the other houses, but he didn't mind.

Oh, and his obsession with the stars was still consuming him alive. He'd set up a small station for himself in his garden, a telescope on a rickety old table and several (hundred) scrolls of parchment just waiting to be filled with notes on his sightings.

The people were nice too, which is always a bonus. Well, most of them. There was one bloke Amit had the misfortune of meeting on his first day and he'd vowed he'd steer clear of him as much as possible because he was a right ol' piece of work. Amit didn't have the guts to face any sort of negative attitude from the man, and had developed a (bad) habit of scurrying away whenever he caught sight of him.

Merlin, he was such a coward.

He just didn't want trouble!

Then there was her.

Now she- She was someone Amit wanted to be around.

There was something about her eyes that managed to send Amit into a frenzy.

The very first time they had met, they'd quite literally ploughed right into each other on the street. Admittedly, neither of them was looking where they were going, and then suddenly the basket of fruit she was carrying was tumbling to the floor, half the contents spilling all over the place.

She only had half a second to watch sadly as an apple rolled its merry way down the street, before she’d dived down to retrieve the still-good food.

They'd collided with such a force that they both let out an audible "oof" before stumbling away from each other, and Amit let out such a fast string of apologies that even himself couldn't even decipher in that moment. He scrambled down to help, picking up fruit as she set the basket right and chucked her share in.

"Oh, I'm awfully sorry madam, I wasn't looking when I should've, it's entirely my… fault…" he had to trail off.

When their eyes met, Amit felt as though he’d fallen straight into a rather cliché romance novel; the way she looked up at him, irises glittering in the morning sun, long lashes batting, it was like time had slowed for him.

Her eyes tore right through him, slightly annoyed but unable to stop the humour from seeping through.

His breath hitched in his throat and he snapped his mouth shut, his own dark eyes staring right back at her.

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking," she asked, placing the last of the fruit back into the basket and rising to her full height.

(If there was one thing Amit was relatively proud of, it was his height. He grew quite tall in the summer after his fifth year, and suddenly he was quite popular with the ladies. Not that he had much time for… things like that… But it made him at least a bit more confident!

And right now, he was towering over her.)

"Oh, no, I'm fine, and it was my fault, I apologize for the absolute carnage," he rushed out, "and I'm sorry about your fruit! I-"

"Hey, don't worry about the fruit, I'm sure my mother will understand the circumstances when I give them to her." The lady explained, flashing a smile, before furrowing her brows. "Wait, I haven't seen you here before."

"O-oh, yes, I moved in a short while ago, um," he awkwardly stuck out his hand, "Amit Thakkar."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Thakkar." She shook his hand firmly, and the way she never broke eye contact made butterflies erupt in his stomach. "I live just over there," she pointed off to one of the houses, "so if you need anything, give us a shout."

"That's very gracious of you," Amit said truthfully, feeling a bit more welcomed than stupid after the whole fiasco.

"Right, I better be off. See you around, Mr Thakkar!" She bid him farewell, scooped up her basket, and bustled off down the street.

Amit just kind of… stood there for a bit.

Honestly, he was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the whole encounter.

He started off by mentally slapping himself. He'd made such a fool of himself, why can't he just look where he's going?!

Then, he gave himself an internal pat on the back. He'd spoken to a very nice, very pretty lady and there were no hard feelings. Result!

He had a feeling he was going to get on well here.

🐦

A few days later, that feeling dissipated. Because Amit Thakkar had now come face to face with the one person he did not want to see.

Mr Kaligan, the haughty, loud, God-loving and generally rude man Amit didn't find very pleasant was currently pestering Amit's new lady friend.

And Amit's lady friend was smiling slightly. She was chuckling along to Kaligan's (poor attempts at a) joke, and Amit couldn't help but notice the repeated glances she shot the man's way.

She looked uncomfortable.

But, Amit absolutely hated confrontation.

He'd rather eat Mooncalf poo than actually intervene in anything that didn't involve him. Even if it did involve him, he'd probably leave it as well.

So, he stood there, watching out of the corner of his eye.

"You gonna buy that, mate?" The shopkeeper asked, making Amit jerk. He was holding a quill that he'd picked up and hadn't really done anything with it.

"Oh! Yes, please," he hurried out, handing the shopkeeper the money before scampering off to try and not embarrass himself further (he seemed to be very good at that as of late.)

He shot a look over at his friend again.

She was on her own! Kaligan had apparently gotten bored and wandered off.

Now, Amit had two choices.

Choice one: go home. Stay home. Only come out at night.

Choice two: go and talk to his friend. Make sure she's okay.

His years alone - just him and the stars - may have done a slight bit of damage to his self esteem, along with his ability to actually communicate with other humans.

His years at Hogwarts may have also contributed to his lack of assertion into conversations; he'd often kept to himself, plus people weren't really interested in what he had to say anyway, because all he really talked about was the night sky.

He just didn't want to be judged and come off as something he's not, you know?

(The Spotlight Effect is the psychological phenomenon by which people tend to believe they are being noticed more than they really are.)

His decision was made for him, however, when his friend came strolling up to him, grinning.

“Hello again, Mr Thakkar,” she greeted cheerfully, closing her eyes as she smiled his way, as if the afternoon sun was in her eyes (it was.)

“Oh! Uh, hello again,” he said awkwardly, providing a wonky smile that looked my like a grimace (he looked constipated.)

“I’m glad I found you, actually,” she said, and Amit’s brain briefly shut down when she grabbed his arms and shuffled them around, so she was facing away from the sun and not screwing her face up like she had something lodged up her nose, “I wanted to give you this!”

She seemed to produce a very pretty and carefully decorated piece of pottery out of nowhere, handing it to him. Amit, taken aback, gathered it was plate, absolutely littered with-

“Constellations!” He blurted unceremoniously, jaw dropping to the floor. He stared at her. “How did you-”

“When you gave me your name, I could have sworn I’d heard it before, so I did some digging, and realised you’d written a very interesting column in the Daily Profit about astronomy and other sky related things. Consider this a ‘Welcome to Town’ gift as well as an apology gift. For running into you, of course.”

Amit was, for lack of better words, dumbfounded. He’d kind of forgotten he’d written that column, but for this woman to do something so kind to him, going as far as gifting something within his interests, well, it made him a bit giddy. He didn’t even know her, but she seemed to be determined to make a friend out of him.

“It’s… beautiful- did you make this?” He questioned, tracing a finger along the smooth, painted lines.

The woman gave a short laugh.

“I painted it, my mother made the base plate. I assume it is to your satisfaction?” She said in a joking manner, but she seemed to do a minute double-take when she looked up to see Amit watching her, dark eyes alight with wonder.

“It’s wonderful,” he stated breathlessly, bringing the plate a bit closer to his chest, as if he was going to hug it, “thank you ever so much, that’s so kind of you.”

“Ah, it's nothing,” the woman waved her hand nonchalantly, “just wanted you to feel welcome. How have you been faring?”

As the conversation progressed, Amit felt the tension leave his shoulders. They spoke about anything and everything; family, school, jobs and hobbies… The woman was so friendly, Amit felt as though they’d been friends for years.

It was… nice. Refreshing.

“Right, I better be off,” Amit said (for the third time), swinging his arms and doing an odd side shuffle in the direction of his house.

“Of course, I’ll let you go now,” the woman laughed, patting his arm gently, comfortingly, “get home safe.”

“You too. And, uh, thank you again. You’re too kind.” He stated gratefully.

“You’re very welcome, my dear. Good day to you!” And with that, Amit’s friend walked back up the street, waving over her shoulder, before disappearing down a path.

After Amit made it home and had deposited the plate carefully on the table, he leaned against the kitchen counter and thought over the experience he just had.

That woman could talk for England. Like, she just. Kept. Going. But he found he didn’t mind that. She had a way of speaking that integrated him into the conversation, asking questions and responding in turn, and she had such a nice voice and Amit realised with a crease of his brow that he may have swooned just a little when she spoke about what she knew about the stars. Oh, and when she asked if he could show her how to properly stargaze one of these coming nights only made his heart stop. Just for a second. Nothing serious. Nothing…

You’ve only just met her, you blithering oaf. Don’t act like she’s giving you the special treatment, she treats everyone with kindness.

Amit decided he needed to lay down.

🐦

“Oh, it's beautiful!” She exclaimed in delight, straining her neck to look upwards so much that she fell backwards onto the blanket Amit had laid out for them.

As per her request, Amit was showing her the different stars painting the night sky, explaining their meanings and names. Amit’s friend was, he was very proud to admit, thoroughly enjoying herself.

"That's the Seven Sisters, there," Amit explained enthusiastically, pointing up and tracing his finger over the small cluster of stars, "and the three stars in a row is Orion's Belt."

"I didn't know they had names, how fascinating." She said distractedly, raising a small telescope to her eye, a spare one Amit let her borrow.

A comfortable silence washed over them as they gazed upwards.

"The moon is so bright,” Amit commented into the silence, “do you think people could live on it?”

Amit decided that it was a very stupid question right after it left his mouth, and he internally scolded himself. What a silly thing to say-

“Now that’s a question I’d like to know the answer to,” his friend said with an air of excitement, making him raise his brows, “could you imagine? Living all the way out there- you’d be able to see Earth! What an interesting concept.”

Wow. Okay. So she didn’t think it was a silly question.

“Would you live on the moon?” He asked.

She pondered for a moment, fingers on her chin, before deciding on an answer.

“Hmm, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m quite comfortable with my life here, where I have family and friends. Plus, if I lived on the moon, I wouldn’t be using your telescope to look at the stars.” She laughed the last bit, running a hand faintly along the telescope.

Amit chuckled, “I suppose that’s true-”

“What a ludicrous question.”

Both of them froze at the sudden voice behind them, before they both whipped around to see none other than Mr. Kaligan, leaning against a fence post, arms folded. He had a spiteful look plastered across his (ugly) face.

“What are you-” the lady began, but was cut off.

“A man and a woman sat alone together at the ungodly hours of the night? Anyone could get the wrong idea.” He sneered nastily.

Amit fought the blush that was threatening to show itself, before he distantly remembered it was dark out, and was probably hard to see anyway.

“I-It’s not like that at all,” he tried.

“Well-”

“Well-” the woman cut the man off fiercely, “we were having a nice chat as friends, so I don’t see how that’s any of your business. At all. Were you watching us?”

“I was taking a walk-”

“At midnight?” Amit asked innocently, a very brief surge of courage allowing him to speak.

Kaligan stumbled and spluttered for a moment before sticking his ugly nose in the air and marching off into the night.

Amit let out a breath.

“Men, huh.” He deadpanned, sympathising.

“Wouldn’t call that a man, my dear. Boyish behaviour if you ask me. Might as well still live with mummy,” she responded, and they both snorted.

“On that slightly abrupt note, should we wrap things up for tonight?” She continued.

“Might be wise,” Amit confirmed, hiding the pang of disappointment of not being able to stay out some more.

“Let's do this again some other time. I had fun! You’re so interesting to talk to, and your knowledge of the sky is magnificent.”

“Oh! Um, of course, we’ll definitely do this again!” Amit had to prevent himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking too happy.

🐦

Amit’s luck the next day decided to disappear into the next dimension, because who should show up?

Kaligan.

And he was approaching him. Fast.

Oh, Christ, he looks like he’s going to hit me, why does he look like an angry bull? He’s getting closer, run Amit, stop standing like a lemon, turn and run damnit-

“Why don’t you stay away from her, yeah?” The man leered, and Amit instinctively drew into himself. “I don’t need you meddling-”

Mr Kaligan was suddenly cut off by the tip of a wand being dug ever so gently into his neck. He swallowed, snapping his eyes to see her in all her fury, jaw clenched.

Amit decided she looked quite fierce.

He also decided she was very attractive like this (he squashed those thoughts as fast as he could.)

“Are you threatening him?” She asked, voice dangerously calm.

“I…no?” Kaligan answered meekly.

Her lips pursed.

“I was a fool to think you were a nice fellow. Get out of here. Go on, shoo!” She spat, making motions of dismissal with her hands. Kaligan stumbled away a bit, turning around in hopes of getting a word in.

“But-”

“Scram!” The woman all but growled, a rasp to her voice, and her brows furrowed. She watched with stern eyes as Kaligan scurried back up the hill, cursing up a storm, before whirling to face Amit, who jumped in slight fear (she looked a bit scary.)

She proceeded to grab him by the arm, and quite literally march him through the gate, up her garden path, and into her house.

“Are you alright?” She asked immediately, taking him by the shoulders and scanning his body. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Er, no, I’m fine,” Amit answered, flushing slightly under her gaze.

Their eyes met.

Amit couldn't look away, although it felt as though he was staring right into the sun.

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. Blasted man…” she muttered, never breaking eye contact.

“Well, for what it's worth, I think you’ve scared him away for good.” Amit jested to lighten the mood, and she exhaled through her nose in amusement.

“I’m not that scary, am I?”

“You’re terrifying.” He stated lowly.

“Do I scare you?”

Amit was far too lost in her eyes to think properly anymore.

“You scare me a lot.”

“Is that a bad thing?” She whispered, blinking slowly.

They were awfully close now, and Amit doesn’t remember leaning in. He could feel her breath fanning across his cheek.

“Of course not.”

Their lips met in a chaste, barely-there kiss, just a mere brush of the lips, before the man pulled away.

“Oh.”

Oh, indeed. He’d just kissed this pretty lady, the lady everyone wanted to be with, he’d kissed her, oh it was a bit much.

“Oh?” Her tone was questioning; her hands were gripping his arms, just above his elbows, and Amit licked his lips nervously.

“I mean- wait, let me try that again,” and he leaned down again, closing his eyes and pressing his mouth to hers, and he felt her smile before pushing back against him, running her hands further up his arms to grip his biceps.

Ok, that was better.

His hands traveled down to her hips, bringing her a bit closer, and he felt her nails dig briefly into his arms.

Her tongue traced along his lower lip, and he gasped, eyelids fluttering, and then they were really kissing.

Tongue and teeth and lips sloppily merged into one, and they pushed closer against each other, as close as they could get, but she pushed forward so much he had to take several steps back, almost stumbling, and when the back of his knees hit the armchair in the corner by the empty fireplace, he almost tumbled backwards with the grace of a toad, had she not been holding him firmly and guiding him to sit. Their mouths never broke apart, not even when Amit sat with an “oof” which was muffled against her lips, and she giggled, bending over him so that he had to strain his neck to continue kissing.

She shuffled forward, pressing his knees together and straddling his lap, palms now resting on his jaw, just below his ears, and one of his hands made its way to run up her back, the other gripping the arm of the chair.

The noises they were making were obscene; sloppy, sucking, slurping sounds mixed with the heavy breathing as they kissed, the little sounds made in the backs of their throats, the gentle yet desperate whisper of each other’s names against their mouths…

Amit couldn’t help chasing her lips when she pulled away, cracking his eyes open, and if his heart wasn’t absolutely racing before, it definitely was now.

Her cheeks were flushed, lips slightly swollen and bruised, and he managed to catch sight of the brief string of saliva that connected their mouths before it broke and vanished.

He swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing, as he gazed up at her, and he had to admit she looked ethereal right now; the late afternoon sun shone just right through the draped window, creating a halo of light around her, and as she stared down at him intently, he thanked Merlin, the Ghost of Marley, and all things Holy that he was here to witness such a beautiful sight.

His thumbs traced circles on her hips as he watched her chest rise and fall as she panted, and his eyes trailed over her breasts…

He kind of wanted to put his face between them-

Oh, what a pervert he was! He was better than that!

She wasn't, though.

She dove back down before he had time to register, and she started kissing up his jaw, down his neck, hooking a finger over his collar to pull it aside.

Amit always chose to keep his top button undone these days, especially when the summer sun beat down during the day. Allowed him to feel a bit freer, but right now it was giving her perfect access to his collarbone, and she kissed along it.

She nuzzled her face into the skin where his neck and shoulder joined, and Amit hummed and tipped his head back against the headrest of the chair. He felt her nibble at the skin, licking and sucking, running her hands up his chest, into his hair, ruffling it so it's usual neatness was ruined, making it stick up in various places.

Amit didn't mind.

Her mouth was back on his again, and their tongues fought once more. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, and the little noise she let out shook him to the core.

"You're so pretty," Amit muttered against her lips, squeezing her hips slightly, "a beautiful star."

She giggled, leaning back and perching on his knees, "Trust you to compare me to a star."

"Mm, I can't help it," he said in a low voice, bringing a gentle hand up to brush against her cheek, moving a lock of hair and twirling it around his finger. "You're just so beautiful. Like Cassiopeia, the Queen. She was known for her unrivalled beauty."

Off he went talking about constellations again.

"Hmm, wasn't she known for being extremely vain as well?" She questioned with a tilt of her head, chuckling as Amit gave a small smile.

"We look past that fact." He told her, blinking slowly, a rather dazed look on his face.

Her chuckles turned to laughter, and she let out a short squeal as she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the man and hugging him tight.

He wrapped his own arms around her back, breathing in her sweet scent.

"Let me make you dinner," he suggested into her shoulder, "just us."

"That sounds nice." She said, not moving.

#hogwarts legacy #amit thakkar #amit thakkar x reader

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floraphoenix · 10 months

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Cause of Death: Crushed by Thighs (Ominis X Reader)

Warning: smut, characters are 18+

She sat on the table, watching as Ominis got to his knees in front of her. The room was feeling considerably milder than before. The blind man shuffled forward, taking her foot in his hand and kissing the top of it. His hands delicately brushed up her calf, and Ominis savoured the smoothness of the skin, gently pulling her legs further apart.

She continued to watch in silence, but Ominis could practically feel her gaze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, and he paused for the briefest of moments, before feeling for the hem of her skirt, lifting it and ducking his head under.

This caused her to gasp, and Ominis grinned when he heard it. She must think this is scandalous; a man with his head up a woman’s skirt? Honestly, who’d have thought it?

Him, obviously.

This will be fun.

Turning to face her thigh, he caressed the skin softly with the tips of his fingers, before pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. Up and down he kissed, feeling how the muscles tensed under his lips, and he smiled after hearing her breath hitch. Kissing soon turned to little nibbles, brushing his teeth along her thigh, and little nibbles soon turned to outright biting.

She let out a breathy “oh” when she felt his teeth sink into the flesh, and he pulled back, running a thumb over the skin and feeling the little indents each individual tooth had left.

Good. Maybe that’ll stay for a while.

He decided then that this particular thigh had suffered enough abuse, so he turned and started attacking the other.

Because he didn’t start off as gentle as he was with the other leg, instead opting to go straight in for a bite, her legs closed instinctively around his head.

What a way to go, huh. What a helluva way to die.

Death by thighs.

Ominis decided that, while it was honourable, “Cause of death: head crushed by a beautiful woman's thighs” was probably not an appropriate thing to put on his death certificate.

But back to the task at hand!

Another bite (and using most of his strength to pry her legs apart again) and his companion whispered his name.

Ha, nice.

He moved his hand upward, and was suddenly toeing the line of uncharted territory. One obstacle;

By the feel of it, in his way stood a pair of frilly knickers, decorated with a little bow at the front.

He traced his index finger along the seam on the garments, leaning his cheek against her thigh, unseeing eyes slowly blinking.

Was he stalling for time? He didn’t really know. He’d tell himself he wasn’t, but something was missing.

“Nis,” a voice sounded, and suddenly the skirt was whipped out the way, leaving his hair tousled and an utter blonde mess, and his head instinctively snapped up. His imagination totally got the best of him in that moment, and he gazed longingly upward, picturing this beautiful lady, with her mouth drawn up in a bow, and her eyebrows creased upward. His cheeks flushed, and he couldn't help thinking that maybe her cheeks were just as red, or maybe pink.

He could hear her heavy breathing, and imagined how her breasts looked as she huffed, rising and falling rapidly.

(These thoughts didn't much help his erection, which twitched in interest, straining against his underwear.)

She continued, “get the hell on with it!” before throwing the skirt back over his head, and Ominis did not need telling twice.

Hooking a finger over the waistband, he pulled the knickers down, tugging them all the way to her ankle. By this point, he’d emerged from under the skirt (again), focusing on getting the bloody things out of the way.

The offending garments dropped sadly to the floor, but were immediately forgotten about when Ominis sprung forward in anticipation.

He kissed her mound, revelling in the pretty sounds she let out, before licking a stripe along her slit.

"Ominis, please," he heard her whisper, and grinned against her heat.

It was times like these where he really wished he could see. He desperately wanted to see what he did to her; maybe she'd bite her lip so hard it would bleed. Maybe her eyes would cross-

Oh, what he'd give to see that.

His tongue darted forward, and he heard her gasp and felt her thighs tense as the wet muscle breached her opening.

Ok, he'd admit that he's never done this before. This was entirely new, and he was a teeny tiny wee bit scared or doing things wrong…

But, judging by the absolutely toe-curling noises his companion was making, he could assume he was doing a fairly good job.

Go team Ominis, woohoo!

His nose nudged her clit, and her thighs closed around his head once more.

He hummed, hoping she'd feel the vibrations.

Her hands moved to rest atop his head through the fabric of her skirt, pressing him further in.

He then proceeded to make the most obscene slurping sound, mouthing wetly into her tight hole, massaging her thighs with his hands, and by god was he enjoying it.

She tasted so bloody good. The smell of her natural musk, mixed with the lovely little sounds she made, made Ominis' head go a bit fuzzy, and he shamelessly reached down to palm himself through his trousers and groan.

The skirt had once again been removed from his head and bunched up by her hips, and she gripped his hair tightly, making the blind man gasp and quicken his process.

"Oh, Ominis!" She squealed, gasping and breathless.

Ominis brought his free hand upward and rubbed rough circles into her clit with his thumb, spurred on by the way she said her name, committing it to memory.

These noises will definitely be on his mind on lonely nights.

Ominis felt her clench around his tongue, and suddenly everything was a little bit more moist, and he knew he'd succeeded in making her come. He felt it dribble down his chin and he licked his lips, finally breaking away and sitting back on his knees.

"What a mess," he stated, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

"Your fault," the lady grumbled, chucking the skirt carelessly back over her legs, hiding his dripping hole.

"Mmm, perhaps," he hummed thoughtfully, getting to his feet. His erection was still present, but he'd deal with that later. Now was the time to be a gentleman. "But I gather you enjoyed it?"

"Mmm, perhaps," she mirrored him, and he could practically hear her smile in her voice as he offered her a hand to help her down off the table. She stumbled and he caught her, assuming her legs were still a bit shaky, and he couldn't help the well of pride he felt for that;

He did that.

"Ominis, you didn't finish."

"I'll live."

"Not after I'm done with you."

The bloody woman had the gall to slap his arse with all her might, making him jerk forward with a gasp.

He didn't doubt her for a second.

#ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy #smut

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floraphoenix · 10 months

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Ominis Gaunt the Humble and Very Modest (Ominis X Reader)

This fic was originally uploaded to AO3, but I thought I might as well throw it on here too.

Warnings: smut, characters are 18+

～⁠>⁠`⁠)⁠～⁠～⁠～

Ominis Gaunt had always been relatively self-conscious.

Maybe it was because he was blind, and could only find his own insecurities through his own touch.

Maybe it was because he had to go through several torturous years of school full of people from all different backgrounds, making it very hard for him not to compare their lives and judge himself - he envied other people's simpler lives.

Maybe it was the whispers that followed him around when he was 11. He never knew what they were about, and he never stuck around to find out. He could only guess, and most of those guesses didn't do much good to his self esteem.

He liked to consider himself modest - which he found was better than calling himself shy.

Shy was when you didn't talk to people and withdrew from conversations, choosing to be in your own company.

(He hated how that described him perfectly.)

Modest was when you covered up, and often didn't take credit for what you had done. And with modest, comes humble, which is often a good thing to be, to say the least.

Yes, Ominis Gaunt was a modest, humble man who just wanted to get on with life, thank you very much.

Now in his early twenties, with a fresh new job and fresh new atmosphere, Ominis wanted to be a bit of a different person.

Maybe more friendly; you could still be modest and humble when you were very friendly.

Maybe he'd be more outgoing; helping out in the community is a very humble thing to do, and definitely not on the shy spectrum at all.

Maybe he'd change his clothing style-

…

Maybe not.

Ominis considered this style the Most Modest Of Them All, as he didn't really show much skin.

At all.

He knew he had large freckles scattered all over his body, including his face; Sebastian had told him as much (actually, he'd gushed over them, calling them "constellations" and comparing Ominis to his Astronomy homework. Thanks Seb, real encouraging.)

He hated them.

Inconveniences, that's what they were. Dark, inconvenient marks scattered in inconvenient places.

He knew he was pale as a ghost, and even in the slightest ounce of sunshine, he'd start to cook like a slab of meat. He'd adopted an umbrella to carry around with him, which doubled as a parasol on warm days (although he wondered if that made him look like a bit of a pansy, and maybe more feminine than he liked.)

Sometimes, when he was alone (which was often), he'd stand in front of a mirror, wand held aloft, trying to make out the outline of himself. Sometimes he'd flicker into view, and he'd notice a loose hair or a ruffled item of clothing. He'd then proceed to fix them, then raise his wand once more.

Mirrors were hard to look at when you were blind. Not much comes out of them, since they only show a mere reflection of something, rather than the thing itself.

Aside from Ominis' dreadful self-esteem regarding his appearance, he was sure there were other good qualities to him (humble).

He was good at his job (he thinks); he worked a rather lousy yet humble desk job at the Ministry, doing odd jobs for the higher ups. He knew they knew of his family's… behaviour, so he could tell why people tended to keep their distance (still kind of hurt though, but we move forward.)

Oh, and one other thing; Ominis Gaunt had a searing, sharp, throbbing, god-awful back ache.

By Merlin was he in pain!

Every movement sent a sharp pain down his spine, making him tense up and hiss, and, on bad days, he'd let out a rather unpleasant sound in Parseltongue (he was ashamed of that.)

Sometimes the pain would be in his shoulder blades, moving to the back of his head, and he'd have to sit for hours, stiff as a board, in fear of moving and making it worse.

What a sad life Ominis Gaunt was living.

And it was exhausting.

～⁠>⁠`⁠)⁠～⁠～⁠～

"Ominis, are you alright?"

Ladies and gentlemen (and the rest), I present the Painful, Doubtful, Sorrowful, Humble and Modest Life of Ominis Gaunt, starring Chronic Back Pain and The Person He Was Hopelessly In Love With (but they didn't know that).

"I'm fine."

He may have said that a bit too stiffly, because he heard a shuffle and knew that his companion (his sweet-smelling, soft-speaking, and - probably - beautiful companion) had turned to look at him, and he practically felt her eyes burning through him.

He flushed. He knew that because he felt that uncomfortable heat tear through his cheeks.

"You're sitting funny." She commented.

"Am I?" He acted oblivious. Probably not wise, but he didn't want the conversation to reach uncharted territory, and he certainly didn't want his friend to worry.

But lo, the world hated Ominis Gaunt, so he suffered just a bit more.

"And your eyebrows are basically in your hairline- are you in pain?" Her voice was laced with concern, and judging by the dip in the sofa next to him, she'd shuffled a bit closer to him, probably to get a better look at him.

"I'm fine-"

"Don't lie." That monotone pinch in her voice told him he should just spit out what was wrong.

"I'm in pain." He confirmed, turning his head away from her general direction, his way of averting his unseeing eyes when he's embarrassed or bashful.

There was a tut of sympathy from her end, and her gentle fingers made contact with his sleeve, just above his bicep.

"Ominis, why didn't you tell me? Where abouts?" Her voice was soft, as if she were talking to a scared child.

Once upon a time, he was just that.

He mumbled a reply, and felt himself pouting, which he quickly tried to conceal, because a grown man pouting was just silly.

"Back…"

"Your back hurts?"

"Yeah," Ominis wrung his hands, as though he was guilty of something. Of what? Telling a friend he's in pain?

"You're tense!" Her voice was one of wonderment, the "I've just discovered something" type of voice, with a hint of sympathy.

Ominis then felt his torso slowly turning; she'd taken hold of his elbows and was gently steering him so his back faced her, and Ominis squeezed his eyes shut, mostly from the slight pain.

He felt his friend run a hand over the back of his shirt, over his shoulder blades and up to his shoulders, but never going past his collar. She did it again; over the shoulder blades, up to the shoulders. And again.

She was thinking, he could tell.

"Do you want me to massage your back?"

Ha, no.

She took note of his brief silence.

"It'll help," she prompted.

Ominis' breath quickened. In order to massage him, he'd have to take off his shirt, and if he took off his shirt, it meant she'd see him, and if she saw him, what in Merlin's name would she think?

"N-no, I wouldn't want to burden you with such bothersome antics-"

"Don't be silly, if it helps you, then we can both rest easy."

Ominis pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. It would help him, and it would probably feel really nice, but there's still the fact that she'll have to see him.

Don't be stupid Gaunt, get over yourself. The rather Aggressive Angel on his shoulder yelled in his ear. Why would she care, she's been through hell and back anyway. One massage won't alter how she thinks about you.

An excellent point, Aggressive Angel.

Ominis tried to get the devil on his other shoulder to speak up in disagreement, but it would seem that the Aggressive Angel had actively pushed him off and killed him.

C'mon, this is your chance to gain back some confidence in yourself.

Ominis sighed.

"Fine," he agreed. But if anything went wrong, he internally promised that he'd kill the Aggressive Angel himself.

"Perfect," his friend said through a smile (he could hear the grin in her voice), "um, do you want me to do it here or somewhere else?"

Oh. Right.

The two-seater sofa wasn't exactly ideal, especially since Ominis was quite tall now, and would probably break his back even more if he attempted to lay down.

Bed it was.

～⁠>⁠`⁠)⁠～⁠～⁠～

As Ominis stood in the doorway to his bedroom, memories flashed before him of the last time he'd invited someone onto his bed.

Of course, back then, it was an entirely different story, and definitely not like these circumstances whatsoever.

He'd met a pretty lady in the local pub; she was hearty and rather busty, and she was looking for company. He'd invited her to his house, where things got heated, they ended up in his room, where he suddenly realised that he did, in fact, hate how he looked, and requested that she lay on her front for him. He was embarrassed; the mere thought of someone seeing him so dishevelled when he couldn't even see himself made him sick with anxiety, but he was too far gone and proceeded from behind. She enjoyed it, and told him as much though the process, but she was apparently too lost in euphoria to notice that Ominis didn't even take his shirt off.

They parted as friends, and a month went by, when Ominis heard that his one night stand had gone off to the Americas to be with her "one true love". He was glad, in a way, that she didn't try to linger around him. His heart belonged to someone else as well.

It seemed they were both a bit lonely.

ANYWAY-

His companion was perched neatly on the edge of his mattress, waiting patiently for him.

Moment of truth.

…

He gripped the bottom of his shirt. Then he raised his arms as if he was going to yank it over his head.

No. Maybe don't do that. There's a lady present. Try to be more graceful.

Right. Of course.

He lowered his arms and started fumbling with his buttons. His fingers suddenly felt numb and stiff, and he tried to calm himself. His palms were slick with sweat and his fingers shook, and then the last button was undone and the front of his torso was out in the open and all got a bit too much for him and he instinctively pulled the fabric of his shirt closed again to preserve his modesty.

He only now noticed how cold the air in the room was. He hoped his nipples weren't like bullets.

He gripped his wand (which he always keeps handy) and raised it slightly, to help him guide where he was going-

And he noticed that after all that, his friend wasn't even on the bed anymore.

The bloody woman had gone to stand by the bloody window instead, completely turned away from him in favour of gazing into the street below

All that malarkey and she wasn't even watching. Wuss.

Shut it.

He cleared his throat and before she'd even fully turned around to face him again, Ominis Gaunt, who tried to be as graceful as he could, practically launched himself forward onto the bed, face down (ow).

His cheeks burned as he heard her let out a bark of a laugh, obviously finding his misery absolutely hilarious.

The bed dipped as she sat down again, and by god was he ready to run for the hills.

Never, ever, had he even considered this (he may have considered this once or twice) - his lady friend, the one he's been ever so slightly infatuated with and nursed a soft spot for since early Year 5 at Hogwarts, about to rub his back to ease the tension.

The irony was that this entire situation was making him tense up even more. If he formed one more knot in his back he might break a rib.

His companion then muttered something, and he heard the swish of a wand.

"Oil," she confirmed before he even asked, "It'll make it easier."

Oh. She'd conjured a bottle of oil to rub into his back. Of course. Why didn't he think of that?

Her gaze was trained in his back now, he knew it.

His breathe quickened again. What was she thinking? What did he look like? Was his back as distasteful as he'd imagined?

"Ominis, relax, or nothing will get done."

"Right, yes, sorry," his voice was muffled by the sheet.

"This might be a bit cold at first but it should warm up," she explained, before placing her hands on his shoulder blades.

Ominis gasped. A bit cold was an understatement. Bloody freezing was a lot truer.

"Sorry, sorry," she mumbled, running her hands up and down his back, then digging her thumbs into the base of his neck.

Ok, that wasn't so bad.

She worked through the knots in his back and shoulders, taking her time and kneeding the sensitive skin in a way that Ominis found rather relaxing.

Every now and then he'd let out a noise, and she would freeze momentarily, before continuing. The noises weren't of pain, more of… comfort (not pleasure. Definitely not pleasure.)

(Something stirred between his legs.)

By the time she was done, Ominis had all but melted into the bed, eyes closed and a small smile gracing his lips. He only just registered that she was tracing the freckles on his back lightly with her finger, humming softly.

Bloody freckles… weren't doing any harm. If anything, his companion seemed perfectly content with just mapping out his back using the moles as guides.

But alas, her touches must end, for Ominis had to move.

He shifted, making her jump slightly, and stretched, not unlike a cat.

Usually stretching would result in the worst pain shooting up his back, but this time he felt so free. No pain, just the beautiful feeling of relaxation.

"Better?" She asked, watching him sit up and drape his long legs over the edge of the bed.

"Better." Ominis nodded, blinking slowly.

Wow, he really was just like a cat.

"Thank you so much for doing that, you have no idea how much that means to me," he carried on, and he'd forgotten all about how his shirt wasn't on, and how his torso looked.

"My pleasure, really," she said, and she rested a hand atop his, "but next time, don't wait so long to ask for help, alright? Some of those knots felt like they'd been there for years."

"Honestly, they probably have," he admitted.

"Ominis! Why didn't you get help sooner?" Her voice wasn't scolding, but there was a disbelief that made Ominis bow his head.

"I… don't really like people seeing me…" he mumbled.

Silence.

"Why ever not?"

"Thank you for your time, my friend, but I should really-"

"You're self-conscious." A tone of realisation there.

The world really hated Ominis Gaunt.

"Maybe," he sighed, ashamed. Ashamed that she had to find out he hated himself. It made him feel selfish.

"But… why?" She asked. She really had to ask? Wasn't it obvious?

"Just… everything, I guess. Since I can't see myself I've always been hyper aware of what I think I look like."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you're one of the best looking fellas around here. I mean, look at you!"

"I can't," was his immediate deadpan response, followed by, "you're joking." Because he found it very hard to believe her.

"I know for a fact I am not joking. Believe me when I say, you've got plenty of people - men and women - who want to 'get into your pants'." She made quotation marks with her hands when she said the last phrase (he thinks - he can hear her sleeves rustling as she raised them), but that didn't matter. Ominis turned pink, ears burning.

"Such vulgar things to say!" He exclaimed, surprised but not that much; he grew up with Sebastian, after all.

"It would seem you're into it, though."

Merlin's arse she noticed. Play it cool. A show of confidence!

…Confidence I don't have.

"I'll have you know that my boner is a result of intense relaxation." He said matter-of-factly (internally he was screaming, crying, and throwing up.)

"Right, and not because you're into whatever that was."

Ominis spluttered out more excuses.

"Ominis, shut up and kiss me."

That shut him right on up.

Her lips collided with his, and he had to swallow the gasp he almost let out. His eyes fluttered closed, and he cupped her cheek in his palm.

This was something he only saw in his teenage daydreams. Himself kissing a beautiful, kind lady on his bed. Bearing in mind that he was usually fully clothed in these dreams; he felt disgusted in himself if he imagined any more.

Hands travelled and tongues intertwined, little noises were made in the back of throats-

She palmed him through his trousers, and he kicked a leg out at the sensation, turning red at the act. She did it again, pressing down against him with the heel of her hand, grinding it forcefully, and Ominis Gaunt, humble and modest, let out the most embarrassing whimper.

Before he even had time to make up an excuse for that one, he was pushed backward by the sheer force of another body barrelling into him, and his lips were suddenly very occupied by hers.

The next kiss was messy. It was teeth and tongue and saliva, and they swallowed each other's moans, and her hands made his way to his hair and ruffled it, and for once he didn't even think about putting it right, he was far too lost in the sensation of being… loved.

She was straddling his thighs now, bearing down on him like he was her prey, and his head was tilted back to accommodate her mouth. Her hair tickled the sides of his face, and although he couldn't see it, he knew she had a pink hue dusted across her cheeks.

She grinded her hips down while he tried to rut up, causing a beautiful and torturous friction between them.

Her hands travelled over his chest, and he wondered if the sweat he was producing was enough to put her off, but then he didn't pay it much mind; her hands were soft apart from a few callouses, and the catch of her nails on his skin was enough to send him into overdrive.

Mouths still glue together, she shimmied back so she rested on his knees, and began undoing the buttons on his trousers.

The moment of truth.

The part of Ominis' brain that was still functioning was screaming at him to stop her, to take hold of her hand and guide it elsewhere, but the more muddled part of his brain (which now closely resembled a scrambled egg) was absolutely craving the attention. They'd made it this far without her drawing back in disgust, why not go all the way?

It seemed that Ominis Gaunt the Humble and Very Modest was finally letting loose.

"Oh, you're so pretty," his companion whispered in his ear, making his mouth snap shut with a clack and sending a shiver right down his spine.

She'd managed to free his length from its containment (his underwear) and gave it an unceremonious squeeze.

Ominis lurched forward, letting out yet another whimper, and by this time he didn't know nor care what facial expression she was wearing; he wanted her to do something about his erection. Now.

His fingers gripped the sheets of his bed so hard they turned white as she slid her hand up and down his length, smearing pre across the tip with her thumb and dragging back the foreskin.

Ominis let out a guttural moan, his arms reaching forward to grip at her hips, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please," he begged, "please."

What he was begging for he didn't know, because the once sensible side of his brain had also turned to goo at this point, and all he could think about was her; her skilled hands pushing and pulling on him, making his hips stutter; her sweet smelling hair which kept brushing over his face; the fact she called him pretty-

That did things to him.

Her hand moved faster, and so did his heart beat. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears as a tight ball of heat settled in his lower stomach.

"Do you want to come?" His companion breathed out, never slowing her ministrations.

Ominis Gaunt the once humble and modest muttered a string of "yes" and "please" while his whole body shook and he nodded his head frantically, and he felt his ruffled hair fall onto his forehead.

He'd forgotten about her other hand, and was very abruptly reminded of it when he felt her squeeze his balls.

His thighs shook and his toes curled at the sheer force of the orgasm, as the tightness in his belly cracked and loosened, and he dragged his companion forward as he hugged her to his chest tightly, letting out the most wanton groan he'd ever mustered, mingled with her name falling from swollen lips and spilling white liquid into her hand.

She stroked him through his high, whispering sweet nothings to him and kissing up his jaw, over his collection of freckles, and stopping just under his eye.

He calmed down, his breathing slowed and he traced the seams of her clothing.

Huh. Maybe that wasn't so bad.

"You're so beautiful."

His head snapped up to her direction, and he blinked in surprise.

"Such a pretty, handsome man." She nuzzled her face into his neck, and he couldn't help running his hands along her back as they hugged. "You should have seen yourself, such a picture. And your hair- you should keep it like that, it suits you. And your freckles," she traced the ones on his cheek with the tip of a finger, then to a spatter of them across his chest, "your beauty marks. So pretty. And your nipples," she went as far as pinching a neglected nipple, and laughed at the way his breath caught in his throat, whispering, "so sensitive."

Ominis chewed his lip, mulling her words over in his head.

She thought he was pretty. And beautiful. And handsome.

He blushed, bashful.

"Aw, don't get all shy now, it's true." She cooed, and he let out a breathy chuckle.

"If you say so-"

"I mean it." She stated firmly, hands on his bare shoulders.

There was a (comfortable) silence. They just kind of… stared at each other (she did most of the staring, Ominis was just existing in her presence.)

"You didn't get to finish." He said quietly.

"No, but that's ok-"

"Let me help you-"

He was shocked by his own boldness, but no going back now. Plus, he really did want to assist her. And feel her. And hear her.

"Well… since you're offering," he could hear the slyness in her voice as she kissed below his ear before shuffling backwards off his lap, "but let me wash my hand first."

As she slinked off to the bathroom, Ominis was left alone with his thoughts once again.

She thinks I'm pretty!! He almost squealed like a teenage girl at the thought, kicking his feet bashfully. He readjusted his trousers and stood up, grabbing his wand to do a quick sweep of the room, as if he expected something to be different.

He turned toward the mirror, and had to do a double take.

His outline was there, clearly visible to him, and showed him just how he looked.

And for once, Ominis Gaunt the Humble and Very Modest felt proud of the way he looked.

#ominis x reader #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #oneshot

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floraphoenix · 1 year

Text

Nightly Rounds (Amit Thakkar x Hufflepuff!Reader)

When Amit got appointed as Head Boy, he was absolutely thrilled. He'd worked so hard, bless him, and he got a fancy title!

But where there's a Head Boy, there's a Head Girl.

And who'd be more fitting than the graceful, intelligent, beautiful Hufflepuff who came crashing into his life in their first year.

He'd be pleased with this fact…

If she wasn't his enemy.

They'd had it out for each other since they met. As nice as she was, she had one hell of a fiery temper, and the amount of snarky remarks he'd received over the years was record breaking.

He'd grown used to her comments, and even gained enough courage to start firing them right back at her.

It never got physical (thank Merlin), but it was mostly sneers and scoffs while passing in corridors, maybe a glare-off from opposite ends of a classroom on occasion.

In summary, they didn’t get on well. And now they were forced to work with each other.

Joy.

….

Amit quite liked doing his nightly rounds of the school. It was silent, apart from the occasional grunt from a portrait, or a crash from the path of destruction Peeves always left. Sometimes it was a bit eerie; sometimes the silence was too loud. But, Amit enjoyed it nonetheless; peace and quiet.

He’d taken up his position outside the library, scanning the corridors of the Faculty Tower, when who should catch his eye but the Head Girl, who was leaning against a bannister and looking rather spiteful. Her pretty mouth was drawn into a bow, a brow raised.

Amit felt his blood pressure rise just a smidge.

“Oh, good,” he breathed, suddenly very tired.

“Same to you.” The girl shot back, kicking off the bannister and striding toward him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m standing watch, as I usually do, you should know that.” Amit answered simply, gritting out the last line.

“Well, you should know that I’ve been stationed here for the week, which means you can kindly leave.” She gestured down the corridor, motioning for him to leave.

Amit decided he wasn’t going to budge.

“I, in fact, did not know this information, which gives me the impression that you’ve just made it up.” He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, watching the Hufflepuff put her hands on her hips.

“Then you’re not as intelligent as you say you are, princess.” She sneered, and Amit rolled his eyes; ‘princess’ had become his nickname after she saw him once in their third year shrieking like a girl while getting chased by an angry flock of Cornish Pixies. She’d hollered and laughed so hard that day she quite literally collapsed to the floor in a fit of giggles, calling him a “damsel in distress”, which only embarrassed Amit further. And thus, the name stuck.

“There was a notice sent out with the rotors this morning,” she continued, ignoring his eye roll, “clearly you’re little Ravenclaw brain didn’t pay attention.”

“If there was a rotor, I would know.” He stated firmly, uncrossing his arms and taking a step forward with clenched fists.

You’d think by now that he’d stop letting her get under his skin, but there was just something so… infuriating about her. She was always there, corridors, classrooms, Great Hall, even the Owlery, he just couldn’t get her out of his head!

Wait.

He couldn’t get rid of her. Yes, that’s what he meant. It’s not like he always thought about her…

The stars had to take up some part of his brain too!

Regardless, he glared down at her as she looked smugly up at him, and he knew she was getting a kick out of seeing him frustrated, but he didn’t look away.

(He couldn’t look away.)

“You seem to overestimate your knowledge, Thakkar,” she wound on, also taking a step forward. They were very much in each other’s personal spaces now but they didn’t seem to care, instead choosing to be quite rude to one another.

“ Please, my knowledge far exceeds yours, and you know it.” He shot back.

Their eyes bored into each other’s, and now it was a competition of will; who will look away first?

“Keep telling yourself that, princess.”

“Oh, will you shut up with that ridiculous name!”

“Make me!”

Now, Amit couldn’t really tell you why he did what he did; maybe it was the close proximity of the pair; perhaps it was pure rage;

Perhaps she really did consume most of his thoughts.

In a fit of… (we’re not sure. Rage? Frustration? Adoration with a touch of madness?)

In a fit of adoration with a touch of madness, Amit grabbed the Hufflepuff Head Girl by the shoulders and quite literally smashed his mouth to hers. She let out a noise similar to “hmph!” before bringing her hands up to grab the sides of his robes and pushing back by standing on her tiptoes.

Their eyes were still open, and they stared at each other as they kissed, and this only made them more furious in their actions; her tongue tickled his bottom lip, making his eyelids flutter, but he granted her entry all the same.

Her hands gripped onto his side tighter, which made him drag his own hands up her shoulders, past her neck, resting them on her jaw, pulling her closer in the process. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and now they were impossibly close, joined at the mouth, licking at each other's tongues.

He couldn’t help it; he gave in; he closed his eyes first.

Now this- this was an awfully intimate thing to be doing with one's mortal enemy. But when you’re enamoured by their beauty and actually quite flattered by all the attention they give you… well, there’s your excuse.

Footsteps echoed through the corridor.

The rate in which the pair separated was quick enough to break the sound barrier. They practically jumped apart, gasping and panting slightly, glancing around for the source of the noise.

Amit failed to notice the Hufflepuff staring alarmedly at his mouth, and was startled when she grabbed his wrist and dragged him under the staircase, pushing him against the wall and out of sight.

“Wait, why am I hiding? I’m Head Boy.” He whispered urgently, and he noticed just how small the crevice was, and just how hard her hand was pressed against his chest; her fingers balled briefly into a fist, clutching the fabric of his robe, before drawing back.

“Well, princess, I hate to inform you that you’re absolutely covered in lipstick, and I do not want anyone getting the wrong idea.” She whispered hurriedly back, before stepping backwards in hopes of looking relatively relaxed and totally not suspicious at all.

Professor Sharp limped up the stairs, catching sight of the Head Girl and bowing his head in greeting.

“Good evening, Professor,” she said cheerfully, watching him as he pulled his way up the next flight of stairs.

“He’s in a good mood,” Amit commented briefly, sarcasm dripping from his tone, before peeling away from the wall and rushing out of the hiding place, and giving another quick scan of the corridors.

Silence.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Thakkar,” the Hufflepuff chuckled, pulling a handkerchief out of her robe and handing it to him. He took it and began wiping his mouth.

“I’m covered in your lipstick, please don’t call me by my last name.” He mumbled, glancing at the hankie which was, indeed, covered in pink smudges.

“What, prefer ‘princess’?” She quipped, taking the white cloth back and holding his chin with her thumb and forefinger, wiping the last bits of makeup away. “I know I do.”

“You would, because you’re insufferable. And honestly, I didn’t know I had it in me either.”

“Then why’d you kiss me?”

“Because you told me to make you shut up. So I did. Didn’t work though…”

“Ha! Of course it didn’t, you’ve known me long enough to know that something as little as that won’t end my behaviour.”

“Then what if I did it again?”

“Ooh, Amit Thakkar, I had no idea you were such a womaniser!”

“I-I’m not! I just…”

“You just?”

“Nevermind.” Amit shook his head, feeling a flush creep up his neck.

“You just?” She repeated, tilting her head with a knowing smile that made his stomach flip. He swallowed, glancing around, eyes coming to rest on the door to the Prefect’s bathroom.

She followed his eyeline, before turning sharply back to him, a smirk plastered across her pretty face. Quick as a flash, she grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the door.

Amit followed like a lost puppy, but paused at the door.

“Wait, we’re supposed to be on the night rounds out there.”

“You are, you were right, I was making it up.” She quipped, batting her eyelashes.

Amit gasped exasperatedly.

“You-”

He was cut off by her dragging him down and kissing him full on the mouth once more, letting the door swing shut behind them.

#hogwarts legacy #amit thakkar #amit thakkar x reader #hufflepuff

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