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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 6 months

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Focus

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 28. Set in my Magic AU. A successful spell of any kind requires concentration, something Hiccup lacks. Unfortunately, when he finds his focus, it’s on the wrong thing entirely.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hiccup, Snotlout, Astrid, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, Viggo

Pairing: Slight Hiccstrid, Slight Vigcup

Words: 1 708

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Oxygen Deprivation, Sweating

Whumpee: Snotlout, Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Honestly love writing for this AU. And glad to add some Snotlout whump to this year's AI-less Whumptober!

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

For as long as he’s been here, Viggo has been a mystery to Hiccup and he figures he always will be. One moment, the man has all the patience in the world for him and seeks to tutor him personally. The next, Hiccup is a stain on his existence. It’s a confusing dynamic that they have, one he doesn’t appear to have with anyone else in this castle.

“Take something and focus your magic for once in your life. Try the spinning top, maybe a child’s toy will finally help you grasp the basics!

Clearly, Viggo has never met an actual child before. But it is the reason why he had to go all the way down into the dungeon- now a place where artifacts and other nick-nacks are stored- to grab a child’s toy that hasn’t seen the light since the 1800s to practice his focus on. Because the key to a successful enchantment is focus, something Hiccup severely lacks. He blames the neurodivergency.

It’s lunchtime, but instead of taking a break, he’s taken the toy with him to the dining hall, where he sits at the table and, in every sense of the word, embarrasses himself in front of his newfound friend group.

“Oh, come on! Work with me here!” Hiccup moans in annoyance as he spins it only to watch it come to a slow stop, dashing whatever little hope he has. The point is to keep it spinning. Spinning, spinning, spinning, and spinning, for however long his concentration lasts. Endless motion.

Snotlout snickers. “This is just painful.”

Astrid kicks him underneath the table, he jumps and spills his soup. Ruffnut protests loudly when some of it splashes onto her pile of sandwiches.

“Maybe you’re not saying it correctly?” Fishlegs gently offers.

“Uh, Mr. Amazing over there? Mr. I’m-Awesome-At-Everything-I-Do? I thought he didn’t need to incant stuff?” Snotlout comes again as he uses his one napkin to clean it up. “No magic outside of class,” Viggo always says, but he’s pretty sure that rule only applies to him and the twins.

“Maybe you lack intent?” Astrid offers.

“I’m not sure what other intent besides “spin you stupid thing!” I can give it. I’m intenting the crap out of it! I’m going to be stuck at the basics forever,” Hiccup deflates.

Snotlout snickers again. “All the power in the world, still sucks.”

“Don’t you have soup to clean up?!” Astrid asks him, arms crossing.

“Uh, and who’s the reason I have soup to clean up?”

“Just go grab more napkins. Maybe it’s your unbelievably loud slurping that keeps distracting him,” she crosses her arms and Snotlout sends her a glare.

But it’s true. Partially. Hiccup can’t focus in the dining hall, but he couldn’t focus in the classroom either. There was this fly that kept buzzing around the room, coming close and then flying out of reach. His senses have always felt like they’re dialed up to 11, that’s just how his brain works, but it’s ten times worse when he’s trying to focus his magic on anything.

Hiccup brings his attention back on the top. Instead of spinning it beforehand, he lets it lie and tries to make it move that way. His fingers press against his temples, elbows on the table, as he glares at it as if it’ll help.

But the table doesn’t remain quiet, Snotlout gives him a glare and snickers before Astrid kicks him.

“Maybe it’s your nagging.”

“Maybe it’s your face!”

“Maybe you should just shut up, Snotlout! As a matter of fact, stop breathing! Just stop breathing in my general direction so I can finally concentrate!” Hiccup snaps at only one arguing half. It’s true that Snotlout’s constant slurping was also throwing him off. He knows he was doing it on purpose, he likes to make things hard for him.

Hiccup focuses back on the top, willing it to spin, but still nothing happens. He doesn’t understand why. He can feel the magic in his veins thrilling, reacting to his command, so why won’t the top just do as he asks?

“Hey-” Astrid comes.

“Astrid, not now,” what if he just glares really hard? Maybe that will help.

“No, seriously, you need to stop.”

“And I need every noise in the world to stop.”

“H-man, look at what you’re doing!” Tuffnut comes, sitting directly across from Snotlout.

“No, look!” Fishlegs yells and Hiccup just barely avoids a soup bowl thrown at his head.

Now standing, he looks at Snotlout to find his hands around his throat in a struggle. He makes no sound as he’s not getting any air. He’s not even choking, he’s simply not breathing.

“Hey, come on, man! Stop!” Ruffnut yells at him, also rising to her feet.

“I-I-I’m- I’m not-”

“Yes, you are!” Astrid states as she stands and grabs Hiccup’s hands. “Come on, you can do this. Just break your hold on him.”

“What do you mean “just break my hold on him?” I have no idea how I’m even doing this!” Comes Hiccup’s panicked reply.

In a frenzy, Snotlout jumps up from his seat and slams a fist on the table. He looks like he’s trying to make his lungs work, but it’s as if they’ve forgotten how to. Others in the dining hall watch them, whispering.

“Come on, Snotlout, breathe. Just breathe,” Fishlegs comes over and throws an arm around him. Ruffnut stands on his other side while Tuffnut kneels in front.

“Just do what we do!” He says as he and his sister breathe in and out in an exaggerated manner.

“None of that will help! The spell needs to be broken!”

Hiccup looks at each of his friends, panic causing his heart to race. He can’t focus, he can’t break anything.

And there Astrid goes, out the door. Saying something about Viggo, she bolts as fast as her athletic legs can carry her.

“Come on, man! You’re the one doing this!” One knows they’ve messed up when even Tuffnut is seriously mad.

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” He yells, hands in his hair.

Snotlout’s face turns a deep blue, he pounds on his own chest, but still his lungs won’t work. In Fishlegs’ arms he goes limp.

“Snotlout, no!” he yells, holding him up. All Hiccup can do is watch on in horror. “Hiccup, just stop!”

Hurried footsteps enter the dining hall. A large hand settles on Hiccup’s forehead from behind, the owner mutters an incantation about sleep, and his consciousness fades. Eyes rolling back, legs going limp, Viggo catches the young man and gently lowers him to the floor.

A dramatic gasp fills the dining hall, Snotlout finally takes his first breathe in what feels like an eternity. Without the strength to stand on his own two feet, he hangs onto Fishlegs sluggishly, barely conscious himself. Relief sweeps through the hall.

“Now would someone be so willing to tell me what in the Hell happened here?” Viggo is beyond angry, as he usually is whenever something of this magnitude goes wrong.

No one answers simply because they don’t know how to. They were eating, there was some banter and arguing, and the next thing they know Hiccup was passively choking the life out of Snotlout.

Viggo breathes through his teeth, realizing that his students don’t quite know how to answer that.

“Fools, all of you,” he mutters before taking off his dark blue vest to fold up and place beneath Hiccup’s head. It shouldn’t take too long for him to wake up.

Fishlegs helps Snotlout sit on a chair as he catches his breath. His lungs are burning, his body is weak, and the most terrible headache he’s ever experienced pounds inside his skull.

“He was… trying to kill me!” He gasps, a hand still on his chest.

“He wasn’t trying to kill you,” Viggo bites back at him. He was nose deep in a book when Astrid came bursting into his room and disturbed his peace.

“Sir, what did happen?” Astrid asks. She figures they’re all dying to know. How could Hiccup just enchant Snotlout like that and how did his hold on him not break? He was panicking just as much as the rest of them, probably even more so.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Viggo asks. “Our dear friend focused his magic on the wrong target. And instead of breaking his hold, his panic strengthened it.”

In a way, it makes sense, or so they suppose. Heavy emotions can make or break a spell.

“Take Snotlout to the infirmary. I’ll wait for him to awaken,” their mentor orders, referring to Hiccup, and they listen. While Fishlegs and Tuffnut take their shaken friend away, Astrid and Ruffnut are urged to follow. Astrid shoots a glance at Hiccup behind her.

In time, the entire dining hall runs empty of guests, leaving just the two of them.

It takes a couple of minutes longer, but Hiccup eventually comes to. He’s understandably sluggish as he awakens from a brief sleep put upon him by magical means.

“Viggo?” He’s confused to see him at first, but as the events preceding his passing out return to him, he sits up in a hurry.

“Snotlout! What-what happened to him? Is he- is he okay?!” He asks his mentor, who raises a hand to silence him.

“Snotlout was taken to the infirmary, but I suspect he’ll make a full recovery. You have nothing to worry about,” he assures him.

Hiccup sighs and pulls his knees up, settling his elbows on them and a hand in his hair. He wouldn’t exactly say that he has nothing to worry about. He almost killed Snotlout! By accident!

Viggo lays a hand on his shoulder and once again he’s showing a side to him that the others don’t get to see much. Or at all.

“You’ll learn to control it,” there’s almost confidence in his statement, but Hiccup isn’t sure how that will ever happen.

“Sure, like I haven’t been trying to learn my entire life,” he mutters as he rises to his feet. Viggo watches him leave, expression unreadable. The dining hall behind him, Hiccup retreats to his room, unsure how he’s going to face anyone ever again.

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writing-intheundercroft · 1 month

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You're Gonna Go Far - O. Gaunt

AO3 Link

Word Count: 10,956

Rating: E (The boys are in a fraternity, Smut, Oral Sex (F receiving), Unprotected Sex, NSFW, MDNI)

Summary: It's the night before graduation, and Ominis Gaunt is moving to New York City next week. There isn't much time left to say all the things that have gone unsaid over the past seven years.

A/N: I'm in the loveliest Ominis server on Discord, and this is dedicated to @grandeoatmilklatte, who inspired frat president Ominis. I hope you enjoy!

You walk up the steps of the splintered porch, taking great care to not slip on the beer a freshman has dropped on the stoop. Graduation ceremonies start in the morning and the spring chill has broken, giving way to a gorgeous May evening. It’s just warm enough that you’ve got the slightest glisten on your collarbone from your fast pace walk, abandoning the bar scene for your best mates’ last frat party ever.

“Very nice,” a voice purrs behind you. “You do always look pretty when you polish up.”

You roll your eyes, swatting at a sweaty Lucan Brattleby as he dodges your aim. “Buzz off, Luc. Have you seen Sebastian and Ominis?”

“Sebastian is somewhere getting his face sucked off by Cressida,” Lucan chuckles, brushing back his curly mop. “And I haven’t seen Ominis all night, except when he yelled at me for trying to get into his room.”

You raise an eyebrow, resting a hand on your hip as you bounce your heel against the porch. You swallow away the lump in your throat, hoping Ominis isn’t off getting slobbered on by a girl. Whatever liquid courage you’ve consumed this evening is already wearing thin, and the sight of Ominis with a stranger might shatter you.

“And why were you trying to get into his room?” You ask, trying to pry.

Lucan shrugs. “Well, the president’s room gets passed down to the next president,” he jerks his thumb back to himself proudly. “And I wanted to measure for my furniture next semester. I think I could fit a wet bar in there.”

You try to stifle your snort, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “I’m going in to find him,” you announce, stepping through the threshold. With the door open, the music bleeds out onto the porch.

It’s so loud, you can feel the bass from the music thumping in your stomach. Garreth is in the kitchen, peddling some of his tonics; Amit and Andrew are in the living room, scolding some younger students for touching the large telescope situated by the windows. You spot Sebastian leaning against the stair railing, a cup of beer in his hand. You have to wade through a sea of bodies just to reach him.

”It’s about time you showed up,” Sebastian teases, swirling his beer. Your freckled friend has his shirt unbuttoned quite low, and you notice several young ladies shooting jealous glances your way. It's laughable that they'd be envious - Sebastian has never been anything more than a pesky brother to you, growing even closer in the years since Anne's passing.

”I thought you would be getting your face sucked off by Cressida,” you mock Lucan’s words, and Sebastian groans.

“I’ve been trying to escape her all night,” he tilts his head, appraising your outfit. Sebastian can be a touch overprotective when you go out on the town, and you wouldn’t put it past him to say something about how cold you must be in your slip dress. “Bar night with the girls go well?”

”Imelda had to take Poppy home before she puked in another planter. Think she has a few of Garreth’s brews before we even hit the town.” you laugh as you talk about your roommates, crossing your arms over your chest. “And if you’re going to criticize my clothes—“

“I think you look beautiful,” Sebastian offers. “Ominis is going to think so too.”

You blush. “Ominis doesn’t care for clothes.”

”Ominis cares for you ,” Sebastian points out, lifting the cup to his lips. “Have you seen him yet?”

You shake your head. “I was going to check his room, but didn’t want to stop him if he was…er, busy .” you wave your hands erratically, hoping Sebastian would get the gist of your implication.

Sebastian snorts, grinning over the edge of the plastic cup. “Definitely not. Tell you what, head up to his room—I’ll send him up when I see him.”

You swat at him, but head up the stairs to the third floor anyways. Passing by throngs of students enjoying the last weekend of term, you push your way to the door neatly labeled O. Gaunt, President.

The door seems to know you’re one of Ominis’s welcomed guests, so it unlocks itself for you. Ominis has always been nifty at protective spells, his door clearly charmed to only let in select visitors. And much to your relief, the room is empty.

You walk around the room, the door left ajar behind you. Ominis is a simple man, not keeping much more in his room other than a bed, desk, and the textbooks stacked neatly on his dresser. The suit he’s been planning to wear to graduation is draped across the back of his armchair, but that’s not what catches your eye. What calls your attention the most are the two graduation gowns hanging in the closet–from afar they look identical, but you know better than anyone the implication behind both.

“I thought you were out for girls night.”

“I couldn’t miss your last party ever, could I?”

You hear Ominis’s familiar breezy laugh. “I’d much rather be at a bar myself right now. It’s an absolute madhouse downstairs. I've been trying to keep it civilized.”

You don’t turn around; instead, you remain standing in Ominis’s closet, dragging a finger over the thick robe, trimmed with black and green velvet. Ominis had originally planned to wear the same plain polyester school-issued robe as Sebastian, but a large box arrived on the front porch of the house earlier in the week. You, Sebastian, and Garreth lingered in the living room as Ominis carefully unwrapped the parchment paper, revealing a box with a gilded Gladrags logo. Inside was the luxurious robe, accompanied by a satin stole. It had the Gaunt family crest embroidered on the chest, the family motto dancing around his neck in metallic silver thread.

Ex auro purissimo sanguinis. The purest of blood.

It was the first he’d heard from his family in almost six months–the note from Marvolo had stated if Ominis was going to represent the family in an official capacity, he needed to dress the part. Ominis immediately set the offending notecard on fire, the fancy box quickly thrown out their window and into the dumpster below. It was only after you’d gotten back to your flat that Sebastian texted; the box was empty in the trash can, but both the fancy robe and stole were hanging in Ominis’s closet.

“Which one will you wear?” You ask, turning your gaze over your shoulder.

Ominis smiles, pushing a stray strand of blonde hair from his forehead. Your devastatingly handsome best friend leans against the doorway, a red cup resting in his hand. Ominis has never been one to dress down–his version of a party outfit is a pair of neat, chino pants, an ironed button down layered over a tee shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters. He fiddles with the handle of his wand in the other, the tip glowing a soft hazy red as he made sense of your placement in the bedroom.

“I think you know,” Ominis muses, swiftly moving from the doorway to his bed. “Wasn’t nearly as difficult of a decision to make as I thought. The boys are my family now. Have been for a while.”

He sits atop the rickety full-sized bed, the springs of his mattress creaking beneath his weight. You nearly laugh; Ominis is so tall, he looks comical perched on the misshapen bedframe. He’s never been good at transfiguration, but he’s too stubborn to let anyone else help him with his furniture. Despite the odd furnishings, the rest of Ominis’s bedroom is neat and tidy. His striped sheets are pristine, the duvet folded at the edge of the bed. It’s a far cry from Sebastian’s room, which is littered with papers and broken quills, or the room that Andrew and Garreth share at the end of the hall. The two have nearly come to blows several times in the last semester over who would take the trash out.

“You still haven’t packed,” you hum, moving away from the closet and back over to his desk. He hasn’t returned his books to the library yet, his magical ethics and muggle studies textbooks are still cracked open from finals.

“I’ll get around to it,” Ominis shrugs.

“Lucan’s been bothering me about you packing,” you perch yourself on his desk chair. “Something about him wanting to get in and measure, so he can plan his furniture layout. Said he wants to put a bar in the room.”

Ominis rolls his milky blue eyes, lifting the red cup to his lips. “Lucan isn’t president yet,” he reminds you. “I’m not sure when I’ll fully move out of the house. And he cannot build a wet bar in the bedroom, that’s unsanitary.”

You snort, spinning around slowly in the chair. “It’s nearly two o’clock. You’ll have bags under those pretty eyes of yours if you don’t get to bed soon. Should I kick everyone out?”

Ominis laughs, setting the cup on the floor as he leans back in bed. “Let them have their fun,” he says fondly. “Sebastian needs one last party before he starts his rotations at St. Mungo’s. Besides, I bet Garreth is making a fortune off his potions tonight. Might as well clear out his entire stock on graduation parties. ”

You smile faintly as the music from downstairs bleeds up into the bedroom. As far as fraternity houses go, there are certainly more posh ones on campus. Ominis had been a legacy of the richest fraternity at school, one mostly of fellow purebloods and former Slytherins. They’d spent the whole of first term trying to recruit him, baiting him with lavish dinners, free entrance to the clubs, and all the illicit beverages and substances one might desire. But that wasn’t Ominis–unknowingly, they drove him even further into the opposite direction. You can still remember bid day, and the shock on everyone’s faces when Ominis turned down their bid to join a humble off campus house with Sebastian. His family had been furious, specifically Marvolo–you can still remember the shouting match the brothers had gotten into, Marvolo slamming the dorm room shut after tearing Ominis to shreds.

Whilst most of the student body had expected Ominis to fade into obscurity after his controversial choice, quite the opposite happened. Ominis truly flourished without the influence of his family, instead patching together a group of unexpected brothers. He surprised everyone when he became president his second year of uni, bringing some order to the rowdy gang of brothers with his natural born leadership skills. What felt like a mishmash of random Hogwarts alumni suddenly became a little family, held together with Ominis as the glue.

All in all, the shy, skinny Slytherin you once knew has really come into his own.

“Knut for your thoughts?” Ominis asks, breaking you out of your reverie.

“Nothing,” you shrug, fixing the strap of your dress as you spin around once more. “It’s just weird, that’s all.”

“What’s weird?” Ominis asks softly, playing with his wand. The tip has stopped glowing; he’s comfortable enough around you to not need his guide.

“That tomorrow, you graduate.” you utter. “And then, you’re gone.”

“Ah,” Ominis bites his bottom lip. “ That .”

It’s a subject the two of you have been avoiding for a while. Ominis had spent the last few summers interning for the Wizengamot, fully expecting to work for them after graduating with his law degree. Again, to everyone’s shock, Ominis had announced his intentions to apply for a position in the foreign office, working for MACUSA. You can still recall the doubt on Ominis’s face, brows furrowed as you and Sebastian helped him fill out his application before the deadline. It had taken nearly an entire night, Sebastian snoring in an armchair while you sent the application off with an owl in the dark sky.

“We don’t even know if I’ll get it,” Ominis had said.

“You’re going to get it,” you assured him. There was never a doubt in your mind.

Ominis received news of his placement with MACUSA at the end of fall term. He was offered his first choice, a position in the foreign relations office, his first day of work being June 1st. The celebration had lasted an entire week, until Garreth finally ran out of fizzing whizzbeer. The night was especially memorable, considering Ominis had also broken up with Nerida in the middle of the party. He was unphased by both her screams and the beer that had flown in his face, Andrew and Garreth having to drag her out of the house. When asked about it the next morning, he’d merely shrugged it off. They hadn’t been dating longer than a month , Ominis pointed out. Besides, he would be off to America soon enough. Best to leave without baggage.

That thought sank in your stomach like a hot ball of lead.

“We really should start packing,” you remind him. “Unless you plan on arriving in New York with just a suitcase.”

“Maybe I’m thinking of not going,” Ominis mumbles. He leans back on the bed, unseeing eyes blinking up at the ceiling as he fumbles with his hand. “I know it looks bad on my part to decline a job this late, but–”

“Excuse me,” You gasp. “No buts, Ominis Gaunt. You’re going to New York.”

“But what if they need me?” Ominis blurts. “Sebastian will be in London on his own, and you know he hates being alone now that Anne is gone. And Lucan is still a little shit, he may need more experience before he’s ready to be president. I worry he’ll bring his little dueling betting ring into the house, and I won’t stand to see the boys gambling their lives away.”

“Ominis,” you warn him. “You’re going.”

“And what about you?” Ominis asks softly. “You still have a year left here, I hate the thought of you being here by yourself.”

You pull yourself closer to the bed, the wheels of his desk chair squeaking on the floor. “I’m going to be okay, Ominis.” You promise him. “You know, if you’re this anxious about it, we should probably get you a better cell phone. I know how you feel about those muggle devices, but Sebastian and I really do find them useful. Not that owls aren’t efficient, but a transatlantic journey would take them quite a bit–”

Ominis’s hand is on yours, the sensation knocking the wind of your chest.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “It’s me I’m worried about.”

You stare at him, thankful he can’t see your gaze.

Ominis has been your best friend for years now. You can still remember him yelling at you the first time you left the Undercroft, his ire quickly fading away as soon as Sebastian forced the two of you into close proximity. You’d shared more in common than you thought–a love for pranks, warm naps in the hallways, and an oddly similar affinity for banoffee pie. It wasn’t long before the three of you had become a package deal, hardly ever seen without the others. It only made sense the three of you would go off to uni together after Hogwarts, you becoming somewhat of a house mother to Ominis, Sebastian, and the rest of the boys.

With that, you’d also spent the last four years of university watching Ominis date other girls. There had never been anyone too serious, most of them being old acquaintances from Hogwarts, or pretty girls who’d stumbled into their parties. They usually only lasted for weeks at a time, Ominis claiming he was far too busy taking care of his own brothers to handle a girlfriend as well. Usually in the end, the ladies would come sobbing at your doorstep, all wondering why they couldn’t get Ominis Gaunt to commit.

At the same time, you’d had your fair share of fun and trouble at university–bad boyfriends, a few failed classes, all distracting you from your independent study on ancient magic. Enough so, you needed an extra two semesters under your belt to catch up on your dissertation.

“Are you scared?” you ask, voice soft.

“Maybe,” Ominis admits, and it’s the first time in a very long time you’ve heard him express doubts. “The idea of being alone in New York is scary. I’ve had you and Sebastian by my side for the last seven years, and I won’t know anyone.”

“You’re going to be great, Om.” you remind him. “You’re going to make a name for yourself in New York. What would make you think otherwise?”

Ominis is chewing on his lower lip, thumb running over the back of your hand. “Marvolo called the this morning,” he admits, pointing to the little brick of a phone you and Sebastian had bullied him into buying. “It wasn’t good.”

“Oh, Om.” You sigh, pulling yourself closer. From this distance, you can smell the cool musk of his cologne, one of the little luxuries he maintains for himself. “What happened?”

Ominis hangs his head low, shaking out his dirty blond hair. He normally has it gelled back, tidily done, but it seems a bit messy and disheveled. Out of character for your best mate.

“Said I was an embarrassment to the family,” Ominis mumbles. “That I should’ve taken the opportunity to work at Mulciber’s firm, and that Mother and Father are astounded I’d work for the government, let alone the Americans .” he says dramatically.

“Your brother is an arse as usual,” you say defiantly. “And he has no idea how hard you’ve worked for this. Ominis, you’re the greatest treasure your family has ever lost, and I look forward to watching you prove them wrong.”

Ominis offers a small smile. “See? What am I going to do without you as a voice of reason?”

Affection is nothing new for you. The minute Sebastian and Ominis began bringing you around their brothers, it was made blatantly obvious that you were off limits. Sebastian had threatened everyone, reminding them that you were practically their sister, and anyone who tried to make a pass at you would be dealt with swiftly. The first time one of the older boys had tried to kiss you, Ominis challenged him to a duel on the spot. Within seconds, Ominis’s opponent was arse down on the floor, your best friend wrapping an arm around your shoulder to see if you were okay.

Nights spent in the library, sitting shoulder to shoulder as you studied. Movie nights at the house, your legs tangled on the couch while Sebastian complained about sitting on the floor. The two of you dancing around the kitchen, cooking up dinner while Lucan and Garreth played exploding snap at the table. You can feel the thick lump forming in your throat as you try to imagine the next year without him.

“Remember what I said,” you swallow away your sadness. “If you want to go far–”

“You’ve got to go far.” Ominis repeats. “I know, you’re the one who told me to apply.”

You place your hand on his cheek, which is still rosy from the beer he’d been drinking. “You’re going to go to New York, Ominis. And if you want to come home, we’ll be here. Sebastian and me, we’ll be here.”

Ominis holds your hand to his cheek, blinking up at you through his thick lashes. Something about the moment is far too intimate–you know you should leave, go back to the party downstairs. There’s music still playing in the distance, your friends are still dancing, yet you’re here, alone with Ominis in his room.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ominis asks.

“Ask away,” you whisper.

You can see the way he moves his hand, dropping his wand onto the nightstand next to his bed. His right hand is still on top of yours, keeping it glued to his warm cheek. The other hand hooks behind your knee, fingers dancing over the soft skin. He’s taller than you, and his knees slot between yours, legs knocking into each other.

“Have you ever–” he clears his throat, eyes fluttering as he tries to verbalize his thoughts. “Have you ever thought about us?”

“What about us?” You ask dumbly.

To your despair, Ominis pulls away. He hastily tugs his hands from your body, pushing the desk chair to put distance between the two of you. It’s faster than you could’ve imagined; your brain is still processing his question while he’s already got his wand in hand, hastily making a way towards the door.

“Ominis, stop!” You demand.

“It’s dumb,” He ignores your words, wand lit red as he stomps across the room. “It was just a thought–”

“Ominis,” you repeat, standing up.

“We should go back out to the party–”

“I have,” you choke out. “I have thought about us.”

Ominis has his head pressed against the cheap pine door. One hand is on the door knob, the other fondling his wand. You can sense his trepidation as he slowly stows his wand in his back pocket, turning to face you once more.

“You have?” he croaks.

“I have,” you parrot back the words to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ominis demands.

“Because,” you’re shaking now. “Because if I told you, you wouldn’t have applied. And we’re best friends, Ominis, who knows what we’d be getting ourselves into.” the words tumble out of your mouth.

The idea of life with Ominis had never crossed your mind–not until Poppy had proposed it earlier in the school year, pointing out how he doted on you. The first to offer you a drink, always free to walk you home at the end of the night. If you were going through a breakup, Ominis would drop everything to be at your doorstep, a bottle of wine and takeaway in hand. He’s sat on your couch listening you rant about horrible dates at least a hundred times now.

He’s perfect for you, Poppy had said.

But he’s my best friend, you’d argued back.

It was only after that conversation that you’d began to see Ominis differently. The way his eyelashes fluttered when you brushed hair out of his face, or the way a warm blush would creep on his cheeks whenever your skin touched his. On more than one occasion you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek whenever his shirt roved above his waist. Worst of all, you couldn’t help the bile that would rise in your throat whenever you saw him chatting with another girl, the acrid taste coating your tongue.

Ominis is perfect, every inch of him being boyfriend material. There’s no mistaking that. Your fear lies in the fact that Ominis is your closest confidant, one of your best friends. While painful, it almost seems easier to hang in the balance of not getting to love him rather than losing him.

“What would we do if we realized we were no good for each other?” you blurt. “You’re my best friend, Om. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“Bear what?” Ominis muses.

Oh, it’s cruel the way he looks so handsome. His lips are curved in somehow both a smile and a grimace, dancing around the inevitable question.

“Don’t make me say it,” you feel weak already.

“Please,” Ominis asks, voice teetering on the edge of politeness and desire. “Say it, please.”

“I wouldn’t be able to bear it if we didn’t work out,” you confess. “Because it’s you, Ominis. I love you.”

You’ve told each other you love one another plenty. The first was at the end of fifth year, when the three of you were departing for separate summer holidays. Again, when you graduated and you cried about how much you were going to miss Hogwarts. Both of you with Sebastian, at Anne’s funeral the summer after freshman year. Throughout all of university, through texts, phone calls, kisses on the cheek before you leave the bar at the end of the night.

Hiya, love you. Love you, get home safe. You’re annoying, but love you.

This time, it’s different. It’s no longer a statement, it’s a confession.

“You love me.” Ominis says slowly.

“Ah, fuck.” you swear, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “This is so not how I thought tonight would go.”

“If you love me,” Ominis asks, voice shaky. “Why did you tell me to apply for the MACUSA job?”

“Because it’s what you want,” you whisper. “And you’re going to be so, so good at it, Ominis. It’s a fresh start where no one will care who your family is, and that’s what you need.”

“Even if it means I’m going to live far away?” he asks, cheeks reddening.

Your fingers curl into your palms, nails pricking skin. “You always talked about getting away from your family. It sounded like the best option for you–you’d get to do something you truly love, something you’re good at. You’re going to help people, and you’re going to be more than a Gaunt. It’s the best thing for you, Ominis.”

“But what if I wanted you?” Ominis asks, voice strained. “What if I wanted to stay?”

“I wouldn’t want that.” You admit. “If you’re going to stay, it has to be for more than me. Not that I think you’d stay for me, specifically–I mean, I’m sure Sebastian would love for you to stay home too, and Garreth would miss you–”

Ominis pauses for a moment, his mouth opening and snapping shut as he thinks. Part of you is curious at what he might say, the other is so embarrassed you’re ready to chuck yourself out the window of his third floor bedroom. You might land in the rose bushes, which will undoubtedly hurt, but a broken bone will hurt certainly less than rejection from your best friend.

“Say something, for the love of Merlin–”

He doesn’t.

Instead, Ominis launches himself off the door, closing the distance between you in four quick strides. The desk chair is practically thrown out of the way, tipping onto its side as Ominis slinks a hand around your waist. You can feel his breath on your cheek, head tipped against yours as he presses your back against his misshapen desk.

“Ominis!” you shriek, watching him swipe everything off his desk and onto the floor. His heavy books clatter against the hardwood floor, landing with a loud thud. He wastes no time lifting you onto his desk, tugging your legs closer to the edge as he slots himself between them.

“Tell me,” Ominis pants, his forehead pressed against yours. “Tell me you’ve thought about this before.”

You groan as his mouth descends upon yours. Your hands are tangled in his thick hair, his fingertips pressing into your waist as he kisses you with a bruising force.

“I have,” you moan into his mouth.

Ominis moans in return; it’s a sound you’ve been trying to imagine for the last six months, and it sounds so much better in real life. Your hands slip under the edge of his well worn t-shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath. Ominis has always been long and lithe, and his toned muscle feels just as good as you’ve thought it would. Feeling your nails scratching his skin, Ominis pulls away to mark kisses up and down your throat.

You surge forward, hips trying to close the little distance between your center and Ominis’s body. You can feel his clothed erection throbbing against your thigh, his head tilted back up to kiss your lips. A large palm settles on your breast, tentatively swiping over a clothed nipple. At your gasp, Ominis pauses; he leans his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as you both register the current state of events.

“That was our first kiss,” Ominis groans. “And I acted like a complete boor.”

You snort. “Took you about two minutes before you had your tongue in my mouth and a hand on my chest. Not one for subtlety, are you?”

Ominis snorts too, leaning his forehead against your shoulder as he rests his hands on the desk behind you. “To be fair, I’ve been thinking about your breasts for the last six years. Didn’t want to waste any precious time I have left with them.”

It’s funny and romantic, and also heartbreaking. If you think about Ominis leaving, you may burst into tears.

“Hey,” Ominis whispers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill the mood–”

You press your mouth against his; he’s unprepared, so your teeth gnash together. Ominis quickly adjusts, letting you dominate the kiss.

“Let’s just focus on right now,” you plead. “We can talk about New York after—but not now.”

Ominis pulls away slightly, a small smile growing on his lips. He’s blinking rapidly, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“What?” you demand, running a hand through your hair.

“Just happy that it’s us, finally.” Ominis admits. “You and me.”

His little smile is everything, you think. And while you love the sweet expression, you want to see the faces Ominis makes under more amorous circumstances.

“Ominis,” you coo gently, taking his hand and placing it on your chest. He’s fully red in the face, mouth agape as you guide him at palming your breast. He gets the message, taking control as your hands rest on his shoulders.

“I’ve never told you, but I love it when you wear these dresses,” Ominis muses, his free hand trailing up your thigh. “They’re soft, just like you.”

Your breath catches as his hand snakes upwards, squeezing your bottom. The edge of your short dress is rucked up to your waist as Ominis feels the lace, hovering dangerously close to your center. It’s so intimate, a lengthy departure from your normally buttoned up, proper friend who hates kisses on the cheek. Your head tilts back, a moan on the tip of your tongue as the hand once squeezing your behind starts tracing the edge of your thong.

“No fair,” you wheeze, tugging on his shirtsleeves. “If I’m arse out, you’ve got to take some clothes off too.”

Ominis lets out a loud laugh as he removes his hands from you, letting the button down fall to the floor. Your hands pull at his t-shirt, helping him take it off. The second the letters fall on the floor, your hands fly up to his chest, roving over the pale planes.

“You’re vulgar, too.” Ominis chuckles. “One of the many things I admire about you.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, lacing your fingers with his. Your nose bumps into his chin, helping him make sense of your position. He tilts his face down, hot breath fanning your cheeks. “Soft and vulgar, two very different words you’re using to describe me.”

“At first it irked me,” Ominis confesses. “When we first met. But after I got to know you, I realized you’re just loud because you’re having fun. And life didn’t need to be so stuffy.”

“That’s sweet,” you admit.

“You make everything better,” Ominis says, lips hovering closer towards yours again. “You always have.”

“I’d say the same about you.” you whisper, lips brushing against his in a chaste kiss.

Ominis has no more restraint left in him. He surges forward, hands cradling your cheeks as he kisses you. You’ve never seen him kiss anyone like this before–Ominis is always polite and tender with his conquests. This Ominis is pure hunger, making up for lost time.

You drag your nails up and down his back as he kisses you breathless, only stopping when he pulls away.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks, voice tinged with desperation. “Because there’s no going back.”

There’s no mistaking what this is–you’re crossing the boundary with your best friend, making love while you still have time to do so. If it were any other occasion, you might blame the alcohol going to your head, but no decision has ever felt more sane.

It’s Ominis.

“Yes. I want this,” you utter, and that’s that.

Ominis tugs you away from the desk, fingers slipping under the thin straps of your dress to pull it down. The slinky fabric pools at your ankles while his hands rove over your body. His fingertips dragging over every curve, while you work the buttons of his pants. He spins you quickly, pushing you onto his rickety bed as he steps out of his pants.

“I hate your bed,” you groan, bouncing on the springy mattress. “You should’ve let me help you with the spells.”

Ominis lets out a breathy laugh as he hops towards you, kicking away a pant leg. “It’s fine . I don’t understand why you’re complaining, it’s a bed.”

It’s your turn to snort, chuckling as Ominis feels around the bedspread for you. You tuck your knees up to your chin, darting away from his touch. You can tell just how frustrated he is, blonde hair falling in his eyes, patting around the bed.

“I want to feel you,” he complains, sinking into the mattress across from you. “I want to take my time with you tonight.”

“Then feel away,” you breathe, letting him catch hold of your ankle.

Ominis licks his lips, eyes fluttering as he presses a searing hot kiss to your ankle. The kisses start trailing up your leg, stopping intentionally every few seconds. His teeth graze the inside of your knee, and the whimper that comes out of your mouth is downright embarrassing.

“Now I want to taste you,” Ominis murmurs, hooking your legs over his shoulder. Before you can respond, his teeth are dragging against the flimsy fabric of your thong. One hand pulls it aside, the other bracing your hip. Without warning, the blond takes a long, deliberate lick. With your taste on his tongue, Ominis loses his self control and tears away the scrap of fabric, tugging it off your body and tossing it.

“Ominis!” You shriek, head tilting back to his pillows.

You can tell he’s smiling from the way his cheeks lift, eyes squeezing shut as he presses a kiss to your clit. His pace is maddening, lazily lapping as he pins your hips down. Ominis shakes his head, his tongue finally circling against your clit again once you’ve whined enough.

“You taste so good,” he groans.

“Just like you’ve imagined?” You utter between the sharp gasps he’s eliciting from you.

Ominis doesn’t respond, instead sucking hard on your clit to express his answer. He’s clearly turned on by your gasps and the sound of your wet cunt, the auditory stimulation driving him to grind his hips against the squeaking mattress. At this rate, his fingertips may leave bruises in the crease of your thighs. Never did you ever imagine Ominis Gaunt’s head between your legs, but now you really can’t imagine going the rest of your life without his mouth on you.

“Ominis, please,” you strain, reaching out to grasp his hair. The sharp tug has him growling against your skin, still relentless in his slow, thoughtful method. His tongue darts into your cunt at an excruciating tempo.

“I told you,” he hums, sinking teeth in your thigh as he gives you a momentary reprieve. “I’m going to take my time with you. And if that means I’m here, all night–then so be it.”

In your daze, you hardly notice the fact that he’s now slipped his fingers inside of you, slowly pumping them as he kisses your clit again. With every stroke you feel the band tightening in your stomach, the overwhelming urge to snap coming any moment. You paw at his head, anything to express how close you are, but he relents with his pace. When his fingers curl inside of you, you slam your head back against the pillows again, a ragged cry tumbling off your lips as you come.

Ominis pulls away, your slick glistening his chin as he gives you a smug smile. Your heart is hammering in your chest at the sight of him, cheeks red and panting from giving you the most glorious head you’ve ever received to date.

“Did I do well?” He asks, almost a bit shy.

You try to get up, but your quivering legs fail you. “You’ve rendered me boneless,” you laugh, pressing a hand against your chest.

Ominis pulls himself up over you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You can still taste yourself on his mouth, flooding your head with filthy ideas.

“Your turn,” You murmur, mustering the strength to pull yourself up. You push Ominis over, and he falls against the bed. Somehow, your bodies know just how to move around each other–there is no awkward fumbling. When you’ve known someone for years, spent half your school years cuddled up together in naps, you just know how to maneuver around one another.

Ominis sits against the headboard, the pillows propped behind his back. When he feels your hands touch the waistband of his boxers, he instinctively lifts his hips, letting you drag them down his legs. His aching length springs free, slapping against his stomach as you crawl towards his lap.

“How does this feel?” You ask, adjusting your legs to straddle him. You know he can feel how wet you are, dripping against his cock. While your hands rest against his shoulders, Ominis’s arms wrap against your waist, all but pulling you down to grind against him. Waiting for his answer, your eyes scan every inch of his face to commit each beauty mark to memory.

Ominis presses a quick kiss to your nose, eyelashes fluttering in the way you love. “You feel so warm.” He groans, his cock twitching against you. The feeling of him against you sparks a familiar ache between your legs. His jaw hardens when you slip your hand between your bodies, gripping him to guide his blunt head to your center.

“I love you,” Ominis chokes out as you sink onto his length. His hands fly from your waist, now roving all over your body. He’s consuming you, touching every single surface he can manage. You both gasp as you bottom out, his head tipping back against the headboard with a thud.

“So good for me,” Ominis garbles out in broken syllables. “You’re...you feel so...”

You surge forward, lips pressed against his. His kisses melt against your mouth as he tries to rock upwards into you.

“We could’ve been doing this for ages,” Ominis complains, his nimble fingers tangling in your hair.

“Instead we’ve been just friends,” you chuckle, rolling your hips. Your hands are gripping the headboard behind him, forehead pressed against his as you grind against each other.

“Idiots,” Ominis mutters, catching your lower lip with his teeth. “We’re idiots.”

You shift your feet underneath you, bouncing up and down on his length. Ominis’s breath hitches against your breasts, his hands shifting down to your waist. The feeling of his thumbs roving over your hip bones is enough to drive you harder, and you realize he’s admiring every single dimple, every curve. He could go faster, fuck up into you if he really wanted to, but Ominis stays true to his word. He’s taking his time to savor you, to commit your body to memory while he has you in his arms.

“Enjoying yourself?” You ask breathlessly, as Ominis’s hand trails up and down your spine for the umpteenth time.

He grins, baring his teeth as he surges forward, pushing you off and onto your back on the bed. You yelp as he slithers over you, hovering just inches from your face as he presses back into your warmth.

“Immensely,” Ominis whispers, kissing you as he starts rocking into you. Without thought, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in as tightly as you can. When he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours, you flatten your hands against his cheeks. You fit against each other like puzzle pieces; it’s silly to have been so worried, you realize. Slotted against each other, chasing one another to your mutual climax, you know only Ominis could’ve ever made sense.

“I love you,” you blurt as Ominis digs his face into your neck.

“I love you too,” Ominis mumbles into your neck. “I think I always have.”

“You have?” You squeak, thoughts punctuated by a moan as he snaps his hips at just the right angle.

“It’s you,” Ominis admits. “Of course I love you. I– oh shit –I’ve always had feelings for you,” he pants. “God, at least since we were sixteen.”

Ominis’s confessions, punctuated by an elusive curse word, melt your heart. You shift your hips upwards, meeting him with every thrust. The wet slapping of his skin against yours, the slamming of the headboard, coupled with Ominis’s babbling and your breathy moans echo off the walls. You hadn’t bothered with a silencing spell, not knowing that this is where the night would take you. It’s likely everyone in the house knows what’s going on between the two of you, and that almost turns you on more. After all these years, Ominis is yours, claimed by your loud coupling.

“I’ve dreamt of touching you here for years,” Ominis confesses between open mouth kisses. “Always thinking about how soft you must feel here,” his lips close around your nipple, tongue flicking against the surface. It draws a shriek out of you, which has him grinning. “Just as I thought.”

Just the confirmation that Ominis has thought about you naked in bed just like you have stokes the fire within you, threatening to burst. He feels too good inside of you; while you’d take the sweet torture of being edged all night just to keep him close, your body is teetering close to the edge.

“Come for me,” Ominis murmurs in your ear. “I want to feel you come undone.”

“I can’t,” you utter. “I don’t–I don’t want this to be over,” you choke out, clutching his shoulders.

The sex, this night, this season of your life, together. You’re not quite sure which one your sex addled brain is referring to.

Ominis snakes up a large hand, cradling your cheek with his palm. His thumb brushes over your swollen lips as little gasps escape your lips.

“We have tonight, all night.” Ominis whispers, each syllable met with a roll of his hips. “You don’t think it’ll be just once, do you?”

“Ominis,” you garble out, his thumb dipping into your warm mouth. You’re not sure if you’re scolding his vulgar language, or warning him of the impending release.

“Come with me,” Ominis pleads.

An urge to finish what you’ve started together, or perhaps a plea to join him across the sea. Either way, the three words have you coming, Ominis choking out a moan as his hips stutter against yours. He shudders as he comes inside of you, not stopping his thrusts until he’s trembling, falling at your side.

The two of you are silent for what feels like ages, just the ticking of his bedside clock and the soft hum of music from the party downstairs filling the background. As you stare at the ceiling, you feel his warm hand entangling his fingers with yours, and you’re both quiet for another few minutes as you collect your thoughts.

“I meant what I said,” Ominis breaks the silence.

“Which one?” you ask, tilting your head to look at him. He’s still flat on his back, his free hand resting on his chest as his head tilts towards the sound of your voice. His gorgeous blue eyes crease at the corners as he smiles.

“All of it,” Ominis muses. “That I love you, that I’ve always loved you. That I thought you didn’t love me, because you were encouraging me to go, to take the MACUSA job. But turns out, it’s just because you know me better than anyone. You know what I need to do.”

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Ominis turns to you, his hands tracing up and down your naked torso. “I never thought we’d get to do this,” he confesses. “And even if it took us until the last night of school, I’m glad we did.”

You press a fervent kiss to his lips, melting against him. You only pull away when he laughs, blond hair shaking as he falls back against the bed.

“We are actual idiots,” Ominis says sheepishly. “Our very first time should’ve been more romantic.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “There’s something incredibly romantic about a last chance confession.”

“I wish I’d told you sooner,” Ominis says, a pained expression painted on his face. “We could’ve had so much more time–”

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him. He quirks his brow, questioning your actions.

“We have the rest of tonight,” you remind him, rolling onto your stomach. You trace your hand against his cheek, your fingers dancing against his lips. He opens his mouth, indulgently sucking on your fingers as they dip inside. “Besides, I think I have to reciprocate the mind blowing head.” you joke, your now wet hand trailing back down to his length.

Ominis is hard again in seconds.

The music ended hours ago, and the house is calm. You wouldn’t know if anything was going on outside of Ominis’s door anyways; after your second round, Ominis had the good sense to cast a silencing charm on the room.

Ominis slips out of you after fucking you on your side, his slow thrusts driving you to the brink of insanity. Both of you are thoroughly spent; he knows that, reaching for his wand to summon a cloth. He's attentive and gentle as he cleans you, murmuring praise of how well you've taken him and how incredible you feel. Once the two of you are semi-decent, he gathers a fresh tee shirt for you to slip over your head. It’s well worn, letters stitched into the chest, and it smells like his cologne. You hold the collar to your nose; it’s very likely this shirt will be coming home with you.

Ominis tucks you into his arms as he pulls the duvet over your bodies, his warm breath tickling your ears as his breathing slows.

“I’m not sure how you’re going to walk across the graduation stage,” you joke, stifling a yawn.

“Will probably need Andrew to throw me across the stage at this point,” Ominis says. His voice sounds thick with sleep, and you know he yearns to shut his eyes. You’ve known him for so long, watched him nap in the hallways enough to recognize the tell-tale signs of Ominis Gaunt’s sleeping habits.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” You whisper, hoping to catch him while he’s still awake. “You’re gonna go far, do amazing things. I’m so proud of you, and I love you.”

“I know,” Ominis lets out a sleepy sigh, heavy eyelids drooping. “I love you too.”

Before long, Ominis is softly snoring in your ear. Blinking your bleary eyes, you can see the dark sky turning lighter and lighter through the curtains. It’s graduation day; in a few hours, Ominis will walk across the stage and move on to the next phase of his life.

Merlin, you hope to be part of the next chapter.

You jolt awake when you hear the door knob to Ominis’s room jiggling. The blond is still fast asleep, a smile on his face as he dreams.

“Ominis, wake up,” you groan. “It’s morning.”

“It was morning when we fell asleep,” he swats away at you, digging his face into the pillows.

“Well, it’s graduation morning.” You warn him. “We have to get ready–I have to go home, I have to change and shower. You have to shower.”

“Shower here,” Ominis complains, tugging you back against his warm chest. “And you can shower with me.”

“I can’t go to your graduation wearing a bloody mini dress,” you scold him, rolling out of bed. You tug open his dresser, pulling out a well worn sweater and some sweatpants. “There’s someone at the door too.”

“It’s me,” a muffled voice yells. “Wakey wakey, lovebirds!”

Ominis flips back over in bed as you tug the sweater over your head, swinging the door open. You’d recognize the Scottish lilt anywhere–it’s Sebastian, grinning broadly with a garment bag in hand.

“What is that?” You gape.

Sebastian pushes his way into the room, hanging the black bag between Ominis’s graduation robes. “Had a feeling you wouldn’t be going home last night,” he winks, unzipping the bag. “So I asked Imelda to pull together some options for you. Picked them up this morning; there’s some bagels and coffee downstairs too.”

You’re embarrassed but thankful for your friends–Imelda has packed some tasteful day dresses, all appropriate for the event in mind.

Sebastian drops another bag onto the ground, sinking into the now up-right office chair. “She packed more appropriate heels. Oh, and a bra and underwear. Thought you might’ve lost yours.”

“Get out,” Ominis groans, tossing a pillow at Sebastian.

The freckled bastard lets out a laugh, his whole body shaking as he dodges Ominis’s throw. “Best get in the shower, Mr. President. Can’t have you walking across the stage to get your diploma with sex hair.” Sebastian waggles his eyebrows, and even though Ominis can’t see, he knows the expression on Sebastian’s face.

You hear your name from the doorframe, and both you and Sebastian turn to see who it is. Lucan and Garreth are standing with bagels, idly observing the scene before them.

“Amit owes me ten galleons,” Garreth says, his mouth still full of his poppy seed bagel. “He said you’d never admit how you feel to Ominis–”

“That’s not what I said!” You hear Amit’s voice from down the hallway. “Garreth, don’t twist my words.”

Lucan pushes his way into the room, holding his bagel between his teeth. “Can I get in to measure now?” he asks, pulling his wand from his pocket. “I do think I could fit a nice little bar in the corner here–”

“Everyone out!” Ominis roars, standing up in just his boxer shorts. “Everyone who isn’t my girlfriend can fuck off.”

Instead of scattering, everyone freezes in place.

“Girlfriend?” You squeak out.

Ominis’s furrowed brow softens, his cheeks heating up as he scratches the back of his neck.

“I assumed,” he said sheepishly. “When we said we loved each other.”

“Alright, nothing to see here folks. Everyone go back to your knitting.” Sebastian says hastily, pulling Lucan into a headlock to drag him out of the room. He pushes Garreth in the chest, and you hear several pairs of feet scrambling in the hallway–no doubt Amit, Andrew, and the others have congregated outside of Ominis’s door to eavesdrop.

Sebastian shoots you both a knowing look as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone with Ominis once more.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” Ominis croaks. “I understand. I’m leaving in a few days, it makes sense.”

You tiptoe over to him, placing a hand on his chest. You can feel his heart hammering beneath you, one of his hands resting atop yours to keep it in place.

“What would being your girlfriend entail?” You ask slowly, nails dragging across his skin.

Ominis offers you a small smile. “Nothing has to change, not really. Just that I get to tell you that I love you out loud.”

“And perhaps there will be space for me in New York.” You say slowly, chewing on your lower lip.

Ominis’s face lights up, tugging you in with a firm arm around your waist. “There will most definitely be space for you in New York,” he announces. “It’s only fitting that I make room for you, considering you’re the person who convinced me to go.”

“Your girlfriend,” you enunciate.

“My girlfriend,” Ominis repeats back to you. It isn’t long before he’s kissing you, his tongue snaking its way into your mouth. You have to pull yourself back, eyeing the clock on Ominis’s desk.

“We have to shower,” you remind him, hands pressed against his chest. “Otherwise, I’ll be late to my boyfriend’s graduation ceremony.”

Ominis grins, pressing a quick kiss against your cheek. He maneuvers over to his dresser, pulling out two clean towels. Wand in hand, he slings the towels over his shoulder, his other hand outstretched to grab yours.

You fold your palm into his, following him out the door without a word.

The last week almost seems like a blur to you.

That Sunday, you watched Ominis graduate university with honors, several stoles draped across his shoulders. One from the honors college, another for his outstanding leadership. The third looks a bit hodge-podge, but it’s the most important to him–a stole crafted by Sebastian and the others, crudely decorated in a way only twenty-something boys would do.

The satin stole with the Gaunt family motto is promptly burned in the celebratory bonfire Lucan sets that night, all of you sitting around the fire pit with beers in hand.

Every day since then has been bliss. You’ve only gone home once, packing a bag with a week’s worth of clothes while Imelda gives you smug looks. You’ve effectively moved into Ominis’s bedroom for one last week together. It’s for practical reasons, you tell the others. By day, you’re helping Ominis pack his belongings and bring whatever items he needs to donate to the university charity shop. You even help him pack a cardboard box with any Gaunt family memorabilia, slapping a label to ship the useless trinkets back to Marvolo. Ominis doesn’t need to rely on his family name anymore, at least not where he’s going.

The others come and go, but soon the new graduates start to move. Amit and Andrew are the first to leave, off to start their ministry jobs. Garreth follows shortly after, moving to a cottage in Cornwall to start his bulk potions business. Come Friday, it’s just you, Ominis, and Sebastian left as the rest of the underclassmen have left for their summer holidays.

You enjoy one last night cooking dinner with your two best boys, tears pricking the corners of your eyes if you think too hard about how this might be the last time the three of you are in a room together for a while. After dessert, Sebastian leaves the house to visit friends; more likely, he’s giving the two of you the house alone for your final night together.

You’d expect last night together to be frenetic, but Ominis’s love making remains slow and deliberate. Ominis meant it when he said he wanted to remember every bit of you, his hands exploring your body as he makes you come several times in the night. You cry out the last time, exhausted but pawing at him for more.

More, more, more. More time, most of all.

Both of you cry a little, murmuring promises to each other before falling asleep.

When you wake, the air is melancholy. The two of you move in silence, Ominis showering and packing the remnants of his suitcase. You put your dirty clothes from the week in your bag as well, and the two of you say goodbye to his little bedroom for the last time. Ominis swallows thickly as you both get into the car, Sebastian choosing the passenger seat so the two of you can sit together in the back.

The airport isn’t too busy, which affords you time for a long farewell. Ominis’s wand is safely concealed in a cane, and Sebastian slips a pair of sunglasses over his eyes so he fits in better with the muggles.

“You have a new phone now,” Sebastian reminds him. “So don’t give me any excuses for not calling or texting.”

“I will,” Ominis promises. “Thank you, Sebastian. I–” his voice cracks, and his eyes flutter as he swallows. “I’m glad I met you when I was eleven.” It's a simple sentence, but the words impart just how much Ominis loves Sebastian.

Sebastian whimpers, pulling his best friend, his brother into a hug. You have to turn away, dabbing at your eyes as the two men say farewell after living together for over a decade.

“Alright, sod off,” Sebastian blurts, wiping at his nose. “Your turn to say goodbye, I can’t do this anymore.”

Ominis lets out a watery laugh as Sebastian meanders away, giving the two of you some time alone. You don’t want to waste any of the precious seconds you have left with Ominis waffling, so you tug him into a tight embrace, your arms locking around his neck.

“I love you,” Ominis says against your hair. “I love you.”

You’re kissing him all over his face, leaving tears in your wake. “I love you too,” you murmur. “Remember what I told you.”

“If you want to go far, you’ve got to go far.” Ominis mutters. “I’m doing this for me–for us.”

“Better save a drawer for me,” you whisper.

“The very best one,” Ominis whispers back. “It’ll be there for you, next year.”

Sebastian nearly has to pry the two of you apart, reminding Ominis that his plane leaves within the hour and he still needs to get through security. The steps the blond takes towards the line are rigid, his subconscious fighting the physical act of leaving. But deep down, all of you know it–Ominis is going to do great things, and he’s going to do it without his family breathing down his neck, trying to force him to conform to their ways.

You feel a hand grabbing yours; it’s Sebastian, squeezing you tight as you both watch Ominis move through the line. Minutes later, he’s waving goodbye, disappearing into the departures terminal.

You and Sebastian stay until Ominis’s blond head is no longer visible over the crowd.

Finishing your dissertation is eating up all your free time, but you reserve an hour at the end of the day to talk to Ominis over his brand new phone. The time difference is a bit jarring; sometimes you find yourself staying up well into the twilight hours to listen to Ominis ramble on about his job and the work they’ve done to protect international magical affairs. He asks you how his brothers are doing, if Lucan has stirred any trouble yet. You tell him all about how they still invite you to parties every weekend, and Lucan decided against building the wet bar in his room. You talk about Sebastian’s rotations at St. Mungo’s and how the two of you still try to have dinner at least once a week despite your busy schedules.

You tell him to save his money, but Ominis isn’t one to skimp out on gifts. He still sends owl post, care packages from his tiny apartment in New York. After you tell him his fraternity letters are starting to wear thin, he sends you a New York t-shirt that smells like cool musk. You start wearing it to bed every night; once the smell wears off, Ominis sends a bottle of his cologne as well.

Phone sex isn’t half bad either, you decide. You come every time Ominis tells you to, gasping when you hear him touch himself on the other end of the line.

One day, Ominis sends you an e-mail about job requisitions at the MACUSA headquarters. They have their own department of mysteries, Ominis explains. If you’re interested at all.

You apply and wait to hear back. I hope it’s not a conflict of interest that my boyfriend is the newest hot shot solicitor in the office of international affairs.

It isn’t, it turns out. You’re offered a job interview over the winter holidays if you can make it to New York City in time. Ominis sends you the ticket in your email, assuring you that he’ll pick you up from the airport. He does exactly as he’s promised, and you laugh at how much he’s bundled himself up against the New York City snow. When you leave the airport you laugh a little less, snow already getting into your shoes. Ominis is a gentleman through and through, and carries you from the car up the stairs to his apartment lobby.

You think your interview at MACUSA has gone well, and you start enjoying all the walking you have to do to get around the city. Ominis takes you to all his favorite restaurants, and he shows you the drawer he’s been saving for you. His apartment feels like home, even if you have to squeeze past the dining table to get to the bed. The two of you Facetime Sebastian from bed, the brunette recounting his shifts at St. Mungo’s in great detail.

“Say, do you have a hospital in the city?” Sebastian asks. “If she’s going, I want to come too. We’re a package deal.”

Ominis rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s a hospital here, Sebastian. It’s not a primitive land. It’s New York, for Merlin's sake.”

You laugh, trying not to shake the phone as you try to keep Ominis in frame.

The week passes by too fast. Ominis brings you back to the airport, and this goodbye is even harder than the one after graduation. You find it nearly impossible to take your hands off him, his lips pressing kisses to your face.

“It’s just a little while longer,” Ominis reminds you.

“We don’t even know if I’ll get it,” you shrug.

“You’re going to get it,” Ominis assures you. It feels like deja vu, as if you’ve had this conversation before.

About a week into the second term, you receive your job offer from MACUSA.

May arrives quicker than you thought it would. You get a few less calls with Ominis during your finals week, and he promises to make it up to you somehow. Even though you have a job offer, it’s contingent on you passing your final exams. Ominis quizzes you through the phone while Sebastian brings you dinner between his shifts. It’s a group effort to get you across the finish line.

You pass, and you finally get to breathe a sigh of relief. The week of your graduation is filled with parties and celebrations, Lucan inviting you to come back to the house. It doesn’t feel as right without Sebastian or Ominis inside, so you don’t stay long. Sebastian promises he'll try to be at your graduation, trading shifts with other healers. On the other hand, Ominis is stuck in the middle of an important case. You tell him not to worry, and that you'll see him in a week when you move.

Come graduation day, you’re standing in front of the theater, your diploma in hand. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and you pull it out to read your texts. You have one missed message from Sebastian.

Sorry I missed your ceremony. Got called in to cover someone’s shift this morning. I promise I’ll be at your dinner later tonight. Oh, and I hope you enjoy your grad present xx

You furrow your brow, typing back a response. You don’t remember anything about a present–

“Congratulations, darling.”

You look up, nearly dropping your phone in the process. A tall lithe blond clad in a three piece suit, a MACUSA pin on the lapel.

Ominis smiles at you, a bouquet of sunflowers in hand.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt smut #frat ominis gaunt #modern au ominis gaunt #listen here there's a lot of creative liberties taken with college frats and magic here #but frat ominis wouldn't leave my mind

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