cursedonyx

[cursedonyx]

I just started chapter 17 of The Cost of Love and I have one question:

FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN TELL ME DRAC REMEMBERS HER BOYS AT SOME POINT!!!!

Hey there, hope you're enjoying it! Sorry to say but I'm not giving any spoilers, you'll have to keep reading 😉

You're not far from finding out the answer though!

[cursedonyx]

✨WIP Tag Game✨

A huge thank you to the lovely and talented @morelikeravenbore for the tag 🥰 I've had little cause to write of late, far to many bothersome aspects of real life have intruded upon my literary desires. However, I did cook up a little somethin' somethin' that probably counts.

Until Death Do Us Part

It had been six months since Ominis experienced what he considered to be a contender for one of the worst days of his life. When he had been younger, if someone had ever cared to ask him; “what’s the worst thing to ever happen to you?” he could have easily answered that it was the day his own family cast Crucio on him to force him to torture a muggle. Once his terrible fifth year was over and done with, it became more of a struggle to choose between that, and the day he learned that his best friend was going to be sent to Azkaban, despite his decision along with the new student to protect him from his misdeeds. It seemed Anne had second thoughts about that, for she turned her brother in.

At the time, Ominis veered towards the latter being more awful, because it was the single thing that had set the rest of his terrible life in motion, the sole reason he found himself without an escape, a sanctuary, or a friend to have his back once term ended.

He’d had nowhere else to go, so he had to go back home. Not the home he’d come to think of as home, no, that was Hogwarts, and the Sallow’s cottage in Feldcroft. Neither were an option for a summer holiday after Anne vanished and Sebastian was arrested.

Ominis winced, trying very hard not to think too much about what transpired when he stood in the presence of his parents for the first time after five long years. He tried very hard not to think about how he’d known what awaited him as he stood, back rigid, in the cold entrance hall of the manor. The jabs at his appearance. The mockery of his carefully chosen clothing. The snide remarks about his blindness, his capability as a wizard, his failings as a man. He tried very hard not to think about how his chest had clenched, his heart had raced, his palms had grown clammy. He’d known he was to endure weeks of not just verbal insults, but brutal, physical attacks as well. Hexes. Jinxes. Curses. His parents never denied his older brothers their second favourite sport of Ominis-tormenting.

He sighed. He’d survived it before, and he had survived it again. He at least had enjoyed Christmas and Easter at Hogwarts through his sixth and seventh years, though without his best friend, even that small mercy felt cold.

It was when school ended that Ominis thought again about how he had another contender for the worst day of his life. Leaving behind the place where he had made his very first friends, learned how to use magic, discovered secrets, and learned to stand up for himself was almost as painful as losing Sebastian and Anne in the same month had been. But he had left with six OWLS of rather good merit, if he said so himself. All he had to do now was find a job and passage abroad, perhaps to France, and he could escape his damnable family for good.

No such luck. He’d been home barely a week before they told him they had arranged for him to be married. He remembered the glee in their voices as they told him this, mentioning some pureblood he’d never heard of.

“She’s a disappointment to her family as well, so you’re the perfect match.”

“Homeschooled, so she won’t have had time to learn how unsatisfactory you are.”

“Or how ugly. She may faint before she reaches the alter.”

Ominis had decided he hated her as much as his parents for agreeing to this.

The wedding was quick, and he often wondered if this was to prevent the pair of them from gathering enough courage to run for it, or lose their minds and start cursing everything in the vicinity. He’d thought about it more than once. Perhaps it was quick because her parents didn’t want to spend any more time or galleons than necessary on the ordeal. There wasn’t even a reception. For that, at least, he was grateful.

Ominis sighed again, his head pillowed on satin. The covers of his bed were satin as well. Thankfully, he slept alone.

He remembered all too well standing before some altar, a person of wheezing breath laced with halitosis standing behind it. The sound of a distant door opening had set his racing heart to squeezing, and the sound of it closing could have been his very own death knell. He had kept his wand firmly in hand, refusing to raise it to gather the impression of his bride as he had listened to her footsteps drawing closer, the low click of heels on tiles, the tiniest echo resounding over the rustling of fabric dragged over the floor. Her dress, no doubt. He had wondered if she was ugly. He had hoped she was ugly, because then he would have less excuse to touch her, blind or no.

He had been silent as she arrived at the altar, standing before him. From the barest change in the air from her breath, he had guessed she was of his height, and he was not a short man. He had drawn himself up to his full height, no longer looking down and to the right, just in case his eyeline landed somewhere it shouldn’t and embarrassing someone. No, he had stared right where he imagined this woman’s eyes to be, and from the tiny intake of breath, he knew he was staring right into them, something that unnerved those unused to it. A talent he wielded with grim satisfaction.

She smelled amazing. He hated that she smelled amazing.

He’d barely heard the creaking voice of the minister, hurrying through the wedding rites. He’d just kept on glaring, and he imagined he could feel his fury returned, his eyes hot and dry, as if she was burning them with her own glower. He had hardly noticed when she took his hand to slide something cold and smooth over his finger, and he’d had to force his hand to perform the same motion for her. The only words that had registered in his mind were the ones he wished he could have missed.

You may now kiss your bride.

He hadn’t moved, so she did. She had come forward, and he had felt her breath on his face. Sweet and touched with mint. Their lips had brushed, barely a touch, and Ominis fought not to recoil. His first kiss. He’d been saving it for… well. He didn’t know who, but it wasn’t her.

His lip had curled.

“Until death do us part,” Ominis hissed.

“Yours, or mine?” she replied.

Her voice was surprisingly melodic, low pitched, and… Merlin, the word sultry had almost crossed his mind, had he not caught it by the ankles and throttled the life out of it. She had taken his arm in an iron grip and steered him down the aisle. This woman, his wife, in all but want.

That had been six months ago. They shared a small house on the outskirts of Surrey, surrounded on three sides by fields, farmland and woodland, a town at their back. The only thing they had agreed on, the moment they stepped into the carriage to fly them to their new home, was to avoid each other as much as possible. They barely passed each other, let alone spoke to each other. Meals were shared in stony silence, though Ominis was privately pleased that she was a competent cook, though this pleasure rankled him.

He could hear her now. She had risen from her own bed in her own room, and in moments, she would cross the landing to the bathroom, where she would spend twenty minutes showering and readying herself for the day. He would remain in bed, waiting for her to go downstairs, and then he would rise, bathe, and follow for breakfast. Then they would go about their days.

Her family were wealthy. Far wealthier than the Gaunts, and he had come to realise that this was the only reason he’d been married off to her. The dowry, he had heard, had been most impressive, if only to get rid of a disappointing daughter and a disappointing son. Failure to impress one’s parents, he thought, could be a lucrative business indeed, had he the will to harness such a thing. Her money had become his, and there was enough to support them for many a year. Good thing too, because he had no inclination to work.

Ominis rolled onto his side. Living at home had been miserable. Bullied, tormented, even tortured, his days had been filled with fear, his nights with terror. Hogwarts, despite his friendship with Sebastian and Anne, had been little better. Students hated or feared him, assumed him Dark, avoided him or bullied him, and though their jibes were nothing compared to his family, it was still awful. But now? Living in silence in a house that didn’t feel like home, friendless, married to a woman that clearly despised him as much as he did her, Ominis thought he couldn’t be more miserable if he made a jolly good effort to be so.

He didn’t want to get up. He rarely did these days, for he saw little point. What joy did a walk in the fresh air hold for him if he had this to come home to? What was the point in losing himself in a storybook if reality was waiting for him to close the cover? What distraction did dreams hold, if a loveless marriage was all he had to look forward to when he woke?

He’d thought he’d never marry when he was younger. The girls at Hogwarts didn’t interest him, and the boys certainly didn’t, no matter how some of the other students liked to insinuate his preferences because of his determination in remaining well-groomed and spoken. Yes, he had longed for someone to love him, to accept him as he was, but he knew it wasn’t possible. Who could love, or even want a creature like him? Blind, broken, defective, hated by all but a few, who turned out to be just as fucked up as he was.

Ominis came to realise two things a little too late. The first was that his wife had come into his room, no doubt looking for him as he hadn’t come down to breakfast. The second thing was that he was weeping.

“Ominis?”

His breath caught. He registered the dampness on his cheeks. He felt them flood with heat, and he pulled the covers over his head, praying in vain that she hadn’t seen. That she would leave. That she would just let him be.

Of course, wilful, stubborn creature that she was, she did none of those things. She remained in the doorway for a moment longer, then came closer, her feet hushing over the carpet. There was another pause, and then his mattress sank to one side as she perched beside him. He tensed.

“Get out,” he managed.

She did not. A weight landed on his shoulder, tentative at first, then firm. Her hand. A squeeze.

“Are you unwell?”

“I said get out,” Ominis snarled, pulling the covers tighter about his head.

The hand withdrew, but her presence did not. Ominis clenched his jaw, scrubbing angrily at his eyes under the marginal safety of the quilt. Dimly, he realised that this was the most they had spoken since they were married, if one ignored the snipes and jabs they threw at each other on occasion, a means of venting their displeasure and frustrations that never seemed to soothe either.

He heard a soft breath, the sigh of snow slumping off a roof, the sound it makes as it falls. He waited for the flump.

“Ominis… I know this isn’t what either of us wanted. Hell, I know it isn’t what I wanted. I wanted to explore, to travel the world, to discover some new magic or make something of myself. I never wanted to be married, least of all to someone that barely notices if I walk into the room.”

Ominis said nothing. Of course he would be the root of this woman’s woes. If he remained silent, perhaps she would leave him be.

But she didn’t. She remained, the warmth of her body seeping into the mattress, and he knew it would remain there long after he left, an indelible imprint that would so unwelcomely remind him of her intrusion.

“We’re stuck,” she said now, and her voice was the low hum of a cello in a distant room. “We’re married, whether we like it or not. Would it not be sensible to just… try to get on? We could at least make an effort to be cordial with one another.”

“We could divorce,” Ominis muttered, loudly enough for her to hear. She gave a wry laugh, and his lips twisted outward, the way the gnarled root of an ancient oak might twist. It could be mistaken for a smile on a dark night, if one were inclined towards fancy. They both knew divorce was not an option. The Gaunts had made it perfectly clear that if the annual payments from his wife’s family ceased for whatever reason, he would beg for death before they were through with him. He knew they wouldn’t grant it, either. Not for months. Years, if they could keep him alive and sane that long.

For a long few minutes, they sat in silence. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and Ominis’ heartbeat resounding in the mattress and burrowing through the pillow to his ear. It was growing uncomfortably close under the covers, and he found himself craving fresh air. Gingerly, his hand crept forward, lifting the cover just enough to allow it in without uncovering his face. The air came, and with it came her scent, marking itself on the inside of his lungs as surely as it would mark itself in his bedlinen. Something that smelled of warm citrus and amber. It made him think of hot, dry summer nights, a time forgotten when he holidayed in Greece with his family. Well. They holidayed. He endured. He had hated the hustle and bustle and the way nothing was familiar, the food was strange and unpalatable, the voices rough and incomprehensible, the weather scalding and intolerable.

The smells though… he’d loved them. Exotic and musky and enticing.

Sultry.

Ominis pulled the covers off his head and sat up, keeping them drawn to his chest. He faced his wife for the first time in six months, and again heard the soft intake of breath as his pupilless eyes found hers.

“Why are you here?”

“We’re married,” she replied. Her tone was sardonic, and he could have sworn he heard her smirk. His fingers tightened in the covers.

“I meant in my room,” he growled. “I appreciate my privacy.”

“I thought you might be unwell,” she said. He felt the mattress shift, and thought she might have shrugged. “You’re never late to breakfast. I came to check.”

“Such a caring wife,” he bit. “Perhaps I tire of your cooking.”

“Perhaps I do as well,” she said.

Ominis glared. He was trying to needle her, some base thing within him longing for a fight, a true, proper argument in which he could let loose, scream and shout and vent everything he had been holding since the day he was born into this cursed life, but by Merlin, she seemed to be enjoying his taunts. It sounded like she was smiling.

“I’m not doing it,” he groused. “The cooking, I mean. It’s your job.”

“Jobs are paid,” she remarked, still in that infuriatingly bright tone, as if they were simply conversing, not steering towards a tantrum. “I do it because I enjoy it. You would too, if you could cook.”

Ominis’ fist clenched. He wished he had his wand in hand as her playful jab landed and dug into his skin. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how! No one had ever shown him.

“Do not mock me,” he snarled. “You… invade my room, my life, and mock me?”

“I invaded your life as much as you invaded mine,” she replied, and Ominis found himself inordinately pleased at the sudden coolness in her tone. But the growing grin was tugged off his face as she wrongfooted him yet again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

She rose at last from her seat on the edge of his bed, and he heard her move away. In that moment, he wanted to call her back to him, to apologise himself for his behaviour, his bad mood, his determination to start a fight. How foolish it seemed to him then, that he would behave so childishly, when she too had had her life, her goals, her wishes shattered by the machinations of a family that termed her existence a disappointment, as his family did.

Perhaps they did have something in common after all.

Tags!

@thatssallowsgirl @alliezarin @blackhehecat @islayhawkin @morelikeravenbore (because your prose is like chocolate cake after lent) @little-emerald-snake and anyone else who would like to join 💚

[cursedonyx]

Updated my Ominis tattoo design. Low res pic because I've been doing this for 12 hours and my hand hurts and I want my bed.

[cursedonyx]

The trouble with having so many ideas for fics and being only one person that has to hold down a job and find the time to write, I see other fics popping up that literally have the same premise as fics I've been planning to write 😂😂😂 I've literally seen two separate ones by two different authors AND an absolutely beautiful bit of comic art with a quote from Omi I've had written down in CoL for the last four months 😂😂😂

Genuinely, this isn't a rant at all, more an observation on how there aren't really that many original ideas, especially when writing fanfiction! I might write mine anyway, but I've got my current ones to finish first 😬 I can't wait to read the fics that have similar ideas!

[cursedonyx]

HL Christmas Headcanons

🎄❄️🎄

Sebastian Sallow

Sebastian enjoys Christmas quite a lot, though it often comes with some melancholy for him. He has fond but faint memories of his parents around this time of year, and he mostly remembers cosy reds and warm fires and the scent of nutmeg and marshmallow. He remembers feeling safe, loved, and excited. Of course, that changed when he and Anne went to live with Solomon – their days became colder, hugs less frequent, affection rarely given from their irascible guardian. Christmas was celebrated in the Sallow’s cottage, but it wasn’t the same.

However, when Sebastian and Anne went to Hogwarts, they elected to stay at the castle for that first year, to keep Ominis company. Solomon spent his first Christmas in six years alone, and it made him rethink things. Not by a lot, but just enough to make the effort to throw up a bit of tinsel and get some turkey for supper, to gift each of the three children a small, inexpensive bauble that showed he tried without having to go to too much effort. Anne found this gesture deeply endearing, but Sebastian wasn’t so easily convinced, knowing that an another argument was just around the corner. Whenever he can, he takes the opportunity to make a big thing out of Christmas, eating too much at dinner, buying presents he can’t really afford so his sister and best friend have lovely things to open, singing carols at the top of his voice and hilariously out of tune.

Sebastian wants this time of year to be special, memorable, and important, something to look forward to when things get too dark. Even after fifth year, when his friendship with Ominis is strained and Anne isn’t talking to him and Solomon is dead, he still tries. He decorates the cottage how he feels it should be decorated, he cuts down a tree by himself and hauls it in, agonising over each and every detail to make sure it’s perfect. He buys presents for everyone – Ominis, Anne, all his classmates, and you, of course. It doesn’t matter if he’s barely spoken to someone, even the teachers get a little gift, even if it’s just a small bar of Honeydukes’ chocolate. Sebastian needs this time of year to be special, to help him remember that there is still some good in the world, that he is still capable of love, and being loved.

And sometimes, just as he's about to drift off to sleep, he smells the faint scent of nutmeg and marshmallow, and his dreams are soft and warm.

Ominis Gaunt

For Ominis, Christmas was just another time of year. His parents considered it a very muggle tradition, and as such eschewed typical celebratory activities. However, that didn't stop them trying to outdo other noble families in terms of the most expensive gifts to each other (which the Gaunts promptly sold, hoping their fellow purebloods didn't notice they'd spent less on their gifts and enchanted them). Decorations mean nothing to Ominis, they simply serve to be an annoyance if suddenly there’s a bloody tree in the middle of the floor that wasn’t there yesterday, tinsel to trip over and baubles to slip on. But when he was very small, Noctua told him about Christmas, old Saint Nick, the elves, and more, whispering stories of fantasy to him and gifting him small, thoughtful things that set his imagination alight, thinking such things couldn't be real. Of course, that stopped when she vanished, and Ominis didn’t dare raise the subject with his parents for fears of reprisal.

So, it was quite the shock when Hogwarts became abundantly festive during his first year, his new friends’ enthusiasm alien to him. He had no desire to return home unless he absolutely had to, and he was touched when Anne and Sebastian decided to stay with him. Over that holiday, Ominis’ opinions began to shift, and he secretly came to love the sound of carols, the smell of peppermint and pine, the subtle shift in the air that brought with it kindness and joy, things that had been all too rare for him.

Ominis isn’t really one for giving or receiving gifts, being of the opinion that there’s usually some kind of string attached, an unspoken, expected favour to be called upon at a later date. As such, Ominis is incredibly selective about who he accepts presents from, and who he gifts them to. Anne, Sebastian and you would receive small things that to the average outsider seem like afterthoughts – a bracelet made of glass beads, a copy of a children's book, a series of different kinds of flowers dried and pressed and enchanted to last. Those he doesn’t know well or doesn't trust will be gifted far more extravagant things, which seems very odd to those that don’t know Ominis.

But those that do know him know that these ‘last minute’ or ‘thoughtless’ presents are actually representations of how well Ominis knows his friends. Anne had been gushing for months about this particular bracelet, wishing she had one just like it. Sebastian had been bemoaning how his favourite copy of Beedle’s Tales had fallen to bits because he’d read it so much, and as for the flowers… Ominis is well versed in floriography, and there will be a message in there, just for you.

The extravagant gifts for family and newcomers to his friendship circle is an insurance policy to make sure he is in no way indebted. Ominis can’t stand being in debt to anyone, especially at Christmas.

Garreth Weasley

Christmas for Garreth is a huge event. It’s a time filled with laughter, happiness, enthusiasm, excitement… everything Christmas should be. He never spends it at Hogwarts, preferring to go home and be with his family, where it’s always loud and full of smells of cooking, where everyone is so tightly packed together you can’t turn around without bumping into another Weasley.

He is enthusiastic about everything to do with Christmas, from the presents to the decorations to the cooking to the dinner itself. The Weasleys have several small family traditions that could be missed if you’ve just come into the family or have never experienced a Weasley Christmas before – things like always taking a sip of liquor before you start to eat, because Garreth’s granddad once made a joke about ‘whetting the appetite’ and baby Garreth took this literally, grabbing his grandad’s whisky. Another tradition is how the Weasley children will pile into their parents’ bedroom, no matter their age, and all sit on the bed to open their stockings before they all go downstairs together to open the presents under the tree.

Though the Weasleys aren’t well off by any means, each of them tends to have their family and Christmas in mind for most of the year, and will always be on the lookout for little bargains, trinkets, and special offers they can snaffle to hoard until the end of the year. It’s important to them that they have lots of things to open, even if it’s individually wrapped pieces of a puzzle set or chocolate hamper or artistic kit. It makes everyone feel like there’s more to go around, and that just for one day, they can forget about their nearly-empty Gringotts Vault.

Garreth himself is absurdly generous, and he’ll happily do favours and odd jobs for people if that means he can earn a little extra gold so he can make Christmas a bit more special for his family and friends. He happily opens his home to you if you ever express the slightest interest in a Weasley Christmas. If you attend, you’ll feel like part of the family in no time at all.

[cursedonyx]

The conversation we never go to hear between Sebastian and Ominis after the Scriptorium incident.

~

"How could you do it, Sebastian? How could you curse someone like that, curse her? You had to mean it!"

"I just... we could have died otherwise! It doesn't matter how I did it, I just did. We got out, we're alive, aren't we?"

"Ominis? Don't ignore me."

"I'm not ignoring you, Sallow, I'm processing. I won't forget this."

"Hey, come on mate. You forgot all about that time I accidentally turned your hair blue, right?"

"Turned my-? I don't believe this. How can you think this is comparable? Her scream went right through me, Sallow, I felt it in my bones! ...I ...I haven't felt anything else since."

[cursedonyx]

Hi!! Do you think there will be a chap update for taming the serpent sometime soon? I’m really enjoying it and would really love to read more

Yes at some point, as much as I love writing TtS it does come second to my main fic, but chapters are in the works!

So glad you're enjoying it, thank you! 💚

[cursedonyx]

An unnecessarily strong Polyjuice potion

A stupid story about MC having an abnormally long polyjuice trip, and Sebastian doing unbelievable things *again*

My comics` fluidity usually sucks LOL

[cursedonyx]

"Mr Gaunt will see you now."

It's your first day at your new job, working for the Investigations team of the Ministry of Magic's Law Enforcement Department, and you've already managed to make a major mistake. Your boss, Ominis, is not impressed.

(Otherwise known as I wanted to try my hand at this AI thing and I am very happy with the results even if I had to edit his eyes)

[cursedonyx]

Hi um yes hello, um your writing is amazing. Absolutely stunning. I tore through the entirety of the price of power in three days and just finished up what is posted for the cost of love. The end of the price of power made me burst into tears. I absolutely loved all of your little references that you snuck in here and there. Amazing work, thank you very much for providing a me with a thing to hyper fixate on for the last few days. I have not been able to stop reading it. My goblin of a brain appreciates it very much

Thank you anon! So glad you enjoyed it 💚💚💚💚💚

[cursedonyx]

Name something you have never done in Hogwarts Legacy. I'll start.

I have never imperioed Ominis.

[cursedonyx]

Do you plan on making some more HL audios any time soon? I got too invested in that Ominis one, the quality was fire af😳

Honestly I've not thought too much about it, but I suppose I should at some point. I'll have to think of more ways to get our Prince of Snakes all hot and bothered. Glad you liked it!

[cursedonyx]

Anyone else think that Roger Bart singing 'Go the Distance' from Disney's Hercules sounds like Ominis?

[cursedonyx]

#loch lomond #ominis gaunt

O you'll take the high road, and I'll take the low road And I'll be in Scotland afore ye

[cursedonyx]

Just throwing it out there, if HL2 isn't a direct continuation of our story in our 6th and 7th years with all the named companions, I'm not buying it.

[cursedonyx]

Hii! I saw your ideas for one shots you posted recently and I would absolutely LOVE to read all of them, but especially the one with Ominis, where Garreth slips Ominis his new potion and MC is helping Ominis with its 'hard' effects 🤭

So if you have time and if you'd want to write it, I would love to read it! ❤️

I have FINALLY gotten around to doing this ask, and as I’d had this in my drafts for ages I thought why not make it an eleventh-hour post for Kinktober too? I would have done more for Kinktober but, like our favourite old faithful that hasn’t been charged in a while, my smut battery was firmly depleted for quite some time.

This doesn’t follow any specific Kinktober prompt, but what the hell, hopefully you all enjoy this little tale of poor Ominis being utterly humiliated and thoroughly fucked.

Masterlist

Don’t Drug Your Friends

(Unless They’re Ominis and in Need of a Good Fucking)

Synopsis – After a multitude of experimental potions and a variety of undesirable effects, no one at Hogwarts wants to be a guineapig for Garreth’s new brews. In desperation, Garreth resorts to underhanded methods in order to test his newest concoction, and slips it into Ominis’ tea. Unfortunately for the poor Heir of Slytherin, the effects are both humiliating and unconquerable until the woman he’s secretly been in love with for the last two years offers to help put the proverbial basilisk back to sleep.

Word Count – 4.9k

Warnings – Female MC, House unspecified, NSFW, MDNI, dubcon, drugging, masturbation, handjob M!Receiving, oral M!Receiving, PIV, and a very embarrassed and needy Sub!Ominis.

All characters aged 18+.

Happy Kinktober.

Springtime at Hogwarts was a time for most students to pretend they were studying, as they instead dreamt about who they were going to ask on a date to Hogsmeade for Valentines, gossiped about the latest scandals, or got hyped for Quidditch. For the seventh years, it was a time to begin to panic about their upcoming exams and pretend they weren’t.

For Garreth Weasley, it was more a struggle than for most. Since the end of sixth year, when he’d convinced Lucan Brattleby to try his latest potion, and the poor lad had ended up in the Hospital Wing with scales, feathers, and the ability to burp luminous, sausage-like bubbles that took days to pop, the entirety of Gryffindor House had put a blanket ban on accepting so much as a biscuit from him. The other houses learned very quickly after this that no matter how much gold he offered, no matter how many favours, no matter how much he begged, it just wasn’t worth spending a week in hospital for.

But Garreth knew the only way to discover ✨The Perfect Potion™✨ was to practice, practice, practice, and in order to make sure his experiments actually achieved what he thought they should, he needed to test them. He always made sure he had a few poison antidotes on hand just in case, so he wasn’t entirely sure what all the fuss was about.

So it was that Sebastian and Ominis found themselves accosted by the boisterous redhead one early February morning in their seventh year, in the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower.

“Seriously, Sallow, I’ll pay you fifty galleons. Fifty! Think what you could do with that money!”

“Fuck off,” came the terse reply. “I said no eight times already, I’m not going to change my mind.”

“But if I can get this to work ahead of Valentines-”

“Unclog your ears, Weasley, he said no,” Ominis said, using his wand to pour a cup of tea with the cool indifference only a Slytherin pureblood seemed able to master.

Garreth narrowed his eyes. “I’d have thought you’d jump at the chance, Gaunt. Heard your family’s fallen on hard times.”

“It’s no secret,” Ominis said, supremely unbothered. Then, a tiny smirk touched his lips. “That said, I’m surprised you’ve got fifty galleons to offer in your entire family’s account.”

Unlike Ominis, Garreth was just a little bit touchy about his family’s fortunes. He needed to make this potion work ahead of Valentine’s so he could sell it for a huge profit! It would be so popular and he’d be rich and famous and would be able to make sure all his family were comfortable, what was so wrong about that?

Perhaps this was why Garreth decided to do what he did. Maybe he was just in a bad mood and wanted to cause a bit of trouble. Or maybe, just maybe, he was having withdrawals from seeing his potions at work and was determined to do anything to get his creation tested. He pretended to see Peeves causing havoc on the other side of the Tower, and when Sebastian turned to look, he upended the tiny, pink potion into Ominis’ tea.

He shared a grin with Leander, and groped for a notepad as Ominis picked up his cup.

“Alright, fine, suit yourselves. But it would have made an absolute killing, and I’d have given you commission for your help,” he said, trying to be nonchalant.

“Whatever.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I’ve enough to be worrying about without dealing with beetles falling out of my ears, thanks.”

Ominis shook his head and sipped his tea, closing his eyes at the warmth that slid past his lips and down his throat. He let his mind wander a little, and as it always did when he let it have some form of free reign, it landed squarely on the most incredible woman he’d ever known, the Hero of Hogwarts, for whom he had harboured a secret, burning love since their ill-fated trip to the Scriptorium.

A slim line appeared between his brows as the warmth from the tea seemed to settle under his collar, before spreading over his chest, creeping down his torso to pool between his thighs, and something began to stir.

Ominis, like any other man of his age, was no stranger to random bouts of wilful disobedience from his personal basilisk, and so he elected to ignore it, crossing an elegant leg over the other, hoping no one else had noticed. He took a slow breath and another drink, wondering vaguely why this particular standing to attention was coupled with something that felt concerningly like arousal. Yes, thinking of her certainly fired him up him like nothing else did, but he hadn’t been thinking of anything particularly ungentlemanly. He was in public, after all.

His hands tightened on his cup as the unspecified heat began to intensify, his half-mast blooming full, and as he heard Garreth leaning forward in his chair, and the scratch of quill on parchment, he began to put two and two together.

Uh-oh.

“Soooo…” Garreth said, in a voice so overly casual that it sent a thrill of fear through anyone in the vicinity that had recently had a drink. “How are we all feeling today? Normal? Bit hot under the collar? Thinking of anyone in particular?”

Ominis faced him, quite certain that steam might be curling up from under his shirt as his heart began to pound.

“What have you done?” he managed.

Garreth laughed. “Only what I had to. Don’t worry, the effects won’t last more than a few hours. I think.”

There was a clatter as Sebastian lunged across the low table, followed by a smash as the teapot shattered. Garreth yelped as Sebastian gripped handfuls of his robes and wrenched him out of his seat.

“What did you do?” he demanded, snarling.

“I needed to test my potion,” Garreth said, shoving him back. “Just slipped him a bit, that’s all!”

“What the fuck do you mean, you slipped him a bit!?” Sebastian barked. “What the hell is it meant to do?”

“I’m not sure yet, that’s why I needed to test it,” Garreth said, proudly. “It’s only a variant of a love potion that’s meant to make anyone you like want you in bed, nothing to worry about. Gaunt, tell me exactly what you’re feeling, spare no detail.”

“Are you insane?” Ominis hissed, hunching forward as his arousal twitched, nudging insistently against his belt and threatening to pop right out over the top of his waistband. “You better have an antidote for this, you cretin!”

Garreth gulped and edged behind Leander as Sebastian drew his wand, aiming it at his nethers. “Antidote? It’s only in the testing stages, I’ve not had time to-” he yelped as Sebastian fired a curse at him, and Leander had to put out a small fire on his robes.

Ominis felt his cheeks sear as another thrum of unspecified interest surged through him, his mouth drying. There was an insistent, needy ache growing in his lower abdomen, and he got the feeling that if he didn’t take care of it soon, he was going to be in serious trouble. It didn’t help that he could sense his friends staring at him, Garreth’s lack of subtlety and his shortening breath all but confirming the state he was in.

“Undercroft,” he managed to growl to Sebastian out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t follow me.”

“You okay?” Sebastian asked, as Ominis tugged his robes tight about himself and rose.

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, trying to stand as casually as he could without revealing his significantly growing problem. “Do try not to kill that little bastard while I’m gone, I’d like to do it myself.”

The cool of the Undercroft’s stone walls did little to alleviate the heat in his body as Ominis shouldered his way through the hidden entrance, his pace increasing as he half ran towards a stack of crates at the back, positioned deliberately to hide a pile of cushions and blankets for the rare instances when he just couldn’t ignore his body’s needs. Ominis hissed between his teeth and turned his wand about the Undercroft, hoping that she wasn’t down here. Merlin, he’d never live it down if she saw him like this.

Hell, it was embarrassing enough to be in this predicament, but for his friends to know as well! The thought scalded him, making him cringe. It was worse that they knew why he’d gone off by himself. Yes, everybody did it, but that didn’t mean everyone should bloody know about it when he did! It was hard enough to find alone time as it was, but for anyone else to know… Ominis groaned. With the way gossip spread, the whole bloody castle would know that the infamously stoic Ominis Gaunt had needed to dash off and have a wank by the time he reemerged, if his past luck was anything to go by.

No matter. The state he was in, it wouldn’t take long, and then he could try and forget about the whole, sordid mess. After he’d murdered Garreth, of course.

He sucked a sharp breath between his teeth, bracing a hand against the wall as his mind flooded with thoughts of her, as it always did when he needed to attend to himself. He focused on the faint brush of her hand against the back of his when they studied together, her fingertips cool as she handed him a book or stack of parchment, each light touch sending sparks through his skin that never failed to stiffen his cock. He whimpered softly as he recalled those few times he let her embrace him, his attention always zeroing in on how her ample breasts pressed against his chest, his hands resting just above the curve of her hip. What he wouldn’t give to feel these things without the cursed barrier of her clothes…

And Merlin, the sound of her voice, low and rich, some sultry note always winding about underneath it, as if she was but a moment away from singing or whispering nothing but sinful filth into his ear, her dark chuckles, the freedom of her laughter never failing to set his heart to racing.

Then the scent of her hair… citrus and exotic blossoms from some far off, sun-drenched land infused his mind as he wished and wished he knew what it was like to have those silken strands fall over his face as she rode him.

Ominis fought with his belt and the fastenings of his trousers, unable to stop thinking about her, imagining all those things she could do to him that would only ever be in his mind. She was too good for him, too perfect, too glorious, but it never hurt to imagine. Imagination never hurt anyone. His lower lip found its way between his teeth as he took himself in his hand, instinctively setting up a rapid pace that, when he’d been this worked up before, had brought him blissful relief in little under a minute.

But something was wrong. He could feel his hand sliding along his length, feel the pressure as he tightened his grip, but it brought him about as much relief as sticking it in a jar of numbing potion would have.

“Oh, come on,” Ominis hissed, gripping himself tighter in a vain effort to evoke some of the promised euphoria such an act usually provided him, even going so far as to spit in his palm, but it didn’t work. To his horror, it served only to heighten his need, and brought him no relief.

✧˖°  ˖ * ˖  °˖✧

Almost an hour later, Ominis emerged, limping and red-faced, his breathing ragged and his hair dishevelled, his cloak pulled tight about his body.

“Well?” Garreth asked, eagerly, quill and notepad at the ready.

“Piss off,” Ominis snarled. “If you can’t get me an antidote in the next five minutes then what good are you?”

Sebastian shouldered Garreth out of the way and leaned in close.

“No better?”

“Fuck off. I don’t want anyone near me.”

“What about New Girl?” Leander piped up, clearly enjoying himself far more than was appropriate for the Slytherin’s suffering. “Bet you wouldn’t mind her being around you right now.”

Ominis spat a string of violent curses in Parseltongue at the thought of the Hero of Hogwarts assisting him with his predicament once again, before he tried to push away the idea as it sent another painful thrum of arousal through him. Unfortunately, the idea of her didn’t want to be banished and remained stubbornly inside his head, doing things no self-respecting woman would ever do, let alone to him.

“She hasn’t been new for two years,” Sebastian said, placing his foot firmly on Leander’s hip and shoving him away as Ominis clung to the wall, biting his tongue to stop himself groaning. “If you’re not going to help, then sod off.” He gripped Ominis’ shoulder, leaning close, and Ominis wriggled away, hissing as his skin tingled. “Mate, maybe he’s got a point. She’s good at potions, maybe she could do something about this? Plus, you like her, and she likes-”

“Never,” Ominis growled. “She can never hear of this.”

“Okay, then maybe we should get Professor Sharp, he’d be able to-”

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone I will kill you myself!” Ominis snarled.

It was getting decidedly hard to think, and Ominis huddled against the wall, bent almost in two as wave upon wave of rising need threw itself about his insides. If he didn’t do something soon, he was either going to explode or go completely insane. It was all he could do not to grab at himself, despite the fact that he was in public and he knew that it wouldn’t help one bit.

Sebastian shared a worried look with Garreth, whose eagerness to see the effects of his potion in action had worn off upon seeing how decidedly uncomfortable Ominis was. Yeah, it had been kind of funny to see him so embarrassed, but this was a problem. How could he sell his potion if the effects were this drastic, and didn’t wear off quickly?

“Maybe just… I don’t know, try and sleep it off?” Sebastian suggested, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry mate, I don’t know how else to help you.”

“I know a way you can,” Leander laughed, and quickly shut up as both Sebastian and Ominis glared at him, drawing their wands.

“Go up to the Room of Requirement,” Sebastian said, giving Ominis a little shove between the shoulder blades that made him yelp. “Garreth, you go too, there’s potion stations up there, and you better get to work on an antidote, or I’ll hang you off the Astronomy Tower by your balls.”

With a barely restrained whine, Ominis disillusioned himself and all but ran for the stairs, the outline of his figure vanishing as he rounded the bend. Garreth took one look at Sebastian’s murderous expression and followed, jotting notes on his parchment as he went. No sooner had he vanished than Sebastian took off, pelting through the castle, seeking the one person he hoped might be able to put an end to his brother’s suffering.

✧˖°  ˖ * ˖  °˖✧

“How long’s he been like this?” she asked, matching Sebastian’s pace as they hurtled towards the Room of Requirement.

“A bit more than an hour or so, I think,” Sebastian panted, struggling to keep up. “It’s really bad.”

She cursed under her breath, her long, dark hair swishing to and fro. “What did Garreth say it was meant to do?”

“Turn people on so they’re easier to get into bed,” Sebastian replied, glowering. “Or words to that effect. He wants to sell it ahead of Valentine’s Day.”

She made a face, her small nose wrinkling. “Creep. As if it wasn’t bad enough having to worry about love potions. Poor Ominis.” They slowed as they reached the seventh-floor corridor, and she glanced at him. “I presume he’s… um… tried the usual methods?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I guess so. Didn’t ask, he’s embarrassed enough. He’s going to kill me when he finds out I’ve told you.”

“Me in particular?” she raised a brow, and Sebastian hesitated. It wasn’t a secret to those who knew him well that Ominis was madly in love with the woman before him, but he hadn’t thought she’d figured it out. His silence seemed to be all the answer she needed, and a little smile touched her lips. “Leave it to me. He’ll be right as rain soon enough.”

“What are you going to-” Sebastian began, but she’d vanished into the Room of Requirement before he could finish. With a low sigh, he crossed his fingers, counted to ten, then followed, finding the large space mostly empty, save for a sweaty Garreth standing before a table of five cauldrons, each of them hissing different coloured steam. His nose was bleeding.

“What happened there?” Sebastian asked, and Garreth glowered.

“That cow just punched me,” he said, thickly. “Didn’t say a damn word and ran off to the bedroom.”

Sebastian grinned. “Can’t say you didn’t deserve it.”

Garreth wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Shut up and help me with these, would you? Whatever she’s planning, I hope it works, because none of these antidotes look promising right now.”

✧˖°  ˖ * ˖  °˖✧

Ominis twisted and writhed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. His clothes lay discarded on the floor of the small room, the light satin sheets of the bed dragging across his fevered skin as he desperately sought some form of relief from the blazing need surging through his body. But no matter how much he rutted against the mattress, no matter how fervently he beat himself, he couldn’t break through the barrier between desperate desire and the enduring numbness that denied him, over and over.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed. He couldn’t say how long he’d been tangled in these sheets, moaning softly as he chased a high that tormented him as it danced away, again and again. His mind was fragmented, consumed by a primal, visceral need for relief, for this aching agony to end, for the heavens to open and just please let him come.

So scattered was he that he barely registered the door opening, the footsteps hushing over the carpet as he gripped handfuls of his hair, curled in a ball on his side. But he heard the sharp intake of breath, smelled that torturously familiar scent that was so deliciously her, and his tormented mind took on a crystal clarity as pure, unadulterated panic flashed through him.

“No, no!” he gasped. “No, not you!”

She pulled up short, her brows drawing together a little as Ominis struggled to pull the fraying threads of his brain back together.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” he whimpered softly as another agonising pang of need surged through him, intensified by the fact that it was her standing there, and he curled up tighter, his hands tensing in his hair, trying to hide his shamed face as he tried to burrow under the sheets. “I… I don’t want you to see me like this.”

She was concerningly quiet for a moment, then her footsteps sounded once more as she approached, and Ominis bit down on a high-pitched whine as she settled on the bed, her weight pulling the sheets tight against his skin. He fought not to writhe, every nerve ending on fire as he curled up tighter.

“Please… please leave,” he begged. “I-I c-can’t…”

“This needs to be fixed,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “Ominis, you can’t go on like this. I want to help you.”

“Then get me a fucking antidote,” he spat, his limbs trembling as he fought to remain still. He didn’t care that he swore in front of her, something he vowed never to do in front of a lady, he was too concerned with retaining some miniscule shred of dignity. Shame and humiliation burned a torturous path through his body as he bit down on another low whine, his cock throbbing at the thought of her being so close to him, her beautiful scent, her delicious voice sending waves of primal desire through him.

She couldn’t be here. She had to leave, or he was going to do something they would both regret.

It seemed she either couldn’t sense the danger, however, or she didn’t care. She slid closer to him, a cool hand finding his shoulder, such a simple touch making his hair stand on end as he fought with himself not to grab at her. He had to maintain control, no matter how difficult. He was a gentleman, he was proper, he wasn’t one of those base louts that thought with their dicks and followed wherever they pointed, he was… he was…

Fucking hell. He was desperate for her.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder, pushing lightly, and little by little he uncurled enough to reveal his face, his skin flushed, his hair sticking to his forehead.

“You poor thing,” she murmured. “Will you let me help you?”

Her hand slid over his shoulder to his chest, and Ominis bit down on a whine. How often had he tormented himself with fantasies of this exact thing happening? It almost made him want to weep with the frustration of it all, because he knew all too well that nothing would come of this but further humiliation.

“P-please… don’t,” he whimpered as she peeled the sheets back, moving closer to him as she trailed her fingers over his stomach, the muscles contracting at her touch. “It won’t… it won’t d-do anything… I c-can’t feel-”

His next words were cut off by a yelp as the heel of her hand grazed the aching head of his length through the sheets, sending a surge of pleasure so powerful through him that it snapped his head back.

He could feel her touch.

His hands flew out, one latching onto her wrist, the other winding into her hair. She came to him willingly, her lips brushing his hesitantly for a heartbeat before he crushed his mouth to hers, moaning helplessly as she found his aching steel through the sheets, her palm curving around the shape of him.

Ominis launched up, hooking an arm around her neck, his free hand shoving at the covers. There was no longer room for hesitancy or fear or embarrassment – any last shred of lingering dignity had been eviscerated by her kiss.

All Ominis knew is that he needed to be held, to be kissed, to be touched, and to be fucked. Right. Now.

He shoved at the sheets covering him as her lips moved from his to lavish attention on the side of his neck, her hand travelling down his chest sparking through his nerves. A high, desperate whine escaped him when she showed no hesitation and wrapped her hand around his fevered length, the soothing cool of her skin a balm to his burning flesh.

Even through his maddening haze of desperation and need, Ominis was dimly aware of the inexplicable skill she displayed, each swift, twisting stroke of her hand designed by some omniscient power, it seemed, so perfectly did it make his body sing. Her pace was steady, her grip firm but not tight, and his mind went to pieces. In all his furtive, shameful imaginings of being with her at last, he had never once suspected that she would know just how perfectly to treat him.

She murmured gentle encouragement to him, her words a song of sin and fire as her touch sent him ever higher on a glittering ladder that seemed heaven bound. Ominis bucked helplessly against her, his hands alternately clutching and tugging at her clothes, knowing in some deep, primal way that the simple touch of her hand, no matter how glorious, would never be enough.

It seemed she understood this as well, for her lips left his neck, trailing down his body, each press of her lips tensing the muscles they touched. Something in the back of his mind set up a wild protest, the part of him that was still human underneath his frantic desire screaming that he would never live this down, but even this stubborn part of him was silenced when a searing heat enveloped him from head to base, hard at the edges and so deliciously soft in the centre, something long and dexterous winding about his entire length.

The sensation of her mouth on him in such a way pushed a yell that was almost a scream from deep within his lungs, flying up his throat so harshly that it roughed the edges of his voice, his hands flew to her head, winding his fingers into her hair and driving himself as deep as he could. He didn’t care that he might choke her, that he might make her wretch, he just needed more of that sensation, more of this heavenly feeling of pure euphoria.

She didn’t choke, and she didn’t retch. She tightened her lips, hollowing her cheeks and sucking hard, her throat closing over the tip of him as he threw his head back, yelping in wordless ecstasy. Her arms wound around his waist as his legs fell apart, anchoring them together as her head bobbed at a steady, rapid pace, and if Ominis had the gift of sight, he would have seen the entire cosmos.

"Fuck... yes..." Ominis gasped. "Right there... don't stop, please don't stop..."

And yet it still wasn’t enough. Though each swipe of her tongue drew a whining moan from his lips like silver thread, the pulsing of her throat in time with his racing heart, his body stubbornly refused to fall over the edge upon which he teetered. Almost rabid, Ominis gripped he hair, pulling her back up to crush his lips to hers, tugging at her clothes so forcefully that her blouse tore.

In response, she pinned his wrists over his head. He had no time to protest this as she straddled him in the next moment, leaning down to capture his lips with hers once more, holding him tight with one hand as the other slid down, grasping him firmly and angling him up.

Ominis could never have imagined the euphoria that he experienced next. One moment, he was aching, spit-slick and cool in the empty air, and the next he was enveloped in searing satin and silken fire. If her mouth had been the cosmos, this was heaven itself. He could barely draw breath to moan as she seated him fully inside her, and even through his primal haze, he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t understand it, that he, Ominis Gaunt, was being loved by her.

He thrust up with abandon, garbled pleas and frenzied, worshipful praise flowing from his mouth between urgent kisses, his hands held firmly above his head as she rode him like a graphorn. Her hair swung down, the silken tresses brushing over his face and chest like he’d always dreamed of. He began to feel a delicious, prickling heat pooling at the base of his spine, in the pit of his stomach, his skin tingling as he ran full pelt towards the edge. Something within him knew he needed to savour this, to commit each and every detail to memory as she herself released a soft, breathy moan, but that single sound, the knowledge that came with it being that he was making her feel good was too much for him.

"Fuck... fuck... FUCK! YES! YES!"

The spell was broken, the potion overcome as Ominis’ entire body went taught, his balls drawing up tight as he finally, finally came like a fucking hose. His head snapped back, his moans rising to echoing yelps as his back arched, his hands pinioned above his head as he writhed, the sensation so much more intense than anything he had ever experienced before, going on and on and on until he was certain he might go mad. But end it did, and he fell back, utterly boneless and exhausted, his breath trembling as his body quivered, the warm weight of her comforting as she settled to lie atop him, her lips soothing once more at his neck.

“Are you alright?” she asked, after some small time had passed. Ominis could only mumble non-words, his mind still scattered, his not quite feeling his body as he should now that there was this sudden absence of primal need. Little by little, the last few hours came back to him, and he felt his chest grow tight. Wincing as fresh shame burned a path through him, Ominis turned his face away.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he managed, his voice cracking. “Y-you shouldn’t have… my behaviour… I never should…”

“Hush,” she brushed his hair back, pressing a delicate kiss to his temple. “I was happy to, Ominis.” She pulled him closer, a hand at the back of his head, and he curled into her automatically, burying his face in the crook of her neck. The lingering ache in his body melded with his utter humiliation, contrasting bizarrely with a feeling of purest bliss. He held onto it, onto her, knowing that once she left this bed, this room, she’d never want to speak to him again. She had helped him, yes, but that was what she did. It wasn’t because she liked him. How could anyone like someone as depraved as him?

As if she could read his thoughts, she gave him a little squeeze, her lips brushing his ear.

“You know, I’d be happy to do this again,” she murmured, and he felt her lips stretch into a smile against his skin as his heart leapt. “With you, and only you. Only… let’s leave the experimental potions out of it next time, hm?”

Ominis was only too happy to agree.

[cursedonyx]

Aha!

Trying to stay ahead like some kind of goblin