Currently hacking up a lung from a stupid cold and listening to this song on repeat thinking about the boys. Enjoy a little drabble
AO3 || WP
“What do you think about when you think about love?”
“What?” Sebastian pushed himself up on one elbow, blinking down at the other boy sprawled across the tiny bed. His legs half dangled off the edge, his eyes turned upward towards the ceiling, glass-like gaze not quite focused on it but rather the infinite void behind his lids.
“I just,” Ominis started, rubbing at his left eye with the back of his hand. “Everyone talks about love like it's this magical thing. That when you fall ‘in love’ you'll just know and everything will be right in the world.” His brow furrows and he tipped his head in Sebastian’s direction. “Surely that's not what love truly is, is it?”
Sebastian flopped back against his pillow with a soft thump, the mattress springs giving way underneath him. A warm breeze washed oven the pair from the open window, stirring his thin curtains and brushing his hair. He had never really thought about love before, the word far too grown up when his mind was preoccupied with playing with Ominis in the woods and being a terror to his sister Anne.
His eyes also turned to the ceiling, trained on the soft glowing star he begged his uncle for a few years ago that felt exceptionally childish at almost thirteen. But the plastic shape was far easier to digest than the gaping philosophical abyss Ominis had welcomed into their sacred space, yawning between his ‘forgotten’ homework and the ever expanding pile of laundry he had to do.
“I don’t know.” Sebastian admitted after a moment, his teeth finding the inside of his cheek.
“Love is…” His mind drifted to the little things he enjoyed. “Well, I suppose love is the warm cookies your aunt always makes us, the gooey ones with the marshmallow centers.”
Ominis hummed, pondering.
“And it's that pond with the koi,” Sebastian gestured to the window, vaguely. “The one we go to when it gets too hot and we sink our toes in the mud.”
“Well that's not really love. We can't kiss cookies or marry a pond.”
“No, I suppose not.” Sebastian snorted before turning over, head resting on a bent arm to properly look at him. He traced the scattering of spots on the other boy's cheeks, the constellations he had once matched to the sky. A strand of blond hair had fallen out of place and Sebastian absentmindedly brushed it back into place. “I guess we must be too young for love then.”
Ominis didn’t answer right away. Outside, cicadas buzzed, chasing each other in the fading sun. Somewhere downstairs, a door creaked and Solomon shuffled in after a late night at this job or that. Sebastian let his eyes slip shut, soaking in the feeling of just being near his best friend.
When Ominis finally spoke, it was far softer. “Maybe love is when you feel safe.”
Sebastian's eyes opened. “Safe?”
“Yes,” Ominis shifted, fingers curling into the blanket. “Like when I know where you'll be without needing to call out for you. Or how you describe things to me in a way that feels like I'm not missing out.”
A soft smile tugged at Sebastian’s lips the same time something tightened in his chest.
“I'm sure that's what love would feel like.”
“If that's love,” Sebastian said, words jumbling a little awkwardly. “You sure have loads of it.”
Ominis let out a small laugh. “Yeah from you, maybe.”
“Of course,” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. “I love you too much to have you smack into a wall and embarrass me in front of the girls.”
“You're an idiot,” Ominis nudged him away.
The conversation drifted from there, the way it often did in those years. They started talking about the latest sporting drama, then about the absolutely awful haircut a classmate had gotten last week.
The sun dipped lower before disappearing along with the buzzing of the cicadas. It wasn't long after that Ominis started snoring against the pillow he so often commandeered. Sebastian laid awake, though, staring up at the dim stars and wondering what love would look like for him.
If someone were to ask him, years down the road, what love was, perhaps he would remember this afternoon. How neither of them could think of love without the other.
How, even before they had the language to describe it, he already knew what love was.
Heavy spoilers for The Inheritance Cycle and, of course, Murtagh. Grab some water, this is a long one.
INTRO
Since this is going to be about both the Cycle as a work and how my relation to it has shaped my thoughts and feelings and so this analysis, let’s start with the context of me.
Like many 2000s nerdy fantasy kids, The Inheritance Cycle was my favourite thing on the planet.
When I was nine and the movie just about to come out, my mum bought me Eragon. I finished it within a few days and read Eldest equally quickly. Brisingr was the first book I went to the shop to get on release day instead of having a parent pick it up for me, and Inheritance was when I discovered the concept of preordering. I finished it four days after release and was left with pretty mixed thoughts on the whole affair.
Not liking Inheritance felt bad. Amongst other things, I thought it was overly long, I didn’t like that Eragon found the cache of dragon eggs that would allow him to effectively Ctrl+Z the Fall of the Riders, I didn’t like how he was squared up to fight Galbatorix with a convenient stash of Eldunarya left next to said eggs so it became a battle of slugging it out, I thought Galbatorix was more lame than ever with his comically evil villainy and less than satisfying boss fight, and I was so, so frustrated at Eragon himself for being … him. He was perfect — a perfect Rider, a master swordsman, a master magician, the celebrated son of a great man, and now the leader of the Varden, what with Nasuada’s mid-book kidnapping, all at the tender age of sixteen or seventeen. He was so flawless that he’d become divorced from what made me originally like him; the last hundred pages of Inheritance were a trek and a half. Gak.
But, hey, The Inheritance Cycle was my favourite thing, so it’s fine. I buried my complaints and went on with my life …
And now Murtagh has landed and I have finished it, and it’s unearthed all these half-finished thoughts from my tween and teen years that I want to put to bed. And we’re gonna do it with an analysis on Murtagh as a character over the course of the original series, and everything in this new book about him and Thorn.
Hello @pierrot-dokki! It’s me! Your secret valentine! I love Gwynevere so much! She is a cutie patootie! I got inspired by this piece you did of Gwyn, Seb, and Garreth, and got a little carried away! I hope I did your girl justice and that you enjoy this!! <3
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Gwynevere couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly when the two boys had started acting strange. Maybe it was last Thursday in Potions, when Garreth noticed her knife dulling and, without a word, slid her cutting board over to his side of the table.
“You’re mangling the lacewing flies with that knife of yours,” he murmured, already chopping her ingredients along with his how. He worked through both sets, even knowing he would be the last to finish.
Professor Sharp made a pointed comment at the start of next class about managing ones time wisely and Garreth only grinned, nudging her about prioritizing what was important. Heat climbed up her cheeks like an eager little flame.
Or perhaps, it had begun two weeks earlier, during a graded match of Summoner’s Court.
Gwynevere couldn’t prove it, but she was quite certain Sebastian had twisted his Accio just a little too long on purpose. His final ball lingered dangerously close to the edge before it toppled off entirely. She was already 40 points ahead, so when he gasped dramatically, throwing a hand to his chest in defeat, all she could do was look at him with confusion.
She had won.
“Tragic,” he shook his head, though the corner of his mouth did tilt up ever so slightly. “A devastation I shall never recover from.”
Sebastian did not lose.
Odd.
Then came the books.
On Monday, she’d barely stepped out of the Great Hall, adjusting the strap over her shoulder when Sebastian appeared at her elbow, plucking the heavy bag from her arms as though it were a common occurrence for them. It wasn’t.
“I’m headed that way,” he shrugged casually when she protested.
Reaching History of Magic, Sebastian set her books beside her, bowing deeply with his usual smirk plastered across his face. Once he had made his leave, Ominis turned to her, eyes narrowed, and head tipped to the side.
“Was that Sebastian walking in with you a moment ago?”
“Yes,” Gwyn said, pulling out her textbook.
Ominis’ brow furrowed further. “Why on earth would he do that?”
Gwynevere shrugged. “He was being kind. I think his class is just up the stairs.”
“No,” Ominis shook his head, turning his full body towards her. “That makes no sense. He has Beasts in the morning.”
Well then…
The tipping point, however, came one frigid Saturday in late January. It was the rival game between the Slytherin and Gryffindor houses. Thin clouds stretched over a pale winter sky, promising another layer of snow to what already coated the grounds.The Quidditch pitch was already roaring with chaos, green and red banners snapped in the wind.
Gwynevere was, of course, bundled up in her usual Slytherin garb, head to toe in the shades of green. Yes, that was not unusual. What was though, was the vivid splash of Gryffindor red around her neck.
She had just been walking with her friends to the Quidditch pitch when her arm was caught by none other than the very person who had been helping her so much during potions.
“Garreth. What are you doing here?” She asked, glancing up at where the other girls had paused to whisper among themselves just up the path. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the game?”
“Yes, well, I was on my way when,” Garreth rubbed the base of his neck where his red and gold scarf hung loose. “You see, it is rather chilly today.”
Gwyn chuckles softly, looking at the light dusting of snow on the path. It had been a light winter, cold and frosty, but hardly any big snowfalls. “Yes, it has been cold.”
“And I just thought that you would like something to keep you warm. With how cold it has been.” With that, Garreth unwrapped the scarf from his own neck and gently secured it around Gwynevere’s, his warm fingers brushing her collarbone ever so fleetingly. The scarf was rather similar in design to her own, which she had neglected to bring with her, simple wool with his house crest and fringed edges. The soft material tickled her nose, filling her senses with the distinctive smell that one could only match to Garreth. Smoky, sharp with a hint of bergamot.
Gwynevere couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the smell, though she wasn’t entirely sure if that was because of the scent itself or the fact that it was Garreth she thought of. Nevertheless, she thanked the boy for the kind gesture and watched as his grin grew ever wider. The corners of his eyes crinkled rather adorably as he took a step back, his other teammates calling out to him.
Before he could fully turn away, Gwynevere grabbed his hand. The boy halted, eyes wide and cheeks flushing to rival the shade of his hair.
“Good luck out there.”
“Yeah,” he swallowed heavily, hand still in hers. “You as well. Well, not you too. You don’t play. Not that that matters! You don’t have to play anything! Oh, Merlin, I should go.”
Gwyn laughed as the redhead raced off, head shaking in embarrassment as he met up with the rest of his team. She started back up the path, fingers brushing over the soft fabric hanging around her neck. It was rather sweet that he cared for her so.
She could hardly meet her friend's eyes as they giggled about the display Garreth had given, fumbling and nervous. As she climbed into the stands, the ruby red streak against a sea of green, she couldn’t help but feel a little rebellious. It was thrilling.
The whistle blew, and the players shot into the air. Garreth snatched the Quaffle mid-air and dashed away. The cold bit at Gwyn’s cheeks, but she barely felt anything other than excitement as Garreth arched across the field, Quaffle tucked tight under his arm.
“He’s fast,” someone muttered.
He was.
A Slytherin Chaser cut across his path, but Garreth feinted left before twisting to the right at the last moment. He tossed the ball to another chaser before receiving a return pass. A second later, the redhead sent the ball careening into the right-most hoop.
10 points to Gryffindor!
Gwynevere found herself on her feet, cheering before she realized who exactly she was cheering for. She quickly sat back down, scanning the pitch for anyone else to look at. Her eyes landed on a familiar mop of messy brown hair, though far more windswept than usual.
Sebastian’s gaze was already on her. Not at her face, but the red and gold wrapped neatly at her throat. He twisted the bat in his grip before striking a Bludger zooming past. The ball swerved sharply before being intercepted by another Beater.
The game continued on, play after play, points climbing for both teams. Sebastian couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of Gwyn for long, far too distracted. He nearly missed the Bludger aimed at his ribs.
He twisted at the last second, the ball barely grazing the hem of his sleeve. It was close enough for Imelda to swerve over and cuff him on the ear. Gwyn couldn’t make out what was said, but she knew Imelda had knocked some sense into him, as when the crowd erupted from another score by Garreth, followed by a victory lap ending with a wink directed at Gwynevere, Sebastian seemed to snap.
He swung his bat at a passing Bludger with far more force than necessary. It ricocheted straight for Garreth. The stands held their breath. It just barely clipped his broom, sending him spiraling. He recovered quickly enough, shooting a glare up at where Sebastian was hovering. They held eye contact for half a second.
Then Garreth laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You should aim better, Sallow,” he called out, receiving the Quaffle and tearing off again.
Sebastian was hot on his tail, the match boarding on aggressive now. As Garreth flew towards the Slytherin hoops, Sebastian responded with a targeted aim at his left side. It missed, but forced him to swing wide. The Quaffle slipped from Garreth’s fingers and he fumbled. Imelda caught the ball and was off.
Garreth wheeled around, chest rising and falling hard, chasing after her.
The next ten minutes were relentless. Bludgers thundered back and forth, the Quaffle changed hands quicker than the spectators could keep up with. The other Slytherin Beater was knocked clean of broom and rushed off the field. One of the goal hoops had a chunk of wood shattered, bursting in a glittering cloud of snow and shrapnel.
Garreth scored again.
Sebastian retaliated.
He dove for the Quaffle, confounding the commentator. Sebastian ripped it from the Slytherin Keeper's hands and surged forward, weaving through players like he was on fire. He launched the ball into the center hoop and scored.
10 Points to Slytherin?
The stands exploded once more, Gwynevere among them. She was clapping, bright-eyed, flushed with excitement. Garreth laughed, turning to Gwyn. She laughed too, giving him a little wave.
Sebastian veered close to the Slytherin stands, close enough that Gwyn could see the flush of his cheeks and the intensity in his eyes. “You’re supporting the wrong team,” he called to her over the roar of the crowd.
She blinked. “I’m wearing green!”
“And red,” he shot back, giving a pointed look to her neck before he spun away.
Her fingers found the soft fringe, suddenly hyperaware of its warmth.
Down on the pitch, Garreth caught the quaffle in a pass between Chasers and shot towards the hoops again. Sbastian cut him off mid-air, their shoulders colliding. Garreth’s grin faltered as they exchanged a brief word, too low for Gwyn to hear.
Madam Kogawa blew her whistle, separating them as the gam continued.
The Snitch flashed, and both Seekers plunged.
When the tiny golden orb was finally captured, announcing victory for Gryffindor, Gwynevere’s heart hammered in her chest, far louder than the crowd. This match had become about far more than just house pride, and she was tangled in the middle of it all.
A sweet moment between Dad!Ominis and his daughter, Calliope Opal Gaunt!
~480 words || Tagging @rosewoodcafe and @whalesongsblog for enjoying my little snippets lol
~~~~~~
“Are you- Are you sure I should?” Ominis kept his voice low, his hands hovering in the air as though to catch a falling star.
Charlotte, smiling up at her husband, reached out one hand to gently squeeze Ominis’ palm. Her skin was flushed with exhaustion but her golden magic pulsed softly against the stillness of the room. She cradled their daughter to her chest, swaddled in soft linen barely a few hours old.
“She won’t break,” Charlotte signed into his palm.
His breath hitched, heart hammering as he sat next to the curve of her knee. Ominis felt wholly underqualified for this. He had never held a baby before, let alone his own. How was he supposed to hold his arms? Surely they would be uncomfortable for the babe. Too bony, too tense, too uncertain. What if he dropped her? What if he held on too tight?
Charlotte shifted slightly beside him, the duvet rustling as she sat up, her warm magic brushing against his. But it wasn’t just hers.
A second aura, pure and fragile, tickled at his senses, butterfly wings against his soul. Soft green, barely there, so faint it shimmered like a mist, clinging to Charlotte’s breast. As she brought the little bundle closer, his heart stuttered.
“Oh…” he breathed, stunned as she guided the little baby into his trembling arms.
She was so small, lighter and quieter than anything he had held before. He curled his arms instinctively, adjusting slightly so her soft head nestled gently in the crook of his elbow, his muscles tense with fear he would make a wrong move.
Then he felt her shift.
A tiny wiggle, her small hand slipping free from the blanket, reaching up for her father, brushing against the wool of his vest. His body tensed before melting completely. “Oh…”
Ominis found himself placing his index finger against her palm, little fingers tightening around his own in a grip that locked on to his very heartstrings. Five perfect little fingers wrapped around his own.
A beat passed.
And another.
Charlotte watched with tears clinging to her lashes, all the emotions coursing through her veins, as he slowly, oh so carefully, lowered his head until his lips brushed against her tender forehead.
She smelled of warm lavender, sweet milk and the kind of love that was pure and untouched by the world.
Her magic stirred against is, a breath, a flicker of green nestled within his ribs.
This was home.
Charlotte was his home.
Calliope was his home now.
“Hello, little one…” he murmured, voice cracking with tears. “I- I don’t know how to do this, but.. I swear to you, I will learn.”
And in that moment, as her heart fluttered in her chest, matching pace with his own, he realized something.
Ominis couldn't remember who the dare had come from. The game started off innocent enough: eat a pickle dipped in grape jelly (poor Poppy), jump in Grace's pool fully clothed (the warm summer evening dried Garreth off rather quickly, that lucky duck). Sebastian got dared to text in the student group chat that he was selling feet pics for $10 a toe with no explanation. His phone hadn’t stopped buzzing since. (Thank god for do not disturb…)
And then it was Ominis’ turn…
“Ominis, I dare you to go up to Grace's room and put on one of her skirts.”
The room broke into cheers and wolf whistles, herding him upstairs before he could protest, like a sacrificial lamb.
And so there he was, sat on the edge of Grace’s bed, fingers twisting the hem of his shirt as the others tore through her walk-in closet like wild animals.
“Nah, that one is too long,” Garreth chuckled.
“What about this one?”
“Girl, that’s ugly as fuck,” Imelda barked a laugh. “Where did you even find it?”
“I found it thrifting! It's vintage,” Grace huffed, snatching the god awful monstrosity away.
“Oh! Found it!” That was Sebastian who laughed in triumph as he presented his findings to the group.
“I didn't know I still had that,” Grace admitted. “It's the uniform from fifth year, it doesn’t fit me any more,” she paused. “But it should fit Ominis.”
“Here Ominis, put it on,” Sebastian teased, pressing the soft fabric into his hands.
Ominis sighed as everyone shuffled out, the door clicking shut behind them. The room fell quite as he smoothed his fingers over the skirt in his lap. It wasn’t scratchy like he thought it was going to be, the pleats a texture he seldom felt, crisp but soft. It was lighter than he thought too and smelled faintly of detergent and something… floral, old perfume, maybe.
He froze, something coiling tight in his abdomen.
It’s just a dare. A silly joke.
So why was he nervous?
He could refuse, they would understand. But would they? They would just dare him with something else or think he was being difficult.
Or scared…
Which he was…
His throat tightened.
It’s a skirt. It's just an item of clothing. Not that big of a deal.
Choking down the lump in his throat, Ominis stood, exhaling as his fingers brushed over the zipper of his jeans. This was it.
Ever so slowly, he unfastened his jeans, the thick denim pooling around his ankles. His toes curled into the plush carpet, one leg lifting to step into the skirt. Then the other. And finally, the material settled around his hips, his fingers pulling the tiny zipper on the side up along his hip bone.
The waistband sat tight against his stomach, not restricting…
Comforting…
A hug around his middle as the fabric slid down to mid-thigh, cool air kissing the hardly seen skin, making his breath hitch. He trailed the pads of his fingers down the material, basking in the softness, so unlike the jeans and trousers he usually wore.
It moved with him, for him.
The sensation was strange. He felt… free.
Ominis found himself standing straighter, moving his hips to test the way the skirt swayed. A small, half embarrassed smile tugged at his lips.
He felt right.
A sharp knock on the door startled him practically four feet in the air. Before he could call out, the hinges creaked as Sebastian shuffled in, still laughing at a joke someone had shouted up the stairs. The sound quickly died in his throat the moment his gaze turned to Ominis.
Both boys were frozen in place, neither daring to utter a word as Ominis curled his fingers around the skirt's hem, subconsciously pulling the fabric down farther. Sebastian's eyes darted downwards, following the way Ominis flattened his hands over the skirt. Any though forming on his tongue stuttered to a halt as he took in the milky thighs that seemed to glow in the warm light of the room, a scattering of moles trailed down lean thighs.
A feature the brunette had never noticed before.
Like a fish, Sebastian’s mouth opened and closed, sputtering out incoherent noises. There were no words that could describe the way Ominis looked now. The skirt had a gentle grey and green striped pattern that suited his pale skin and went surprisingly well with the cream colored jumper he had been wearing.
Catching his bottom lip in his teeth, Ominis tugged the fabric some more. “It’s too short isn’t it?”
“No!” Sebastian squeaked out, far too quickly. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward, eyes dragging slowly back up to Ominis’ eyes. “Not really… You look… good- amazing even… Honest.”
Those weren’t quite the right words but it didn't stop the flush that spread across Ominis’ face, not with embarrassment but something warmer. Brighter.
“I- I didn't think I would like it,” Ominis admitted softly, running his fingers along the pleats. Sebastian’s eyes followed the movement. “But it feels-” He paused, chewing on his lips again as he searched for the right word. “Nice.”
Sebastian nodded encouragingly, “I can tell. You look… lighter.”
Ominis lips stretched slightly wider as he dropped his head down to his chest. He hadn’t expected this, how it eased a weight he didn't know he had been carrying on his shoulders. He didn't need to pretend his body was anything less than what it was. His.
And it felt good.
He could feel tears pricking the corner of his eyes but before he could swipe them away, a set of warm hands wove between his own, squeezing gently as they pulled him into a tight hug. The pair stayed there for a moment, caught in each other's embrace before Ominis pulled back with a sniffle.
“You don't have to go down. If you aren't comfortable-”
“No, I-” Ominis smoothed down the pleats. “I want to.”
He didn't know how the others would react, what they would say. He didn't know if they would laugh or ignore. But for once, it didn't seem to matter as much. Not with Sebastian holding his hand.
As they turned towards the door, Sebastian nudged their shoulders together.. “For what it's worth… I think you pull it off better than anyone else.”
Ominis chuckled, shaking his head to rid himself of the remaining flicker of worry. “That's hardly a challenge, but thank you.”
But the compliment lingered, warming his chest as they stepped into the hallway to face the rest of the party.
I was thinking about cherry cola lip balm Ominis, as I often do, and how much euphoria that simple swipe brought him. So for today, I wanted to explore the idea of body euphoria, and the joy of expressing yourself in ways that might not conform to societal norms. Those small acts of self expression can be so deeply healing. They remind us who we are and most importantly, who we’re allowed to become.
Pov: Sebastian walks in on Ominis changing and *snap* he realized "why am I nervous seeing that?" Fits the whole: Ominis falls first, and Sebastian falls harder because it hits him in the face like an angry person, lmao 🫶🏻
Here you go my love! @sebentinuminis I hope you like this! It was super sweet to write the italic "oh" moment haha
About ~330 words
~~~~~~
Sebastian only needed to grab his textbook. It was a simple mission really… Enter, Retrieve, Exit. Nothing extreme. His mind was already working out the quickest way to write twelve inches on the uses of dittany that he pushed open the dormitory door without a second thought.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of light.
No, not light…
Skin.
Smooth, ivory skin kissed with constellations.
Ominis stood before his wardrobe, shirt hung loose on his shoulders, fabric slipping down his arms like a waterfall. The slope of his collar bones, the subtle curve of his spine, the way the soft lamp light traced the lines of his body as if wishing to admire…
Sebastian forgot how to breathe. His pulse stuttered, tripped over his heart and then took off in a reckless sprint. An unbearable heat curled low in his chest, twisting and licking up his chest like the embers of a fire.
Something inside him cracked, fissured, shattered…
Oh…
Oh…
A supernova exploded in his mind, a meteor striking the earth so violently it sent his entire world spinning off its axis.
He had seen his best friend a thousand times, shared a room with him for the better part of six years. Laughed, fought, bled with him.
And yet… never like this.
Never with an aching, breathless awe. A dizzying, terrifying want that clawed at his ribs and made his knees weak.
Ominis turned slightly, tilting his head towards the open door. “Sebastian?”
Sebastian swallowed thickly around a lump in his throat, the shape of words he dare not share out loud. Wiping sweaty palms along his trousers, all he could muster was a faint breath of acknowledgement.
“Are you alright?” Ominis quirked a brow.
No.
No, he was not alright.
Everything he knew was crumbling.
Crumbling to reveal that without a shred of doubt…
Hi Hels! @honeyxmooncalves I hope you enjoyed all my asks this month! It was so much fun getting to know more about your characters and you! You are such a sweet and amazing person! I hope you get everything you wished for today! I LOVE YOUUU!!!!
Now, without further ado, may I present:
Christmas at the Melrose's!
Snow drifted lazily outside the windows of the Melrose home, each pane frosted with the shroud of winter. Cream candles floated lazily in the air, surrounding the giant evergreen tree that was far too large for the space, its branches thick and lush, filling the air with the scent of pine and spices. On the stove, a pot simmered with bundles of cinnamon and rosemary, slices of sweet orange, and whatever else Soren and their mother mixed together.
“Sera, is the garland ready?” Noelle turned to the brunette from her spot by the tree, hands full of metallic tinsel. Seraphina smiled up at her from where she sat cross-legged on the soft rug, tucking a long strand of white behind her ear, holding out the long string of cranberries. “Perfect!”
Handing the tinsel to Saiph, who looked utterly confused as to what he was supposed to do with the threads, Noelle expertly wrapped the garland around the tree. They decorated slowly, Seraphina floating ornaments filled with lacewing flies into place as Cordelia draped ribbon like trails of moonlight. The fire crackled in the hearth as they sorted through ornaments, discussing the meaning behind each. Salt dough figures the siblings made when they were far younger than they are now. Enchanted feathered bird chipping holiday tunes that their father gifted to their mother for the first Christmas they shared together. Each one a memory of where they had come from.
Seraphina paused as her fingers found the mother-of-pearl moon, the one they got when they went on holiday to the coast a few years ago. Her mind wandered to the eyes that mirrored the moon's shining surface. She smiled and hung it on the tree with care, excited to see those eyes once again after the holiday.
Then it was time for the tree-topper.
An annual debate over who would place the star on top.
As always, Noelle felt it should be done the “muggle” way, while Soren thought it would be far easier to use his magic.
“No! Tradition is tradition, Melrose.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “You’re tall and I have good balance. So mount up.”
Soren sighed with exaggerated reluctance, but if you looked closely, you could see the soft curl of his lips as he crouched in front of his fiancée. Noelle scrambled onto his shoulders, wobbling only a little as he braced her legs and stood.
Seraphina handed Noelle the star, a brilliant glass piece charmed to pulse like the real things. Stretching higher, Noelle placed the star perfectly atop the grand tree and the whole evergreen seemed to shine just that bit brighter.
“Oh,” Cordelia whispered, leaning into Seraphina. “It’s beautiful.”
“It truly is,” Saiph stared at the tree a moment. “I am so thankful to be with you all this time of year. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.”
The room settled into a warm lull, Saiph’s words lingering in everyone’s hearts, before a knock came snow-muffled and rhythmic. Seraphina’s breath caught before anyone else reacted. She had always loved carolers, how their voices rose into the night air, filling the snow-crusted earth with joy and wonder.
She was already on her feet when her father glanced at the entryway from his armchair. “We weren’t expecting anyone. Were we, love?” he murmured to Mrs. Melrose.
Seraphina crossed the room quickly, socked feet sliding a little on the polished wood. She pulled open the door and froze.
Because it wasn’t carolers at the door.
It was Ominis Gaunt.
Snowflakes melted into his pale hair and along the trim of his dark winter cloak, a small brown paper-wrapped parcel tucked under his arm. His head lifted at the sound of the door opening, a soft smile graced his features as he took in her presence, cheeks rouged red from the cold. “Seraphina… I hope I am not interrupting.”
She shook her head and took a gloved hand in both of hers, squeezing warm reassurance. “You’re never a bother,” she whispered, her breath curling in the air. “Come, Mother and Soren are just about to finish dinner.”
Ominis inhaled, the spiced air flooding his senses, as Seraphina led him inside. “I didn’t want to intrude on your family’s holiday,” he murmured, shrugging off his coat. “I just… You talked of Christmas in a way I’ve never known. I wanted to know what that could feel like.”
Warm palms met his cheeks, and Ominis couldn’t help but melt into her touch like the snow in his air. His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into her touch, lips turning to graze the heel in a gentle kiss. Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat, her feet shuffling closer to Ominis.
“Darling,” Mrs. Melrose called from down the hall. “Who's at the… Oh! Hello, dear.”
The hands slipped from his face, instead curling around his hand once more. “Mum, this is Ominis,” Seraphina said, her cheeks flushed, though not from the cold. “He is… a friend from school.”
Mrs. Melrose smiled, beckoning the pair in. “Well, it is lovely to meet you, darling. Come, come in and get cozy.”
As they made their way into the sitting room, the quiet chatter from the others drifted towards him.
“Ominis,” Cordelia’s melodic voice called out to him. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” he murmured.
Cordelia shot Seraphina a knowing grin before dragging her brothers and Noelle into another conversation, giving the pair space. Left alone, Seaphina led Ominis toward the grand tree. The lacewings shimmered softly, illuminating the space in gentle greens and golds. Taking the package from his hands, she crouched down to place it below the tree with the other neatly wrapped gifts.
Ominis paused, his fingers brushing over the prickling branches. “It’s beautiful,” he said, a soft smile gracing his lips.
“You haven’t even seen it.”
“I don’t need to. It has your signature.”
“My what?”
“The magic,” Ominis wrapped his fingers around the pearlescent moon, tracing its smooth curve with the pad of his thumb. “It feels light. Happy. The way yours always does.”
Seraphina’s heart swelled at his words and a flush warmed her cheeks. A moment passed, and the pair simply stood close, the rest of the room fading into a gentle murmur. Ominis’ hand slipped from the ornament to her wrist, fingers brushing delicate circles just about her pulse point.
Then something shifted.
A faint rustle, soft leaves brushing against one another, drew her attention upwards, towards the ceiling. She blinked, then smiled, breath hitching with amusement. “Ominis, I think we’ve been played.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “Played?”
She lifted his hand, guiding it to the smooth, waxy leaves. Small white berries brushed his knuckles. “Mistletoe,” he breathed, recognition dawning in his voice.
“Yes.”
The air changed, but Ominis didn’t pull away. Instead, he stepped closer, his free hand finding the small of Seraphina’s back. “Is that… something people still do?” he asked quietly.
“Only if they want to,” Seraphina smiled, tucking her white strand behind her ear.
He stood still for a moment, contemplating. Then his thumb resumed its gentle caresses. “Would you want to?”
Instead of answering, with cheeks darkened with color, she leaned in, closing the distance. He followed instinctively, guided by the quiet pull between them. Their foreheads brushed. His breath ghosted over her lips.
The kiss was gentle, unhurried. Ominis’ lips pressed against her own, warm and softer than she had anticipated. When she kissed him back, he exhaled slowly, fingers curling into the fabric against her back as though anchoring himself in her presence. The kiss only lasted a few heartbeats before he pulled away, pressing his forehead to Seraphina’s again. His hand remained at her wrist, thumb brushing once more.
Above them, the mistletoe shimmered faintly, leaves glinting before they vanished entirely, dissolving into falling snowflakes as if it had only existed to bring them together.
Across the room, Noelle adjusted her wand in the pocket of her skirt, sharing a look with Cordelia, biting back a smile.
“Finally,” Soren whispered far too loudly.
But Ominis and Seraphina didn’t hear it. The only world that existed was the warmth between them.
“Merry Christmas,” Ominis whispered.
Seraphina smiled, her eyes bright and heart full. “Merry Christmas.”
~~~~~~
I hope I did your babies justice and that you love this little short story!
Professor Onai met with all her seventh-year students one by one on the final day of class, a tradition she started her first year of teaching. No one knew what happened when the trapdoor shut, only that the select few who made it that far into her class seemed to leave happier, brighter, lighter. Sebastian had expected as much and had taken to lounging near the foot of the ladder with Poppy. They chatted idly, about the future, what predictions Professor Onai would make or if she would just offer sentimental farewells and sound advice on their future.
They had already passed their exams, a weight off their shoulders and, though Sebastian would never admit it, not to Poppy and certainly not to Ominis, he found himself reminiscing of all the time he had spent in the stuffy classroom. There was something oddly reassuring in the hushed ritual of it all. The incense curling through the rafters, clinging to his clothes, how Ominis would scrunch his nose when he returned to their dorm. The bitter tea that stung his tongue with its tannins and florals. The polished crystal balls that shimmered like moons.
The ladder creaked. Andrew Larson descended, a dazed, lovesick grin plastered to his face as he nodded dumbly towards Sebastian. “Your turn,” was all he said before turning towards the Hufflepuff.
As Sebastian climbed, he heard Poppy laugh softly, testing Andrew about all the cheesing.
The last thing Sebastian heard before the trap door shut with a muffled thud was Andrew’s breathless murmur, “Want to go to the Three Broomsticks with me? After graduation, that is?”
The room above was dim. Heavy curtains bloated out the sun, leaving time to the wandering void. Candles flickered, casting a warm glow around that room that at its center sat Professor Onai, poised on one of the red velvet poufs, her crystal ball resting before her, coated in mist, pulsing faintly, as though breathing with her every breath.
“Mister Sallow,” she murmured. “Sit.”
Sebastian obeyed, lowering himself onto the opposing cushion, the fabric sinking underneath his weight. Before he could speak, Onai reached out, her fingers warm and soft as she took his in her own.
“Your amortentia. What is it?”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
She inclined her head, regarding him with that piercing gaze. “You know what I mean. The scent. What do you smell when your heart is bare?”
Heat flared up his neck like spilled ink. He knew all too well what scent that damned potion manifested for him.
“Parchment,” he began hesitantly, “and amber… I think. And- er,” the last scent always caught him off guard. “Pine.”
Sharp. Clean. Unmistakable.
Onai hummed thoughtfully, her eyes closing briefly. “Yes,” she said. “Strength, Refuge, Resilience. One whose soul is threaded into yours. Tightly woven through fire, shadows and grief.”
Sebastian swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. Her gaze locked with his own again, peeling back layers he hadn’t known were exposed.
She began to hum a low baritone, the sound vibrating his core like the ringing of a tuning fork. The crystal ball flared brighter and brighter until it consumed all shadows and Sebastian felt himself leaning in.
A pale face stared up at him, streaked with grime and tears. Glassy eyes and hollow cheeks. He cleaned the mud with the cuff of his sleeves and laughed as he helped the boy stand.
The next vision was quieter, the Slytherin dormitory. Sebastian’s head rested against the boy’s side, a book opened as he read aloud the history of goblin rebellions. Slender fingers combed through brown curls, distracting Sebastian in his study.
Another memory, another set of tears, Sebastian’s body curled tightly into the other's chest, sobbing for things he could never undo. A sister he had failed, a version of himself he had lost to his ambition. And the blonde boy held him through it all.
Then the image shifted.
No, these weren’t memories.
Not exactly.
The door cracked open and there the boy stood, dressed in a soft skirt, hands curling into the hem. Beauty marks trailed up his thighs like constellations until they disappeared entirely under the material. Sebastian had never noticed them before. Had never seen him like this before. But Merlin, he couldn’t look away.
The crystal rippled, surface shimmering again.
Neon lights flashed, foreign music pounding like a second heartbeat. Sebastian wasn’t quite sure what this was. But the boy was there again, lips shiny, dark, soft. He held a red cup and smiled up towards Sebastian. He reached for him instinctively, feeling electric.
Again.
Dust settled in his vision, a cursed shop brimmed with twisted artifacts. Sebastian caught his reflection in a warped mirror, older, harder, worn, a shell of his former self. A bell chimed behind him.
The boy… No, the man was unreadable. An aura forged in the fires of agony surrounded him, clouded eyes like the harshest of steel. Sebastian turned towards him, heart thumping against his chest, not out of fear but of twelve long years of longing, of dreams left buried beneath ash. His pulse knew the truth before he did.
And again.
A vast expanse of water filled his vision. An ocean. Boots clinged against the metal of the deck as the man came into view, far different than before. A massive scar dominated one side of his face, a ghost eye a souvenir of battle. The other, blue and flecked with green. Utterly devastating and made Sebastian’s chest tighten. The uniformed man reached out, thumb grazing his freckled cheekbones. Their foreheads touched, a perfect match.
The images began to fade, the light dimming as Sebastian found himself string into the glass, his own reflection. He was so young, barely entering adulthood, unsure of everything, his path, his worth, his future.
When Professor Onai’s eyes met his once more, he knew for certain, in every fiber of his being.
In every lifetime, there was not a world where Sebastian Sallow was not in love with Ominis Gaunt.
Then. Now. Forever.
As Pride Week comes to a close, I wanted to reflect back on all the Sebinis fics/one shots I have written as well as how deeply this ship has rooted itself in my heart. Sebastian and Ominis are one of my all time favorite pairings! There’s something so beautiful about their best friends to lovers dynamic and even bffs to enemies to lovers (my personal fave)
What makes Sebinis so special to me is the complexity of their relationship and how many different ways we are able to show that! They can be a soft and tender love story or a toxic, messy entanglement where their flaws crash into each other. I love shaping these boys into something real and vulnerable. I don’t think I will ever be done with them…
