ellie

18+ “there’s no time like the present” - someone important, probably

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

pro tip for college students:

for those of you who also need some whimsy to make it through life, think of finals as N.E.W.T.s. studying feels less stressful if i imagine i’m an ambitious witch with a promising future in medicine instead of a low-income college student fighting tooth and nail to make things work. st mungo's better watch out because i’m showing up regardless of whether it’s as a healer or a patient

stay hydrated and warm in these uncertain and chilly times ♡

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

anyone else wish there were more fan made content for smallville!lex luthor? i am such a huge lex apologist and believe he deserved so much better as a kid. that aside, i swear i can fix him. i don’t even care that he’s bald. something about michael rosenbaum as lex is just 😩

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

we all know sebastian is a moody little man and likes having the last word in an argument. in a modern au, sebastian would take 0.5 pictures of ominis when he’s mad at him and would have a smug collection saved under “revenge”. he wouldn’t ever verbally or physically retaliate because ominis totally saved his ass from azkaban, but he takes his wins when he can

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

poppy sweeting is 100% the type to make sims of her friends. more importantly, she’s the type to make a sim after someone, have them go for a swim, and take away the ladder when she decides engaging in physical violence simply isn’t worth it. nobody ever finds out, but that’s actually how she manages her frustration with people

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

♬ manifesto - sign crushes motorist, think of me once in a while, take care - take care ♬

healing from heroism

ch. 2

i wake with a splitting headache and the feeling of experiencing a nightmare i can’t quite remember. i haven’t a clue what hour it is or when i had fallen asleep, though that’s not exactly new for me lately.

the stuffiness of the room mixed with the shared body heat, incessant buzzing from my sleeping limbs where sebastian lay, and a soggy blouse from a night of weeping nauseates me. my clothing clings to my skin and leaves an awfully uncomfortable sensation of tight and swampy dampness. trying my best to not wake him, i shift sebastian on his side so i can slip out from underneath him and climb off the sofa.

he looks most peaceful when he’s asleep and it hurts my heart a little to admit that. even more so to note that this is likely the longest he’s slept uninterrupted in a week.

i plant a small peck of a kiss on his forehead and fix a blanket that i don’t recall using back over him. i dim some recently lit braziers nearest him to keep the room dark as that’s when he sleeps best.

it’s likely far past curfew, but i can’t go another minute with this heavy, unclean feeling. i gather a few items in my arms and exit the secret room. the clock concealing the entrance reads 3:14 am and i remind myself to be cautious of my steps or light as to not wake the portraits or alert peeves. side from that, i don’t even bother using a disillusionment charm as i begin the trek to the fifth floor. even if someone did confront me, it’s so far into the year and there’s such a clear divide between house points that nobody cares much about minor offenses.

i’m long overdue for a bath. my hair is starting to clump together at the roots and my hygienic routine has suffered tremendously under the constant cloud of aloofness and downpour of self-loathing.

thankfully, i’ve made a habit of keeping spare clothing in the undercroft for the many nights like this. i spend more time in the undercroft with sebastian or in the room of requirements than i do the rest of the whole castle nowadays. after muttering the password to the prefect’s bathroom, a small secret i picked up while stalking the grounds under disillusionment, i begin running the water and soaps.

i retrieve my toothbrush and paste from my toiletry bag and diligently brush away the plaque and acrid taste and smell of my breath. the relief is instantaneous as the mint leaves behind a cool tingling. i fixate my eyes on the sink, no wanting to meet my own in the mirror. i can’t pinpoint why, but seeing my own reflection as of late is equivalent to a punch to the gut. shame, hatred, embarrassment, the exact feeling evades me.

i set aside a simple set of pajamas and find a towel before peeling off my uniform and leaving it to pool on the tile.

the frigid air makes the escape into the water heavenly as i wade around the still-filling bath. just knowing i’m in soapy water eases my mind and the pressure causing my headache. the suds smell so fresh, almost sweet, as they surface and adhere to me.

all of the tension and stress seems to evaporate, ebbing as i let my body rag-doll against the wall of the tub. the temperature difference creates wafts of steam where the water and air meet and it humidifies the scent, filling my senses like a warm and numbing sedative.

a long bath is where i tend to ponder most. i think back to the last thought i remember before drifting to sleep. obliviation. suppose one can’t really miss the life they have when they can’t remember it. i could just return home then. free of being a keeper, free of the burdens i carry from all the battles. no ancient magic, no wand, no hogwarts. it’s selfish, i know, but i think i deserve to be a little selfish right now.

my peers haven’t even known me one year, so i don’t believe they’d miss me too badly. even if they did somehow find me, it would be like starting over fresh. of course that leaves sebastian completely by his lonesome… and ominis with only a very broken sebastian since anne had shut him out as well after solomon’s death. poppy without a confidant, natty without a companion, garreth without a partner in crime, and amit without an academic enthusiast to motivate and receive motivation from.

someone else would emerge eventually to fulfill the role as keeper, i’m sure. just as i had.

my mind slips into recalling some of my most riveting first memories here. meeting with professor fig, my first interaction and duel with sebastian, the swell of pride and excitement that came with getting my very own wand. i was so thrilled when i had learned my first few spells. magic holds such beauty-

there’s a slight glisten that catches my attention from the corner of my eye that ripples and glides with the movement of the water. no, not magic, the sheen of the soap and bubbles. for months, i have explored every inch that i could of this world and it all felt so surreal, every knickknack on the professor’s desks or simple blade of grass emanating a swell of energy, an unmistakable and irreplaceable level of richness that seems to be partial to places where magic is openly used. hell, i’m sure the dust in the corner of stitches and draughts has seen more magic than any novel in the muggle world could think up. this, however, despite the glimmer, is so unapologetically normal. nothing about these bubbles hold enchantment. even the way they levitate and pop midair is horribly mundane, sobering.

this all feels wrong. it’s almost as though the longer i stew in the water, the more that my place in the wizarding world is being leeched from and erased; as though the realization that something here is devoid of whimsy tears a hole through each thrilling memory, leaving behind drab experiences overcasted by stubborn refusal to acknowledge the glamour. perhaps it’s just my mood and negativity, but it’s something i can’t shake.

i feel more down to earth, more cognizant of the bigger picture of my life and time here. not in a way that i’m distant from it, but rather that i have the keenness of a bird’s eye view. though it’s strange to feel so tethered to one’s self while being so weightlessly suspended in water, it’s as real and as human as i’ve felt since i arrived on these grounds.

the clarity and lucidity of this moment are beyond the corporeal sensations of my adventures: my feet as they had rhythmically padding along the halls with bustling classmates as i rushed to a much anticipated class; the proof of my beating heart as my breath had rapidly exchanged with shallow gasps of stale, cold air while the muscle in my chest constricted and thudded against my rib cage, forcing blood to whir past my eardrums as i escaped through the woods to save my life on more than one account; the warmth beneath the feathers of a hippogriff as i flew one for the first time; the rush of being overwhelmed as each of my senses were assaulted by my surroundings amidst a battle.

if i had any less sense, i’d be halfway convinced this is all some sick dream. some exacerbated figment of my imagination that came about by long nights in bed wondering how the world is fated to end or what could have been if i lived in another universe. but it’s not. and this is sickeningly concrete.

i use a cloth and scrub my skin down, as though the abrasiveness would strip me of my abilities to perform otherworldly witchcraft. my relatives, and many others in the town, would believe any bit of my spellwork to be devilry and perhaps they’re right in a sense. no other kid in my hometown, with or without a twig in hand, would be able to do what i can. maybe my parents should have taken that as a sign and suppressed the truth like every other levelheaded muggle family trying to conceal the almost visible excellence exuding from their child, the microscopic bits of charmed stardust coursing through their veins.

not even in a school where i’m meant to be, where all sources of divination and sortilege and prophetization would lead me to, pacifies this notion. the sheer irony of being outcasted, by self or otherwise, in the place i was destined to be since birth to be leaves me with an abhorrent sense of being condemned by my own future, damned by the moirai.

magic hangs stagnantly in the air around me, inescapable, like a magnetic yet foreboding augury of my inevitable demise, minimized to become only the memories in a live portrait after my passing. as individual as this ancient magic defines me to be, i don’t want my life to be defined by being a keeper. i can’t spend my life here protecting something i don’t understand, but i also cannot return home. i can’t be the hero that professor weasley and professor fig wish i could be.

i wonder how my story was twisted. how the sequence of events were fabricated to falsify or deny existence of ancient magic. how is it my peers know me for heroism alongside the staff without knowing the means i endured for it? my name won’t be memorialized on a badge, forever fated to be glanced at in passing as future students learn of ancient magic and all it had entailed because instead, i’m forced to bear witness to everything i’ve done being washed away with praise for falsehoods. whether or not to be thankful my ability’s need to be kept under wraps, i have no clue.

my success came from aid and efforts from others. i would have died alongside my professor in that repository if not for the staff of the castle appearing in the nick of time.

i have no idea what i plan to do, but since when is that new for me?

numbly, i finish my bath and don my pajamas. carrying my soiled uniform in a wad, i reluctantly pick up my wand and try to ignore the connection. there’s an undeniable tie to a witch and her wand, but maybe if i convince myself it’s only a placebo, i can think of it more like a weight i’m bound to carry instead of the lifesaving tool it’s proved to be.

i make by way back to the hidden corner of the defense against the dark arts tower and enter the swinging interface of the grandfather clock. i shouldn’t be as surprised as i was to see him, but ominis stands near the centre of the room looking as tired as i feel. sebastian is now upright on the sofa, slowly picking at a plate as their conversation quickly ends.

guilt and betrayal takes hold as i realize i feel better now that i’m around them. my plan to leave them both behind, especially now that he’s willing to come around and speak to us again, leaves a bitter taste on my tongue and a sickness within that lingers. merlin, how i’ve missed him.

“i brought you a plate,” ominis begins, shifting on his feet, evidently unsure how else to begin a conversation with me. “i noticed you two weren’t at supper… or lunch or breakfast. i convinced a house elf to prepare you both a meal after i found you asleep earlier.” when there’s nothing else said for a few moments, he awkwardly continues with an explanation. “i’m sorry. to both of you. i’ve heard throughout the halls how rough you two have looked, if even spotted to begin with, and i couldn’t push off speaking to either of you for any longer. i obviously don’t approve of what happened with solomon or the resolve, but i needed a few weeks to myself as i figured things out while i was covering for sebastian on the ministry side of things with my family ties,” ominis pauses and falters momentarily, his face frown deepening. “it’s been covered up as a tragic and untimely passing in his sleep…”

i nod and take a moment to let this settle in. my train of thought is very happily deterred from grief to thinking about having my friend back in my life. truth be told, i’m elated that ominis is here to begin with, let alone that he wishes to extend an olive branch as he is now. things won’t bounce back, but things were rocky since his absence. sebastian and i began to drift with silent resentment, fear, and anger.

although it wasn’t me that caused solomon’s demise, i played a part too large to be ignored. stupidly, i encouraged sebastian along the way in pursuit of anne’s wellbeing, neither of us knew when or how to stop the snowball effect once it had begun. ominis being so understanding and patient makes this all whole lot worse. we had continued to take advantage of his love for us to the point that he literally covered a murder up for our sakes. it’s been eating me alive that i begged and pleaded for him to return to the family he despises to ask for favours. we, sebastian and i, have been rightfully getting the cold shoulder for a few weeks now and i was sure the freindship between us all was done for. we knew we deserved it, anyhow.

i walk a little louder so he can hear my footsteps before i pull him into a hug. when he embraced me back, the muted buzz that masked voices and the dull colors that replaced my vision lessened, bringing more precision to my senses. for a moment, i just hold him close, making sure he’s here for real and not that i fell asleep in the tub.

“truly, i cannot thank you enough, ominis. i can’t express how fortunate we’ve been to have you. more than that, i’m so regretful to have put you in that position. you have been of such tremendous help and we owe you one like no other.” out of the corner of my eye, i can see sebastian nodding along to my thanks, likely having just given his own before i came back. ominis relaxes a little more and when i pull away his tense features melt, joyed to be back with us and to be properly acknowledged for his sacrifices. “i can imagine it was difficult and that your family didn’t make is any easier, but because of that, we both understood your reason for needing space and forever we will be indebted to you for keeping seb out of that awful prison. it was beyond unfair for me to ask such a request and have you choose between your morals and your friends.”

from the sofa, sebastian stands and clears his throat.

“while you were out, i told him about the uhm.. repository and stuff. about what really happened with it all.”

i had forgotten entirely that ominis was never told about my connection to ancient magic. i swore sebastian to secrecy about it and he was the only other person that knew of it, even without the details that only professor fig was privy to. i suppose i always believed he told ominis about it to some degree sometime along the way because of their closeness. i feel awkward and put on the spot considering how insincere it sounds to have ominis be ‘confided’ in now considering the three of us kept very little secrets, if at all, and everything regarding ancient magic has already been fulfilled. before i have an opportunity to apologize for keeping him in the dark about such a monumental matter, he spoke up with understanding.

“i’m not hurt to know you never told me. it stung a little to hear of it after everything has all been said and done, but i don’t fault you. this wasn’t your secret alone to keep and if it was a secret powerful enough for the amount of bloodshed it has caused, i can only offer my condolences for the loss you’ve suffered and that i couldn’t have been more help to you. of course, i won’t speak of it, but the weight of this burden doesn’t have to be carried by your lonesome.”

even stifled by my moods, i have a little more faith in my future knowing i have friends like these two. of course, i have poppy, amit, garreth, and natsai, but they couldn’t possibly get me the way these two do.

hi, hi, hello ! i’m not dead, i think, but it’s been a hot minute since i’ve posted. talk about life drama… not really much going on here and it doesn’t flow very well, but to be fair, this was mostly written a couple months ago in the middle of the night over several of my shifts at work. i’ve considered posting on ao3 just to motivate myself to write more often, but i’m not sure if i can handle the ao3 curse right now. if you’ve read this far, thank you thank you !

as always, open to any feedback and tips ! i have a pretty good idea of where i want this to go, but don’t be afraid to comment or dm with input :)

stay happy and hydrated,

xoxo ellie

[trulybetty]

pinterest tag game

tagged by the lovely @jomiddlemarch 💕 I love Pinterest tag games!

Rules:

NPT's for the following: @wildemaven, @gnpwdrnwhiskey, @secretelephanttattoo, @mysterious-moonstruck-musings, @maggiemayhemnj, @rhoorl, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @javierpenaispunk, @shirks-all-responsibilities, & @nerdieforpedro

If I didn't tag you and you want to play along, consider this me tagging you in and tag me in your results! 💕

[rosewoodcafe]

Hehe thanks for the tag @ravenwind-75 :))

Annnnnddddd

@shyamanuensis @espressoristretto-patronum @butternutt613 @lottie-loves-you @xcaffeineandcuddlesx plus anyone else that's wants to do it :)

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

thank you @rosewoodcafe for the tag!

<3

tags: @butternutt613 @newdreamlove95

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

♬ i bet on losing dogs - mitski, your best american girl - mitski ♬

healing from heroism

ch. 1

- evening, the undercroft -

“do you… think i’m good?”

the question stuns me. it’s not perplexing, nor unsurprising, but i’ve never considered it. of course, objectively, i believe he’s good. he’s sebastian sallow, for merlin’s sake. headstrong and making sacrifice after sacrifice even if it’s not his own because he’s relentless, driven by love. he’s always had good intentions no matter how he achieved what he wanted. even if it meant lying to his best friend. even if that meant manipulating people like me. even if it meant killing his uncle.

“i’m sorry?” i ask in return, unsure if i heard it correctly.

how could i not? it’s silent otherwise. merely a low crackle of a fire in the undercroft’s makeshift hearth and a ticking clock somewhere, but it’s just us. I shift to face him more directly as we lounge on a sofa, the tall stacks of books and some miscellaneous homework long forgotten as we had drifted into thoughtful silence.

i can see the misery, though. his downcast eyes being filled with such despair, such conflict.

“please, i need you to be honest with me. am i good?… am i a good person?” his voice cracks and it’s a painful reminder that things weren’t supposed to happen as they did. not that either of us needed another reminder.

the end of our fifth year is coming too quickly to an end. the classes are becoming shorter, more of a blur as the days fade away like smoke in the wind. it’s disorientating and the disassociation we’re experiencing is weighing heavily on every aspect of our lives. most days, it’s like i’m floating through the halls, like i’m in a weird sensory deprived dream as the faces and voices turn unrecognizable, like muffled buzzing, not even sure of the day of the week. the o.w.l.s came and went, i think, and now the both of us are left wandering the castle, trying to pick up the broken pieces of our youth.

the students are ecstatic about the upcoming summer, and every mention of their plans gouges a small part of me out, carving deep until i’m hollow. i hear them talk over meals about their family’s summer houses or trips they’ve planned, the promises of exchanged owls and slumber parties. all the while, i’m being congratulated by faces i’m not even sure i’ve seen.

my first year introduced into a world of whimsy and i become the “hero of hogwarts”. most have no idea the things i had to do to earn such a title. it’s made me sick. physically, mentally, emotionally sick. the late nights, overloaded course work, expectations, favors, expeditions with classmates, watching the cruelty of poachers, raids, battles, trials, death threats from adults in full confidence of them knowing i’m only a student, the blood on my hands.

i couldn’t just stop it once i had begun. i couldn’t just return to safety behind the castle’s walls and resume classwork as though the safety of every man, woman, and child in the school, neighbouring towns, and highlands were at stake and i was the only one trusted to, expected to, and even capable of coming to the rescue.

i didn’t sign up for this. neither did he.

we weren’t supposed to face the world the way we did. we weren’t supposed to do the adult’s jobs, no matter how grown we believed we were. we weren’t supposed to be heroes, we were supposed to be kids.

that’s what we are; kids.

he’s just a boy. a crestfallen, scared, mournful, alone, and traumatized boy.

so now isn’t the time to define what “good” means or to explain that the world isn’t comprised of black and white or “good” or “bad”, but of horribly muddied shades of grey that are entirely up to perception. he doesn’t want to hear about the intricacies of morality. he wants to be reminded he’s still capable of being loved.

i can’t possibly look at him the same way. nor can he look at me the same he did at the beginning of the year. i’m nowhere near a saint, but perhaps our histories is what makes us perfect for each other. after all, the pot shouldn’t dare be the one to call the kettle black.

“of course you are, seb,” i attempt to soothe him, mustering as much emotion as i could. he nods, hearing what i said, but not as through he believed it.

the conversation was difficult to hold after that. i knew he wanted to say more. he wanted to repeat his offenses and for me to kiss away the worries anyhow. he wanted to remind me of what he’s done and push me away, to self sabotage his growth to have an excuse to hide away like a recluse without shame. he wanted- no, he needed more. he needed someone, now more than ever. he needed me. needed to be told he’s human beneath it all, that his blood bleeds red the same as everyone else’s and isn’t tainted black like he believes. he needs to be reminded that he not only can be loved, but that he is.

it’s been especially hard since ominis has left us to our own devices for now, needing a break to rationalize his life and choices. neither of us can blame him.

i feel… nothing. nothing at all and everything all at once. i’m spread thin. i’m doing all i can to be here for sebastian and still preoccupied with my own life and loss. professor fig died. he died and i know it wasn’t because of me, but if only i was a little quicker, a little stronger, a little wiser. if only, if only, if only. i knew him for only a few months, but he’s been paramount to my new life. he was a beloved teacher that truly dedicated his time to the betterment of his students. i feel that his avoidable death is pinned on me. i was supposed to a savior and his blood has stained my hands like all the others have. what good are my abilities if i can’t even save those that help me? what good are they if i can’t even maintain normalcy?

nothing has been the same. not me, not sebastian, not ominis, not anne, not the faculty, and certainly not my relationship.

we’re closer than ever, i suppose, but how close is close when each of our minds are wandering light years apart?

sebastian fiddles with the corners of the parchment he’s been toying with for the last hour. it’s another drafted letter for anne. an apology, first step towards reconciliation, a goodbye, self-justification, explanation, i haven’t any clue at this point with how many he’s written.

he’s defeated and solemn, like how you would expect a kicked puppy to look: vulnerable and strangely still trusting despite it all. he looks the part, too. his close are wrinkled, eyes are sunken and devoid of the typical glint of happy mischief, cheeks stained with hours of silent tears, hair tousled, his nose reddened from the constant weeping-induced nose running, and lips chapped from dehydration.

there’s no book that could ever teach someone to manage this type of pain, this level of compiled guilt and shame. we weren’t born with the know how on gluing the pieces back together one by one when your entire world falls apart.

so i do the only thing i know i can to help. i take the note from him and set it down, the ink having long been ruined with blotched mixes of tears and ink, and pull him into a hug.

the sound he makes, heart wrenching, is never one anyone would expect to hear from him. halfway between a choked sob and stifled breath, he lets his face fall on my shoulder and unashamedly breaks.

his body convulses, racked with forceful and raw barks of pain.

i have to blink away several tears myself as he crumbles, what little composure he had left tearing and ripping at the seams. the lump in my throat is hard to ignore as i fear it may strangle me soon. he grips at the loose fabric of my uniform where he’s hugging me, grounding himself to the only constant he has in his life right now.

with one hand making small strokes up and down his back, i use my other to smooth down his hair, holding him close to me.

“i didn’t mean to… i didn’t want to become a bad person,” he manages through shaky breaths and hiccups. “ca-can’t even go home now. haven’t got anyone else to go to.”

“i know, baby, i know.”

i couldn’t maintain a brave face for him and began to sniffle. we were a mess. holding each other and breaking down like the world was ending because for us, it was.

when it’s just the two of us, hero of hogwarts and brave (former) best duelist of the castle, we could let our facade fall away, knowing nobody else could truly grasp the weight on our shoulders. we don’t have to be a formidable duo when it’s just us. we don’t have to pretend like the other isn’t broken seemingly beyond repair.

i eventually lean back, letting him lay across me as he cries until my blouse is soggy. until he’s exhausted and limp.

i try to quiet my whimpering to not wake him, but i can’t help but think of where i’ll go after this. even if i do go back home, my parents wouldn’t understand, they couldn’t possibly.

i’m so different from the person i was merely a handful of months ago. my hair is shorter, poorly chopped after being singed too many times in battle, and my hands are rough with callouses and scabs. i’m unsure how much of my former self i still resemble. at the very least, i know that i have more skin covered in scars than i do freckles and that i have new muscle growth from the running, climbing, borderline parkour, and combat.

i definitely don’t think, act, or speak the same way i did before. i’m not the same bright and eager little girl my parents had proudly gushed over when i received my letter. i can’t go home like this and risk breaking their hearts. i can’t just resume my life like i haven’t done the things i’ve done.

i remember reading of a spell called “obliviate”…

not too sure what i want to do with this yet, but i have an idea of where it’ll go ! i have a bit more in writing, so it may become a mini series of sorts? i’m not sure how well i like this prompt, but i wanted to put it out there anyhow because broken seb is my emotional support animal rn.

please give any feedback and tips you have !!

there’s so much potential with both of their stories and i know angsty seb is popular, but there’s more to him than masked anger and guilt. he would be hardest on himself and begin a downwards spiral, searching for validation that he’s not as bad as he thinks he is.

don’t get me wrong, i love a good seb x mc that’s joyful and loving, but i also love to put characters into hypothetical snow globes and shake it real hard.

stay happy and hydrated,

xoxo ellie

[butternutt613]

WIP WEDNESDAY!

Thank you @leaswhum for the tag! I loved reading your little snippet! I can't wait for more!

Here is mine!

Diana stood at the water’s edge, her bare feet sinking into the white sand. The waves lapped at her ankles, leaving behind glowing trails as they retreated. Even the ocean itself sought to cling to her presence. She lifted a hand, fingers outstretched, and beckoned for the sea. The tide returned swirling and lapping at her ankles as though she was a part of it.

Extending her hand toward the sky, the water rose in a graceful arc that caught the final rays of the setting sun. Like liquid crystal, the water shimmered, refracting the light into a cascade of colors. A brilliant rainbow unfurled across the twilight, bridging the gap between the heavens and the sea, pulsing with hues more vivid than mere mortals could comprehend.

And then-

The rainbow exploded into thousands of shimmering stars, each droplet igniting as it drifted upward, embedding itself into the darkening heavens. The sky inhaled, and the stars settled into their place, constellations of Diana’s own making. Unique and as brilliant as her.

The sea had given birth to the cosmos.

And Ominis could do nothing but watch in reverence.

She was not yearning for riches. Not for power. Not even for love.

She was dreaming in creation.

NPT: @whalesongsblog @amethystandemma @shyamanuensis @ravenwind-75

[shyamanuensis-deactivated202605]

Ahhhh! thank you for the taggg! I have a couple of headcanon WIP's I'm fiddling around with however - here's a bit of a fic that I'm slowly tapping away at.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” “Sort of. It’s complicated.”

Beauxbatons blue - symbolic of tranquility, dignity, and decorum. All the things that I am not. Well, not anymore. My 7th and final year was meant to be about having that delicate balance of celebrating the end of an era of education, deciding on a future path, and discovering myself through experimental independence. Unfortunately, however, here I am; dressed in an almost powder silk light blue uniform standing out like a sore thumb amongst a sea of disturbingly mundane robes of black and gray, starting a new year; in a new environment, at a new school, I’d really rather not be in.

The conversation I was having; expected ‘new girl’ questions rapidly fired out to be met with near pre-rehearsed answers on my behalf was with a Hufflepuff girl named Poppy Sweeting - Hufflepuff; what a ridiculous concept. Poppy was well sweet; given her namesake. Short in stature with fresh roasted coffee-coloured hair; her eyes lit up bright with delight, her voice rising almost a half octave with every word she plucked from me. Professor Weasley, I believe it was; had assigned Poppy the task of giving me a tour of the castle as a new transfer student - albeit, very, very different from what I was familiar with back at Beauxbatons. The task was something it seemed Poppy was determined to take seriously, or well as seriously as she could while we roamed through the corridors of what she referred to as the Dark Arts Tower; her continuing to hunt for gossip.

“Complicated like - the two of you are secretly in relationships already when you met?” “Oh no”, I cut her off abruptly with a chuckled scoff; a bitter taste registering in the back of my throat at the thought, “Think more… summer fling.”

Poppy nods along to what I’m saying and I can tell inside that head of hers the cogs are turning with more than just an innocent grind - she’s staring out into space, her brows slightly furrowed and her cheeks are puffed out in what I can only presume due to her silence is concentration.

“Oooohh, how romantic - a summer fling with a Frenchman.” Poppy’s voice has an almost lullaby, sing-song kind of tone to it and she plays the perfect part of damsel lost within the pages of a young-adult fiction with how she clasps her hands together, bringing them to rest on her chest with a soft sigh.

“Actually, no - he was Scottish.”

This tidbit of news seems to tweak something within her immediate train of thought and the smirk that dances across her lips is vastly different from the sugared smile she wore not long before.

“Oh really? Is he our age? What’s his name? Does he attend Hogwarts? Perhaps I know him.”

I chuckled at her eagerness and decided to answer without answering, with an aloof and indecisive, “Maybe.”

tagging: @whalesongsblog @sanguineslytherin @writingsoftarnishedsilver @carpenoctxrn @xcaffeineandcuddlesx @rypnami @newdreamlove95 and anyone else of course who would like to do this because i'm freaking terrible with tags.

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

thank you so much @shyamanuensis for the tag !!

(go follow her ! she’s like my online idol)

here’s a snippet of what i’m working on right now ! (yes, as in currently writing as i got this) :)

a one shot, kind of. might use in a later fic.

context: ending of fifth year. mc and sebastian try to figure out how they can live with themselves and each other after the sheer amount of grief, regret, and disgust they’re feeling. mc contemplates how much the “hero of hogwarts” title is truly earned and sebastian battles with his inner turmoil after he grieves the death of his uncle and loss of his sister.

please ignore any typos or inconsistencies !

~

“please, i need you to be honest with me. am i good?… am i a good person?” his voice cracks and it’s a painful reminder that things weren’t supposed to happen as they did.

the end of our fifth year is coming too quickly to an end. the classes are becoming shorter, more of a blur as the days fade away like smoke in the wind. it’s disorientating and the disassociation we’re experiencing is weighing heavily on every aspect of our lives. most days, it’s like i’m floating through the halls, like i’m in a weird sensory deprived dream as the faces and voices turn unrecognizable, like muffled buzzing, not even sure of the day of the week. the o.w.l.s came and went, i think, and now the both of us are left wandering the castle, trying to pick up the broken pieces of our youth.

the students are ecstatic about the upcoming summer, and every mention of their plans gouges a small part of me out, carving deep until i’m hollow. i hear them talk over meals about their family’s summer houses or trips they’ve planned, the promises of exchanged owls and slumber parties. all the while, i’m being congratulated by faces i’m not even sure i’ve seen.

my first year introduced into a world of whimsy and i become the “hero of hogwarts”. most have no idea the things i had to do to earn such a title. it’s made me sick. physically, mentally, emotionally sick. the late nights, overloaded course work, expectations, favors, expeditions with classmates, watching the cruelty of poachers, raids, battles, trials, death threats from adults in full confidence of them knowing i’m only a student, the blood on my hands.

i couldn’t just stop it once i had begun. i couldn’t just return to safety behind the castle’s walls and resume classwork as though the safety of every man, woman, and child in the school, neighbouring towns, and highlands were at stake and i was the only one trusted to, expected to, come to the rescue.

i didn’t sign up for this. neither did he.

we weren’t supposed to face the world the way we did. we weren’t supposed to do the adult’s jobs, no matter how grown we believed we were. we weren’t supposed to be heroes, we were supposed to be kids.

that’s what we are; kids.

he’s just a boy. a crestfallen, scared, mournful, alone, and traumatized boy.

now isn’t the time to define what “good” means or to explain that the world isn’t comprised of black and white or “good” or “bad”, but of horribly muddied shades of grey that are entirely up to perception. he doesn’t want to hear about the intricacies of morality. he wants to be reminded he’s still capable of being loved.

i can’t possibly look at him the same way. nor can he look at me the same way. i’m nowhere near a saint, but perhaps our histories is what makes us perfect for each other. after all, the pot shouldn’t dare be the one to call the kettle black.

~

ellie, they’ve already gone through enough, can’t you just let them enjoy their last bit of school before mc has to return to the muggle world and sebastian is at a loss without any family to turn to?

no. no, of course not. there’s so much untapped emotional depth to these students and i plan to make everyone feel how gut wrenching this story should have and could have been. whump is so underrated :)

if you’ve read this far, stay happy and hydrated

tags of some authors i’ve recently enjoyed and you should check out (hopefully they’ve not been tagged already): @applinsandoranges @rosewoodcafe

xoxo ellie

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

ominis, self-assured but wary of relationships no matter the extent of his admiration.

he’s internally battling himself on the daily, torn between his lover’s sweet nothings of reassurance and the detrimental ideals and feelings of inadequacy his family tried to instill in his youth.

he doesn’t care about blood status, in fact, he would prefer someone that isn’t a pureblood just to stick it to his family.

he wants nothing more than to be committed entirely to each other, wishing he only had a last name he was proud to give to you, a name he would be proud to prolong with a family of his own.

he holds so dearly your attention and endearment, but keeps distance for the first few months of your relationship, wanting it not to ruin him if you decided a gaunt wasn’t worth entertaining.

he’s getting better with learning how valued he is, but cannot help the nagging thoughts of insecurity. he understands how different it must be to adjust both a romantic and casual life to accommodate a lover with one less sense. you think him foolish to believe you ever cared.

ominis can’t say he struggles with blindness, only that he wishes for your sake he had sight.

to take you to your favorite museums and experience them to the fullest, to watch the sunset with you - he hears it’s beautiful but would say it almost certainly pales in comparison to you if anyone mentioned them, to see the love that fills your eyes when you look at him.

oh, the things he would give to see your smile instead of settling to hear it in your voice.

neither of you require grand gestures to feel appreciated, so your love is made apparent through actions, though not lacking in words.

his heart melts when you started replacing your typical paints with textured ones. he was infatuated, running his fingers over your detailed works and following the stoke patterns so often it began to wear.

he would commission matching jewelry, imprints of your fingerprints onto a pendant. he loves the tactile reminder that you’ve entrusted him with a piece of your identity, and his with you.

should you want a pomegranate, he would be ever eager to peel one, uncaring of how long the task would be. he would let his admiration show for you with the stains of garnet on the pads of his fingers and beneath his nails. he doesn’t know of it, of course, but you find comfort in the fact that he carries his passion for you on his own skin; such a form of intimacy.

not without practice, he learned several styles of braids so that he had a place in your daily routine, beaming when you tell him he would make a wonderful father to a little girl.

his clothing in need of mending? it began as a one time thing, he found you practicing fonts with your threads and asked you to embroider your name so he could feel it. now, every time you fix a piece for him, he soothes himself on his worst days, caressing his fingers along the inside of his button down’s cuff where your name resides.

he would memorize the notes of your favorite songs, practicing endlessly in private to be able to fill your shared space with piano instrumentals.

in a modern world, you would surprise him with a personally made audiobook of his favorite novel. he listens to it as though it contained the secrets of the universe.

you two would roam the isles of a craft store, searching for the best textures to make matching dual-sided, no-sew throw blankets from. he revels in the peace of mind knowing that when it’s not your arms around him, he can still sleep with your warm embrace.

never letting you run cold, even if he had to hide his reddened fingertips in his pockets, his coat would be more yours than his at this point.

he would always replenish your favorite perfume once you ran low, secretly buying a second vial to use on his pillows and bedding when you’re away.

he would let you stand on his toes while you danced if you didn’t know how, any excuse to keep you held close.

ominis is such a kind lover, endlessly devoted.

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

in the shadow of the study - but more realistic

4.9k, notes at bottom :)

content: crucio, unforgivable curses, salazar slytherin’s scriptorium scene, ignorant sebastian, ominis’ trauma, hint of ominis x mc at the end if you squint reaaaaal hard

trapped. a dead end. of course it has to be a dead end.

i don’t know why i keep letting sebastian convince me into doing these things. infuriatingly and effortlessly swaying my stubbornness, my morals, even.

- morning, the great hall -

footsteps and light chatter fill the silence of night, or at least what i thought was still night. i should really get a watch.

not contrary to popular belief, waking on the stone floor of the castle in front of placerby is more embarrassing than one would like to admit. however, when you’re already past curfew, don’t want another detention, can’t make it to your dorm without being caught, and just barely make it back alive, it’s really not as bad as it sounds. the sideways glances from students and professors last mere moments, the soulless and beady-eyed stare of those damned spiders will last forever. i almost shudder at the visual permanently engraved into the deepest part of my brain. the several blank eyes, twitching pincers, legs and abdomen covered in coarse hair. the things i’d do to never see a spider again.

following the ever-so-pleasant wafting fragrance of elf-made breakfast, i try to ignore the grime settled on my skin. the sweat of my extracurricular activities (i.e. running from creatures of the night and collecting parts of their corpses because i may need it in the future for some reason, you never know) is clung to me like a gritty, uncomfortable hug. as i walk, i swat at my clothing in an attempt to futilely brush away the stains from a quite adventurous evening before my unceremonious nap of shame: smears of dirt, patches of greens and yellows from taking a few rather hard tumbles in grass, tinges of blood, and… i don’t even know what that colour is from.

the doors of the great hall are open and the typical morning cliques trickling in, sitting at their respective tables like clockwork. i take a seat at the far end of the ravenclaw table away from the early study group, too distracted to take notice of me anyhow. i dip the corner of a napkin into a water chalice to clean my hands and face before eating, the very least i could do before i’m able to bathe, and grimace at the accumulated brown and grey on the napkin as i do so. fortunately, i don’t have to be seen by many as most students are not out for the morning meal - must be a weekend.

i serve myself from the ornate bowls in the centre of the table that are always towering with food, picking at some of the fresh fruit as a low whistle of an owl alerts me of an incoming letter. strange, as it’s a bit early for typical mail.

the stationary is as basic as it comes, but the scrawl of my name makes the sender clear. i can’t help but wonder what kind of trouble this will land us in today; first sneaking past faculty, then an explosive spell in a private hideaway, and i doubt we’ll be on the hunt for daisies this time.

i pressed ominis regarding salazar slytherin’s scriptorium, but my efforts were in vain. meet me outside the slytherin common room. we need to talk.

sebastian

the note is neatly folded and slipped in my pocket next to an unfortunately crunchy stash of lacewing flies - i ran out of specimen jars.

mulling over my to-do list for the day, i finish off my breakfast and begin the trek to my safe haven away from prying eyes. i cautiously enter the manifested as i make a mental note to move my collection of forage-able items from my dorm trunk into the pristinely organized cabinets of the room of requirements when i get the chance. i stow away my goods and am undecidedly thankful that the room picked up on my lack of proper hygiene, unsure if i should be grateful or insulted.

one long soak in a bath and refreshing change of clothes later, i slip a few more wiggenweld potions into my robe pockets, having grown a habit to carry at least a few on me at all times. knowing he’s not one to be kept waiting, i slip out of the concealed room and find myself fretting over whatever plan he intends to set into motion. not even in the magical world does “we need to talk” mean a good thing.

far too many steps later, my willpower is as weak as my legs. sebastian sallow stands in wait, perfectly poised with a hint of defeat about him.

“you’re here. brilliant,” sebastian greets me as he unfolds his arms.

“i received your owl. what happened with ominis?”

“i told him none of us will be able to avoid dark magic forever. so the more we know about salazar slytherin and the dark arts, the better prepared we’ll be. unfortunately, only a gaunt knows the location of the scriptorium’s entrance and ominis won’t tell me.”

i can already dread the direction of this conversation, knowing for certain that i’ll be stuck between two well intentioned best friends. my heart truly aches for sebastian, having been told of his twin sister’s catastrophic malady. it’s grossly unfair, her still being only a teenaged girl and having experienced the loss of her parents, being homed with a less-than-ideal guardian, being cursed viciously and without reason, and enduring debilitating pain on the daily while being separated by her school and other half. he’s not explicitly asking me to help, but i know he’s hoping i’ll at least nip at the bait.

for anne.

“hmm. perhaps i should have a chat with ominis.”

sebastian seems as though my offer was unexpected, but warns me nonetheless that ominis is not one to be easily won over, even via means of inveiglement.

sebastian keeps looking over at me as he guides me to where ominis is, his bold attitude and coolheadedness faded into one of uncertainty, like he’s waiting for me to attest my persuasive skills, to ensure i would be able to get him what he needs to save his sister from agony. i can’t say i blame him. he advises my caution as we pace the corridors, lone save for a few ghosts, as he recounts our nearly-mission-ending interaction with peeves.

he lingers behind, wishing me luck as he sends me toward his friend at the corner of the hall. i almost pity him, ominis. falling prey to the dangerous whims of his best friend, holding strong beliefs regarding dark magic given his family and personal history with it, yet also having lost a companion to something possibly reversible by the use of it. what a shame this is how i spend my days, between a rock and a hard place, unable to enjoy the wonders of an unexplored world as i familiarize myself with wonders only thought to exist within the pages of fiction novels.

“what are you doing here?”

ominis isn’t exactly unwelcoming with his question, merely curious what business a ravenclaw would have in this part of the castle. that, or sensing that i’m not here to gab about the weather or where i can locate a poffle of puffskeins for no student in particular. he automatically, and rightfully so, suspects sebastian and i have conspired. wanting firstly to rectify a recent encounter, i begin with sincerity.

“i owe you an apology, ominis. i wasn’t honest with you before about the undercroft. sebastian did show it to me.” with a bit more of an explanation, ominis’ stern expression slackens as he returns my honesty with openness. it only makes me feel worse as i lie to him, playing at ignorance earn his favour as he tells me about his missing aunt, his beloved rock to which he used to steady himself amongst the thrashing sea of pure-blood obsession and cruel disregard and casual if not enthusiastic use of dark magic that was his family.

“that’s a bit unnerving…” i reply with concern that is far from an act, looking back down the hall to where sebastian is waiting for me for expedite his search. i have to remind myself that it’s for anne. i don’t exactly want to spend all day here, but ominis is still practically a stranger to me and is freely telling me about how his aunt tried to do right by the family, convincing them that dark magic isn’t necessary and how it costed her the ultimate price soon after she found and entered the scriptorium. i stupidly give a spiel about not being certain history will repeat itself, and i hope for our sake that it doesn’t, and use the newfound details against him. “this could honour her memory” i physically cringe at the clear manipulation tactic, hoping to instill that more good than bad will come about this venture, though i don’t know if that is truthful.

ominis instructs me to fetch sebastian in such a way that implies he knew in full confidence that sebastian was lurking only down the hall. as the two bicker, i set aflame the braziers as told. almost foolish in design as this scriptorium was not kept behind a thoroughly hidden entrance. have the professors always unanimously agreed that these specific braziers had no business being lit? nonetheless, i descend the stairs as they appear from behind a wall, silently smirking at sebastian’s unbearably dumb pun about ominous corridors.

just ahead, i spot a ruined wall mount. a decoration, maybe. been there, done that. i pull out my wand to repair the rubble as i notice a journal entry. i pick up the parchment and hold lumos to the page, reading it aloud for ominis. as i finish, his aunt’s name footing the page. this could have very well been the last thing she had written before her demise. sure that it has significance to ominis, i cast repairo on the scattered chunks of the decor on the ground and walk forward to hand the page to him before he adds an ever curious remark to sebastian’s description of the repaired picture. it’s of a serpent. shocking no one, as it is a slytherin founded room.

“that must be the voice i hear?”

the voice? it shouldn’t be surprising ominis is a parselmouth given his lineage, and yet i’m intrigued by the confession. he explains he hasn’t spoken it in many years but it’s worth a try. the snakes move simultaneously, eyes glowing an expected green hue and slithering apart to untie their coil of a lock as ominis speaks begrudgingly in the language he sought to leave behind.

it’s dark. no that it’s any different than the room before, but as we walk forward, the dank air envelops us like a chillingly bad feeling and the darkness of the maze-like stone walls leaves me feeling unsettled at best. ominis notes that salazar most likely wanted this to be difficult to solve and as if on cue, in a horribly un-comedic timing, the door we entered through locks itself closed.

there really isn't any going back now then, huh?

the grey stone walls are adorned with twisting columns, a few gates with almost indiscernible symbols. lumos provides the three of us sebastian and i enough visibility to examine the gates, not giving way to any amount of pressure or spells used against it.

upon finding a second journal entry, i begin lighting whatever brazier i find on the wall, illuminating a rather peculiar snake statue. the symbols are similar to the ones on the gates and upon my touch, the metal serpent springs to life with a threatening hiss.

i bite back a yelp, now unsettled and startled.

the serpent, now still, but upright begins to… tick? it rotates in place as i examine it, wondering what this has to do with the scriptorium. without warning, the snake springs from the swivel as though it had become alive again, launching itself toward me and biting harshly into my arm. the blunt teeth of the statue pierce into my flesh, deep enough to bleed, but shallow enough that prolonged pressure should cease the flow. i take a moment to recuperate, ensuring the two worried boys that i’m fine, just that i’m a little surprised. not willing to risk it again, i reach into my robe for a painfully familiar almost neon green solution. i sip at the small vial, watching as the wound slowly heals, but the blood remains, soon to crust. it seeps into the lines of my palms, the ridges of my fingerprint, dripping from my arm onto the floor in quiet “pit-pat”s. part of me wonders if that was the difficult part; to draw blood for entry. when nothing happens, no movement other than myself and the two others, i’m back to square one.

it takes me a moment to calm myself and then another to put two and two together to solve the lock puzzle. i need to match the symbols below the snake to the symbols on the gates.

the next few are the same: match the symbols and the gate unlocks. simple. again, easier than one would imagine. a first year could do this.

as we, i, navigate the locks and paths of the maze, collect more of the journal entries, and try to ignore the duo’s unhelpful comments, sebastian speaks up with something worth listening to.

“i spotted something ahead. looks troubling.” another snake?

the braziers suddenly lite and the gate behind us slams shut again. the watchful yet unmoving stone eyes of the snakes atop the columns peer down, almost tauntingly.

trapped. a dead end. of course it has to be a dead end.

i don’t know why i keep letting sebastian convince me into doing these things. infuriatingly and effortlessly swaying my stubbornness, my morals, even.

i don’t know if it’s the sudden blood curdling scream that came from nobody in this room or the soul crushing sight of a skeleton next to the fifth and final leaf of yellowed parchment, but i begin to feel nauseated. sebastian and i read it, finding myself unable to do so aloud.

i’ve lost hope. i’m locked in. i heard a scream and saw the tortured faces. the only way forward is with an unforgivable curse. even if i wanted to cast it, i have no one upon whom to do so. salazar slytherin created a malicious challenge indeed.

in my last correspondence to my brother, i’d invited him here. now, if he looks for me alone, i’ll have led him to his death. despite our differences, i wish him no ill. i wish we had parted on better terms.

noctua gaunt

“ominis. a skeleton. and noctua’s last journal entry. she mentions being trapped here - blocked by an unforgivable curse.” sebastian’s voice is low, filled with sincere compassion and grief for his friend’s loss.

“this - is where she died,” ominis began with a breath before continuing with more emphasis, “this is where we’ll die. i shouldn’t have listened to either of you.”

if i had known, i wouldn’t have listened either. i’ve seen corpses before, now more than ever in my life. more than i’d ever hope to see. human, goblin, creatures, and animals alike, but this, seeing the remains of someone that meant something to someone, a loved one to a fellow student, i couldn’t imagine his pain.

“ominis. i’m truly sorry about your aunt. but, i know what to do. it’s going to be difficult.” sebastian turns to me with an explanation, a guess, an educated one at that, but that doesn’t help ease my nerves in the slightest. he suggests ominis to follow through with the curse, somehow forgetting the conversation detailing his utter disapproval of the unforgivables, but especially the one cast against him. i think he’s lost himself. he expects me to ask ominis about it as though we aren’t a mere 10 feet from him. i’m astonished that he would ask such a thing. surely we can do something else. anything else.

i offer to be the one to ask, at least knowing i wont be as pushy as sebastian.

“i overheard you and sebastian, and i won’t do it. the cruciatus curse is pure torture. i would know… one always has a choice. i’m as guilty as the worst of my family. unforgivable curses won’t work unless you really mean them. i had to want to cause pain. and for that, i shall never forgive myself. that spell is the reason i have no family left. you and sebastian will need to sort out another solution. if you cast crucio, you will regret it forever.”

as i return the news that he likely just heard from ominis anyhow, sebastian claims he’s ridiculous, clearly not understanding the extent of ominis’ guilty conscious and inner turmoil, though i can’t blame him since all of our lives are in the line, the three of ours and anne’s. he speaks in a hushed tone now, more serious.

“it’s up to us. i can teach you crucio or i can cast it on you…”

“if you cast crucio, you will regret it forever.” i don’t think i could handle being riddled with that level of regret for the rest of my life, not if i have a choice. and it’s either me or ominis as the victim and he doesn’t deserve to endure that twice over. what a horrible mistake it was to come here.

“i don’t want to learn the curse, but i can handle the pain. it’s fine. cast it on me.”

“i shan’t forget this… ready?”

it’s not him that i’m afraid of and yet i’m backing against the wall as sebastian draws his wand. it’s not the first time i have been on the other side of his wand before. it wouldn't even be the first time we’ve been on the other end of each other’s wands given that we’ve dueled in defense against the dark arts and in crossed wands, but this is so incomparably different. for one, my wand is away, and two, i have never had to be tortured to save our lives.

i can withstand it, though. i'm sure. i get hurt loads of times and even with sprains, strains, bruises, and aches, i can still tolerate the feeling. it's daunting, but it isn’t as though it's the killing curse. i can do this.

it's only a few seconds, anyhow. better me than ominis, right?

“crucio!”

sebastain howls the curse and the word reverberates menacingly in the short hall we’re confined to. my vision is overcome by red. bright scarlet, rippling and glowing, coursing through my body before the searing torment even registers in my brain.

no amount of rationalizing or mental preparation could have readied me for the devitalizing, racking anguish. screams cry out, ringing throughout the passage as my body twists and cramps unbearably. i can’t even tell if they’re my own, gritting my teeth so hard i feel like i might crack a molar.

it feels like every pain imaginable: burning, tearing, piercing, aching, gnawing, throbbing, dull, sharp, shooting, pinching, stinging, glaring. my blood is corrosive and i'm being eaten alive by it. it's as if my skin and muscle was being ripped away, sliced through with long claws, from my skeleton. each of my nerves are shot, deep tingling and smarting settling in my bones. my intracranial pressure rises, tenfold worse than a horrible sinus headache, like i'm at the bottom of the ocean fighting for my life as my lungs collapse.

nauseatingly disorientated, i use what little sense i have left to keep down my breakfast as hot tears roll down my cheeks. to bear such a tribulation, to survive such wretchedness is almost an out of body experience. i wish i could just black out, to become unconscious. to die. anything to escape.

the magic branches out, transferring some of the incandescent power to the door, smoldering like magma. it shines and pulses, accenting the black like a marbling effect behind the faces. the faces of despair that i’m sure mirrors my own. the door melts away, leaving no trace of the matter.

the pain doesn’t fully subside when the magic does. mere seconds had passed, but those seconds seemed to have stopped time, withholding my sanity in the process.

ominis calls out, his panicked cries resounding. sebastian’s expression, triumphant that the plan worked, fades when he finally gets some sense knocked into him by ominis’ reaction. eagerness is replaced with etches of guilt, of shame.

ominis gaunt, composed and impassive, is now the epitome of contrition, as though he had casted the curse himself. terrified and clearly traumatized by his past, his eyes glossed over like he’s trying to will back tears.

exhaustion overwhelms the ebbs of the lasting curse. a sharp stinging in both my kneecaps are evident enough that i shocked them as i fell, something i hadn’t realized even happened. i push myself up from the floor, crouching on my hands and knees before i’m able to sit back. ominis lowers himself beside me, bracing me against him as my unsteadiness causes me to sway. the ringing in my ears begin to fade and i realize he’s speaking to me, trying to be comforting despite the pained cracks in his voice. he sounds a moment away from breaking down.

“-st breathe, okay? it hurts, i know… i promise it’ll all be over soon. i swear to you that this will end.”

he drops his wand with a clatter and hastily reaches for my pockets, recalling i had used some of a wiggenweld earlier. he uncorks the small potion and grasps it between his index and thumb, using his remaining three fingers to map where my mouth is and brings the potion to my lips in an attempt to do something, anything, to ease the pain. i splutter on the liquid, taking in my first ragged, shallow breaths and shakily exhaling. my heart thuds and a part of me is surprised it didn’t combust during the tonic-clonic reaction.

“i’m so sorry.. i’m so, so sorry. is this helping at all? is there anything else i can do?”

bleary eyed, i can see ominis is now almost inconsolable through his tears and breaks in his voice as he speaks. regaining some disconcertment, i shake my head. my knees are relieved of some ache, but the curse is yet to abate entirely.

“are you alright?” sebastian asks me with some reservation, almost ambivalent, but not halfhearted. ominis looks incredulous, complete disbelief crossed with fury.

“alright? you’re asking if she’s alright? have you any clue what you’ve just done? does she sound alright to you, sallow?” ominis bellows, irately booming throughout the adjunct and scriptorium. “you’re unscrupulous! not even stuck for ten minutes and you so flippantly curse someone, not even understanding the severity of your actions. are you amoral? have you any sense about you?”

“i was just- we were going to-“

“i expected better from you. anne would, too. you think she’d want to know you just tortured someone? you don’t even know what’s in that scriptorium, let alone that it would help her. we didn’t even try to get out first, no other attempts. i’m going to get her out of here. i don’t care what you do after this.” ominis speaks with such finality that sebastian doesn’t dare argue. “mc, can you stand?”

ominis sits with me for a few minutes as i gather my bearings before he helps me up, guiding me through the scriptorium best he can with one arm around my waist and the other navigating with his wand, the small blips of red helping him get an idea of the layout.

all of that, for a small, candelabra lit office of sorts. i don’t have enough focus or time to examine the room, but i notice sebastian grabbing a book on our way out. ominis manages to find the exit disguised behind an odd looking statue on the wall.

i don’t quite meet his eyes when sebastian comes to apologize. he’s sincere, truly apologetic. i guess you’d have to be after torturing someone. he then turns to ominis.

“ominis, about your aunt-“

“please, sebastian. i meant what i said before. we swear right now to never engage in anything to do with dark magic again.”

“understood. i’m truly sorry about your aunt, ominis.” ominis merely nods, having either already come to terms with her passing before today or not wishing to deal with it now.

“good, and if you ever, and i do mean ever, pull some stunt like that again, i will not hesitate to report you to the headmaster. or worse. you have no clue the damage you’ve done here. she did this to help you. i allowed myself to be foolishly convinced, but she was the only one attacked by the traps, and then underwent literal torture for a chance to help you help anne. for your sake, i hope her screams of agony stay with you forever the way they will with me. let that be a reminder of what dark magic does since apparently what its done to your sister wasn’t enough.”

sebastian hangs his head low, apologizing again to the both of us before taking his leave. the halls are empty, likely because everyone is in class or headed to dinner. all the effects mostly alleviated, i’m finally able to stand upright so i pull away slightly from ominis, fully coherent and aware of the world around me. though the torment has ended, the fatigue is ever present. my voice is still a little more grating than i’d hope, but i decide it’s about time we parted ways so i can get to my dorm for much needed rest.

“thank you, ominis. i don’t know how else to express my gratitude, but i owe you to the fullest extent of the meaning. i’ll be okay on my own now, so you can go get some food and sleep. i’m sorry you had to witness all of that today… and i’m sorry you’ve had to undergo that yourself.”

“nonsense. i owe you. if we really were to be trapped there, forced to face the same fate as my aunt, i would have never wished that upon either of you. it’s worse than death, as some say and i believe they’re right. you sacrificed a part of yourself to save us from an untimely and slow death. in the end, it was my choice to give in to the persuasion, i’m to blame for encouraging sebastian’s whims. please, let me take you to the slytherin dorms tonight. the ravenclaw tower is far too long of a walk for you right now. i’ll see if a house elf will be willing to fix you a plate for supper.”

cant argue with that, can i? he doesn’t physically guide me this time, rather hovers a little closer should anything happen. the walk, thankfully, is very short and i can’t help but stare in awe as a snake slithers from the ground, previously undetectable, and presents the slytherin entrance.

inside the common room is a moody atmosphere, completely empty at this hour, but so different from the almost regal, book filled, furniture of the blue clad quarters i’m familiar with.

“here, sit. i promise these couches are more comfortable than they look,” he attempts a lopsided smirk. i very happily oblige, siting beside him and slumping back. now that i’ve been seated, my body feels absurdly heavy, weighed down with lead, the heavy burden of fight or flight having faded but leaving the emotional weight. “are you really okay, mc? you handled that better than you think. headstrong or not, nobody just walks away from a curse like that. i know from my own experience that those demons will linger a while.”

“i’m just… his heart is in the right place, i know it is. he’s doing this for his sister, his twin, for merlin’s sake. she’s just about the only family he has left. it’s admirable, but reckless. that aside, magic requires intention.” I pause for a moment, considering the need for it, but the pit in my stomach as i assimilate won’t dissolve, no matter the reason for his drive. “ominis, he had to want that. he wanted to-“

“i know,” he replies, not to pacify me, but to soothe. i stay and find comfort, not knowing if it’s because i need somebody right now or if it’s because he needs this more than i do, wishing he had someone to take care of him after the cruel handed abuse of the curse he underwent as a child. his following words of gentle empathy and praise are the last thing i hear as he lets me lean against him, entirely at the mercy of hypnos. ominis mutters a spell, summoning us a blanket and smooths my hair down as i fall into the deep waves of sleep.

the phantom claws of the curse, icy and relentless, tear through me. even in my rest, they’re entrapping me, leaving me cold despite the warmth that surrounds me. i doubt it will leave any time soon.

their (either mc or sebastian, depending on who you choose to be cursed) reaction to crucio is almost lazily without depth. the descriptions of crucio are literal torture and leaving permeant harm or insanity if used too long. hopefully this does it a little more justice. also, i wanted sebastian to be made to feel more remorseful instead of “are you alright? :/”. ominis would have definitely been more mad about it, given the circumstances. sorry if it’s rushed, i needed mental closure with this scene. mostly written during a night shift and not really proofread. please let me know if there are any errors!

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

hello, hello!

first post to tumblr, so please bear with me as i try to figure out how this all works :)

my name is ellie. my main interests on tumblr is x-men (the wolverine, specifically), buffy the vampire slayer, harry potter, hogwarts legacy, and bg3.

i’ll be posting mostly for myself as a way to feel more comfortable putting out works (likely very few) without stressing so much over perfection. i have something i’m working on now that i’m almost finished with. super fun!

31 hours into a 58 hour work week, so major thank you to everyone’s blogs that i’ve been spam liking the past few days while i have downtime on the clock.

stay hydrated <3 💋🥀