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Ominis’ fingers glide across the embossed printing of his Advanced Potions book, trying to understand and internalise what he’s reading about Veritaserum and how it’s properly brewed, when Sebastian’s voice gives him pause.
“I think I’m ready.”
Ominis nods despite not knowing if his friend will even see his reaction, closes the book, and reaches for his wand.
“No, wait. Just one more minute… then I’m ready.”
Ominis sighs and rolls his eyes—a gesture learned despite never having seen someone else do it—whilst falling back down onto his bed. He decides not to pick up his book again; even he has to admit that today calls for celebration, not excessive study time. He doubts that he could learn anything even if he tried, thanks to Sebastian positively pacing from one end of the room to the other, muttering under his breath just loud enough to disrupt his thoughts. He doesn’t need the gift of sight to know that his friend is scurrying about like a frightened mooncalf, oozing tension with every step.
Ominis puts his hands behind his head, careful not to rub off the pomade keeping every single hair in place and listens in on Sebastian’s mumbling.
“This should do it… oh, no, this won’t work. Damn. Where is my…? Ah, there. Green? Black? Or maybe silver!”
“Dear boy, you look marvellous! Dashing. Nothing less than dapper!”
Ominis lifts an eyebrow. Despite never using them, he knows that each dormitory is furnished with a full-length mirror with an enchanted Gargoyle’s head on top. Slytherin’s mirrors tend to be quite blasé if not downright condescending whenever someone steps in front of them, so hearing the light voice excessively compliment his friend comes as a surprise. Sebastian must’ve really gone all out tonight.
“Oh, what do you know, you’re an antique piece of rubbish at best!”
He also seems entirely unimpressed.
The mirror gasps, retorting with a flippant ‘I say!’ before falling quiet once more.
Sebastian continues to fill the silence with his quick steps across the various rugs, but Ominis has had enough. He sits up with a swift movement, his hands checking if his hair needs a bit more Sleakeazy’s before finally lifting up his wand. He walks over to his friend with practised steps and leans against his wardrobe, effectively stopping Sebastian from rearranging his outfit for the umpteenth time today.
“Sebastian, what could you possibly be this stressed about? At this pace the Yule Ball will be over before we even get there. Stop worrying.”
Sebastian lets out a huff but seems to stop pacing.
“Easy for you to say with your perfectly coiffed hair and flawless complexion!”
Ominis sputters. Since when did Sebastian notice these things? And since when does he sound so… petulant. He knows his friend to be stubborn to a fault, but this is something else. He furrows his brow, resigning himself to make the decision for the both of them.
“You are ready. Let’s go.”
Without waiting for Sebastian to either agree or disagree—confident his friend would vehemently deny his assessment—Ominis points his wand away from him, reaches for Sebastian’s overpriced dress robes and guides them out of their dormitory towards the Great Hall.
Sometimes Sebastian wonders if Ominis’ trust in him is misplaced. It’s not long after they started going up the moving stairs that his friend’s hand loosens its death grip on his robes, convinced that Sebastian will dutifully follow him. While he’d be flattered in any other circumstance, it now takes everything in him not to double back to their room and lock the door. Who wants to visit the poxy Yule Ball anyway? If he wanted to attend, Sebastian would’ve chosen his absolute best dress robes, his current ensemble is second-rate at best. He would’ve spent not one, but three hours in front of the mirror, trying to tame the abomination that most call hair—or whatever sentient being decided to grow on top of his head. No, he did not look forward to the Yule Ball, and he certainly did not make an effort to convince people otherwise!
The first few times Sebastian trips over his own feet Ominis doesn’t react, but after the fifth time he suddenly stops and turns on his heel, nearly throwing him off balance and back down the staircase. Not that he’d mind too much at this point…
“Sebastian.”
“What?” Wait, was that his own voice? Why did he sound so out of breath? Must be these endless steps!
“What’s wrong?”
Sebastian stares at his friend, not sure how to respond. He balls his fists and…Merlin, why are his palms clammy? What is it with this castle and the sudden humidity? His skin is itching as well, must be these low-budget robes he spent a year saving up for.
Realising that the silence between them is stretching into awkward territory, Sebastian clears his throat, shrugs, and starts to move past his friend, further climbing towards his demise. Ominis follows him closely.
“There is nothing wrong. Stop worrying! The robes are just a bit too long, I’m not used to—”
“They are not, Sebastian. You told me how you had them custom-made. They fit you perfectly.”
Sometimes he hates Ominis for being such a good listener.
Finally reaching the corridor towards the Great Hall, Sebastian lets out a heavy sigh and leans against one of the stone walls. He presses his palms against the cool slate, hoping to give his overheating body some relief.
He knows Ominis can’t see him. He’s aware there’s barely anyone around anymore—most students have already gathered in the hall—but he still needs to close his eyes to say what’s on his mind.
“It’s—it’s Faye,” he finally says.
“Did something happen?”
Ominis sounds surprised, even worried, something that would warm a certain spot inside Sebastian’s chest if his mind wasn’t occupied with this damn Yule Ball and its… implications.
“No! I mean, yes?” Sebastian presses his now cool hands against his eyes, groaning into his palms, “I—I saw her earlier! Ominis, she was wearing a dress!”
“…And?”
How can his friend sound so unimpressed? Doesn’t he realise how serious this is?!
“And she’s a girl!”
He can hear Ominis’ hand slap his forehead with remarkable velocity.
“Your perceptiveness would bring Salazar to his knees, Sebastian. Why is that a problem?”
Sebastian’s hands instinctively find his hair—it couldn’t look much worse anyway—and start to rake through them.
“Because I can’t ignore it anymore! She, she is my—our—friend. She was always our buddy. One of us. We fought Ashwinders together! And now she’s wearing a dress and looks pretty in it, she’s probably already waiting and what if this,” his hands wave erratically up and down his body, not that Ominis could see, “is not enough?”
He stares at his blond friend, waiting for a reaction but all he gets is a hearty chuckle.
“How can you laugh at my—at my despair?!”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Ominis scoffs and steps towards him, slowly putting a hand on his shoulder and gives it an affirming squeeze.
“She did ask you to go with her to the Yule Ball, did she not?”
He gives a half-hearted shrug but hums in agreement.
“She didn’t ask you while you looked all ‘dashing and dapper’. She asked you while you looked how you always do. It will be fine. She likes you.”
Sebastian looks at his friend, searching for any insincerity but finding none. He takes a deep breath, willing his body to lose some of its tension.
“But what if she doesn’t like me enough and only asked me to go as friends?”
“I didn’t.”
Ominis yelps and Sebastian is sure his heart just stopped beating. Faye—smart, beautiful, conveniently quiet Faye—is standing behind them, an odd look on her face he’s never seen before. He can feel his cheeks heating up in embarrassment and his hands leave his hair only to scratch at the back of his neck.
It takes him a distressing amount of time to clear his dry throat and address her.
“How…how much did you hear?”
She cocks her head to the side, a shy smile spreading her lips. Wait, are they glistening? Salazar, help him.
“Well, I’m finally aware that I’m a girl. So, thanks for that.”
Ominis snorts—snorts! —as he lets go of Sebastian and lifts his wand to guide him the rest of the way to the Great Hall. Sebastian’s shoulders slump in defeat.
“I really put my foot in it, huh?”
Faye steps closer, smiling up at him. One of her hands reaches out, smoothing down his hair and adjusting his bowtie. His eyes follow her movements with interest until she speaks.
“Both, I’d say.”
He bites his lip, looking anywhere but her face.
“It’s just, I—”
Something is bubbling up inside of him. This itching, cloying feeling he’s had ever since fifth year. Ever since they fought their first Troll together. Something heavy coils in his stomach, his heart pounds like it wants to break out of his chest and before he can stop himself, he steps closer and practically barks at her, “I—maybe I DO have a crush on you! So what?! That’s no reason to make fun of—”
“I’m glad.”
It takes but two words to leave him speechless. Helpless.
His eyebrows lift as he looks down at her, and notices how her cheeks start to redden. Faye’s fingers, now jittery and—dare he say it? —shaky, slide up towards his elbow to eventually link her arm with his and slowly pull him along. Her hair falls into her face as they walk and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was trying to hide from him. Her normally clear voice sounds meek. The penny has dropped.
“I didn’t ask you to the Yule Ball as a friend.”
Sebastian is convinced that her dress, albeit pretty and flattering, can’t possibly be that interesting to warrant her staring at it continuously.
“More as a…not-friend.”
Multiple pennies.
“Huh.”
“I-is that okay?”
Sebastian takes in a deep breath to steady himself, before nodding.
“…It is.”
As soon as the words left his mouth Faye presses her face into his upper arm and he can feel the heat of her blush permeate his robes. A smile, soft and honest, something Sebastian rarely shows anyone, tugs at his lips and his arm pulls her just a little bit closer. Her dress rustles softly and the little sparkling stones woven into the fabric glitter with each step as they make their way towards the Great Hall, ready for the Yule Ball, ready to dance the night away as not-friends.
