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“Honestly,” says Mabel Finley on a sunny Saturday morning, “your best bet may be to just…tell him.”
Poppy does her resolute best to not snort in frustration. She can tell Mabel’s only joking with her - she’s gotten quite good and picking up on Mabel’s remarkably dry sense of humor - but the fact that Sebastian’s cackling on Mabel’s other side makes the whole thing feel strangely humiliating. “You know I can’t do that,” Poppy reminds her, absently tugging up tufts of grass between her knuckles as she rocks forward from her lounging position.
Sunlight reflects off the glittering surface of the Lake to her left, agitated by a Grindylow briefly breeching between shallow waves some fifteen meters off of the shoreline. Poppy watches it peer at them curiously before dipping down beneath the surface once more - briefly, she wishes she could join it. She imagines life is probably far less complicated under the surface. “Finley’s got a point, you know,” Sebastian says before her train of thought can wander any further, and Poppy’s gaze immediately falls to the dramatic flop of his unkempt hair shifting as he speaks. He’s sprawled out on his stomach on Mabel’s other side, chin resting on his hand; each time he opens his mouth to speak, his entire head moves, exaggerating the movement of his hair. For whose benefit, Poppy’s yet to determine. “He’s a stubborn git. Sometimes, nothing short of smacking him in the face with it gets the point through that thick skull.”
Mabel combs her fingers through the tuft at the crown of his head, a half-amused, half-affectionate grin on her face at his blissed out expression, and Poppy tries very hard to ignore the burn of jealousy at their easy closeness in the pit of her belly. “I just feel like I completely lose my head when I’m near him,” Poppy laments, sitting up to properly wrap her arms around her legs. She buries her face in her knees and ignores Mabel’s sympathetic tut. “I barely know how to have a normal conversation with anyone as it is, let alone with someone I actually fancy - and what if he doesn’t feel the same way for me?”
“Don’t think like that,” Mabel gently admonishes. “This is meant to be a strategy session, not a pity party. We have to think positively! Come on,” she gently shakes Poppy’s shoulder. With a loud, long-suffering sigh, Poppy emerges from between her knees to peer up at Mabel’s face. “Give me your most outlandish fantasy of how this happens.”
“I don’t know,” Poppy mumbles, ears burning. “In my fantasies, he’s the one who tells me, not the other way around.”
“Okay! Okay, we can work with that! Sebastian, he’s your best friend -”
“You’re my best friend, darling. Don’t - don’t, er, tell him that, though.”
Mabel rolls her eyes, and Poppy lifts her head fully, bolstered by their more familiar teasing banter. “Tell us about Ominis. What would you say he would consider to be the most romantic way to confess his feelings?”
“We don’t exactly spend a lot of time talking about things like that,” Sebastian says, sounding mildly uncomfortable - again, bolstered, if only for the fact that Poppy’s not the only one suffering anymore. “I can tell you much more about his Gobstones techniques. Ask me about Gobstones, go on.”
“I don’t care about your bloody Gobstones - I only brought you out here with me to help us scheme.”
“I thought you said it was because you wanted something pretty to look at while you schemed?”
“Stop distracting me! Answer the question!”
“Fine!” Sebastian briefly drops his head and groans into the grass beneath his left forearm, before lifting his head with a defeated sigh. “He - he actually likes ballroom dancing a lot. He’s never actually said any of this out loud, mind you, but I always kind of got the impression that he’s disappointed Hogwarts doesn’t host an annual ball anymore. It’s the only skill his parents forced him to learn as a child that he enjoyed and still enjoys. I imagine he’d find the prospect of a ball romantic.”
“He actually did mention ballroom dancing to me over the summer,” Poppy says - the details are a bit fuzzy, as it was in one of his earliest letters to her, but she remembers smiling into her pillow while she read it, stretched out across her bed at her Gran’s house, reading his elegant scrawl in the glow of the afternoon sun. She’s certain she can find it in the box she’s stashed all of his letters in under her bed in her dormitory.
“That would be so romantic,” Mabel says - gaze twinkling and distant, like she’s picturing the whole scene unfolding in her mind.
“Too bad there’s not a ball,” Sebastian sighs.
“Who says we need a ball?” Mabel asks mischievously. “I happen to know of a place in the castle where ballroom dancing happens all the time - eternally, one might even say.”
Sebastian looks equal parts thrilled and intrigued - perfectly opposite the way Poppy feels. “I don’t like the sound of that at all,” she says.
“It’s completely safe,” Mabel says dismissively. “And it’s private - I’ve never seen another living soul down there before. Besides me.”
“Well, now, this I simply must see,” says Sebastian.
“Hush, this isn’t about us - Poppy? What do you think?”
“I think - I think it’s mad. I can’t even dance properly -”
“He’ll teach you,” Sebastian interrupts. “He doesn’t mind - I think he likes teaching almost as much as the actual dancing. He even tried to teach me once in third year.”
“I’m going to need to see a reenactment of that as soon as humanly possible,” Mabel says to him firmly, before returning her bright, excited gaze to Poppy’s face. “We could really make this fun - Sebastian and I can help! I can get everything ready for you both, we could all dress up like it’s a real ball, we could have dinner - or we can just ensure that the two of you aren’t interrupted if you’d rather be alone -”
“No! No, I - I’d rather you be close by in case - in case. Oh, I don’t know about this - I don’t have anything to wear to a ball -”
“We’ll go to Gladrags - Mr. Mason owes me a favor, anyways.”
“Another favor?” Sebastian asks incredulously. “What did you -”
“Let’s just say I helped him track down a long-lost relative and leave it at that for now, hm?” Mabel pets Sebastian’s hair absently, pointedly ignoring his slack-jawed expression and turning her full attention to Poppy’s face. “I can go with you and help you shop, and Sebastian can make sure Ominis dresses up, too - what do you say?”
Poppy hesitates, staring hard at Mabel’s wide, hopeful eyes. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way about me?” she whispers.
Tactfully, Sebastian turns his gaze out toward the Lake and feigns distraction, and Mabel shifts to face her a little more fully. “I don’t want to put words in his mouth,” she says softly, “but I would be completely shocked if you didn’t leave there on his arm.”
Poppy studies her face for a long moment. Slowly, her doubt disintegrates; a low-simmering joy bubbles up in its place. “Okay,” she says, and Mabel’s grin brightens to near-blinding proportions. “Okay, but - I’ll need your help. Both of your help.”
If there are any hiccups in the week that passes, Poppy doesn’t hear about them - the plan seems to come together unnervingly easily. They find a dress that very afternoon and order shoes to go along with it, which Sebastian insists on picking up for her in a fit of (secretly appreciated) gallantry when they arrive three days later. Mabel whisks her away to the Room of Requirement to start on her hair right after lunch that Saturday - of course allocating enough time for Poppy to spend at least an hour soothing her own nerves in Highwing’s company.
Mabel insists she come back inside after an hour, though, forcibly escorting her to a small vanity beside the Desk of Description that Poppy’s certain wasn’t there when they first entered after lunch. They laugh together while Mabel tells her about Sebastian’s first harrowing encounter with the Lord of the Shore the previous weekend, and Poppy preens upon learning that Mabel showed her the room long before she showed Sebastian.
“Of course I showed it to you first,” Mabel says as she drags a comb through Poppy’s hair, as if it’s obvious. “You really thought I would keep Highwing away from you any longer than strictly necessary?”
“Well, no, but - you know. It’s Sebastian.”
“Right, exactly, it’s Sebastian. He spent an hour just trying to figure out how the vivariums work. It was like watching a niffler try to understand Leprechaun gold. He’d probably still be inspecting them if I hadn’t - er. Distracted him.”
“Oh?” Poppy says through a broad, knowing grin. “Care to elaborate?”
“Not in the slightest,” Mabel mutters, red-cheeked and frowning down at a particularly difficult knot in Poppy’s hair. Poppy smirks. “I’d much rather talk about this evening. How are you feeling?”
“Nervous,” Poppy answers immediately. “Excited, of course, but so, so nervous. Remembering that you and Sebastian will be there helps.”
“We’re going to take our cues from you,” Mabel says soothingly, finally teasing the knot loose and combing through the hair carefully. “We’ll stay close if it seems like you need support, but the room is big enough for us to give you plenty of space if you want it.”
“I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you,” Poppy says earnestly, and Mabel smiles broadly at her through the mirror. “I mean it. I - I mean, you already know I didn’t exactly have many human friends before I met you, and now…”
“It was only a matter of time before they realized how delightful you are on their own - but I’m happy to have been the one to bridge that gap.”
“I’m thankful Professor Howin asked me to show you the Kneazles in that first Beasts class last year. Of course, I never would have imagined the journey it took us both on -”
“Oh, gods,” Mabel laughs. “You know, I still haven’t told either one of them about Horntail Hall. Perhaps that’s what we’ll talk about during dinner?”
“Sure, but let’s save the Snidgets for after the dancing starts in case I break his toes from stomping on them and need something to talk about while I carry him to the hospital wing.”
Mabel laughs and runs her fingers through Poppy’s hair, gently tugging at the locks of hair at her temples in admonishment. “Hush, now, you won’t break any toes tonight. And if you do, I’ve gotten quite good at the healing charm for minor breaks, and you know I can’t go anywhere without at least three vials of Wiggenweld on me.”
Poppy spends the rest of the afternoon and early evening trying to tamp down her fluttering nerves, allowing Mabel to buffet her to and fro in the Room - behind the modesty screen to change into her slip and a thin, silky robe over it, back to the vanity to pin her hair back, back behind the modesty screen to slide on her stockings and check that the shoes fit her properly for the third time. She takes herself back to the vanity while Mabel disappears behind the modesty screen to change into her own slip, staring at her own reflection for a long moment before abruptly deciding on a minimal makeup look. Partly because her cheeks are already so red, applying rouge seems unnecessary, and partly because her hands are shaking so badly she doesn’t trust herself to try anything even remotely intricate.
Mabel appears as Poppy’s finishing up, ducking down to check her reflection over Poppy’s shoulder as she finishes twisting her hair back into a romantic, plaited updo. Wisps of her wavy hair fall forward to frame her face, and Poppy’s struck with the same feeling that flooded her gut the night Mabel first arrived at Hogwarts.
“You are so beautiful,” Poppy tells her plainly.
Mabel’s gaze darts to Poppy’s face in the mirror, eyes blown wide with surprise. “Oh,” she says, glancing at herself almost skeptically, before her attention returns to Poppy. “You’re beautiful. Inside and out - Ominis is an incredibly lucky man.”
“It means the world to me that you’re helping me with this. Truly - I’m so grateful, no matter what happens.”
Mabel shifts to stand directly behind Poppy and loops both arms loosely around her neck, pulling her backwards into a warm hug. “It’s going to go well,” she says, hunching down to press her chin briefly to the crown of Poppy’s head. “We’re going to go on double dates to Hogsmeade all the time and wear their ties around our wrists and spend Christmases in Feldcroft with them and Anne - it’s going to be disgusting. I can’t wait.”
Nerves still tinge her every thought with a sour edge, but Poppy can’t wipe the smile off her face for the rest of the time they spend dressing.
Despite spending an inordinate amount of time assisting Poppy, Mabel somehow manages to finish dressing before her. She looks stunning, of course - clad in a strapless velvet-like forest green dress that hugs her every curve and spills down in soft folds just past her knees, accentuated with shimmering silver accents near the moderately high neckline and the dip of her waist. Her black, pseudo-snake skin heels and silver handbag tie the whole thing together, but she leaves the bag sitting on her Desk of Description in favor of helping Poppy tie the corset of her own dress.
Poppy’s is, by contrast, a shade of bluish-green that immediately reminded her of Ominis’ eyes the second she spotted it in Gladrags the weekend before. It flows a bit more freely than Mabel’s - something her Gran always warned her to stay away from with her shorter stature, but that she couldn’t help picturing fanning out around her in a dramatic and romantic flourish when imagining Ominis spinning her on the dancefloor. The skirts stop halfway down her calves, naturally drawing the eye down to her silver heels.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Mabel says upon stepping back to inspect her.
Poppy flushes and steps past her, ducking down to check her reflection one last time. Her hair falls in gentle curls around her face, softer than she’s ever felt it, and her eyes twinkle with excitement.
“It’s nearly seven,” Mabel announces behind her. “They’ll be waiting for us. Ready?”
Poppy straightens up and turns; Mabel’s holding an arm out, which Poppy takes with a grin.
They get more than a few curious, lingering looks from their classmates as they make their way down to the dungeons, but Poppy’s far too giddy to pay anyone else any mind. Mabel’s traipsing along like they’re simply headed to the library to study, tugging Poppy closer to her side and talking animatedly about the latest flock of Diricrawls she rescued and the increasingly strange names she’d given them. Instinctively, Poppy searches the faces they pass for a familiar pair of cloudy eyes, before remembering he isn’t there.
He’s waiting for them.
“Just remember,” Mabel says as she shoulders the door down to the dungeons open, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Poppy can already hear male voices ahead of them - echoing and distorted and tucked behind far too many corners. “Right,” she says, gripping a bit tighter at Mabel’s arm.
“Double dates in Hogsmeade,” Mabel reminds her in a whisper - quiet enough for Poppy to distinguish Ominis’ quieter, more dulcet tones over Sebastian’s braying laughter up ahead. “Christmases in Feldcroft. A Slytherin tie around your wrist.”
“Just like yours,” Poppy mutters. Though she doesn’t glance up, she feels Mabel falter a bit. “Right, I absolutely noticed, I’ve just been too nervous about all of this to actually ask. We’re definitely talking about it tomorrow.”
“Should’ve known wearing long sleeves wouldn’t hide it for long,” she sighs.
They round the last corner and Poppy’s knocked nearly breathless by the sight that greets her.
She’s dimly aware of Sebastian’s presence close to the wall on her right and the way Mabel’s gently shaking her grip off and vanishing in her periphery, but Poppy can do very little else but stare at the ethereal sight of Ominis standing before her. His smokey grey dress robes hug his form perfectly, silver tie folded neatly against the hollow of his throat. She can see his adam’s apple bob nervously, his left hand raising to scratch briefly at his earlobe. “Good evening, Poppy,” he says, voice shaking.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly. “Ominis you - you look so handsome.”
His eyes widen and he flushes, glancing briefly in Sebastian’s direction. “Oh, I - thank you. I - er -”
“Ominis,” Sebastian hesitantly interrupts. Reluctantly, Poppy glances away from Ominis - she only has a brief moment to note the fact that Sebastian’s hair appears combed, too, before her attention is drawn once more to Ominis. “Why don’t you give her the -”
“Of course,” Ominis says - louder than usual, almost like he's nervous. In her peripheral vision, she sees his hands twitch at his sides; a small corsage of white roses catches her attention as he lifts it hesitantly toward her.
“Oh, Ominis,” she says, “you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” he assures her. “I just - I may need - assistance, erm -”
He reaches toward her with his free hand, and Poppy grasps his hand immediately, flushing at the relieved smile that lights his features the instant their skin brushes together. His touch is gentle and warm as he slides the band over her hand and secures it around her wrist.
He lingers far longer than necessary, before his grip shifts back to her hand - fingers wrapping around her palm, pulling her a little closer to his side before pulling her hand up toward the crook of his elbow. “I would offer to lead the way, but -”
“Please,” Mabel says, edging around the two of them toward the metal gate covering the doorway to their left. She pushes it open on its hinges, and then Sebastian’s sidling up behind her, hands briefly pressing against her waist as he shuffles her forward a few halting paces. “Allow us,” she says, reaching behind her blindly for Sebastian’s elbow as she grins broadly and winks at Poppy.
The long hallway beyond the gate is lit with a cold, beautiful, almost eerie blue glow. Gooseflesh raises along her arms as they follow Mabel and Sebastian down a long, narrow hallway; she shivers involuntarily, and Ominis makes a quiet noise of concern and covers the hand she has curled around his crooked arm with his free hand. “Are you cold?” he asks softly. “I would be happy to lend you my jacket -”
“I’m okay,” she assures him, purposefully swaying a bit closer to his side. “I’m - I’m really happy you came.”
A small, beautiful smile curls the delicate features of his face. “I’m happy you came, too,” he says, the pad of his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
She blushes and bites the inside of her cheek as she gently squeezes his arm.
The hall twists and turns gently as they walk, lit every few meters by a blue-flamed sconce, until eventually it deposits the four of them at the mouth of a large ballroom. Ghostly, pearlescent instruments hang suspended in air on the far side of the room beneath an unfamiliar crest hung on the wall; already, the room swells with an easy waltz, and Poppy’s heart leaps in her chest when Ominis automatically perks up and looks curiously in that direction.
“That’s not the quartet from the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, is it?” he asks Poppy quietly.
Poppy giggles. “No. It actually looks like ghost instruments.” Ominis lets out a sigh - of relief, if Poppy’s not mistaken, and Poppy giggles again. “Did you really think they’d steal the quartet from the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower?”
“Considering the way they are, I wouldn’t put it past either one of them,” he says wearily.
She laughs outright at that, which in turn makes him grin broadly. She’s considering asking his advice on the best way to tease Sebastian and Mabel over their exchanged ties when movement from the corner of her eye reluctantly tears her gaze away from his pleased expression.
Mabel and Sebastian are already out on the dance floor. Mabel, it seems, is just as dismal a dancer as Poppy; Sebastian’s holding her close, gesturing down toward their feet with his chin, while Mabel clutches desperately at his shoulders and narrowly avoids trodding across his toes as he leads them through a slow, clumsy turn. “Oh, wow,” Poppy snorts.
“What?”
“Mabel’s really awful at dancing.”
Ominis chortles a bit incredulously. “Is she, really?”
“I suppose it’s never come up in conversation, but yes, it’s quite bad.” As if on cue, Sebastian lets out a short yelp of pain, quickly muffled by Mabel’s rushed apologies. “Now I don’t feel as bad about being horrible myself.”
A curious look passes over Ominis’ face; gently, he pries her hand away from his elbow and shifts to stand directly before her. “Have you ever tried before?” he asks.
It doesn’t take long to sift through her memories - poacher camps never really afforded her any opportunities to try her hand at ballroom dancing, and she’s fairly certain the silly jigs her Gran taught her in the kitchen over the summer don’t exactly count, either. “Can’t say I’ve ever really had the chance to try, no,” she says after a brief pause.
Ominis huffs out an airy laugh through his nose and drops his head for a moment. “No, of course not,” he says. “Well…I would be honored to teach you, if you would like to learn.”
He bows to her and offers her a hand, and her heart leaps into her throat as she slides her palm against his.
She’s swept away at once, his broad hand warm against her back, leading her gracefully through the steps. “Just trust me,” he tells her when she tenses on a blind turn. “I shan’t let you fall.”
It gets easier with every pass across the floor. After a while, she thinks she can count the melody; she grins up at him as they move, laughing along with him when the sounds of Sebastian and Mabel bickering on the sideline over which one of them is meant to lead the other filter through the music.
“You’re a natural,” Ominis declares as the second song fades into the third.
“Oh? And how do I compare to your other student, Sebastian?” she asks cheekily.
His face flushes bright red, but he merely sighs. “Just for that,” he mutters, before his grip shifts and she’s suddenly spinning out and away from him with a bright shriek of laughter. He draws her back in at once, laughing at her breathlessness, no longer waltzing but happy to let her bury her face in his chest to catch her breath.
Slowly, his hand settles against her again - a bit further down this time, closer to the dip in her waist. He’s still moving gently, rocking back and forth with the rhythm of the music, but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to get moving again.
So Poppy stays still, head nestled against his chest; she drags her hand down from his shoulder to wrap around his waist, and squeezes his hand once before twining her other arm around his waist as well. His arm lands immediately around her shoulders, holding her close, and for a long while, they merely embrace.
“Poppy?”
His voice is quiet, but she feels it rumble through his chest beneath her cheek. It sends an entirely involuntary shiver down her spine - right beneath his hands - and when she picks her head up to peer up at him, he’s smiling almost shyly down at her. “Yes?”
“I - I wanted to - erm, are Sebastian and Mabel still nearby?”
She turns as far as she can without relinquishing her hold around his waist and spots them on the far side of the room, having apparently given up on waltzing in favor of swaying, not unlike what she’s doing with Ominis. “They’re on the other side of the room,” she says, nestling back in against his chest. “Entirely wrapped up in each other, of course.”
“Of course,” he agrees with a brief, twitching smile. “I wondered if - and you can say no to this, but I - I just - I wondered if I might - er - touch - touch your face.”
She pulls back a bit and finds his face flushed a brilliant red from the roots of his hair down past the collar of his shirt; he swallows thickly and licks his lips, brows drawing further together as the seconds drag on. “Oh,” she says, and he winces. “Oh, Ominis - of course. Of course you can.”
He lets out a breath, shoulders slumping in relief, before shaking his head and blinking rapidly. She steps back just far enough to grab both of his wrists from the small of her back and gently guides his hands up; he holds his breath and visibly startles when his fingertips brush against her cheeks.
He lingers there for a moment as her hands fall away, seeming to brace himself, before his fingertips slide across her cheeks and brush against her ears on either side of her face. He drags his thumbs over her cheekbones and up the bridge of her nose, and then back down again, following the natural slope of her cheeks down to the corners of her mouth. She holds her breath, then, watching the way his lashes flutter with rapt attention as he traces the shape of her lips with a feather-light touch.
She breathes out only when his fingertips slide back up, up, up, past her ears and into the soft hair at her temples as he seeks out the curve of her brow bones and the edges of her eye sockets. She closes her eyes and feels his thumbs brush gently over her eyelids a second later; he lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh and traces them again, apparently mesmerized by the way her lashes feel. “So soft,” he murmurs to himself. He traces her forehead, too, and then back down the edges of her face to gently cup her jaw and thumb over the curve of her chin.
“Well?” she asks after several long moments of continued caressing her chin.
“You are,” he says tremulously, “without a doubt, the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
Her mouth falls open in shock, but the knot of emotion in her throat stops whatever undignified sound was welling up in her chest from escaping.
“I - I can say that quite confidently, now,” he says, “but even if I hadn’t touched your face, I would have said the same thing. You have the most beautiful heart, Poppy - your fierceness and loyalty are astounding to me. Your kindness and your unfailing joy are unrivaled, and I - I often find myself craving your company above all others.”
She doesn’t feel the tears welling in her eyes until the first one streaks down her cheek; she laughs, choked, at the look of alarm that ignites in his wide eyes when it spills down past the rim of her jaw and tangles in his fingers. “Happy tears,” she assures him quietly, and his expression softens.
“I’ve spent so long running from my past, from my family and their legacy - but in getting to know you better, in learning of your history, I’ve - I’ve realized I can do more than just run. I can stand, and I can fight. You’ve given me a purpose, you’ve given me hope - and - and I never want to be apart from you.”
Her tears flow freely, her laughter wet and choked; he smiles, wry and crooked, and sweeps his thumbs across her cheeks to disrupt their flow.
“Poppy…would you allow me the honor of courting you?”
She lets out a half-laugh, half-sob, and clings to his wrists. “Yes,” she chokes, and his answering grin is blinding. “Yes, yes…”
He pulls her into another embrace - firmer than before - and buries his face in her hair. She can feel the way he grins against the crown of her head, and her heart soars.
Mabel and Sebastian have the good sense to wait a solid thirty seconds before their excitement seems to get the better of them; Poppy, still buried in Ominis’ comfortable embrace, laughs giddily at their combined whoops of celebration echoing throughout the ballroom, nearly drowning out the ghostly quartet still mid-sonata behind them. She’s immediately yanked into a bone-crushing hug by Mabel the second Ominis’ arms loosen around her, and over Mabel’s shoulder, she watches Sebastian whack Ominis’ back several solid times as the two of them embrace as well.
Ominis reaches for her the moment he’s disentangled from Sebastian’s embrace, and Poppy tucks herself into his side at once, blushing furiously but grinning harder than she’s ever grinned in her life.
“We haven’t even had dinner yet!” Mabel cries suddenly, whirling around on her heel to stare forlornly at the long, empty table on the far side of the room. “I spent the entire week down in the kitchens with Deek - we were going to serve a whole three-course meal -”
“I’m rather glad this happened before dinner was served, actually,” Ominis admits. “Not sure I would have been able to hold anything down for how nervous I was.”
“We can still use your conversation cards during dinner,” Sebastian says, grinning at Mabel’s wobbling pout. “Might be hilarious now that they’re courting, actually -”
“Or,” Poppy interrupts, “we could talk about how the two of you exchanged ties last weekend and haven’t told anyone yet.”
“You what?” Ominis shouts. Mabel winces as Sebastian goes very still, red-faced, wide eyes trained on Ominis’ suddenly outraged expression. “You exchanged ties and didn’t tell me?”
“We didn’t tell anyone,” Mabel tries to soothe as Sebastian quickly shuffles to stand behind her, guiding her with his hands on her hips to shield himself from Ominis. “We wanted to tell the two of you, first, but felt it…inappropriate with all of this planning going on, we thought - you know, after things went well tonight, we could tell you on the way out.”
“You, I understand not saying anything,” he says, pointing at Mabel. “But you,” he snarls and shifts to point at Sebastian, who ducks down at once, staring at Ominis over the line of Mabel’s shoulder. “Exchanging ties was my idea -”
“Whoa, let’s be clear, here,” Sebastian loudly interrupts, glancing down nervously when Mabel whips around to stare at him over her shoulder, “I was already thinking about doing it, alright? You just - you gave me a push, that’s all.”
“You conveniently didn't mention it was Ominis' idea,” Mabel says coolly.
“Forgive me for forgetting, it’s just that I was a bit distracted - you were bleeding out at the time, you see -”
Ominis and Poppy both shout at the same time, and Mabel cows, shrinking back against Sebastian’s chest, gaze darting between their faces as they shout. “I wasn’t bleeding out!” she tries. “It was - it - it healed fine, so -”
“Neither one of you is allowed to go anywhere without one of our supervision anymore,” Ominis snaps, gesturing to himself and Poppy. “You’ve lost privileges. Officially. It’s honestly astonishing to me that either one of you is still alive at this point.”
Mabel blinks, and then glances at Poppy. “Okay, I’ll bring Poppy along with me everywhere from now on,” she says innocently - but the mirth flashing in her gaze instantly sets Poppy’s teeth on edge. “Considering we’ve already raided and destroyed a dragon fighting ring together -”
The room instantly dissolves into chaos once more, all four of their voices melding together so loudly the music is but a distant memory; Poppy can’t stop herself from laughing, still so incandescently happy to be courted by the red-faced blond at her side, to watch the scene before her unfold - Mabel and Sebastian and Ominis and her.
Exactly one year ago, she was alone - standing at the edge of the forest, watching Highwing glide over the tops of the pine trees in slow, lazy circles as the sun set over the far side of the castle. She was happy then, too, but aching with loneliness.
Ominis’ hand wraps around her arm - his grip gentle, but firm, even as his voice raises to near-deafening levels over Sebastian and Mabel arguing - and with one last breathless giggle, Poppy joins in their shouting once more.