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Everyone, Sebastian included, had assumed Ominis was prudish. Shy. The kind of boy who would gasp at the sight of an exposed ankle — if he could see one, that is. But still.
When they’d first gotten together, Ominis’s face had turned the color of peonies whenever Sebastian so much as kissed his cheek. Pet names like “baby” or “darling” in front of others nearly made him faint. Reaching second base had taken an eternity, not that Sebastian minded much; he’d been perfectly content with kissing and holding him. But Ominis had been suspicious, nervous, inexperienced, and it took him a long, long time to get comfortable with being touched anywhere below... well, below the neck, basically.
So when they finally made it to fourth base, Sebastian had expected Ominis’s shyness to ease a little. He’d still be bashful and a bit self-conscious, sure, but maybe a little more relaxed, maybe even confident.
He was wrong.
Ominis turned into a monster.
“Again.”
Sebastian blinked. His ears were still ringing, and bright spots danced before his eyes. The good kind, but still.
“What?”
Ominis swung a leg over him and straddled his waist like an angry, dissatisfied kitten.
“More.”
“Ominis, I can’t. Not again.” Sebastian almost whined. “That was the second time. I—”
Ominis just stared at him.
Sebastian gave up.
“Ominis, we’re going to be late for class.”
“I don’t care. Come here.”
“But… we did— when we woke up—”
“That was almost an hour ago, Sebastian. Don’t be ridiculous. Come here.”
“We’re going to be late.”
“Come. Here.”
“And then Garreth blew up his second cauldron of the lesson, and I swear, Professor Sharp looked like he was about to blow up Garreth!” Sebastian was gesturing wildly as he spoke, his friends laughing heartily around him.
“It really wasn’t that bad,” Garreth protested, though he was grinning smugly. “The second explosion was way smaller.”
Imelda rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, because that makes it so much better.”
Amit looked slightly anxious. “Maybe we shouldn’t be standing outside the Potions classroom talking about this.”
Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Amit. It’s not like—”
“Sebastian!”
Everyone froze. Especially Sebastian.
Ominis was striding down the corridor toward them, wand drawn and glowing an angry red. He was beelining directly towards Sebastian, like a heat-seeking missile.
“Yes, darling?” Sebastian said, his voice a little higher than usual. Ominis stopped in front of him, completely ignoring the others, and crossed his arms.
“Come back to the dormitory.”
Sebastian blinked. “What?”
“Come. Back. To the dormitory.”
He glanced at his friends, who were all watching the exchange with a mix of horror and fascination.
“Why?”
Ominis poked him in the chest with his wand.
“Sebastian. Now.”
“But we were just about to—”
“Sebastian.”
He went.
Their friends stood there staring after them, mouths half open. Amit was the first to speak.
“Did— did Ominis just— did he mean—”
“Yes,” said Imelda flatly, looking as though she wanted to scrub her brain clean of the last thirty minutes. “Yes, he did.”
“And Sebastian just… followed him. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs.”
“Yes.”
“We need new friends.”
“We really do.”
It only got worse after that.
Their friends watched with mild concern as Sebastian began to look less like a person and more like a zombie. Or a lobotomized patient. A very happy one, but still.
Ominis strutted into the Great Hall for breakfast, a faint blush on his cheeks and a satisfied smile on his lips. Sebastian trailed after him like a puppy on an invisible leash, a dazed, blissful grin plastered across his face.
Their friends looked on in quiet horror as Sebastian sank into the seat beside Ominis and immediately tried to fill his goblet with toast instead of tea.
“Should we… like, intervene?” Imelda asked.
Garreth shook his head. “Are you kidding? Sebastian’s the happiest man alive right now.”
They watched as Ominis finished his toast, leaned forward, and murmured something to Sebastian. Without a word, Sebastian nodded, stood up — toast untouched, tea forgotten — and the two of them disappeared again.
Imelda blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Garreth smirked. “Happiest man alive.”
By the end of the week, the situation had gone from “mildly concerning” to “we might need to alert the Ministry.”
Sebastian had entered a permanent state of dreamy detachment. He drifted through the halls with a dopey smile and that faraway look in his eyes, like someone under a particularly pleasant Imperius Curse. Ominis, meanwhile, was positively glowing.
Their friends gathered one afternoon in the courtyard, sitting in a small circle of shared disbelief.
“This can’t go on,” Imelda said flatly, watching from afar as Ominis guided Sebastian toward the dormitories — again. “He’s a shell. A pretty shell, but a shell.”
“I’m starting to forget what his voice sounds like,” Poppy added.
Amit looked uneasy. “He seems… happy?”
“Hostages can seem happy,” Imelda muttered.
Garreth leaned back on his elbows, squinting. “Alright, alright, maybe it’s time someone had a word with him. Just… a friendly check-in.”
The others looked at him in unison.
“No,” said Garreth.
“Yes,” said everyone else.
Garreth sighed. “Of course it’s me. Fine. I’ll talk to him. If I don’t come back— avenge me.”
Catching Sebastian without Ominis around was a challenge in itself. Garreth spent half the morning staking out corridors like some kind of romantic bounty hunter. Eventually, he spotted Sebastian alone in the greenhouses, staring fondly at a mandrake pot that wasn’t even his.
“Hey, Seb,” Garreth greeted casually, leaning on a nearby table. “Nice weather we’re having, huh?”
Sebastian turned, smiling like sunshine personified. “It’s perfect.”
Garreth nodded slowly. “Right. Yeah. So, uh… you and Ominis seem happy.”
“The happiest,” Sebastian said dreamily.
“That’s great. That’s … really great.” Garreth scratched the back of his neck. “You don’t think, uh… Ominis might be a little… demanding, maybe?”
Sebastian blinked, looking genuinely puzzled. “What? Why would I think that?”
Garreth opened his mouth. Closed it again. “No reason,” he said quickly. “Just checking. You look, uh… healthy.”
Sebastian smiled, all dimples and serenity. “Thanks, Garreth. Everything’s perfect.”
“Right. Yeah. I can tell.”
Garreth made his retreat before Ominis could appear out of thin air like a vengeful spirit.
Later, he returned to the group, looking pale but impressed.
“Well?” Imelda demanded.
Garreth spread his hands. “Mission failed.” Then he paused, grin creeping in. “But I think their mission has succeeded.”
Poppy groaned. Amit blushed scarlet. Imelda dropped her head into her hands.
“Never again,” she muttered. “Next time, we just let nature take its course.”
Garreth chuckled. “Nature’s already running the course, Imelda.”
By now, their collective worry had evolved into something like a support group. Except the person in need of support didn’t want it, and the person responsible for it radiated the sort of calm, aristocratic confidence that made “intervention” sound like a crime against etiquette.
Since speaking with Sebastian hadn’t worked, the friend group decided to approach the cause of said problem directly. Which was a good idea in theory, until it became clear that everyone was a little scared of Ominis.
“I’m not doing it,” Garreth said firmly. “He’s terrifying.”
“He’s polite,” Poppy argued.
“He’s politely terrifying,” Garreth corrected.
Imelda crossed her arms. “That leaves Amit.”
Amit went still. “Wh-what do you mean, leaves me?”
Poppy gave him an encouraging smile. “You’re the diplomatic one.”
“I’m the nervous one!” Amit squeaked. “That’s different!”
But within ten minutes, he found himself standing at the edge of the courtyard where Ominis Gaunt sat on a stone bench, the picture of composed elegance. He was reading a heavy book, running his fingers lightly across the page of the Braille-translated text, and looked up the moment Amit approached.
“Mr. Thakkar,” Ominis said, tone cool and perfectly civil. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Amit swallowed. “O-Oh, h-hello, Ominis! Lovely day, isn’t it? Nice breeze. Excellent temperature.”
One pale brow arched, the faintest curve of amusement on Ominis’s lips. “Indeed.”
“Right, right,” Amit continued, voice climbing an octave. “So, um, about Sebastian—”
Ominis tilted his head slightly. “Yes?”
“Well,” Amit said, wringing his hands, “he’s, uh, been looking… tired lately. You don’t think he might, er… need to rest?”
Ominis’s expression didn’t shift much, but there was a subtle flicker of a smile, calm and unbothered. “Don’t worry. I’m making sure he’s properly… cared for.”
Amit blinked rapidly. “R-right. Of course you are. Wonderful. Great.”
Behind them, there was a metallic clang.
Both turned their heads just in time to see Sebastian walk directly into a suit of armor, murmur a polite “Sorry,” then promptly collide with another student heading the opposite way.
Ominis didn’t even sigh. “See? Perfectly fine.”
Amit made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a squeak. “Right! Well! I’ll just— I’ll leave you to it, then—!”
He practically scurried off, nearly tripping over his own robe as Ominis returned serenely to his book.
Across the courtyard, the rest of the group watched Amit’s retreat.
“Well?” Imelda demanded.
Amit collapsed onto the bench beside them. “Mission failed. Again.”
Garreth nodded sagely. “At this point, we’re just documenting the decline.”
Poppy sighed. “He’s not declining. He’s glowing.”
“Yeah,” Imelda muttered. “Like a candle about to burn out.”
They all turned as Sebastian wandered past, humming softly, bumping into a tree before continuing on his way, utterly blissful.
Imelda shook her head. “Hopeless.”
“Hopelessly happy,” Garreth corrected.
It reached the point where no one was entirely sure whether Sebastian Sallow was still among the living.
At breakfast, he poured pumpkin juice onto his porridge instead of milk and didn’t even notice. When Poppy pointed it out, he just nodded serenely and said, “Ominis likes it sweet.”
In Charms, he applauded in the middle of Professor Ronen’s lecture, apparently reacting to a joke from a conversation that had happened ten minutes earlier.
Walking through the corridors, he’d bump into doorframes, stair rails, and occasionally students. “Sorry,” he’d murmur dreamily, not stopping, as if gravity itself had become a gentle suggestion.
During lunch, he buttered the back of a book instead of a slice of bread. Amit tried to intervene, but Sebastian simply smiled and said, “It’s all about texture.”
When they passed him in the library, he sat at a desk with an open book upside-down and stared at it like it was reading to him.
Imelda pinched the bridge of her nose. “He’s not even in the same dimension as us anymore.”
Garreth folded his arms. “He’s transcended. He’s become… post-Sebastian.”
Poppy sighed. “He’s going to walk straight into the lake one of these days.”
As if on cue, they watched Sebastian stroll straight into a stone pillar, bounce off gently, and continue on his way without breaking stride.
Imelda groaned. “Unbelievable.”
Garreth grinned. “What? He’s blissfully haunted. Leave him be.”
“Are you alright, Sebastian?” Poppy asked kindly, with a hint of worry, as Sebastian joined their little semicircle, which was supposed to be a study session but had quickly devolved into a gossip meeting. Sebastian sank down between Amit and Imelda, eyes glossy and unfocused.
“The weather’s really nice,” Sebastian agreed absently.
The others exchanged looks.
“Okay,” said Imelda, blunt as ever. “We’re actually a bit worried about you. We get that you and Ominis are… doing well and having lots of quality time together, but you look like you haven’t slept more than four hours in a week.”
Sebastian slowly turned his head toward her.
”Sleep?” he said, as if the word was foreign to him.
”Yes,” Imelda said impatiently. ”Actual sleep. Not we’re off to bed, then and then doing anything in said bed except sleep. I mean actually closing your eyes and becoming unconscious for eight uninterrupted hours.”
“It’s fine,” Sebastian said softly, smiling faintly. “Ominis makes sure I’m hydrated and fed. Everything’s perfect.”
Before anyone could respond, a familiar voice drifted across the courtyard.
“Sebastian.”
Everyone froze.
Ominis was approaching, wand drawn, its tip glowing angry red. He looked calm, too calm, the way a storm looks calm before it hits.
Sebastian blanched and, in pure self-preservation, scooted behind Amit.
Amit squeaked. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Protect me,” Sebastian hissed. It was the most emotion anyone had seen from him in days.
Ominis stopped a few paces away, tilting his head slightly, that small, knowing smile on his lips.
“Sebastian,” he said evenly, “there’s no point in hiding. My wand can sense you’re here.”
Amit whimpered. Sebastian sighed in defeat and stood, shoulders slumping like a man marching to the gallows. Or perhaps the honeymoon suite.
Ominis extended a hand toward him. “Come along.”
“Yes, Ominis,” Sebastian murmured, voice a mixture of resignation and fondness. He cast one last helpless glance at his friends as Ominis took his arm and guided him away.
The friend group watched in silence as the pair disappeared around the corner.
Poppy was the first to speak. “He looked like he was walking to his execution.”
“Yeah,” Garreth said, leaning back with a grin. “Except I think he was looking forward to it.”
Imelda groaned. “We’re never saving him again.”
“Good,” said Garreth. “He doesn’t want saving.”
Amit sighed, watching the empty path where they’d gone. “He’s doomed.”
“Blissfully,” Garreth said.
In the end, they gave up.
There was no grand intervention, no dramatic rescue, no clever plan to reclaim the ghost of Sebastian Sallow. He didn’t want saving — and truthfully, he didn’t need it. Every time they saw him drifting down the corridor, half-asleep and fully content, with Ominis a step beside him looking smug and serene, it became harder to argue with the evidence.
“Whatever,” Imelda finally said one morning over breakfast, watching Sebastian butter a quill instead of toast. “He’s happy. Ominis is happy. Everyone’s happy.”
Garreth raised his teacup. “To true love and mild brain damage.”
Poppy groaned, but she smiled. Amit just nodded solemnly.
And when Ominis arrived moments later and Sebastian immediately brightened, eyes going soft and fond, none of them said a word. They simply watched him go — blissfully dazed, entirely gone, and perfectly content.
Because, really… what was there to fix?