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"Here, hold this."
Ominis automatically reached out his hand, palm up, and felt Sebastian place something small and hard in it.
"What is it?" he asked, closing his fingers around the object and turning it over.
"A caramel from Honeydukes," Sebastian said cheerfully.
Ominis hesitated. "You didn’t steal it, did you?" he asked suspiciously. Sebastian let out a loud laugh.
"Steal? Ominis, what do you take me for?"
With quick fingers, Ominis unwrapped the sweet. "Anything’s possible," he muttered, popping it into his mouth. A sweet raspberry flavour blossomed on his tongue.
“Honestly, where did you get this?” he asked. He heard the faint rustle of paper as Sebastian unwrapped one for himself.
“Garreth bought it,” Sebastian replied, his words slightly slurred by the caramel sticking to his teeth. “Something new from Honeydukes. He went a few days ago. I had asked him to bring back something for us.”
“Oh.” Ominis nodded, considering that, then silently held out his hand, a small, expectant gesture for Sebastian to place another caramel in his palm.
Ominis couldn’t remember exactly when it had started. Only that it was years ago, sometime during their first year, when “Here, hold this” had become a thing. Back when they explored the little woods and meadows around Sebastian’s home in Feldcroft: Sebastian loved venturing off to discover new places, climbing determinedly over fallen trees, up and down hills, wading across streams. Ominis always trailed a few steps behind, wand drawn, stumbling over said trees and hills, wearing a constant expression of disdain for the whole outing.
While they explored, Sebastian told wild stories he clearly made up as they went.
“See that ruin over there? I bet it used to be the home of a really powerful witch, centuries ago. Every morning, she’d walk down to the same stream we’re wading through now to fetch fresh water for her laundry.”
“If she’s a witch, does she really need to fetch water for that?” Ominis asked dryly, muttering ew, ew, ew under his breath as the icy water seeped through his shoes. “There are spells for cleaning. Or, you know, house-elves.”
Sebastian seemed completely unfazed by Ominis’ cynicism. “Well,” he said, hopping up onto the opposite bank and reaching out to steady Ominis as he climbed after him, “this witch liked to do things a little differently.”
Then he launched into another tale about how the fallen tree ahead of them had surely been placed there by an ancient troll, or something equally dramatic.
And every now and then, he would stop and say, “Here, hold this.” Ominis would stretch out his hand, and Sebastian would place something in it. Sometimes it was a stone with an unusual shape or a pretty color. Other times, it was flowers. The spring’s first snowdrops or a particularly large and perfect forget-me-not. Once, he carefully placed a small ladybug in the flat of his palm. Ominis had felt simultaneously delighted and a bit unnerved by the feeling of the small animal crawling around on his palm, to the back of his hand and all the way down to his wrist, before it suddenly had spread its wings and flown away.
The habit had followed them back to Hogwarts. Sebastian would say “Here, hold this,” and Ominis, ever patient, would hold out his hand for whatever Sebastian wanted to give him. Sweets, a textbook, his wand, a newly bought jumper, his quill, anything.
Ominis appreciated the gesture more than he cared to admit. For one, he liked how straightforward it was. Too often, people tried to hand him things and then just stood there, expecting him to somehow know where their hands were. Sebastian’s simple phrase — “Here, hold this” — made the intention clear. Many people failed to grasp how crucial verbal cues were if they wanted Ominis to react. Subtle hints or purely visual gestures often slipped right past him. While he could pick up on tone and intent from voices, it was much easier when people just said what they meant.
But more than that, it was what the gesture meant. Sebastian always thought about which senses mattered most to him — touch and sound — and by placing objects directly in his hand, he made sure Ominis could share in the experience. Holding spring’s first flower, feeling the shape of a magical artifact that made everyone else gasp in awe, tracing the silky weave of a new jumper bought in Hogsmeade.
Ominis wasn’t sure when things had started to shift for him, but he supposed it had been inevitable from the start. Judging by the whispers he overheard from passing girls, Sebastian was apparently irresistible; tall, charming, with a mischievous smile and a sharp jawline. Looks didn’t mean much to Ominis, but paired with everything that also was inside Sebastian, it was a recipe for disaster.
"Here, hold this."
A new quill, soft-feathered and thick-handled, perfectly weighted in his palm.
"Can you hold this?"
A heavy book with a cracked spine, probably their History of Magic textbook, set carefully in Ominis’ hands while Sebastian rummaged through his bag for something.
"Here, take a hold of this!"
Sebastian’s own wand, slightly bent after an overzealous attempt at Confringo.
"Hold this!"
A treacle tart Sebastian had smuggled from dinner.
"Here."
Ominis’ own gloves, which he’d been searching for since yesterday, placed gently into his hand.
Sometimes Ominis thought about how effortlessly he trusted Sebastian. All Sebastian had to do was utter the magic H-word, and Ominis’ hand would be there, open and waiting. It was, in itself, a small gesture, but for Ominis, it was a vulnerable one.
Over the years, plenty of less-than-kind souls had taken advantage of his blindness, seeing it as a perfect opportunity to play cruel tricks. His brother had loved doing it: telling Ominis to hold out his hand under the pretense of handing him his wand or a piece of toast, only to drop something revolting instead. Dirty socks. A handful of transfigured slugs.
And when Ominis first came to Hogwarts, a few students had thought it amusing to tease him as well. For Ominis, Hogwarts was the first time he’d been surrounded by so many peers, and the first time he’d had to navigate entirely on his own, relying only on hearing and wandwork in an unfamiliar place. It took him a while to realize not everyone meant well, and even longer to learn the subtle tones and patterns that betrayed ill intent.
Once, Professor Weasley had passed around a transfigured teacup in class so students could compare it to the real thing. When it was Ominis’ turn, Leander Prewett decided it would be hilarious to switch the cup with a broken Snitch from his pocket. Ominis had felt the small, uneven object and, none the wiser, led a full discussion based on its texture and shape until the quiet snickering gave it away.
Sebastian had been furious when he found out. He’d been ill that week and had missed every class, but the next day, when Ominis arrived to class, Leander’s seat was also conspicuously empty. Word had it he’d developed awful, pus-filled blisters on his hands, feet, and… other areas.
Now, Ominis could defend himself just fine, and everyone knew that teasing Ominis meant dealing with Sebastian, too. It wasn’t a problem anymore. But the memories lingered; the caution lingered. Extending his hand to someone meant exposing himself. Inviting trust, or humiliation.
Sebastian, of course, had never abused that trust.
That afternoon, Sebastian had asked Ominis to join him in exploring a secret passage he’d just discovered. Ominis had rolled his eyes and muttered something about reckless Gryffindor tendencies, but he’d let himself be dragged along on the strict condition that they wouldn’t be late for dinner.
Now they were descending a set of winding stairs somewhere deep in the castle. The air was cool and smelled faintly of damp stone and dust. Sebastian’s footsteps echoed ahead of him, quick and eager, while Ominis followed more carefully, his wand drawn before him. Sebastian was talking the entire time, voice bright and animated, filling the space with colour and warmth. Ominis didn’t mind. He was perfectly content to listen, letting his friend’s voice sketch the world around him.
“…and I nearly fell straight through the wall! Lucky I was paying attention. I checked that no one was watching, cast Revelio, and there it was: a hidden door. But I didn’t want to go in alone, so I waited for you.”
“How thoughtful,” Ominis said dryly. “This way, we can both be cursed at the same time. Efficient.”
“Exactly!” Sebastian sounded delighted. “That’s what I love about you. You think ahead.”
As the chatter and footsteps of other students faded behind them, the air grew quieter and more stale. Their path opened into a long, secluded corridor, empty and still. Ominis assumed this was where Sebastian had found his mysterious passage.
“Come on!” Sebastian called. Ominis followed the sound of his voice, stepping high when Sebastian warned him of a raised threshold. The air shifted as they entered a narrower, dustier hallway, the sound of their movements echoing off tall stone walls and a vaulted ceiling.
“I think this leads to the kitchens!” Sebastian said, his voice bouncing gleefully through the corridor. Ominis smiled faintly, relieved that they hadn’t stumbled into a patch of Devil’s Snare, or an irritable guardian statue. The faint scent of bread and sugar in the air confirmed Sebastian’s theory, and Ominis wondered whether it would be terribly immoral to use the passage to bribe a house-elf for a plate of biscuits.
The closer they got, the stronger the smell of baked goods became: warm butter, roasted nuts, caramelized sugar. It really did seem to lead toward the kitchens.
Sebastian stopped, and Ominis halted automatically beside him.
“Wait here,” Sebastian said, his voice already fading as he hurried off down the corridor. Ominis leaned back against the cold wall, listening to the echo of retreating footsteps disappear around a corner. For a few quiet moments, all he could hear was the soft creak of old stone and the distant clatter of pots and pans far below. Then, after what felt like only minutes, Sebastian’s steps returned.
"Got Missy to give us some leftover scones and a treacle tart," he said proudly. "We could eat them tonight, up in the Astronomy Tower maybe. It’s nice weather; I bet the sunset will be gorgeous. We’ll sit there and pretend to do homework."
"You mean, I’ll actually do my homework, while you ruin the peace and distract me?" Ominis said, smiling.
"Exactly," Sebastian laughed.
They started back the way they came, Sebastian now carrying a small cloth bag filled with their treasures. The air now filled with the scent of baked goods. Considering how dangerous and irresponsible Sebastian's little explorations could be, Ominis decided this was a pretty successful one.
Then, Sebastian said:
"Here, hold this."
Ominis instinctively held out his hand, expecting one of the scones, or maybe the treacle tart. He jumped slightly when, instead, a warm palm settled into his, and Sebastian’s fingers intertwined with his own. Sebastian didn’t even break their stride, just grabbed Ominis’ hand and lowered their hands so they swung casually between them.
Ominis blinked, his balance wobbling for half a stride as his brain scrambled to catch up with his body. He could feel the pulse at the base of Sebastian’s thumb brushing faintly against his own. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of every tiny movement, every shift of pressure as their palms met.
Sebastian, for his part, carried on as though nothing monumental had happened. His voice filled the silence again, bright and unbothered, some story about Garreth’s disastrous attempt at brewing a love potion. Ominis barely caught a word of it. His thoughts were a jumble, tangled between why and how and please don’t stop.
By the time they reached the end of the corridor, Ominis realized he hadn’t said a single thing for several minutes. Sebastian slowed, then stopped, still not letting go.
“Are you all right?” he asked, amusement curling in his tone.
Ominis opened his mouth, then closed it again. His pulse was loud in his ears, and his tongue felt clumsy. “No. I mean — yes. I’m fine,” he managed, ears burning. “I’m just… holding onto what you handed me.”
Sebastian laughed, low and pleased.
“Good,” he said, grin audible. “It’s important. Don’t drop it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ominis mumbled, heart fluttering in his throat.
Sebastian squeezed his hand once, soft and reassuring, and they stepped out from the hidden corridor, hands still intertwined.
several years later
"Here, hold this."
Ominis extended his hand, and felt a small box being placed in it. He closed his hand around it.
"What is this?"
"Open it." Sebastian sounded nervous.
Ominis found the seam of the lid and lifted it. His thumb brushed a soft velvet cushion and —
A grin spread across his face.
"Yes."
Sebastian made an indignant sound. "I haven't even asked you yet!"
Ominis shrugged, still smiling. "Maybe you should have done that before you gave me the box?"
Sebastian groaned. "Trust you to spoil your own proposal," he muttered.
“Alright, alright. Go on then. Say your bit.”
Sebastian sighed. “Now my flow’s completely ruined.”
“Sebastian.”
“Fine, fine.” He took a breath. “You know, for years I’ve been saying ‘Here, hold this’ to you. A book, a trinket, a cup, anything to help you picture the world the way I saw it. But somewhere along the way, it changed. And so one day I said ‘hold this’ and gave you my hand instead. And you didn’t let go.”
He exhaled softly, voice low and a little shaky. “So now I’m asking you to hold one more thing for me. Not just the ring, but me. My life. All of it. Will you?”
Ominis’ smile gentled into something softer. He reached into the box, lifted the ring, and held it out toward him.
“Yes, Sebastian,” he said. “I’ll always hold out my hand for you.”