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Sebastian was used to people flirting with him. Mostly girls, of course, though a few boys had approached him as well through the years. It was probably narcissistic to admit it, but he couldn’t lie: he loved the attention. He liked hearing the whispers that followed him down the corridors, seeing the longing looks from girls or the jealous glares from boys. Sighs about his thick hair and broad shoulders. Mutters about his plush lips and tall figure.
And Sebastian knew he looked good. He had the kind of jawline and dark, low brows that made him look dangerously handsome in a slightly rugged way. But his freckles and long lashes softened the edges, giving him a more boyish charm. The perfect combination, honestly. It also helped that by sixth year, he’d had a proper growth spurt, and grown taller than almost every boy in his year. And his voice had dropped, and he knew that when he lowered it and spoke in that rough, husky tone, girls practically swooned.
Right now, Sebastian was leaning against the windowsill outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. He really should’ve been going over his written assignment, something Ominis was currently doing a few benches away. But since Sebastian was more or less incapable of sitting with homework for more than three minutes without loudly complaining, Ominis had banned him from speaking with him until he was finished reviewing his own work.
Sebastian tilted his chin up, lounging against the wall. A few metres away, a small group of Slytherin girls, fifth years, were whispering furiously. He didn’t know their names, but he could feel their eyes on him, and he straightened slightly. He pretended to study his wand, flicking a bit of invisible dust from under his fingernail. The girls giggled.
Then one of them broke away from the group and walked towards him. She was small and delicate, with light hair braided down her back. She looked nervous, cheeks flushed red, clutching a thick book tightly to her chest. Sebastian bit back a grin. Here we go again.
“Hi!” the girl chirped as she approached. “You’re Sebastian Sallow, right?”
Sebastian gave her that warm, crooked smile. The one he knew made even professors lose their words.
“That’s right,” he said smoothly. “Can I help you with something?”
Her face went bright red. The cluster of girls behind her burst into a fit of giggles.
“Well, um, Sebastian…” She cleared her throat. “My name’s Melissa. I just wanted to ask… you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…”
Sebastian tilted his head. Another Hogsmeade invitation, probably, or maybe the Yule Ball, even though it was still three months away. Melissa was cute, but not really his type. He was already wondering what the kindest way to turn her down would be, without embarrassing her in front of her friends.
“Your friend Ominis,” Melissa said, and Sebastian blinked. “Is he single?”
What?
Automatically, Sebastian’s gaze flicked to his best friend, still hunched over his parchment. Ominis’ wand glowed faintly blue, signalling his reading charm was active, which also meant his echolocation spell was off.
“Uh…”
For the first time in his life, Sebastian was speechless in front of a girl. This was mad. He’d expected the usual routine: the girl comes over, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she invites him to Hogsmeade or a party in the common room, or asks if they can have a “private study session” sometime. Sebastian laughs, says yes or no depending on how cute she is, though it’s usually a no. Then maybe they meet once, flirt a bit, and he politely steps back again. After that, regardless of whether they ever met at all, she joins the ranks of girls watching him from afar, maybe a bit more bitter now that she’s been turned down.
Ominis? No one had ever asked about Ominis. Ever.
Melissa frowned slightly, and Sebastian realised he actually needed to respond. He cleared his throat, his voice coming out much higher than the smooth, charming tone he’d intended.
“No, I don’t think so. I mean, he doesn’t have a girlfriend, as far as I know. He’s single.” He coughed awkwardly.
Melissa beamed.
“Okay, thank you so much for the info! That’s all I wanted to know.” And with that, she practically ran back to her friends, who erupted into wild giggles.
Sebastian stared after them as if he’d been hexed. With considerable effort, he tore his gaze away and looked back at Ominis, who was now finishing up his homework and tucking away his self-writing quill.
Was Ominis good-looking?
Before Sebastian had time to think any further, Professor Hecat appeared in the doorway and called the class in. Almost in a daze, he followed the flow of students into the room. He sat automatically in his usual spot; second-to-last row, far right, and jolted slightly when Ominis slipped into the seat beside him. Of course. They always sat together.
“I heard your fan club just gained a new member,” Ominis murmured as they pulled out their books. Sebastian licked his lips.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, trying not to stare at Ominis’s long, slender fingers as they flipped neatly to the right page. “Though … she didn’t exactly—”
“So, class!” Professor Hecat clapped her hands, and Sebastian reluctantly tore his eyes away and looked toward the board.
He was grateful that Hecat was giving a theoretical lecture today, droning on about defensive spells and their resistance to dark enchantments. It gave him plenty of time to devote himself entirely to the chaos spinning around inside his head.
He had never really thought about whether Ominis was attractive. Or — well, of course the thought had crossed his mind once or twice: Ominis was the only boy in Slytherin still taller than Sebastian, and his jawline was every bit as sharp as Sebastian’s own. And his eyes, sightless as they were, were beautiful. Combined with his narrow shoulders and fair hair, which he’d stopped slicking back in seventh year, Ominis looked… ethereal. It didn’t help that he had returned after summer having seemingly grown into his features; instead of the skinny, gangly boy that used to be his best friend, Sebastian had been met with a tall, straight-backed young man, whose still narrow shoulders somehow seemed more filled out, whose long legs and arms now were grown into elegant features rather than flopping, awkward limbs.
But everyone thought that way about their friends sometimes, didn’t they? Sebastian wasn’t blind — sorry, Ominis — and everyone had looked at a friend at some point and wondered, would I sleep with them or not?
To prove his own point, Sebastian turned his gaze toward Garreth, who was sitting a row ahead to the left. He frowned.
Was Weasley good-looking?
Sure… probably? His hair was very red, if you were into that. And his crooked grin was… charming, maybe, if you liked that kind of smile. And… his clothes looked clean.
Sebastian stared for a long moment but couldn’t, for the life of him, summon the same vivid, warm image he’d had of Ominis.
Bloody hell.
This was ridiculous. Ominis was his best friend. He should be happy someone else was interested in him, for once. Ominis had spent his whole life feeling like an outsider, partly because of his disability and partly because of his family name. Sebastian had always been the one telling him it didn’t make him any less: that he was clever, funny, brilliant, loyal. That it was everyone else’s loss if they didn’t see how great he was.
Now someone had noticed. Shouldn’t Sebastian be happy about that?
He twisted in his seat and glanced back. Melissa and her friends were huddled together in one of the back rows, their eyes fixed on Ominis. Melissa met Sebastian’s gaze, giggled, and winked before turning back toward Ominis.
Sebastian faced forward again. The unidentifiable lump in his stomach grew heavier.
You’re being ridiculous, he told himself. Be happy for him. You’ve always said he’s a real catch. Now someone else finally agrees. Tell him. He’ll probably be pleased.
The day went on, and Sebastian said nothing.
He meant to. Several times. When they left the classroom, and Melissa and her friends trailed after them down the corridor, still giggling. A cold, prickling feeling settled in Sebastian’s stomach. Was Melissa planning to ask him out already? He grabbed Ominis’s arm and steered him sharply toward the Undercroft, so quickly that Ominis stumbled. When his friend pulled his arm back and demanded to know what on earth he was doing, Sebastian lied, saying he’d seen Professor Hecat heading their way with their essays in hand. Ominis didn’t sound convinced, but he let it go.
He almost said something later, when they were sitting out in the courtyard before dinner, going over the day’s notes. Ominis leaned back against the stone wall, his cloak off, the top button of his shirt undone, tie loosened. He looked so soft, so at ease, as he turned his face toward the fading afternoon sun, and the words died in Sebastian’s throat when he caught a glimpse of collarbone peeking from beneath the white fabric.
He almost said something again at dinner, when he spotted Melissa and her friends across the Great Hall, whispering and giggling as they looked toward their part of the table. The sharp, heavy stone in his stomach spun faster and faster. Then Ominis got a bit of gravy on his nose, and Sebastian’s words, and his potato, lodged firmly in his throat.
After dinner, they settled in the Undercroft. They’d studied enough for the day, and Sebastian wanted to practice a bit of Confringo. He’d mastered the spell ages ago, but still liked to polish it now and then. Ominis was curled up on a few empty crates, leaning back against a pillar.
“Do you know Melissa Blackthorne?” Ominis asked suddenly, in that calm, casual way of his.
Sebastian nearly dropped his wand. His Confringo went wide, missing the practice dummy entirely and scorching a hole through a hanging sheet of fabric draped over one of the pillars.
“W-what?” He coughed and pretended to stumble, as if his failed spell had been caused by a misstep rather than complete panic.
Ominis still looked serene, almost distracted, as if they were discussing the weather. He drew one knee up, resting his chin on it. Sebastian tried very hard not to stare at the way the movement pulled Ominis’ trousers tight around his thighs, the fabric slipping just enough to expose the top of his garter socks and a pale strip of skin between the cuff and the hem.
“Melissa Blackthorne,” Ominis repeated. “She’s a fifth-year in Slytherin. She came up to me after dinner to talk.”
Sebastian’s blood ran cold. He’d done everything in his power to stay by Ominis’ side all day, hovering like a loyal hound, guarding him against any possible ambush. But after dinner he’d had to run to the boys’ lavatory, leaving Ominis waiting outside before they met up to head to the Undercroft. Had Melissa really been that quick?
“Oh,” he managed at last, trying to ignore the bitter taste of the word. “How… nice. What did she want?”
Ominis rested his cheek against his knee. “She asked if I had any plans this weekend.”
They had plans this weekend. Sebastian had already asked Ominis to go to Hogsmeade with him to buy new quills and parchment. But that was only Saturday afternoon; Ominis would be free the rest of the weekend, as far as Sebastian knew. Free, and entirely available for dates, private study sessions, or cozy tea breaks in the courtyard.
“Oh.” Apparently that was the only word Sebastian remembered how to say. He tore his gaze from Ominis and stared hard at the scorched training dummy. The sharp stone twisting in his stomach grew heavier, pressing upward, threatening to tear him apart from the inside. “And what did you say?”
Ominis gave a small, crooked smile. “I told her I already had plans with someone. That I was busy this weekend.”
Relief flooded Sebastian, only to vanish just as quickly. The stone in his gut returned, sharper than ever. “What other plans? With who?” His voice came out a touch harsher than intended.
Ominis rolled his eyes. He hopped down from the crate and walked toward Sebastian, and damn him for being taller, and drew his wand.
“I have plans with you, dumbass,” he said, flicking his wrist. A swift Confringo burst from his wand, hitting the dummy square in the chest and sending it flying across the floor.
Suddenly the room felt unbearably warm. Sebastian wasn’t sure if it was from the spell or from the heat crawling up his neck. He licked his lips, eyes fixed on Ominis’ long fingers curling around his wand.
“Oh.”
Ominis smirked, and Sebastian’s breath caught. Ominis had always had that sharp, crooked grin. Sebastian had just never noticed it before. Now he saw the flash of white teeth, the curve of his full lips, and the stone in his stomach spun faster than ever.
The trip to Hogsmeade had started out perfectly ordinary. The air was crisp, the kind of cold that reddened the tips of noses and made breath fog in the sunlight. Ominis walked beside him, wand glowing before him, the faintest curl of a smile resting on his lips. Sebastian had a strange urge to grab Ominis’ hand and guide him.
They’d been moving from shop to shop for the better part of an hour; Sebastian picking out a new quill, Ominis buying a pair of soft leather gloves “because apparently someone keeps borrowing mine and never returning them.” Sebastian had ignored that jab with a guilty cough.
It was all easy, comfortable and familiar. Or rather, it would have been, if it weren’t for a shadow that seemed to constantly follow them.
Melissa Blackthorne and her gaggle of friends.
The first time he saw them was outside Scrivenshaft’s. Then again at Gladrags Wizardwear, where Melissa and two of the other girls hovered suspiciously near the glove displays, whispering and giggling. Each time Sebastian spotted them, his stomach twisted tighter.
It wasn’t as if they were actively stalking them, but it was impossible to ignore the way Melissa’s face lit up whenever she caught sight of Ominis. Or the way she leaned into her friends, whispering something that sent them all into fits of laughter.
Ominis, of course, remained entirely unbothered. He moved with that quiet confidence of his, listening patiently as Sebastian complained about the price of quills or muttered about how nothing in Gladrags ever fit properly. If he sensed the attention they were drawing, he gave no sign of it.
By the time they finally made their way to the Three Broomsticks, Sebastian’s jaw ached from clenching it. He practically herded Ominis to a small table near the window, his hand brushing Ominis’ sleeve as he guided him through the crowd.
“This was a good idea,” Ominis said when he’d taken a deep swig of his butterbeer, hands wrapped around his mug, letting the warmth seep through the gloves he hadn’t yet taken off. “You’re unusually well-behaved today, Sallow. I was starting to think someone hexed you.”
Sebastian didn’t say what was on his tongue: that he did feel hexed, but not from some random bully, but from Ominis himself. That his entire worldview had tilted on its head in just a few days.
He had never really thought about the possibility of someone else coming along and taking Ominis from him. That one day, maybe, Ominis would turn to someone other than Sebastian for comfort and closeness. Someone else would share inside jokes with him, would see him wake up in the morning with pillow creases on his cheek and his hair sticking up in every direction.
Instead of Ominis and Sebastian, best friends, it would become Ominis and his partner, and Sebastian would be the old friend from school he might write to once a month, if that.
Someone else would get to hear Ominis’ quick, sharp humor and those long-suffering sighs. Someone else would be the one holding his arm when he crossed uneven ground or wove through a crowd. Someone else would get to brush that soft blond hair from his forehead, slip an arm around his narrow waist, kiss those soft, pink lips—
Sebastian blinked. What the hell?
Where had that come from?
He’d never actually thought about kissing Ominis before. Well, except for those stray moments when, as people do, you idly wonder what it’s like to kiss your friends. And Sebastian just happened to have one real, close friend, and that friend was Ominis. So it wasn’t that strange that the only person he’d ever imagined kissing was him.
Back in the present, he realised Ominis was waiting for an answer.
“I’m just a bit tired from the week,” he lied, taking a loud gulp of butterbeer to avoid elaborating.
Ominis made a small, skeptical sound that clearly meant liar, but let it go.
Over the rim of his mug, Sebastian caught sight of a familiar blonde braid. He froze. Melissa and her friends were seated just two tables away, all crowded onto one side so they had a perfect view of Sebastian and Ominis.
Suddenly, the butterbeer didn’t taste nearly as good.
He didn’t realise how tightly he was gripping his mug until Ominis spoke.
“Sebastian. What exactly do you have against Blackthorne?”
Sebastian jolted, eyes darting to him in alarm.
“What— what do you mean? Who?”
Ominis pressed his lips together.
“I’m not an idiot, Sebastian. You go rigid as a gargoyle every time she’s nearby. I’ve sensed her presence all day, and every time she comes within ten feet, you practically drag me in the opposite direction.”
Bloody hell. Sebastian had really thought he’d been discreet. He should’ve known Ominis was far too perceptive for his clumsy attempts at misdirection.
He cleared his throat. “It’s… nothing, really. I just don’t like her. Bad vibes.”
Ominis raised an eyebrow. Damn it.
“Bad vibes?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’ve never even spoken to her.”
“I did. A few days ago. She asked about…” Sebastian stopped short, realising he still hadn’t told Ominis about Melissa’s question regarding him.
“…a homework assignment,” he finished lamely.
“I see,” said Ominis, sounding thoughtful. He took another sip of butterbeer, and for a moment, Sebastian thought he might actually get away with it.
Then Ominis set his mug down with a sharp clink and stood up.
“Well, in that case, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if I went over and asked whether she wanted something in particular.”
Sebastian’s heart shot straight into his throat. He didn’t even think: his hand flew out and yanked Ominis back down into his seat. Ominis stumbled slightly, missed the chair at first, but found it again, settling with a self-satisfied smile.
“You had rather strong feelings about that,” he observed, and Sebastian hated (loved) him for it.
“I…” Sebastian began, but there was nothing he could possibly say in his defense. He dropped his gaze to the table instead, biting his lip hard enough to sting.
His stomach was in chaos; the heavy stone that had been sitting there for days seemed to crumble, breaking apart into fluttering fragments: tiny, treacherous butterflies that made him feel almost nauseous.
Suddenly, Ominis placed his hand over Sebastian’s. Sebastian jumped at the unexpected touch. Ominis had taken off his glove, and his fingers were warm and soft.
“I’m only teasing, Sebastian,” he said, voice unusually gentle. “I’m not so heartless that I’d ask someone else out when I already have a date.”
Relief fluttered through Sebastian, only to be instantly replaced by dread. Ominis already had a date? How could he? With who? Sebastian had spent the entire week craning his neck, scanning for Blackthorne like a paranoid hawk — and yet, someone else had managed to sink their claws into Ominis anyway. Suddenly, the butterbeer threatened to come back up.
“Oh,” he managed, trying not to show how much his insides twisted in pain. “That’s… nice. With who?”
Ominis’s hand stayed where it was, but his brow furrowed.
“Are you serious?” he asked, sounding almost offended.
Sebastian bristled immediately, defensive and stupid for not realising Ominis already had a secret lover. Instead of answering, he gave a sharp, dismissive snort.
“Sebastian.” Ominis laid his other hand, still gloved, on top of Sebastian’s. “We’re on a date.”
Sebastian blinked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a rational voice suggested that no human psyche was built to withstand this much emotional whiplash in one week. A louder voice said: What?
“What?”
Ominis suddenly looked uncertain. “Yes? This is a date, isn’t it?”
Sebastian struggled for words. “Is it?”
Ominis’s expression dimmed. He withdrew his hands, straightening in his seat. Sebastian’s felt instantly cold.
“My apologies,” Ominis said stiffly. “I must have misunderstood… I thought, when you asked me to Hogsmeade, you meant—”
“What? No!” Sebastian blurted, immediately realising it was the worst possible thing to say. Ominis’s face closed off, going cold and unreadable. Shit.
“Wait— sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I didn’t think when I asked you, that it was like a date. But I want it to be. If you want it to be. A date, I mean. That would… yeah.”
Where the hell was his usual charm now? He sounded like a caveman being introduced to the English language for the first time.
Ominis still looked wary, but when Sebastian reached for his hand again, he didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry, Ominis. I’ve been a complete mess these past few days.” Sebastian exhaled deeply, deciding honesty was the best option. “A few days ago, Melissa came up to me and asked if you were single. That kind of… triggered a downward spiral and a sexual crisis for me. You were right, I’ve been acting weird around Blackthorne; I didn’t realise it before, but I’ve been so jealous I practically jump out of my skin every time she looks at you.”
Ominis still looked wary, but a small, cautious smile had crept onto his lips.
“I noticed,” he teased. “But I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why you looked ready to draw your wand every time that fifth-year came within earshot. I thought she’d rejected you. Or that you’d had some failed fling.”
Sebastian shook his head violently, then realised Ominis couldn’t see it and rushed to say, “No. No, absolutely not. It’s only ever been you, Ominis.”
He hesitated, seeing the trace of uncertainty still lingering in Ominis’s clouded eyes, and added quietly, “I think it’s always been you. I just didn’t realise it until now.”
Ominis’s hand squeezed his. Sebastian glanced toward Melissa again, who was watching their interaction with hawk-like intensity. He wanted to snog Ominis senseless right there in front of her — hell, in front of everyone in the Three Broomsticks — but figured that might not go over well. So instead, he settled for holding Ominis’s hand as they finished their butterbeers in silence, both wearing faint, satisfied smiles.
“Take it off,” said Sebastian, tugging lightly at Ominis’s cloak.
Ominis frowned. “Why?”
Students were starting to file into the classroom.
“Just do it.”
Skeptical, Ominis let Sebastian slip the cloak from his shoulders and draped it over his arm as they entered. Sebastian took their usual seats, pleased to note that Melissa sat two rows ahead and to the right. She turned around again, sneaking a giggling glance at Ominis — until her gaze caught on his neck, and she froze.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair with a smug little smile. Ominis pulled out his books and self-writing quill, humming softly, utterly unaware of the two large purple marks decorating his throat.
Melissa’s usually rosy cheeks had gone pale. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from Ominis’s neck, but for once, Sebastian didn’t mind her staring. He leaned closer, slung an arm around Ominis, and pulled him in, eyes still locked on her. Ominis complied without resistance, resting his head against Sebastian’s shoulder and placing his hand on Sebastian’s thigh beneath the desk.
Without breaking eye contact with Melissa, Sebastian bent down and pressed a kiss to Ominis’s pale hair. For a fleeting moment, he met Melissa’s wide, shocked gaze before she spun back around in her seat, posture stiff and tense.
She didn’t turn around again for the rest of the lesson.
“What are you doing?” Ominis muttered as Professor Ronen scrawled across the board. Sebastian only drew him closer.
“What do you mean?” he asked innocently.
“You’re acting unbearably smug. Like you’ve got a secret, or know something no one else does.”
Sebastian grinned and pressed another kiss to Ominis’s head, eyes fixed on Melissa’s blonde braid.
“Nothing,” he murmured. “Just… marking what’s mine.”