It was late at night at the Slytherin common room.
Ominis had thought he was alone until he heard that voice. He had dropped his wand for the night and was much too entertained with the record on the gramophone to pay attention to the movement of footsteps around him.
"Hey."
He picked his wand up. It was Rosalie.
"Hello. It is..." He shut down the music with a swish of his wand. "Very late."
She smiled at him. "Sebastian said you wanted to talk to me."
"I, uh, I did not tell Sebastian that, but if you want to talk…" He said, recovering from the surprise. Even if he is blind, it is rare that someone catches him off guard in this manner. "I guess that there are some points we should straighten out about..."
She sank down on the couch next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him from talking.
"I got the impression that he had not said anything to you, but he implied it was important." She pauses for a second, and then shoots, "Are you keeping something from me?"
He scoffs in response. "What? No."
The girl lets out a small laughter. "Yet that question flustered you. What is it that bothers you, Ominis?"
The conversation about taking risks and allowing himself to have the things he wants flooded through his head. The Sallows pointed out, rightly, that the Beausoleil girl was a desirable match in the Wizarding circles, even in the Muggle ones, it appears, with her talk about the Queen Charlotte's Ball early next year.
If he does not shoot his shot soon, someone else will. All purebloods, even those with some sort of defect, are eventually arranged in marriage, which is a topic that always agitated Ominis to no end. There is no reason why things would be different for him and Rosalie.
"Ah, alright. You got me." He sighed, steeling himself. "Sebastian, Anne and I have been talking about things."
"Dark magic things?" She asks, carefully.
His eyes widen. "No! No, none of the sort. It is a bit more personal, I suppose, and I should share with you, too."
That is not the assurance he thought it was, the girl considered, but she nodded anyways, trying to maintain composure and calm, so she can properly listen to what is going to be said, whatever it was. If she gets nervous, too, it would be of no help and her friend might not be able to get on with it.
"Here is the thing, and you might laugh, but, uh..." He stutters and trails off.
She cocked her head. "Yes?"
"I care about you." The teen said carefully, clearing his throat.
She smiled softly. "I know. You have such a big heart, Ominis. You may claim you don't have feelings, but you care about all of us, and we all know it, believe me."
"No, not that. I mean..." He fumbled with his words, looking frustrated.
Her voice was gentle. "What?"
There was a long pause.
"I care about you differently than I care about them." He said finally. "And it is good, it felt good for a while, and then Sebastian draws attention to it and then I am confused because this is not something that I understand. But it is there. It is there and it is different, and I do not know how to articulate beyond that."
Rosalie blinked, looking a bit surprised. No, she was very surprised. Of all things that she expected him to say, that has not even entertained itself on her mind.
"I do not suppose I can help, right?" She asks, and he nods in response. "Let us try this, then. I promise that I shan't make fun of you for trying. In fact, uh, I might like hearing whatever it is you have to say."
Ominis cleared his throat again. He turned his hands face up as he aimed his gaze just off her eyes. He had been told that he is rather bad at positioning his eyeline, that it comes out as a bit creepy as he is always talking to the walls, and not to the people in front of him, and he wants to convey it as straight as possible.
"Um, well, you might have realised that I do not enjoy physical contact. I suppose us here in Slytherin do not have much of an occasion for hugs or handshakes, but even the warmth of others in close proximity is enough to make me anxious." He smiles wryly, lost in a flash of a memory. "In fact, I bump shoulders with people in crowded spaces often, due to my disability, and I am always uncomfortable with it. I have a reputation as brash because I never bother to excuse myself.
"I do not feel it when it is you. Rather, it feels... Good, very good, actually, when you touch me. When you pat my shoulder, or take my hand. I find myself wanting those moments to last longer, when logic says I should feel unpleasant because they happened. And..." Once again, he cleared his throat, shifting his weight between his legs. "And sometimes I am, uh, stressed. About classes, about my family, or Sebastian, or-or whatever. Then you walk in the room and... You have a calming presence, Rosalie. I get this sense that things are going to be okay, even though it makes no sense that you being in the same room as me would, would bring about something magical and erase whatever hurts me in this way."
Ominis gave a little laugh at the stupidity of the logic. If magic could solve any of his problems, he would already have rid himself of them. In fact, more often than not, magic is his problem.
"But, uh..." He paused, as if consciously trying to not clear his throat. "Then there is… Stuff."
"Stuff?" She asks, confused about what he could have meant by it.
He scoffs, despondent. "Well, you know… Pureblood traditions. Matchmaking."
Her posture had been relaxing as Rosalie listened to him, as if she was melting into the couch, but now her eyes flashed and she stiffened, suspicious as to why such an idea would come up in a conversation like this. He does not mean to inform her that…?
"What about it?"
"This..." He shook his head vigorously. "It is a ridiculous envy, but I fear that it could prove a genuine issue."
She cocked her head. "What do you mean?"
"I am unsure whether you know or not, but… Well, I am not a wealthy man. In fact, you may describe the financial situation of my family's as severe poverty."
"Ah." She nodded tersely. "Yes. Suffice to say, yes, I had been informed of it."
"Likewise, I have been told that yours… Is not in a similar situation." He chokes the words out.
"That would be correct, yes."
Her parents might not be particularly happy with her decision to come clandestinely to Hogwarts, for reasons that are not immediately clear to her just yet, but she is far from disowned. Even if she was, she had been able to rake up a reasonable income through several small business ventures up and down the valley, enough to cover her student expenses and, maybe, after graduation, independently sustain a modest house in a hamlet, if she so chooses.
"I am not my father's eldest son, so anything there is left to inherit will most likely go to my brother, Marvolo." He explains, with a detached voice. "I do not covet anything from the Gaunts, mind you, and the fact that there is very little just makes it easier for me to disentangle myself from it. However, I recognise that I must not be the dream of a son-in-law to any father.
"I have seen those prints that you bring Anne, of those Muggles from London and the continent. I have heard about the balls, the plays, the regattas and the horse races. I fear… I fear whomever is with me will not be able to enjoy any of those pastimes. That is, of course, not mentioning all the other troubles that are to come from a match with me. I am, in the end, much more problem than I am worth."
Rosalie shook her head slowly back and forth.
"Ominis…" She said in disbelief. "You are such a fool."
"Those are the facts, Rosalie." He responded, sternly. "My intention was only not to appear crass."
Even if he cannot see, she felt the need to place her hand on his cheek and lightly turn his face towards her.
"You may be right about everything you said, even if I am sure you are not, but your implication certainly is not." She caresses his cheek, and he leans into it, in spite of himself. "Alas, I understand what you mean to tell me."
He sucked in a breath. "Oh, that was... Satisfactory? You-You understood?"
"I believe so, but as I listened to you, I want you to listen to me." The teen girl said, calmly. "Can you do this for me?"
Ominis nodded stiffly.
With his assent, Rosalie let go of his face and reached out for one of his hands, curling her fingers around his. She felt him react, his thumb rubbing her skin back, treasuring the touch as he said he did.
"I think I understand." She tipped her head, trying to get a view of his eyes as they continued to look at their hands. "Ominis?"
He turned his head at her, and she was encouraged at the way his eyes, not completely open, keep searching for her, even if he would not be able to find her gaze.
She inhaled slowly, feeling shaky. "Tell me if I understand."
Rosalie hesitated for the briefest instant, then leaned forward, her eyes falling shut in the same graceful motion as she put her lips against his.
She both heard and felt his sharp intake of breath at this new touch, then he was shifting his weight, kissing her back, catching her bottom lip between his. Perhaps finally understanding the concept, he placed his free hand on her leg, just above the bend of her knee and over the long wool fabric of her skirt, warming the skin beneath unlike anything she ever wore before.
She silently suggested they deepen the kiss and Ominis likewise silently agreed to the proposal. As if in a rush, moments and slip-ups begin to pop into her mind, of those few rare moments when he had forgotten himself and spoken to her, told her he loved having her voice in his ear, how he adored the smell of her perfume against the cold and wet air of the dungeons, how he appreciated her company and how grateful he was for her help with Anne and Sebastian.
Everything was blurring again, spinning around them, but, this time, it was safe, no-one else was there, no-one's life was at risk and there were no relics to be discovered or curses to be broken. It was just the two of them at the centre.
For Ominis, that effect is hardly something new, as he feels out of himself whenever he catches a whiff of that smell of flowers on her perfume. If his life depended on it, he could not have told anyone any of his observations or notes at the Potions class they brewed Amortentia, as the smell was absolutely overpowering. Everything was a golden abstract in his mind except for her, humming and brewing next to him in a way that was proper enough for him to remain long enough to realize that he was enjoying the closeness. Long enough for him to taste that Gaunt insanity and greed that brought upon their downfall.
He had behaved dangerously that day, but there was no such danger today. Today it really was just him and her, alone in the common room, and he felt her kiss from head to toe and found himself moving his hand from her leg to her hip, wanting to tug her closer but unable to come up with an efficient means of doing so with them both sitting on the couch.
She interpreted his movement correctly, scooting herself closer to him, sliding her hands up to his neck, and his somehow found their way around her waist, the most complete and prolonged contact he could remember. Then he pulled back, eyes still closed; the spinning had migrated to his head and he was short of breath. He inhaled slowly, deeply, and his eyes fluttered open, still only inches away, a small smile on her face.
"Uh…" He tried to articulate, feeling like words were probably appropriate to the situation but finding none that were suitable to what he was feeling.
She put a finger to his lips, silencing him. Ominis took a deep breath and relaxed, dropping his shoulders and feeling relieved of having to lead conversation.
"Was that alright?" She asked gently.
She was wondering not about the quality of her action, but the action itself, and he understood.
"Yes. Yes, of course." He said, giving a quick nod. Then, once again clearing his throat, he gave her a smile. "You understand. You just said it better than me."
"Good." She smiled and then leaned over into his ear, whispering her address and breaking the Fidelius over her family residence. "I shall tell my father to wait for your owl, yes? Do not take too long."
He nods, eagerly. "I will get on with it right away."
Rosalie laughs softly, gets up from the couch and scurries away, leaving Ominis alone with his thoughts.
Two owls left the castle that night heading south.