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Ominis waited at the top of the staircase that led down to the kitchens, and the Hufflepuff common room. Wren would be coming up eventually, and he was eager to know what the results of the Quidditch tryouts were. She had been so anxious about them yesterday, but he was certain that she’d make the team. Imelda hadn’t stopped crowing about her last goal, and when Imelda fixated on something Quidditch related, you knew it was impressive.
He heard her footsteps on the stairs below. It was easy to tell her from the other students, she took stairs faster than most, and always on her tiptoes. There was a certain unique cadence to her gait that he’d gotten familiar with the past few years, a small triple-step on occasion that signified she was trying to keep up with people with much longer legs. Her gait was as familiar to him now as Anne and Sebastian’s.
“Well?” he asked as she reached the top of the stairs, her steps smoothing out.
“I made Chaser!” Wren cried, the glee in her voice radiating around him like sunlight.
“See, all that worrying for nothing. I knew you’d make it,” he found himself grinning at her, equally pleased that he was right and happy for her success.
“Thank you Ominis, really. I’m sorry I took off so fast last night. I’m really glad you came. It meant a lot,” she thanked him.
“You’re welcome, and you don’t have to apologize. I know you and Sebastian worked hard this summer. Plus, I can’t monopolize all of your time, tempting as it is,” he teased. There was a kernel of truth to his words. He did wish he could monopolize all of her time. She was, by far, the only person he could tolerate at Hogwarts for any length of time without getting annoyed.
“Thanks for understanding. Did you manage to get a chance to speak with him yet?”
“Not yet. He was preoccupied last night it seemed. Turned in immediately when he got back to our room,” Ominis replied and then sighed, “I still don’t think I’m quite ready. Didn’t feel like the right time.”
“Do you think there ever is going to be a right time, or are you just putting it off because you know it’s going to be uncomfortable?” she asked.
Well that was on the nose wasn’t it? She had a point. She always had a point. There was never going to be a right time to talk to Sebastian. It was going to be painful and awkward. He supposed it would be worth it though, in the end. He did miss his best friend, and he knew that Sebastian had changed since their fifth year. He also knew how insufferable Sebastian was going to be about it after the fact. With a sigh he pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to relieve a bit of the tension between his eyes.
“You’re right, as usual,” he admitted, “I suppose I should just get it over with.”
“Really?” she gasped, and he heard the hope in her voice.
“Oh don’t sound so pleased with yourself,” he chastised.
“I just...I didn’t really expect...oh that will make things so much easier Ominis,” she exhaled in relief.
“For you maybe,” he muttered.
“For all of us, especially after-” she trailed off awkwardly.
“Especially after what?” he asked as his frown deepened. It deepened further as she pulled him aside and to a quieter area with less students. An unpleasant sensation in his chest started to grow.
“Especially after last night,” she replied eventually in a quiet voice.
“What, pray tell, happened last night?” Ominis asked, voice rigid. He didn’t like where this was going, and how quiet she had gotten. The trepidation in her voice and how she was fidgeting ever so slightly, her robes swishing gently with the movement.
“Um, well...we were talking about Quidditch and he...well he called me a people-pleaser and I got angry and stalked away, and then he chased me down and apologized...and then he apologized for fifth year and everything that happened and I really didn’t think he’d ever apologize for that. He really meant it too, I could tell. And then...I kissed him. I don’t know, it just happened,” she rambled, the words spilling out in a rush, as if she needed to get them all out at once.
Ominis felt as if the floor had fallen out from beneath him. As quickly as he could he clenched his jaw and focused on keeping his face as neutral as possible. He felt the downturn of his eyebrows, and blinked a few times, trying to process her words.
“And then I thought I was stupid and wrong and tried to leave...and then he kissed me back,” she finished, “and said he had wanted to do that for a long time and so had I. So yeah. That’s what happened.”
The emotions slammed into him one after the other. Shock. Dismay. Rage. Anguish. Hopelessness. Her words were a nightmare whispered into reality. He wanted her to take them back, to rewind the entire morning and start over. However, this wasn’t a nightmare, it was reality and it couldn’t be undone. The silence stretched out and he knew she was waiting on him for a response. The longer he took to answer, the more anxious she’d be. He knew it was hard for her to tell him this, and despite the nauseating wave of his own feelings, he couldn’t make this harder on her than it already was. She’d been through so much already, he couldn’t add one more thing to her plate to make her miserable.
“Are you certain it’s wise to get involved with him?” he asked, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. He was thankful it was just tight and hadn’t broken. Wren let out a small, unhappy laugh.
“No. It’s a terrible idea. I know what he’s like. Still...I can’t seem to help myself,” she admitted, and then after a moment asked if he was mad at her.
Mad at her? The idea was almost laughable. No. He wasn’t mad at her. How could she think that? He felt his brows relax a little as he ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t been mad at her in a long, long time. Not since Sebastian had shown her the Undercroft, and even then he had been more angry with Sebastian than with her. How could he possibly explain what he was feeling right now? He couldn’t. So he settled on the truth, but only the barest surface of it.
“No. I’m not, but I am concerned. Please be careful Wren. Sebastian is...well, Sebastian. He’s not known for his self-control,” Ominis cautioned, finding the words hard to get out.
“I know what I’m getting myself into,” she assured him.
“Does he make you happy?” he asked suddenly, desperately needing to know.
“Yes. He does,” she replied immediately. His heart broke further, and he never thought he’d be sad to hear that something made her happy. It was a selfish, unworthy thought and he smothered it as soon as he thought it.
“If that ever changes, please rethink this. I don’t think I can stand seeing you hurt again like you were in fifth year,” he admitted tightly.
In the aftermath of what Sebastian had done to his uncle, Wren had been a shell of her former self. He knew it wasn’t all Sebastian. It was the goblin attack on Hogwarts, and it was the death of Professor Fig, the impending exams and the countless other small pressures on her shoulders. Yet Sebastian seemed to be the catalyst to all the rest, but maybe that was just a projection of his own hurt. Still, it had killed him to see her suffer and he never wanted to witness that again.
He was startled when she hugged him, her embrace tight and he could feel her relax against him. She was warm and her skin was impossibly soft where it brushed against his. She smelled faintly of verbena and mallowsweet, a combination that always brought him comfort. He breathed in deep, allowing himself one moment of indulgence, and then exhaled in a deep sigh, knowing this was probably the last time he’d get to embrace her in a very long time if she was going to be with Sebastian. The thought made his shoulders sag. She squeezed him tight once more, and then pulled back. He longed to hold on, but forced himself to let go. It should not have been so difficult to do.
“Thank you for watching out for me, but I’ll be alright. I promise,” she assured him, her tone earnest and sweet. It was suddenly too much to take. He felt as if he was going to suffocate.
“That’s all I can ask for,” he replied with a small shrug as he turned his head towards the hallway, listening to the flow of students. It seemed to be slowing down. It was good enough. He needed to move. If he stood here one moment more he’d crawl out of his own skin.
“You should get to Potions, I’ll meet up with you in a few. I realized I left my quill behind,” he made up a flimsy excuse, amazed his voice came out normal as he turned and walked away before she could reply.
His mind raced. The Undercroft was too far, but it was far from the only place in the castle he could go if he wanted to be alone. There was a bathroom hardly anyone ever used in the south wing. His wand had picked up a hidden doorway behind a permanently out of order stall in his third year and he’d never heard anyone else talk about it. It was there that he slipped into now, making sure the door latched behind him. The room was over-warm, as there was a small boiler pumping away. It was a perplexing thing to find in a bathroom but Hogwarts was full of strange mysteries.
Ominis flicked his wand savagely and the Imperturbable charm took effect. He felt the slight change in the air and the way that sound moved differently around the small bubble he had conjured around himself. He slid to the floor without a sound as he crumpled inwards, allowing the emotions to overwhelm him completely. His wand fell from his hands as he clenched them into fists as hard as he could and brought them to his face.
His tears came hot and fast, but he made no sound even though he had thrown up a spell to prevent anyone from hearing him. It was as if the sounds had lodged themselves deep in the broken remains of his heart and were trapped there. The sobs came in painful bursts, his lungs feeling too small and constricted to fully express how badly he was hurting.
This could not be happening. Not like this. Not after all this time. Maybe he was still asleep somehow and this was just a nightmare and he’d wake from it if he could just force his eyes open.
It was denial. Pure and simple. Even in his nightmares he’d never felt like his chest was being torn in two. No...this was real, and it was awful. The two people he cared about the most had gone and developed feelings for each other, and he was going to be left behind.
He had been in love with Sebastian for as long as he could remember. Madly, deeply, and silently in love with him. He knew there was no way that Sebastian would ever return his affections, not with the way he talked about girls, so Ominis had been content to just be his friend. To be in his presence and to be a part of his life in whatever means he could be. Being his best friend was better than nothing, and he had been trying to convince himself for years that it was enough.
Then Wren Hawthorne had been unceremoniously thrust into his life, invited to the Undercroft by Sebastian of all people. He had been livid at the time, and resentful of her presence, especially since Sebastian seemed keen on her. Then, slowly, something had changed. She had somehow eased her way under his armor. Her compassion and genuine good nature reminded him of all the best parts of his Aunt Noctua, without any of the negative family ties.
While Sebastian had manipulated them both into finding Slytherin’s Scriptorium, Wren had been more curious about Ominis’ aunt and what had happened to her. When they had found her bones, Wren had been genuinely heartbroken for Ominis. When Sebastian had told them that Ominis had to cast the torture curse on one of them, Ominis had all but shut down. Wren had been the one to calm him down and promise that she wasn’t going to make him relive that experience. Sebastian had been annoyed with him, but Wren had been compassionate. Then she had taken the curse herself so they could escape.
That alone would have been enough to endear her to him, but then she had gone and surprised him further after Sebastian had run off with his book. Still trembling from the effects of the curse, she had managed to recover his aunt’s bones, wrapping them safely in her cloak. She had insisted that it wasn’t right that Noctua was stuck in that horrible place. No one had ever done anything that kind for him in his whole life, and she was a near stranger. They found a place together to bury her bones a week later, and she had cried for a woman she didn’t even know.
Wren slowly became the one good thing in his life as Sebastian went further and further down a path he could not, and would not follow. They both had tried to be the voice of reason with Sebastian, but he was too far gone. Ominis never really stopped loving Sebastian, not really, but there were so many conflicting emotions when it came to him that he just found it easier to focus on Wren. Wren who made him laugh and who made him feel like he had been thrust into the sunlight after being in the dark for far too long.
So wasn’t this the cruelest joke the universe could play on him, both of the people he loved had found love with each other. He was truly alone, and nothing had ever hurt more. Life wasn’t fair. Few knew that better than Ominis did, yet never had he felt it so keenly as he did right now. It was almost enough to send his sobs into laughter.
He couldn’t even talk about this situation with anyone. His aunt was long dead and the rest of his family was out of the question. He certainly couldn’t bring it up with Sebastian or Wren. He couldn’t even tell Anne, because he was certain that she was holding a candle for him. The irony of that wasn’t lost on him. He cared deeply for Anne, but he had always seen her as more of a sister. He couldn’t destroy her heart to help mend his own.
It wasn’t as if it mattered anyway. Even if he could have had something with one of them, it never would have lasted. Hadn’t his family told him enough times that he was expected to marry a pureblood of their choosing to keep the bloodline pure? What good was getting into a relationship now if it was just going to be torn from him later, wounding him and whomever he was involved with. It was inevitable. He could run from his family as long as he had Hogwarts, but after? No. His fate was set in stone, and it was a dismal one.
That thought should have been enough to keep him from ever seeking affection. It should have kept him from hoping against hope that someone would find him worthy of loving despite his family, his blindness, his bitterness, his weakness. It didn’t. He ached constantly from the want of it; the desperate, overwhelming desire to be wanted by someone he wanted in return.
His breathing hitched in his chest, but the sobs were easing. The pain in his chest was mirrored by a duller one from his hands. The air smelled of copper and salt. He had broken the skin on his palms with his fingernails, despite how short he kept them. Slowly he unclenched his fists and tried to breathe. Heartbreak was just pain after all, and he had endured pain all of his life. What was one more hurt added to the long list? He’d survived against all odds so far. He could survive this. He just wasn’t sure how.
The sobs eventually stopped, his tears drying on his cheeks and his breath evening out. He was spent, both physically and emotionally. When had he last broken down in this manner? Had he ever broken down in this manner? Certainly not since he came to Hogwarts. Maybe not even then. He felt hollow and wrung out. He certainly wasn’t going to Potions class today.
“Fuck,” he spat, barely resisting the urge to slam his fist against the floor. The urge was there but he pushed it down, pushed it back. He was not his brother, or his father. He was not Sebastian. He would not throw things, hit things, fly off the handle, make some impulsive decision, or storm around like a child throwing a tantrum. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel the anger boiling up to take the place of his tears. He simply sat with the anger, trembling slightly as it coursed through him.
His anger wasn’t towards Wren or Sebastian. Merlin knew they were just trying to find an ounce of happiness after all the trauma they had been through. The anger was towards himself. He hated that he couldn’t just accept what his future held for him. He hated that small pearl of hope that he kept close to his heart that he refused to let go of. The hope that despite his circumstances, he too would find himself worthy of being loved. Worthy of finding someone he could connect with. Worthy of someone who wasn’t as full of poison as he was.
His fists were clenched again, and the metallic scent of blood was starting to make him nauseous. With a great deal of effort he forced his hands to open. The pain in his hands was dull, a low buzz to his senses. Ominis groped for his wand, finding it on the second try. His hand ached when he gripped it. He pushed the wand tip into the wound on his non-dominant hand and cast a basic healing spell. The pain faded and the wound closed. He did the same for his other hand and then slumped back against the wall, his head hitting falling backwards to rest on the cool tile. If only the spell could heal the deeper wound inside.
He was going to have to perfect his acting skills if this was going to be his new reality. There was no way he could ever let Wren or Sebastian know how badly their relationship was going to affect him. It wouldn’t be fair to them. He was used to swallowing his feelings; used to pushing his desires aside; used to faking his way through every interaction with his family. He knew how to play a part. A proper Gaunt. A perfect Slytherin. The helpless blind kid. A perfect side-kick. The clueless childhood friend. Whatever the situation called for, he could play the role, shoving himself into whatever shape he needed to be in to please who he was with. At what point did he lose his original shape? What was he beneath the act? Did it even matter?
A deep sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed at his face with one hand. He was so very tired. Tired in a way that went past the heaviness in his eyes. It went bone deep, a weariness that physically weighed him down and made his shoulders slump. It might have just been the rapid onslaught of emotions, or maybe he was wrung out from crying, but he didn’t think he could stand if he wanted to. Ominis hugged his legs to his chest and let his forehead fall onto his knees. His eyes slid closed. The room was too warm. He wanted nothing more than to simply melt into the floor and not exist until he felt human again. If only that were possible.
---
He startled awake with a gasp as one of his legs slipped and his chin smacked into his chest. Falling asleep hadn’t been his intention, but apparently he had needed it. He rubbed at his face to shake off the residual drowsiness. His eyes stung and felt swollen, and his throat was horribly dry. The ache in his chest hadn’t receded, but at least he no longer felt like an exposed nerve. It wasn’t ideal, but he could at least function.
Ominis struggled to his feet with effort. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting on the floor. His legs were impossibly stiff. Too long then. Wren would probably be worried that he hadn’t shown up to class. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small pocket watch his mother had gifted him on his acceptance to Hogwarts. He pushed the clasp and it rang out the time in soft, tiny chimes. It had been running a bit late recently, but it was close enough.
“Shit,” he sighed as he listened. He had missed not only Potions, but lunch, and dinner. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t hungry. Food was the last thing on his mind, as was going back to his room. The thought of having to put on the act right now was too much. He wanted comfort. Usually that meant being around Wren. Once it had meant being with Sebastian. Both of those options were clearly off the table.
Ominis moved out of the stall at last, stretching his back out as he moved. He really should find better places to take impromptu, emotionally wrung out naps. The floor clearly hadn’t done him any favors. His Imperturbable charm had dropped the moment he had fallen asleep, but no one had found him. There were no sounds from the bathroom so he stepped out of the stall. Moving to a sink he set his wand down and washed the remainder of the blood off of his hands, and then washed his face in the coldest water he could stand. That helped wake him up fully. The shock to his system was a blessing. Something to concentrate on outside of his own body. Yes, that’s what he needed. Something external to focus on....which meant one place really.
---
The music hall was blissfully empty. He called out to Professor Yamaoka, but no one answered. The relief he found in that was nearly palpable. If he hadn’t been able to use the room tonight he may have resorted to simply downing a sleeping potion so he didn’t have to sit with his own thoughts any longer.
He sat down on the bench and let his hands run over the keys of the piano. They were cool to the touch, a welcome, familiar texture beneath his fingers. His aunt had been the one to encourage his mother to get him piano lessons when he was young. She also knew how to play and he had always begged her to do so whenever she came to visit. Her love of the instrument transferred to him immediately and he had never tried harder to learn to do something in his whole life.
Playing became one of his few escapes when he was home. No one bothered him when he played, and nothing was expected of him. His father and brother had no love for music, and usually stayed away from the room altogether. Occasionally his mother would stop to listen, but those instances were far and few between. It was the one thing that really, truly belong to him, and he held onto that fiercely.
He hadn’t expected Hogwarts to have a piano that he could use when he had first showed up, but when he had mistakenly walked into the music room in his first year and heard it, he had wanted nothing more than to see if he could play it. He didn’t have room in his schedule for music class, nor did he really want to play with others. Instead he asked Professor Yamaoka if there was any chance he could play alone if no one was using it. The professor was kind and truly had a passion for music. He was more than happy to help Ominis come up with an arrangement that worked for them both. As long as the room was open, Ominis could play. If a class or a private lesson came in when he was playing, he would have to vacate the room. That was more than fair, and Ominis quickly learned the schedule so he could find time alone each week to play without being interrupted.
Ominis exhaled long and hard until all the breath left his body. When he finally breathed in, he started to play. He had been working on this song for a little over a year, and it was reaching the point where he was nearly finished. It always felt like it was missing something, a harmony or bridge. He was still trying to figure that part out.
He had played this song so many times he didn’t even have to think about it as he positioned his fingers on the right keys. It was familiar, and it was a relief to have something familiar right now, something he could always rely on. He would play the melody with one hand, and the harmony with the other. Ominis closed his eyes and focused on channeling what he was feeling into the song.
Usually the song was quick and lilting with a simple harmony. Tonight, however, he wasn’t feeling it. His heart couldn’t bring the joy into the song like he normally could. He tried focusing on the subject of the song, trying to conjure the feeling that the subject made him feel, but that just made his hands feel heavy and his heart sore.
Instead of giving up he simply leaned into it. He took the tempo down and played the song at a quarter of the speed he normally did. The notes were still lilting, to a degree, but much slower. It made the song a bit more melancholy than he originally intended, but it worked. He kept up the simple harmony for the first iteration of the melody, letting the vibrations soothe him as he played. When he came to the next section, it was as if his left hand simply moved of it’s own accord. He changed up the harmony, making it more elaborate. The deeper notes hit a resonance that made his heart ache, and offered a nice balance to the lilting melody.
When he finished the song, he exhaled in satisfaction. This was what the song was missing. Slower, and a bit more complex, and it finally felt right. He played it again, trying to capture each note in his mind. There was one section he hadn’t been totally happy with, but with a few note changes he knew it would be perfect.
He reached over to his bag and pulled out his dictation quill. It was a different spell to create music instead of letters, but he knew it all the same. Professor Yamaoka had asked if he’d record his songs on paper once he was finished composing after he heard Ominis playing original music the year before and Ominis had agreed. There was always a stack of blank paper left in the piano stand for his use. He set up the empty sheets and the quill and then played for the final time.
He channeled everything he had into the song now that he knew how he wanted it to sound. Every ounce of heartache, sadness, pain, and loss seemed to be channeled from his heart, through his fingers, and into the melody. The song had never sounded more complete than it had in that moment, and there was something so fulfilling in hearing this final version that a weight shifted off of his heart as the last notes rang out and faded. It was finally done. He hummed in satisfaction as he gathered the sheet music. His very first original song, and he was awfully proud of it.
A noise behind him made him go still. He turned towards the noise with a frown.
“Professor?” he called, wondering if the professor had been listening in.
“No, it’s me.”
There was a sort of surreal absurdity to the moment. How, after all this time, when he finally got the song just the way he wanted, the subject of the song seemed to magically appear as if summoned. He half wanted to laugh, and half wanted to rip the pages up. Instead he put up the mask.
“What are you doing here? It’s nearly curfew!” he scolded her.
“Wha-what am I doing here? What are you doing here? I’ve been looking for you all day! Where have you been!” she cried, and he heard the anger in her voice as she stormed up the stairs towards him. Why did she have any right to be angry after the bombshell she had dropped on him earlier.
“Well clearly I’m here to play Gobstones,” he snapped, sarcasm rising to his lips as easily as the melody had to his fingers just a few minutes ago.
“Ominis! I mean it. You never came to Potions and you weren’t at dinner. I was worried sick. I’ve been looking for you. Sebastian has been looking for you!” she cried.
He knew she must have really been worried if she had Sebastian looking for him, knowing that they still weren’t talking. His irritation bled out of him all at once, leaving him more tired than ever.
“I-I know. I’m sorry to worry you. I just needed to be alone. I was…a bit overwhelmed today,” he admitted, embarrassed and guilty that his meltdown had caused her to worry. Despite how he was feeling about the situation, he didn’t want to cause trouble for her.
“Oh. You were?” she asked, and the way she went from angry to concerned so fast made his guilt ten times worse.
“Yes. Sometimes being around too many people just gets to me and I just need to go somewhere quiet. I wouldn’t have been able to pay attention at all in Potions, so instead of potentially blowing something up, I figured it would be better to just take some time to get myself back in order,” he explained. It was a poor excuse, but it was as close to the truth that he was willing to go. She didn’t answer for some time, and he just waited her out. Sometimes that was all he could do.
“Was it my fault?” she asked, her voice soft and full of trepidation.
There it was. She knew something was up, she was aware that he wasn’t being honest. He hated to lie to her. She deserved so much better…but the truth? That was a hundred times worse than a lie. His mouth moved before he could think about it too much.
“No. It wasn’t. Not fully,” he blew out a sharp breath, “I-I got a letter from home today. My brother Marvolo wrote. His wife Gabrielle is with child. I’m going to be an uncle,” he replied, voice tight around the half-lie. He’d gotten the letter last week and had simply burned it. He didn’t give two shits about being an uncle to a nephew who would probably be as sadistic as his father. It worked though, any talk about his family put Wren on guard.
“Oh! That’s wonderful news...isn’t it?” she asked, with a slight hesitancy in her voice.
“I don’t know. Marvolo has always been the most...unstable of my siblings. I cannot imagine him holding a child, let alone raising one. Gabrielle isn’t much better. I was never close with either of them so I don’t think I’ll be expected to do much as an uncle. Still. I find myself worrying about the future my niece or nephew will have growing up with Marvolo. I hate to think the cycle will continue,” he sighed, his voice tight. The cycle would continue, as it had for years upon years. He and his aunt were the outliers, not the rule.
“Maybe you can take on the role of the only reasonable one in your family? Like your Aunt Noctua was for you?” she suggested and the hope in her voice tore at him. She was always looking for the silver lining.
“Doubtful. My father tolerated his sister. Marvolo does not tolerate me, especially if he thinks I might undermine him. I would probably end up doing more harm than good.”
“I’m sorry Ominis. I wish I could help,” she said, sadly.
“Me too. At any rate, I have time. She’s not too far along yet. The news just knocked me off balance...and your news as well. I just needed some time to myself to think through it all. I didn’t mean to worry you. I should have sent an owl but I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts,” he apologized with a small grimace at the continued lies. He hoped she’d let it go and they could just move on. Thankfully she seemed to do just that.
“It’s alright. I’m just glad that you’re okay. Do you often come here to play? I knew you had lessons as a child but I wasn’t aware you still played.”
“Professor Yamaoka is kind enough to let me borrow the piano when I feel the urge to play. I come maybe once a week. I don’t want to monopolize the instrument, but I also don’t want to get rusty. Playing is one of the few things that is mine alone. None of my family can play, though we have a piano at home. I can’t read music, obviously, but I’ve been told I have an ear for it. I can play most things fairly accurately after hearing them once or twice,” he told her.
“That’s amazing! You are really good Ominis. That song you were playing was absolutely beautiful. What was it called?” she asked and his heart dropped.
“Oh...um...well I haven’t decided on a name yet,” he stammered, another lie. He had always planned on calling it The Songbird. If he said that though, it would be a dead giveaway. He might as well call the song Wren and be done with it.
“You wrote that song?” she asked sounding shocked.
“Yes, I did. I’ve been working on it for a while now. Professor Yamaoka told me that I could use the piano whenever it was free as long as I made a record of what I played. I finally finished this one today and used a dictation spell to get the notes down. I’ll leave him the sheet before I go,” he explained.
“I had no idea, Ominis. I’m impressed! That must be difficult to write your own music,” she exclaimed and he felt a small flush of pleasure at her praise.
“Sometimes it’s harder than others. I’ve been working on perfecting this one for almost a year now. I think I finally got it today though...so it is ready for a name.” A different, less incriminating name.
“Did you have anything in mind?” she asked.
He was silent for a while as he thought. The Songbird now felt too optimistic for the changes that he had made today. He needed something less damning…but he was attached to the Songbird part. The melody was reminiscent of birds and he was hesitant to change it altogether. So he needed something a bit more complex. It hit a moment later and he replied.
“The Departure of the Last Songbird,” he decided and held his breath as he awaited her reaction.
“I was thinking of birds when you were playing. I think it’s a perfect name,” she said and he could hear the smile in her voice.
“You do?” he asked with a frown, surprised that she had picked up on the theme.
“Yes. I do,” she assured him.
He felt tips of his ears grow warm and was unable to help himself as he smiled for the first time since her news that morning. She moved nearer to him and he heard the scratching of the quill on paper.
“There, now it has a name,” she declared.
“Thank you. Say, what were you doing in here anyway? You don’t play anything...do you?” he asked, confused.
“I come here sometimes. I don’t play anything, but I love to listen. Music makes me feel lighter somehow. It lets me forget about whatever is on my mind, and just focus on what the sounds make me feel,” she admitted.
“What did my song make you feel?” he asked after a brief pause. Part of him was dying to know. The other was terrified of knowing. She hummed a little as she thought about it.
“Equal parts sad and hopeful, I think. The melody made me sad, but it was so beautiful, and as it went on the sadness kind of turned to a hesitant sort of hope? I don’t know if I can explain it better, but I didn’t want you to ever stop playing it,” she gave a little laugh.
Few had ever praised his playing, and no one had ever heard his original song before. To have her be the one to hear it first and approve? Well, it meant more than she’d ever know. He felt his ears growing hotter and ran a hand through his hair in his discomfort at the praise.
“Wow...thank you. That’s high praise. No one has ever heard me play that song but you,” he admitted when he felt he could trust his voice.
“Oh, I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have heard it...I do realize I was sort of spying...” she trailed off, sounding uncertain.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s nice to know what it sounds like from someone else's point of view. I’ve been playing it for so long that I’ve lost all objectivity with it,” he admitted and was amazed to find that he was smiling again. She was always making him smile, and it was almost infuriating. How did she always manage to slip under his carefully crafted armor to get at the very core of him?
“We should probably get going or we’re going to be caught after curfew,” Wren suggested and he nodded, then handed her the sheet music. He heard her footsteps move towards the professor’s desk, as he packed up his quill and gathered his bag. They walked in silence back to the Great Staircase where they would part for their respective common rooms.
“Ominis. Are you okay? Really?” she asked and the raw earnestness in her tone nearly broke him in two. He had really worried her with his disappearance. How could he even answer that question?
“No,” he admitted, surprising himself with the truth, “but I will be.”
Ominis hoped that he wasn’t lying to her again. He wanted to be okay, desperately…but things usually didn’t work out the way he wanted them to. She moved closer and her warm hand slid into his and she squeezed. His heart squeezed tightly at the same time. He desperately wanted her to stop touching him. Stop being so kind. Make this easier…but that wasn’t in her nature. He only hoped she would keep her touch to holding his hand. If she hugged him he’d simply shatter.
“Can I help?” she asked, voice soft and sweet and much too concerned for someone who had spent half the night lying to her face.
“Just...never change,” he managed before giving her hand a quick squeeze and then turning and trying to walk as casually as he could to his common room. He didn’t hear her walk away, and had a feeling she was watching him leave.
Ominis fought every urge in himself to run right back up the stairs, pull her into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could breath. To do so would be to damn himself completely. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t even do that to Sebastian, as angry as he still was with him. Instead he kept walking to the Slytherin common room, trying very hard not to fall apart all over again.