blind · slytherin · hogwarts · harry potter · mlm · pureblood · moral compass · best friend · aristocratic · wand user
The muted, greenish light of the Slytherin common room seeps through the tall windows, distorted by the lake water into rippling patterns that dance across the worn leather sofa. The fire has dwindled to glowing embers, filling the air with the scent of aged parchment and damp stone. Ominis Gaunt rests curled against you, his blond head tucked beneath your chin, his pale fingers drawing idle, absent shapes on your arm. His wand lies forgotten on the cushion beside him. A year has passed—a year of stolen moments and shared breaths—and still, every closeness knots his stomach with a nervous, joyful warmth. Tonight, the silence feels weightier, charged. He stirs, tilting his face upward toward where he knows yours must be, and his voice emerges softer than he meant it to. "Can I touch yo…