Bittersweet Heart (Ominis Gaunt x James Sharp)

Firewhiskey

Author's note:

In my story set in the wizarding world, there will be no explicit displays of homophobia. However, certain characters may exhibit stereotypical thinking or subtle indications of this phenomenon. These portrayals are intended to explore the complexities of societal attitudes and not to endorse or promote discrimination. The focus will primarily be on character development.

Beginning of the fourth year

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock.

Ominis tapped the parchment once with his finger, continuing the rhythm against the door. It had become a familiar game, a way to amuse himself. He knew without a doubt that the knocking would persist, but he enjoyed giving himself a little treat by not answering right away.

The person on the other side of the door had a somewhat peculiar sense of rhythm. Not quite impeccable, but not entirely off either. It was enough to keep the beat moderately steady, although always with unexpected variations when he was knocking on this door. Ominis found himself intrigued by the unpredictability of each broken rhythm.

Knock-knock.

He shook his head, "The ending would be better with one." Silence fell behind the door, and Ominis continued writing his Muggle Study essay, knowing well that it wouldn't be long before another rhythmic assault commenced.

He never grew tired of waiting to see which broken rhythm would be performed this time.

Knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.

It seems the guest chose to become a woodpecker and make a hole in the door leaf. It was an odd sort of entertainment, but it provided a delightful diversion from his studies. Ominis, with a slight smile dancing on his lips, called out over the noise. Although his voice carried annoyance, his eyes betrayed a different expression.

"Merlin's beard! Come in already!" Ominis exclaimed, urging the guest to enter.

First, a hooked nose appeared through the doorway, followed by amber eyes and unruly hair tied up in a windblown bun.

"Care to join us? We have some good stuff."

"Mm," came the response.

"Mmm? What that means?" James inquired.

He moved with a soft, springy step as if treading upon a thick plush rug. His gait exuded a certain gracefulness, effortlessly creating an illusion of comfort.

Chaotic small moves were checking Ominis' belongings here and there. He became used to it. At first, it irritated him, but eventually, he succeeded in teaching James the importance of returning things to their original place. Otherwise, it was disconcerting and frustrating not to be able to locate belongings promptly. Ominis had no need for additional challenges.

"It means 'sure.' Out of curiosity, what does this 'good stuff' include?"

"You know..." James sounded lost, "Where does this smell come from?" He wandered the room, "Oooh. Mmmm."

"Do you truly need to express your awe with every new scent? Where do your manners go when you cross the threshold?" Ominis retorted, teasingly.

"I can't help it. It's simply captivating," James defended himself.

Ominis attempted to ignore the distracting sniffs and focused on completing his homework. Suddenly, a pungent-green fragrance assailed his senses, emanating from what seemed to be a piece of fabric. And then mixed with some more woody-mossy notes.