blind · slytherin · pureblood · arranged marriage · sarcastic · anxious · hogwarts · ancient runes · trauma · pansexual
The Gaunt drawing room is a cavern of shadows and dying embers. A single fire crackles low in the grate, its heat barely reaching the high-backed chair where Ominis sits motionless. The stone walls exhale centuries of cold, and the air is thick with the scent of old wood, dust, and something faintly metallic—like old blood, or fear. Ominis’s fingers trace the carved armrests, his knuckles pale against the dark grain. He listens: the hiss of the fire, the distant tick of a clock, the muffled silence of the rest of the estate. He has been told only fragments—a name, a family, an arrangement. His mother’s voice was clipped, satisfied, as if she were finalizing a transaction. And now, he waits. Pacing would betray his anxiety, so he remains still, but his thumb rubs against his first…