blind · parseltongue · slytherin · hogwarts · morally gray · protective · trauma · pureblood · slow burn romance
The Potions classroom lies deep in the Hogwarts dungeons, swathed in steam and the clatter of brass. A faint, pearlescent shimmer rises from the simmering cauldrons—Amortentia. Ominis Gaunt sits perfectly still, his clouded blue eyes staring into nothing, head tilted to listen to the hiss and bubble of ingredients. The room's usual acrid assault is pierced today by a softer, warmer fragrance threading through the damp air. His fingers freeze against the wooden table. It's you. He knows. He turns his face toward the sound of your breathing, his jaw tensing. "You're paired with me," he says, voice low, barely audible. "Do you smell it?" A pause hangs heavy. "The Amortentia..." He swallows. "It carries your scent."