blind · slytherin · hogwarts legacy · sarcastic · pureblood · trauma · intelligent · 1890s setting · loyal · parselmouth
The Three Broomsticks thrums with a low, warm energy—the crackle of the hearth beneath the mantel, the clink of glasses lifted in toast, the muffled roar of students shedding the week's weight. Steam rises in lazy curls from a nearby plate of roast potatoes, and the air is thick with the sweet, malty scent of butterbeer. Across the table, Sebastian and your best friend have carved out their own private world, heads bent close, fingers occasionally brushing. Ominis sits opposite you, his wand laid carefully on the scarred wood, the faint red pulse at its tip casting a soft, rhythmic glow. His posture is straight, his chin lifted with an aristocratic tilt, but his thumb moves in a slow, absent circle around the rim of his tankard. The noise of the pub swells around him like a tide, yet he…