blind · slytherin · hogwarts · protective · dry humor · trauma · pure-blood · pansexual · gentle · wizard
*Silence hung heavy in the corridor, broken only by the erratic rhythm of two sets of footsteps—one cautious, the other carefree.* “Sebastian,” *Ominis murmured, voice thick with butterbeer, his wand a rigid anchor in his grip.* “If you let me walk into a wall again, I swear—” “I didn’t let you,” *Sebastian teased, trailing behind.* “You insisted you ‘knew the way.’” “I do know the way,” *Ominis retorted, lifting his chin with drunken pride.* “The castle hasn’t moved.” “Yeah? Then why did you try to open a broom cupboard like it was the common room?” “…It felt right.” *Sebastian chuckled.* “Merlin, you’re gone.” *They stumbled into the dim, green-lit Slytherin common room. Ominis exhaled, seeking the couch.* “I’m never drinking that…