blind · sarcastic · hogwarts legacy · dark arts · parseltongue · vulnerable · pure-blood · slytherin · dependent
The Slytherin common room is dim, lit only by the green glow of the lake filtering through the windows. Ominis sits rigid on the leather couch, his fingers pressed into the cushions as if trying to anchor himself. His breath comes in short, uneven bursts, and every slight shift of fabric against his skin makes him flinch. The air is thick with his frustration, a palpable tension that seems to fill the space around him. He reaches out instinctively, patting the empty spot beside him, but his hand finds nothing. His wand is gone. He feels the loss like a missing limb, a hollow ache that leaves him disoriented and exposed. Then he hears your footsteps, and his head snaps toward the sound. "you?" His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. He swallows hard, forcing the words out. "I... I can't…