Scars

It had become routine for you at that point - attend classes, try to make sense of ancient magic, help out folk in various hamlets, rescue magical creatures, disband goblin camps, and of course, subduing poachers, Ashwinders, and the ocassional troll or dugbog. While it didn’t start off easy (you constantly needed to replenish your stock of wiggenweld), gradually your skills were honed enough to last several hours or even days as you traversed all over the map. But such skill didn’t come without its risks.

You felt the wind knocked out of you as the troll slammed its club onto the ground, mere inches away from where you stood. The impact sent you hurtling a few feet backwards, your back collided with a tree and something cracked.

The back of your skull throbbed as you slid onto the ground, landing in a crumpled heap by the tree’s twisted roots. Your shoulders stung as you pushed yourself up, gritting your teeth as you attempted to stand. The throbbing in your head made you stumble slightly, the world tilting somewhat as you tried to reorient yourself.

With a pained groan, a hand reflexively reached for the pouch on your belt but was met with empty space. You were out of wiggenweld potions.

Your focus shifted back to the troll as it roared, preparing itself to charge. You readied yourself, wand gripped tightly. The troll was weakened, a spell or two should finish it off.

It bellowed and stomped its way toward you, club raised above its head, ready to bring it down.

You rolled away at the last minute, ignoring how your body screamed with agony at the strain, before firing a spell at its back.

“Bombarda!”

A jet of light shot from your wand, colliding with the troll and exploding on impact. The troll let out a pained roar before collapsing on the ground, motionless.

You panted, standing still for a few moments to ensure the troll was slain. However, the feeling of triumph was replaced with pain as you staggered forward with a gasp. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving you very aware of the throbbing of your skull and the ache between your shoulders. On top of that, you were also covered in various cuts and scrapes, with dirt streaked across your exposed skin.

With a wince, you hobbled toward the nearest Floo station, thankfully not far from the clearing you were in.

You hadn’t realized how much time had passed while you were in the Forbidden Forest. The tall trees almost obscured the sky, making it difficult to tell day from night. By the time you stumbled into the Slytherin common room, the whole place was silent. You breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight - it negated having to explain your battered appearance.

The sound of the small waterfall greeted your ears as you approached the stone steps. It was definitely past curfew and you felt grateful that there hadn’t been a prefect by the Floo station when you arrived. One of your hands brushed against the cold walls as you inched downwards.

Once you felt confident that there was not a soul awake, you rushed down the stairs. Suddenly, a trickle of something warm rolled down your cheek. You paused, lifted a hand to wipe away whatever it was, before you pulled back to inspect it.

You were met with red.

You sucked in a shaky breath, realization dawned on you that there was a gash on the right side of your forehead, probably from when one of the troll’s rocks had collided with you earlier. At this, your pace quickened until you reached the bottom of the stairs.

Your footsteps echoed in the empty space, seemingly magnified by the chamber-like architecture. You stopped to swipe at the blood that continued to trickle down your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Hello?” A voice cut through the silence, startling you to a halt.

Your eyes quickly scanned the common room, panicked as you looked for who might’ve spoken.

The seats by the fireplace were empty, so were the various chairs scattered about. For a brief moment, you thought that perhaps it was one of the enchanted paintings on the wall, disturbed from their slumber. Just when you were about to relax, your eyes landed on a figure by the large window that looked into the lake.

Ominis. What was he still doing up?

The Gaunt boy faced the window, but turned slowly in your direction, probably trying to pinpoint the sounds he heard. His brow creased as he concentrated.

You sucked in a breath, hoping that if you stood still, he’d brush off your earlier footsteps.

He stood, wand in hand as usual, its tip glowed red as he made his way towards you. The distance shrank swiftly with each stride of his long legs. Your heart sank.

You feebly backed away with each step he took, trying to be as quiet as a mouse. Deep down, you knew it was futile, he could definitely sense your presence. But a small part of you hoped he was just going to return to his room.

“I know you’re there, you’re not as quiet as you think.” He said suddenly, his pale blue eyes narrowed, as if he were staring right at you.

Busted.

You shrank from his gaze, wringing your hands together nervously. “Oh, hi Ominis. I didn’t expect you to still be awake at this hour.”

“I could say the same for you.” He scoffed. “Where have you been anyway?” A frown marred his handsome features as he attempted to assess your earlier whereabouts.

A twinge of guilt coursed through you as you realized that you were the cause of that frown. You hated upsetting him, the look just didn’t suit him at all.

You opened your mouth to reply but stopped when you realized that he was using his other senses to try and piece together where you’d disappeared to. Prior interactions with Ominis had taught you that his hearing and smell were sharper than most others’ to make up for his lack of sight.

With that thought, you decided to take another step back, just to try and prevent him from picking up the smell of pine, fir, mud, and maybe even troll.

He seemed to anticipate your reaction however, taking a larger step forward, nearly closing the distance between you. “You’ve been in the Forbidden Forest, haven’t you?” He accused, brows pinched together in disapproval.

“N-no,” You argued weakly, lacking any proper conviction as you nearly shrank away from his prying gaze. He couldn’t see, but it almost felt like he was boring a hole through you. “I-I was j-just looking for l-leaping t-toadstools by the forest entrance.”

It was a flimsy lie but you didn’t exactly have time to think of a better one. While the chances were slim, you still hoped he would drop the subject.

Ominis had backed you against the wall with his maneuver, you realized. You were too busy trying to distance yourself from him, you didn’t notice that you were now trapped. The only way to the dorms from your position was to move past Ominis himself, but he blocked you from doing so with his body towering over you.

You looked up at him, realizing just how much taller he was. His pale blue eyes grew stormier by the second as he took in your words, his frown now a full fledged scowl.

“Liar. You reek of troll - and trolls aren’t found unless you go into the heart of the forest.” He retorted.

The instant he called you a liar, you bristled. Why did it matter where you’d gone? It wasn’t as if you were close friends - you had a few classes together and were in the same house, that’s about it.

He was acting like a caretaker, scolding you as if you were his ward. But you were far from a helpless child, and just as you straightened yourself up to tell him so, the blood that oozed from your gash trickled into your eye.

Instead of biting back like you planned, you stumbled against the wall, one of your hands shot out to try and find something to steady yourself with. Your other hand clutched at your eye, hissing with pain as you reflexively closed it.

Ominis’ disapproving scowl quickly morphed into one of concern the moment he heard your pained voice. He bent down, closer to your head this time.

“You’re injured.” He remarked, his tone a mixture of accusatory and worried. He attempted to reach for your hands, probably so he could inspect the severity of your wounds. Instead, you turned your head so that the gash faced away from him.

“I’m fine,” You croaked out, swallowing the cry of pain that threatened to escape. “I just need to wash up and I’ll be good as new.”

With unexpected force, Ominis’ hand darted out, grasping your free wrist. Instinctively, the hand that covered your eye reached out to push him away but he anticipated it, catching it as well. He shook his head and you blushed, somewhat indignantly, feeling like you were being scolded.

You wanted to flinch away but he kept you firmly in his grasp. His touch against your skin was almost like ice as his long fingers explored the exposed skin along your arms. It didn’t take long for him to feel the raised skin from various cuts and how the surrounding areas were warm and inflamed.

Ominis’ unseeing gaze moved from your arms towards your face and you could swear he was looking right at you. His nose wrinkled as he smelled the unmistakable coppery stench that filled the air now that your gash was uncovered.

“You’re bleeding.”

His pale blue eyes narrowed, a darkness settled on his features and you found yourself shuddering involuntarily, whatever protest you had died on your lips. He tugged on your wrists, still firmly locked in his grasp.

You stumbled forward slightly, but Ominis quickly steadied you with his strong grasp.

“You’re coming with me.” Ominis stated though it was more of a command, his tone making it clear that there was no room for argument. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled you along and you silently wondered where he was taking you.

Approximately a half hour later, both of you sat in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. Ominis had insisted that he clean the gash on your forehead, despite numerous protests that you could handle it, thanks for his concern, and insistence that you were fine. More than once, he had to slap your hands away from the open wound while he cleaned it, merely shushing you when you complained.

The gash turned out to be deeper than you initially thought. While Ominis worked on disinfecting it, you gritted your teeth from how much it hurt, hands balled into fists in your lap, eyes screwed shut as you attempted to ignore the sting.

The whole time, he had a frown on his face as he wordlessly tended to you.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get your skull cracked open.” He stated once he was finished.

You hadn’t answered.

Now you sat with your arms crossed, pouting like a petulant child as Ominis prepared whatever concoction of healing poultice beside you. Your cheeks burned with a fierce blush and you felt thankful that he couldn’t see it.

While be busied himself with the mixture, you took the time to inspect your arms. You’d taken off your robes earlier, to make it easier to see any injuries you sustained underneath. It was relatively easy to heal the many minor cuts and bruises, and you admired how it looked as if they’d never been there at all.

Your attention shifted to Ominis as he turned to face you. He held a small bowl with what looked like a cream inside of it.

He scooted closer to you and blood instantly rushed into your cheeks. You avoided looking at his face as one of his hands reached to grasp under your chin.

With a deftness as if he had done this a million times before, Ominis carefully applied the poultice on and around the wound on your forehead. Your eyes screwed shut again as the stinging sensation returned, but you were surprised once it melted away into a mild throb.

Once the feeling of his fingers brushing against your forehead stopped, you sighed in relief, fingers uncurling on your lap as you opened your eyes again. You quickly noticed how he still had his fingers under your chin. He surely felt the warmth of your blush.

His sightless gaze was fixated on where he imagined your eyes to be. He didn’t say anything, but he seemed to be troubled. His lips were set in a thin line, as if he were thinking intently about something.

Minutes passed, though both of you remained rooted. The fireplace crackled and popped, the flames licking at the wood, casting a dancing orange glow on your figures.

Eventually, you cleared your throat, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

“Th-thanks for your help, Ominis…”

Ominis nodded slowly, although his expression still seemed faraway. He didn’t release his grip on your chin though.

You opened your mouth to say something else but he cut you off.

With a firm voice he said, “Please be more careful out there.” He shook his head. “It worries me when my friends get hurt.”

Guilt coursed through you at his words. It felt awful knowing just how much your safety weighed on him.

“I promise I’ll be more careful.” You echoed softly, voice hardly above a whisper. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

He hummed at your response, though he didn’t seem fully convinced. However, the ghost of a smile formed on his lips.

You thought carefully about what to say next. Just as he was about to pull away, you spoke.

“But who will take care of your scars?”

Ominis froze, the fingers under your chin stiffened. “What scars?”

At this, you lifted one of your hands to slowly rest against his chest, right over his heart.

“The ones in here.” You murmured.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted your head upward and sealed your lips with a kiss.