Chapter 1
Chapter 1:
The year eighteen hundred and ninety-two was the seventh consecutive year for many at Hogwarts, though for Genevieve it was only the third. Oh how she wished to have participated from a younger age, though being undetected and born in such a small Welsh village prevented her from being present. Natsai would’ve discouraged Genevieve’s contrition each and every time she could manage, but Natsai was back in Uganda for part of the semester perhaps galivanting as her Animagus more worriless than she had been before given her older age. Or so Genevieve had hoped, that Natsai wouldn’t be getting herself into further trouble with the excessive bravery Natsai exuberantly exhibited post Harlow and Rookwood being brought to justice.
Genevieve missed Natsai, filling her mind with wonderful memories of her dear friend and all the time that entailed. She’d much rather think of these things to keep awake than listen to Professor Binns’ droll tone prattle on about muggle history and how it adheres to magic.
The only reason Genevieve took this class to begin with, was the singularly most notoriously missing person during this current period. Poppy took her time with other extracurriculars, Garreth was taking Potions III during this period, Leander was out and about possibly schmoozing with some sixth-year girl, and who knew about the rest. Ominis Gaunt however, Genevieve could guarantee was sleeping through this class in a nook or cranny of the DADA tower. The space beside her was left empty this time, Genevieve nearly fell asleep if not for the entertaining memories. Gaunt, Genevieve turned her attention to thoughts of the boy. He was nearly always sleeping since the energy of their fifth year faded and Sebastian was no longer present at Hogwarts, he could relax knowing that Sebastian was safe, and Anne was too. The thought of Ominis’ comfort caused her to smile mindlessly, catching the attention of Professor Binns who wisped himself beside her and cleared his throat.
Genevieve looked up slowly, her smile dropping ever so slightly at being caught with her head in the clouds. “Sir?” She spoke, trepidation wavering her voice. He simply shook his head and continued on for what felt like hours. In reality, the time that passed was no more than half an hour until class was dismissed. Genevieve scooped up her textbook and melded in with the crowd as the students clambered out the door and into the hall. A glowing light emitted among the other students; a wand attached to said light that stayed stationary while people moved around the body that held the wand. Ominis stood still, in all the hilarity that it was that he was waiting outside the very class that he was supposed to be taking.
“And where were you?” Her tone was jokingly defensive as she spoke, causing the boy the belt out a singular ‘ha’.
“Where am I always?” She walked forward and he matched pace, they fell into a comfortable rhythm as the hall emptied around them save for a few stragglers gathering into their groups to congregate.
“I do hope you slept well, Ominis. At the expense of not being my crutch during Professor Binns’ class.”
“I slept marvelously, but not at your expense, no. That, I feel excruciatingly awful about.”
“Certainly you do…” Genevieve trailed off, the smile in her tone as they walked several beats forward into the courtyard past the summoners court board. They stopped by the fountain, settling in on a stone ledge beside the water where it was quite cool. The air crisp, the stone beneath them elicited a shiver as she sat. It was a beautiful autumnal day, spent with a beautifully sleepy friend who allowed his eyes to shut and listen to the new birds as they let out chirps and the aimless chatter that surrounded them. A girl in a Quidditch cloak murmured not far from them amongst her friends, mentioning the upcoming winter's festival in Hogsmeade. Who she wished would ask her, who she wished wouldn’t, and what she would ideally wear to such an event.
Genevieve had never been to anything like the Yule festival, this was the first year that she could actually consider going out to be sociable and not with her wand at the ready. In a month's time, the halls would be decked with holly and garlands that would bring all shorts of joyful scents. Memories would unlock from her psyche, memories of fighting with Sebastian over a cure that couldn’t be found for his sister, memories of tears falling at hurtful words and her not-so-strong resolve falling. Ominis must’ve realized she was delving too far into her regrets and anger over the past, because his throat cleared and his hand clasped the cold stone beneath them in a gentle clapping motion.
“The Yule.” He stated, as if it were factual wherever he was going with his statement. “It’s almost around the corner. I hear you’ve not accepted a date yet. I know it’s early to ask, but you and I could attend.” He paused for a moment, almost as if he were trying to choke out the next words as they were too uncomfortable to emit from his throat. “As friends.” Or more, were the unspoken words that followed that sentence.
“Are you asking me to be your date romantically, or are you settling as a result of not knowing who else to ask? I’d rather not be a second choice.” Genevieve teased, bumping his hand with her own as she set her hands down on either side of her. She knew he was brave, she knew he would say how he felt if he were provoked. She simply wanted to hear him say the words.
If she thought for a second that he could, she would’ve thought that his eyes peered into hers at the question. His face may have gotten a bit hot, and he may have adjusted nervously. Genevieve couldn’t tell, Ominis had been so forthcoming since she had met him after all. The little romance that had been peeking into their friendship since she had returned from home their sixth year couldn’t have blindsided him.
He was quiet for what felt like too long, very nearly longer than the time it took in Professor Binns’ class.
“Well, I suppose I’m asking romantically.” She grinned at that, finally picking up her hand to rest it over his. He relaxed as much as he could’ve when she took the action, as much as he possibly could’ve. Just a smidgen.
“Well,” She mimicked him, “Then I suppose we’ll go together romantically.” His hand turned over beneath hers, allowing Genevieve to mold their hands together perfectly.