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spaceyaceface · 10 months

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Hatred - Safety Ch 2

Ominis Gaunt x f!Ravenclaw!Reader (Reader is not MC)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Dueling, very minor injury

Summary: Y/N L/N had always despised Ominis Gaunt. He was everything she hated about her life. As the only daughter to a wealthy pure-blood family, she knew it was inevitable that she would someday find herself in an arranged marriage.

But why did it have to be him?

Or, a classic arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn.

Chapter One

Also Available on AO3

Ominis had always prided himself in being able to read others’ emotions, despite his lack of sight. He could not see the expressions on people’s faces, but he could hear the subtle tones of their voices, the way their breathing changed when they tenses. He could feel the power and the passion coming off them like waves, and he had spent years tuning himself to understand it.

That being said, it took almost no effort to know that Y/N’s feelings from that morning had not changed in the slightest.

She was awfully short with her friend (Constance, was it?) whenever they spoke. Her breathing was deep in an effort to quell the anger flowing through her veins. He could feel her attention shifting to him, over and over again, as the class went on.

He could feel himself getting more and more annoyed by it.

There was nothing they could do at the moment—didn’t she see that? He wanted this over as soon as possible, but if he ditched classes and moped around, it would do nothing but put him in his parent’s bad graces. Being angry did nothing but raise your blood pressure and cause rash decisions to be made. Was it so impossible for her to put her emotions aside for a few hours?

He was being hypocritical—he recognized that. Every movement she made in her seat made his eye twitch. All he could think about her assumptions she had made of him, that he had wanted to rope her in some engagement. The thoughts floated around inside his head, making concentrating on anything but her a few seats away almost impossible.

“You look like someone snapped your wand,” Sebastian said quietly as people broke into groups to practice spells.

Ominis’s frown deepened, if it was even possible. “You’ll have to forgive me for being in a foul mood. I don’t think I’ll be shaking it any time soon.”

Sebastian hummed. “She’s glaring at you. Again.”

“You mean it hasn’t been one long, continuous glare?”

“No, she stopped for a moment to glare at something Constance said. But she got right back to it, don’t worry.”

Ominis almost chuckled at that. “What is it that we’re even supposed to be doing? My mind was elsewhere.”

“Changing the color of the cloth on our desk.”

“Wonderful, I couldn’t imagine a more useful spell for the likes of me.”

Sebastian laughed at that. The sound lessened Ominis’s dark mood a bit—it had been rarer to hear his dear friend’s laugh since Anne had fallen ill, and any chance there was so help him feel better was one worth taking. He was sorry that such misfortune had fallen to all the members of their trio this final school year.

Anne’s absence was felt constantly. Over the years, Ominis had grown to think of her as his sister—she acted the role much better than his own older sister, Vidia, had ever done. Both she and Sebsatian had befriended him when he was afraid no one else would. He would forever be grateful for the Sallows who had so readily taken him in as one of their own.

He sighed. He’d have to write to her. See what advice she could offer. Sebastian was always the most rash of their trio, acting on the first thought that came to his head. Ominis was often the opposite—reserved nearly to a fault. Anne was their middle ground, the level head who always considered all aspects. When he and Sebastian fought, she was able to calm them down enough to see sense and make up. Since she had gotten ill, Ominis and Sebastian had been doing their best to carry on. He knew that no matter what, they would remain like brothers, but it didn’t mean things weren’t difficult sometimes.

He wondered if Anne would have been able to talk to Y/N. Sebastian had charm, yes, but Anne had the ability to wrap anyone she met around her finger—it was what had enabled her to get away with so much during her time in Hogwarts. If anyone had the capability to calm the beast that was Y/N Y/N, it would have been her.

The rest of the class passed by without incident. Ominis practiced the charm very lazily, seeing as he would never have much use for it, and Sebastian neglected to practice at all, claiming he’d mastered it in his third year. It wasn’t long until the seventh year students were making their way over to Professor Hecate’s classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Ominis sighed as they walked over, knowing he’d have to endure her glares in that class as well. He pulled out his wand to guide him, trying not to pay attention to her brooding a few steps ahead of him. Sebastian chattered on about some more advanced color-changing spells he’d studied a while back, and Ominis let his voice drown out the rest of the students around them.

When they walked into class, Ominis realized immediately that this would be a practical lesson. The tables were all pushed aside, leaving a wide empty space to practice spells in the middle. Professor Hecate stood in front of them as they gathered around.

“Welcome, students,” she began. “Today we’ll be learning a defensive spell. While some of you may think it less effective than other spells, I guarantee you in a duel, you’ll want every weapon in your arsenal. It has come in handy for me on more than one occasion.”

She went on, explaining the Confundus Charm in detail—from her descriptions and the aid of his wand, Ominis was able to understand the motions, and listened carefully to her pronunciation. With his blindness, Ominis had come into the school with people expecting him to always be a few steps behind—he did all he could from his first day on to put that to rest. Say what they will about him or his family, but he wanted all to see he was a more than capable wizard. He had proven that throughout his years, catching on to spells quickly; often quicker than most in his year.

Professor Hecate demonstrated the charm to them all (she did so by casting it on Duncan Hobhouse—this amused Ominis greatly) and then turned back to all of them. “I’ll now pair you off to practice the spell. Only Confundus, Protego, and Basic Cast, please.”

Ominis’s stomach dropped. His luck couldn’t be so horrible, could it? But as more and more names were called, names that were not his or hers, he felt the stress building within him.

“Ominis Gaunt and Y/N L/N, if you would work together, please.”

If there was such thing as a God, he must surely be laughing at his misery. He felt her angry presence approach him, and he stood straighter, trying to prepare himself for whatever might come.

She didn’t say anything to him, just stood there as other students around them got to work, practicing the spell in makeshift duels. The silence annoyed him.

“Let’s get this out of the way, then,” he said, spreading his feet a bit to give him the proper stance to duel. He heard her footsteps on the ground as she did the same.

“Confundo,” she said lazily. The spell shot at him and he deflected easily, coming back with a basic cast. Once again, the spell bounced off the shield charm. Y/N made a low noise, almost like a growl.

“What’s wrong with you?” she said, voice low but full of venom. “I thought you were upset. Why are you so calm?”

“Oh, I am upset,” Ominis replied. “I just don’t go about showing it off like a prefect’s badge. On the other hand, I’m surprised you’re not accusing me of telling Professor Hecate to set the two of us up.”

“Confundo!”

He countered. He could practically hear her teeth grinding together, feeling the tension grow between them. That last spell had a bit more fire to it. She was starting to mean it. He was playing with fire, now—he should back down a bit.

He cast Confundo back at her, and she whipped up her shield without a moment’s hesitation. She was a step closer now than she had been. “You’re a cold hearted prick,” she said, seething.

His basic cast came at her a little more quickly than his last spells had. She just blocked it. “You know nothing about me,” he growled.

“I know you’re a monster, set on causing pain for your pleasure, just like your family.”

For the second time that day, Ominis found himself hearing nothing but his own blood pumping. She didn’t know what he’d been through. The regrets he had. He took out some of his hatred by throwing a spell to her—he wasn’t even sure what it was, but it didn’t matter. Her quick Protego kept it from reaching her. “Don’t speak of things you know nothing of,” he spat. “At least I’m not like you, so eager to please the rest of the world by making a sorry show of myself. You try so hard to run, but everyone still sees you as you are. Heir to a pureblood throne, just like me—”

Most of the time, Ominis Gaunt was a man of restraint. He listened to that little voice in his head (the voice he was so keen on telling Sebastian he didn’t have) and stopped when it told him to. He knew where limits were, and how to stay away from them. He’d spent his life skirting around the edges. He knew he should stop now, before things got out of hand, before he did something he’d regret. But sometimes, sometimes, fury had a way of making that voice seem too quiet.

“—dearest.”

Any anger he had felt from her before had been a mere sample. He felt the magic in the air as she drew her arm back, preparing to direct it to him. It was electric—power and rage turned into one, matching the growl of her voice as she yelled, “Confringo!”

But he’d had time to prepare. The moment that word had left his mouth, there was the instinct telling him to ready himself. His shield parted the flames that flew at him, the heat felt through it still. It was a truly masterful cast of the spell, one that Sebastian had to be jealous of. Just after the fire’s heat vanished, Ominis let his own spell fly, a powerful Depulso that sent her flying back.

His wand lowered as he heard her fall to the ground, the realization hitting him. How had he let his rage drive him so far? She could be hurt, badly, he hadn’t meant to—

Some of his anxiety was quelled as he heard her getting back up, brushing away the hands and concerned voices that surrounded her. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “I don’t need help, I’m not hurt, I—”

“What’s going on here?” Professor Hecate said, voice booming as she stood between the two of them. Y/N was back on her feet. “Did I not instruct you on not using other spells in your duels?”

Neither of them spoke. Ominis was still too stunned from his own actions. She seemed to feel the same. There was no defense for either of them—they had put on quite the show. They had plenty of witnesses to describe what had happened.

“Detention,” Professor Hecate said. “Tonight, for the both of you. You’re lucky no one was hurt.”

Ominis could only stand there in silence, hearing the hushed whispers of the other students begin to swirl around him. He hardly heard Professor Hecate when she announced class was dismissed, the other seventh years leaving the classroom quickly.

He should apologize. Make sure she was really alright. Let her know he hadn’t meant—he never intended to—

But she was already gone, having stormed out of the classroom the moment she’d been able to.

Her side ached where she had hit the ground, but she didn’t care. Constance kept pestering her even as she repeated that.

“You should just let Nurse Blainey check it out,” her blonde friend insisted. “What if it’s worse than you think?”

“I know what a bruise feels like, Constance,” she replied shortly. Constance narrowed her eyes at her, frowning deeply.

That was Constance. Quick to protect, but quick to get offended, too. Y/N knew how to stay on her good side after years of friendship, a skill most hadn’t been able to grasp. The two of them made quite the pair—Y/N was a bit of an outcast. Not accepted by the Slytherins or other pureblood families because of her outspokenness against that culture, and not fully embraced by the others in the school, still a bit wary of her origins. People were nice enough to her, never accusing her of following in her family’s footsteps or viewing her as a danger, but… they still kept her at an arm’s length. It was difficult to make true friends, not just ones who’d chat kindly in class then never speak to her again outside of it.

But that’s where Constance came in. The girl was so loyal, Y/N often found herself wondering how she wasn’t a Hufflepuff. Constance had her own trouble keeping friends; she had a bit of a reputation for being short with people, feeling as if she knew best. Y/N didn’t mind. What mattered to her was that she was there when no one else was, and she knew she’d be there to the end.

At present, Y/N sighed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude to you. It’s just been… a long day.”

And it still wasn’t over. She wasn’t looking forward to her detention that night in the slightest—she’d already gotten the note from Professor Hecate, instructing both her and Gaunt to be in her classroom at eight o’clock sharp. She didn’t have much choice but to go, no matter how much she didn’t want to face the Slytherin again.

“I know, it’s alright,” Constance replied, annoyance gone after her apology. “I still can’t believe he actually did that… if I’d had any say in all of this, I’d let you Depulso him right back.” Constance distinctly ignored the fact that Y/N had been the first to use an illegal spell in their duel, sticking firmly on her friend’s side. “He’s getting off of this much too easily. I bet he won’t even show up to detention—pull his little web of strings to get out of it.”

She sighed. “Honestly, I’d be just fine with that. Save me the trouble of seeing him again.”

Constance grumbled a bit, something about unfair and stupid rich family. Y/N didn’t pay it much mind, simply grateful to have her by her side.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a blur. She was still angry, still frustrated about her situation, (and of course, with Ominis Gaunt) but the duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts reminded her she needed to keep a level head about all of it. What was it the infuriating boy had said? Showing it off like a prefect’s badge? She was determined to prove him wrong, and didn’t even look at him the remainder of the day.

When eight o’clock finally rolled around, she trudged up to Professor Hecate’s classroom. She opened the door and frowned, seeing Gaunt stood just inside. Well, at least he was taking his punishment, and not backing out like a coward. She’d give him that much.

Professor Hecate turned to both of them. “I’ll have you know that most professors would have given you detentions for at least a week—if you behave tonight, you’ll be left with just the one. Though you weren’t supposed to use those spells, I’ll grant that they were well cast. That deserves at least some merit.”

Y/N shifted on her feet, waiting for her instruction so they could get things over with. Professor Hecate led them over to her office, waving her wand to bring out high stacks of parchment. “Your task tonight is simple enough. I just need these alphabetized. It should be mundane enough to keep you out of trouble, I hope. I’ll leave you two to it and check back in an hour or so.”

After Professor Hecate left, Y/N plopped into a chair by the desk, starting immediately on the first stack. She told herself the hour would go quicker if she was absorbed in her task. Gaunt came to sit across from her, pulling out his wand to trace over the pages. She could help but glance up from time to time, wondering how exactly the magic worked. He’d first place his wand, and then his fingers would follow, brushing against the parchment. She’d seen him do it before in classes, of course, but it was a little different seeing him repeat the action again and again in front of her.

“I can feel you staring,” he said, shaking her out of her thoughts. She scowled, looking back down at the parchment she had in hand.

Now that the silence had been broken once, it felt heavy as it laid over them. Still, she was determined that she had no need to end it. Gaunt seemed to feel differently.

“I’m going to ask you something, and all I ask is you don’t try to set me on fire so we can avoid another detention.” No response. “Why do you despise me?”

She scoffed. “Really? You need to ask that? Was the letter I received this morning not reason enough?”

“It’s quite clear you hated me long before that letter. You just used to be more subtle about it.”

She set down the page she was holding. “You, Ominis Gaunt, are everything I’ve ever tried to run from.” Her eyes shot up to look at him, seeing his frown deepen. “I suppose that’s one thing you got right about me. I’m no sorry coward like you, willing to give in and be driven by hate and prejudice. My parents admire your family—it’s disgusting to watch. My whole life, they’ve pushed me to be just like all of you.” Her face contorted to one of utter disgust. “I know all about you and your horrid family. Cursing Muggles and Muggleborns as if they’re not even human. Of all the pureblood lines, yours is the most rotten of all. If I could erase one blasted family from the face of the planet, it would be yours.”

She wasn’t sure how she expected him to respond to that, but it wasn’t a quiet chuckle. Her face dropped her expression of disgust and turned to one of confusion, brows furrowed. “I see,” he said. “I figured as much. But I’d hoped after attending seven years of school together you’d have seen that the only person who hates my family more than you is myself.”

Her jaw dropped. “You—what—”

“You’re right,” he said. “About all of it. The hate, the prejudice, the torture, even. What you’re wrong about is me agreeing with it. It disgusts me, just as it does you. Truly, the Gaunt family line is an abomination.”

“But… but you’re a Slytherin,” she said, head spinning at the revelation.

“You really think I ever had a chance to be anything but, with his blood flowing in my veins?” He laughed bitterly. “And a Parslemouth, no less. I was doomed from the start.”

She sat in silence, lost in thought. Was he telling the truth? Was he just trying to manipulate her, get into her good graces for… for whatever reason? She couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation. It was a several minutes later when he interrupted to quiet once again.

“I am sorry, by the way,” he said softly. “I hope I didn’t cause you any pain or injury. I let my frustration get the best of me.”

He… he was apologizing? In a single conversation, all of the assumptions and judgements she’d made about the boy in front of her were slowly crashing down. For so many years, she’d thought she’d had him pegged. He was the perfect heir, the Gaunt’s dear youngest son. She had never bothered to look further, to question it. It had always been her against him.

But what if she’d gotten it wrong? What if they weren’t so different after all?

It was too big of a shift to take in all at once. Her head was spinning. What had he just been saying? Sorry—that was right. He was a Gaunt. He was supposed to be revealing in the pain he’d caused a blood-traitor. But he said sorry.

“You…” She cleared her throat, willing her thoughts to come together to form a response. “It’s alright. I’m not hurt. I was the first one to cast Confringo at you, so…”

Dear Merlin, was she apologizing back?

“I egged you on,” Gaunt said. “I usually know when to stop, but this whole engagement business has driven me out of my head. I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. They continued working, the only sound being the ruffle of pages, but most of the tension was gone. A while later, Professor Hecate came in to tell them they were free to go. They walked out of the classroom, toward the tower that held both of their common rooms in silence. He began to head down the stairs. Before she could stop herself, she called after him.

“Gaunt.”

He stopped, head tilting back a bit, an indication he was listening.

“If you’re telling the truth about everything,” she started. “Which… which I hope you are, then I’m sorry, too.”

A small smile crossed his lips. He didn’t say anything in response, just gave a bit of a nod and continued down the stairs.

Chapter 3

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