*hits Reblog In Aggressive Levels Of Love*

*hits reblog in aggressive levels of love*

✨Stuck

Uncle!Ominis shenanigans with minor Ominis/Reader

“You owe me for this.” He spits onto the grass. “Next time we play poker, I promise to let you win.” “Oh please. Your poker face is so appalling even I can see when you’re lying."

In the middle of the night, Ominis wakes to his panicked Muggle brother-in-law Connor, whose son James is mysteriously stuck to the ceiling…

Or, Uncle!Ominis attempts to help his Muggle-born nephew.

G-rated || no content warnings || 1.9k words || Feat. Gibby in minor Reader role

[read on AO3]

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The rock at the window wakes Ominis with a start.

It can’t be later than three o’clock in the morning, and he feels the darkness surround him – you, snoring softly to his left, the utter silence of the world outside, the chill of nightfall along his skin. He rolls over to face you and buries his nose into your hair, thinking he must’ve imagined the noise.

Clack. His eyes wrench open again. There is definitely something wrong.

Cursing softly, he slips out of bed and retrieves his wand. With a quick Revealing charm, he senses the body on the street outside, their hand wound back to toss another rock. It hits the window again before clattering into the gutter. A foolish child, maybe? Only they would think it wise to disturb his sleep.

He throws on a dressing gown and slippers and tiptoes downstairs. Hopefully his own children don’t rouse with the noise; it takes you several hours to get them to calm down and sleep. Another pebble hits the house’s wall just as Ominis clenches his wand and opens the side door.

“Ominis! Thank the Lord. Thought I’d have to break into the house.”

Confusion colours his annoyance. That’s not some kid – it’s his Muggle brother-in-law, Connor.

“Are you aware it’s the middle of the bloody night?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Connor sounds… panicked? “Is my sister—?”

“Fast asleep. Something I would also like to be.”

He swears softly. “All right, you’ll have to do.” He claps his hand. “I need your help.”

“I gathered.”

“It’s my son, James, he…” He swallows. “He’s stuck to the ceiling.”

“So? Get him down.”

“No, Om, he… he’s stuck. As in, I try to pull him down and he just... floats back up…”

Oh.

Ah.

Connor audibly winces. “I’m trying not to panic, but since you and my sister are the resident, erm, supernatural experts I figured I should come to you before calling the fire brigade.”

Ominis massages his head. “How did you even discover this?”

“He knocked on my wall. I thought it was something clattering through the pipes – went to investigate, there he was, suspended mid-air.” He bounces between his heels. “So can you do your vanishing thingamabob and take us there? Please. He’s utterly terrified right now, and I had to leave him alone to come here.”

What are the chances that Connor’s son, Ominis’ nephew-in-law, has developed magic? It does run in your family – you’re a witch, after all – but for the gene to reappear in the next generation on your brother’s side? The likelihood is incredibly low. His own children have been raised in a magical household, but he has no experience with Muggle children developing magic. Certainly you would be the wiser choice to navigate this situation delicately, but he doesn’t want to disturb you, not when you get so little sleep anyway.

Resigning to losing the night, Ominis sighs. “Fine.”

He decides it best not to give Connor any Apparition warning – he’s probably in too much of a state to take anything in – so he snatches his arms and Apparates them to the back garden of Connor’s house. Connor stumbles out of his grip and nearly wretches.

“Good God, some warning, man…”

“You owe me for this.”

He spits onto the grass. “Next time we play poker, I promise to let you win.”

“Oh please. Your poker face is so appalling even I can see when you’re lying.”

“… Touché.”

Ominis gestures for him to lead the way, and Connor pads up to the terrace house. In this area of London the air is muskier, sweetened by the industrial fumes of nearby factories, and Ominis hopes none of his neighbours happened to be peeking outside their windows when they both magically appeared in the garden.

“Keep quiet,” Connor warns as he unlocks the back door. “Matilda doesn’t know.”

Ominis baulks. “You haven’t told your wife?”

“Of course not, she doesn’t know diddly-squat about magic! Would lose her marbles if she caught James on the ceiling.” He swallows. “I hope she’s still asleep. Maybe James has woken her with all his wailing.”

They creep through the house to the highest floor, and when Connor softly announces that he’s coming in, Ominis braces himself for screaming and crying.

“Hi, Uncle Om!” chirrups nine-year-old James. “What’re you doing here?”

The room is small, befitting the eaves of the house. James has somehow managed to nestle himself where the two slants meet above. The skylight is ajar, letting in a gush of a night breeze.

Connor shuts the door behind. “How are you feeling, James? I know, I know, you’re absolutely terrified—”

“I’m fine.”

“— but I’ve brought your uncle to help get you down.”

James makes a confused noise. “How’re you gonna’ help, Uncle Om?”

Ominis purses his lips. He’s not actually sure yet. “How long have you been floating?”

“About an hour now.”

“Are you upside-down?”

“Nope, horizontal.”

That’s good. At least there won’t be poor blood flow. “What were you doing when you realised you were floating?”

“Erm, asleep?”

“Did you dream?”

“I dreamt about flying.”

Ah, that explains it.

“So?” says Connor desperately. “How bad is it?”

“Not bad,” says Ominis. “Just last week, my daughter set her bed on fire, and she’s only two. It’s rather common for… children like us, to develop it this way.”

“Flossie did what?” asks James.

“I suppose I should feel grateful that this is considered normal,” says Connor with a moan. “Please get him down. Quietly.”

“A simple spell should fix this.” Ominis finally reveals his wand from his pocket – it’s a strange sensation when he’s been vigilant about hiding it for so long. “Now, don’t panic, James—”

“Not panicking.”

“— but I’m going to do something that will help get you down. Brace yourself to land.” He nocks his wand. “Finite Incantatum.”

Silence.

“… Was that supposed to do something?” asks James, still floating.

“Hmm,” says Ominis, “that usually works.”

“Well, it didn’t,” hisses Connor. “Come on. You’re a wizard, Ominis—”

“Wicked,” says James.

“— so you’re supposed to be able to fix these things instantly!”

Ominis scowls. “Possessing magic is not the be all end all to every problem.” He flicks his wand down. “Descendo.”

Silence.

“Magic is real?” asks James, awed.

“Just brilliant,” Connor mutters. “I got the only wizard who can’t do this one simple task.”

“If you’d like to try,” Ominis remarks, “please, be my guest.”

“No, no,” Connor whimpers, “keep trying.”

So Ominis does. “Reverte.”

Nothing.

“Finite. Surgito. Offero.”

None of them work.

“This is it.” Connor slumps to the ground, clutching his head. “He’s stuck there forever and Matilda will skin me alive—”

“Brilliant,” says James.

“— and we’ll have to move to the country to hide, only we can’t because my son is stuck to the bloody ceiling!”

“Pull yourself together,” Ominis snaps. “Your panicking is not helping matters!”

“Yeah, Papa!”

“James needs you to stay calm.”

“Damn right, Papa!”

“Mind your language, son.” Connor gets up. “Fine, fine, I will resist the urge to panic. But if none of your magic spells work, what do we do?”

“I suspect I know the issue.” Ominis faces James. “None of my spells are working because you’re keeping yourself afloat.”

James sounds confused. “How?”

“Well, you enjoy being up there, don’t you?”

“Yeah, the view is great! Papa, you have a bald spot on the top of your head.”

“I have a what?”

Ominis sighs. “It’s up to you, then. Close your eyes. Imagine you are floating back down. Imagine your feet on the ground.”

For the first time all night James sounds unsure. “Okay…” Ominis senses him clenching his fists, deep in thought. “Float back down… float back down…”

The air shifts; his body begins to slowly descend.

“It— it’s working!”

“Good. Keep doing it.”

James lets out a soft grunt, trying to reach down as he goes.

“Yes, that’s it, son,” says Connor. “Keep it up—”

But then James hesitates, two feet from the floor. “Aw… but I liked flying.”

“No!” Connor bellows. “No, please, don’t go back up!”

“Focus,” Ominis commands. “Feet on the ground!”

“But what if I don’t ever fly again?”

“You will. On a broom, where it’s safe.”

“On a broom? But I can fly without one!”

He starts going higher and higher, and Connor’s panic hits peak.

“No, no—! Son, please.”

“I’m all right, Papa!” he says cheerfully, back up on the ceiling again. “I’m like a bird! Wheeeee!”

Connor suddenly grabs Ominis’ shoulders. “It’s no use. He’s too excited!”

Ominis winces. “Then I’m afraid we’re going to have to employ my last resort.”

“And that is?”

“Grab a leg each and yank him down.”

“God Almighty,” Connor curses. “Fine. I’ll take the left, you take the right.”

They grab a leg each, and though James initially jerks, his body simply floats back up, this time trying to take them with him. Ominis jabs his heel into the foot of the bed, but he might as well be trying to move Buckingham Palace.

“James,” Connor begs, clearly having the same problem. “For the love of God, please come down!”

“Look, Papa!” James cries. “I can take you with me!”

Ominis’ feet leave the floor, and he can’t help the embarrassed yelp that leaves his mouth.

“James!” Connor shrieks. “P-Put us down!”

“Now you’re both flying! Hurrah! Isn’t this fun?”

“No!” shrills Ominis. “For Merlin’s sake, James—”

The door suddenly opens. Matilda lets out a quiet yawn.

“What’s going on in—?”

She stops. Notices James stuck to the ceiling, with Ominis and Connor holding one leg each.

“Oh, Mama!” says James. “Want to see what else I can do?”

The bed promptly sets on fire.

Matilda screams.

❈❈❈

“So James has magic now?”

That next morning, Ominis woke feeling like he was run over by the Hogwarts Express, owing to the menial two hours sleep he managed to snatch after returning back home during sunrise. Bracing his head over the steam of his teacup, he flicks idly at his buttered toast, desperate to keep his eyes peeled open.

“Yes, James has magic,” he responds, monotonous.

“A Muggle-born like me! That’s so wonderful,” you say, and you place the bowl in front of Flossie. She gurgles, spooning herself the food but letting half of it drip down her chin. “How did Matilda take it?”

“After I doused half of James’ room, she threatened to call the police and tried to exorcise us with holy water? Rather well, considering.”

“Well, it’s nice that everyone in the family knows now. No more secrets! Oh, that means he’s going to get his Hogwarts letter soon! How amazing! We’ll have to groom him for Hufflepuff. I don’t think he has the temperament for Slytherin.”

After last night, Ominis isn’t so sure. Massaging his forehead, he sips his tea, begging his brain to unfog.

The doorbell rings.

“No, darling, food goes in your mouth—” But his daughter giggles again, and you mumble, “Sorry, Ominis, Flossie’s being funny, can you get it?”

He gets to his feet, even though he feels like collapsing, and heads downstairs, irritated that the postman has the audacity to visit so early. When he opens the door, however, he’s surprised to come face-to-face with his Muggle brother-in-law… and his not-so-Muggle nephew.

Connor sounds ragged. “‘Mornin’, Ominis.”

“Hi, Uncle Om!” James grabs Ominis’ sleeve and bounces on his feet. “I got a letter this morning to go to magic school! Papa says you and Auntie went there, so can you teach me more magic? Please? Pretty please?”

Ominis groans.

❈❈❈

Fin.

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Please like and reblog if you enjoyed <3

🎼🌙Moonlight

Fluffy Ominis x MC!Reader drabble [G-rated, 800 words]

"Fitting, isn't it?" he murmurs, so quiet his voice blends with the song's deeper notes. "The verse speaks of how we wear masks to pretend all is well, but only in moonlight do our true feelings arise." "Shall we promise, then, to leave the masks behind tonight?" "I’ll promise that," he says, offering a hand, “if you'll honour me with a dance.”

In search of distraction from Ranrok's rebellion, you dance with Ominis in the Undercroft.

[read on AO3]

A/N: I originally wrote this for @yoshitsuno's #Hogtober challenge last year, but I've since made some edits. Very short and sweet, no use of Y/N (just you/yours) and MC is gender neutral. Enjoy. <3

The music lilts up the lift shaft, reaching your ears long before it clunks to a juddering stop. When the grille slides up, you tiptoe into the Undercroft. It’s a classical tune you don’t recognise, a poignant operatic with a melody that evokes a sense of sadness and beauty – and you know immediately which Slytherin will be enjoying it.

Eyes shut, Ominis is reclined against the furthest pillar. He’s dressed down today, in an unbuttoned waistcoat and loosely knotted tie. You could almost believe he was asleep if not for his wand, gently mimicking a conductor’s baton against his thigh, tapping perfectly in time with each beat.

“It’s a lovely song.”

He doesn’t stop. “From Gabriel Fauré's Clair de lune. I particularly like its message, comparing the human experience to rays of the moon.”

He gets to his feet as you drift closer. The voice swells dramatically; he flicks his wand, and the gramophone quietens.

“No, no, don’t turn it down on my account,” you say; Ominis’ hand hangs in air. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Why did you come?”

“To find something to do. To… distract myself. All this business with Ranrok…”

You don’t need to say anything more. He knows.

The corners of his mouth tug upwards. “There’s always homework. I believe we have eight inches to write for Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“Already finished it.”

“Naturally. Don’t tell Sebastian though, he might want to copy.”

“If he doesn’t I’ll assume someone hexed him.”

Ominis smiles more warmly and takes a tentative step closer; in the light of the braziers, shadows writhe and bend against him, sharply cleaving his features, and it makes him look like he could set fire to the world.

"Fitting, isn't it?" he murmurs, so quiet his voice blends with the song's deeper notes. "The verse speaks of how we wear masks to pretend all is well, but only in moonlight do our true feelings arise."

"Shall we promise, then, to leave the masks behind tonight?"

"I’ll promise that," he says, offering a hand, “if you'll honour me with a dance.”

“You can dance?”

“A little. And you?”

“No,” you admit, yet you breach his space, close enough to smell his cologne, “but it might be nice to learn.”

“It’s simple.” He guides your hand to his shoulder, and clasps the other gently in his own. “If a blind man can do it, you are more than capable.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that.”

“I’m only trying to make you feel comfortable.” His tone is lighter, laced with teasing. “Follow my lead.”

His free hand goes to your waist, and the touch dizzies you as he coaxes you back, to the left, forwards again and around. Ominis commands you so well you wouldn't believe he wasn’t born to play the role of the dutiful heir of Slytherin, born to lead his pure-blood family to its inherent greatness. Were it not for his virtuous beliefs, his unwavering loyalty and kind heart, perhaps it would be true. It was that compassion that drew you to him in the first place, so long ago – and it's the small ways he continues to prove his compassion that keeps you there, a stalwart presence at his side.

With him, leaving the mask behind is easier.

“Let the music show you the way,” he says, when you curse after a misstep. “Feet position doesn’t matter so much as the reason we're dancing.”

You step in again, basking in his scent. “What are we dancing for?”

“That depends on you.”

“To peace, then.” You smile at him though he cannot see. “We dance to carve out a moment of peace.”

“I like that.”

He leads, you follow. The Undercroft becomes your stage, Ominis the prince that sweeps you away. There is no rebellion, no school, no expectation of society, responsibility, or real life. All you see is him, all you feel is his compassion, the shadows that yield to him giving you room to breathe. He may have darkness at his beck and call, and you the tumult of an incoming storm, but together you make something brilliant and beautiful. Together you make the lone ray of the moon that lights the way through the everlasting night.

“You see?” he says, with that inexplicably captivating softness. “You're a natural.”

You squeeze his hand.

“I have a good teacher.”

A loud cough jerks Ominis back, out of your grip.

The grille closes, and Sebastian strolls inside, robe thrown over his shoulder, looking terribly smug.

“Interrupt something, did I?”

“No,” Ominis barks at once, that softness replaced by calloused edges and walls. He steps a polite distance away, but doesn’t turn his back. “You presume too much.”

“Or I don’t presume enough?”

You sweep down your robe, fixing Sebastian a glare. He only wiggles his brow at you. Ingrate.

“Either way, stop that racket. I need absolute silence to copy your Defence Against the Dark Arts essays.”

Moment dashed, masks on, Ominis makes a weary grunt and goes to turn the gramophone off… but you don’t miss the smile that lingers on his face.

Fin.

[read on AO3] [Gabriel Fauré's Clair de lune on YouTube] [Divider credit]

Your honor I love her

I was jetlagged and 5am scrolling and had a sudden itch to draw so... Here's a portrait study of natty

(based on this lovely screenshot by @girl-named-matty ☺️)

Bookworm Sebastian, he’s giving into dark magic. He doesn’t know that he’s already lost against it.

Drawn for a Twitter challenge

Breakdown is one way to put it (based on this gbbo meme)

Sunan meanwhile:

Thank you for the tag @betheckart 🩵

Finally catching up to these :) Here's my sweet, tenacious Artemis Loreley

I also do have her in a version with non-Ancient Magic....which honestly just is a happier (less traumatized) version

No pressure tags: @galaxiasgreen @tusklovercstb @lyworth

Tagged by @raresvtm and @justasmolbard , thank you!

[link]

Tag: @chloekistune @graveyard-party666 @alypink @statichvm @themotherofhorses @priceseyes @cassietrn @socially-awkward-skeleton @thewanderer-000 @thedeadthree @sinclxirx @alicedarkmair @strangefable @captastra @aceghosts @kikiharinezumi @katsigian @dickytwister @theelderhazelnut @elderglocks @caelums-fate @chewbokachoi @yourluckyoswald @moosch @illmetbymoonlight @starcrossedspirit @la-grosse-patate @pan-anarcho @killerspinal @dani-the-goblin @g0dspeeed @ghostgirlvii @josephseedismyfather @welldonekhushi @dreamcast641 @milkywayhou @jackiesarch @esolean @itsmwifenolan @scorpiosleeps and everyone who wants partecipate 💚