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Chapter Text

Ominis would deny it, but he deeply enjoyed being in the sun. His fellow Slytherins compared the Gaunt boy to that of a cantankerous old cat, or the very serpent on the Slytherin house sigil as it was not an uncommon sight to find him dutifully positioned in whatever window he could bask in the warmth of a beautiful sunlit day. Granted, they kept these taunts within the walls of the common room. They did have Slytherin solidarity and pride to think about. 

It was in such a spot did Samarra find him on this particularly lovely day; an uncharacteristically warm March afternoon and the sudden onset of gentle heat had prompted another broom trial with Imelda earlier that morning. A jubilant fly had that been, the comfortable weather was a welcome change from the biting chill they'd been subjected to over the course of winter. Imelda insisted on continuing their time trials through the desolate season, despite the two not even belonging to the same house. 

"You can't be the best if your competitors aren't also at their best you know. So if you fail to train as hard, you're not only selling yourself short, but also letting me down." Imelda Reyes, ever the model Slytherin, whose threads of ambition were woven directly into the fiber of her being, held the title for most cutthroat and menacing member of any Quiddich team on the grounds. Naturally, this relationship, while founded on ruthless competition, was strengthened by mutual respect and together they spurred one another towards whatever hurtles stood to make them falter. Truthfully, not a soul in Hogwarts should be surprised that Samarra and Imelda stood as allies. Samarra Croft had the uncanny ability to melt the hearts of many a stoic individual and even mend years old rancor with her bouts of awkward charm. 

It would seem that Ominis Gaunt was not immune to the wiles of the Gryffindor. Though he thought his secret safe from prying eyes, he had simply forgotten that his longest and dearest friend, Sebastian Sallow, was the most meddlesome twat known to set foot in the valley. He'd soon be forcibly reminded of this fact, but for the moment Ominis would be preoccupied with a girl from a rival house with a gentle laugh who smelled of lilac and vanilla. For the moment, something different lingered in the air as the whirlwind of that very Gryffindor whipped through the halls towards him. 

Her bag thumped against the table with an undistinguished plop, his tea rippling in vexation at the intrusion. Her hair flew wildly around her shoulders having been whipped free from the trademark ribbon that typically kept her face free from the stray wisps that would dare tickle her nose. Freckles kissed with a windburned pink hue, no doubt from racing Imelda across the Iron Dale course. The flush of her cheeks stung from with wind's assault and Samarra found herself slightly glad Ominis couldn't see her positively disheveled appearance.

"My apologies for being late! I hope you weren't waiting too long." Breathless and smiling, a laugh always dancing at the edge of her voice: a standard manner of greeting regarding Samarra Croft. Ominis Gaunt would lose himself in it if he did not tread carefully. 

"You're late far less often than Sebastian is. I suppose I can excuse it this time. Besides, with the weather, I'd wager you've been out flying" His tone light and teasing, vestiges of a small smile dance on the edges of his lips. How lovely was that smile, gentle and painfully rare. What would she give to make him beam up at her, to press a soft kiss to his pattern of moles on his cheek. Merlin's beard she was staring and was paying no mind to the beautiful individual who was speaking to her. 

"Our resident bloodhound strikes again! Let me guess, you can smell it on me." Ominis could always read her better than anyone, even Sebastian. And while it was in part due to heightened senses, Ominis couldn't deny his attentions were because of her specifically. He was not usually so perceptive for simply anyone.

"What do you have there? I can't imagine your Arithmancy book is in any danger from me." Ominis gestured vaguely to the tin in her hands. He may not have been able to tell, but Samarra's ironclad grip of anxiety threated to dent the pretty container and the delicate treasures inside. Ominis was lost in the scent of her perfume having combined with the fresh air from outside, no doubt clinging to her robes in an effort to call her back to flight. Samarra always smelled so sweet, it was dizzying, maddening even. How in Merlin's name was he supposed to focus on tutoring her in Arithmancy when she is, well. Her

"Oh, yes! Here, take it" Samarra could curse herself over her lack of eloquence. She'd braved many frightening things, persuaded enemies to prolong her survival, snuck into an Acromantula's cave, and yet her undoing proves to be a young man, a rather dashing one, but still a young man! Ignoring the rapid pitter patter of her heart and the static of worries in her mind, she extended the container to him. Were her hands sweaty? Would he like them? What if Sebastian was wrong, that wouldn't exactly be surprising. Merlin's beard could he tell how nervous she was?

Slender fingers loosened the ribbon adorning the box: ever so careful was he,  distracted was Samarra, lost in the intimate gentleness of the slide of satin against his pale hands. She decided that despite his Slytherin nature, red looked quite becoming against the cream of his skin. The urge to bite her nails in a flurry of unconcealed anxiety was overwhelmed as the image before her held her rapt at attention. The stays of her own corset were laced with a similar red ribbon. Would he untie that with such patience? Bloody hell she was losing her mind.

The lid releases with a pop and the scent of decadent chocolate wafts into the air. She'd wanted to do something for Ominis, something to make her feelings for him more obvious. Sebastian was painfully aware of his oblivious best friends feelings and had sought to help. If one defined "help" as smugly prancing around the Room of Requirement and the Undercroft that is. 

The Beasts classroom was all but deserted, save for the glimmer of scarlet and gold that hid amongst the puffskeins.  "Poppy I can't help it. How am I meant to focus on him tutoring me in Arithmancy when he has a voice like that! Gods, how embarrassing. This is getting absolutely out of hand! Just the other day in potions, I added an garish amount of Ashwinder eggs into my cauldron because Ominis was laughing at Sebastian. His laugh alone completely distracted me. I swore I thought Sebastian had seen, but he hasn't said anything. Though, it was suspicious how swiftly he helped me ensure my cauldron didn't explode. It had turned the most abhorrent shade of green. Professor Sharp would've gutted me then and there if I'd had a Weasley moment."

Samarra thought Poppy and her to be alone as they tended the small puffballs as they rolled around in the dirt, but like many other times, she'd been wrong. The deep voice of none other than Sebastian Sallow erupted from behind the sitting Gryffindor. "I thought you'd had enough embarrassment for one day and thought I'd be kind enough not to mention your drooling, Croft."

Sebastian had returned to the outdoor classroom to retrieve a forgotten book when he'd stumbled across the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff gossiping over Puffskein hair. Oh how he wished he was talented at portait making. He would love to capture the horrified expression on the Hero of Hogwarts face. Maybe send them out as greeting cards? She'd absolutely wallop him for it, but something like that would be worth the beating. Poppy's previous giggling had devolved into a rather deranged fit of laughter at the mortified look that truly seemed stuck on Samarra's face. She'd never seen the Gryffindor so chagrined. W here Sebastian or Samarra journeyed, Ominis was typically not far behind, and with two of them in the same place, it wasn't unlikely that Ominis would suddenly appear out of the undergrowth like a summoned Inferi.  Sebastian's shit eating grin did little to calm Samarra's thundering heart or ease the worry that bloomed in her chest at the prospect that Ominis could be nearby. 

"Please, you mustn't say a word of this to Ominis. I beg of you, Sebastian" Oh it was deadly serious if Samarra Croft, Vanquisher of Ranrok, Troll Slayer, deigns beg. 

"Easy there. Oh I wouldn't dare tell him. But you're going to." Her face paled at his words, jaw dropping open in bout of shock.

"Don't tell me you're afraid little lion. I'll help you, don't fret." That teasing lilt to his voice was saccharine sweet and bloody dangerous. Many hearts had been and would be broken by that smug Sallow boy, and for a moment, Samarra was glad she was in love with another. The click of the gears turning in his mind were nearly audible and she really wasn't sure what was worse, Ominis rejecting her or that maniacal glint in Sebastian's eyes. None of it boded well.

Being born of a halfblooded family left her with mundane talents of cooking and baking. These skills blessed her with a talent that extended to her current curriculum, allowing her to excel in Potions, much to Professor Sharp's surprise. Curiosity and determination drove her onward in her pursuit of a dessert worthy of Ominis Gaunt's presence, but with endless possibilities, decisiveness eluded her. Much to Deek's horror, instead of choosing a singular direction, Samarra instead, chose them all. T his would be how Samarra had managed to spend the better half of a fortnight in the Room of Requirement working desperately to concoct something worthy enough to gift to Ominis. It felt like days since she'd gotten a good nights sleep, her hair relegated into a bun as it was too tangled to do much else with, dark bags had started to sag under her eyes, but she still had eons to go. She was working off of Sebastian's rather lackluster espionage, leaving her with a singular piece of information; Ominis liked chocolate. It may have been better to have no information at all. Even with narrowing her focus, Samarra was overloaded with choices: from pastries, to cookies, to trifles or tarts, the ideas raced through her mind like a golden snitch, except she'd never played quidditch. Naturally it was going terribly.

It was silly, she supposed, to throw herself so heartily into a task that did not require such a substantial amount of effort. But unfortunately for her, this was who she was. Poor Deek had watched in distress as her potion stations disappeared and a multitude of stove tops and ovens took their place.  After this kitchen hell scape ended, Deek was sure to tell her she "should be proud of all the desserts she'd baked."

Loose pages of recipes slipped off her desk and littered the floor as this seemingly insurmountable task loomed over her. She'd tried her hand at three different types of cookies before deciding they were far to simple; her cakes had been too rich, trifles too messy. It took all of her resolve not to fling herself off of the the roof of Ravenclaw tower in a fit of frustration. Ominis Gaunt was descended from a regal and refined family and while he was simply a teenage boy, an upbringing such as that demanded excellence, it demanded something sublime. Something that had depth, character, something balanced.  Of course, something sweet had to be balanced with something sharp. All her other trial bakes were too overpowering or rich. An idea started forming in her head like an ashwinder coming to life from the embers of a magical flame.

Seized by the force of a new idea, not unlike being snatched up by that troll in the Dale Family Tomb, Samarra worked with a fervor she wished would translate over to studying for N.E.W.T's. Over the course of the next day, more chocolate had fallen victim in her battle for tastiest sweet. By morning, Samarra had summoned Sebastian to the Room of Requirement. There was no way she could willingly present anything to Ominis without a proper taste test. Besides, a small snack would be the least Sebastian deserved for his help, if you called taunting her about her crush on their best friend while she was covered in flour and melted chocolate help, anyway. Sebastian Sallow was a menace and a scoundrel, but he was the dearest friend anyone could ask for. 

By the time he arrived, the Room of Requirement was in less disarray, stray desserts still lay strewn over countertops, but the mess of loose flour, chunks of chocolate, and miscellaneous ingredients had long since been snuffed out by her rescued puffskeins. The most pristine of her treasures, placed in a delicate metal tin, tied off with a scarlet ribbon, quite similar to the one she wore in her hair. The desserts that had fallen short of her high standards were banished to a plate set aside for Sebastian who was due to bumble in the door any moment. 

"Merlin's beard you look like utter shit." A low whistle punctuated the deathblow to her confidence. 

"Thank you, Sebastian. I did dress to entertain you." She'd changed out of her desecrated uniform, the shirt had been irreparably stained, not even a proper scorgify was able to save it.

"You're not going to see him like that are you? You're quite lucky he's blind." He didn't even try to hide the alarmed stare directed at her hair, dark tendrils twisted into a visage that bore a frightening resemblance to the Sorting Hat. Sebastian actually looked moderately concerned one of her Diricaul's from the vivarium would venture out to make a nest out of the ghastly mess. 

"If I had an ounce of energy, your arse would be on the floor right now, you know." 

"Is that a yes? You can't possibly-"

"Are you going to try these or not you little weasel." Sebastian could positively die at the look Samarra levelled at him. Those tired, chocolate eyes took no prisoners and he was obscenely grateful her wand was at his back for all the trouble they'd gotten up to the last few years. No need to heckle the poor girl any further. Sebastian all but snatched one of the little snacks off the plate and plopped it into his mouth. The silken texture of the chocolate tart melted against his tongue, in a richness he'd never been blessed with before. Sebastian's eyes sprung open as he stared at Samarra in awe. 

"Holy fuck. You made these? Mara, you've really outdone yourself. He's going to love these. Can I have just one more-" Samarra handed him the plate and shooed him away from the counter before he found the tin already packed away. The little glutton would eat them all if she didn't banish him from the Room of Requirement. 

"Thank you for your help. You are truly the best, but you need to scoot out of here. I need to shower!" His chortling laughter echoed through the chamber as he scurried away with his prize. "And Sebastian?" Her voice suddenly uncharacteristically shy. 

"Yes, Miss Croft?" 

"Thank you, for everything" Her tired eyes held nothing but fondness. He truly was her dearest friend. 

His dimpled smile and freckled cheeks were always a welcome sight, even when he was laughing at her. "Just make sure you tell him, or I will!" With a suggestive waggle of his brows Sebastian darted out of the Room of Requirement. 

The smile remained trapped on his face as he descended the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, halfheartedly stifling his laugher. He'd scampered out of the Room of Requirement after being threatened with the maiming of his handsome face by the Gryffindor girl, if he didn't "keep his filthy mitts off Ominis' present and keep his mouth shut". Hopefully everything went well tomorrow with the pair as he couldn't tolerate their quiet pining for much longer. Ominis and Samarra were absolutely moon eyed over each other like a pair of useless flobberworms, but Sebastian could only watch so many longing glances before he would need to check into Saint Mungo's or hurl himself off of the Astronomy Tower. Either one would suffice. 

Chapter Text

"I didn't realize they'd be so messy. Here, allow me," Samarra had laid a small kerchief into the palm of his outstretched hand and gingerly set a mini chocolate tart on top of it. The scent of chocolate assaulted his senses as his mouth watered in response. Merlin, it smells divine. While he did enjoy sweets, specifically the chocolate kind, Ominis tried his best not to indulge his sweet tooth too much lest someone, Sebastian, find some way to use it to embarrass him, and knowing Sebastian Sallow, he would find a way. 

"Many thanks," the slightly crumbly crust falls apart in his fingers and he finds himself grateful for her napkin as it is the only barrier between this tantalizing morsel and the positively dull assignment for Transfiguration. Ominis lifted it to his lips, much to Samarra's otherwise blatant distraction, and finds himself met with the most beautiful culmination of perfection to ever enter his mouth. The tart's filling was thick and creamy, the potent flavor of dark chocolate sweeping him away in a tide of decadence, balanced with the bitterness of coffee and sea salt flakes, mellowing the intensity of the sweetness. The crust crumbled gently into his mouth, crushed almonds giving a distinct and pleasant crunch to the delicate dessert.  

This gift, in all of its simplicity, carried the weight of more. In the blink of an eye, he was but a boy again, bearing the bitter loneliness of the Gaunt Estate awaiting a visit from his favorite Aunt. Noctua Gaant: ardent resister of the old ways, Defyer of Tradition, favored only by her nephew. It was no secret what transgressions the Gaunts were guilty of, what they subjected muggles to, or whatsmore, what they subjected their own blood to. Ominis and the torture he endured was no exception. Pureblood families round the country knew what magic would flay the young boy at his family's own hand. Yet none sought to intervene.

"Best allow them to sort it out themselves."

"How they choose to deal with such a stain on their tree is their own business" 

"Bold of them to allow him to live at all"

Even as a young child, Ominis walked the firm lines of decorum of one raised within the confines of his designation. These rules were bent and broken only by the presence of the one relative Ominis loved. Noctua, in turn, was the only person to possess any genuine affection for the boy. He found himself indulging in childlike excitement whenever she was near. Once Ominis had discovered Noctua's namesake was a constellation in a sky he'd never see, he'd taken to consuming all stories he could relating to the cosmos. Some of her visits were spent hidden away in one of the studies, illuminated by candlelight, as she whispered the stories of countless constellations. It was through her memory that Ominis passed Astronomy at all once he came to Hogwarts.

Noctua sought to bring her nephew under her wing, where his family sought to bring him to heel. For all her wizarding power, there was little she could do to protect the young blind boy from the constant threat of familial torture, but she did what she could to assuage his fears and assure his safety as best as possible, even gift him moments of joy, unlike her peers and kin. 

Without fail, every visit was punctuated with a dessert of some sort, always chocolate. One day, a small Ominis had asked her," Auntie Noct, how come you always bring the chocolate ones? Are they your favorite?"

An inescapable fondness lay deep in her dark, wise eyes, "Chocolate brings comfort to the soul little one. Even in the darkest times." Chocolate had been her favorite, but what she said stood true, even if Ominis was too young to understand the sentiment. It was a foolish hope of hers that her beloved nephew might never understand, but his fate, like many others, was intrinsically tied to his family name. Ominis, young as he may be, was so unlike the rest of his family. In his heart, he was good and Noctua Gaunt would sacrifice anything to preserve that goodness. How unfortunate that the cost of that desperate 'anything' would be paid within her beloved nephew's lifetime, and now, just as her namesake, Noctua had one more become little more than empty space in the heavens. 

How astounding that something so simple as a homemade sweet would evoke something so melancholic and powerful in a heart iced over in an act of self preservation. How extraordinary to watch the frost melt in the presence of spring.  

With baited breath, Samarra shyly watches the Slytherin boy as he chews: hazy eyes scrunched shut, brow furrowed in thought. The urge to ask for his validation nipped at her heels like a rabid mongrel, her desire for his honest thoughts overrode her typical need for decorum. " Do you like them?"

A soft smile began to tug at the corners of his lips as he started to nod. Ominis needed to add 'talented cook' to the exceedingly long list of qualities that had sent him spiraling down the rabbit hole of what was "falling in love with Samarra Croft" as soon as possible.  They'd grown considerably closer since their 5th year. The events of what transpired drove the trio together and Sebastian built bridges between them that were strengthened by their own hands. In her company, the darkness that curled around the Sallow boy all but dissipated. Samarra's kindness and outright refusal to allow their close friend to succumb the shadow of grief was the reason they remained a trio at all. Despite all her flaws and all she'd endured, Samarra remained a guiding light for both the Slytherin boys. 

While the girl frequently bestowed gifts and the like amongst her friends, creating whatever this delectable treat was, seemed no small feat. This was an unheard of amount of effort for simply a friendly gesture of goodwill. For a moment, he indulged himself once more. Did this act mean Sebastian was right? That she may return his affections? 

"Oh, wonderful! Sebastian-" 

Harshly startled from his reverie, Ominis stopped chewing. His unseeing eyes snapped open, seeming to stare through her. Gone was the small smile and the previous warmth and amusement that came with it, replaced instead with expression blank as an unpainted mask. Jealousy had risen in his chest like a viper, constricting his breathing and souring the sweetness of chocolate on his tongue.

Of course they were for Sebastian. Of course that's what this was: nothing more than a taste test for her best friend to perfect something wonderful for the one she truly cared for.  Why would Samarra endear herself to him of all people? Even Weasley was a better choice than himself. Sebastian had at least fought at her side and shed blood in her name. What had Ominis done? Tutored her in Arithmancy and proofread her essays? He was a fool. A naïve, hopeless, idiotic fool. 

"Oh, I wouldn't give these to him." The words, the Daedalus Key to Samarra Croft's cabinet of wrath, flew out of his mouth before he regained his wretched sense. Had he mentioned that he was a bumbling fool?

Silence burgeoned, sparked into being by his incendiary remark. It was as though the floor fell out from under her, hope of him returning her affection dying like the very words on her tongue. The cool blue of his eyes had iced over, the chill so harsh, it even quelled the heat in her cheeks. Samarra recognized that bitter tone laced in his voice, echoing in her ears from years ago as she slipped from the Undercroft, before their kinship, before she'd begun to treasure his company. It stung as sharply now as it had then, more so even given her painful devotion. 

"And why would that be?" Her almond eyes narrowed into a withering gaze, tone sharpened dangerously to mask the pathetic whine that threatened to slip out instead. Despite it all, Samarra's pride would not allow Ominis to witness a brokenhearted vulnerability from her first hand. Were they that terrible? Had Sebastian lied? Even if he'd been telling the truth, why would Ominis even care? He was a pureblood and a Gaunt, no matter. What could a half blood such as Samarra Croft offer a young man from such an illustrious family? Delusions of grandeur were more Sebastian's fancy than her own. Maybe they'd grown too similar over the years and his foolishness had latched onto her like leaping toadstool spores. 

Finding himself a parody of Leander Prewett, Ominis found that he simply could not stop digging his own grave. "These are- suitable, but Sebastian likely wouldn't turn something lackluster away either. He's willingly drank Weasley's potions before for Merlin's sake." Where in the bloody hell did that come from? Why did he say that? 

He grimaced, hearing her sharp intake of breath as his words land: the very shift in the air is not lost on him and Ominis can imagine the furrowed brow of her frown creasing across her face. Samarra takes the pinched expression on his face as disgust for her efforts, for her, not the true distaste for his own blithe rudeness. How inexcusably unfair to subject her to the burden of his unrequited feelings. 

"Ah. I see. Well-" Her hands snatched her bag off the table, a miracle his parchment hadn't taken flight with the sheer force of it. "Enjoy the rest of your assignment then."

Samarra, reduced to a flash of crimson, all but apparated away with how swiftly she departed. The click of her heels retreating down the hall and the soft scent of her perfume remained the only evidence she'd been there at all. A sight such as this was  unappreciated in present company, who would believe that particular Gryffindor would ever tuck tail and run? Who would believe tears would fall over words from Ominis Gaunt?

The tin of sweets lay forgotten (abandoned) on the table with her floral kerchief. She left them behind. Shame Sebastian won't receive his sweets. He really would enjoy them. 

If only she'd waited a moment more, she'd have seen Ominis pluck the tarts from the safety of the tin one by one with his slender fingers, reveling in each delicious bite in an effort to mask the bitterness of his overwhelming guilt. But misunderstandings breed hurt amongst the young and lovesick, avoiding heartache was safer. 

Chapter Text

The whole ordeal left her horrified. Samarra could not believe she'd embarrassed herself so thoroughly. Her face still stung from the shameful interaction.

It had been foolish to lean so willingly into youthful hope, a feeling many older than her find themselves nostalgic for, but it seemed even the most level headed find themselves swept in the curtails of Venus' influence. It was her own fault really; she'd trusted Sebastian to steer her in the right direction as if she hadn't spent the better half of the last two years dragging the Sallow boy out of every wrong choice he ever could've made in his entire life. 

While open and genuine, she did not lend herself to true vulnerability often, if at all. Samarra learned early and harshly to keep the true version of herself out of arms reach. It was easier, even now, to provide for those around her, than acknowledge her own needs. Give her a person to protect, a cause to champion, a friend to spill blood in the name of, but do not dare ask about the emotions that swirl beneath the surface and certainly do not ask of love that stood to change everything.

Samarra Croft carried the burden of saving the world like she carried the loss of her family, the loss of her childhood: the same way she mourned the gentle home and loving parents that she never really had; silently. Her bubbly disposition stood as the perfect wall between her and those who dare come to care for her, because that disposition  wasn't a façade. 

Despite all that plagued her, there was a certain warmth in her freckled face and dimpled smile that put those around her at ease with her good natured teasing and trademark zeal, simply drawing those around her in like the tides. It was that very warmth that likely drew Ominis to her in the first place. Like a cat to sunlit windows or a serpent to warmed rocks, her very soul seemed to call out to him in a siren song, ever inviting, the promise of peace, of solace, in her presence. 

Yet as we all are, she too remained blinded to others opinion of her, and instead likened herself to the visage of the Black Lake, a calm and benevolent backdrop to the valley landscape while beneath the even keel of the surface lurked monster and shadow alike that sought to drag even the most experienced swimmers to their end. Perhaps Ominis had seen the shadows that stalked behind her. Perhaps legillimency had indeed taken hold and he could see her as she saw herself. Perhaps that is why he believed her to be ill suited to be more than his companion.

The scars from her 5th year and before, would always be visible no matter how desperately Samarra stitched herself back together. Ghosts of her past sought to rip the seams open any chance they'd get. What would spill out of her if they succeeded? 

While her friends had witnessed her sacrifices and failures, there was much they still did not know about her. If they could only hear the thoughts that flooded her mind at present, how wholeheartedly would they demand that she believe them when they tell her how clearly they knew her soul. Even Ominis. Especially Ominis. 

Panic rose in her throat in a vice as fear sank in its teeth. Words from her own mind were always the most effective weapon. The shadows always had a foothold no matter how desperately she would fight against them. 

To anyone passing by, Samarra's expression of consternation would be attributed to her coursework, but on the inside a war waged. To think this Devil's Snare of fear, triggered by a half hearted rejection. Yet, this went beyond the shame of a mere rebuff. Sure, that stung like stinging nettles, but there were consequences to every action, to every choice anyone made.

She'd known honesty regarding her feelings held the possibility of fracturing a friendship she treasured dearly. The trio had carried nearly insurmountable burdens in their youth, and if they had survived those events only to be scattered like ashes in the wind due to none else than a fickle heart she would never forgive herself. 

She had no other family, no one else to love, making the one she'd forged at Hogwarts all the more precious. Despite her bloodline coveting secrets and harboring darkness in their hearts, not unlike the Gaunts, the loss of her only family haunted her at every turn and in every mirror. 

Strong as she may be, would Samarra Croft survive having another family ripped from her fingers a second time?

The very thought of losing the pair that stood by her side from the beginning, no matter how irrational, sent a tremor down her spine. 

What was it, Professor Garlick had said? To ground herself with things around her.

Professor's soft voice clear in her mind, anchoring her. No, no. You're okay. Deep breath. Just look at the plants. That's it. It'll be alright. You are alright. List the things around you. Breathe

Her eyes darted around as she searched desperately around her for something to scrutinize in the halls of the faculty tower. The statue of the One-Eyed Witch loomed overhead, A frightful sight had she been alive. 

Gnarled fingers clung to her gnarled staff, her hat somehow retaining a look of soft fabric despite being carved of stone. Her robes retained the same billowing flow of Samarra's own, her shawl having been cast over the hag's hunched shoulders. The face of the old woman remained twisted into a menacing laugh, her one eye glinting mischievously in it's stone prison.

Unsure how long she stood there, fingers trailing over each crack and crevice of the statue. No longer was her heart a thudding war drum in her head, nor her chest a prisoner deprived of air. 

The newfound clarify gave her a new fragment of resolve to latch onto instead of the spiral of thoughts. I need to thank Professor Garlick next I see her

A quiet sigh escaped her as she continued her short walk to the Fat Lady's portrait. Unsure why it hadn't crossed her mind to have taken the Floo to begin with, she ducked through into the common room after giving a polite wave to their house Guardian. Professor Garlick's trick had lulled part of her mind into a state of calm, which left what remained to rationalize all she felt. 

Things would likely settle and it would be fine. She doubted Ominis the type to shun her after her foolish escapade but even so. Samarra had many friends at her side amongst the four houses. It would make sense to lean on those friendships a little more firmly in the coming weeks. Perhaps Poppy needed assistance with the more advanced animals for Care of Magical Creatures. 

While it would be difficult, she could simply excise herself from their trio like a diseased limb. There were plenty of different routes to class, Hogwarts would lend itself to her aid in that respect.

Avoiding Ominis could be easily achieved, but avoiding Sebastian would be the impossible task. The prat and his tenacity could be downright fucking annoying. 

With quick steps and a hasty hello to Natty and Garreth in the common room, Samarra darted up the stairs to her dormitory and flung herself onto her bed. Maybe if she pressed hard enough, she'd manage to suffocate in the softness of her pillow and never again have to see Ominis nor Sebastian again. 

The soft churn of voices echoed up through the tall stairwells, a lovely background musical to her (admittedly understandable) pity party. Tendrils of annoyance prodded at her as she lie motionless, her mind less occupied, vulnerable once more. 

She'd been so stupid. Of course Ominis couldn't care for her in that way. What in Merlin's name had she been thinking? Honestly, even if he didn't share her affliction, Ominis needn't been so callous with his rejection. Samarra had expected a "these are not terrible to eat, I apologize but I do not return your feelings" as the worst case scenario. Not the scathing burn of that wretched sneer and the cold sting of his emotionless stare. 

After the events of 5th year, the trio had been inseparable, a genuine respect and admiration blossomed between Ominis and Samarra: Sebastian and Ominis' friendship rebuilt and strengthened as a result of the trust Ominis placed in her and ironically, her judgement. 

She'd thought they'd grown even closer as of late, opting to study together even when Sebastian was absent, likely chasing his own fancy. Ominis, in all his grand kindness, began to tutor her in Arithmancy. 

To ease her debt, Samarra assisted him with Potions, though in truth, he barely needed it. As always the diligent one, Ominis knew all the recipes for their current Potion course load from Veritaserum to the Draught of Living Death. Unfortunately, his execution remained the problem as it was impossible for him to tell when the elixir turned the proper color before moving to the next step. 

For this, she served as his ever loyal eyes, though staring at the cauldron and Ominis occurred at equal measure. Meanwhile, Samarra's execution of Arithmancy would end up with her soiling her chances of passing her N.E.W.T's, and ever the unlikely hero, Ominis remained steadfast in his determination not to let her fail. 

One of the girls had left a window open, crisp air carrying the scent of spring called to her from her place on the bed. Flying remained an escape now that smashing poachers into the dirt was a less common past time. It was not uncommon for Samarra to meet Imelda in the skies, a quiet respite from both their responsibilities and worries. Such a whim resonated in her bones, even now, despite having been flitting through the mists of clouds earlier that morning. 

Nothing else came close to the euphoria that was freedom, only wind and nothing under your feet. 

Few things could quell the swirl of emotions that lingered in her chest like flying did. Annoyance catching like wildfire but before that could burgeon, Samarra leapt up from the wallowing. In her heart there was no malice for her dear friend. Any anger in her bones was directed at its frequent target; herself.

Hurriedly she changed to head out into the valley, lest her fury swell and unfurl like petals of a tentacula. By the time she'd finish flying, maybe the wind will have quieted the squall of the storm inside her and she could at least look Sebastian in the eye. 

Time to put that fury to good use, Sam. Maybe this is the day Imelda's Irondale time gets squashed

Ominis found Samarra to be woefully absent the remainder of the day, an strange occurrance which continued into the next. He had half a mind to be worried, but her extracurricular activities had lessened in the amount of violence she was exposed to over the years. Still, confoundingly odd. 

Though she was not in any of the classes on his ledger for the day, her own route between classes overlapped with his. (This was no mere coincidence) Samarra always found time for a short stop to chat, managing to find him in the busiest of hallways. 

She'd casually dubbed him "the bloodhound" for all the times he'd scent the crisp air on her robes after careening across the skies or how the scent of damp earth clung to her after hunting spiders in the Forbidden Forest. Ominis could always tell where she'd been and yet, he found Samarra was equally capable of sniffing him out, albeit in the less literal sense. 

Dangerous to admit out loud, loath to admit it at all, but Ominis longed for the familiarity of her hand gently clinging to the sleeve of his robe as they navigated the throngs of students: how the heat of her shoulder radiated through the layers of their uniforms as her shoulder pressed against his own, always careful to not send him careening into their surroundings. Yet seemingly oblivious as to how she sent his heart careening to the depths of the Black Lake.

The scent of her perfume would linger in the air, and if the world was kind enough to smile upon him, it would cling to his robes when they'd been in temptingly close quarters for too long. The remnants of that beguiling scent would linger for hours in her absence. 

Often, did his thoughts wander to how easily it would be to slot his fingers into her hand as they walked side by side. Would she embrace him? Warm, calloused hands from a scant few years of fighting enveloping his own? How that desperation clawed at his chest, demanding to be freed from the confines of his own self control. To press a kiss to the palm of her hand, would the warmth of his lips convey the devotion that threatens spill from them?  

The young man shook his head in frustration. None of his fanciful delusions of romance mattered at all every moment that Samarra remained woefully absent in every corridor he found himself in. His day ended with not a single hallway respite. 

Attempting to write it off with her chasing butterflies through the Forbidden Forest again, he'd taken his bounty of sweets to the Undercroft. Much to his dismay, he'd eaten nearly all of them. It had been his genuine intention to bring the rest to Sebastian, since they were rightfully his, but there were a scant few left. 

A terrible friend twice over

Typically a welcome reprieve, the peaceful silence of the Undercroft felt overwhelmingly wrong. Ominis found himself longing for the chaos of Sebastian and Samarra dueling in the background as he made attempts to study. 

Surely the pair's enthusiasm over a well timed confringo could allay his forlorn state. The remainder of his Transfiguration essay sat untouched and unfinished as his mind remained distracted and in disarray. Not a word had been written since he'd met Samarra in the library.

Unsure how long he'd spent (not) sulking, the tell tale scrape of the metal gate caught his attention, signaling one of his dear friends had decided to join him in their hideaway. The sound of heavy footsteps lacking the succinct click of heels triggered a tidal wave of disappointment that Ominis desperately tried to squash, yet again did he fail.

Books thunked down onto his desk nearly spilling the open bottle of ink. honestly why do they both throw their belongings around like ill-mannered children

Sebastian's eyes lit up when he saw the familiar glint of the tin unwrapped on the desk. "Oh she gave you the sweets she made! Ooh they're almost gone, you must have liked them! Who'd have thought you were such a puffskein, Ominis!"

"Did you say made" Sebastian may have answered, yet Ominis mind swirled in confusion, drowning out anything his friend said. A peculiar wave of discomfort washed over him spawning a knot in the depths of his stomach. Sebastian had sounded excited? 

"Hold on- What do you mean, my sweets?" Ice settled in his veins, chilling the white hot thoughts that charged through his mind previously. The sound of her voice the last they spoke echoed in his mind. She'd sounded so angry, so wounded. 

Why did he have a feeling an apology of all things would be in his future. A shame there were too few sweets left to drive the taste of guilt from his tongue.