Chapter Text
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It never would have happened if she hadn’t decided to partner with Weasley.
Of course, that means it’s ultimately Ominis who is at fault.
Sebastian had been absent, still skipping far too many classes in favor of visiting Anne, despite her steadily improving health after the curse lifting upon Rookwood’s death.
It really is quite silly of Sebastian to neglect potions of all things. Particularly due to his newfound desire to be a healer, claiming he discovered the passion last year during his research towards curing Anne.
Though whether Sebastian can manage to keep his attendance and grades high enough to acquire an apprenticeship for such a competitive career is still to be determined.
Nevertheless, Ominis is left alone. And given the odd number of students present, expects to be alone all period -- as he usually is in Sebastian’s absence.
Enter Grace.
At times it could be a bit hard for others to see how soft and compassionate she truly was. Given all the time she spent shielding herself with sarcasm and her acerbic wit.
The popular opinion around school seemed to be that Grace was powerful, resourceful, and loyal. By the beginning of sixth year it was already a bit hard to find anyone of note that she hadn’t helped in some way. Yet merely by playing at being distant and disinterested she seemed to have all of Hogwarts convinced her actions were somehow self-serving.
All the more easy to write her off her achievements as ambition, given her sorting into Slytherin. Favor seeking behavior, they called it, although to Ominis’ knowledge Grace had never asked for anything but galleons for her efforts.
When it was announced the class would be brewing Scrying Solution; An incredibly difficult and volatile potion, requiring ingredients to be processed and combined in very specific ways at very specific times. Ominis decides he may as well sit the course out entirely today, lest he brew something potentially disastrous to his peers and disruptive to the learning environment.
But then Grace is by his side, casting an extension charm on their station before explaining in exhaustive detail how she is laying the ingredients out in a sort of grid pattern designed with his disability in mind. More considerate by half than Ominis would expect from anyone, and he certainly hasn’t earned it from her.
He’s never been anything but cold and distant to her, despite himself. Original impression of her sullied by jealousy and snap judgment based only on her family and blood status.
Ominis is quite ashamed now of how he treated her those first few weeks of fifth year. Less so of how he clammed up afterwards, hardly ever acknowledging her or speaking to her directly. His tongue tied with nerves and insecurity as his affections softened and she seeped into his every pore.
He had warmed to Grace incredibly quickly, in truth, embarrassingly quickly. Though it had been hard for him to articulate, even in the privacy of his own mind, why that was.
Love. You’re in love with her you absolute bellend.
Yet, despite his every attempt to drive her away, she seems to have endless patience for his social bumbling and unlikable qualities. Often taking even his most cutting comments with a laugh and an eye roll Ominis can feel from across full rooms.
He knows it isn’t for his benefit. It’s always been clear she only cares about him at all for what he means to Sebastian. Still, he’s glad for it.
Ominis is not fool enough to think she could not take Sebastian all for herself if she wanted.
Still, it rankles him. Her kindness. Not just the way she thought of him when they received the assignment, of the extra help he would need. But the way she lets him contribute. Risking the outcome of her own brew by allowing Ominis to participate. Describing each step she takes, every time the potion changes color or consistency.
The reaction is ridiculous. Ominis’ blindness is no secret nor are any of the troubles it causes him. There are simply things he cannot do, and she is trying to accommodate him.
It causes a pang in his chest, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
He doesn’t want her to see him struggle like this. He wants her to think him capable despite himself. A man who can solve his own problems, who doesn’t need pity or handouts.
The fact that those things are quite evidently not true only makes the situation worse. It builds up quickly within Ominis, his self hatred and insecurity, until he unleashes on her all at once. Barely making it a quarter into what was meant to be an hour long class before he erupts.
Ominis reaches for his iron stirring rod when he should have grabbed copper. Grace had laid them out separately for him at the start, but he still somehow manages to get the wrong one in hand.
Her correction of him is gentle and, more importantly, necessary --- lest he trash the whole brew.
“You know,” she is saying, clearly pleased with whatever thought she’s just had. “If you carved a symbol or even just a different notch on the handle of each instrument, I bet it --”
“I did not ask for your help. I do not need your help,” he spits out, a wounded animal. Visibly in need of her kindness and assistance but still so unable to let himself take it, “I have been blind all of my life, no one was there to hold my hand when I took the O.W.L.s and yet I have” -- somehow -- “managed to qualify for the same advanced potions class as you.”
“If you want someone to coddle, may I suggest joining Weasley. He is certainly more prone to potions disasters than I and could use the supervision.” Garreth would be the one left unpartnered, first in line behind Ominis in the queue for ‘more trouble than they’re worth’.
She doesn’t speak another word to him, although she stands at his side for at least a minute more before deciding to take his advice.
Ominis barely has five minutes to berate himself before Weasley’s cauldron explodes, one of the loudest sounds Ominis has ever had the displeasure of experiencing, and more than enough to make his ears ring, distorting his understanding of the aftermath.
Sharp is shouting at everyone to vanish their potions and step away from their stations. Natsai is sent to retrieve Blainey immediately, and Ominis hears the rapid clicks of her hooves on the stone as she sprints down the hall.
“He’s breathing.” Someone shouts and Ominis should back up to the wall with the rest of the class, but he can’t seem to move from his spot.
“It’s not Mr. Weasley I’m concerned about. Although someone should go fetch his aunt. He was thrown clear of the blast, Ms. Carrow was not. We don’t know what effect contact with Mr. Weasley’s…..unique concoction may inspire. Best to be cautious, especially with these ingredients.”
Sharp casts a spell to clear the fumes from the air and vanish the mess of their ruined cauldron, and Ominis feels as if his feet are pulling him towards her without his permission.
There’s a faintly floral aroma in the air near where she lies, unmoving. A good sign, perhaps.
The potion they were meant to be brewing smells more of burnt bread than anything else, but most potions that smell as appealing as Weasley’s mystery brew are relatively harmless.
Most.
Relatively.
Ominis chides himself for trying to divert blame already. It does not matter if she turns out to be in perfect health after this. Things could have easily gone quite differently.
Blaming it entirely on Weasley is tempting.
But the fact remains. Grace would have been safe if Ominis had just been able to conduct himself like any other stupidly besotted student. He should have let himself stumble over his words and make a fool of himself in front of her. At least if he’d done that she would be safe.
Sharp makes no comment as Ominis kneels down at her side, fingers wrapping as lightly as they can around her wrist, feeling the steadiness of her pulse.
“Class dismissed!” Sharp barks, though Ominis does not hear the sound of any feet moving in response.
There is the sharp clinking of glass as Blainey bustles into the room still smelling of floo powder and working herself up into an awful strop when Sharp calls out abruptly, “Noreen, good. An invigoration potion quickly, please!”
Only moments later Garreth grumbles awake, complaining of the pain in his head. Ominis is still holding her hand, can’t seem to make himself let go actually, though Grace is unlikely to be forgiving of his familiarity if once she wakes up.
“Mr. Weasley, I understand you are out of sorts, but time may well be of the essence. What changes did you make to your recipe today?”
“I - I didn’t use anything volatile, I promise. All I did was substitute the salamander tail for some ashwinder eggs. I thought it would improve the --”
“Ashwinder eggs, Mr. Weasley, have a very well documented and widely-known effect when combined with Rose Petals.” It’s more hostile than Ominis has heard Sharp be with a student since Garreth lit Prewett’s robes and their entire potions kit of ingredients alight with magical flame in third year. “Perhaps a potions prodigy such as yourself can expound upon it?”
Ominis can hear the air leave Weasley in a rush, and it is easy to imagine he has gone quite pale. There’s no answer needed, everyone knows what it will mean.
A Love Potion. A poorly mixed one, with an unknown lifecycle and side-effects. Sharp will have to custom make an antidote, and until then….
‘Until then’, what? Usually love potions need to be somehow imbued with a focus. A piece of hair, an activation phrase, a sliver of the brewers magical signature…..and quite rarely --
Grace stirs slightly beneath his fingertips, voice groggy as she tries weakly to right herself. Sharp seems to realize what might happen at the same time Ominis does, though they are both far too slow to act upon it.
Some love potions, although it is quite rare, merely make the drinker imprint upon the first person they see.
“Garreth?” she calls out, “What happened? I told you that the smell wasn’t right--oh! Ominis, are you not cross with me anymore?” The sudden change from concern to delight is clear in her voice. Confirming Ominis’ worst fears.
It is only when the furious whispers pick up along the back wall of the room that Ominis even remembers they are not alone.
“Nothing leaves this room!” Sharp barks harshly as Blainey casts a few quick healing charms over Garreth before bustling over to Grace, pushing Ominis out of the way.
“If I hear so much as a whisper of this throughout the school the rumormonger will be identified and harshly punished. Especially, were such a foul bit of gossip to originate from a member of my own house.”
The tense hush returns in the wake of such a declaration.
“Now, once again, class is dismissed!”
There is a short storm of noise as all the students scurry to gather their belongings and vacate the room, all while leaving a wide berth between themselves and the three affected students.
Ominis briefly wonders if he should leave as well, but the damage is already done, and he wants to be sure there are no more complications.
Then Deputy Headmistress Weasley arrives, and after a few diagnostic spells on Grace, and a hurried application of burn paste, they are all ushered into Sharp’s office.
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They’ve gotten quite lucky with Weasley’s accidental brew, it would seem.
Although no two love potions are entirely alike, they most often inspire a desperate and fanatic kind of love. People under their influence may find it difficult to complete normal tasks, getting constantly distracted by thoughts of their beloved. Needing to be near them all hours of the day.
There are countless horror stories about the jealousy they can inspire leading to horrible ends.
But Grace is strangely logical about it all.
She has no problem separating from Ominis, although she does specifically request he stay present for the discussion, after Garreth’s detentions are dispensed the others are summarily dismissed for privacy.
Sharp sits her down and explains the situation. Denial is not uncommon for people under the influence of emotionally manipulative potions. The very nature of the effects make it hard, if not impossible, to self-diagnose.
Grace, though, surprises everyone present by accepting everything she is being told as fact.
“But I’ve always loved Ominis. Certainly it feels more…urgent now than it has before -- but it’s never been a problem, I promise I won’t be pushy.” Ominis hears her chair creak as she turns to look at him, “I’ve never made you uncomfortable with it, have I?”
Sharp saves him the awkwardness of trying to answer such a question, thankfully.
“I’m sure you believe that, Ms. Carrow, and I don’t mean to be dismissive. It’s only that such objections are quite common from people in your situation.”
She sighs, clearly quite frustrated that no one is listening to her.
It’s far too candid an answer for Ominis’ taste. Perhaps the others do not speak with her enough to notice, but Grace is not an expressive person. Usually obfuscating all of her real feelings and concerns under several layers of political people pleasing. Saying what she means so directly is an alarming change for her, and most certainly the potion’s doing.
“It’s important to treat this carefully. Such a potion is untested, and considering the ingredients….I wouldn’t be surprised if there were unexpected complications. Mr. Gaunt, I am sorry, but I must ask you to keep close watch over Ms. Carrow until we’ve resolved the situation. Please report any sudden changes or negative side effects to me directly and without delay. It would be quite unfair for her to suffer the consequences of Mr. Weasley's careless actions any more than she already has.”
Ominis understands what deliberately isn’t being said. It is a nastier side effect of many love potions that the more you resist acting on the impulses bestowed upon you the worse any emotional or physical suffering becomes.
There is a nauseating rush of blood in his veins, breaking him out in a cold sweat as his eagerness at the chance to experience intimacy with her conflicts directly with the stomach turning knowledge that she cannot consent in this state, and does not truly want any of it.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, professor.” Grace speaks up, her voice earnest and pleading. Far from her normal overly calculated countenance. “I usually try not to impose myself on Ominis too much. He’s not very fond of me, you see.”
“Yes, well…” Sharp begins awkwardly. Prompting Ominis to step in, allowing his professor the courtesy of not having to choose which of his students’ comfort to prioritize.
“I assure you I am perfectly capable of enduring a few untoward compliments and a bit less privacy. ”
Even to himself the comfort sounds unconvincing. The real fear being that he may enjoy the attention far too much. Despite the distaste Ominis feels at the thought of wringing any joy from Grace’s suffering.
Sharp clears his throat and tries again. “I assure you both that Madame Blainey and I will be hard at work on an antidote. Mr. Weasley as well, if I have anything to say about it. With a bit of good fortune things should be resolved in only a few days' time.”
They are dismissed with some extra burn paste and strict instructions to try and keep the reality of the situation from leaking to the school population at large.
“I don’t expect you to get by entirely on your own. Mr. Sallow of course can be brought into confidence, as he would have been privy to such information anyways -- had he actually been in class.”
Ominis is not fool enough to ignore the careful exclusion of the Headmaster thus far. It’s relieving.
If Black finds out about what’s happened, it will only be a matter of time before he spreads the information to their families, who would surely not find themselves above taking advantage of Grace’s condition.
Personally, Ominis can think of several horrifying outcomes, given Grace’s current vulnerability, were two houses of blood purists to involve themselves.
“I think we may have missed lunch.” Grace says sadly as they make their way down the hall, silence tense between them. “I’m sure if we stop by the room Deek would be happy to fetch us something before Ancient Runes.”
“No.” Ominis barks, a bit too harshly. Overcome quite suddenly by the horrific realization of what the room might conjure up for them in their current state.
It’s not surprising that such a thing doesn’t occur to Grace, since she has no idea that the two of them are currently more aligned in their affections than ever.
“We’ll stop by the kitchens, they’re sure to have leftovers.”
“Alright.” she adds after another extended silence. Very deliberately seeming to put more room between them -- though by the time they’ve descended the stairs she has drifted close to him once more. Hand brushing against his occasionally as they walk.
Ominis has the sinking feeling it is going to be a very long couple of days.
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