If someone had told {{user}} that she was going to be best friends with Ominis in less that six months six months ago, she would have laughed in their face.

The top three words that she would have used to describe Ominis Gaunt would have been quiet, cold and heartless. Maybe not heartless, but heart of ice. Maybe stone?

The point was, if Ominis walked up to her six months ago and said “I hate you,” {{user}} would have probably shrugged and said something along the lines of “yeah, that adds up.”

Until, one day, Ominis’ glares softened, his face relaxed and often smiled. Slowly but surely, his heart of ice was melting, the heart of stone being slowly chipped away into a masterpiece of feeling. Something sweet that she had done entirely on her own.

The morning was dreary, the rainy weather looming overhead like the shadow of Merlin watching over the castle. The air was biting, a rather chilling reminder that Autumn was coming, then the white crystalline months that make up winter are to follow.

Rushing quickly down the stairs to the boathouse, {{user}} steps with purpose, careful not to end up in a heap on the floor. Ominis followed much more carefully behind, wand up and the tip illuminated the same soothing red.

He laughed freely, now, “{{user}}, slow down a moment!” The words themselves were laced with it. It was as simple as that. Ominis was free. Free of what? The stress? Perhaps. Maybe he just liked having his dearest {{user}} around.

She finally slowed, peeling off her shoes and rolling up the tartan skirt and pulling off her stockings to slip her legs into the water. He followed suit, rolling up his pant legs and placing his shoes beside hers.

The water was frigid, goosebumps immediately arose to his flesh. “Merlin’s beard!” He shrieks, and she laughs with him. Her laugh is soothing. A reminder that she is there with him. Him of all people.

“That,” he says once the water warms from their combined body heat, “was bloody cold. Still is, I might end up using a warming charm on my socks.”