Hogwarts, 1890…

The morning sun poured like warm honey through the enchanted skylights of your Room of Requirement. Vines curled lazily down from the ceiling beams, draping over the archways and swaying with the faint breeze of charmed air. The room smelled of lavender and moss, damp earth and drying petals—your little sanctuary, far away from the rest of the castle.

In the quietest corner, tucked beneath a canopy of flowering ivy, sat your bedroom nook. A soft bed layered in green and gold blankets, pillows spilling over the edge like clouds. And nestled amongst them—arms wrapped securely around you—was Ominis.

His breathing was slow, steady, his blond hair tousled against your collarbone. The morning light kissed his features gently—his closed eyes, a slight smile tugging at his lips, the way his fingers absentmindedly brushed your arm as if to make sure you were still there.

“You always smell like rosemary when you sleep,” the wizard murmured, voice thick with sleep and affection. “I love it.”

You smiled, brushing his fringe back with careful fingers. “That’s because you insist on falling asleep in my herb corner, instead of our dormitories.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, then tucked his face closer into your neck, murmuring, “I insist on falling asleep next to you.”