Green is the Color || Ominis x OC || Hogwarts Legacy

Of Puzzles in the Morning Sun

Ominis firmly believed that the Room of Requirement was the warmest place in Hogwarts, and that was only because Allegra was so miserable in the cold.

Today he was sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her Stridavari violin in his hands. They'd been spending the morning wrapped up in each other's arms. Ominis was content to be held as Allegra read to him from a book of her favorite short stories, smiling when she put on voices and acted out the parts.

But then she'd decided she wanted him to try out music. So here he was, holding her (very expensive) violin and dancing his fingers along its neck and strings.

The instrument felt strange under Ominis' touch. Allegra, leaning behind him, was guiding his fingers to the right positions, leading the other hand to the bow of the violin. Ominis was trying very hard to focus.

But she was leaning so closely against him, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, that it was hard to think of anything else.

"Alright," Allegra said with a laugh. She guided his fingers onto the strings. "There's your C, your do. Show me the next note."

Ominis obliged, tapping his finger in the position she'd shown him. "Here?"

"Yes, good," Allegra said excitedly. "Now it's just a pattern from there. Give it a try."

He did, frowning as he managed to produce a sour, squeaky sound. Allegra guided him with each note, each step. One hand guided his fingers. The other rested on his arm as he slid the bow back and forth. With her careful guidance, Ominis managed to play out a stumbling scale.

"Well done," she said gleefully, taking the violin from his hands. "See? I'll make a musician out of you yet."

Ominis chuckled as he rubbed at his fingers. "Do all instruments make your hands hurt?"

Allegra paused to think. "Yes and no," she said slowly, "some more than others. Stringed instruments tend to hurt the most, but you build calluses over time." He reached for her hand and thumbed along her fingertips, feeling the firm lines of skin there.

"What made you want to learn music, Allegra?" Ominis asked.

She hummed, her hands moving to his waist. "I was always surrounded by it. Mama and Papa sang and played their instruments, and my Nonno—that's my grandfather—was a virtuoso himself. I think I was always meant to play an instrument. It was in my blood." Her voice turned mischievous. "But do you know what, Ominis?"

He smiled. "What?"

"I think they made me get those lessons—singing and violin—to shut me up." Allegra giggled, falling backward into the bed. "So instead of making useless noise, I would make something that sounded beautiful instead. I do love it, though: there's nothing better than a good song." He shifted his position and opened his arms. Moments later, she sank into his embrace.

"You must have been a terribly behaved child, then," Ominis teased, earning himself a hard pinch on the cheek.

"I was perfectly behaved, thank you," Allegra said haughtily, "Only I got so easily bored, and that led to all sorts of misadventures and plenty of hiding from my Mama."

"Oh?" Ominis ran a hand through the length of her hair, leaning his cheek on the top of her head. "Tell me about one."

Allegra is six.

She is six and humming as she plays a tune on her violin, fingers already sore from hours of practice. Today, she is walking barefoot along the roots of their clementine trees, kicking away the fallen fruit on the soil. Her mother had done her hair up in twin plaits only hours before.