HL one shots + asks

Silver Spoons

Ominis stood by his dresser fixing his tie once again, his skilled fingers easily tying the knot after years of practice. It was a mindless thing, something that drew his mind from what was coming. Something that shouldn't be as nerve wracking as the anxiety it was inducing in him.

Your family had invited him to a family dinner at your childhood home. He had yet to meet your family and it was something he had always been hesitant about. You, of course, didn't understand why he worried, insisting that they would love him, that "they didn't bite."

But how could he know? Not everyone's family was like them. If people knew his and their cruelty, they wouldn't even hesitate to assume he was the same. How could he be sure it wasn't the same? How could he be sure your family was as warm, open, kind and loving like you were?

He felt for his cologne, his hand slightly shaking as he sprayed it on, breathing deeply of the familiar smell grounding him. The smell that clung to your skin, that said you were his no matter what. It doesn't matter, he tells himself. Even if they hate me, she never will, she'll never leave.

One by one, through your words, your comforting touch, your gentle kiss on his cheek as you thanked him for helping you fasten your dress, the insecurities in his heart were unrooted.

You loved him, you were his, you were like the sun always shining, that was all that mattered.

Even if they were cruel, even if they were cold, even if they disapproved, your love burned hot.

"You've got this Ominis, you're the most amazing man I've ever met. They'll love you, I promise," you sang as the pair of you walked up the path to your childhood home, swinging your hands, fingers interlocked.

He paused, pulling you close and brushing a piece of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek. "As long as you love me, that's all I need. Promise you'll always love me?"

You laugh softly, reaching up to touch the hand on your cheek with one of yours, "I promise." You seal it by pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and it gives him the strength to knock on the door.

~~

Their voices are kind, their bodies warm as they pull him into welcoming hugs that he has to fight the urge to tense from. They tell you the party
is in the back garden and lead you through the house. His hands trace the walls as he feels his way around. His fingertips come across the edges of old wooden frames, likely holding your smiling face, the inscriptions reading your praises, moments frozen in time from your life. The day you left for Hogwarts, when you won the house cup, your Quidditch victories, the day you graduated.

You were well loved, and he hates the slight pang of jealousy he feels, and the one of guilt that his family was the way they were. If only he had met your family when he was still 15, before the danger of being a Gaunt's lover had affected both your lifes. Before he had to give a false name, a fake accent. Now no one knew Ominis Gaunt still lived, only Owen Grant remained. Perhaps someday it would be safe, and he'd be able to throw a party in a house of his own, as Ominis. But that was a foolish dream, meant for people not like him, people that had been loved.

In a house where it was okay to play outside until the sun was low in the sky, a light left on to guide you in from the dark. Where you were called to the table where a warm meal was set for you. Where you sat around holding hands and shared what you were grateful for. A home.

As Ominis sat next to you at the long table under the warm evening sky, listening to your family visit and asking each other how their days had been, how his day had been, he found himself thinking about how rich you were. Silver spoons could never compare to the love poured into every spoonful of warm stew that steamed in his bowl. That was wealth, not heaps of gold.