Chapter Text
The late afternoon light pooled softly in the sitting room, casting a warm, golden glow over Ominis and Charlotte as they sat on the sofa in their private quarters. Charlotte watched him prepare their tea. His lips were pulled into a thin line and Charlotte knew it wasn’t just from concentration. The weight of the Summit, of those colored lights still lingered on his shoulders, pressing down.
The results of the vote had surprised them both, Ominis especially. She had watched his face shift, ever so slightly, into hope. He wasn't alone in wanting something better for those without a voice. Charlotte felt a swell of pride fill her chest as he took a stand, going against not only his father but the very legacy he had be born into and forced to bear.
She traced her fingers over his, pulling him away from his thoughts. When he turned his head, she brushed her lips gently against his cheek, pulling his hand to her lap. “I'm proud of you.”
A light flush coated his cheeks at her words and his eyes softened just a little. He tightened his hold on her hand, pouring his gratitude into that simple gesture. She wanted him to know, in the depths of his heart, that he didn’t have to face any of this alone.
His gaze dropped to their joined hands, and he brushed his thumb along the lines of her fingers, as though savoring the contact. “I never thought… I’d actually do it,” he murmured, disbelief mingling with a hint of pride. “To stand up to him, to go against the family. For a moment there, watching the votes, I felt like… like there was a chance for something better.”
Charlotte’s smile deepened, her heart swelling with admiration. She squeezed his hand, her fingers moving slowly in response. “You are strong Ominis. Your family does not define you.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, sipping their tea. Even though the weight of the day lingered, it no longer felt has heavy. Not here, not with him. They were bound together by this shared hope that even within the darkness of his legacy, there was a sliver of light to be found. And that brought them peace.
But their peace was shattered in an instant when the heavy oak door slammed open, hitting the wall with a force that reverberated through the room. Charlotte jolted, her teacup slipping from her fingers and crashing to the floor, shattering into shards as tea seeped into the rug. The warmth fled from the room, replaced by an oppressive chill as Moros Gaunt entered, his presence dark and thunderous, a storm contained within human form.
“Ominis,” His voice a low, venomous drawl, each syllable vibrating with barely restrained fury. The air seemed to thicken, pressing down on them, heavy and suffocating. He stepped further into the room, his gaze fixed on his son with a lethal focus that sent a cold shiver down Charlotte’s spine.
Ominis’s jaw tightened as he rose, his face hardening, though Charlotte could feel the tremor in his hand as he released hers. He took a step forward, facing his father head-on, his voice steady but wary. “Yes, Father?”
Moros’s sneer twisted his features into something almost inhuman as he advanced on Ominis, each step deliberate, calculated. His gaze raked over his son, a disdainful glint in his eyes that seemed to strip away every layer of dignity Ominis had fought to maintain. “I trust you are prepared to explain yourself,” he said, his voice as cold and sharp as a knife.
Ominis’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to maintain a calm, almost indifferent expression. With a steady hand, he stooped low, setting his teacup down on the table, the delicate clink of porcelain ringing out in the tense silence. “Explain myself, Father?” he replied, his tone cool but unwavering. “I believe my intentions were clear enough in the session.”
Moros’s lip curled, his contempt a palpable weight in the air. “Clear?” he repeated, his voice thick with derision. “You call that disgraceful display clear?” His tone was like a lash, each word hitting with the force of a blow. “You embarrassed this family, undermined everything we stand for in front of the entirety of the Wizengamot. Your insolence is beyond comprehension.”
Charlotte could feel her pulse quicken, a surge of protective anger flaring up inside her. She wanted nothing more than to stand between them, to shield Ominis from his father’s wrath. But the fury in his father's gaze rooted her to the spot, a silent reminder of the danger they faced. She had only seen anger like this once before. In Marvolo. She clenched her hands tightly in her lap, forcing herself to remain calm, a steady presence beside Ominis.
Ominis stood his ground, though he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. “I spoke my mind, Father. I stood up for what I believe in,” he replied, each word chosen with careful defiance.
Moros’s face darkened, the shadows deepening around his features as his fury simmered just beneath the surface. “What you believe in?” he echoed, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “What you believe in is irrelevant, Ominis! You are a Gaunt. You speak what the family commands you to speak. Your beliefs,” he spat the word as though it were poison, “mean nothing.”
Ominis’s lips tightened into a thin line, his voice rising with a rare surge of defiance. “I am not a puppet, Father! I am my own man, not an echo of who you want me to be. The world is changing. With it, we need to change as well, whether you like it or not. Our legacy that you care so much about can no longer be built on cruelty and-”
Before he could finish, a violent fury flared in Moros’s eyes, dark and menacing, twisting his face into a mask of barely restrained rage. In a sudden, brutal motion, he lunged forward, his hand grabbing the front of Ominis’s robes, yanking him close with a force that stole the breath from his lungs. The impact was jarring, their faces mere inches apart as hot, angry breath washed over Ominis.
Ominis’s hands instinctively flew up to claw at his father’s grip, his fingers digging into his hand in a desperate attempt to loosen the brutal hold. His pulse thundered in his ears, his own breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought against the suffocating grip.
Charlotte gasped, rising to her feet, her heart racing as she watched the scene unfold, fear rooting her in place. She wanted to intervene, to tear her father-in-law away from Ominis, but the anger in his eyes held her still. She felt like a rabbit in a den of wolves. No. Snakes.
“Cruelty?” Moros spat, his voice a venomous hiss, low and dangerous. “You speak of cruelty as though you understand it, as though you have the right to lecture me on our legacy.” His grip tightened, his knuckles white against Ominis’s robes, every ounce of his strength focused on keeping his son in his grasp.
Ominis’s breath hitched as he looked between them, his own eyes blazing with defiance. “Perhaps then our legacy isn’t worth defending if it’s built on fear and oppression,” he said, his voice strained but steady, each word a challenge, even as his body trembled under the force of his father’s grip.
Moros’s expression darkened, his grip tightening until Ominis could feel the bruising pressure against his chest, the fabric of his robes twisting painfully under his father’s clenched fist. His other hand reached up to press hard against Ominis’s jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze directly, the touch harsh, invasive. “You dare defy me?” he whispered, his voice a dangerous, low growl, the rage simmering beneath the surface like a coiled serpent.
Switching to Parseltongue, his voice dropped to a slithering hiss, each word dripping with venom. “You think you’re powerful, little serpent? Think that your defiance makes you strong?” The language of snakes filled the room, wrapping around Ominis like a dark, malevolent spell, each word digging under his skin, into his mind.
Charlotte’s heart pounded in her chest, the sound of the strange, sibilant words filling her with a visceral fear. She watched, frozen, as his fathers fingers dug into Ominis’s jaw, pressing with a force that threatened to leave bruises. She wanted to pull him back, to shield him, but she knew that any interference would only fuel Moros’s rage.
Ominis swallowed, his face pale but his gaze defiant, his voice barely more than a whisper as he hissed back. “Strength isn’t found in cruelty, Father. It’s found in choosing to stand for something more than fear.”
Moros’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his hand tightening on Ominis’s jaw, the grip brutal, possessive. He leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper that seemed to pierce the air. “Strength is power, little serpent,” he hissed, his fingers pressing hard enough to force Ominis’s head back, exposing his throat in a display of dominance. “Strength is knowing how to bend people to your will. Strength is doing what is necessary for your blood.”
Ominis’s breath was shallow, his chest tight under his father’s punishing grip, but his gaze remained unbroken, his voice a thin hiss of defiance. “If loyalty to blood demands cruelty, then perhaps it isn’t loyalty worth keeping.”
The words ignited something dark in Moros’s gaze, his face twisting with a rage that seemed to surge like a storm about to break. His hand released Ominis’s jaw only to seize his collar with both hands, wrenching him forward with a force that left Ominis gasping.
“I could make you beg, boy,” he murmured, his voice a quiet, lethal whisper that filled the room with dread. “Make you scream until you remember exactly who holds the power in this family.”
Ominis’s face paled, but his gaze never wavered, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a quiet defiance. “Then do it, if that’s the only way you know how to lead.”
Moros’s fingers wrapped around the back of Ominis’s neck, into his hair, yanking the locks down, painfully forcing him to follow until he was nearly on his knees, the pressure relentless, suffocating. The cruel strength of his grip sent a jolt of pain down Ominis’s spine, as he hissed in pain. Charlotte could see the flicker of fear in his eyes, a vulnerability he tried desperately to mask, as he clung to his fathers wrist that still held tight to his shirt.
Moros’s lips twisted into a smile, dark and predatory, his voice a chilling, soft murmur. “Careful, Ominis. Don’t tempt me to remind you of pain.”
His hand let go of his son's robes, yanking from his grip. He hovered over his wand, fingers twitching with barely restrained violence. “You remember, don’t you? I wonder if you’ve forgotten its bite.”
Charlotte’s heart plummeted, her hands shaking as she watched, her pulse roaring in her ears. She could barely breathe, the weight of Moros’s threat filling the room, oppressive and malevolent. She wanted to scream, to reach out, but she couldn't. Not when Ominis was ensnared in his grasp.
Ominis’s voice was barely a whisper, strained as his head was bent unnaturally, yet defiant. “You can do your worst, Father… but it won’t make me into the monster you are.”
Moros’s fury deepened, his face contorting with a venomous rage. He reached for his wand, his fingers curling around the dark ebony wood, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. “You think defiance makes you strong? No, Ominis… it makes you weak. It makes you a fool. Perhaps you need a reminder of your place,” he hissed, his voice chillingly calm, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps I should teach you what it means to defy me.”
The curse hovered unspoken in the air, thick with menace, like a serpent ready to strike. Ominis could feel its weight bearing down as he braced himself for the pain. His fathers grip on the wand tightened as he raised it, his intention clear, his gaze dark with the promise of pain.
But before he could cast, there was a swift, silent flash of magic. His wand flew from his grip, spinning through the air until it landed in Charlotte’s trembling hand. She stood there, her face pale but resolute, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as she clutched the wand to her chest, her fingers white with the force of her grip.
She wasn't sure when she had casted the wandless magic but she knew it was a dangerous game she entered into.
Moros released Ominis, shoving him back harshly to the floor as his father turned slowly, his expression one of pure, murderous fury. His eyes narrowed, lips curling back in a snarl as he took a step toward her.
Charlotte’s breath hitched as Ominis fell sprawled across the floor but her eyes quickly snapped back to his father. The room seemed to contract, the very air thickening with the weight of his rage, a dark, seething force that filled the space around them.
“You dare?” his voice a low, venomous growl. His eyes gleamed with a hatred so intense it was almost tangible, his usual composure shattered, replaced by the raw, unfiltered rage of a man stripped of his power. “You insolent little wretch. You dare defy me?”
Charlotte took a step back, and another, and another, her spine pressing against the wall as he advanced, her heart pounding in her chest, a wild, instinctual fear clawing at her throat. She gripped the wand tighter against her chest, but her hands were shaking, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as he closed in, his gaze dark and predatory, like a tiger stalking its prey.
“Oh, you think you’re brave, don’t you?” Moros taunted, his voice a poisonous whisper as he leaned in close, his face mere inches from hers. “You think you can stand between me and my son? You think a little spell makes you powerful?”
He raised his hand, his fingers hovering just above her face, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he watched her flinch. “Let me teach you something about power, girl,” he whispered, his voice cold, chillingly soft, a dark promise lingering in his gaze. “It’s not given. It’s taken. And you’re nothing more than a foolish child who’s about to learn a very painful lesson.”
The coldness in his gaze, the way he seemed to savor her fear, sent a shudder through her. Her courage wavered, terror rippling through her as he loomed over her, each movement calculated, every inch of him radiating a threat that felt all-consuming. She was backed into the wall, her breath shallow, the wand slipping slightly in her sweaty grip. But before he could move any closer, Ominis’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unyielding.
“Enough!” Ominis’s voice was like steel, steady and hard, slicing through the room with a force that commanded attention. “Touch her, and you’ll lose me forever.”
Moros froze, both their gazes flickering back to Ominis, his expression a mixture of fury and disbelief, her’s was filled with fear and concern. He straightened slowly, his eyes narrowing as he studied Ominis, as if gauging the weight of his words.
“You’d throw away everything?” Moros sneered “All for this… girl?” He spat the word out as if it filled his mouth with a disgusting taste.
Ominis’s jaw tightened, his voice unwavering. “If you lay a single finger on her, I’ll turn my back on you and everything you hold dear. I’ll renounce the Gaunt name. You’ll lose me and any hope of redeeming your precious legacy. You can’t afford to lose another heir, can you, Father?”
A deadly silence fell over the room, filled only by shallow, ragged breathing, the weight of his words settling between them like a sword poised to strike. Moros’s face contorted, a mixture of rage and something darker flickering in his eyes. For a moment, he looked ready to snap, to lash out, his entire frame taut with fury.
But then, slowly, his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed, calculating, the rage simmering beneath the surface as he processed Ominis’s defiance. He knew Ominis meant every word. With a sneer, he turned back to Charlotte, his gaze lingering on the wand in her hand.
He reached out, snatching it from her grasp with a violence that left her fingers stinging, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he reclaimed his power. He cast one last, venomous look at her, his eyes cold and mocking, before turning back to Ominis.
Moros took a step back, his gaze cold and unyielding, his voice filled with disdain. “You think you've won something? You want to stand against me, boy? Fine. But know this, defiance will be your ruin. You think you’re ready to challenge me, to bring shame upon this family?” His voice dropped into a venomous hiss. “I will break you, piece by piece, until you remember exactly where you belong.”
Without another word, Moros stormed from the room, the door slamming shut with a force that reverberated through the walls, leaving behind a silence thick with the echoes of his fury. The tension he left in his wake was suffocating, an oppressive weight that seemed to linger, pressing down on everything it touched.
Charlotte sagged against the wall, her legs buckling beneath her as the adrenaline that had fueled her courage drained away. Her breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her chest, trying to steady herself. Her lungs wouldn’t work. The room felt too small, too dark, her vision blurred by the lingering image of Moros’s cold, venomous gaze. She could still feel the weight of it on her, like a bruise yet to bloom, a mark that would stay long after he was gone.
Ominis crossed the room in an instant, his presence a stark contrast to the cruelty that had filled it moments before. He gathered her into his arms, holding her close, his embrace fierce and grounding, his fingers threading gently through her hair as he whispered soft reassurances, though his own heart was pounding against his ribs.
“Are you alright?” he murmured, his voice low and tender, as though afraid to break the fragile silence around them. His arms tightened around her, as if he could shield her from the memory of his father’s fury, as if he could erase the imprint Moros had left on her heart.
But all she could do was sob into his chest, clutching his robes with trembling hands, as the weight of realization settled over her like a shroud. He didn’t need to ask if she was alright. She wasn’t and he knew it. She had finally seen the full, unvarnished cruelty of his father, the lengths to which he would go to preserve his power, to ensure submission, even if it meant wielding dark curses on his own flesh and blood.
The truth hit her with a sickening clarity. She’d known the Gaunts were cruel, that darkness tainted their legacy, but she hadn’t understood, not fully. Not until now. It didn’t take a genius to know what spell Moros had been about to cast if she hadn’t stopped him. The Cruciatus Curse. The curse that inflicted agony, tearing apart a person’s will with pain alone. And he’d been willing to use it on his own son. Her husband.
The realization left her hollow, a cold dread settling in her bones. The Gaunts didn’t just flirt with darkness. They embraced it, used it as a weapon against their own. And she was now tethered to this family, bound by marriage, by vows, by a legacy that seeped into her like poison. This was the family her children would inherit, the bloodline she would bear forward. A lineage that sanctioned cruelty, that justified torture in the name of tradition and control.
She pulled back slightly, looking up at Ominis, searching his face, her expression raw with questions she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Had he ever intended to tell her? Would he have shared this truth, or would he have kept it buried, hidden in the darkness of his past? She felt a twist of betrayal cut through her, sharp and unbidden. They had been intimate, vulnerable with one another in ways she hadn’t imagined possible, and yet…he hadn’t told her this. He hadn’t trusted her with the depths of his family’s horrors, the truths that haunted him.
A silent sob escaped her, her chest heaving as she tried to process the enormity of what she’d just witnessed. Her gaze met Ominis’s, wide and vulnerable. With trembling fingers, she took his hand and traced her words into his palm, each letter a thread of her heartbreak.
“Did he… do that to you?”
Ominis’s face went still, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line. Charlotte’s heart twisted, the silence speaking volumes. The unspoken truth hung heavily between them, settling like a dark cloud, impossible to ignore.
She searched his face, her eyes pleading, her questions shimmering in her gaze. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
The silence stretched, thick and unyielding, as if he were struggling to find words that didn’t exist, words that could explain away the pain she saw flickering in his expression.
His face fell, guilt shadowing his features. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, weighed down by the unspoken pain, by memories he’d kept locked away, even from her. And in his silence, she found her answer.
A tear slipped down her cheek, hot and bitter, as the reality of it settled in her heart. She’d thought she understood him, thought she knew the man she’d married. But now, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure if she could ever truly know someone who carried this kind of pain, this kind of darkness, without sharing it, without trusting her enough to let her see it.
Ominis reached to brush her cheek, comfort her in the only way he knew how, but she pulled away, something inside her shattering. She saw the hurt flash in his eyes, a flicker of understanding, of regret, but it wasn’t enough. Not now. Not with the weight of everything she’d just learned pressing down on her, suffocating her with its presence.
With a soft, broken whimper, she stood, shaking her head. Her shoulders curled inward as if that could protect her from the truth, from the dark legacy she was now bound to. She took a shaky step back, her gaze filled with a pain that went beyond words, beyond anything she could express.
Ominis’s hand dropped to his side, as he stood as well, the hurt in his eyes mirroring her own. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his tongue, swallowed by the weight of everything left unsaid. The silence between them deepened, stretching into an insurmountable chasm, a barrier built on secrets and shadows.
Charlotte shook her head once more, her gaze lingering on him, a silent plea, a question he hadn’t answered. Why didn’t you tell me?
Unable to bear the weight of his silence, she turned and fled, she turned away from him, her footsteps unsteady as she crossed the room. She paused in the doorway to their bedroom, her shoulders tense, her heart splintered. She wanted to look back, to reach out, to find comfort in his arms, but the knowledge of what he’d kept from her, of the horrors he’d endured in silence, held her back.
As she stepped out of the room, leaving him standing alone in the fading light, the weight of the Gaunt legacy pressed down on her, a dark cloud that felt inescapable. She had vowed to stand by him, to share his burdens, but now, she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough. Not if it meant being part of a family that would one day see her children as tools, as pawns in a game of power and cruelty.
It broke her heart.