#Blood bound

[evaslytherpuff]

I’m speechless!!!😱😱 Also scared!!! This is insanely good!!!

Chapter 14

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️F!MC 🔺️ Leander Prewett

Tensions are building as emotions run high. Leander’s life hangs in the balance, and choices must be made.

Chapter Master List and Ao3

Tags: NSFW / Violence / Blood / Torture / Angst / Trauma / Dark Magic

Chapter 14: Trust Must Work Both Ways

Leander 

The insistent throb of pain in his chest made every heartbeat feel like fire, the pain spreading outwards in a wave with each pulse. It echoed in his head, his thoughts cloudy and fractured as he tried to open his eyes. It was so quiet, and he could feel a chill in the air, the scent of dirt mingled with a freshness that made him think of deep woodlands and clear, blue skies. It didn’t make sense. The last thing he remembered was the narrow chalk tunnels, running through the dark, and a girl screaming. 

Each time the world tried to flicker back to him, the pain intensified, but he couldn’t move his arms to try and ease it. The ground was cold and damp beneath his clothes, and when he tried to open his eyes to see, the blurry dimness was nothing more than smudges before him, illuminated in pale gold. 

Was this how it would all end? He tried to remember what happened, but the throbbing pain made it hard to focus. As he tried to place events in order in his memories, flashes of images presented themselves, all of them bleeding into one another as he rasped in wheezy breaths. His lungs burned. A woman with cold blue eyes. Luella Rookwood. A stinging slap to his face, rough hands dragging him. Miss Montgomery weeping. Pain. Always the pain.

The kitchen in Shell Cottage drifted in and out of his thoughts. He breathed in slowly, carefully, fancied he could hear the waves crashing on the shore, catch a glimpse of silken black hair and crystal blue eyes. He could hear her, she was speaking softly, her fingers touching his cheek. He wanted to retreat into the vision, it was safe there, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. 

“Lee, please, look at me,” her voice whispered, but there was an urgency to it. It didn’t match the peacefulness of the cottage. “Wake up. I need you to wake up, please.” 

His lashes fluttered, and a groan escaped him as the pain smashed into his chest anew. His head rolled, but gentle hands caught it and held him steady. He tried to swallow, his lips moving, but a mere croak came out. “MC?” 

He could hear her soft sniffles as though she was crying, and he blinked quickly, forcing his eyelids to open. Wincing at the glow of a fire torch, a hazy vision of MC came into view. She leaned over him, her hands holding his head.

”Oh, thank the Gods,” she gasped, gentle fingers smoothing back his hair. 

Gradually, his surroundings came into focus, the peaked canvas roof of a tent, a dirt floor. When he made to lift a hand to touch MC, bound ropes stopped him and he grunted, panic adding pressure to the awful pain in his chest as he tried to move. 

“Hold still,” she urged, holding up a potion bottle. His eyes felt itchy and tight as he focused on the little glass phial. Wiggenweld. “Open your mouth. I’m going to tip it in.” 

Her hand held his jaw as he parted his lips, and she eased his head back. The potion hit his tongue, his whole mouth tingling at the liquid relief. He was so thirsty. 

“You’re going to be alright,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at something. He wished he could move his arms. Her touch on his cheek pushed back against the agony. She smiled. “This time, I’m going to save you.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed the potion, focusing on the feel of her fingers stroking against his face, and let the drowsy feeling of sleep claim him again. 

MC

Her hands shook as she carefully eased Leander’s head back against the thick, wooden tent post, his eyes fluttering closed again. He was deathly pale under his freckles, his lips almost white, and it made for a sharp contrast against the blood. His cheek was slashed, and blood had trickled down from a wound on his head, his usually neatly combed hair sticky and mussed. His drowsiness frightened her, he didn't seem to know where he was, but when he had spoken her name, the relief had been palpable. 

They didn’t have much time. Sebastian could only distract for so long. Leaving the potion to work on Leander, MC crawled around him to the blonde girl tied against the pole at his back. She appeared relatively unharmed, just a split lip, likely from a swift blow to silence her. MC shook her shoulder and she groaned, blinking slowly before fixing a piercing gaze on her. She frowned, and then her face morphed with recognition. 

“You’re MC,” she said, clearing her throat. She sat up straighter, scowling at her bonds. “Did you do this?” 

MC scoffed and shook her head, narrowing her gaze a little as she studied the girl. She must be the one Leander had told her about, the new Auror who took McKinnon’s place. Her hair was pale blonde, her face as pretty as a little doll. She looked every bit the delicate maiden, but there was a strength in those eyes that spoke of determination and strong will. There had to be something about her considering she had made it through the Auror training program. 

“Are you injured?” MC asked, her eyes scanning down the slim frame beneath the Auror robes. 

“No, no I don’t think so,” she replied. Her intense gaze studied MC warily. “You are MC, aren’t you? The prisoner that Auror Prewett meets with.” 

MC aimed her wand towards the ropes, her face carefully impassive. “That’s me,” she said. “And you are his new partner. Apologies, I don’t recall your name.” 

“Montgomery,” she said, eyeing MC’s wand with a touch of wariness. “What are you doing?”

“Hold still. I’m going to cut the ropes and then I need your help. Leander is badly hurt, and I need to get him out of here.” 

She stiffened, her eyes flaring. “First name terms? How cosy.” 

MC fixed her with a hard stare, hoping that this girl didn’t start the sarcastic games that McKinnon seemed to favour. “Do you want me to cut you free, or not? Honestly, I don’t care either way. I just want to get Leander out of here before your worst nightmare comes through that door. Trust me, you do not want to face the camp Executioner.” 

Montgomery swallowed hard, her eyes darting towards the tent flaps that led outside, shifting nervously under her ropes. MC took little satisfaction in the flare of fear that flitted across Montgomery’s gaze, her patience was on a taut leash, her attention drawn to how Leander was faring. Reaching out a hand, she felt his forehead. It was cool to the touch, no fever.

“How bad is he?” Montgomery had twisted her head, trying to get a look at Leander behind her. “He was hit by a blasting hex from Luella Rookwood. His head hit a crate as he fell back.” 

“Not as well as I would like,” MC muttered, fresh hatred bubbling up for Rookwood’s spawn. She grit her teeth as she imagined Leander being hit, grimacing as she cast a slicing charm and the ropes fell apart, freeing the young Auror. MC shuffled back as Montgomery pushed the severed ropes free and brushed dust from her robe, shifting up stiffly and then gasping when she spotted Leander slumped behind her. There was concern in her eyes, but she recovered swiftly, her training kicking in as she did a quick scan of the tent, her mouth set into a firm line. 

“What is this place?”

“You’re in Scotland,” MC replied, crawling back to Leander to check on him. “This is an Ashwinder camp about three miles east of Bainburgh. I wouldn’t bother memorising the location, they move regularly to avoid discovery.” 

“They took our wands when they captured us,” Montgomery said, shuffling closer. “Any chance your plan to get us out involves retrieving them?” 

MC gave Montgomery a curious glance. Considering her dire circumstances, this Auror had a steel spine, and she was clearly ready to do whatever it took to help, including looking to an ex-prisoner for answers. There were none of the sly games that McKinnon had favoured, at least for now.

“You are going to trust me, then?” MC asked, looking Montgomery right in the eyes. 

“If it’s good enough for Auror Prewett, then yes, I will trust you,” she nodded. “What do we need to do?” 

A grudging respect for this Auror filtered through to MC, but she would still be keeping a close eye on her. She nodded towards a wooden bench on the far side of the tent. “Your wands should be on that table over there,” she said, pulling out another potion from her pocket. “Grab them, and then we need to get Leander awake enough so we can Apparate. I’m hoping he will be strong enough to travel that way.” 

As Montgomery hurried to search for the wands, MC gently took hold of Leander’s face, stroking his uninjured cheek. “I need you to wake up again, Lee,” she said, rising tension making her constantly glance towards the tent entrance. “Someone could come and check on you at any moment.”

His eyes fluttered, blinking open a bit quicker this time, the first dose of potion doing its work. She gently clasped his jaw, using her thumb to pull down his lower lip. “Another potion, Lee,” she murmured, meeting his bleary gaze. He managed a stiff nod and opened his mouth. “That’s it. This will help. Where does it hurt?” 

He swallowed down the potion and tried to move, wincing with a sharp intake of breath. “Chest…bad,” he wheezed. “Head…”

Sucking back tears at seeing him look so weak, fear dragging ice fingers down her spine, she leaned closer to him. “I need you to stay awake for me,” she urged, stroking back his hair. “I need to get you out of here. Do you think you could manage me Apparating you? Is that safe?” 

He nodded. “Do it,” he rasped. 

Swiftly cutting his ropes, she grabbed his shoulders as he slumped. Montgomery crouched beside her, the found wands in her hand. She helped MC steady Leander, her eyes far too curious as she looked between MC and him. 

“I’m going to assume nobody else in camp knows you are in here,” she said shrewdly, her eyes darting towards the door. “You risk the whole operation if you are caught assisting us.”

MC fixed her with another cold look. “I’ve got someone being a distraction, but it gives us minutes at best. I suggest you hold on to me, now.”

Both girls froze as the tent flap was shoved open, MC immediately snatching her wand into her grip and moving to block Leander. She thought she might actually faint with relief when Sebastian stepped in, quickly pulling the flap closed behind him. He looked tense, his eyes scanning the scene quickly before he hurried forward.

“Time to go, now,” he snapped, taking her arm. He glanced down at Leander and grimaced. “Shit, he doesn’t look good.” 

Montgomery was gaping, her eyes wide in shock. “Gods, you’re…you’re Sallow,” she gulped. 

Sebastian turned his gaze to her, seeing her properly for the first time. His lips curved into a smirk. “Indeed I am. Pleasure to meet you, Miss,” he said smoothly. He held out a hand towards her. “I assume you’re coming with us.”

“Auror Montgomery,” she mumbled, sliding a hesitant hand into Sebastian’s grip.

MC rolled her eyes at the blush that stained Montgomery’s cheeks as she wrapped her arm firmly around Leander, and tugged at Sebastian with the other hand. “Seb,” she hissed. 

As soon as Montgomery’s hand was firmly within his, he gave MC a nod, and that violent tug pulled behind her navel. It was mere seconds, but she felt the heavy drag in her arms as she clutched Leander, feeling the weight of bearing two as they were ripped through time and space. 

Sebastian

The landing was neither elegant or gentle as they crashed into the soft bed of wild grass. He hadn’t taken them too far, only to the Scottish border, a small spot near an old ruin of a castle. It was fully dark, a chill wind whipping across the exposed landscape. MC was clinging on to Prewett as if her life depended on it. From the looks of him, it was his life hanging in the balance, the blue tinge around his mouth suggested chest wounds and his pallor was very poor.

“Where the blazes are we?” Montgomery leapt to her feet, wand in hand as she scanned the darkened moor around them. “I thought you were taking us to get help. St Mungo’s would have been the better option.”

“For you, perhaps,” Sebastian muttered, more concerned about his own immediate problems. He reached for MC, grasping her elbow and tugging. “Come on, we need to get back to the camp before anyone notices we are missing.”

The tight, furious look on MC’s face told him he had a fight on his hands. Her fingers were curled into Prewett’s bloodied robe, and her chin lifted in that stubborn way of hers. “I’m not leaving him until I know he is alright,” she said flatly. 

“When they realise that the Aurors got out, it won’t take a genius to figure out who helped them when they discover you gone, too,” he pointed out, his own stubbornness kicking in. The mood back at camp had been restless, the Ashwinders hyped up by the scrap in the tunnels. Having prisoners to torment had their teeth gnashing eagerly, and things would sour really fast once they discovered the empty tent. He tightened his hold on MC, eyes dark and firm. “We need to go. Now. Let him go.” 

The flicker in her eyes, just a flash of pain that was quickly masked, but it revealed the double meaning behind those words. As soon as she could release her hold on Prewett, Sebastian had every intention of Apparating them both back to his tent, but her hands remained fisted tight in his robes, her mouth a tight line. Letting him go was more than just the physicality of it. She had to leave him here, in the dark. Injured, and in the hands of a stranger. That crack in her shield had revealed the panic, and the pain of having to let go. 

“I can’t just leave him,” MC said, her voice wavering slightly. Even her lips trembled. “He needs help.” 

“What exactly is going on here? You seem to be rather over familiar with Auror Prewett. Is there something afoot here that I should be aware of?” 

MC turned her attention towards the suspicious blonde Auror, her eyes hardening. Sebastian looked to her, too, but kept hold of MC’s arm. Montgomery was watching them through narrowed eyes, her wand not aimed at them, but ready in her grip. 

“There is nothing you need to be aware of,” MC said, her tone laced with ice. “Is it really so shocking that I would help him?” 

The wind whipped at their hair and clothing, but the rattle of Prewett’s wheezing breaths could still be heard. He coughed, blood staining his pale lips. As much as Sebastian could throttle the bastard through his fear of losing MC, to see him in this state was a sobering moment. He remembered Prewett as the stammering kid who still hadn’t grown into his feet at school, opening his big mouth without thinking, always trying to keep up with his peers but somehow managing to fall short every time. 

Look at him now. His robes were of fine quality. He was a fully fledged Auror, living a good life, and he had managed to capture the soft part of MC, and that was no easy task. Her shields were high and thick, but she had let him in. He’d always figured he hated Prewett, but perhaps it was merely envy. The bloke had carved himself a path through his struggles, he had done well, and it merely highlighted the mess Sebastian had managed of his own life. His ambitions had led him into darkness, whereas Prewett had strived to be better. Did he deserve to die in a field for his efforts just so Sebastian could keep MC close?

Sebastian found himself kneeling in the damp grass, pressing a hand to Prewett’s head to check for fever, his thoughts already racing through the various healing spells he knew through long hours of research. He heard MC’s sharp intake of breath, her cool hand clutching his arm. Had she thought he would hurt Prewett? Perhaps finish him off? It made his guts twist in shame because perhaps he was more than capable of doing just that. 

“It’s alright, MC. There is no fever, but his breathing suggests dangerous chest injury,” he said, aiming his wand towards Prewett’s sternum. “If his ribs are broken, they could have punctured his lungs. I can check.”

“Will he die?” MC asked desperately, as the tip of Sebastian’s wand glowed white.

A quick glance at her face revealed her fear despite the darkness of the wild moor around them, the weak light from his spell casting ghostly shadows on her taut expression. If Prewett died, it would crush her. If helping this damned Gryffindor didn’t prove how far he would go for her, then nothing else would. 

He shook his head. “Not if we help him.”

“I can’t believe what I am seeing,” Montgomery gasped, her eyes wide as she watched on. “An Ashwinder helping an Auror!”

Sebastian ignored her, allowing the spell to show him the cracked and ruined mess of Prewett’s ribs which were definitely broken, the images flickering before his eyes in black and white like an ink drawing. The spell he had learned during a study session with Ominis, researching ways that might help his old friend ‘see’ things. They had been amused at the illusions of their friends in skeletal forms, casting the spell on unsuspecting students at Hogwarts. At the time he hadn’t anticipated the uses he would need it for later in life, and now, staring at the ruin of Prewett’s chest cavity, he felt his stomach churn at the pain it must be inflicting on him. 

“You believe the hype that surrounds us, it seems, Montgomery. Perhaps we are not the monsters you think we are,” MC countered, eyeing Sebastian's wand movement as she gently stroked Prewett’s hair back. “How bad is it?”

Sebastian grimaced, meeting her worried expression with a shake of his head. “He needs a Healer. Broken ribs, most likely internal bleeding. I can mend the bones. I reset an Ashwinder’s broken leg once. It mended up a treat. As for the bleeding, that's a bit more tricky.” 

“He needs to go to St Mungo’s,” Montgomery insisted. “All Aurors have a designated bed available due to the violent nature of our work. He would be seen immediately.” 

“Then let's go,” MC said, already holding Prewett against her. His head rolled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His eyelids flickered as though he would wake, but he remained limp in her embrace. Time was running out. 

“No, we can't,” Sebastian said, grabbing her arm. “I'm wanted in London. You are supposed to be under cover, and with that article printed in the Prophet about you, there will be suspicion on both sides. Damage limitation, MC. Let Auror Montgomery take Prewett in. We need to return to camp and keep up appearances. You've done your part. You got him out.” 

“Listen to him…” Prewett rasped, the effort of speech making him cough. Blood gurgled in his throat, his face contorted with pain. MC clutched at him, her hand fluttering like a panicked bird near his face.

“Right, that’s it,” Montgomery said, dropping to the grass on her knees. Her wand was put away, her hands reaching for Prewett. Grim determination settled over her features and she gave MC a pointed look. “I’ve got him. I’ll take him to St Mungo’s.”

For a tense few seconds, Sebastian eyed both women, certain that MC might shove the Auror away and disappear with Prewett alone. He kept his grip tight on her sleeve just in case. If Rookwood so much as caught a sniff of her arriving at St Mungo’s with an Auror in her arms, it would be over. 

Something softened on Montgomery’s face, and she placed a careful hand on MC’s. “Clearly, you think highly of him,” she said gently. “Don’t worry. I will make sure he is cared for. Go back to the camp. It’s what he would tell you to do, isn’t it?” 

Slowly, reluctantly, MC nodded and withdrew her hands. Sebastian put his arm around her, trying not to notice the way she was staring at Prewett as though it would be the last time. 

“I should be taking you back to London in charmed chains, but I will let it go just this once. You have surprised me, Sallow,” Montgomery said, wrapping her arm around Prewett to support his head. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness, pale light from the slither of moon peeking between swiftly moving clouds highlighting the pale blonde of her hair. “The reason I have this position is because you took out my predecessor. You are the most wanted murderer in our books, and yet, here you are saving not just me, but an old rival, too. Perhaps I should be thanking you.” 

“I’m not doing this for you,” he said coldly, narrowing his eyes. At the edge of his vision, he saw MC look up at him. This was for her, just as he had promised. Anything for her, even if it meant saving Prewett’s skin. “Get him out of here.” 

“Don’t let him die, please,” MC begged. 

The vulnerability in those words cut Sebastian like cold blades. He could feel her trembling and he held her closer, noting the puzzled curiosity on Montgomery’s face as she nodded. In the blink of an eye, they vanished, the crack of the magic splitting through the blustery night. MC buried her face into his chest, the shield completely slipping from her as she sagged, a sob tearing from her throat. 

MC

It mattered not that Sebastian had draped another blanket over her as she lay in his bunk. Still she shivered. Huddled into the smallest shape she could manage on the camp bed, the blankets drawn up to her chin, MC fought the tiredness that tightened her eyes. The tears had subsided, and she had to believe that Montgomery was good on her word, that Leander was safe in St Mungo’s. Yet, if she allowed her eyes to close, all she could see was his deathly pale face, the blood on his lips, and the terrifying sound of each rattling breath that echoed from his crushed chest tortured her memory. 

Fear was a strange companion. She was definitely no stranger to it, spending many hours crouched in the dark of Azkaban and facing terrors no human should have to. Fear for yourself was something she could grasp and own, swallow down and challenge. Fear for another person ate at you like a ravenous beast, its hungry teeth devouring everything inside of you in uncontrollable tremors that left you hollow and fractured. An unfortunate side effect of becoming attached to another person, of loving them and caring about them, was to face the devastating fear of losing them.

If she had ever doubted her attachment to Leander, she no longer did. The thought of her world without him in it left her cold. Especially since it had been her word that had sent him into those tunnels in the first place. If he died, then she had sent him to his death. 

A hand touched her shoulder, Sebastian’s shadow casting over the bed as he blocked the glow from the lamp on the table. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

She could hear the worry in his voice, the plea for her to take down the wall she had slammed up around herself, but she merely shook her head and kept her face turned away. He had brought them back to the camp, immediately pouring her a fire whiskey that she had tried to push away, but he made her drink it promising it would warm her up. The drink had indeed burned all the way to her stomach, but the shivering had not stopped. 

Refusing any more of the horrid drink, she had let him tuck her into his bunk, murmuring reassurances that Leander would be okay. It still hadn’t fully sunk in how he had helped. Sebastian hated Leander, and she had given him good reason to want to hurt him, but he had done no such thing. She had shared Montgomery’s surprise, and needed to thank him for his kindness, but the words were stuck solid behind her fear. 

He had done it for her. I’ll do whatever it takes, MC. 

Her throat ached with fresh tears but she bit them back, swallowing down the softer parts of herself behind the safety of her thick walls. Not until she knew that Leander was alive and well would she allow herself to take a true, deep breath. 

Sebastian stroked her hair, the solid weight of him leaning against the side of the bunk a comfort despite the distance she had needed to put up. She felt the press of his lips at her temple and closed her eyes, a brief respite at the soft warmth, before the rustling of the tent doorway made her rigid once again. 

“Well, isn’t this cosy,” a soft, feminine voice drawled. 

If there was one thing you could say about her and Sebastian, it was how in tune they were when it came to that sense of threat. Sebastian was on his feet in one fluid motion, and she was upright, blankets thrown back and her feet hitting the floor just as fast. Once again, despite her superior power, Sebastian edged until he was slightly before her, ever the protector. 

Luella Rookwood stood in the entrance of the tent, her beautiful face decorated with smudges of dirt and splatters of blood. Her blonde curls were escaping from the pins that held it back, her mouth twisted in displeasure, her eyes spitting furious envy as she glared. 

“What do you want?” Sebastian asked carefully, his hand hovering at his wand holster.

Luella smirked, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. “Not your usual greeting for me, Sebastian,” she drawled, her gaze lingering over him. “Is that for her benefit?”

MC forgot her fear for a moment, hatred pure and cold solidifying in her gut. The way this bitch tried to claim Sebastian merely added to the utter thirst for revenge that thrummed thick and hot through her blood. Luella had hurt Leander. She was the reason he had looked like Death could come to claim him. MC didn’t even remember doing it, but her wand was already in her hand, her fingers clamped around the handle like a vice. 

“Get out,” MC hissed, barely hanging on to the threads of her control. 

Luella lifted an eyebrow in bored curiosity. “Are you threatening me, little prisoner?”

MC felt Sebastian’s touch against her lower back, a silent warning. “Nobody is threatening anyone,” he said softly, but MC heard the tell tale silky tone in his voice. It was the voice he used in the duelling pit, smooth and controlled, but behind it was a storm waiting to be unleashed. “Why are you here, Luella? It’s late.”

“And yet, Daddy’s little pet is here, tucked up all snug in your bed,” she said, moving closer, slow and deliberate like a prowling cat. “Does my father know you’re playing with his new toy?” 

“No more than he knew about us,” Sebastian said smoothly. 

The smirk that curved Luella’s mouth made MC’s blood curdle, her fingers adjusting around her wand. “What’s the matter little prisoner? You look a little tense. You did know that I used to share that bed once, hmm? Something tells me that I was merely keeping it warm, though. A convenient bit of fun until you crawled back out of Azkaban.” 

It was hard to tell if the reproachful look she gave Sebastian was genuine or not. Either way, MC felt rage blister up her spine, her limbs trembling for a completely different reason now. She felt Sebastian grip the back of her blouse, but it didn’t stop the surge of power that coursed through her veins. Her ancient magic truly did thrive on powerful emotions, and MC felt like she might actually implode from the spinning web of feelings assaulting her this evening. 

Luella’s eyes widened and she took a hesitant step back, her hand grasping for her wand. “Gods, look at her eyes,” she muttered, throwing Sebastian a bewildered glance. “What’s happening to her?” 

Sebastian’s lips twitched upwards, a look that bordered on the edge of pride lighting his eyes. “Isn’t she quite marvellous?” He said, his fingers caressing up and down her spine. “All that power, just waiting to be unleashed. It’s easy to see why your father is quite taken by her. A true rarity in the world.” 

Luella lifted her chin, her mouth settling into an entitled pout, her wand at the ready. “Father always did like his trinkets and toys, although he tires of them quickly, discarding them for something newer and prettier. Something you have in common with him, Sebastian.” 

Luella’s eyes glittered with challenge. Clearly, her ego suffered at his rejection. MC grit her teeth, sick of the fancy word play. Her magic seemed to crackle and fizz at her fingertips, the tremor visible in her wand hand as she aimed towards Luella’s stylish, black boots. The short, sharp blast of white hot magic erupted from the end of her wand, striking the floor of the tent right before Luella’s feet. The whole space lit up with the ancient magic glow, making all three of them wince. Luella yelped and jumped back, but not before the magic had scorched the lower parts of her trousers and ruined the fine leather of her boots. 

Her head jerked upwards, blonde curls bouncing as she fixed her enraged eyes on MC. “You dare to strike at me!” She hissed. 

Sebastian had his wand up and ready, his hand once again grasping the back of her shirt. MC had the growing suspicion that he clung on to her in fear that she might disappear. He seemed reluctant to leave her side, and kept a constant hand on her. Reigning in the surging power of her magic, MC sucked in a steadying breath, but kept her aim on Luella. 

“I’m going to make you squeal in pain, little prisoner,” Luella vowed, her eyes narrow slits of hate. “I’ll make you fear every mirror you come across knowing the horror your own reflection will provide once I’m through with you.” 

“Now, now, Luella, my sweet. Less of the dramatics, if you would. That is no way to speak to my guest,” Rookwood said smoothly, entering the tent behind his daughter with his usual air of confidence and flair. He smiled with all the icy charm of a venomous snake, his gaze sweeping around the tent whilst wrinkling his nose in disdain. “My word, Sallow. This tent is rather lacklustre. You ought to upgrade, dear boy. Put your wand work to good use other than for torture and death, and transfigure yourself some more luxurious furnishings.” 

Luella quietly seethed beside her father, her cheeks flushed and her fists clenched at her sides. “Look what she did to my boots,” she said, pointing down towards her feet, her words ground out through clenched teeth. 

Rookwood barely gave them a second glance before he shrugged. “Conjure yourself a new pair,” he suggested. 

“Are you joking?” Luella scoffed, her mouth tightening. “These boots came from Paris, the finest craftsmanship there is! There is no conjuring a pair such as these.” 

Rookwood sighed and pinched his thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose. “Then return to Paris for a new pair if it means that much to you. I care little,” he said, his voice thin on patience. He gave them all a withering look. “Now then, what’s all this petty squabbling about? I sent you over here to ask Sallow about the missing prisoners. Where are we on that matter, daughter dearest? May I remind you that my patience is already dangerously thin after this evening's series of events. Some good news would be most welcome now.” 

MC shuffled closer towards Sebastian and she could feel the tension in his grip on the back of her shirt. This is where they needed to play it calm and steady. MC gripped her wand with both hands and settled her features into the blank, cold stare she so favoured. 

“Your daughter barged in here and disturbed my rest,” she said, her voice cool and level. “After days hiking through the Highlands on the hunt for ancient magic deposits, I was feeling rather exhausted and retired early. I’m not sure I appreciate being awoken and threatened in such a manner.” 

Luella glared with outright hatred, her eyes wide at the sheer audacity. Sebastian dipped his head, no doubt fighting a smirk. 

“You were sleeping? So, you missed the drama concerning the Auror ambush?” Rookwood asked his questions, his cold, blue eyes assessing her carefully. 

MC tilted her chin upwards as she nodded to confirm. “Sebastian was just filling me in on tonight’s news when Luella charged in here. I’m not sure I appreciate such hostility. It’s also rather dangerous considering how charged my magic is after absorbing new deposits. It can be rather unstable and difficult to control. I’m afraid some magic unleashed itself and damaged Miss Rookwood’s footwear.” 

The lies rolled easily from MC’s tongue, spoken to appeal to Rookwood’s sheer greed over her magic as a means of distraction. It appeared to work, his eyes lighting up at the mention of her absorbing more power. “You were successful in your search, then?” 

“Indeed we were,” Sebastian said, his voice dripping with cool confidence. “And we think it should be easier to find more now. It appears the deposits could be linked to deep emotions, and we plan to continue the search. With your blessing, of course.” 

“Of course,” Rookwood said, dipping forward in a slight bow. “And you shall have it.” 

Luella folded her arms, her face screwed up in frustrated disgust. “This still doesn’t explain how my Aurors managed to escape from the prisoner tent,” she fumed. 

“That sounds rather close to an accusation, Luella,” Sebastian said, tilting his head. “Are you suggesting MC had something to do with their escape?” 

MC arranged her features into a grimace. “Why in Merlin’s name would I help any bloody Aurors? I’ve spent the last few years locked up behind bars because of those pricks, I can’t say liberating one of them is high on my list of priorities.” 

“Indeed,” Rookwood said, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his chin. “In this case there were two captured Aurors.” 

“One of them was a tall redhead by the name of Prewett,” Luella said, her face now sickeningly smug. “I remembered you mentioning this particular Auror before, Sebastian. Isn’t he the one who visited you in Azkaban, little prisoner? He escorted you out as well by all accounts. I thought a little reunion might have been particularly interesting. The fact he managed to get away whilst crippled by injuries is both puzzling and disappointing.” 

MC felt fear begin to trickle down her spine. This bitch knew too much about Leander already. “I remember him,” she said stiffly. “I can’t say I’m in a hurry to see him again, either.” 

How bitter the words tasted on her tongue when her entire being itched to travel to London and lay eyes on Leander. The need to see him alive and healed pressed with an urgency that made her want to fidget, but she held herself firm. 

“Not even to whisper secrets into his ear?” Rookwood leant forward, his gaze so piercing that MC fancied it felt like ice scraping along her bones. “The Daily Prophet deems you a public risk, and the Ministry claims they have it all under control. It’s a tricky situation. I have you here in the midst of my family where you can hear all sorts of wonderfully dark secrets, and now prisoners are disappearing, my lock ups are being raided. Tell me, sweet one, what you would think in my position?” 

MC refused to cower under his scrutiny. She had faced Dementors, she had stared into darkness that tried to clutch her within its grasp and chase all reason from her head. This was just a far reaching, greedy man and she was sick of all the game playing. She could handle this. She felt her spine stiffen, her face became hard and cold, her eyes glittering chips of stone to equal his. She had become one with her wall of defence, all that was soft and vulnerable so deeply hidden by this cold fury she presented that it could have been non-existent. 

“I suppose that all depends on what it is you truly want, Rookwood,” she said carefully, tilting her head as though pondering his question. “I mean, if it bothers you so much, I could always just leave. Without me, there is no power, the problem goes away. I shall continue to research and grow my understanding of what I am capable of regardless of your involvement. You have ambitions. I get that. It seems to me that you need me more than I need you, though. Choose what you wish to believe, but don’t play games with me, and don’t send your daughter into my private space so she can throw accusations and threats around. Next time, I won’t be so polite, and perhaps it will be more than a pair of scorched boots for her trouble.” 

Luella gaped, incredulous. “Are you hearing this, father? You see how she threatens me to our very faces?” 

Rookwood considered MC carefully, his eyes subtly narrowing as he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. When his gaze flicked towards Sebastian, a slight frown creased his brow. “You truly are a cold little thing, aren’t you? And yet, Sallow appears unaffected by you. He stands as if he would protect you, unflinching. What hold do you have over him, hmm? You killed his kin in cold blood, and yet he remains loyal to you.” 

MC shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, whilst her heart thudded with a frenzied rhythm beneath her ribs. “He has the same choice as you, Rookwood. He can stay, or he can leave. Either way, it makes no difference to me, or my magic. But, he has been with me since the beginning. He understands. He also knows that I could kill him at any moment, I could kill anyone. Ashwinder, Auror, or otherwise. I’ve been crossed by all of you and the only person I fully trust is myself.” 

It took everything she had to stop her hands from shaking, from breathing in rapid gasps, as she pondered the truth of that statement. 

“I’ve seen what she can do, Rookwood,” Sebastian said, following the thread she had begun to weave with his habitual confidence. “You’ve seen it, too. Mere glimpses perhaps, but you know as well as I that MC is dangerous. The Ministry knows it just as well, and I don’t doubt that they will have eyes on her. They would be fools not to. I also believe that MC hasn’t reached her full potential yet, there has to be more. Are you willing to suffocate that over a pair of missing Aurors that mean little to this cause? They were nothing more than toys for your Ashwinders to break, and yet you risked having them here in camp where they could lay eyes on MC. What if they did hear she was present? They now have that information to take back to the Auror Office. You risk them coming to claim her back under the ruse of arrest.” 

Rookwood threw a disgusted glare towards Luella, who flinched back in surprise. “The boy has a point,” he snarled. 

“You would take their side over your own daughter?” She cried, spluttering in disbelief. “Are you seriously going to believe all this graphorn shit they are speaking?”

MC could have hugged Sebastian right then for his clever manipulation of words. He had always been able to squirm his way out of trouble, deflecting attention by highlighting points that pressed upon a person’s weaknesses. He was dangerous when it came to these types of games, and she was fully aware of how she was equally liable to fall for it. His tenacity had always been a trait that she had admired, though. 

Rookwood’s mouth was a white line, his usual theatrical presence squashed under a temper that flickered cold fire in his gaze. “These two bring me news of success in the form of discovered deposits. You bring me chaos and two problems in the form of escaped prisoners who now have potential intelligence on us. You who should know better!” 

Luella’s cheeks flushed scarlet, her eyes darting towards MC, who couldn’t resist a cold, satisfied smirk in return. The indignation on her face was far too satisfying for words, so instead, MC reached out a hand and caught hold of Sebastian’s, linking their fingers in a bold statement of unity. That’s right, bitch. He is mine. 

“Sebastian and I intended to return to the search for more deposits at first light. Is that going to be a problem?” MC asked, her tone exceptionally calm and innocent. 

Rookwood turned his granite expression her way, his eyes scanning them both in a way that made her palms itch. “Do what you must. Absorb all deposits you come across,” he nodded. He turned and grasped Luella by the elbow. “As for you, daughter of mine. We have matters to discuss in private.” 

With a gentleman’s bow and a tip of his top hat, Rookwood exited the tent with a furious Luella in tow, the last look she threw back towards MC livid with a promise that this wasn’t over. 

MC stood completely still, her fingers gripping Sebastian’s hand as the sound of departing footsteps receded from the tent. The opening fell closed, flapping gently in the night breeze that came down off the surrounding high peaks. She could hear her own restrained breathing, the erratic pulse in her ears from the effort of maintaining such tight control. It had been too easy. Rookwood had rolled over without any push back at all, and it left her uneasy. 

Sebastian let out a long sigh as though he, too, felt the tension. He pushed his fingers through his mop of hair and brought their clasped hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “You are brilliant,” he said quietly. She lifted her gaze to him, the strength of her barriers wobbling. “Scary, but brilliant.” 

One look at those chocolate coloured eyes and the defences fell. She sagged, shaking from the adrenaline and stunned at her own audacity. Of course, he caught her. She was held against his chest as he wrapped strong arms around her, her own hands clutching at his jacket in an effort to ground herself. 

“I’ve got a really horrible feeling about this, Seb,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, remembering the flash of furious envy in Luella’s eyes when she noticed the deliberate way MC had held Sebastian’s hand. In trying to show a front of strength, she had allowed her own jealousy to get the better of her, and she had shown her hand in more ways than one. 

“You weren’t wrong, MC. You do hold all the power, and that is just what Rookwood wants,” Sebastian said, stroking soothing hands down her back. “It will be alright. You’ll see.” 

“We should just cut our losses and kill him now,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “We could do it easily. Kill him, take what we can, and run, before anyone else has to get hurt.” 

“If you think it’s easy to get access to his collections, think again. They are well hidden and guarded. Killing him now will cut us off to all the artefacts and knowledge he has stored, all the items that belonged to Isadora that he stole. I know how much you want those,” Sebastian said, cupping her face. “Not only that, what’s to stop the Ministry arresting you for his murder again? They can claim you are unstable, you broke the terms of your probation, and they could throw you back into Azkaban in order to keep you under control. I am not going to risk that happening again, MC.” 

“How many more people have to get hurt, or even die because of this cursed magic festering in my veins,” she hissed, clenching her hands in frustration as angry tears burned under her lids. “Why did it have to be me? Why did I have to be given this power? I don’t want it, Sebastian. I hate it!” 

“Hey, hey, easy now,” he soothed, making her look up at him, his thumbs easing across her cheeks. “Take a breath. You’ve got this, MC. Your power is a gift, and I don’t know anyone else who could handle it as beautifully as you do. You amaze me with your strength, your ability to keep that gorgeous head up despite everything that gets thrown at you.” 

She stared at him, her eyes softening slightly. “You and that smooth talking mouth of yours, Sallow,” she huffed. 

A smile flashed on his lips, but a shadow of concern drifted into his eyes just as quickly. “This defeatist talk. Is it because of Prewett and what happened this evening?” 

MC dipped her gaze to his neck, her fingers toying at the open collar of his black shirt as she swallowed past the ache in her throat. “He could have died. Seeing him like that…” She paused, horror clamping her in a vice. She closed her eyes and took a breath. “It was my fault. He wouldn’t have been in those tunnels if I hadn’t told him about them. You were right. It was me. I sent word to him, and now he is in St Mungo’s fighting for his life. All because of me.” 

A muscle ticked in Sebastian’s jaw. “How did you tell him?” 

Warmth crept across her cheeks, but she didn’t flinch or hide from him. “We have a secret method of communication. Please, don’t ask me to explain. The less you know about it, the better. Just in case this all goes to shit.” 

“You know trust needs to work both ways,” he said quietly, his eyes guarded. “You said you wanted to trust me, but I need to be able to trust you, too.” 

She nodded. “You’re right, of course,” she said. “Any other information you share with me, I will tell you if I intend to share it with Leander. Like you said, we are all on the same side here.” 

Sebastian held on to his wariness, but he was gentle as he held her chin and bent his head to hers. “It will be a cold day in hell before I trust an Auror, but I hear you. Thank you for telling me the truth.” 

His lips were warm and soft, and MC welcomed the feel of his kiss, drawing a little comfort from the intimacy. Each kiss, each caress of his hands eased the tightness in her tense muscles, added a seal to the spoken bond of trust they needed to enforce between them. Her blood fired with a different kind of magic that came from the unexplainable pull he had on her, their bodies seeming to have an understanding far beyond their comprehension. 

Once again, she found herself curled against him, his arms holding her close as they drowsed on the edge of sleep. His hands roamed up and down her back, shaping her hips and sliding contentedly along her thigh. The occasional soft brush of lips against her face, ear and neck sent shivers across her flesh. As intimate and as comforting this shared closeness felt, MC could not shake that uneasy niggle that something wasn’t quite right. 

The hour was very late when she whispered in his ear that she needed to excuse herself for a moment. He mumbled sleepily, a soft smile lingering on his lips after she pressed a long kiss there before slipping from the warmth of his bed. The air was cold, goosebumps prickling her skin as she pulled on her boots and selected a warm robe from her chest. Pausing at the tent entrance, she glanced back towards the bed, soaking in the image of Sebastian asleep, his hair tumbled against the pillow. 

“Please, trust me,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.” 

Quietly slipping out into the night, her breath fogged before her face as she hurried away from the tent, not wanting the snap of her Disapparating to wake him. The stars shone above her head, innocent observers to the dark and twisted lives that played out below. Under the cover of some nearby trees, MC felt a flutter of anticipation behind her ribs, bracing herself for the long distance she needed to propel herself across. Closing her eyes, she pictured the city of London, her focus centred on the aged cobbled street of Diagon Alley. 

In the shadow of the pitched tents in camp, a figure stood very still, eyes watching as the robed figure of MC left the tent and hurried into the trees. After the crack of her magic made her vanish, a slow grin spread across a knowing mouth, and the figure turned to go and make their report. 

Leander 

Arriving at St Mungo’s and being tended by Healers became a patchwork of hazy memories that came to Leander in jumbled flashes. The pain in his chest cancelled a lot of lucid moments out, the bitter taste of blood thick in his mouth. Words of reassurance had been spoken into his ear, the gentle hands of Auror Montgomery touching to his brow in hesitant comfort before the Healers had urged her to leave him to rest. In the silence of his designated hospital room, the tangled web of his memories rushed in, and his slowly healing chest began to quicken as he remembered MC being there, the tears on her cheeks. Perhaps most shocking of all, was Sallow. He had helped her. He had helped him. 

The healing potions and spells had been strong, knocking him out into a deep, restful sleep. His ribs had begun to knit together, the cracks and breaks becoming smooth bone as though they had never been ruined. His lungs repaired, making his breaths return to their gentle rhythm once more. His head had been cleaned, his hair neatly combed, the wound at the back soon to be a distant, painful memory. Even his hospital issued robe was free of any stain, a spotless, crisp white, edged in blue. The beauty of magic being able to erase all physical traces. The mental struggle was another matter entirely.

Waking from his sleep, Leander blinked slowly against the low light of a bedside lantern, the room still and quiet. There was a lingering ache in his chest, but he could breathe freely, rolling his head against the plush pillow and then stilling as he realised the warm pressure of a hand clasped with his. Glancing down, a swift breath left his lips in surprise at the sight of MC.

Seated in a hard hospital chair, her head was laying against his bed sheets, her dark hair pooled against the starched white, her hand wrapped around his as she slept. There were dark smudges under her closed eyes, but her features were relaxed, lips slightly parted. There was nobody else in the room, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long she had been there, and if anyone had seen the familiar way she lay with him. It was a risk to be caught with her like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand from her grip. Instead, he kept still, watching her rest as he had done so many nights when she had stayed with him, his thumb gently stroking against her warm skin. 

He must have dozed off again, because the next thing he knew, he felt the press of a kiss to his forehead. Blinking his eyes open, he stared up into flawless, spring sky blue, a smile lingering on MC’s face as she stared down at him. 

“Ah, so you’ve decided to join the land of the living after all,” MC said softly, she gave his hand a squeeze, a shadow flickering in her gaze. “You scared me, Lee. Don’t you dare do that again, you hear? I forbid it.” 

Amusement twitched at his mouth. “And miss waking up to this beautiful smile? I shall have to think about it.” 

Her lips parted and she huffed a short laugh. “Leander Prewett, when did you become such a smooth talker?” 

“I’m not entirely sure,” he grinned. “It could be all the potions and medicine I’ve swallowed giving me superpowers.” 

“All the pretty nurses had better watch out, then,” she smiled, moving back to sit on the edge of the bed, although she kept hold of his hand. He could feel the warmth of it spreading up his arm, but reminded himself not to read too much into it. 

“You are taking a risk being here with me,” he said, his voice a little raspy still. “Especially after that ridiculous report in the Daily Prophet. If you are seen with me it could jeopardise you in the camp.” 

Her face darkened and she looked down at their joined hands. “It might be a bit late for that. I think I have fucked up anyway. I’ve got a bad feeling, Lee. Something just feels off, and I don’t like it.” 

“What do you mean? Tell me,” he urged, frowning slightly as he tried to sit up a bit more. She put her hand against his shoulder and pressed him back against the pillows with a firm look. 

“Just remember you are here to heal and rest,” she said, holding him there until he allowed himself to relax. Slipping her hand back into her lap, she glanced towards the door and leant closer to murmur quietly. “Rookwood is rolling over too easily. I don’t like how he just accepts everything that I say with a smile. He fucked me over once before, there is no reason for him to not try it again. I know he already has an idea to drain the ancient magic from me, but I can’t get rid of this nagging that there is something else.” 

Leander’s frown deepened and he pushed back against the fog lingering at the edges of his memories, rubbing his face as he tried to remember his conversation with Andrew Larson before the raid on the tunnels. 

“I mentioned Merlin and Morgana to Andrew, and he did find a few documents about them, although there was only a very brief mention of ancient magic,” he said. He gave her a curious look. “He did say something about Rackham, though. He is one of the Keepers below Hogwarts, isn’t he?” 

MC nodded. “Yes, he was a vessel of ancient magic, too. It was his portrait that I spoke to the most about it during my time at Hogwarts. He gave me the impression that he led the other three, but despite the words of wisdom he offered me, I always felt as though he was holding back. All three of them did, to be honest.” 

“Andrew tells me that there is a lot more to be discovered when it comes to Rackham, that there are files in the Department of Mysteries about him and his visions. He was a Seer, and whatever he relayed to the Ministry is kept under strict lock and key. This isn't an unusual practice. Predictions about the future can be dangerous if in the wrong hands.” 

“What if the visions are about a particular person? Do they not have the right to view these predictions?” MC asked, her chin tilting upwards. “Do you think there are predictions about me in there?” 

“I honestly have no idea,” he said, shaking his head. “I suppose it is possible considering the ability you both share. I don't have access to the Department of Mysteries and neither does Andrew up to a point. We have spoken before about how secretive they are.” 

MC looked deep in thought, her teeth worrying at her lower lip for a moment as she stared blankly across the room. “Maybe it is time that I paid a visit to Professor Rackham again,” she said, her voice tinged with reluctance. She gave him a dark, resigned look. “It would mean returning to Hogwarts and the chamber beneath. I can’t say the idea is all that appealing, but if I explain the situation, perhaps I can get Rackham to talk.” 

“I can speak to the Head of the Auror Office and set things in motion with Headmaster Black,” Leander offered, that eager feeling washing through him at the thought of getting back to work. “I can go to Hogwarts with you, if you wish. You don’t have to go alone.” 

Her eyes seemed full of sadness as she looked at him, her other hand shifting to close over both of their clasped ones. “You really are too good for this world, Lee. Look at you offering to follow me into even more trouble when you’re lying here in this hospital bed. You don’t deserve such darkness, especially from me,” she said, blinking quickly as she dropped her gaze. 

“Hey, I didn’t take the role of an Auror expecting rainbows and unicorns, MC. Getting hurt is a risk, but it’s part of the territory. It’s why they reserve beds for us here. Don’t take the responsibility of this onto your own shoulders. I won’t let you,” he insisted. 

She gave a nod, but avoided his gaze, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Do it. Set up a visit to Hogwarts, and as soon as possible. I don’t want to give Rookwood too much time with his plotting. Sebastian and I are going to keep away from the camp for a few days under the ruse of seeking out more deposits for me to absorb.” 

“A ruse?” He frowned. “What will you really be doing?” 

MC leaned even closer, her eyes darting towards the door again. “I want to revisit Isadora’s old haunts, maybe there was something I missed the first time around,” she whispered. “I also want to track down more information about my mother. If she truly still lives, I want to find her. Ominis is helping me with that. His aunt, my mother’s sister, left him her house in Norfolk, and he has given me permission to go there and read some old family journals that may help. Rookwood must not know about my connection to the Gaunts. I’d rather Marvolo Gaunt doesn’t find out, either.” 

“Okay. Just be careful,” he nodded, holding her hand a little bit tighter. His other hand drifted up to brush back strands of her hair, his fingertips grazing against the shell of her ear. “And stay in touch via the parchment. I cannot help but worry about you.” 

“Only if you do the same,” she said, meeting his gaze. 

He couldn’t stop the pleased smile curving his mouth. “You worry about me?” 

“That is not what I said, Prewett,” she said, sitting up primly, but warmth lingered in her eyes. 

Leander would have loved to say more, to tease more smiles to her mouth, but the door to his room opened. MC jolted and slid her hand from his, rising quickly to her feet as she turned to face the door. The loss of her warmth was regrettable, but he too had stiffened in the bed as Auror Montgomery entered, pausing in surprise to see MC standing there. Leander felt his cheeks and neck heat up, adjusting his bed sheet nervously. 

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Montgomery said, her own cheeks reddening. “I didn’t expect you to have visitors already at this hour.” 

Her gaze darted curiously between MC and himself, and he cleared his throat, his jumbled thoughts grasping for something to say, but MC seemed to have things under control. She stepped towards Montgomery. 

“I should be the one to apologise,” she said smoothly. “I took a risk coming here tonight, but I needed to make sure that Lea…erm, Auror Prewett was well. I thought a visit during the day would raise too many questions.” 

Montgomery arched a brow. “And your visit now doesn’t warrant a few curious questions?” 

MC stiffened. “Considering I saved your neck tonight, any questions you may think you have will surely be kept behind closed lips. Lives are at risk, Auror Montgomery, including your own now that the Ashwinders know your face.” 

Leander bit his lip as the two women stared each other down. He had become so accustomed to the rare warmth that MC allowed him to see, that to witness the colder, harder side of her still managed to make him shiver. Perhaps more surprising, was the way Montgomery kept her head up, and rather than cower under what was surely a hard glare in MC’s eyes, she merely nodded. 

“I must thank you for your assistance. You did indeed save our lives tonight, both you and Mr Sallow have my sincere thanks,” Montgomery said. “I did not expect it from Sallow. You will forgive my surprise that he leant a hand.” 

“All you have heard about Sebastian is what the Aurors want you to hear,” MC said. “I am fortunate to know him better than that. Things aren’t always what they appear to be, Montgomery. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to Scotland before I am missed.” 

When MC turned to him, Leander saw the hardened expression on her face, but for him, she allowed a softness to darken her eyes. “Rest up now, Prewett,” she said. “I will be in touch.” 

Leander nodded, his eyes doing the talking, and then she was gone, walking swiftly out of the door into the corridor beyond. Montgomery watched her go before closing the door softly, her gaze turning to him with burning curiosity. 

“Before you say anything, MC is right. The less you know about her, the safer you will be,” he said quickly, holding up a hand. 

Montgomery moved closer towards the bed, her hands smoothing the front of her skirts. “The last thing I would ever wish to do is cause you any trouble, Prewett,” she said carefully, but her eyes were still lit with that burning curiosity. “But, anyone who sees the two of you together can clearly see that there is something between you. You did not see what I did whilst you were badly hurt. This is much more than an Auror and his informant. That girl cares for you, and deeply. Only a fool would not see it.” 

“I have known her for a very long time,” he said, reaching up to fiddle with the front of the hospital gown. “We were friends as children, school friends. That was partly the reason Harrington assigned me to her case in the first place, thinking that our previous bond would be beneficial in coaxing her to cooperate.” 

Montgomery frowned slightly as she sat in the chair that MC had used, her back perfectly straight, hands clasped in her lap. “Well, I must say it seems to have worked wonderfully well. She seems rather taken with you. It is puzzling, though. From reading the case files, I thought that she was romantically involved with Sallow. He was awfully touchy with her. You could almost say possessive. I am still in shock how he helped us, he is not what I expected at all.” 

Leander closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over him. “What can I say? This is a complicated case.” 

Never had a statement been more appropriate. Montgomery eyed him, lifting a hand as though to place it on his forearm, and then thought better of it. She pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket instead and tucked it into his hand. 

“I can see you are tired, but the reason I came is to give you this,” she said, her eyes lighting up with that fire and spirit he had come to recognise. His fingers curled around the smooth parchment. “I swiped it from the office just now and came straight here. The other Aurors were more successful in the tunnels, they have seized many crates of valuable items that are being assessed as we speak. There was also a ledger full of names and dates, but this…this is a map of other locations situated around the British Isles. These could be more storage locations, or dens, perhaps.” 

Leander sat up straighter and opened the folded parchment, his tiredness forgotten. “This is huge, Montgomery. Why did you bring it to me? Surely Harrington and the others will be already planning to investigate these locations.” 

She smiled, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “They would if they knew about it. I happened to be having a poke around the books they had seized, and this fell out of one. When I saw it was a map, my curiosity got the better of me, and then I knew it would be of importance when I saw the symbol at the top.” 

She reached forward to point at the little swirling icon near the top, and it was only then that Leander noted the date in the top corner. He met Montgomery’s amber eyes, his own curiosity firing into life. “That is the symbol for ancient magic,” he whispered. “How did you know that?” 

Montgomery blushed furiously and twisted her hands in her lap. “Well, you see, I was a second year when MC came to Hogwarts. When the truth about her spread around the school, I was in awe of her, and the magic that she could wield. I have been reading anything that I could get my hands on about ancient magic, which to be honest is very little. She fascinates me. I couldn’t believe my luck when I landed a position on this case, and to be partnered with you of all Aurors. You have a connection to the woman herself!” 

Leander stared at Montgomery, his lips parted. “You…you make her seem like a…a goddess, or a super human entity,” he stuttered. 

“Well, isn’t she?” Montgomery shrugged. “She has power beyond anything the rest of us can understand, she defeated a goblin rebellion and fought against the most powerful dark wizard of our time, or at least so we thought. Now, she has come out of Azkaban seemingly unfazed, and walks amongst the most dangerous wizards in the country. To come face to face with her was extraordinary, especially when it became apparent that she was saving us.” 

Leander swallowed and leant back against his pillows. To him, she had always been MC, the girl he couldn’t stop staring at over the plants in Herbology. So caught up in how enamoured he was of her, he hadn’t given much thought to her having an elevated status in the eyes of others. He felt reasonably confident that he knew the girl behind the mystical powers, behind the articles written about her. The pedestal he had placed her upon varied significantly from the one Montgomery clearly cherished. 

He turned his gaze to Montgomery, remembering the time she had almost begged to accompany him on his meeting with MC, the sparkle of curiosity that constantly lingered in her gaze. A chill swept down his spine as he came to the realisation that others could see the same in MC, hero worshipping her in ways that meant they would follow wherever she led. With all that ancient magic at her fingertips, she could summon an army and cause mass destruction if she chose the dark path. 

For the first time he seriously considered how dangerous MC actually was, and how deeply he had involved himself in assisting her. He swallowed thickly again, his throat unbearably dry. 

“Did you still hold this fascination with her when she was imprisoned for murder?” He asked. 

Montgomery grimaced and shook her head. “I was devastated. She went from saving the world, to taking lives. It fuelled my motivation to become an Auror, though. As I progressed through my training, I came to wonder if perhaps things were not so black and white. Seeing your first dead body raises questions one would rather not face,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Tonight merely confirmed it for me. The way she is with you, saving you like that, and she even said it herself just now. Things are not always what they seem, there are shades of grey blended in the blacks and the whites of the world, and underneath all that power, is she not a human like the rest of us. I believe she is.” 

“What are you saying?” He asked carefully. 

She nodded down at the parchment map in his hands. “That map means something. I couldn’t fully understand it beyond recognising that ancient magic symbol. Some of the locations are familiar, of course, but I am certain this is far more valuable in the hands of MC than in the hands of the Auror Office.” 

“But, that’s withholding evidence, Montgomery,” he chided gently, the rule breaking chaffing a little despite his own little discretions. “Is that really how you want to start your career?” 

Her face settled into one of determination, her eyes lit with it. “I believe in seeking out the truth, and gaining justice for those who deserve it. You strike me as being of like mind, Auror Prewett, and I don’t believe for one moment that you believe MC to be the villain the world wants to paint her as. I would even go so far as to say that you would do anything for her, even break a few rules for her, rules such as not becoming emotionally involved with a suspect.” 

Her eyebrows lifted in a knowing smirk, and Leander felt a fierce flush heat his cheeks. 

“I want to help you,” she said firmly, her hands gripped tightly in her lap. “Taking the map was my first step into dangerous territory, I am fully aware of it, but I think this will be worth it. MC is one for the history books, and I want to be a part of it. Let me help you, Auror Prewett. Let me help her.” 

Leander was astounded, and he sat there staring at his new partner with fresh eyes. She was right about this being dangerous territory, and another person in the know merely added more risk, but it would be mighty lovely to have someone on his side in the office other than Andrew. Perhaps he should doubt her intentions, maybe this could be a trap to catch him out, but the way she stared at him, she appeared resolute and fully aware of what she was saying to him. He glanced down at the map, noting the locations, one of which was Hogwarts School. What did it mean? 

Montgomery was already in it up to her neck stealing this map, and she had seen too much already between him and MC. It was a cold thought, but if the circumstances required it, Montgomery could be silenced. It made him quiver in horror just to think of it, but he knew MC wouldn’t hesitate should this prove to be a trap, neither would Sallow. 

“You know the risks this would present, and not just to you, but those you are close to as well,” he said slowly, his gaze serious. 

She nodded. “Anything worth fighting for always comes with risk.” 

“And you think MC is worth fighting for?” 

“I really hope so, Auror Prewett,” she said, her eyes shining with her hope. “The potential she has…the good she could do. Is that a yes? You’ll let me help you?” 

Leander sighed and smoothed his hand over the map before nodding. “Yes, you can help me,” he replied. Montgomery uttered an excited squeal and clapped her hands together. He bit back a smile. “You may as well start by dropping the formality. Call me Leander.” 

Her smile lit up her face. “And you may call me Ivy.” 

Sebastian 

Waking up to find MC missing had tightened the ball of lead that had settled in his stomach ever since Rookwood had left the tent. Both Luella and her father were dangerous people, and MC had boldly thrown down the gauntlet in front of them. He hadn’t argued when she had voiced her concerns that something felt off, but reassuring her seemed the best option. Inside, he was shitting a brick. 

Launching himself out of his bunk, he pulled on his boots, the panic like vicious claws as he double checked that his wand was in his holster. He had to find her.

Where had she gone? The fear that Rookwood had taken her hovered, but she could fight him off fairly well, and she wouldn’t have gone quietly, either. The other option presented a different kind of fear, the fear of what it meant for their relationship if she had run off to London to find Prewett. She said she had chosen him, that she would have to let the Auror go, but the way she had crumbled at the sight of Prewett bloodied up and dying fed into his flames of envy and fear. Not only did he fear losing her, but she could end up blowing the entire cover story if caught being soft for an Auror.

Throwing on his jacket and running a quick hand through his jumble of hair, he strode out of the tent, greeted with the cold air of pre-dawn. A strip of gold and pink lit the horizon, the nearby trees a dark shadow crouched at the base of the nearby peaks. His lungs burned as he breathed in the chill, his breath out fogging before his face as he glanced around camp. At this hour, it was quiet, the fires burning low. A distant bird gave an early call at the impending rise of the sun, the last few stars still clinging to the sky. 

He missed Rosier, a second pair of eyes would have been rather handy about now as he stalked through the camp, his gaze darting into every corner. His stomach rumbled in protest, but breakfast would have to wait. He needed to lay eyes on MC before anything else took priority. Footsteps sounded behind him, boots on packed dirt, and he turned, glancing over his shoulder. He paused as Luella gave him a sultry smirk, her hair neatly pinned back from her face now. 

“Morning, handsome,” she purred, stepping closer towards him. “You’re up early. What’s the matter? I’m surprised your little bed warmer didn’t keep you tucked up under your blankets. Or, maybe…just maybe, she isn’t there?” 

‘Where is she?” His eyes narrowed, his fingers flexing against the cold, mountain air. 

Luella chuckled, one hand on her hip. “She is a piece of work, your little prisoner, isn’t she? So hard, so cold, so uptight. How is cuddling up to her better than what we had? I was never that cold with you, sweetie. We were all about fire and fun.” 

“Enough with the games, Luella,” he said, his voice flat and bored. His stomach twisted, waiting for the trap to spring. She was far too cocky not to know anything. “Clearly, you have a point to make, so make it. Where is MC?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she shrugged, her smile borderline devious. She twirled her wand playfully. “Although, if I were to put a few galleons on it, I would wager she is in the company of Aurors right now. I’m right, aren’t I? You think I'm a fool, Sebastian, and you know how I hate to be made a fool of, don’t you?” 

“I don’t think you’re a fool at all, Luella,” he said, keeping his face cool and calm. He even dared to smirk a little. “As for the Aurors, I couldn’t confirm or deny such a claim as I have no idea, either. If she is with them, then she has played me, too.” 

Her smile widened, her head tilting as she studied him. “Interesting. Well, I guess we shall find out.” 

He frowned. “Oh? How’s that?” 

“Father wishes to see you,” she said, her smile disappearing. “He has a little surprise for you.” 

Sebastian stilled, his smirk fading as he realised he was unlikely to enjoy this little surprise. Luella came closer, standing before him, her eyes glittering with something that made his spine freeze. She held out her hand to him. “Shall we?” 

He felt sick. Everything inside of him screamed to run in the opposite direction, but he couldn’t do that. There was too much at stake here. Feigning a confidence he didn’t feel, he smiled as he slipped his hand into Luella’s. She Disapparated instantly, dropping them into the centre of a freezing ruin, stone walls crumbling against a backdrop of wild Scottish landscape. 

“Ah, at last! Here he is,” Rookwood announced, holding out his arms in a gesture of welcome, his smile arrogant and cold. “Welcome, dear boy, welcome. We have been waiting for you.” 

A muffled cry came from the side and he turned his head, his stomach dropping so violently that he actually doubled over clutching at it. “No,” he gasped, the word a strangled sound that did nothing to convey the sheer horror and fear that seized him. 

Rookwood laughed, his gaze turned to a sky breaking with the dawn of a new day. Luella gripped Sebastian’s arm, her breath against his cheek mingling with the frigid cold breeze that swept through the ancient castle walls. “I warned you, sweetheart,” she murmured. “I warned you this would happen, but you went and fucked me around anyway. Nobody makes a fool out of me, Sebastian. Nobody.” 

The horror of this situation sunk wicked, cold claws into him, rendering him speechless, and all the while he could hear this screaming terror spiralling through his head. It was like he was 16 years old again, old bones at his feet, and everything he ever loved was about to be ripped from his grasp. 

MC 

Walking the clean corridors of St Mungo’s hospital, you could glean the sense of safety that came from good people doing all that they could to assist others. The atmosphere was one of warmth, protection, Healers and nurses moving about the building offering gentle smiles as they passed. If they knew who she was, she didn’t feel any sense of hostility despite the rumpled, dark nature of her clothing, or the untidy locks of her hair that fell loose about her shoulders. 

Exhaustion pulled at her, dragging her downwards towards a haze of fog, and she longed to just curl up and vanish into it. That persistent sense that something loomed clung to her, something dark and dangerous just waiting to jump out and destroy everything. Not even the relief of seeing Leander sitting up in bed could dispel it. MC hugged her arms around herself and walked slowly towards the hospital foyer where she could Apparate, finding herself filled with a longing to be held by someone who would tell her that everything would be alright. 

The story of her life. She had always held a deep and profound longing for that. 

Sebastian waited for her back at camp, no doubt still asleep, his smart mouth softly parted, his pretty hair wild against the pillow. He would hold her. He would hold her for as long and as hard as she wished. She just had to say the word. 

Not for the first time, she heard softened footfalls in the corridor behind her, glancing back to just catch the glimpse of a robe swirling out of sight around a corner. She hesitated, a frown creasing her brow. The corridor remained silent, the lamps glowing to provide a low light at this hour. Her sense of impending doom seemed to be making her paranoid, for she felt certain that this robed figure was following her. 

Continuing on her way, MC glanced out of a window, the sky beginning to lighten with the first promise of dawn. Quickening her steps, she felt eager to get back to Sebastian. They needed to gather their things and leave, setting out to revisit Isadora’s old hideaways. MC had the urge to walk where she had once trod, soak up the ambience of those old places in the hopes of bridging some connection. 

As she entered the foyer, soft footsteps made her turn again, and this time she caught sight of a slender figure in a dark grey robe, the hood raised to cast shadow over the face of whoever it was. They appeared to be female, slender hands tugging the hood lower as they dipped their head. 

MC frowned, her hands clenching. “Are you following me?” 

The robed girl paused, her back to MC, her head turning slightly as though they might meet her gaze. But, the sharp crack of magic filled the space instead, the robed figure becoming a twisted swirl of black as they Disapparated. 

MC flinched, swearing under her breath. That impending sense of doom seemed to sharpen, and her chest tightened. The urge to get to Sebastian swelled and she pictured the inside of his tent back at camp, focusing all of her magic into getting her there. She desperately needed to see his face.

Sebastian 

If he closed his eyes hard enough, the memory played out as clear as though he was right back there in the moment. He could feel the gentle dip and sway of the little boat, he could see the way the starlit sky reflected off the surface of the inky black waters of the lake. In the distance, Hogwarts stood proud and strong, the windows lit with the warm glow of welcome. His little freckled hand gripped the side of the boat, the other wrapped tightly around that of his twin. Inside, his stomach was a riot of nerves as he looked up at the huge castle. His heart squeezed at the memory of his mother’s embrace, her tear filled eyes as she bid him farewell. He wanted to make her proud. He would show her. He would prove that he could be as brilliantly clever as she was. 

Daunted at the prospect now as he faced where he would live for the foreseeable future, he maintained his brave face, squeezing Anne’s hand and pretending that it was she he was comforting and not the other way around. 

“Don’t worry, Sebby,” Anne whispered. “We have each other. Always.” 

When he opened his eyes, it was no longer night, and the sky bled with a crimson sunrise. A cold wind gusted against him, ruffling his hair as he choked and spat dirt from his lips. The pain crashed against him like a wave, warping his vision as he twitched and bit back his screams. Fighting it with everything he had, he thrashed on the ground in the centre of the ruin, blinking furiously until he could see her. All the time he could see her, it would be alright. 

Anne was on her knees, her mouth gagged and her hands bound at her back. Tears streamed down her sunken cheeks as she watched him. Powerless, weak, trapped. His twin, his other half, the stronger beat of his heart. Kneeling in the dirt with a wand aimed at her head. All the time he took the pain, that wand remained silent. 

“Crucio!” 

His back arched from the ground, the scream that left his throat left him raw, and tears bled from his eyes. How many times had he inflicted this pain on others? Too many to count. It was so very different to be on the other end of it, but he would take it, he would take everything they had to give to keep their attention off Anne. 

His skin felt like it was peeling back away from his flesh, his very bones screamed in agony, wildfire spreading and pulsing until he had no control over anything. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Rookwood called out, delight ringing in his tone as though this was some kind of party game. 

Sebastian could not stop shaking, his teeth chattering madly as his eyes rolled trying to focus. He could taste blood in his mouth. He had bitten his own tongue. 

A booted foot pressed against the side of his face, pulling an agonised sound from him at being touched. His skin protested savagely at the contact. 

“You know better than anyone how much I detest a traitor, Sallow,” Rookwood purred, bending down to look at him, lip curled in disgust. “Think of this as a little warning, if you would.” 

The boot lifted and Sebastian writhed, panting and spitting the blood from his mouth. He glared up at Rookwood with all the will he could muster. 

“My, my, you are a stubborn bastard,” Rookwood chuckled, stroking his chin. “Bring the twin.” 

Sebastian grunted in his effort to get up, falling back into the dirt as Anne was dragged across the ground towards him. She was weeping profusely, fighting her bonds as she was thrown down beside him. Sebastian reached for her with arms shaking so badly he thought he would miss, but his fingers grasped her shawl and he dragged her closer. She moaned, the muffled sound of his name coming from behind her gag. 

“Anne,” he managed to gasp, holding her to him. With no hands free to return his embrace, Anne pressed her head to his chest, nuzzling against him like a tiny kitten. 

“How touching,” Rookwood crooned. “Sibling love. The things we do for our loved ones, hmm? You can imagine my surprise when I sent for your sister to come and pay us a visit. I do love it when I come across an old acquaintance. It certainly shed some light over some things I have been pondering about.” 

He chuckled again and Anne twisted to glare up at him, practically growling with defiance. Rookwood bent to grasp her chin, his wicked grin so gleeful and cold. “Look at you, precious girl, still fighting against the gift I gave you all those years ago. You and your brother have remarkable spirit. Tough, little Scots, brave until the very end, I don’t doubt.” 

Anne ripped herself from his grip, falling back against the ground with a thump. Sebastian dragged her into him again, shuddering violently, but determined to hang on to her. 

“All we need now is my ancient magic wielder, and then the party will be complete,” Rookwood smirked, glancing around the ruin with smug arrogance. “It’s time for us all to have a little chat.” 

Dread coursed through Sebastian, his fingers like claws as he clutched a shivering Anne to his chest. They were waiting for MC. He was a quivering wreck on the ground, barely able to breathe let alone square up to anyone, and both of his girls were in danger. His worst nightmares had become twisted reality. 

He looked down at Anne, her big brown eyes looking back at him, eyes so like his own. All the bitterness and fury evaporated, and all he could see was the love he had for her, every time she had held his hand in comfort, every time he had ever returned the favour. He’d do anything for her. It was his job to protect her, and he’d gladly die doing it. 

“It’s…alright…” He managed to gasp, his shaking hand touching her hair. “I promise…it’s alright.” 

He fiercely wished that he could believe it. 

To be continued...

Taglist

@eternalremorse @slytherin-paramour @writing-intheundercroft @evaslytherpuff @loving-him-was-red13 @sevprince-91 @lucy-withthediamonds-inthesky

[beetlerings]

sorry for making your conventionally attractive twink kind of ugly it will happen again (not sorry)

[slytherin-paramour]

I made a little scene from @blueraineshadows amazing story, Blood Bound! If you haven't read it yet, I implore you to do so! It's a story that puts you through every emotion and makes you think about things, not to mention leaving you hanging for more! I'll link the story at the bottom :)

[surprisedsidney]

btw id like to follow more choices blogs, please reblog if you are a fan of:

Blood bound

Immortal desiers

Crimes of passion

Murder at homecoming

It lives series

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Redemption is a Perpetual Journey

Series: Bloodbound

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed x Gaius Augustine

Rating: Mature (angst)

Word count: 1,491

A little birthday gift for the amazing @thosehallowedhalls ! Based on a chat we had... and because you have made me see our dear Gaius in a new forgiving light 🤭 I hope you have an amazing day - you deserve happiness and all good things! I'm so glad I met you, Caro 🌺🎉

The year is 3024.

The world had transformed beyond recognition.

Vast expanses of the earth had become unliveable, forcing its inhabitants to shelter in massive city-states.

The city of Novopolis had risen from the ruins of New York during the times of upheaval.

It sprawls beneath a massive shimmering dome, its skyscrapers reaching for the artificial sky like thousands of jagged steel fingers.

The domes were built centuries ago, consequence of the ozone layer’s depletion. Humankind in its hubris having failed to reverse the climate crisis. This development had been convenient for the vampires who could now walk in the daylight amongst humans, cyborgs and all manner of supernatural beings.

Kamilah Sayeed lands smoothly in a forested park on the outskirts of the glittering, fast-paced city.

A tap on her smartwatch, the lightweight wings disappear into her outfit.

She takes in her surrounding with a sharp glance. Smoothing her sleek dress. The digitally-enhanced fabric changes to align with her desired look – an elegantly dark don’t fuck with me style that makes her feel powerful, in control.

Today, she needs to be in control.

A thousand years had passed since they had defeated the original vampire, the Goddess Rheya. Since that fateful conversation with her sire, her on-and-off lover for nearly two thousand years.

******

2024

“Kamilah… in Japan… you said one good deed doesn’t undo all the evil I’ve caused. How many do you think it would take… to call me friend?”

“Come talk to me in a thousand years. I’ll let you know what I think then.”

“A thousand years…” he smiles wryly, “I suppose I could give it a try.”

*****

Gaius Augustine had been true to his oath.

The vampire had spent the past millennia wandering the known world, hunting down criminals and supernatural villains without reprieve. He seemed to have kept mostly to himself, not staying anywhere long enough to build attachments. Only leaving a trail of whispers of his exploits across continents.

Avoiding all contact with other vampires, anyone from his old life.

That was fine by her.

Kamilah had not wanted to see him. She remained angry at how he had degraded her, corrupted her into becoming a killing machine for thousands of years. But more so, Kamilah was furious at how she had let herself be seduced by his charisma, his allure. Allowed him to tempt her into following his murderous inclinations for so long. No, it would be disingenuous to lay all the blame at her maker’s feet.

And there was the issue of Rheya. Gaius had said she was not completely to blame for his behaviour, though she had locked away his empathy, his ability to feel guilt. How would their lives have turned out without her toxic influence?

At least, the pain had dulled over the centuries.

She had begun to forgive herself.

As for Gaius, she would see.

Kamilah takes a deep breath, composing herself.

The elegant vampire sets off at a leisurely pace, strolling beneath the shade of tall trees.

She heads towards a massive wooden bridge crossing a stream. A vestige of New York. Nothing made of wood was created anymore, the few surviving forests too precious to misuse so.

Kamilah crosses paths with humans, faes and other mystical beings. Most now have artificial limbs and enhancements thanks to growing advancements in biohacking.

Lily would have thrived in this environment.

Kamilah vividly remembers the vibrant, energetic young woman who had sacrificed her life to help defeat Rheya. Lily’s contagious positivity and selflessness had managed to thaw her heart a little.

The other members of their ragtag crew – Adrian, Amy, Jax, Seraphine, Nikhil – also held a soft spot, though each had followed their own paths over the centuries.

“Kamilah.”

Gaius’s soft whisper jolts the woman from her musings.

“A thousand years apart, and yet here we stand.”

He stops a few feet from her, movements uncertain.

Quickly calming her heartbeat, Kamilah takes in his appearance.

Physically, he had changed little. Those same handsome, sharp features. That charming, deviously seductive smile. That ageless face.

Though a constellation of new scars told a story, centuries of rough living. His blue eyes now held a certain melancholy.

“I’ve missed you.”

He smiles tentatively, his angular face softening slightly.

Kamilah remains silent. Observing him.

Attempting to process the chaos of emotions churning deep within her.

Together, they had danced, loved, hated and fought through epochs, their passion always an unbreakable thread. But now, after so many centuries apart, he felt like a stranger to her.

Kamilah’s gaze turns away, sweeping over the cityscape.

“Novopolis. A monument to human resilience. And yet, it lacks the wild beauty of our old world.”

They lean against the worn bridge, staring out at the jagged skyscrapers. Letting the sunlight warm their exposed skin. The dome above them hums softly, shielding them from the toxic atmosphere beyond.

“That is does. I miss the vast forests of old. How one had to spend months hidden on cramped ships to travel between continents. Spend weeks on horseback, traversing vast fields and woodlands, our bodies stiff with the harsh journeys. I had never felt more alive. Now, everything feels fast-paced, ephemeral.”

“Except us. We remain constant through all of it, unchanged.”

“Are we truly unchanged?”

Gaius asks, turning to her, gazing into her eyes intently. As if her response meant everything to him. Could perhaps redeem him.

Kamilah returns his gaze. Silent. Her face an undecipherable mask.

The man sighs.

“I have done my best to atone for my past deeds. Though it can never erase all the harm I’ve brought this world, I dare hope that somewhere down the line, I… I will begin to hate myself less. And perhaps, so will you…”

Those last few words are whispered. A confession to himself, to her.

Kamilah’s gaze finally softens. The tension eases from her shoulders.

“Gaius, for the longest time I have blamed you for our bloody rampage across Europe. For nearly destroying New York. Killing Amy, and countless others. Truth be told, I have my share of misdeeds to atone for. I am still working on forgiving myself."

Gaius takes her hands in his, willing her to look at him.

“My dear, you have always been the greater one. My moral compass. I will forever regret not heeding your advice during my darkest moments. Gods if I could take it all back…”

“But we can’t. We can only move forward.”

Those hands. Kamilah shivers unwillingly at the familiar warmth, as a surge of memories overwhelm her senses. Oh, how these hands had caressed her so tenderly, sensually for centuries. Traced every curve of her body, memorized her intimately, elicited a range of pleasure and emotions that no other being – man or woman – had been able to match since. How these same hands had also threatened her, hurt her and her loved ones. Caused her uncountable grief and sorrow.

What were they to her now?

He notices the conflicting emotions flashing across her exquisite face and steps closer, sliding his hands up, caressing her arms, shoulders, wanting to ease her pain. Somehow.

On impulse, Kamilah reaches out, tracing his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Such familiar features. That soft skin, so warm.

He closes his eyes, leaning into her delicate touch. The shadow of a smile dances on the corners of his lips.

“Gaius, will we ever find peace?”

He opens his eyes, locking onto hers. A mix of emotions flickering in those endless pools. Sadness, self-loathing, tenderness… and hope.

“Perhaps. Perhaps… we can attempt to continue our journeys of atonement together?”

Kamilah closes her eyes at that, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Gaius gathers her into his arms tenderly. She buries her face into the crook of his neck and breathes in his familiar scent, hints of leather and earthy notes. Allowing herself to be vulnerable for a moment.

Just a moment.

As the city buzzes in the distance, Kamilah whispers against his warm skin, regretfully.

“I am not certain I am ready for that.”

Gaius holds her tighter, unable to let her go just yet. He nods his understanding into her obsidian hair, bending towards her ear to murmur

“I have waited a thousand years to see you again. For you, my queen, I will wait a thousand more.”

[taymartiart]

I guess I’m just a sucker for those “forced to learn to dance with your hot af enemy,” tropes.

[p0tat0-4rt]

I think I will

[valentineramsey]

I am playing Blood Bound for the first time (I know, shocking!) and decided to romanticize Kamilah. I just realized how the writers were shoving Adrian down my throat, like—can you NOT. I am busy worshipping Kamilah for the goddess she is.

[bloodboundsiege]

ANDROID DEMO NOW AVAILABLE

the wait is over! the demo for bloodbound: the siege is now available on android. you can download it here.

thanks for waiting! i hope it was worth the wait for y'all :)

[jax-winchester]

So i’m re reading older choices books and I really miss old choices. Some of the new books are good but the older books have me laughing my ass off. The Royal Romance especially

[stanathanxoox]

Did You Make This?

gif not mine

Prompt by @me-writes-prompts

^^ “Did you make this?” “Yes…is it not good? I’m sorry.” “No, no. It’s good, heck, it’s great!” - Adrian Raines x reader

You had been busy in the kitchen since finishing work, Adrian was stuck in a meeting that didn’t require you to be there so you had ended up back down in the penthouse cooking up a storm. It was only a couple of weeks since the two of you had officially become a couple so you wanted to impress him with your cooking skills, in a way that you had tried countless times to do with the numerous dates that had failed before even meeting the man of your dreams. You’d just finished putting the cheesecake in the fridge to set whilst the vegetables simmered and the meat for your main course cooked when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“What have we here?” you hear him whisper in your ear

“Oh, hi Adrian. I thought your meeting would be for a little while longer so I was cooking for you” you say nervously turning in his arms to look up and see warmth in his blue gaze.

“You cooked for me?” he asks a little bit stunned and you nod

“I hope that’s okay, I know we normally order take out after a meeting or you cook for me but I wanted to surprise you” you say and he smiles placing a kiss on your lips to silence you

“It’s okay Y/N, my sweet. I can’t wait to try it” he says, before letting you go and heading towards the bedroom to change into something a little more comfortable.

When Adrian returns to the kitchen less than five minutes later your platting up the main meal. He smells it and smiles

“That smells delicious” he says and you smile a little hesitantly

“Well I hope it tastes delicious too” you say as you put the plate down in front of him and he takes the first bite of meat and vegetables together, your on your way back to the table with your own plate of food when he asks

“Did you make this?” 

“Yes…is it not good? I’m sorry.” you say, looking down at the plate in your hands ashamed that again you seemed to have failed to impress anyone with your cooking “No, no. It’s good, heck, it’s great!” he says as he gets to his feet and takes your plate out of your hands, placing it on the table so that he can wrap his arms around you

“My sweet, who had you doubting yourself so much?” he asks and you look away from his gaze, not wanting to answer his question, embarrassed by the answer. 

“What is it?” he asks

“Its embarrassing” you say, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden, like the impossible age gap between you is finally rearing its head. He tilts your head up and says

“I don’t care whether its embarrassing Y/N, it apparently has effected you and your self-esteem. So why are you doubting yourself so much?” 

“My exes, guys I used to date and try to impress, I would try to cook for them and they would tell me that my cooking is sh*t” you say admitting to him of your failure.

“Don’t ever doubt yourself again my sweet, okay. What you’ve just cooked is incredible and I have years of experience of what good food tastes like okay. Please, come and join me at the table? And enjoy this delicious meal you made” he says and you can’t help but swoon at the words that leave his mouth. Your doubt hadn’t completely disappeared but it was no longer screaming at you as you sat across from your boyfriend.

Tag List: @tiva-jenry-caskett-rizzles-densi​, @jimmybpride​, @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​, @nikkiwierden​, @samchelforever007​, @kirkspockbones​, @xoncisxncislaxncisnolaox​, @lasalle-pride-sebastian-love​, @haliannej​, @brooklyn-99-amyxjake​​, @mizzezm​, @genius2050​, @twilight-twihard​, @cullencoven2019​, @wxlfgirlx​, @luciferxchloeislove​, @drethanramsey-ismybabe​, @sawyer-oakley-is-mighty-fine​, @loverofoneshots​, @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen​​

Tag List for Pixelberry fics: @cordoniaqueensworld​, @aworldoffandoms​, @desiree—1986​

Tag List for Open Heart: @melissagoodwill​, @lady-kato​, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​, @cxld-play​

Tag List for Adrian Raines: @krishu213​, @adrianrainesworld

[evaslytherpuff]

I’m not ready for the next part!!!😱😱

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Chapter 13 - 14.2k words

Tags: NSFW / Dark Magic / Angst / Injury / PTSD

Chapter Master List and Ao3 link

Chapter Thirteen: Of Faerie Rings and Offerings

Sebastian

Another wild, Highland trail to follow, and more hours of tension, as they walked through the cold, morning fog. As hardy as he was, living outdoors and growing up through the unpredictable patterns of Scottish weather, Sebastian had wrapped a warm, wool cloak about himself before setting out with MC in search of their next location. He walked on ahead, MC lagging behind him, her breaths laboured and her mood quiet. She wasn’t up to full fitness yet despite the potions she took each morning, but insisted she was fine every time he paused to check on her.

Turning once again on the path, his gaze taking her in, a small crease appeared on his brow at the paleness of her face contrasting with the dark smudges under her eyes. The last two nights had been rough, sleeping out in the wild landscapes in their tent, the tension thick after the confrontation with Anne. His twin’s words had intended to cut, and they certainly felt heavy over his head, slicing open his fears that MC would leave him. 

Waiting for MC to catch him up, he pulled his cloak closer against the damp chill, moisture heavy in the air from a lingering fog. MC slowed to a stop beside him, strands of damp hair stuck to her forehead and cheek. She gave him an enquiring look, glancing around at the endless sentinels of trees that surrounded them. 

“Why have we stopped? Are we close to the fairy ring?” 

“It shouldn’t be too much further,” he said, managing a reassuring smile. “How are you holding up? That last hill was quite the climb.” 

“I’m fine,” she assured him, her chin tilting up in that stubborn way of hers. “I told you to stop fussing over me like I am some kind of china doll that’s about to break.” 

He grinned and brushed gloved fingers against her temple, smoothing back the loose strands of hair there. “I know. That doesn’t mean I listened, though. I am merely adopting the manly role and looking out for the fair maiden in my charge.” 

Her look of disbelief was swiftly followed by a ‘pfft’ of laughter. “Oh, but of course!” She scoffed, planting her hands onto her hips. “Never mind the fact that my magic far outweighs yours in power, and if anything should befall us, then it is more likely going to be the fair maiden who saves the day. What, pray tell, will your manly role involve then?”

A spark of delight filled him at the sight of her mouth curving into a smile. Her laughter may have been an attempt to mock him, but he would take it. Her mood had dropped so low over the last few days due to the lack of ancient magic deposits, and the emotional weight she seemed to carry had put up tense walls between them. He wondered if she would rise to even riskier bait, his fingers shifting to capture her chin, tilting her face up towards him just so. Her eyes flashed, her mouth a tempting pout of pretty pink as he gave her his most wicked smirk. 

“I can think of a few manly roles I could adopt to offer my thanks to the fair maiden for saving my backside,” he murmured, daring to lean close enough until he could feel her breath on his cheek. “Especially for a maiden as fair as you.” 

“Smooth, Sallow,” she said, arching a brow, but not before she had visibly swallowed at their closeness. He had caught that dark spark in her eyes before she had quickly smothered it. Her hand caught hold of his wrist and tugged his hand from her chin. “But, you’re going to have to try harder than that.” 

“I’ll take that as a challenge,” he grinned, tipping her a cheeky wink. 

MC rolled her eyes and set off along the forest trail again. “Come on, let’s keep at it. You said the fairy ring was close. You can tell me more about your manly deeds with the Ashwinders as we walk. Impress me with your villainous skills.” 

She threw a smirk over her shoulder and he felt his spirits rise a little as he stepped out to join her, matching her step so they could walk side by side, careful to avoid tripping on rogue rocks or tree roots. 

“What do you want to know? I have some rather miserable tales about debt collecting on Rookwood’s behalf, or there is always the noble act of robbing from shipping crates arriving from far flung places.” 

Her side eye game was strong as she shook her head. “I think you might need to check on the definition of what a noble act entails. What are in these shipping crates anyway? Do you know? I hope it's not beasts.” 

He met her narrow eyed suspicion with a firm denial. “I stay well clear of any poaching,” he assured her. “That side of the gang is definitely not my area of interest.”  

“No, you are far happier with the torture and thievery,” she said sourly. She frowned thoughtfully. “Does it get any easier the more you do it?” 

The dark shadows of memories hovered greedily at the corners of his mind, and he adjusted his cloak, his face grim. “No,” he said regretfully. He sighed, his gaze scanning their surroundings, always on watch. “Thievery is probably the easiest job to do. Most of the crates that we stash have rare items such as spell books, or ancient artefacts from other countries. Those are the ones that intrigue me the most. I was working the docks for a while, particularly at Dover. Rookwood has a hidden lock up in the tunnels that are carved inside the white cliffs. Those tunnels date back centuries, carved out by Saxons or Vikings I suspect. Hidden by enchantments, Rookwood has quite a decent stash there.” 

MC remained quiet, appearing to think this over as she chewed her lower lip. She gave him a curious glance. “Have you ever been tempted to sneak an item for yourself?”

He gave a sly smile, shrugging his shoulders. “I may have pilfered the odd book, you know me. But, not too often. I couldn’t risk being caught. I’m with the Ashwinders for a reason, and I can’t afford to lose sight of that over a few items. The time will come when I get my hands on his collection.” 

Her expression soured and she dipped her gaze. Anne was a sore subject, but his determination to fix his sister remained the same. He couldn’t just let it go, not when they could be so close. After what MC had told him from her talk with Rookwood, killing him would lift Anne’s curse. It might even be worth the time in Azkaban to just end him and suffer the consequences. Anne would be well, Rookwood would get what was coming to him, but he would be parted from those he loved once again.

Lost in thought, he was surprised when MC came to a stop, his eyes immediately scanning the path ahead for any trouble. The path had widened slightly, the trees here mostly ash and old oaks, the ground a crispy carpet of browns and golds from the Autumn fall. Ahead was a clearing, a first glimpse of ancient stones set into a circle. 

“This is it,” MC whispered, a look of intense concentration on her face. 

Ancient stone circles were littered all over the Scottish wilderness, some called them fairy rings, others pagan ritual sites. Whatever they were called, there was always a healthy amount of respect and awe for these places. Untouched for centuries, they held a magical aura of their own, but it was the glow of ancient magic that they needed from this one. After nearly a week, they had found nothing.  

“Do we need to move closer?” He asked, watching her carefully. He couldn’t see the traces, but sometimes he could sense a strange energy in the air, although this could merely be coincidence. After all, he had magical blood of his own, and magic could be sensed if one concentrated hard enough. 

They moved towards the clearing slowly, the stones standing as solid and true as the day they were placed, any greenery that had dared to encroach seemed to do so with its own level of respect. MC moved towards the centre of the ring, turning in a circle as she studied the stones. Markings had been carved into them, symbols that were intriguing but very few looked familiar to Sebastian. 

MC sighed, her shoulders slumping. She shook her head and gave him a defeated look. No ancient magic here, either. All that walking for nothing. What were they doing wrong? 

MC

The leather of Noctua Gaunt’s journal was supple and smooth, the book a pleasant weight in her hands. MC let her fingers slide over the cover, deep in thought as she sat with her back resting against a tree under a canopy of tall ash. She had never known her mother, and to read about her within the pages of a book was strange, disconnected. It made her appear as a character in a story rather than a living and breathing person, and yet, she was out there in the world somewhere if records proved true. The fear that lingered in MC’s heart that Elizabeth had met a similar fate to Noctua kept taunting her. Perhaps she was foolish to get her hopes up, and any daydreams about a reunion were neither helpful nor wise.

Elizabeth Gaunt had fallen for a Muggle. A forbidden love for a daughter who came from a line of pure magical blood, her family staunch believers in keeping magic within the bloodlines. The emotions may be written by a second hand, but MC still felt an affinity to a young girl who felt confused about her own feelings. The circumstances may have been different, but MC was confounded by the way her heart seemed to find itself torn between two very different men. However she tried to imagine a life with either of them, it always came to the fear that she would end up destroying them both, as Elizabeth appeared to have ended up destroying her own true love for daring to take what she wanted.

Leander had a pure soul, and she could not bear the thought of dragging him under the shadow of her darkness. She had warned him of such, and yet he remained. Sebastian carried his own darkness, their paths entwined so deeply that surely they were like kindred spirits. His twin thought otherwise. Anne’s bitter prediction that MC would destroy Sebastian in the end still echoed through her thoughts. Could it be so? As much as she resented Anne, her words had struck a nerve, nudging up against the old fears that she had carried throughout her whole life. That she was not worthy of love. Abandoned as a child, never adopted, always on the outside looking in, followed by a darkness that owned her. Always alone, even when she had bound herself to another. 

To take the love that Leander offered so willingly would be a selfish thing to do. It terrified her when she saw that softness in his eyes, how fragile and untouchable it appeared, and if she broke it, which surely she would eventually, then it would be lost forever. The irony of it brought tears to her eyes. In not accepting what he had to offer, she proved only that she returned his affections. If she did not care, she would drain him of all he had to give. It would seem she did care, a lot.

Allowing a tear to escape and roll down her cheek, she thought of Leander, allowing herself to relax the solid walls of protection she had built around herself the last few days. Sebastian had excused himself, wandering off a way under the cover of lingering fog through the trees. The few moments of his absence provided precious time for her to vent the pent up emotion stuffed tightly in her chest. Closing her eyes, all she could see was Leander standing in the kitchen of Shell Cottage, his face a mask of bravery whilst his eyes glittered with his pain. Leaving him like that had been so very difficult, but in the end, it had to be for the best.

Taking a deep breath, MC took out the secret parchment and opened it out on top of the journal, tapping it with her wand and turning up nothing. No messages from Leander.  Swallowing foolish disappointment, she reminded herself that she had a job to do, and she wouldn’t let him down. Wiping the tear from her cheek, she sat up straighter, writing quickly before Sebastian returned. The little tidbit of information that Sebastian had shared about the tunnels in the cliffs at Dover would be valuable information, and she explained quickly. Resisting the urge to add anything personal, she tapped her wand and sent the words on their way to her Auror. 

When Sebastian wandered back through the trees, the low lying mist swirling around his boots, she gave him a wary look. Caught off guard for those brief seconds, she met his gaze and her heart thundered behind her ribs. His look was drenched in curiosity, he knew she was suppressing something, and she feared the questions he would likely ask. She wasn’t ready to answer them. She could feel his need rolling off him in waves, curling with the mists and snaking around her, his eyes almost begging for her to open up to him as he rolled his lower lip thoughtfully. 

Dragging her eyes from him, she stuffed the journal back into her bag and got to her feet, brushing dirt and leaves from her trousers. Barriers firmly back in place, she slung her bag over her shoulder and glanced towards the trail. “We should get moving,” she said stiffly. “We have one more possible location to scout out before nightfall.”

Sebastian paused beside her, picking up his own bag and taking out the map. She could feel the strength of his gaze on her, but kept her own eyes averted, looking down at the markers he had drawn on the map. He pointed at the next location with a grubby finger, small scars that looked like burns from spells embedded on his skin. Hands capable of such destruction, and yet she found she liked looking at them, unable to help herself as she took in the veins on the back of them filled with his life blood. Hands that had held her, touched her in ways that left her breathless. Hands that could kill. 

“There is a village nearby where we could stop for provisions,” he said, showing her on the map. “I’m almost out of snacks, and I’m pretty hungry.”

Risking a look at him, his expression was one of simple enquiry, the earlier raw need gone. Her lips almost curved into a smile. “You had a massive breakfast, Sebastian. How are you so hungry already?”

“It’s all this fresh air and exercise, love,” he smirked, patting his stomach. “It gives one an appetite.”

She dared to poke a finger into the softness of his tummy. He was by no means overweight, but neither was he lean and hard. He had that solid build, with just an edge of softness, a body that was both strong and capable of the most satisfying hugs. She felt warmth flame her cheeks as she recalled curling into him and falling asleep the other night. Clearing her throat, she lifted her eyebrows, flashing him a teasing glance. “Aww, cute and squishy like a teddy bear. Must be all the snacks.”

He scowled and rubbed his stomach again, looking down at it. “Are you suggesting I’m getting chubby?” He asked, pinching at his flesh through his shirt.

She stepped out along the path with a chuckle, glancing back to him, allowing her gaze to sweep slowly over him. There was nothing boyish about him anymore, except for maybe the twinkle in his eyes sometimes, and he definitely wasn’t chubby. Her eyes lingered on the cut of his jaw, darkened with a few days worth of stubble, the strength in his neck and shoulders. She knew all too well how easily he could lift her up. Her fingers clutched at her bag strap as she let her gaze wander down over his torso, lingering on thick, powerful thighs. Solid, strong, but fast, those legs could side step and fall into powerful stances during duels. He could run, too.

Biting her lower lip, her gaze lifted to meet him once more, and she could see the way those chocolate eyes had darkened. Staring each other down under the canopy of the forest, she felt the primal pulse of blatant desire flare in her blood, calling to him. His throat worked as he swallowed, his lips parting slightly as though about to speak.

“Don’t worry, I was merely jesting,” she said quickly, flashing him a quick smile. “I'm sure there are plenty of adoring fans at the duelling pit when you start flexing your prowess.”

Turning quickly so she could get a grip on her flushed state, she began to stride along the path, blood pumping. It wouldn’t do to get all carried away with intrusive thoughts. His mouth had always been distracting, and she had enough to figure out without adding ideas of what that mouth could do.

“I should hope so,” he cracked, following her, his boots thudding against the dirt. “It takes a lot of care and attention to look this good, darling. I wouldn’t like to disappoint.”

She huffed a laugh, throwing her eyes up towards the gently swaying branches above their heads, golden leaves fluttering down to carpet the forest floor in a blanket of fiery colours. “Always so bloody sure of himself,” she muttered.

Hands gripped her waist and she jumped with a sharp intake of breath, her feet stilling as he bent close to her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “I heard that,” he murmured, his fingers flexing in a tempting grip. “If you don’t believe me, you are most welcome to conduct a more thorough investigation. You would find me a very willing participant.”

Gulping in an attempt to steady her breathing, MC desperately tried to get a grip on the roaring of her pulse, every nerve ending seeming to bend and scrape to his will. “Oh, I have no doubt about your willingness,” she quipped, aiming for bored and unimpressed, but sounding dangerously close to breathy and needy. “It likely equals your level of audacity and randiness. Quite the scoundrel, in fact.”

His nose brushed up the column of her neck, his throaty chuckle sending shivers down her spine as her head tipped foolishly back a touch. All this wonderful fresh air, and yet she couldn’t breathe sufficiently. “I would wager that you secretly enjoy the scoundrel in me,” he teased, soft lips grazing against her skin, the scratch of stubble added just enough roughness to make her sigh. “You are quite the vixen yourself, MC. Do you even know what you do to a man when you look at him with that dark fire in your eyes? When you sway these delectable hips…”

His hands slid down to cup her hips, drawing her back against him so that her back was flush against that solid strength she had been appraising. No, she absolutely wasn’t leaning into him, her eyes closing as his hot mouth claimed a taste of her neck, over and over again, until she felt the tantalising tug of his teeth on her earlobe.

“Seb…” It was the ghost of a whisper through her lips, her back arching as the flat of his palm slid down to the top of her thigh.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he breathed into her hair, his fingers digging deliciously into the flesh of her thigh before he dragged them slowly upwards.

A soft sound left her throat as her knees trembled. Scoundrel, indeed. He knew what he was doing, and she let him, her skin inflamed with every heated touch of that wicked mouth. With one hand splayed at her midriff, and the other seeking out the curve of her hip and backside, her body was melting into his touch. How easy would it be to give in and let him have her? Like falling back into a feather pillow, surrounded by his scent, his arms, his kisses driving the wildfire in her blood to dizzying heights. So effortless.

“Seb,” she said again, firmer this time, her brows drawing together. 

He spun her round to face him, his hand claiming her jaw as he pressed his hot mouth to hers in a dominant kiss. While her fingers clutched at his jacket, and her mouth opened to welcome the slide of his tongue, she felt the first flutters of insecurity and panic begin to dance in her chest. 

This isn’t love, it’s obsession. She will destroy you. 

Her hands were in his unruly mop of hair, his low groan into her mouth making her thighs clench as his hands moulded her curves. Their kisses had become desperate, ravenous, their hot gasps for breath loud in the surrounding quietness. But, the doubts filtered through the haze.

If you were to allow it, I would love you until the very end of existence. 

Breaking the kiss with a whimper, MC squeezed her eyes closed against the voices in her head. Anne and her bitterness, Leander and his soft brown eyes full of love she could never accept, Luella Rookwood’s possessive hand on Sebastian’s arm. Her chest tightened but she couldn’t seem to let go of Sebastian, her hands curled into his black jacket as though her life depended on it. His eyes were aflame with hunger, dark and wild, his freckled cheeks flushed with passion when she dared to look at him. They shouldn’t be doing this. Every cell in her body was screaming for him, but that little cold slice of her that held all her fear and doubt began to cut through the fire in her blood. It had not been that long since they had held others in their arms, and tasted kisses from another’s lips. 

He shook his head, his eyes turning pained. “No, don’t do that,” he begged, holding her tighter against him. “Don’t you dare start shutting down on me, not now. Please. Don’t push me away, MC.”

“It’s too soon,” she rasped, shaking her head. She stepped back, her arms straightening where she still clutched his jacket, holding him at bay. “I can’t.”

“Surely, you must feel this…this connection between us,” he said, grasping her arms in a tight grip. The desperation on his face, that flicker of fear in his gaze, it made her heart twist painfully. “Please, MC. I love you so much. You drive me crazy being this close, but so out of reach. What do you want me to do? I can’t stop how I feel about you, not ever.”

“You said you could wait,” she winced, his declaration joining Leander’s in the jumbled mess of emotions bubbling inside of her. 

A pained look crossed his face and he let her arms go, his hands dropping to his sides and he looked away through the trees. “What am I waiting for, MC? Tell me that. Am I waiting for you? Or, are you going to tell me that you love him more, and then go off to live your life without me? Is that how you will break me, MC? Are you planning to leave in the end?” 

A tear slid from her eye and she flinched, blinking rapidly against the swell and burn of more filling her eyes. Her lips parted but no words came. Would she leave him? Slowly letting go of his jacket, she turned her left palm up to look at the red scar there. She was bound to him until death, and therefore, he would always be a part of her. She could never fully turn her back on him, and neither could he do the same to her. But, was it enough?

Sebastian wrapped a hand around hers, squeezing it gently. “Don’t look at that, look at me,” he said softly. “When you look at me, I feel like you see me for who I truly am. You have seen the worst of me, and yet you stuck around. You are more than just a scar on my palm. You’re everything.” 

“I…I’m scared,” she admitted, withdrawing away from him, her arms curling around herself as she stepped back. So long in the dark, alone and afraid. Now, she was surrounded by what she had craved for years, but she was too scared to reach out and take it. “What if it’s not real? What if it’s just the foolish, teenage dream you’re in love with rather than me? I’m not that girl any more. Azkaban changed me. I’m harder, colder, the darkness is always there waiting for me. What if I destroy you? What if I can’t give you what you want?”

He looked crestfallen. Those big, brown eyes of his made her think of an abandoned puppy, lost and in need of reassurance. “What are you saying?”

The truth had spilled from her lips and she cringed from it, slapping her hand to her mouth and turning from him. “I can’t…I can’t do this right now.”

He called out to her, but her feet kept moving, one in front of the other until she was running. Speaking the darkest, painful truth had split the fear into shards and now they were digging their jagged edges into her chest. It left a raw feeling there, replacing the heated desire that had bloomed so ferociously before. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, she ran. The path winding through the trees splitting off into tangents that she paid no heed to as her feet hit the dirt. Running from herself, running from the dark, and behind her, the inevitable steady beat of footsteps running after her. 

Sebastian

When MC had run from him on the peaks above Hogwarts Valley, he had let her go. Her magic had blasted from the depths of the forest in her rage and pain, but he had not gone after her. This time, he gave chase. Instead of Apparating, she had run, and it would be no great effort to catch up to her. He had wanted her to open up to him so desperately, but when that thick shield she clung to had cracked, the vulnerability that had haunted her eyes had staggered him. She had said the darkness lingered there waiting for her, and that was something he knew all about. 

The weak sunlight dappled through the forest canopy, flickering in shades and glimmers on her black hair, strands of it slipping loose from the braid that hung down her back. She was nimble on her feet like a sprite, but she was tiring quickly, her strides lagging as she ran aimlessly through the trees. He could hear her laboured breaths, his mind racing with all that had transpired between them in the last few days. 

Anne had rattled her with poisonous words, planting seeds of doubt in a mind already guarded against him. He loved his twin, but damn, he could throttle her sometimes. Whatever had gone down between MC and Leander haunted her thoughts, her gaze faraway and distracted, her quietness laying thick and heavy ever since she had returned from that meeting. That scared him more than anything Anne could say. Anne he could deal with. MC’s feelings for Prewett were a whole other matter entirely. 

Despite the nagging fear that MC was in love with another man, he could not get that kiss out of his mind. He couldn’t be mistaken. The fire in her gaze, the way she had responded to his touch, it was tangible and explosive. He couldn’t be the only one who felt it, she had to feel that burn between them as he did. Certain that she did, the fear she had admitted to just now had her in a vice grip, and she was holding back from him. There was still hope. There had to be.

The path appeared to be widening out, a strange sound drifting through the trees, like sticks clacking together. MC slowed, her step faltering as a clearing opened up before them. The sound of a babbling spring joined the clacking sticks, MC coming to a standstill before a huge hawthorn tree decorated with ribbons and strips of cloth. Coming to a stop beside her, both of them catching their breaths, Sebastian felt his skin prickle with the sensation that came from being in a sacred place. He recognised the significance of the clearing immediately, his eyes taking in the offerings tied to the tree.

The clacking sticks were makeshift wind charms strung up on nearby ash trees, the breeze catching them and making them sound their strange music as the scraps of fabric fluttered and danced along with them. MC took a step back, her gaze full of curious wonder as she looked around the clearing, seemingly forgetting why she had run from him.

“What is this place?” She shivered, rubbing her arms, a look of intense concentration darkening her face.

“It’s a Clootie tree,” he said, his voice hushed.

“A what?” She turned to look at him, her brow creased.

“A Clootie tree,” he repeated, pointing up to the branches of the hawthorn. “Clootie means cloth. You find them near sacred wells or springs. People come to make an offering, dipping their Clootie into the water and tying it to the tree in the hopes of curing their loved one from some ailment. It’s sometimes done as a gift to the goddess, or spirit, that guards the sacred well, but mostly it is a prayer for good health.” 

MC took a tentative step towards the tree, studying the offerings. Some of them were very faded, the fabric threadbare from age, others looked more recent, one a particularly lovely silk ribbon tied in a bow. “So, these are all likely to represent someone who is hurt, or sick?” 

Sebastian nodded, solemnly. She turned to look at him again, a shadow of sadness in her eyes. “Does it work?” 

“I’m not sure,” he shrugged, looking at a rather faded scrap of tartan. “It’s said that as the fabric wears thin, the ailment fades with it. It could just be a comfort, but as you and I both know, magic is capable of wonderful things. It may surprise you to hear that most of these were likely placed here by Muggles, though. It’s a Celtic tradition going back centuries. You will find these all over Scotland and Ireland, no doubt in Northern Europe, too.” 

The soft look she gave him stirred at the hope he clung to. “Do you know them from personal experience, or through your reading?”

“Both,” he said, his smile sad. “I’ve read about them, of course, but when I was a small child, I remember visiting one with Anne and my mother. We gave an offering to the tree for my grandmother.”

“What happened?”

Sebastian looked at the offerings and swallowed thickly. It had been the first loss he’d experienced in his young life, but definitely not the last. “She died,” he whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” MC said, moving a little closer towards him.

“I remember standing there watching my mother tie the piece of cloth to the tree, and I didn’t believe it would make a difference. I think I even complained about how cold it was that day, the whole idea seeming silly and annoying when I had a new toy train to play with at home.” He bowed his head, worrying at his lower lip as old grief rose up to mingle with new. Always, those he loved had to leave. “Then when grandma died, I lay awake worrying that it was because I didn’t believe in the Clootie tree. It was my fault that the wish didn’t work, and if mother ever found out, she would blame me, too.”

He felt her hand on his forearm, gentle, reassuring. “It’s not your fault, Seb. People die, it’s the way of life. One young boy cannot hold back what nature intends. I doubt your mother would have blamed you, either. Terrible things happen to good people, and we must find a way to carry that loss. There is nothing you could have done.”

“But, what if there was?” He said, his voice hoarse with the emotion bubbling up his throat. “Everyone I love leaves in some form or another. It must all come back to me somehow, and no matter how many books I read, or how many shadows I battle, people still end up leaving. I have to find a way to fix whatever dark curse hangs over me, this rotten luck that steals all that is good and leaves me with nothing.”

She stared at him, wide eyed, lips parted, as he ranted. It seemed she was not the only one cracking open and spilling dark truths. Feeling ashamed of his failures, he put a hand to his face, his eyes squeezing tightly closed as the well of darkness inside of him threatened to spill over. His stomach churned. Shame and guilt, fear and self-loathing, all twisting together to form a lead ball that lay heavy within.

“Perhaps you are right to be wary of me, MC,” he said, voice cracking. “It could well be that I end up destroying you rather than you destroying me. Look what has happened to you already because of me.”

“Do you think Anne has a point?” She asked quietly after a moment. That flicker of worry appeared in her eyes again. “Is this a toxic obsession? What do you see when you look at me? You said I see you despite your darkness, but what of me? I’m just as dark, and definitely more dangerous with the power that I have access to.”

Risking her running from him again, he cupped her face, making sure that he looked directly into her eyes as he spoke. “Yes, you are powerful, and I won’t deny the excitement I feel when I see you unleash it. It truly fascinates me, but that’s my thirst for wanting to know about all things magical. That’s the Ravenclaw part of me that is all my mother. But, the more time that I spent with you, the more I realised that the girl behind all of that was worth knowing, too. I felt this affinity to you, like I could have known you on another plane of existence, or something.”

“A kindred spirit,” she murmured, a slight smile curving her lips. “You said that to me once.”

His own mouth curved in remembrance, his thumb stroking her cheek. “You know me better than anyone, aside from Anne. As I said before, you have seen my darkness, and you stayed. I am not afraid of your darkness, MC. It could be a mirror of my own, and if Anne thinks we will only destroy each other, then I am still willing to risk it. All the time you are willing to hold my hand as we face whatever it is we have to face, then I’m here. If you go down, then I’m coming with you, because if there is one thing I learned while you were gone, it’s that I am fucking miserable without you beside me.”

Her head tilted slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. “You’re a big softie underneath all that dark magic and fierce duelling, aren’t you?”

He gave her his most devilish smirk, leaning in closer towards her. “Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured, dropping her a wink.

“It’s a good thing I am a master of keeping your secrets,” she said, dipping her hand into the collar of her shirt and pulling out the silver chain that held the amulet. The blood stone glittered eerily in the dappled light of the clearing. “I swore on our blood that I would, but even without it, I would keep your secrets, Sebastian. Just as you have kept mine.”

Was it enough, though? He studied the amulet, mulling over the pact they had made. He remembered how strongly he had believed in his love for her. When she had asked if it was nothing more than a teenage dream, it had felt like a blow to his stomach. Looking at her now, her hair tumbling free from her braid, her face pink and blotchy from her tears, he couldn’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else. 

“I should have married you instead of making this blood pact,” he said, taking hold of her left hand. He brushed a thumb over her ring finger. “We could have done it despite our age. We broke so many other rules, why not that one? We could have done it the old fashioned way and performed a Handfast ceremony, they are as good as law here in Scotland. You would have been mine forever.”

She gaped at him. “Marriage? Bloody hell, Sebastian! We were kids! Do you think it would have made any difference? Wouldn’t we still be standing here without a clue what we are doing?” 

“Would you have gone to Prewett’s bed if we were wed?” The question fired from his lips, bringing his fear of her feelings for the Auror into the open.

MC reeled backwards, her cheeks flushing scarlet, and her mouth forming a tight line. “I could ask the same question of you with regards to Miss Rookwood,” she snapped.

“Ask it,” he said firmly. “Ask me, and I will tell you. I would not. She means nothing to me, nothing at all. But, Prewett is a whole other kettle of grindylows, isn’t he? I didn’t move on, MC, but I think you did. You moved on, and you’re too scared to admit it.”

Her eyes widened, and she stepped back, her hands darting up to fiddle with loose strands of her hair. “Admit what, exactly?”

“I know you have feelings for him,” he pressed, his chest heavy as though filled with rock. “As much as it kills me, I saw it in your eyes. You love him, and that’s why you have been so cold and distant with me. You are pushing me back, and I think it’s because of him. I’m right, aren’t I?” 

Her lips parted with a harsh sigh, a small cry of distress leaving her lips. “It’s not the same,” she said, her voice breathless and high. 

“You either love him, or you don’t, MC,” he said, shaking his head. “Am I a fool for thinking that the kiss we just shared meant something? Am I really waiting for you to break my heart?”

She put her hands to her head and paced, her chest rising and falling with tortured breaths. Each agonising second that passed without an answer seemed to make the weight on his chest grow heavier. She wasn’t denying it, his worst fears were manifesting right in front of him, and he felt sick. She was going to leave him for another. 

“You are not a fool, Sebastian,” she said, coming to a stop before him. He almost held his breath as he waited. “But, you are right, I do need to be honest with you. I’m not going to deny that I have feelings for Leander. I cannot help how I feel, and I won’t do him an injustice by pretending that he doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Fucking hell,” Seb groaned, pushing his hands into his hair and looking up at the swaying branches of the trees. 

“You wanted to hear this, Sebastian, and so you can damn well listen!” She said firmly. When he glanced back at her, she had her hands on her hips, her face determined. “He loves me. I know it, and I know he would do anything for me, but I can’t…”

She winced and looked down, taking a deep breath.

“Can’t what?” 

“I can’t give him what he wants,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. She sniffed and put the back of her hand beneath her nose. “He offered me the chance to start a new life, and I turned him down. How could I accept such a thing when I cannot give him all of myself in return? I broke his heart because…because all that he wanted from me, that part of me, in here…” She patted her hand to her chest, tears rolling freely down her cheeks now as she looked at him. “I’m pretty sure that part already belongs to you.”

Her words washed over him, pulling him back from the edge, a stuttered gasp ripping from his chest. The relief that she felt that way had him staggering towards her and dropping to his knees. In that moment, there was no swagger, no smirking, just raw emotion as he buried his face into her stomach, his hands holding her as though she was made of precious glass. He felt her hand in his hair, the touch soothing, and sending shivers down his spine. 

“I haven’t given up on us, Seb,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “There is still a lot to figure out, and that might take some time, but I haven’t given up.”

Sebastian nuzzled into her warmth, breathing her in and drawing comfort from knowing that she was his, but that niggling fear still lingered. She admitted having feelings for Leander. “And, Prewett?” 

He bit his lip, expecting her to push him off, but he felt her shudder. He kept his face buried into the fabric of her clothing, afraid of what he would see on her face if he looked up. 

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she whispered. “He is a good person, and he deserves so much more than what I could give him. My darkness would swallow him whole. I have to let him go.”

For the first time since he had met Prewett in their first year at Hogwarts, he felt a pang of sympathy for him. There was pain and regret in MC’s voice, and while Sebastian hated the thought of them being close with each other, he could understand the pain of wanting someone and then losing them. That could have been him, he could have been the one to be let go of, and perhaps he still could. 

“I will do whatever it takes, MC,” he vowed. “You know I am yours.” 

Her hand swept through his hair, her fingers caressing the back of his neck as he remained there on his knees, holding her. The crude wind chimes clacked together in the trees above, the babbling spring gushed as it had done for centuries, and Sebastian allowed himself a moment of peace beneath the Clootie offerings. This time, he was going to believe in the sentiment that good things could happen. 

“I don’t wish to break up the moment, but there is something you should know,” MC said quietly. Sebastian tensed, waiting. “I know you can’t see it, but there is ancient magic here. It’s glimmering around the trunk of the tree, little wisps of it trailing up and around the branches. The offerings are all touched by the magic, too. It’s actually rather beautiful.” 

Sebastian lifted his head to look up at the tree, but of course, he could not see what she could. He could feel the power of the space, ancient and steeped with years of human emotion. People came here because they were sad, hurting, desperate. They came to make their offering to save their loved ones. That kind of emotional magic was bound to leave a mark. 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, getting to his feet. A strange tingling sensation swept through him as the realisation dawned, and he grabbed MC by the hand. “We have been looking at the deposits all wrong. We are assuming that ancient magic would reside in ancient places, but what if that’s not the true source. It’s old, of course, but age shouldn’t dictate where it would gather.” 

“What are you thinking, Seb?” She asked, her grip tightening on his hand as he gazed up at the tree. 

“These offerings,” he said, gesturing up towards them as he looked at her. “They are emotional. What if that is what draws the ancient magic here? What if it's the emotion that manifests it?” 

Her gaze lifted to the tree, her mouth parting as he saw the way her thoughts must be racing. A quiver of excitement trembled through him, as it always did when he stumbled across a brilliant idea. 

“That would make sense,” she nodded, her gaze dipping shyly before she spoke again. “There have been instances where ancient magic has burst out of me without the use of a wand, and those moments have always been highly emotionally charged. I…I saved Leander from Dementors inside Azkaban without a wand. It just happened. So, the idea of ancient magic being attached to emotions is actually a good one. Let’s not forget that Isadora created the repository using painful human emotions, too.” 

“I should have seen it sooner,” he said, his jaw clenching at how obvious it seemed now. “We could have been spending our time seeking out locations where emotional magic has been cast. Perhaps we would have been more successful.” 

“Well, we know now, at least we think we do,” she said, her eyes brightening. “We need to test this theory. We need a location where something emotional would have happened. How are we going to find places like that?” 

A thought began to turn in his mind, and he was reluctant to suggest it, but it would make perfect sense. The issue was whether he would be able to handle it. Looking at MC, their hands clasped, and the knowledge that she hadn’t given up on him seemed to lend him added strength. “Emotionally charged magic like the murder of a relative in extreme circumstances? How about that for a location to test the theory?” 

Her blue eyes stared at him, and he could see the echo of his own shadows flickering there. They would never forget that day down in those catacombs, it would live inside them for the rest of their lives. 

“Are you sure?” She asked, her worry creasing her brow. 

No, he wasn’t sure, his guilt and fear seemed to stretch and crawl under his flesh. “I guess there is only one way to find out, sweetheart,” he said, and held her closer as he let the image of the Feldcroft catacomb entrance fill his mind. 

MC

The fresh, briney scent of the ocean greeted them as they landed on the cliff top near Feldcroft, the stiff breeze tugging at their hair and cloaks as they gathered their bearings. Tall pines creaked and swayed in the wind, the happy chatter of songbirds a peculiar juxtaposition to the ominous looking entrance of the catacombs. Carved ancient stones leaned amongst the twisted, gnarled tree roots that reached like claws towards the dirt beaten path. A tomb of the dead, ancient and long forgotten, clinging to magic crafted centuries before. The atmosphere spoke of age and dust, but she knew what lingered down there in the dark. 

MC shivered and looked to Sebastian, taking in the paleness beneath his freckles, his eyes fixed on the darkened entrance with a hesitant look. 

“We don’t have to do this,” she said quietly.

His hand massaged anxiously at her waist as he gave a jerky nod. “I’ll be alright. We need to see if we’re right about this.” 

Taking his hand in hers, they walked into the entrance, leaving behind the soft autumn skies for the damp chill of stone and sand. Descending down the cracked stone steps, aged candles flickered into life casting an eerie pale glow to light their way. 

“Do you think anyone has been down here since that day?” Sebastian asked, his voice low and tight. 

MC scanned the path ahead, water dripping down the walls and the patter of a startled rat echoing down the tunnel carved into the rock. “It’s hard to say,” she said. “I’m sure anything worth any value was looted long ago. What would bring anyone here?” 

“I don’t know, explorers, history lovers, desperate boys with grand plans of saving the world.” 

MC paused to look at Sebastian, the brittle sadness behind his words making her question the wiseness of taking him down into these catacombs. She squeezed his hand, her own apprehension twisting in her chest, but she tried to suppress it. “I can go on alone, you know. I’m not afraid,” she suggested. “You can wait for me outside if this is going to be too much.”

His jaw tightened and he took a breath. “Come on,” he said, tugging her forward. “You are not going down here alone.” 

It could almost make her smile how he still insisted on being her protector, despite the ancient power that lived in her veins. There was nothing in these tunnels that she couldn’t fight off, she was more than capable, but he still had the need to be her saviour. 

They walked on, taking the twists and turns with their wands in hand, their other hands still tightly clasped. The candles lit up as they went, casting eerie shadows on stone walls and reflecting off the huge puddles that flooded the chambers. Their boots echoed off the stone flooring sections, the rest of the tombs appearing empty and quiet aside from the odd scampering rat. 

“I had forgotten how much of a warren this place was,” MC murmured as they came out on a large curved balcony, the huge circular chamber supported by solid stone columns. Candles illuminated the space, revealing the shattered coffins and dusty urns on their shelves. Down in the centre of the chamber was a stone altar, abandoned, but left as it was last used. As they wandered down the slope, trying to remember which archway to take next, countless old skulls stared back at them with dark, empty eye sockets. “Can you remember which way to go?” 

Sebastian paused near the altar, frowning slightly as he eyed the options. “There were so many ancient puzzles to solve to get through here, but it seems the doorways are all still open.” 

MC stared at one archway in particular, goosebumps erupting along her arms as she felt a familiar hum beneath her feet. Her heart picked up the pace and she aimed her wand towards the entrance, a stale stench wafting from the dark maw. She could feel it. There was magic here. “This way,” she said. 

They continued on, their hands still tightly wrapped around each other despite the sticky sheen of sweat that had gathered on their palms. Sebastian was quiet, his face drawn and eyes dark. MC could feel the tension on the back of her neck as memories of that awful day returned and replayed in her head, these walls echoing with the shouts, flickering with the spells of their fight with his uncle. 

It was hard not to wonder what Solomon’s motives were, a question that had plagued her during long hours in the dark serving time for his murder. It was all together more strange and frustrating now that she had discovered he had known her as a very small child. It made her feel cold, numb, a sense of dread that this had all been a cruel trick of fate for them all. 

All the while, she felt the pulse of magic begin to strengthen beneath her feet, the static in the air prickled on her skin, and she tried to remain calm. Sebastian couldn’t feel any of those things, but he could probably sense her tension as they entered a chamber with a staircase conjured from ancient bones. They both stood before it, a sense of dread looming over them, the entrance above the staircase flickering with a familiar blue and white light. The power throbbed and pulsed with renewed strength, and she felt the answering call in her blood.

“You were right,” she said softly, turning to look at Sebastian. “There is ancient magic here.” 

A muscle ticked in his jaw as his gaze remained locked on the doorway, a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and he was breathing faster. He shook his head, pulling her back a step. “I can’t…” 

She grabbed his arm, steadying him as he trembled, his eyes still fixed on the doorway with a wide, haunted stare. “You’re alright,” she soothed. “You don’t have to go in there.” 

Tearing from her grip with a tortured groan, he clamped both his hands to his own head, deathly pale as he sucked in panicked breaths. The ghosts of the past were lurking in his eyes, remembering the darkness that had made him flee these tunnels years ago in grief and despair. Their lives had changed down here, his more than hers, at least for a time. 

“I know this is tough,” she said carefully, holding her hand towards him. “But, I’m right here with you, okay? I can run in, absorb the deposit, and then we can get out of this place. We have what we came for, proof of your theory.”  

He looked at her, his eyes dark and glazed with tears. “That magic can’t be good, MC. How can it be? I killed my own flesh and blood. So much hate…” 

His voice trailed off, his eyes drawn back to the catacomb beyond. 

“The hate is gone now, Sebastian,” she said, stepping towards him. Carefully, she placed a hand to his cheek, soothing him with soft touches. “The hate died with him. He’s gone. All that is left are memories, and a spark of magic that I can put to good use.” 

“He’s still in here, though,” he said through gritted teeth, jabbing a finger against his head. “Even in my dreams I hear him. There is no end to it, but I know that it is all my fault. It is the burden I must carry from the choice that I made.” 

Her heart squeezed and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. He was stiff and trembling, but returned the embrace. Her earlier observations about him no longer being a boy seemed to melt away as she stroked his back. Deep down, his inner child was still broken, hiding from the pain and guilt of his actions, drowning under the weight of his uncle’s cold cruelty. In these damp and creepy catacombs, he was still the boy slumped against the wall, watching what was left of his family vanish in the wake of his fury. 

“We will be in, and out,” she promised, her hand soothing the back of his neck. “I only need a minute or two at the most to absorb the deposit, and then we can Apparate away from this place. We will never need to return here again, we can leave it in the past where it belongs.” 

He buried his face into her hair and squeezed her to him. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice muffled. 

She kissed his head, her own demons stalking through the dark of her mind, but she remained steady on her feet. Determination steeled her spine. “And I love you,” she declared. 

Leander 

Today’s briefing had an air of expectancy as Harrington shared information to those Auror’s gathered in preparation for tonight’s raid. Leander sat tense and alert, his fingers twisting around the smooth wood of his wand as he looked at the blackboard behind Harrington. A map of Dover had been pinned to it, markers along the coast suggesting tunnels that had been quickly researched by the archive team this afternoon. The Auror crew that manned the docks at Dover had been informed of the state of affairs by owl, and were on alert. 

When MC’s secret message had come to him, his heart had jumped, his nerves still raw from their last meeting. If he was honest with himself, he had been running on automatic, like a steam engine powering through on sturdy rails. He was coasting, his head stuck in a loop of those moments in the kitchen with her. The scoop she had passed on to him about the Rookwood hideout in the tunnels had switched the pace, firing his head into action, and now he was firing on hot coals. Eager to get into the fray, his eyes were keenly alert as the instructions were given out. 

“We are of the understanding that this hideout is not much more than a storage facility,” Harrington said, shifting his gaze around his team gathered. “Our inside information is newly received, and therefore not completely researched. In order to discover more, we need to investigate these tunnels. There will likely be enchantments, and Ashwinder guards, too. I want you in pairs so that you can watch each other’s backs.”

Leander shifted his attention to the blonde witch seated beside him to see her fully focused, quill poised above her little notebook. Montgomery had that eager to please aura that came from the newly qualified, and he remembered his first proper field work when he joined the Auror Office, that hunger to achieve and impress. 

She felt his gaze on her and glanced his way, her eyes brightening with excitement. “I’m guessing it’s me and you, partner,” she smiled. “You’re not going to leave me behind this time, are you?”

He shook his head, smirking at her upbeat expression. “Indeed it will be you and I teaming up. Potentially, your first proper taste of facing down some Ashwinders. Are you ready for possible combat?” 

A fire blazed in the depths of her eyes. “Absolutely,” she said firmly. 

Back at his desk, Leander brushed his thumb over his Auror badge before slipping it back into his pocket, his attention drawn to the framed photographs of his family. The life of an Auror was one lived on a constant edge. Tonight’s raid was another gamble at becoming injured, or perhaps an opportunity to face Death himself. He knew the risks, as did his family. It was the chance you took when you signed up for this life. He wasn’t sure if it was something that you ever got used to, but you faced it all the same. He supposed that was where the bravery came in, and it was telling when you considered that a high percentage of the Auror Office had come from Gryffindor house. 

Adjusting his tie, and donning his Auror robe, Leander tucked his chair neatly under his desk and straightened the quill placed in its holder before walking across to Montgomery’s desk. Already in her robe, she smiled up at him. “Is it time to go?”

“If you’re ready,” he nodded. “We are to take the Floo to the docks, and make our way up the cliff side from there. The border Auror team will direct us.”

“I’ve never been to Dover,” Montgomery said, tucking her wand away. “I hear the white cliffs are rather impressive, and topped by a magnificent castle. I never really paid much attention to history, but Dover is one of those places that really stands out.”

“It’s been a strategic border defence for centuries,” he replied, standing aside to allow her to pass through the office doors first as they walked. “It’s Britain’s closest dock for Europe, and so there has always been a strong border force for trade and military purposes. I have been there a few times. It’s very busy, but well organised by both a Muggle and wizarding world presence, and has been for hundreds of years.”

She gave him a warm smile as they approached the Atrium. “It sounds like you paid attention in history class.”

He felt a blush warm his cheeks, his fingers lifting to touch at his tie. “I suppose you could say that, and I do like to read. It’s a relaxing way to wind down out of the office.” 

As they neared the rows of green flames flickering in the Floo fireplaces, they slowed their step, pausing before one of the portals. 

“I do hope MC has given you correct information,” Montgomery said thoughtfully, offering him her arm. Leander slipped a polite hand around the crook of her elbow. “You don’t think she would send us into a trap, do you?” 

Leander stared into the green flames, a tightness growing in his chest. “No, I don’t think she would do that. Her information is sound to the best of her knowledge.” 

“You place a lot of trust in her considering she is an ex-prisoner,” she said, gazing curiously at him. “A prisoner who was convicted and sent down for the murder of an Auror, no less.” 

Leander’s face hardened with determination. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Miss Montgomery. There is more to MC than what happened with that Auror, and I know that she despises Rookwood as much as we do. What she is doing for us is no easy feat. Deep in the Ashwinder camp, she risks her own life to pass on this information. I doubt she would do it needlessly, or recklessly.” 

“I hope she deserves such stout loyalty, Mr Prewett,” she said, the green glow of the flames reflected in her shrewd eyes. “We are about to enter the aforementioned Ashwinder territory on her word alone. I merely seek a little reassurance as to our chances out there.” 

“As an Auror, our chances are always hanging on the roll of the dice,” he said, but gave her arm a reassuring pat anyway. “Fear not, we are a good team, and I shall watch your back. That’s a promise. Shall we?” 

Her smile had a twinge of nervousness, but she nodded her consent to leave. Leander stepped towards the flames, his hand linked to her arm, and stated the Port of Dover as their destination. 

….*….

Echoes of the sea winds filled the dark, damp tunnel with eerie whines. They were old passageways, narrow and carved by hand through the chalk. Wands raised, and his senses on high alert, Leander stalked carefully through the dark with Montgomery. The Aurors stationed at the port had briefed them well, with some coming along to assist in the raid. He was confident that everything should fall in their favour. 

The tunnel wound upwards, the occasional vent allowing fresh air to circulate, weak beams of light offering slight relief from the claustrophobic atmosphere. They came to a fork in the path and he looked to Montgomery, using hand gestures to signal which path to take rather than speak and risk the echo of their voices giving them away. She nodded and moved to take the path, but the sound of screams and explosions began to come from the opposite tunnel. 

The fight was on. 

There was no time to think, only act. Taking off at a run, with Montgomery at his heels, they hurried towards the sound of spell casting, the flicker and flash of magic soon beginning to light up the tunnel ahead. When they came to the end of the tunnel, the space opened up into a cavern with a low ceiling, crates and sacks of goods stored against the chalk carved walls. 

Two Aurors were duelling with a group of Ashwinders, a few of them already down. Leander blocked a hex that shot past him, falling easily into fighting mode as he dived for cover behind some crates, firing a retaliation towards the rear of the cave. Using the storage as cover, he fought alongside his colleagues, ducking and maintaining a well trained combat strategy. 

A crate to his left exploded, splinters and dust flying out in all directions. He felt something catch his cheek with a sharp sting, but ignored it, rolling behind some more boxes as Montgomery hurried to join him. 

“Prewett! Are you alright?” She exclaimed, putting a hand to his shoulder to try and get a look at his face. 

“I’m fine,” he insisted, immediately spotting a familiar blonde haired witch stepping out from behind crates. Her gaze fixed firmly on him with interest, her wand arm aimed and ready.

”Prewett?” She purred, a slow smirk lifting her mouth. She was prettier than her wanted poster, but there was no mistaking who she was. Luella Rookwood. “I do believe I have heard of you.” 

A spell burst from the end of her wand, and Leander didn’t even think twice before he grabbed Montgomery and pulled her to the ground beside him as spells flew over their heads from all directions. If he hadn’t, the cast would have hit her right in the back, and his new partner was not going to get hurt on his watch. Montgomery grunted as she landed face first into the dusty floor, the brightness of the spell almost blinding him before he felt it slam into his chest. 

He could hear a muffled scream, but his chest was on fire with a searing pain, his eyes seeing white spots from the lingering glare of the spell. He was thrown back against the crates, the back of his head making contact with a sickening crack that made the world seem to spin before it went out of focus. 

It was pain, colours fading into darkness, an unbearable weight on his chest, and a female voice screaming his name. Then all was black. 

Sebastian

The book lay atop his bed bunk. There was not a speck of dust on it, the cover exactly as it had been when he had first laid eyes upon it. As much as it was hard to comprehend how it could possibly be sitting there now right in front of him, a thrill of excitement at the sheer brilliance of it was enough to accept it. 

“What should we do with it?” MC asked. She stood beside him, her eyes also fixed on the ancient tome. 

“Hide it,” he replied immediately, picking up the satisfying weight and resisting the urge to hold it against his chest as though to protect it. “Under no circumstances can Rookwood get his hands on this.” 

MC eyed the book and shivered, folding her arms tightly in front of her chest. She hadn’t touched it, but her eyes had been curious once the initial shock of its discovery had faded. 

Upon entering the catacomb where the deposit had been found, she had moved towards the centre of the room, her gaze fixed upon something that he couldn’t see. His stomach had churned standing in the doorway, dark memories threatening to swallow him whole as he stared at the ground where Solomon’s body had fallen. Seeing his uncle dead on the ground had been jarring, of course, but the pain of loss had been greater when Anne had turned her cold eyes on him and then disappeared. 

There could be no words capable of describing that sense of abandonment and loneliness. 

As MC had paced slowly in a circle, her wand aimed at nothing, Sebastian’s gaze had been drawn towards the stone altar to the left of the room. Every candle and torch had been illuminated upon their entry, lighting up the space to reveal the scattered bones and debris, glinting off the macabre baubles of spider silk wrapped prey above their heads. To add to the visibility, a shaft of sunlight came from a hole in the ceiling, the beams highlighted by the dust motes they had disturbed, lending the chamber an ethereal look. 

A sense of the impossible had washed over him, and he paused for a moment, seriously considering the idea that he had perhaps entered a dream. He’d blinked a few times, taking an uncertain step forward, his boot crunching on an old bone fragment underfoot. There, on the altar, had stood a book. It was propped up and open as though the reader would be back in just a moment, the pages bright from the nearby candle. Forgetting that MC was preparing to absorb the deposit behind him, he had approached the altar and a strangled sound of disbelief had escaped his throat. 

Slytherin’s grimoire stood as solid and legible as the day it was made, right there on the altar, which couldn’t be possible. Anne had blasted the tome to pieces in her rage that day, destroying the chance of Sebastian ever experimenting with the aged magic again. At least, that is what they had believed. Until now.

Of course, he had brought it with them, unable to leave such a precious artefact of significance there in those wasted caverns. MC had been wary of it, and still was, her apprehension compounded by her recent discovery of her Slytherin bloodline. The look she gave him now back in the tent, a glint of suspicion there with her wariness, made him bring the book closer to his chest after all. 

“The last time you used that book, terrible things happened,” she said carefully. “Perhaps you ought to hide it somewhere far out of reach lest you be tempted to use it again. I can’t believe it reincarnated itself. How does that even happen?” 

“You sound like Ominis,” he moaned, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to begin mastering the dark arts. It’s merely educational. Isn’t it just brilliant, though? Slytherin truly was a master of magic. Of course he would enchant his books against destruction. It’s genius!” 

MC sighed and shook her head. “I feel like I should enchant you against destruction,” she muttered, removing her cloak and dropping it onto the bed. 

His smirk at her words faded as he watched her open her bag and take out a hair brush, loosening her braid so that she could smooth out her hair. She was making herself comfortable in his space, and that was a promising sign. Perhaps she would stay in here with him rather than return to her own tent within the camp. He certainly had no objections to that. 

“How do you feel after absorbing the deposit?” He asked, admiring the way her hair shone like silk in the glow of the lamp. 

Her hands stilled and she bit her lip, her eyes sheepish as they swung towards him. “I have a confession to make,” she said, twisting the brush in her hands. “I didn’t actually absorb the magic deposit.” 

His eyes widened. “Why in Merlin’s name not? Was that not the plan?” 

Her mouth tightened. “It’s Rookwood’s plan. I found that once I was there, I didn’t want to take that magic into myself. Like you said, it couldn’t be filled with much good considering the circumstances of how it came to be. Much like Isadora’s huge repository under Hogwarts, it seemed to seethe with darkness. I don’t want that inside of me, Seb, even more so when it was so personally connected to us both. I figured we have enough darkness between the two of us already.”

“So, it’s still down there?” He frowned at the thought. What if another like MC came along and discovered it? 

“Not exactly,” she said, dropping the hair brush onto the bed. “I moved it.” 

He watched as she slipped a shiny phial from her pocket and held it up. “It’s in here,” she said, giving it a wiggle. “This is a flask made of goblin silver. It was a gift from Professor Fig. It belonged to his wife. Through my conversations with Lodgok, I learned a great deal about how ancient magic and goblin silver can work together. So, rather than absorb the magic into myself, I will store it inside this until I have decided what to do with it. Of course, much like Slytherin’s book, nobody else can know about this.” 

“You have my word,” he said, stepping closer to admire the silver flask. 

“I mean it,” she said, her face firm. “This is strictly between us. I don’t even want the Ministry to know about this. Our little secret.” 

He met her gaze, his fingertips reaching to touch against the silver chain at her neck. It felt like bonds were strengthening between them, she was gradually becoming closer, and it warmed him. “Our little secret,” he whispered. “I cannot help but wonder, though, sweetheart. Why not just absorb it into yourself? Surely that would be much safer than risking this flask falling into the wrong hands.” 

“Even if someone did get their hands on this, they wouldn’t know what was inside unless they were a vessel of ancient magic,” she said, smoothing her thumb over the pretty silver. “I’m the only one who can see it, so to anyone else, it’s just a lovely trinket. As for not absorbing it myself, I’m not sure I want it, Sebastian. It’s already such a burden to carry, and it is becoming all that anyone sees when they look at me. The girl with all the power. Do I really need any more of it?”

Her eyes were dark and fathomless, pools you could get lost in. They truly were a pair of lost souls in the dark, but she was beginning to trust him again. He stroked back her hair, his fingers sliding through the silky softness. As he pressed a kiss to her forehead, she closed her eyes. “That's not all I see,” he murmured. “We will keep the magic safe until all this is over. After that, we will have the rest of our lives to figure out the rest.” 

As she was about to lean into him, a commotion sounded from outside the tent, raised voices and the thudding of feet. They exchanged a quick glance of curiosity before he swiftly conjured the book into a hidden pocket. MC did the same with her goblin flask and they withdrew their wands. 

“Is the camp under attack?” She asked as they hurried for the exit. 

“It could well be,” he replied, adrenaline already beginning to spike as he paused to lift the door flap. He gave her a look. “If it’s Aurors, then let’s hope this doesn’t blow your cover. That article in the Daily Prophet about you was rather damning.” 

“They wouldn’t risk it,” she said, shaking her head. “The only one in contact with me is Leander, and he wouldn’t do anything like this without telling me first.” 

Sebastian arched one eyebrow. “Such faith you have in him,” he muttered sourly. 

“Let’s just see what’s going on out there, shall we?” She snipped, jabbing her wand towards the entrance. 

The sun was descending behind the peaks of the mountains as they emerged from the tent. A few Ashwinders were gathered at the campfire, heads bent in discussion. The rest of the camp appeared quiet, no sign of the camp leader, and Sebastian turned his attention towards Rookwood’s tent. The lamps outside were lit, and Ashwinders were entering. He whistled to catch the attention of the nearby camp members. “What’s happening?” 

The taller of the two turned, his gaze lingering on MC. “A raid down at Dover, apparently. Lulu turned up all battle worn, spitting fury. She’s in with the boss man as we speak,” he said, aiming his thumb towards Rookwood’s tent. 

“Dover?” Sebastian frowned. “What kind of raid?” 

“They found the tunnel stores. Whole place was crawling with the bastards. The fight was bad, think we lost a few,” he grunted. Then his eyes gleamed as a wicked grin curved his mouth. “Got ourselves a couple of captives, though. Should make for a bit of sport.” 

MC visibly stiffened beside him, and Sebastian felt a chilling realisation trickle down his spine. Keeping his gaze on the Ashwinder, he nodded. “Sounds like there are stories to be shared,” he said smoothly. “I will check in with Rookwood in a moment.” 

The Ashwinder merely shrugged and turned back to his companion. Before another word could be uttered, he clamped his hand around MC’s wrist and Apparated them both a short distance away into the trees. As they landed onto a thick carpet of leaves, she gasped, stumbling slightly. 

“I wish you would bloody warn me before you do that,” she snapped, brushing the loose curtain of hair back from her face. 

He didn’t want to believe that this warmth she had been showing him was an act of trickery, but the nagging suspicion clung like ice claws to the back of his neck, the dark shadows of his insecurities crowded his head and obliterated all else. The shadows were lengthening, dusk already claiming the darkness under the trees as though in sympathy with him. He watched her carefully, his body tense. 

“Tell me it wasn’t you,” he asked slowly. 

She frowned. “What do you mean?” 

He huffed and began to pace, pushing his hand through his hair. “I’m not sure how you would do it, though, that’s the problem. I mean, you have been with me the whole time.” He turned his gaze back onto her. “It’s just funny how we have a little conversation about the tunnels down at Dover, and now the place is crawling with Aurors. Is it a coincidence, MC? Or was that your word they acted on?” 

She went very still, her face closing off into that cold way she had when she felt threatened. “Even if it was by my word, aren’t we on the same side here? You make it sound like the raid was a personal attack on you.” 

“I don’t care about the damned raid,” he said, stepping towards her. “I’m more interested in the idea of you using me to gain information on the sly. How would you even get that message to Prewett so fast? You have no owl to hand, and you haven’t left my side. Is he nearby? Is he following us?” 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me, Sebastian,” she said, her jaw tightening. 

“I want to,” he said, his voice pained. Those cold fingers of fear tickled at his neck. “If you want information, you only have to ask. I am on your side. If you were going to pass anything on to the Aurors, why can’t you tell me?” 

Her eyes dipped away, her head bowing slightly, and that curdling jealousy twisted thickly in his gut. “It’s because it's him, isn’t it? Whatever secret thing you have going on with Prewett, you don’t want me involved.” 

“You already know I am his informant, Sebastian,” she sighed. “Why is it such a surprise that I would tell him things? We all want the same outcome here. Isn’t that the priority?” 

He began to pace again, thinking fast. Pushing back the encroaching darkness that waited in the wings of his head, he tried to focus on the raid, and the implications of it. Above all else, their self preservation came first. If the Aurors were tortured, or worse, cast upon with Imperio, then their cover would be blown.

“Do you think Prewett would have gone to the tunnels?” He huffed a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Wait, of course he would go. He can’t help himself.” 

“Wait, what are you suggesting?” Her face paled and she turned her gaze back towards the glow of the camp fires through the trees. She shook her head, fear in her eyes. “No, no…” 

“I hate to say it, but I doubt Prewett is one of the captives,” he said begrudgingly. If there was one thing he could credit to the man, it was his ability to hold his own in a duel. He would never tell the proud Gryffindor, but he had been one his toughest opponents growing up. All the more reason to bait him all the time. “Whoever it is, they are a risk to you, and what we are doing here.”

“Where would they take captives? That holding tent where Rookwood had that lad beaten?” 

Sebastian sighed and nodded. “Most likely.” 

He blinked, and she was gone, the crack of her Disapparating a sharp echo under the trees. He stared at the spot where she had been standing mere seconds ago, his gut twisting sharply. “Fuck,” he swore, gritting his teeth. 

MC

Her pulse seemed to throb in her ears as panic restricted her throat, but she kept her steps calm and deliberate as she stalked down the side of the tent where she had witnessed the punishment of that Ashwinder lad. Peering around the corner, she saw two guards at the entrance, and assessed her options. She merely wanted to look. She just wanted to know if it really was Leander inside the tent. If so, her actions had put him there. 

Thinking of the violence with which the Executioner had treated one of their own in punishment, it made her shudder to imagine what they would do to two Aurors. Even if it turned out not to be Leander, could she allow such a thing to take place? In order to maintain her cover, she might have to, and she didn’t think she would be able to stomach it. 

Perhaps walking boldly up to the guards and asking for admittance would be enough. She was very powerful after all, Rookwood’s little pet. Or perhaps a swift Petrificus Totalus would be in order. Either way, she had to know who was in the tent. 

As she was about to step out, a hand clamped over her mouth and she was yanked backwards. Her muffled squeal was silenced as Sebastian fixed his pointed glare up close to her face, his brows drawn down in temper. 

“What do you think you are doing?” He hissed. “Are you trying to get us in the shit, or what?” 

She struggled against his grip, but he held her firm. She glared at him, hoping her eyes would singe his stupid face. Just when she thought things between them could reach an even keel, he had managed to piss her off yet again, throwing around his over protective jealousy. In her efforts to wriggle free, his hand slipped a little and she managed to open her mouth enough to give him a sharp nip with her teeth. 

“Ah, you little bitch,” he hissed, shaking his hand. “You bit me!” 

“You want to treat me like an animal, then expect to get bitten when you corner me,” she said, her words a harsh whisper. “Don’t grab me like that again!” 

“If you go in there and do anything to help those captives, the game is up, MC,” he insisted, taking hold of her shoulders, his face firm. 

He was right, but she kept her head up, determination making her rigid under his hands. “I’m not stupid, Sebastian. I know there are risks, but…” She wavered, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. “I need to know if he is in there. I can’t just stand by and do nothing and let them hurt him.” 

Sebastian dipped his head, frustration coming from him in waves. “Fine,” he hissed, and began to drag her away towards the rear of the tent. “Then we check it out first, but out of sight. This way.” 

He dragged her around to the rear of the tent and dropped to the ground, loosening a tent peg just enough to pull the fabric up. He nodded to the flattened grass before him. “I’ll hold it up, you get down and have a peek.” 

She dropped to her knees and pressed her cheek to the cool grass, a faint glow from a torch appearing under the flap of fabric. She squinted against the light after the dimness outside, her eyes adjusting. Her gaze swept the tent, and then she tensed when she spotted the two figures sitting on the dirt flooring, tied back to back against a post with rope. One of them was a petite, blonde girl, no more than twenty, her head hanging low against her chest. The other was a very familiar, tall red head, covered in blood, his body limp and apparently unconscious. Tears burned her eyes as she pushed herself upright, a hollow opening up in her chest. 

“It’s him,” she said, the words not much more than a whimper. “Gods, it’s him.” 

She met Sebastian’s eyes, not even bothering to swipe away the tear that rolled down her cheek. The hardness she saw in Sebastian’s eyes filled her with a sense of foreboding, but then he sighed, his shoulders dropping. A look of determination came into his gaze, a spark of hope flaring in her chest. 

“Alright,” he said, spinning his wand artfully in his fingers. He met her gaze. “I guess this is where I prove that I will do literally anything for you, MC. We need a plan.” 

To be continued...

Ivy Montgomery is an OC belonging to @eternalremorse and used with her kind permission.

Taglist: @slytherin-paramour @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @evaslytherpuff @sevprince-91 @loving-him-was-red13 @lucy-withthediamonds-inthesky

[gremmiie]

Wanted to redraw the selection of my Choices MCs

[cyrilphd]

where is Joey Info located?

oh i dont have anything written down except in the server i play him in, i can post that :)

if you wanna know any more let me know and i'll answer hehe

[dutifullynuttywitch]

What if Gaius had his moment of payback?

Bloodbound

Gaius Augustine, Rheya Apostolous

688 words

Rating: T (cw: death)

To: @gaiuskamilah

Happy birthday Jam! I’m so glad I met you through this crazy little fandom! Hope you are having a wonderful b-day!!! I’m incapable of drawing or editing, so I thought I’d gift you a little drabble of our favorite former big bad… what if MC lets him have his moment of retribution?

Gaius steps onto the brightly lit stage, his eyes fixed on the figure before him.

He chuckles bitterly to himself. After centuries of mind control, what was one more moment of pretending?

He roughly throws Kamilah, Andrian and Lily at her feet.

“My goddess, I have found your wayward children, as you wished.”

“Well done, my knight. Keep them to the side while I complete my ritual.”

The first vampire hardly spares him a glance, too engrossed in draining the life energy from the mesmerized, adoring crowd.

Gaius takes advantage of her distraction, inching ever closer to her.

Rheya.

His maker.

The one who had controlled his mind for most of his immortal life.

Soon to be nothing but flecks of dust under his boots.

He surreptitiously reaches for the dagger, but she catches the movement. Suddenly, every muscle in his body freezes. He can’t move a finger.

Rheya’s lips curl into a cruel smile.

“Gaius, my dear,” she purrs, her voice dripping with condescension, “you look troubled, standing like a statue with your new friends. Tell me, were you so terribly unhappy by my side?”

Gaius’s jaw clenches, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“You took everything from me, Rheya. My freedom, my will, my very soul. I will never forgive you for that.”

Rheya’s laughter echoes beyond the lit stage, cold and mocking.

“Forgive me? Oh, Gaius, you were always so naive. You were nothing before I found you. I gave you power, immortality. You should be grateful. On your hands and knees, revering me with everlasting gratitude.”

“Grateful?” Gaius snaps, his eyes blazing with fury, “You turned me into a monster, a puppet for your twisted games. But no more. Tonight, it all ends.”

“You cannot defy me. I am your maker.”

“You may have created me, but you do not own me. Not anymore.”

“What a tender little speech. You were always one for grandstanding, my sweet Gaius.”

Rheya approaches her former soldier and wayward child. She trails a perfectly manicured finger along his cheek, a mocking glint in her eyes.

Suddenly, Rheya stalls. Her eyes grow wide as she struggles to move.

“Not so fun being frozen in place, is it Rheya?”

Magdalene steps out from the shadows, brow creased in concentration. Droplets of sweat fall from the extreme effort required to immobilize a literal goddess.

“Any time now, Gaius.”

She grinds out, not taking her eyes from the now furious Rheya.

He realizes Magdalene was able to undo Rheya’s mind control.

Gaius smirks at the young vampire, admiring her fearlessness, her strength.

He catches movement. Adrian, Kamilah and Lily prepare to attack, should he fail in his task.

That would not happen.

With a swift motion, he draws a black dagger from his coat. It glints under the spotlight, black blood dripping from its sharp point. Its energy spreads rapidly throughout the theater, significantly weakening all the immortals present.

For the first time, Rheya is fearful.

“That… that cannot be…”

“The blood of your beloved. Sweet retribution, do you not think?”

In a blur of movement, Gaius lunges at Rheya, the dagger plunging into her heart.

The goddess gasps, her eyes filled with shock and pain.

“Gaius… you…”

“It’s over, Rheya,” Gaius whispers, his voice filled with a mix of sorrow and relief. “You will never control me again.”

He stands there, gazing as the lifeless body of his maker turns to dust.

Centuries of mind control, violating the very essence of who he was, avenged at last.

A slow smile spreads across his sharp features.

Whether he lived or died now, it didn’t matter.

It was over.

[stillmakingbadchoices]

I’m a little late to the party but who in the hell is this?? Where is the Egyptian Queen I’m used to. Idk this white woman.