#Blood bound

[beetlerings]

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

[blueraineshadows]

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

[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.

[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

[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

[blueraineshadows]

Sebastian Sallow🔺️F!MC🔺️Leander Prewett

11.8k words. Tags: NSFW / Trauma / Alcohol / Angst / Yearning / Dark magic / Anxiety and PTSD / Grief / Gaunt family drama

AI image of the MC created by @newbienewness with thanks 💜

Chapter Master List and Ao3 link

Chapter 17: Perfectly Misaligned

Sebastian

The darkest hours of the night felt like the lonely hours for Sebastian. It seemed as though the rest of the world slumbered in deepest rest, whilst he would battle the shadows that lurked in the corners of his mind. Guilt and shame would come out to play, and old favourites that often liked to torment him were the memories of his early teenage years. In the aftermath of his parent’s passing, he had struggled to find his way, and Solomon had been a thorn in his side throughout his tortured grieving process. Even now, to this day, he was fairly certain that he hadn’t faced the true depth of his loss. Perhaps that is why he clung so desperately to his belief that saving Anne would save him, too. 

After seeing the disturbing artwork that Anne had thought hidden away, the uneasy fear had crept into his bones that Anne was damaged far more deeply than he had first believed. So caught up with his own grief and troubles, perhaps he had not thought to consider that she had her own demons trying to bring her down. He had leaned on her heavily, his guiding light. Perhaps he had been selfish, taking from her and not giving enough back. The thought sobered him, pulling his thoughts downward into a dark spiral that had him pacing the floors of Noctua Gaunt’s old home. 

Back then, Anne and he had been alone. If he had let her down, then Solomon had been the only other person she could turn to. For her, not such a terrible thing because she had always been their uncle’s favourite. She had never felt the back of his hand slamming into her cheek, never felt the iron grip of his fingers in her upper arm whilst being dragged to the old shed. There had been no love lost between him and Solomon. It hadn’t been too far a reach to snuff him out as he had. 

In a choice between his bullying uncle and the new girl at school with the bewitching eyes, he had chosen MC. She had seen him. She listened to him. She made him feel like he could be better, something more. It hadn't even been a choice. 

Entering a room lined with bookcases, furnished with a bureau and arm chairs, Sebastian gazed around, his attention drawn to the family portrait above the fireplace. Moving closer, he studied the faces of the Gaunt siblings, and immediately he could pick out the similarities in MC’s facial features now that he knew what he was looking for. The resemblance to her mother was actually rather striking. How different her life would have been had she been raised within their walls. Would she have been happy? Likely, they would have married her off by now. They would certainly be gloating about the power she possessed, and the notoriety it would bring to their family name. 

Anne’s words came back to him, her accusations that he only wanted MC for the power she held in her veins. He couldn’t deny the lure of such magic, and when he had been a fifteen year old with everything to gain, he had been lured towards her mysterious powers, of course. He could never resist discovering new magic, especially when held an element of the forbidden. He had always considered anything new to learn as an opportunity, a chance to soak up new knowledge was a good thing, and never a waste of time. 

He hadn’t been prepared for the tempting package that ancient magic had come along with. MC had got under his skin, she had kept him awake at night with thoughts of her voice, her eyes, a mouth that he longed to kiss. Any teenage boy could lose an hour or so on daydreams over a girl, but she had stolen his every waking thought there for a while, even now she remained embedded in his psyche. The first girl he had taken to bed, the only one to ever hold his heart in her hands, and he figured she would always be the only one. He could fall into bed with any number of faceless girls, but it wouldn’t mean anything. Other girls were momentary releases, shallow connections that gave him nothing but hollow feelings and a sense of disconnection to himself. Not like her. With MC, there was truth. She made him feel something that transcended all of that, and made him feel like he could be better, more whole as a person. There was a power in that emotional connection that went further than any magical spell one could cast. 

Stroking his fingers against the red scar on his palm, a feeling of resoluteness settled over him. She was the only one he wanted. Anne was wrong, blinded by the darkness that appeared to have swallowed her. MC made his heart pulse with that feeling of being truly alive. When she was close to him, it felt more like home than any four walls ever had. He knew he had fucked up with her, made mistakes, but underneath all the stubborn foolishness and selfish wants, he loved her. Navigating these feelings wasn’t something he could research and learn from a book, he had to learn this path alone and somehow, make her believe that together, they were better. His desire for her remained an ache that lingered, a constant within him, bound to him and strengthened by a promise made as a boy.

And she was out there in the dark searching for his lost sister while he wandered the halls of a house that echoed with the ghosts of its past. 

A glance at the clock revealed the late hour, and she still hadn’t returned. It made him tense, anxious, and he pushed a hand through his hair as the need to do something tingled through his restless bones. Making a snap decision, he strode from the little study and sought out Ominis, finding him dozing in his chair by the fire. He put a hand to his shoulder, gently rousing him. 

“The hour is late,” he said quietly. “I’m restless, old friend. I want to go and find our girls. Will you be alright if I leave?”

Ominis reached out a hand and Sebastian took it. His skin felt cold, and Sebastian felt a glimmer of concern for him. The shadows under his eyes gave him a look that lived up to his name, drawn and ghost-like. 

“I’ve got a terrible feeling,” he said, his voice thin and laced with fatigue. He frowned, his pale eyes like galaxies of ice. “It’s like she has already gone.” 

A chill slid down Sebastian’s spine and he squeezed Ominis’ hand a little tighter. “You must not think like that. Both of them are fighters. They will come back to us. I’m going to find them. Make sure you get some proper rest, and eat something while I am gone. Be ready for our return.” 

Ominis nodded, but the cloak of doom seemed to linger on his pale face. Sebastian tried to suppress his own fear, swallowing it back with promises to Ominis. Fetching a warm robe and taking another restorative potion, he steeled himself to Apparate out and begin his search. 

MC

The throb echoed through her skull, rebounding off the sensitive edges of her existence whilst her stomach seemed to rage and twist violently in a storm of her own making. Every limb felt lethargic, her skin heightened with a triggering sensitivity that made her reluctant to move. Unfortunately, she had no choice but to roll from the comfort of the bed and hit the floor on her knees with a desperate groan. 

As if by magic, a chamber pot was placed beneath her nose, and she released the belly full of tumult that made her shiver uncontrollably. As she retched, her vision clouded with stinging tears, and she felt gentle hands pulling her hair back from her face in soothing strokes. Blinking through the confusion spinning in her head, she tried to glance around at her surroundings, picking out things that she recognised. The changing screen, the soft rug nearby, the chest of drawers lit by the weakened rays of a dawn sunrise. She knew this bedroom, but had no idea of how she had come to be in it.

“Lee,” she choked, gasping as another wave of nausea assaulted her.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m right here,” Leander soothed, a firm hand rubbing her lower back. “Just get it all up. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

She sobbed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek and sniffing. “What happened? How did I get here?” 

“I brought you here. I came and found you,” he said, handing her a neatly folded handkerchief. She risked kneeling up, the room spinning slightly as she looked up at him, slowly taking the linen and pressing it to her mouth. 

She felt sour, disgusting, and she must have looked like it, too. Her mouth felt dry and itchy, her eyes were tight, and her head just rattled with a persistent throb. Leander, on the other hand, looked as impeccably neat and unruffled as ever. His hair was combed, and he was fully dressed and clean shaven. 

She searched through the tangled mess of her memories, trying to pinpoint when he had found her. She remembered Hogsmeade in the rain, the chilling conversation with Anne, and Rosier taking her away back to London. Rosier. 

She groaned and put a hand to her head as she remembered necking drink after drink, his hand at her waist, his lips on her neck. She shuddered and bent over the chamber pot again, dread mingling with the boiling cauldron of her stomach. 

Utterly spent, she tried to get up, legs shaking. Leander helped her get back on the bed, brushing back her hair as she fell back against the pillows. 

“I’ll fill a bath for you,” he said, and pointed towards a cup of water on the nightstand. “In the meantime, you need to drink some fluids. Sip it, though. Don’t gulp it down.” 

He straightened the bed cover, smoothing it at her waist before giving her a warm smile. She lay completely still, a trembling husk of herself, the only thing moving were her eyes as she watched him effortlessly take care of her. She didn’t deserve this treatment. None of it. Shame swamped her and she felt dirty, panic squeezing at her throat as she feared what she may have done last night. 

“How did you find me?” She asked, her voice hoarse. 

“You sent me a message,” he replied, pausing to look down at her. “You were completely out of your mind on drink, and in a most notorious nightclub with dubious company. I came to get you immediately once it became apparent the state you were in.” 

She didn’t miss the flicker of disapproval on his face, nor the underlying tone in his words. Her defences made an attempt to slam up, an overwhelming urge to squirm under his honey-brown eyes making her grit her teeth. That shame made heat creep up into her pale cheeks. She huffed and turned her head, covering up her embarrassment with irritation. “I sense a lecture incoming.” 

“No, no lecture,” he said, moving towards the changing screen. “I’m sure the hangover is punishment enough. That, and having to face your friend, Rosier, again.”

She stiffened, her hand shifting awkwardly across her torso and up to her neck. She risked a glance in Leander's direction, but he was now filling the bathtub before the fireplace with a spell, a merry fire crackling in the hearth warming the room. She kept her silence, hating that she couldn’t remember. Alcohol was a wickedly terrible thing in its aftermath. 

Disapproving he may be, but his hands and eyes remained kind as he assisted her out of bed and handed her a soft drying sheet. “Have a soak,” he urged, his touches respectful. “I’ll put some toast and tea on. I need to head into the office soon, but take all the time you need. You’re welcome here, as always.” 

Remaining close lipped, she watched him leave the room, and it was only when he closed the door behind him that she allowed her shoulders to slump. Feeling desolate and foolish, she stripped and allowed her body to sink beneath the pleasantly warm bath water. Leaning back against the edge, her knees poking up out of the water, she closed her eyes and tried to think past the constant throb.

Surely, she wouldn’t have given herself to Rosier. He was pretty, yes, but he was also a scoundrel, and Sebastian’s friend. Groaning again, she rubbed her face. Sebastian was going to be pissed off. She had left in search of Anne, and would return empty handed after getting roaring drunk and potentially making a fool of herself. Not to mention spending another night in Leander’s bed. 

Her gaze drifted towards the unmade bed. Had he slept beside her? Had they…? No. He wouldn’t have. Not with her so out of it. He was too much of a gentleman. Nevertheless, her hand drifted down between her thighs and she touched tentative fingers to herself. She didn’t feel sensitive, and there had been no physical residue of him finishing when she had removed her clothing. Him, or Rosier. She bit her lip, almost bringing herself to tears for having to try and figure this out. She shouldn’t have put herself in such a vulnerable situation. As if things were not complicated enough. 

Sitting up, she took the bar of lavender soap and began to wash the stench of cigarettes and liquor from herself, scrubbing harder against her skin than normal as though she could erase her stupidity. She was soaping her hair when a knock sounded on the door. It opened a slither, but Leander didn’t come in. 

“There is tea and toast on the table for you, or I could bring in a tray. I need to go to the Ministry. Can I fetch you anything else before I leave?” 

Trying to think clearly, she cleared her throat. “You can come in,” she called, swiping suds from her forehead before crossing her arms across her breasts and bringing her knees up higher. The door swung wider. 

He stepped cautiously through the door, his gaze falling to her and his cheeks instantly flushing. He averted his gaze and straightened his tie. “Oh, sorry, I er…I can go fetch the tray in. Give you a moment to be decent.” 

She swallowed. “Nothing you haven't seen before. I was wondering if you could pass me the jug so I can rinse my hair,” she said softly. 

“Oh! Well, of course,” he said, hurrying to fetch the porcelain jug and bringing it to her. He held it out and she met his gaze, a pang of something stabbing through her chest at the softness she saw there. 

“Would you mind?” She indicated her hair and tipped her head back slightly. “You’re more likely to get all of the suds out if you do it.” 

“As you wish,” he said, coming even closer. “Shuffle forward a bit.” 

She did so, careful to maintain a little modesty, and he dipped the jug into the bath water. She closed her eyes as he placed his palm at her forehead, pouring the water gently over her hair before scooping up more. The action was soothing against her skull and she sighed as the water and suds slid down her back. If she opened her eyes and looked at him, she knew what she would see. Guilt tugged at her, shame for being so utterly selfish when it came to him. Feeling low like this, the need to have someone take care of her had her taking advantage of his kindness. It wasn’t fair, and she knew it. He wanted more from her, more than she could ever give. She should have left him alone, but she couldn’t. Not when he had the power to soothe the dark loneliness that harboured in her chest.

“You’re too kind, Leander Prewett,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. 

He remained silent and tipped another jug load onto her head, his hand smoothing along her long locks, his touch grazing the skin of her back. She shivered and he pulled away, placing the jug on the hearth. “There, all done,” he said, keeping his gaze averted. “Hopefully you are feeling a bit better.” 

She nodded, but the hollow chasm in her chest suggested otherwise. “I am, and that’s all thanks to you. I’m sorry to have been a burden on you, especially so soon after leaving the hospital. How are you feeling now?” 

“All mended,” he said, drying his hands. His smile was tight. “How did you end up drunk in a club with Rosier? Where is Sebastian?”

“Recovering from a bad case of Crucio,” she said, staring into the bath water, holding herself tighter. “I left him with Ominis, and then I tried to find Anne.” 

He turned to face her. “Crucio? Merlin’s bloody beard! Why? Did you find Anne? The Aurors are looking for her, too.” 

Her lips trembled, the weight of it all pressing down upon her now that the effects of the alcohol had worn off. Drinking to forget was okay in the moment, but all the problems lay in wait, pouncing on you with renewed vigour when you were suffering from your own foolishness. Forgoing her modesty, she pressed her hands to her face, the swell of it all threatening to burst out of her, attempting to try and hold it all in and failing as a shuddering sob escaped. Leander had become someone who seemed to effortlessly pierce the barriers she erected around herself. How easy it had become to reveal things to him. It was trust, she realised. Looking up at his honey brown eyes finally, she knew she could tell him the truth. 

“I found her,” she said, her voice wobbling. “But, gods, part of me wishes I hadn’t.” 

“Hey, hey,” Leander soothed, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around her, soaking his perfectly lovely suit in the process. “You’re okay. It’s alright.” 

Pressing her face into his chest, she let go of the barriers, tears leaking from her eyes. Everywhere she went, she walked a fine line. She had thought the oppressive walls of prison had been hard, but out here where she could walk in the sunlight, it seemed that the shadows lurked unseen, stealing the freedom and the warmth, leaving her uncertain and small despite the power that slumbered impatiently in her bones. Constantly on edge, she felt drained. Here, with him, felt like a safe harbour. 

“I’m not sure anything will ever be alright again, Lee,” she said, her voice thin. “Getting out of Azkaban has been harder than I expected. The whole world either hates me, or wants me for my power. I don’t know if I can do this. Anne said I would destroy anyone who got too close to me. What if she was right? I’m a freak, Lee. Nobody should have this much power, especially me. Maybe Azkaban is the best place for me, shut away in the dark where I won’t be able to hurt anyone.” 

“Don’t you ever say that,” he said firmly, lifting her chin to look down at her. He shook his head, his eyes pained. “You did not belong there, MC, and you are most definitely not a freak. Don’t ever think you are not good enough.” 

She wished she could believe that, but her strength and self belief seemed to have melted into the bath water with the soap and grime. “You need to remove your rose tinted glasses, Lee.” 

“No, you need to get back that fighting spirit I know you have in there,” he said, his hand gripping her jaw, his eyes determined. Whilst his hold was firm, the sweep of his thumb was delicate. “The MC I know and remember, is the girl who spent hours of her free time practising how to roll her balls perfectly across the Summoners Court board, despite saying the game was ridiculous. You hated to lose, and sought me out to show you my tricks so you could beat everyone at it, including me.”

“You let me win,” she accused, her hungover brain fog sorting through memories to a time that felt so far out of reach now. Sunny days in the grounds of Hogwarts, laughter, friendship, and all despite the burden of her trials and the goblin rebellion. 

He huffed in amusement, his eyes so warm. “I did not. Maybe to start with because I wanted you to like me, but then when things got really competitive, my thirst to win got the better of me. You still beat me, though, fair and square. I think that enforced the massive crush I had on you.” 

“You still have a crush on me, Prewett, whence the rose tinted glasses,” she said, the hint of a smile ghosting across her lips. 

“We both know it is more than a crush at this point,” he murmured, a flicker of sadness darkening his gaze. “Somehow, we have become tangled up in something that defies explanation. I know you don’t feel the same way I do, and yet, we seem to end up in situations like this. I don’t think I could ever deny you, no matter how much it may hurt me.” 

Her eyes burned and her throat felt thick as she swallowed. The twist of pain in her chest robbed her of breath momentarily as she stared at him. Safety, warmth, trust, stability. It was all right there in front of her, if she could but reach for it and take it for her own. But, it would be wrong. 

“I’m not being fair to you,” she said, the truth of it searing her throat. “I know how you feel, and yet I come here and take from you when in truth, I should do the right thing and let you go. I’m dangerous. People get hurt, or die around me. I would never forgive myself if…” 

Choking on the words, the terror of imagining Death stealing him away because of her darkness making her clutch at his soaked waistcoat, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to shove the image away. She felt his forehead press to hers, the warmth of him radiating over her rapidly cooling skin. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he vowed, his breath ghosting across her cheek. “Even if you can’t return it, you have my affections.” 

“No, you shouldn’t do that. You need to live your life,” she insisted, and yet she wasn’t letting him go, her hands still clinging to him. “You don’t deserve to live under my shadow.” 

“You have to stop trying to push people away who care about you,” he said, releasing his hold on her jaw. His hand lingered though, his long fingers grazing her neck. “You don’t have to fight all of this on your own. People care about you, MC, and that is not something you can control. Let them help you.” 

He glanced away, hesitating, his teeth worrying at his lower lip. “There’s something I need to tell you, something important.” 

She immediately went rigid, her body instantly expecting the worst. “What is it?” 

“While I was in the hospital, I had a visitor,” he said, eyeing her carefully. “A woman dressed as a nurse, but that’s not who she really was. I think she came to get a closer look at me, to make some kind of contact, because she had clearly been watching us from a distance.” 

“Us?” MC frowned, her thoughts ticking rapidly. Then, the memory of the robed woman following her down the corridor that day flashed behind her eyes. Her heart quickened, the feeling of threat increasing. What new danger was this? “Someone followed me from your room that day, but they vanished. I think it was a woman.” 

His hand cupped her face. “Don’t panic,” he soothed. “She spoke to me, and her intent was not to harm. It was your birth mother. Elizabeth Gaunt. She looked me right in the eye and asked me to take care of you.” 

If she hadn’t been clinging to him, she feared she may have drifted through the bath water, a strange feeling of weightlessness sweeping over her that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of alcohol in her system. “My…my mother?” 

“I know you’ve had a lot thrown at you lately, but this could be a good thing. MC, she looked just like you. She seemed to care about your safety.” 

“Not enough to speak with me herself,” she said, her blood pulsing so fast she felt faint. “I don’t understand. What else did she say?” 

“She called Rookwood a stain on this earth,” he said, his thumb still stroking her cheek. “She said she had done her research on me, and she knew who you were. I get the impression she has been watching us for a while.” 

MC couldn’t pin down how she felt about this, the confusion seeming to blend with an elation that her mother had found her, but there was also a pain. Why hadn’t she approached her sooner? Why hadn’t she come to help her? Instead, she had lingered in the shadows just watching. She shivered, the bath water now chilled, weary from the night before and yet more emotional webs to fight through. 

“Are you alright?” Leander’s eyes were concerned, his touch gentle. 

“I…I need to think,” she said, glancing down at herself. “I ought to put some clothes on, too.” 

“Of course,” he nodded, a blush sweeping across his cheeks. He withdrew from her, extracting the remaining warmth that left her shivering. She wrapped her arms around herself as he gathered up the drying sheet and held it up, his face turned respectfully away. “Here, get yourself dry and warm. Your clothes are behind the changing screen.” 

She stood, water dripping from her body as she stepped out of the tub and into the waiting drying sheet. Her eyes burned with tears, her shivering not only from the chill as he wrapped the sheet around her. His simple acts of taking care of her seemed to strip away everything, leaving her raw and vulnerable. Her inner child craved it with a fierceness that made her ache, whilst the icy walls she had crafted shook on their foundations, but she remained rigid and silent.  

It was only once he had left the room, closing the door quietly behind him that she allowed the tears to properly fall again. They tracked down her cheeks as she forced her hands to move, drying herself down and dressing. It made her heart squeeze even more when she found her clothes, clean and neatly folded on the chair. He thought of everything, and it made the wretchedness twist all the sharper. 

Fastening her wand holster to her thigh, she took a deep breath. Her head throbbed, but she had to resist wallowing in her own self pity. She wouldn’t find answers that way. Avoiding thoughts of having to face Sebastian, she braced herself to eat something and tackle the mystery of her roots. Today, she would make an effort to find out.

Sebastian 

His stomach growled in protest, hunger making him feel even more irritated than his circumstances could claim credit for as he stalked through Knockturn Alley. He was cold and damp after travelling through various known locations in the Highlands looking for the Ashwinder camp, but turning up nothing. It wasn’t unusual for the camp to move around, especially when the threat of discovery was higher, but they had clearly located somewhere he couldn’t recall, or knew nothing about. It irked him, no closer to finding Anne or MC, and nobody to hex into talking. So, he had returned to London in the hopes of gleaning some answers. 

The morning saw the slightly more respectable folk moving through the Alley, and that wasn’t saying much. These folk would still likely stab you in the back than wish you a merry morning. At least there was a pale gleam of sunlight rather than the misty rain of Scotland that still had his robe clinging uncomfortably to his legs. Stopping at a tea shop that passed his standards to an acceptable level, he purchased a cinnamon bun and mug of tea to stave off the hunger pangs. He ate quickly, almost scalding his tongue as he gulped his tea. Time was pressing. Casting a swift drying charm on his clothes, he left the tea shop and made his way towards the Black Rose. 

Using the rear entrance, he avoided the exclusive back room and made his way up the stairs. The whore’s rooms were silent at this hour, the girls getting their heads down to sleep before they would be up and selling their wares later in the day. The stairs creaked under his boots, and he kept his steps light as he made his way to the room he shared with Rosier. He had not slept here in a while, but he hoped Rosier would still be crashing here. 

Entering quietly, he saw the spread eagled form of his partner in crime snoring softly on his bed, his boots discarded haphazardly on the floorboards, his robe slung over the bed frame. He reeked of whiskey and perfume, and a match booklet on the floor near his boots told Sebastian that he had spent the evening getting blootered in The Alyssum club. 

Rolling his eyes at Rosier’s insatiable appetite for booze and women, Sebastian sat down on the edge of his own made bed and pushed his hands through his hair as he eyed the snoring man. Waking Rosier after a heavy session was always a challenge, but he needed to ask him what he knew about Anne. 

The beds were placed fairly close together in the confines of the room, and he placed his booted foot against the frame of Rosier’s and gave it a few sharp shoves. It rocked and creaked, but Rosier snored on. Sighing again, Sebastian stood and poked at his arm, shaking his shoulder firmly. “Hey, swizzler, wake up!” 

Rosier groaned and made a pathetic attempt to swipe Sebastian’s hand away, but Sebastian wasn’t about to give up. Grasping both of Rosier’s shoulders, he shook him hard. “Wake up, you damned fool!” 

Rosier opened his eyes, blinking blearily. There was one particular skill that you needed to hone as an Ashwinder, and that was the ability to shake yourself out of a stupor if trouble came calling, which was highly likely when you were in this trade. Rosier clapped eyes on Sebastian and immediately became alert, an edge of panic lighting his eyes as he held both hands up, spluttering. 

“Woah, easy, mate. Easy! I never touched her, I kept my promise, I swear! I kept it in my pants, just like you said.” 

Sebastian frowned down at him, the muscles in his stomach tensing. “What are you talking about?” He asked slowly. 

Rosier stared up at him, stubble darkening his chin and his eyes bloodshot from booze. “Ah, shit,” he groaned, wincing. He eyed Sebastian warily. “Is MC not with you? Maybe they haven’t released her from the lock up yet.” 

Sebastian’s mouth tightened and he grabbed the front of Rosier’s rumpled shirt. “What do you mean the lock up? What the fuck are you talking about? Answers, Rosier. Now!” 

“Okay, okay,” Rosier nodded quickly, still holding up both hands. “Merlin’s balls, I told her you’d be pissed off, but she kept downing the gins like a trooper. I get why you like her, Sallow. MC’s got spirit.” 

“She got drunk with you?” Sebastian was incredulous, letting Rosier go and straightening up, his gaze catching the match booklet on the floor again. He bent to retrieve it, holding it up. “You took her here?” 

Rosier nodded. “She got all sad after talking with your sister, and asked me to take her somewhere fun.” 

Sebastian’s eyes bulged, his fist crushing the match booklet into a crumpled mess. He had been searching all of Scotland for MC, and she had been necking gin with Rosier all night. A flash of fury lit his blood, but he remained calm. He had been looking for answers, and by gods he was going to get some. 

“She spoke to Anne?” He asked through gritted teeth. “You’d better start from the beginning, Rosier, and tell me everything.” 

Leander 

The tall stacks of files and books loomed over them, the weight of history adding to the silence of the Ministry archives as Andrew spread out his findings on the table top. The lamp light shone off Andrew’s fair hair, his gaze flitting nervously towards MC as she leaned over the documents, her face a pale, closed mask as she pulled one of the parchments closer toward her. She had been quiet since they had left Leander’s flat, insisting she wanted to accompany him here despite the hangover she was suffering through. 

He had kept an eye on her as Harrington quizzed her over Anne, sending two Aurors to Hogsmeade to investigate the abandoned house overlooking the cemetery on her word that Anne was being held there. Her duty to her probation met, Leander had whisked MC into the archives to meet with Andrew, the questions that lay heavy in her eyes demanded answers, and she was determined to dig them out. 

Whatever weakness she had succumbed to in the bathtub seemed to be under control now, the familiar grit and strength visible in the set of her jaw as she read the parchment. As much as Leander was glad to see her being her strong self, he couldn’t help but ache at the vulnerability she had displayed to him. There had been something in her eyes, in the way she had clung to him, that made him believe she felt something for him. If only she would bend to it. If only she could love him as he loved her. 

“You said there were more of these letters from Mrs Sallow?” She asked, her gaze lifting to Andrew as she put the parchment back down. 

Andrew nodded and sifted through the papers, handing her another. “These are only the ones I could get my hands on. Each letter requesting access to the Department of Mysteries and being denied. There is also this ledger, which notes a few visits to the archives by Mrs Sallow, accompanied by Miriam Fig. They were definitely researching something together, and the symbol on the final letter matches the one you drew for Lee.”

MC nodded, her face drawing into a frown of concentration. “Anne was telling me the truth,” she mused. “The Sallows knew about ancient magic. Do you know if they were ever successful in gaining entry to the Department of Mysteries?” 

Andrew shook his head. “That’s where my jurisdiction ends I’m afraid. Anything the department holds on ancient magic, or this Circle of Avalon, is kept firmly behind closed doors. If I can’t be given access, then I am fairly confident that Mrs Sallow and Mrs Fig were never granted permission either. What goes on behind those doors is a closely guarded secret.”  

Leander pulled a book closer, his eyes scanning the page Andrew had opened it up to. The symbol for the Circle of Avalon was there at the top, along with mention of witch trials in Muggle courts, the charges of dark sacrifices making him wince. Magic and muggles had a troubled history, both sides telling the stories very differently, but the dark arts were nothing to be dismissed. They existed, and magical folk were known to practise it. It kept the Auror Office viable. Even humans with the deeper wisdom of magic could be fools when it came to power and the abuse of it. 

“Do you think this Circle is dangerous?” He asked, turning the page to see an ink illustration of women hanging from nooses on a scaffold. 

“I can’t believe Miriam Fig was involved in anything dark,” MC said, shaking her head. “Which in turn means that Mrs Sallow was of like mind.” 

“Sebastian finds it easy enough to dabble in the arts,” Leander muttered. 

She stiffened, her chin lifting. “He had his reasons.” 

Their eyes locked across the table, none of the vulnerability showing in her eyes now. She would always defend Sallow, even when it was him she came to when she needed help, it would always be Sebastian who laid claim to her. There lay the real reason she held herself back from him. Caught in his web, all the time Sallow pulled his strings, she would bend to his whims. Leander figured he would always feel bitter about it, feeling as though any chance he may have of being able to love her fully would always drown under the bond those two had. 

Dropping his gaze to the book, he turned it to face her, forcing his thoughts to remain focused on the matter at hand. “I don’t know how well read you are concerning muggle witch trials, but until fairly recently these trials were held regularly up and down the country. Our kind were hunted out and executed. Most were innocent, but some did practise the dark arts. Aurors tried to keep a certain amount of control over our own, but Parliament ignored any pleas the Minister may have made about keeping our own justice.” 

“I have read some of the history, and being raised around muggles, you hear the stories,” she said, her gaze dropping to the illustration of the hangings. 

Leander tapped a finger to the text beside the drawing. “This was a high profile case in both the magical and muggle world. The Pendle Witches.” 

“I’ve heard of them,” she said quietly, her throat working as he moved his finger to the symbol drawn on the bottom of the page. She brushed back some loose strands of hair and sighed. “Just because the symbol is there, does not prove that this Circle is made of dark witches and wizards. We don’t have enough evidence.” 

“You found out about this Circle from Gaunt family journals, right?” Andrew asked carefully. “It’s not too much of a stretch to consider the possibility that dark arts could be involved.” 

“Not all Gaunts are evil,” she bristled, the taut expression on her face making her appear even more pale and drawn. Andrew flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. She shook her head, her mouth a tight line. “Regardless of the true nature of this Circle of Avalon, they have ties to ancient magic, and I need to know more. Miriam Fig believed in the good that ancient magic could do, I refuse to believe she would meddle with dark arts, and it would seem that her and Sebastian’s mother were friends. Both of these women were killed researching all of this, and I want to finish what they started. I need to do it.” 

“I’m not sure how much more I can dig out of here,” Andrew said, the regret plain on his face. “I have to admit, I am also intrigued to learn more. The history and lore surrounding your abilities is fascinating. In the pursuit of knowledge, I can understand the tenacity that a Ravenclaw such as Mrs Sallow would possess, despite the risks.” 

“Someone was determined to silence them, perhaps going to the extremes of killing them both,” MC said bitterly. “Such a waste. If only we knew who would go to such lengths.” 

“Not to mention the lengths that higher ups are prepared to go through in order to keep information hidden here, too,” Leander said, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “You can't help but wonder what it is they are hiding. Where else can we look?” 

MC sighed and put her hands to her head, staring at all the information Andrew had found, and yet it only raised more questions. “Most of the people who know about this are either sworn to secrecy, or they are dead,” she said, lifting her gaze to Leander again. “There are some people I can speak to via their portraits who know quite a lot about ancient magic, especially Professor Rackham. He was a Seer. I would bet a few galleons he has heard about the Circle of Avalon. How did you fare in getting me access to Hogwarts, Lee?” 

“We just need to make Professor Black aware when we intend to pay a visit,” Leander said, touching his hand to his tie. 

“How about today?” The determination on her face told him she wasn’t expecting a refusal. 

“I shall send the owl,” he replied with a nod. 

A nostalgic look crossed Andrew’s face as he glanced between them. “Returning to Hogwarts,” he said softly. “I can only imagine walking those halls again.” 

“I used to think the same when the Aurors hauled me away to Azkaban,” MC said bitterly, a darkness lingering on her face as she touched her fingers to the prisoner tattoo on her neck. “It will be strange to enter there as a convicted criminal. I’m sure Professor Black will have a few choice words to say on the matter.” 

“Well, you won’t be going alone,” Leander said firmly. “I will be right there beside you, and no matter what the headmaster has to say on the matter, he need only know that we are there on important Ministry business. Anything else is between you and these Keepers.” 

The look she gave him still had the shadow of those cold walls she held about herself, but the faintest glimmer of the vulnerability she allowed him to see lingered in the depths of her sky blue gaze. He hoped she could see the truth in his eyes, the words he left unspoken in front of their old school chum. He had meant what he had said to her back in his flat. There wasn’t a lot he would deny her, no matter the cost. It was both inevitable and terrifying, but that was the depth he had fallen to. 

“Well, I wish you luck in your pursuit of truth,” Andrew said, giving Leander a pointed look as he continued. “Just be careful. Clearly, this kind of research is a risk.” 

“Don’t worry, Andrew. If anyone dares to try and stop us, they will have me to contend with,” MC said firmly. Avoiding any further eye contact with Leander, she gestured to the letters written in Mrs Sallow’s hand. “May I take copies of these?” 

“I already prepared you some, along with the excerpts from the texts,” Andrew said, slipping a file from the pile and handing it over to her. 

Her smile was genuine, stripping away the shadows in her eyes and highlighting the beauty she possessed. Combined with her next words, it brought a pink flush to Andrew’s cheeks.

“You are a star, Larson. Thank you.” 

As they exited the Ministry, MC was quiet, her face resolute. Walking the street in search of a secluded spot to Apparate, her eyes were everywhere. Leander took note of the finely dressed ladies and gentleman going about their business, listening to the rumble of a carriage rolling over the paved road, certain they were both looking for the same thing. A woman in a robe. Knowing that you were being watched gave one a strange feeling, like delicate fingers touching the back of the neck. Every face became suspicious.

“Will your partner not be accompanying us?” MC asked as they entered a narrow alleyway. The sunlight barely reached the rough ground here, the brick walls towering upwards. 

Leander had allowed Montgomery in on a few details to do with MC, agreeing to let her assist, but he still clung to the feeling that this was his responsibility. As they paused, turning to face each other, he couldn’t help the jealous need to have MC all to himself. He already had to share her with Sallow, and his greed burned hot in his belly. Shameful, yes, but hard to deny. 

“No, it will just be us,” he said, holding out his hands to her. “Is that alright?” 

She stared at him for the longest time, her eyes guarded. Then, she nodded, her hands taking hold of his. She felt cold, and his thumbs instinctively caressed against her skin as he offered her a reassuring smile. 

“Take us back to Hogwarts,” she said, her voice low and hoarse. 

Tightening his hold on her hands, he envisioned the sweep of Hogwarts Valley, the winding road that led towards the castle, and the great pillars of the entrance topped with hogs. London vanished around them, the sharp pull behind his navel making him grunt as they travelled hundreds of miles in the blink of an eye, landing in a much chillier and fog shrouded Scotland. 

Reluctantly releasing her hands, they both turned to gaze across to the great castle reaching towards the sky through the fog. The surrounding trees still clung to the last remnants of their red and golden crowns, the ground carpeted with the autumn fall. The air was fresh, clean, more wholesome than the rotten smog of the city. As they began to walk, side by side, Leander felt that familiar comfort stealing over him, a feeling that only the magic of this place could create. 

“It never fails does it,” he murmured, the hint of a smile touching his lips as he gazed towards Hogwarts. 

She slowly shook her head, her own memories shifting in her eyes. “Of all the places I’ve ever laid my head, this one felt the safest, the most like home,” she said. “I’ve yet to find anywhere quite like it. Perhaps the closest I ever came to feeling protected was your cottage by the sea. That held the same kind of warmth.” 

His smile widened. “I’m glad it could be a safe harbour for you.” 

“I think it may have had something to do with the company,” she said, the barest hint of a smirk appearing as she glanced up at him. She took a few more steps, her face turning more solemn again. “I don’t deserve it, you know, the kindness you give me. I will only hurt you in the end, and it’s the last thing I want for you.” 

“Neither of us know what lies before us, anything could happen,” he said, feeling the torn chasm inside of him give way a little more as she tried to push him back. “Like I said this morning, let people help you. You don’t have to be alone, and I choose to stand beside you like this.” 

“Just don’t be afraid to walk away when you have to,” she said, her gaze averted. “That day will come, and I won’t blame you.” 

As they walked closer towards Hogwarts, he considered the differences in their childhoods. He had the comfort and benefits of a family in his background, a stability that allowed him to grow into the man he had become. For her, she had faced everything alone, and anyone who came close either left her or died. He could understand her natural reaction to isolate herself behind her icy walls, pushing away those who could just as easily leave like all the others. Even Sebastian. 

Despite the blood bond she had made with him, she had not run to him when things had crumbled last night. Even today, she had not been desperate to run back to him. For all his worries about her choosing Sebastian over him, he considered the possibility that she would just vanish and leave all of them behind, choosing neither of them. It made him shiver, the fear of her slipping away to some place he couldn’t reach her, alone and lost in her own darkness. 

“Promise me something,” he said, pausing before the entrance to the castle grounds, the fog curling up from the lake to drift around their feet. He touched a hand to her sleeve, almost as though to prevent her from blending into the mist and fading from his view. “If you ever make the decision to leave, don’t go without saying goodbye to me. Don’t just disappear on me, okay? I couldn’t bear it.” 

Her eyes darkened with that vulnerability and she swallowed hard. “Trust me, Lee. You are one of the few people in this world I care enough about to make that promise easily. As much as the thought of saying goodbye makes me want to choke, I would do that for you. I won’t just disappear, I promise, and if I do, then know it wasn’t by my own choice.” 

“You know I would look for you in that instance.” 

She met his gaze, the shadow of a smile on her lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, and just so you know, I would do the same if the situation was reversed. You’re my Auror. I still haven’t forgiven that bitch, Luella, for nearly killing you in those tunnels. I won’t forget either.” 

He blushed, seeing the way her eyes narrowed with her intent, warmth swelling inside of him at her words. “I’m your Auror?” He smirked, his chest pushing out a little. 

“Of course, you dragged me from the maw of darkness and removed my chains. You saved me, and continue to do so despite my unworthiness. You’re my Auror,” she said, reaching to adjust his tie and smooth her hands over the shoulders of his robe. “Now, escort your wayward prisoner into the castle, Auror Prewett. Our old headmaster awaits.” 

“You are not my prisoner,” he reminded her softly. 

But, maybe he was hers. She made it so easy to love her, it drove him crazy that she couldn’t be his. 

“Yes, well, I have a feeling Professor Black may not see it that way,” she sighed, taking his hand and placing it on her upper arm before surrendering her wand towards him. “Escort me as though you have this under control. I’m dangerous. I know it, and they know it. Make them feel safe whilst I walk the halls.” 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, his heart breaking a little as he stared at her wand. “You saved this school, remember?” 

“When you do bad things, people forget what came before,” she said, her eyes sad, but knowing. “They only remember the wrong that you did, and as far as anyone is concerned, I killed people. I killed an Auror, and the mark on my neck is a reminder to all of what I am capable of.” 

“You are more than that, MC, and you know it,” he said, reluctantly taking her wand and tucking it safely away with his own.

“You really are determined to see me through those rose tinted glasses, aren’t you? I should admire your unshakable faith in me, even if it is misplaced.” 

“Do you have faith in me?” He countered. 

She stared at him. “Yes, I do.” 

Those three little words meant more to him than she would ever know. All his life he had strived to be someone capable, someone who lived up to the traits of his Gryffindor house. Becoming an Auror had instilled some confidence into him, but to have someone as rare and beautiful as her believe in him filled with him a warmth that could almost move him to tears. Unable to find words to express it, his hand gave her arm a squeeze, his throat choked up as he bent to press a kiss to her forehead. She was still staring at him, and he fought the desire to press another kiss to her lips. 

Managing a smile, he nodded towards the school, clearing his throat and dragging back his focus on their reason for being here. “Come on, let’s see if we can get some answers for you.” 

Sebastian 

The early hour probably meant it wasn’t wise to hit the bottle, but his fury seethed in burning coils and he needed to drown it out, suffocate it before he did something really stupid. He poured the whiskey into a glass on the bar top, having secured a bottle for himself after storming from the room upstairs. He flexed his hand, the knuckles smarting slightly after he had slammed his fist into Rosier’s jaw. His temper had got the better of him, and Rosier hadn’t thrown any punches back. He’d merely tackled Sebastian down onto the bed, apologising for getting MC drunk, apologising for letting her be taken away by an Auror. 

Not just any Auror, either. Fucking Prewett. Which meant that she wasn’t thrown into the Auror lock up for the night, and more likely tucked away somewhere cosy with that fucking smug git.

His fury surged and he threw his glass back again, the whiskey burning a trail down his throat and settling into the tense pit of his stomach. She had been gone all night, and still no sign of her this morning. She had to be with him. 

He had thought they had been getting somewhere, they had been growing closer, he had been winning her back to him. Why hadn’t she come to him? Why stay with Rosier and drink herself into such a state? Surely, Anne had not got to her so deeply. His sister could spit venom, he knew that first hand, but MC was made of tougher stuff than she looked. What could Anne have said to her to make her stay away like this? Why did MC leave Anne to the mercy of the Ashwinders rather than bring her home?

Fear fed his fury. Nothing was ever simple. He threw another mouthful of whiskey into his throat and winced at the burn, his eyes dark with his thoughts as he glared into the glass. Just like his uncle, he hoped to see the answers in the bottom, but they would never show up. Self loathing dripped through his veins. Just like his uncle, he had resorted to using his fists because he had been displeased, hitting one of the few people he could call a mate. 

“Fuck this shit,” he groaned, leaning his elbows on the bar and pushing his hands into his hair. 

“Life givin’ you a kickin’, Sallow?” 

Sebastian glanced up, the hardened face of Jez, the barkeep, stared down at him. He was a tall bloke, thin, all angles and boney joints, with a long pale face and dark eyes. He might look like a breeze could blow him away, but he took no prisoners when it came to trouble in the bar, his spider leg fingers possessing an iron grip that bit into flesh as he hauled you out on your backside for daring to mess up his bar. 

“You could say that,” he huffed, pouring a fresh measure into his glass. 

Jez eyed the bottle. “You plan on emptying that today?” 

The bottle remained half full, or half empty, depending on one’s mindset, and Sebastian figured today was a half empty kind of day. He shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, grimacing. 

Jez shook his head. “Either Rookwood has put the boot in, or it’s a damned woman,” he guessed, his black eyes narrowing. “Did daddy find out you were giving his baby girl the blanket hornpipe?” 

“No,” Sebastian scowled, roughly pushing his hair back. “That’s long over, and best forgotten. It’s family business…private.” 

He fixed Jez with a meaningful look, not wanting to unburden his fucked up life to someone who would likely whisper into another’s ear. Jez arched one ebony black eyebrow as he folded his tea towel, draping it over his scrawny shoulder. 

“If you say so, lad. But, I’m watching you. Any trouble, and you and the pretty boy are out. Don’t care who pays the room rate,” he warned. 

Sick of these arseholes dictating what he could and couldn’t do, he dug into his pocket and pulled out some coins, slamming enough down onto the bar top to cover the cost of the whiskey. “I’ll save you the trouble of evicting me, Jez,” he growled, slipping from the bar seat and draining the remaining contents of his glass. “See you around.” 

The London air felt thick and heavy, the lingering smog clinging to the stench of the city and carrying a chill that made Sebastian turn his collar up as he strode through Knockturn Alley. Ignoring all he passed, he made it to Diagon Alley before he felt a strange sensation on the back of his neck, turning to glance over his shoulder, his gaze taking in the wizards and witches moving about their day. Nothing seemed out of place, but the creeping sensation of being watched stayed with him as he headed further down the cobbled street. 

The whiskey burned in his belly, his frustration and anger still sizzling in his veins. He sifted through his thoughts, wondering who might be persuaded to give up Prewett’s address. He had to live in the city somewhere, close to the Ministry, close to his happy, little circle of friends. Nice, dependable, Prewett, with the good job, outstanding moral fibre, and the smug ability to offer MC something that Sebastian couldn’t ever imagine possessing. 

A safe, real home. 

Sebastian blinked, the backs of his eyes actually stinging. He rubbed at them, pausing a moment to lean against a brick wall. He refused to cry, sucking back his emotions and pressing them deep, he took some steadying breaths and turned his attention to a family gathered outside a nearby shop. 

The little girl was pleading for her parents to let her have a cat, pointing excitedly at a basket of kittens in the window. He could see the way the mother doted over the girl, stroking her hair affectionately as the father explained that the time for a familiar would come when she left for Hogwarts. Sebastian’s attention shifted to the boy, older than the girl, his face more serious as he listened to his father, nodding in agreement, his gaze filled with the admiration and respect that came from a loyal son. 

The twist of pain in his chest made Sebastian gulp, and he turned his head away from the loving family, feeling the black emptiness in his chest swallow up whatever warmth the whiskey had given to him. The barren wasteland of life felt expansive and cold, gripping at him with long fingers and dragging him ruthlessly through the hard grit, and him helpless to stop it. The shadowy wraiths of guilt and shame mocked him, tangling up with the tempting devil that made him want to hurt, destroy, obliterate. He clenched his hands, the desire to choke the life out of something making beads of sweat stand out on his forehead. 

Everything was so fucked up, and he needed someone to blame. He needed to lash out, rip everything away and make it all stop. He just wanted the pain to stop. 

As he tried to calm his racing pulse, his breathing quick and shallow, his gaze caught on the slender form of a robed figure standing in a shadowed corner, watching him. The hood was too low to make out a face, but he assumed it was a woman. Then her head tilted, and he caught a glimpse of ebony hair, pale skin. 

“MC?” He whispered it, like a prayer. 

She turned, melting away into the narrow passageway that led between two shops, her pale, grey robe billowing out behind her. No, it couldn’t be her. It wouldn’t make sense. Would it? This could be a trap. 

If anyone asked him, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them why he pushed himself away from the wall and crossed the street to follow her. His booted feet carried him forward, his heart and mind still racing, but cold curiosity won out. 

The alley was winding, the paved walk tidy and not unpleasant compared to those found in the muggle streets. He caught a flicker of her robe as she turned up ahead, and his pace quickened. He rounded the bend and stopped in a courtyard with two exits. He glanced between the two, uncertain, and then she appeared in one. He caught the flash of a pale cheek, maybe a glimpse of a satisfied smile, before she backed away. 

“Wait,” he muttered, feeling slightly foolish now as he hurried across the courtyard after her. 

Through more alleyways, he followed her, unable to give up despite the creeping certainty that this was not MC. At last they came out into a London street, the buildings fine and arranged in a courtyard around a garden surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The robed woman entered the garden through a gate, drifting through a carpet of leaves as she passed under the trees. 

Sebastian caught up to her under a canopy of gold and red, where she stood waiting. She turned, her hands lifting to draw back the hood that obscured her face. He slowed to a stop, staring as her face was revealed. He sucked in a breath, eyes wide. She was older than he had first thought, strands of white showing through the ebony of her hair, but her face could not be mistaken. He thought of the portrait hanging in Noctua’s house, the girl standing with her Gaunt siblings, his eyes drinking in the shape of this woman’s nose and mouth. 

“You are not MC,” he said softly, taking a tentative step forward. 

Her smile was soft, her blue eyes drenched with knowing confidence. “No, I am not,” she said, her voice low and gentle. She studied him, her tilting slightly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sebastian.” 

“You know my name,” he said, his gaze narrowing, feeling on edge. “You wanted me to follow you.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for quite some time, Mr Sallow. You intrigue me,” she said, completely calm. “You are dangerous. I’ve watched you duel in the underground pit, I know the company you keep, but there must be more beneath all the darkness. I think there are layers to you, a softness beneath the strength you portray to the world.”

Wariness crept over him, his hand hovering at his wand holster as he instinctively began to settle into a stance ready for a duel. “You have been watching me. Why?” 

“I want to know what she is drawn to, what she has found behind your tendencies for darkness,” she replied. “I’m going to assume you know who I am, Sebastian. You are so very close to my nephew, so close that you are, in fact, family now. Your sister is a Gaunt, and in the hands of the enemy.” 

“You seem to be rather well informed, Elizabeth,” he said, keeping his focus, not ready to trust her yet. She had a way of holding her head that reminded him of Marvolo, her utter calm not fooling him in the slightest. “Don’t tell me you are concerned for my sister’s welfare, or that of Ominis. If you were that fond of him, you would be present in his life. Ominis believed you to be dead until MC discovered otherwise.” 

She bowed her head slightly. “You are right, of course. I did abandon my blood roots, but I had my reasons, Sebastian. Good ones. But, blood has a habit of calling you back. I know MC has a Ministry man delving into the archives on her behalf. In fact, she was there this morning with that lovely, young Auror with the red hair.” 

Sebastian stilled, catching the curious look in her eyes as she watched for his reaction. So, MC really was with Prewett, just as he had suspected. It felt like a kick to the gut knowing she was chasing this research without him. 

“How do you know that?” He asked, a hint of ice in his tone. 

“Portraits have eyes and ears, Sebastian. It’s just a case of knowing which ones to speak to,” she smiled. 

Elizabeth Gaunt was proving clever, resourceful, and she clearly had the upper hand here. A true descendant of Slytherin. Knowledge was power, he knew that better than most. The question here remained unanswered, and he maintained his wary stance, his fingers itching to hold his wand.

“What is it you want with me?” He asked. “You clearly wanted me to follow you here.” 

“What do you know about the Circle of Avalon, Sebastian?” 

He frowned thoughtfully, his mind sifting through the vast stores of information he accumulated over his years of reading. “From what I can recall, they are connected to the arts of dark sacrifices. I believe they have roots in paganism, and the study of magical beasts, but this is mostly conjecture by historians.” 

“Oh, very good, Sebastian,” she smiled, her eyes lit with warmth for the first time since he had seen them. “I heard that you were a smart boy, very well read and curious. I’m pleased to find this an accurate description. How curious are you, though? History is always written by the winners, by hands that want people to read what they deem more appropriate to keep the sheep in line. Would you like to know the truth behind the written word, Sebastian? Are you curious enough to come with me? I can show you.” 

“Why should I trust you?” He asked, remaining firm. 

“Because you love her, don’t you?” 

For the first time, he saw a true softness in her gaze before she dipped it. Her feet moved gracefully over the fallen leaves, her robe shifting smoothly as she came to stand right before him. Her resemblance to MC was unmistakable and it was jarring. Her eyes had the same blue hue, but there was a different kind of strength in these depths, and a confidence, a woman who knew herself. 

“For years, I believed that my daughter was dead,” she said, speaking softly, a mother’s loss shadowing her gaze for a moment. “I handed her over to the Auror who found us. I was all alone in the world, my husband murdered, my family estranged from me, and my precious girl was the only thing that held me together, but I put her innocent life in the hands of an Auror. I did what I had to do to save her. He took her away, and I never saw her again.” 

“You…you gave her to Solomon?” Sebastian stared at her, goosebumps spreading up his arms.

“Yes,” she said, her gaze hardening. “I gave my daughter over to your uncle. Then my despicable brother found me, punished me with his wand and fists, and took great pleasure in telling me that my filthy blooded daughter was dead. I believed him, grieved for the loss of a child born out of nothing but love, until I saw the photograph of a girl who had stopped a goblin rebellion in the Daily Prophet, a most unusually gifted student of Hogwarts. She looked just like my grandmother, like me, and I knew in my veins that she was mine before I even had to read her name. She was a Brierley, she was the right age, and I needed to know more. But, then she was taken in for murder before I could get close, and it was a different kind of photograph on the front page of the Prophet. My daughter, my child, a murderer, and who did she kill but the very same man who took her from my arms all those years ago. Fate can be a dangerous game, but also a fascinating one.”

Her smile was sinister. Sebastian held his tongue knowing full well that MC did no such thing, that it was he who had murdered Solomon. 

“Knowing what I do now, that son of a bitch deserved what he got,” she said icily. “My sisters put me on a path that led to true discovery, and I have your mother to thank for it.” 

Sebastian’s gasp slipped out before he could even think about holding onto his restraint, his face paling, and his eyes widening in shock. “My mother?” 

“Your mother was one of life’s rare and wonderful witches,” Elizabeth said. “She was a great loss to the world, and I miss her, as I am sure you do, too. She spoke of you and your sister often. Know she loved you, that her pursuit for truth was fuelled by her desire to give you and Anne a world worth living in.” 

“You knew her?” He said, his voice breaking, his grief shifting under the weight of her words. 

Elizabeth nodded. “I knew her well. We attended Hogwarts together, and she found me later when I was wretched with my grief. But, the Circle helped us. When I discovered that MC had become close to you, it was as though the stars had aligned just so in order for you two to meet. Our lives seem to be fated to blend, our paths meeting at a crossroads, and should we leave that path, we will always find our way back to it.”

She reached out carefully, her cool fingers grasping his left hand and turning it over. They both looked down as she smoothed her touch over the vivid red line seared into his palm. “You bound yourself to her,” she whispered. “Blood bonds are strong, Sebastian. Family bonds, magical bonds, and the fiery burn of desire and love. Such bonds carry their own magical weight. How strong is your connection to my daughter?” 

“I would die for her,” he said immediately, his gaze lifting to meet the intensity of hers. “She is everything to me.” 

She studied him carefully, then nodded, keeping hold of his hand. “Well, let’s hope there will be no dying required today. I’ve found you, now we must find MC. The burdens you carry are so heavy for ones so young. You both need the truth. Will you come with me?” 

She had played to his weaknesses, the promise of knowledge and discovery, cornering him with her understanding of him and her connection to his mother. She had played a good game, and he knew that the lure of this was not something he could say no to. She knew it, too, her request merely a formality.

“Do you know where MC is now?” 

“I have a fairly good idea,” she smiled. “I have eyes everywhere.” 

He nodded, returning her grip on his hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. “I will come with you,” he said firmly. 

To be continued...

[gremmiie]

Wanted to redraw the selection of my Choices MCs

[srii-style]

Well, I was kinda revisiting BloodBound, and now regret going over Book 1 again. 'Coz WHY DOES THE MC HAVE TO BE SO CLUELESS? Kamilah threatens the MC in Chapter 5, and all the latter does is stare, get scared, get Kamilah her black coffee as she orders, become more in 'awe' of her, compliment her beauty (though she doesn't give a damn thing)- like seriously?!

Let's get this straight- Your 'brother' already had me (the MC), an employee of his (with no connection to the Vampire Society) walk into the Baron's place (which I probably just agreed to, so that I don't lose my job), and ALMOST GET MYSELF KILLED (or maybe imprisoned and tortured), and after all of that, offered me no apology! Fine, forgiven, but now, a VAMPIRE, to cry out loud, almost killed my best friend, and I believe, it was the Clan Leaders' duty (Kamilah's more so, as the 'senior council member') to make sure all the vampires in NYC stay under control, and don't attack humans. My friend was dying because of YOUR carelessness, and you threaten me for asking your 'brother' to fix what HE (along with the rest of you) broke?

I know, Kamilah's your favorite character and all (in case she is), but that whole chapter was frustrating as hell!

[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.