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blueraineshadows · 13 days ago

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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.

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...

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #leander prewett #blood bound #leander prewett x mc #blueraineshadows

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blueraineshadows · 5 months ago

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Part Eleven

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

MC turns to Sebastian in search of answers, but can she trust him? He might ask the same of her. Their relationship turns a full circle as they try to figure out the path they are on, whilst Leander meets a new face.

13.4 k words. Tags: NSFW / angst / trauma / sexual tension / jealousy / possessiveness / love triangle / death reference / hints about murder and torture

Chapter master list and Ao3

Eleven: Loving You Is A Blood Sport

In the deepest well of her memories lingered hazy flashbacks of hard, uncomfortable beds, cold feet, and the echoing loneliness of being one amongst many in the cramped rooms of the orphanage. Other children would come and go, either by death or taken in by some kind soul. Some would just disappear never to be seen again, but not MC. She remained. A constant in a world where you learned fast, eating what you were given as quickly as possible before it could be taken by another, sleeping with one ear and eye open lest a chancer came to steal your socks in the dead of night. It was an unforgiving upbringing, ruled over by a matron who used a cane to keep the children in line.

Always different, always an outsider, MC kept her silence and observed. There was no point making friends when that child could be gone the next day, and even if she did dare to befriend someone, her unusual gifts would chase them off eventually, the quirks of her magic sometimes appearing when her desperate attempts at control would slip.

As she grew older, boys began to take an interest, and she was grateful for the segregation fences that gave her space to remain hidden from their attention. Her unusual abilities were hard enough to keep a secret without all the extra focus, and so she remained distant, building the barriers that would help protect her in later life when she found herself behind bars.

Discovering that her magic was not a flaw, but in fact, a very vital and powerful part of herself, had felt like a homecoming of sorts when she entered the wizarding world. There had been no need for fences anymore, and she had allowed daylight through the cracks of her barriers, opening herself up enough to let a few people come close. Whilst easing the longing for intimacy that consumed her, it was also painful when you allowed people in. Caring for another opened you up to both the warmth of acceptance and the crushing pain of loss, and sorting through that tangle of emotions was hard. The temptation to immediately seal up the cracks was strong, and hiding would be all too easy, but the glow that came from being close to someone was very powerful and addictive. It surprised her how much she longed for even more of it, to be held and told that everything would be alright. It eased some of the heavy weight she carried when she could lay her head somewhere warm and safe, hear another's heartbeat thudding a comforting rhythm, and feel hands smoothing over her skin, evoking fire and abandon that distracted and sated.

Once you let the first person in, it became a landslide as others joined the circle, and now she was spinning in bewildered shock as that circle now enlarged to include blood relatives. She had a family in the world. Real people. They had names, faces, lives…and what was even more shocking. She knew who they were.

Did they know who she was?

She suspected they did not, and her heart thudded painfully as she thought of the hours spent in the company of one who was blood, someone she had allowed to become close. All that time they had shared together, and they had been family all along. The need to see his face was overwhelming, and yet, she feared he would reject her, unable to accept that she was a relative. In order to get answers, though, she would need to confront that fear. In order to find her true self, she needed to step out beyond the barriers she still held tightly around herself.

Twilight shadows lengthened as the sky morphed into darkness, her boots stepping lightly across the cobbled street as she made for the door of the Black Rose pub. There was no point in hesitating outside and chewing her lip, worrying about the consequences of entering the establishment this time. Tired of lurking and waiting on the sidelines, MC pushed the door open and crossed the threshold, her hood pushed back to reveal her face. Holding her head high she scanned the room, her face carefully blank as her gaze landed on the small group of familiar Ashwinders seated in a far corner. The bar room was busy, the hum of chattering customers adding to the feeling of the walls pressing inwards, but she fought to ignore the imposing sensation of eyes on her as she crossed the space.

Rosier noticed her first, recognition dawning on his handsome face as she strode towards their table, swallowing down the gentle nervous flutters behind her ribs. He nudged Sebastian with his elbow, garnering his attention away from Luella, who was seated beside him. Ignoring the clench of envy in her stomach, MC remained determined as Sebastian’s eyes lifted towards her, a flash of delight appearing in the chocolate depths before he masked it with a similar cool indifference to her own stony facade. Despite her efforts to remain focused on her task, clearly there was a game to play here in front of everyone. Steeling herself, she kept her chin tilted upwards as she glanced around the table.

She had turned down Leander’s offer of help earlier today, concerned that he was risking himself enough by digging up buried information for her. Rather than let him get into trouble, she had come here to seek out someone who could easily point her in the right direction without the added risk. Gazing upon Sebastian’s freckled face, she wondered if he knew the truth. Did he know what his uncle had done when she was a baby? Did he know the blood he had bonded with ran strong with a power other than her ancient magic? Could it be his reason for wanting her in the first place, and not because of deeper feelings brought on by their time together?

“We meet again, sweetheart,” Rosier said, that disarming smile of his drawing her attention away from Sebastian. “Are you planning on sticking around a bit longer this time? You seemed in rather a hurry to get away at our previous meeting, and just when I was starting to get to know you.”

“Good evening, Mr Rosier,” MC said coolly, trying to ignore the way his smile widened at her formality. There was something in his eyes that told her he liked a challenge as he lazily surveyed her. “I'm actually here to speak with Mr Sallow, if he wouldn't mind.”

“He wouldn't mind at all,” Sebastian said, placing down his whiskey. Luella was watching with narrowed eyes, her shoulders tense as Sebastian looked expectant. “What can I do for you?”

“I believe we can help each other,” she said, playing the game. “I hear you have been looking for me, and I find myself in need of some information. Perhaps we could strike up a deal.”

The slow smirk that spread across Sebastian’s face made the flutters behind her ribs twirl downwards, pooling dangerously in her lower stomach. She could feel the heat spreading, making the back of her neck warm up as she forced herself to appear calm and in control.

“I’m all ears, sweetheart,” he purred, lounging casually back in his seat, a dangerous and knowing glint in his eyes as he repeated words he had spoken to her on a hillside in Scotland mere hours ago. A shiver whispered down her spine, the memory of his arms holding her still fresh, the soft tendrils of flame at the feel of his mouth on her throat invoking anything but calm control over her senses.

Bastard.

Clenching her hands into fists as she maintained her tenuous grip on her control, MC glanced from Rosier to Luella and let her lips twist into a slight smirk. “A private word, if you would be so kind.”

Rosier threw a grin Sebastian’s way. “Look lively, Sallow,” he said, nudging him again. “Don't keep the lady waiting.”

Sebastian threw Rosier a warning look before standing, Luella reaching out to place a rather possessive hand on his forearm. MC felt herself stiffen at the touch, and noticed Sebastian did the same, although he looked down at Luella with surprising patience.

“A private word?” Luella asked, one eyebrow arching upwards in a perfect curve. “Is that wise?”

Sebastian shrugged, subtly slipping his arm free of her touch. “I'm sure I can handle it.”

Luella’s cheeks darkened with a flush, her eyes flashing as she glared at MC. It was all too clear that MC had stepped into this witch’s territory and was luring Sebastian away, Luella’s envy creeping over her face as Sebastian stepped out from the table to join MC. It was interesting to note that Sebastian barely gave Luella a second glance, turning to Rosier rather than the beautiful witch as he took his leave from their group.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” he nodded, and then turned his gaze onto MC. While his face portrayed his typical casual confidence, there was a hint of something darker and far more dangerous in the depths of his eyes. “I’m ready when you are.”

MC chanced one more glance towards Luella, the fury in the depths of her blue eyes hinting that Rookwood was likely to hear about this. Good. MC dared to smirk, her lips curving upwards in a cold, but pleased expression as she stepped aside to let Sebastian lead.

Feeling Luella’s gaze like daggers into her back, MC followed Sebastian through the bar, not failing to notice the broad expanse of his shoulders and the steady way he held himself. Tearing her eyes away from him, she let her gaze wander around the busy bar, but soon enough, she was drawn back to him as he held the door open for her.

“After you,” he said, gesturing towards the street outside. So much weight carried in two little words when you combined them with the way he looked at her, but MC fought against the urge to smile, remembering the possessive way Luella had touched him.

“Such a gent,” she quipped, tilting her chin upwards as she strode past, the chill evening air kissing her cheeks.

“How private does this need to be?” He asked quietly, appearing close to her shoulder.

She gave him a sideways look, her pulse flickering into a faster beat at his proximity. “Very,” she murmured, the weight of her truth bearing down on her.

He nodded and she felt his hands slip about her waist from behind, her lungs drawing air in sharply as he held her tight against his chest, his breath hot on her neck. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

As her hands clasped over his, Knockturn Alley swirled out of view. They landed on grass, his hands still holding her about the waist as they steadied their footing, her eyes darting about at their surroundings and realising they were in some kind of park.

“You need to stop doing that,” she said breathlessly, turning her head to look up at him.

“Spoil sport,” he smirked, his touch lingering at her waist. “We are still in London. Crystal Palace Park, to be exact. We should be able to enjoy some privacy here.”

His hand sought hers and he grasped it firmly, leading her across well kept grass towards a tall hedge, the breeze sighing softly through some nearby trees. Looking down at their clasped hands, she couldn’t help but be taken back five years, gallivanting across the Highland landscape with him and beginning to believe she had found her forever. The pinch in her chest was sharp as the shadows loomed over her head, the idea that nothing good would ever find roots in her soul making her eyes sting with lonely tears. What if she couldn't trust Sebastian again? It would cut out the closest thing she'd ever had with anyone.

They rounded the hedge only to be confronted by more of them, the night sky above sprinkled with early stars as Sebastian led her into the foliage tunnel, her head swivelling as she realised what it was.

“We’re in a maze,” she said, her brow furrowing as he continued to lead her deeper.

“That we are,” he said, throwing a smirk over his shoulder as he made a turn, and then another.

“Do you even know the way?”

He turned, stepping backwards as he smiled down at her. Damn him, and his charming smile. “Isn’t not knowing all part of the fun?”

“That all depends on the details,” she said, irritation sparking along her veins. She tugged her hand from his grip making him stumble slightly as they came to a stop. “I haven’t got time for your games, Sebastian. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to talk.”

“Alright,” he said carefully, pushing his fingers through his mop of hair. Shadows cloaked them, and his eyes glittered in the darkness. “What did you want to talk about?”

Where did she start? How to find the words and begin? Now that they were here, her mind was spinning from the last 24 hours. Tracking Sebastian into the tunnels, McKinnon’s death, her conflicting emotions after being reunited with Sebastian, and the revelation of her birth mother. It all spun in circles, suspended in her thoughts and making her chest tighten as she stared at him.

“When you first met me, did you know who I really was?” She asked, her voice trembling slightly, her fingers grazing softly against the scar on her palm. “I told you about growing up in an orphanage, but did you have any idea of how I got there in the first place?”

He stepped closer, and she could make out the confused frown on his brow through the darkness. “How could I possibly know that? The first time I saw you was in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. I had no idea who you were then.”

She nodded, dipping her gaze as she took a steadying breath. “What about after you took me to meet your family? What did they say about me?”

“MC, what is this?” He asked, stepping even closer, his hands reaching to take hold of her elbows, drawing her into his space. She met his gaze and saw the worry there, the confusion. “Where is this going?”

“Tell me the truth,” she whispered, her lower lip wobbling as she rested her closed fists against the expanse of his chest, his hands cupping her elbows. She wanted to believe in him so much it made her ache deep inside. “Do you know who my mother is?”

He stared at her, his eyes shifting as he studied her carefully, and his grip on her tightened. “I have no idea who your mother is, MC. I promise,” he said, shaking his head. “But I get the impression you do. What happened? What makes you think I would know? Tell me.”

“I…,” she faltered, her throat closing as she teetered on the edge of her trust. She wanted to believe him, but Solomon’s name on that paperwork was as clear as day. The link of her childhood to the Sallow name was shocking. Her feet had taken her straight back to the man who had placed her into care, meeting Sebastian had put her right in front of Solomon without even realising his connection to her. Doubt tugged at her, and as much as she could feel the longing to be held by Sebastian, she stepped back, removing her arms from his grasp. The walls around her heart closed in, shutting down the gaping maw in her chest that screamed to be made whole.

“You can trust me, MC,” he said desperately, reaching forward as though to touch her, but he hesitated. “Whatever this is, whatever you need, I’m here. I promise. No matter what.”

“Leander found my birth records,” she began, her hands unfurling and clenching tightly, over and over. “He gave them to me earlier today. I know who my mother is.”

Her chest tightened, and the very air she breathed felt too thin and full of his scent, distracting her. Taking another step back from him, she considered running and not telling him anymore. Knowledge was power, after all, and how much did she want to give him?

“Who is she?” He asked, his voice strained. “Why would you think I know her? You’re worrying me, MC.”

She could hear it in his voice, see it in the way he was looking at her. In all honesty, it worried her, too. The weight that came with her birth name hung over her head, another shadow to carry along with all the others. Sebastian shared so many of her secrets already, and she knew most of his up until the point they had been forced apart. Maybe it wasn’t so wrong to share more. After all, he was the first one she had come to after declining Leander’s help. She was beginning to wonder if everything would always come back to Sebastian in the end. It was almost as though fate had cast her onto his path, a pre-written clause that she would enter the house of Slytherin and find exactly who she needed to all those years ago. Sebastian and his best friend. Their trio of darkness sealed by those who came before.

Like his uncle. Like her mother.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, shaking her head, still maintaining a distance. “I will be fine. I just need to find... I need…”

“Anything, MC,” he promised. “I’ll do anything.”

Staring into those molten chocolate eyes, it was so easy to believe that he would. Every cell in her body seemed to tremble with the need to feel him, the desire to press so close until their bodies blended as one seemed to almost obliterate everything else, but she couldn’t let herself get distracted in such a way. Closing her eyes, she took a steadying breath, her fingers stroking against the scar on her palm.

Not two hours ago she had been held by Leander, her face buried against the warmth of his chest, his graceful fingers soothing against her hair and back. He never asked anything of her, merely gave all that he could to ensure that she was okay. That kind of safety was foreign and felt completely undeserved, and she felt guilt tear and slide through her stomach. Her fondness for the tall Auror had grown, and she did not want to hurt him. The confusion of her feelings choked up the truth that she had come here to speak.

Looking at Sebastian in the dark of the maze, feeling the pull that he had on her body, the magnetism that seemed to keep them locked in each other's orbit, she battled with the guilt of giving herself to another man. A man who was the light to Sebastian’s shadow.

“Why do I always end up alone with you in the dark, Sebastian?”

The pain she tried so hard to bury echoed through the whisper of her voice. Would she regret coming back to him? Would he take what he needed and then leave her to face the dark alone?

“I'll always find you in the dark, MC,” he promised. “And you will always find me there waiting for you. It's just what we do, you and I.”

“What if that isn't enough?”

“What more do you want?” He frowned, capturing her hand in his and holding it, his thumb grazing against her skin in a caress she could feel all the way to her bones. His gaze was intense, a muscle working in his jaw as he stepped closer. “Whatever it is you want to tell me, it won't change how I feel about you. Nothing will. I will always choose you above all others.”

Staring back at him, she wondered if he was referring to Luella, the question burning her tongue. If she asked him outright, she might not like the answers he would give. His words seeped through her thoughts, the years of solitude still making her cling to her barriers, her trust wobbling back and forth regarding him. They could love each other as deeply, and for as long as there was time on earth, but to make it work she had to choose this. She had to fight for it. Did she want that? How deeply was his family involved in her shadowed past? What secrets hung over them, and would they rip whatever remained of them apart?

Leander was the light to Sebastian’s darkness. She knew she would cast shadows over that light and smother it out eventually, and she couldn’t bear to do it to him. Sebastian had his own darkness, and together they would be reckless and dangerous. Maybe neither of these men were right for her, and the path she must walk could prove to be a lonely one after all. The ache of that possibility swelled behind her ribs, and it was crippling.

Squeezing his hand she took a breath and looked up through the gap in the maze walls to the sky above. So many questions, so many secrets and truths, and they all clogged up in her throat. She couldn't tell him. She wasn't ready. The fragility she shielded from him was held back by a cracking wall, and she needed a stronger foundation before she began to build back what they had.

If there was anything left to build with, of course. She wasn't the only one who had taken comfort in the arms of another. Bringing her gaze back to him, she felt herself hardening as she thought of who they had left behind at the pub.

“I want to trust you, but I'm not sure I can,” she said, shaking her head. “Luella. How long has it been going on?”

She tried to pull her hand free, but this time he didn’t let her go, his grip tightening into a vice grip. Any softness she had been feeling evaporated, and a slithering, dark part of her began to creep out to play.

“I don’t know what it is you think you know, but Luella and I are not courting,” he said firmly. “She is a gang member that I must appear loyal to, that is all.”

MC felt every muscle tighten with envy, her words bitter sounding as they slid from her tongue. She was done being trodden on by anyone. “But you have fucked her, haven’t you?”

Unable to forget the expression on his face when she had thrown Luella’s name at him on that hillside in Scotland, she let her envy get the better of her, watching him carefully in the dark of the maze as she awaited his answer. He looked down at the ground, her stomach sinking as he gripped her hand, stopping her from being able to run or Apparate without him. He nodded, and she felt her stomach cave with a sickening lurch.

“I did,” he confessed, lifting those big, brown eyes her way again. “MC, I’m sorry…”

“Let me go,” she demanded, her voice cracking. Eyes burning, she yanked her hand, but he stubbornly refused to release her, taking hold of her other arm to keep her trapped in his space. She twisted in his grip, but he held firm. She glared at him, forcing the softness from her eyes. “My memories of you kept me sane in that place, and you were out here bedding the daughter of my enemy…”

Her words choked out of her throat at the end, her chest squeezing as she bent over, gasping for breath. Her head swam with the thought of them together, his confession compounding her fears and turning them into a reality. Daring to trust him again made her a fool. Doubt clouding her thoughts, she pulled against his firm grip as he tried to stutter out an excuse.

“I don’t want to hear your apologies, Sebastian!” She snapped, her body going rigid as rage swept through her. The burn in her eyes manifested tears that began to scald her cheeks, but the rage woke the ancient magic that always lurked beneath the surface, flickering dangerously in the depths of her eyes. “And to think I felt guilty about where I lay my head at night. Well, no more.”

The remorseful expression on his face morphed swiftly into one of stony suspicion, his mouth forming a tight line as he spoke with a cold fury. “Please, don’t tell me you’re sleeping in Prewett’s bed.”

The telling blistering crackle of a bond being tested began to seeth in her blood, but she laughed, the need to bite back so strong she could almost taste it. A heady and reckless daring flooded through her with the scalding burn. She could see the rage building in his eyes, feel the tense way his body was responding to her taunt. The need to lash out and sting him the way he had ripped through her was very real, her own guilt conveniently forgotten as she let her temper get the better of her.

“Oh, trust me, there hasn’t been much sleeping going on if you catch my drift,” she chuckled darkly. “You're not the only one who knows how to play, Sebastian, and Leander proved a most willing and satisfying accomplice.”

“I will end him,” he hissed, his face dark and tight with fury as he gripped her harder.

Something hot and fierce bloomed behind her ribs, her cheeks flushing as she pushed back against Sebastian, her own anger ablaze in the depths of her eyes.

“You dare do anything to hurt Leander, and you will never see me again,” she warned, her words deathly cold despite the burn of her temper. Surprised at the wave of protectiveness that had flooded through her, she saw the dismay dawn on Sebastian’s face, her guilt seeping back to curl around her anger.

“You…you would do that,” he said, his brows drawing together. “You would abandon me for him?”

“You don’t understand what he did for me,” she said, her voice hushed. “What he still does…”

“He touches you,” he said, his voice hoarse, his eyes scanning her body as he tried to process her words. “You let him touch you.”

“And you let Luella touch you,” she said, some of the hardness in her voice cracking to reveal a slither of her pain. “What does that say about us?”

His hand gripped her jaw, tilting her face up to his as he fought against the fury flaring in his eyes. “She is nothing to me. Nothing!�� He hissed, those dark eyes burning into hers. “What about him? You feel something for him, don’t you? I saw the way you looked at him in those tunnels. You were muttering his name in your sleep, and now you dare to threaten me to protect him. Look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing for him. Go on!”

Coming here for his help had turned into this. Instead of keeping a grip on her control, she was lashing out and trying to hurt him. Maybe she was trying to push him away deliberately. It sounded like something stupid she would do, slam those barriers up and kick down anyone who dared to try and breach them. Just as she had warned Leander not to get too attached to her, she was striking out at Sebastian, too.

She felt heat burn in her cheeks upon discovering she spoke Leander’s name in her sleep, that he had noticed the softness she harboured for the Auror in her eyes. Despite her fury that Sebastian had taken Luella to bed, she felt guilt curl tightly in her stomach, and she let her gaze dip away from the intensity of his eyes. Her blood crackled and burned at the thought of denying her feelings, the very notion of trying to lie to Sebastian searing her heart through a promise given.

“You can’t, can you?” His voice dripped with disbelief. He let her go, his hand sliding from her jaw as he stepped back. “You have feelings for him.”

She shook her head, but the truth couldn’t be denied. “I can’t explain it…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Sebastian roared, the tendons in his neck standing rigid as he clenched his fists. The rage on his face was absolute. “Leander Prewett will regret the day he dared lay a finger on what belongs to me!”

Sebastian

The burning in his blood was spreading like wildfire, out of control and consuming him faster than his rage, and he could physically feel the tremble all the way to his fingertips. The rage he could understand, his mind screamed with the knowledge that MC felt something for that damned Gryffindor.

His girl, his precious, precious girl.

He blinked slowly, gritting his teeth against the crackling fire that lit his blood and scorched his heart, the sensation new and shocking. Pressing a hand to his chest, he wondered if this was heartbreak, could this be how he would die. His whole body erupting into nothing but ashes and fires of fury because she was slipping out from his reach.

The first time he had kissed those lips, the first time she had touched her fingers to his skin in a way that meant more than friendship, the breath-stealing whirlwind of falling for her…it all seemed to flash behind his eyes, like those stories you heard about facing your death. His thoughts flickered and danced like a picture book of memories, all of her, and a fog darker than death himself was striving to steal them away. He could only shake his head in denial of the fact, his own misdemeanour forgotten as he stared at her beautiful face. A face that Prewett had now touched, kissed, that prick had seen her laying against his pillow when she should only be with him.

That coiling, dark snake of his evil began to slither around his insides, seductive and alluring. The darkness lingered at his shoulder, whispering its taunts and urging him to answer. He could see the tall, redheaded figure of Prewett in his mind. The smart suit and fine robe, the healthy glow of his skin, the unwavering loyalty and truth of his eyes. A proper gentleman and an Auror, fucking perfect Prewett, always showing up and spoiling the fun.

Why did it have to be Prewett that got her out of Azkaban first? How was it fair that he got to play the fucking hero when Sebastian had been waiting years to see her face?

He would start slowly, cracking the bones in his legs so he couldn’t run, snapping his wand so he couldn’t cast. Ropes to bind his hands, a gag to silence him, but his eyes he would leave free. He wanted to see the pain in that bastard’s eyes as he was punished. He wanted Prewett to see the face of the one he owed, and his debt of pain was a colossal one.

The thought of Prewett’s hands on her skin, his lips tasting what Sebastian hungered for…

Her laughter snapped his train of thought and he stared at her, the bitterness in that chuckle threw ice over the burn. How could this possibly be funny?

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” She said, nodding. “I know what you’re doing, Seb. You want to destroy Leander, don’t you? Perhaps you have failed to realise that by hurting him, you will also hurt me, and you can’t do that. You can’t betray me like that, because you made a promise. Trapped by your own pact, Sebastian.”

She held up her left palm, waving it in his face, her blood scar vivid against her pale flesh. “It makes your blood boil, doesn’t it? Does your heart feel like it’s going to burst in your chest?”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience, love?” He said, his voice low and dangerous as he spoke through gritted teeth.

“You do have a habit of giving me reasons to be mad,” she huffed. “You, and that bitch of a sister of yours. I won’t deny that I have considered my revenge, no matter who she is.”

She winced, sucking in a breath and pressing a hand to her own chest. Interesting…

Looking at his own scar on his palm, he pondered the burn, the wicked pulse of his heart as he seethed. The blood magic was strong, their connection absolute. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the success of it. He tilted his head, his body slipping into that sleek and alert mode he so enjoyed when faced with a challenge. Blood thrumming with anger and a promise made, he realised his wand was already in his grip. He couldn’t recall slipping it from his holster. So intent was he on his rage, his blinkers over her betrayal cancelling out everything else, he even allowed the slur against his twin.

“Hurting Prewett might just be worth the pain,” he said, the coiling darkness so seductive and alluring. Dare he add another dark mark on his arm, another soul for his little collection. He licked his lips as he fought back the idea of the auror’s hands at her waist, her thigh, her pretty little neck. He would snap every bone in Prewett’s hand for daring to touch her.

He watched her eyes flare, her soft lips parting slightly as she stared. “You would die,” she rasped.

“Would you even care?” He asked, his feet shifting position, his fingers flexing around his wand handle. His eyes narrowed, envious and raw. “Does he please you, MC? Does he give you what you need?”

Her throat worked as she counter stepped, her own wand in her hand now, but it was aimed towards the ground and not him. His lips almost twitched into a smirk of satisfaction, the hours spent sparring with her when they were young still so ingrained into her body that she moved without thinking. Their steps like a dance, he raised his wand arm, and she mirrored his move.

“Do you really want to know the details, Sebastian?”

The hedges rose up in the dark around them, shielding them from the London park. The night sky stretched above them, the smog thin this evening, allowing the stars to peek down upon their heads with the gentle glow of a half moon. The air was chilled, but his blood was enough to keep him warm as he faced MC down on the maze path. His hand shook with the effort of holding his wand pointed in her direction, his veins pulsing and burning as a sweat began to break out across his forehead. He didn’t want to know the details, and yet his head was taking him there, imagining her moaning Prewett’s name while her cheeks flushed pink with her pleasure. It was a torment, a nightmare sent to rip his rational mind into tatters.

The darkness offered to swallow his pain, a tempting cloak as he stared at her, shaking as he fought the rage that boiled in his chest. How easy it would be to let the dark curl around it all, envelope him completely and leave him a shadow of himself. Cast off the pain and rage, and succumb to the icy depths of the bleak and empty landscape of cold terror. He could become a weapon, unfeeling and uncaring, carving through this life intent on nothing but destruction. What point was there to anything without her?

The loneliness of it all yawned like a maw before his feet, just an easy reach to cast himself into the dark and leave behind everything else. Maybe it would be easier. He was just so tired of fighting, so tired of cradling the pain. Succumb and be done with it.

Other memories began to seep through the shadow, dragging him back away from the drop, flickers of candlelight and her soft smile. Her fingers swiping the tears from his cheeks as he sobbed in the cold of the Undercroft, the tremble of their bodies after they had given themselves to each other for the first time, the familiar and safe glances over their textbooks in the library… her laughter as he chased her across the beach near Feldcroft under a summer sun.

The roaring throb of his pulse in his ears mingled with the rapid fire of his heaving lungs. His feet were backing up, the scratch of the hedge branches caught against his jacket and hair as he all but sagged against the foliage. Hand shaking so hard, he had to grip his wand tightly to avoid dropping it, he felt as well as heard the harsh sob that left his mouth.

“You can’t love him,” he croaked, shaking his head.

“You can’t control everything, Sebastian,” she said, lowering her wand. “We are already bound by blood magic, you cannot seek to control how I feel towards others. I am not an object to master. I have a mind of my own.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to deny what lay hidden in her words. She did love Prewett. He was losing her. He could feel her slipping through his fingers, and she was right. He couldn’t control it. The fate of continuous failure seemed to truly be embedded into his soul, and this, this would be his ultimate loss. His very reason for everything was scooped up and carried away in the arms of a white knight in Auror robes.

The old crone in the prison cell had choked on her own blood and spit, cackling at the notion of him losing her to another, the pain he had inflicted on her neither easing his agony or changing the fact. How many times would he lash out and try to smash something in his attempts to fix what was broken?

It was him. He was the broken one.

Aiming with wild abandon, he cast Confringo, the blast of fire erupting from his wand and scorching the hedge to the side of him as he cried out in a sound that was more agony than rage. The blaze caught, devouring the branches and leaves in a crackle of flame that seared his eyes against the darkness of the maze. The heat of it against his cheeks had him scrambling backwards, tipping sideways onto the dirt path.

“Sebastian!”

The fire began to spread, the pungent scent of scorched fir trees filling his nose as he leapt to his feet. He felt a hand grip his arm, pulling him backwards away from the chaos of his reckless fury, just as a blast of cool blue shot past him, banking the flames back with the power of her magic.

“You’re an idiot, Sebastian,” she muttered near his ear. “Get us the fuck out of here.”

Turning to meet her gaze, his eyes stinging from the fire and tears, the streaks of which coursed through the ash on his cheeks, he almost choked on his breath. “Us?”

Her hand gripped his arm tighter as she nodded. Just like that, a flicker, a glow like the light of gods ignited in his chest. Us. She wasn’t going to leave here without him. Clamping his hand firmly over hers where she held him, he focused his thoughts and felt the pull of Apparation take them away from the flames.

…*...

The opposite of heat and flame was cold and water. The expanse and depth of the limitless ocean. They hit the sand with a thump, their booted feet sliding on the softness and making them tumble over. He immediately braced himself, trying to avoid crushing her as they rolled on the sand, but he didn’t let her go. Her grunt of pain made him fight her flailing arms, pinning her to the beach as the cool freshness of salty air filled his lungs and the roar of the waves reached his ears.

She glared up at him, resisting his grip. “Get off,” she snapped.

“Are you hurt?” His eyes scanned over her, ignoring her command.

Her mouth tightened. “Only where it counts.”

It was like a knife of ice slicing through him, his eyes turning bleak as he looked down at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never want to hurt you.”

She blinked rapidly, turning her head to the side as she glanced around them, taking in the wild and abandoned landscape that was the Scottish coastline. Her brow furrowed slightly. “Is this…this is Feldcroft.”

He sighed, head dipping as he fought down the anxiety that only this place could pull out of him. Of all the places in the world, he had brought her home, if that’s what he could still call this place.

“Why here?”

He met her gaze in the moonlight, the ebb and flow of the waves, the only sound in the vicinity. “I feel like we need to go back to the start,” he said, his voice tight and pained. “This place doesn’t just hold dark memories. It also gives me some of the best memories I own. Our memories. We can make amends, MC. Despite everything. I am yours in the end, so we need to find that path we once walked. Together.”

The silence stretched as he tried to calm the burning anger, steadying his breathing as he prepared to fight for her rather than against.

“Why her?” Lips trembling, MC sank back into the sand, her hair pooled around her head like a dark halo. “Why did you do it?”

Wincing at the question, he pushed up to his knees, one each side of her hips. He released her arms and put his hands to his face, scrubbing at his cheeks with his palms as he tried to find an answer for her. Luring Luella into his bed had been a means to an end, a devious way to keep her sweet and gain access to what he wanted. So very Slytherin of him, but at what expense?

Looking down at MC he realised just how much he stood to lose for his selfishness and it twisted his heart painfully. All those nights he had tried to find sleep alone, clutching the amulet in his hands and desperately clinging to the memory of her face. Luella had eased that ache, she had made him forget, even if it had only been for a brief time.

“I was lonely,” he sighed, turning to look out at the heaving mass of the ocean, dark and restless and stretching out towards nothing. “All I cared about was getting my revenge, finding a way to stop Anne’s curse, and perhaps seek out some way of getting you out. The nights were the worst. I missed you so much it was like a physical ache. Luella was there. She was a key to getting in closer to Rookwood’s nest, and I…I was weak.”

The sting of tears returned and he wiped his sleeve across his eyes, shaking his head at the pathetic sound of his words.

“I want to fix it,” he said, his voice beginning to shake as he looked back down at her. She was utterly still, her eyes locked on him as she listened. “I want to be forgiven, but I know that’s not something I can force or control. But, I promise you, I only want you. You are all I have ever wanted. When I arrived at your cell door and you were gone, I felt like you had been ripped away from me like that night when Harrington came for you. I can’t do that…I can’t lose you again. I will do anything to put this right.”

“Oh, fuck,” she sighed, her eyes closing as she brought her hands together as if in prayer. She held them against her mouth, her breathing shaky. “You can’t look at me like that, Sebastian, not with those big, bloody, brown eyes of yours.”

“That depends. Is it working?”

She sighed harshly and frowned, covering her face with her hands. He was pushing his luck and he knew it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, that flicker of hope in his chest striving to remain alight.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, her gaze still had the power to rob him of breath, his lungs tightening as she sat up, her face tilting towards his.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said softly, her fingers reaching up to brush back the wild tumble of his hair. Such a gentle touch, yet it made him shiver, goosebumps spreading along his arms.

It felt like a tightrope that they were balanced on, alone here on the beach with only themselves to contend with. Laid bare, vulnerable. He wondered what she was sorry for, perhaps laying in Prewett’s bed or for loving him. Sebastian felt cold fear seep through his bones as the possibility emerged that she could be sorry about having to leave him, despite his plea to try and fix this mess.

Unable to stop himself, his hands cupped her face, his fingertips seeking out the delicate bones of cheek and jaw. “I love you,” he whispered, the words a ghostly plea in the dark.

Her hand slid deeper into his hair, pulling him down towards her, and then her mouth collided with his, making him breath in sharply through his nose as her softness enveloped him. Grunting at the urgent pull of his hair, his arms encircled her immediately, crushing her against his chest as he kissed her back with a fierceness that made his blood hotter than any urge to betray his bond.

The taste of her obliterated all else as he took advantage of her parted lips, kissing her so deeply as though starved, and maybe he was. The scales of rage and passion swung wildly, one flame consuming the other until it flared with white heat. His hands roamed down her back, seeking the curve of waist and hip, relearning the shape of her under his palms. That ache that lived in his chest sharpened, chasing back the shadows and dragging him screaming into the light of the moon, into the light only she could give him. It felt like belonging, so perfect, so right.

When she pulled back from him, he moaned in protest, urging her closer as they both breathed harshly. She whispered his name, her hands still on him as she studied his face with heavily lidded eyes. He still had a hold on her. It was in her flushed cheeks and blown out gaze, the seeking caress of her hand through his hair.

“This is so confusing,” she said, her brows drawing together as if pained. “I don’t know what to do.”

His fingers ghosted against her cheek, his thumb lovingly stroking the damp fullness of her lower lip. “Stay,” he begged. “Stay till the morning.”

“I can’t,” she breathed, closing her eyes, leaning in to his touch.

He pressed gentle kisses around the edge of her mouth, watching her through his lashes as she shivered, her lips parting with ragged breaths. He sucked gently on her lower lip, trailing his tongue with aching slowness, watching her reactions all the while, stroking her back with long, easing caresses.

“Stay with me,” he repeated, his words breathed into her mouth before he claimed another long kiss. He could feel her melting, sense the pull of longing that might just keep her here with him. So strong was his desire to keep her right here, he felt all his willpower flow out of him, resorting to begging to keep that warmth in his arms. “I just want you close, that’s all. I need to feel you there. I have longed for this…please.”

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding as he pressed his forehead to hers. Elation swelled in his chest as he held her close, his eyes closing in utter relief. “I’ll stay with you.”

Standing side by side, hands clasped, MC and Sebastian stared at the headstone, the weeds of the garden beginning to stake their claim over Solomon’s resting place. It felt surreal to stand here before it after everything that had passed, reading the name of the man who sent her behind bars with his death and Anne’s cunning, a man who had signed her over to a children’s home when she had been a toddler. Seeing Solomon’s grave was a reminder of why she had sought Sebastian out in the first place and her anxiety swelled.

“I’ve not been back here in years,” Sebastian said tightly, his thumb tracing circles against her hand. “It’s just too hard.”

“Why now?” She turned her head to look at him, watching the way the breeze tugged at his mop of hair, locks of it tumbling forward over his forehead.

He squeezed her hand. “You,” he said, turning dark eyes her way, eyes that were always her undoing. “I can do it with you beside me.”

Heart twisting, she couldn’t deny the doubt that lingered as they entered the cottage that had been Sebastian’s home. The blend of emotions she carried left her feeling drained and exhausted, her limbs heavy as they removed the dust sheets from the furniture and lit the fire. A search of the cupboards turned up a bottle of spiced rum and some old potions that looked past their prime. Dusting of the bottle of rum, Sebastian opened it and took a swig, wincing and coughing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He held the bottle out to her. “Here, it’s strong and will take the edge off.”

The air was loaded with tension, her doubt making her eye the door and consider leaving. There was a Floo in the hamlet. She could go back to London and Leander. Swallowing the rum down, she winced at the burn, remembering the feel of Sebastian’s kiss, his hands on her body. The craving had overcome all else, her resolve weakening under that irresistible pull that only he had. Despite the fury and the envy, she had pressed her mouth to his as though staking her claim.

It was all too easy to succumb to her desire for him, with that she had always been weak, but the matter of trust was another beast entirely. As much as she longed to believe in him again, she held back behind her barriers and kept her heart in a jar of glass with the lid tightened. She may have agreed to stay with him until the morning, but this was by no means fixed.

With no food, they sipped from the rum bottle and made up the bed. Her eyes meeting with him as memories flooded her thoughts, summer nights spent entangled with each other, naked and lost in their own little world. It made her chest hurt to remember how she had been torn from him, the agony of that night returning as he put out the lamp and removed his jacket.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come here,” she said, hesitating about removing her own clothing. Her throat felt thick, restricted, and she tucked her hair behind her ears as she fought against the anxiety.

His hands smoothed down her arms, his eyes dark and soft as he looked at her. “Believe me, I can’t believe I’m here either, but as I said on the beach, I want to remember the good things we found here. I want you to remember what it felt like for us here before…”

She closed her eyes, fighting back the shadows of the past. She felt his lips on her nose, pressing soft kisses on her cheek before holding her close. His scent filled her up, the thick press of his arms enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth that she couldn’t help but lean into.

Guilt twisted her stomach and she tensed, Leander on her mind, easing out of his embrace as she dipped her gaze towards the bed. “We should try and get some sleep. I don’t know about you, but I’m shattered.”

Removing her boots and jacket, MC kept her clothes on as she lay down on the bed, Sebastian removing everything but his shirt and undershorts, opening his collar before laying beside her. Turning to face her, he gathered her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her head before smiling softly.

“Finally,” he murmured.

The reflection of the crackling fire danced in his eyes, his unruly hair dark against the white pillow. The sheets were a bit musty from being in storage, but the intoxicating scent that was Sebastian held her attention more than anything else.

“Won’t you be missed?” She asked, trying not to think about the press of his thick thighs against hers.

“No,” he said, stroking her hair. “Rosier will cover me, and besides, this is where I want to be. I don’t care what they say.”

“And Luella? She clearly didn’t want you to leave with me.”

He shook his head, his fingers curling through her hair. “Then she is going to be disappointed. I made no promises to her, and I have no desire to be with her. She needs to accept that.”

Lowering her gaze, MC bit her lip, knowing that in London, Leander would be likely thinking of her. He wouldn't want her to be here with Sebastian either. Lying here beside him, letting him hold her, it made the guilt tear through her. How tangled their paths had become, swiftly moving streams that linked and flowed around each other, and it was hard to choose the right course. MC felt caught in the tide, her arms seemingly reaching out to grasp at something to keep her steady, but which bough would be the best choice?

As Sebastian sought her lips, kissing her softly, she felt her barriers weakening, and she couldn’t let that happen. She knew how dangerously slippery this slope could be, her body so in tune with his that it was already calling for him. Bringing her hand up between them, she pressed her fingertips to his mouth to halt him, their eyes so close she could almost feel the burn of his gaze.

“I’m here, and I will stay, but this doesn’t mean that everything is fixed,” she said softly, focusing on the steady intake of her breaths. “It will take time, Sebastian. I hope you understand that.”

“Is this because of Prewett?”

She winced slightly, his grip tightening subtly in her hair. “No. This is about learning to trust you again.”

“Can I trust you?” He asked, his eyes dark and brooding. “You are here with me now, but how do I know that you won’t crawl back into his bed once you leave here?”

She met his gaze, the pointed question slamming into her like a rock, because the thought of making a clean cut from Leander actually made her pause and think. The slow patching up of her wounded soul had been rooted in the gentle affection Leander had bestowed upon her, and to rip away from that would likely tear at the fragile healing she was still going through.

“I guess we both need to take a chance if we are ever going to work,” she said carefully. “Like I said, this is going to take some time.”

“That wasn’t a no,” he said, his mouth tightening.

Swallowing down her apprehension, she leaned to press a kiss to his cheek, unable to summon the will to fight this out right now. “Goodnight, Sebastian.”

….*….

It wasn’t quite dawn, the fire long since burned low, and a chill had settled over the cottage. Sitting empty for so long, the damp had encroached, and the house no longer held any of that cosy charm it once had. Sebastian was asleep, his lashes dark and thick against his freckled cheekbones, his hair a riot of tumbled locks. It needed cutting, and there was enough growth on his jaw to almost be a beard. He was a man now, no longer the damaged boy she had first fallen for.

Taking a moment in the dead of night to study him while he slept felt like a luxury after the years spent yearning for him in the thick dark of Azkaban. She still felt like a pinch on her arm would wake her up, and all of this would turn out to be a fever dream, and she would still be in that cell, cold and alone.

Tears stained her cheeks, her eyes tight and aching from the silent crying she had been unable to stop as she lay staring up at the thatched worked ceiling. Sitting up with her arms wrapped around her knees, MC tried to process through the tangled mess of her feelings. It was impossible, none of it made sense, and it made her chest ache to think of losing either of these men who had snuck into her heart. For her own selfishness, she knew to stand without them would take a summoning of immense courage, and she feared she had lost some of that whilst drowning in the dark sorrow of Azkaban.

How to be whole again?

Slipping quietly from the bed, she took out the secret message parchment and wrote to Leander, hoping he hadn’t lain awake all night waiting for her to come back. The tether of their bond was stronger than she would ever likely admit to anyone, and she hated the thought that she would be worrying him. Tapping her wand to her message, she watched the ink fade to nothing before she returned to the bed, taking a steadying breath before gently climbing back onto it.

Perhaps finding her mother would shine a light on things. Taking a look at her past, unravelling some truths and hoping they showed some clues for her future. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she looked down at Sebastian, her hand drifting to gently stroke back a lock of hair from his forehead. He was so very beautiful. Beautiful and fractured, stumbling around in the dark like she was.

Sliding down onto the mattress beside him, she dipped her hand beneath the blanket and found his, clasping it gently. He shifted in his sleep, eyelids fluttering, but he didn’t fully wake. Snuggling closer, MC closed her eyes as she leant her head against his chest to feel his heartbeat, her lips almost curving into a sad smile as his arm circled around her and pulled her closer. Lips pressed against her hair, his fingers squeezing her hand as though in reassurance. For her, or for himself, she wasn’t sure.

Leander

The sun’s morning rays had crept across towards the bed, the glow of the golden haze that came from autumn filtered through the smog of London’s bustle and warmed the bed through the glass window. Leander had blinked his tired eyes and tried not to feel the vacant spot beside him in the bed. Waking up alone felt so hollow now. It was cold and quiet, the bed felt so big and empty without her warmth there beside him.

Dressed and drinking his morning tea, Leander unfolded his secret parchment and tapped his wand to it, putting down his tea cup as MC’s script appeared.

I’m alright. Luella Rookwood clearly doesn’t like me, and I hope this doesn’t pose a problem. I am in Scotland, but I will be back in London soon. I will be in touch once I have faced Rookwood.

Stay safe, Lee, please. Sebastian knows. I’m sorry.

MC xx

Sebastian knows.

She was with him. There wasn’t even a glimmer of smug satisfaction to be found knowing that Sebastian was aware that he took MC to bed. If anything, it merely highlighted the point that she was in deep with the Slytherin, deeper than she probably even realised. He could imagine the way that conversation had gone down, but the lack of her return proved that in choice, she had stayed with Sallow. Clearly, those bridges were still fit for mending.

The office was busy, Aurors and researchers alike working to file reports on some raids that had taken place over night. Leander arrived at his desk and paused, staring in surprise at the blonde girl unpacking a box of personal items onto Odessa’s desk. Her sleek hair was twisted up into a neat knot, exposing the slender column of her neck, skin like porcelain, her movements suggesting grace and confidence as she placed a framed photograph before adjusting its position slightly.

On turning her attention back to her box, she glanced up at him, pausing as a smile spread across her face. Leander could only stand and stare, her smile lighting up her eyes and making them sparkle. “Oh, hello!” She said, brightly, her eyes shifting towards his desk as she stepped closer. “Tall, red hair, and impeccably dressed. You must be Auror Prewett.”

Apparently, he could neither confirm nor deny her observation, his lips parting as though to speak but no words actually forming. He felt the slow burn of his cheeks flushing pink, his hand nervously smoothing his tie as he couldn’t help but admire the slope of her nose. It was a very cute and pretty nose, rather fitting for her lovely face. As for her eyes, well, it was very difficult not to stare at them. Framed with dark lashes, they were a soft brown, large and captivating. There was something rather intriguing about them, in a fiesty and fun way.

“I’m Auror Montgomery,” she said, holding out a slender hand towards him. She grinned. “Gosh, that still sounds so formal and strange to say. Seeing as we are to be colleagues, perhaps it might be alright for you to call me Ivy. I certainly wouldn’t mind, but I suppose that all depends on how much of a stickler you are for the rules.”

Leander looked down at her hand, her cheerful words filtering through the haze of shy insecurity he suddenly felt himself under. “Ivy,” he said, slowly, his gaze returning to her face.

Her smile seemed to lose some of its shine as she studied him, a crease of worry appearing on her brow, her arm going a little slack. “Oh no, have I been too informal already?” She cringed, moving to tuck hair behind her ear despite it being so effortlessly neat already. “I have been known to be a little too forward sometimes. Do forgive me. I was hoping to make a good first impression on my first day, especially to you.”

“Really? Why me?” Genuinely baffled, Leander tilted his head as he considered her more closely. She seemed to be not much younger than himself, bright eyed and keen. A new graduate by the sounds of it, a new Auror in their ranks, and taking the seat of one so recently deceased.

“Am I not to be mentored by you, Auror Prewett?” She asked, turning to ruffle through her box of possessions and pulling out a rolled parchment. Unrolling it, she scanned the note and held it up. “I was told to report to Auror Harrington, which I have done, and then seek out my mentor for further instruction. Auror Harrington confirmed it would be you. You are Auror Prewett, aren’t you?”

His blush darkening even further, Leander looked to his intray on his desk, spying a similar roll of parchment issued by the Head Auror’s office and he winced. It wasn’t like him to slip up on his paperwork, and he cursed himself for allowing a certain ex-convict to distract him so thoroughly.

“Forgive me, Auror Montgomery,” he said, finding his manners. He straightened his perfect tie and held out his hand. “Let’s start this again, shall we? I am, indeed, Auror Prewett. It’s lovely to meet you. Welcome to the office.”

Her smile of delight was so very warm, and she slipped her hand into his, shaking firmly despite her slender fingers being completely dwarfed by his grip. “A pleasure,” she said. “I can’t wait to get started.”

….*….

Sweating and out of breath, Leander pressed a towel to his face and glanced into the locker room mirror, noting the darker shadows under his eyes from too many late nights. Whilst he couldn’t regret his reasons, he felt the drain of tiredness pulling at him after that workout. He couldn’t afford to slack off.

Gathering his things for a shower, he paused as Harrington entered the locker room, robe billowing as he strode towards him.

“There you are, Prewett,” he greeted, nodding once as he came to a pause. “I was hoping to catch you. Have you met our new recruit?”

“Auror Montgomery? Yes, I have. She introduced herself this morning.”

Harrington nodded, pleased. “Excellent. She is a promising young thing, excellent grades, and plenty of ambition. She comes from a good family, too. I think she will be an asset to the team, and that’s why I thought she could shadow you for a while.”

“It would be an honour,” Leander said. “I take it she will be on the Ashwinder case with us?”

Harrington nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes, I thought it would be best to place a fresh face in McKinnon’s seat. A new start, so to speak.”

Harrington hesitated, giving Leander a careful look. “A snitch on the team is always bad for morale, and I know you were disappointed, to say the least. I also warned you about the emotional downfalls of this case, and I couldn’t help but notice how familiar our little prisoner had become with you. I hope you are being careful, Prewett.”

Leander felt his cheeks warm and he shifted position, clutching his towel and shower things a little tighter. “I’m just trying to do the right thing,” he said, lifting his chin in an attempt at confidence. “I won’t deny it can be difficult, but I understand the job.”

“Just so long as you do,” Harrington warned, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’re a fine Auror, Prewett. Don’t let one girl mess that up for you. Taking young Montgomery on field work with you will hopefully remind you about your responsibilities, and being her role model will pay off handsomely in the end.”

Leander wondered how transparent his emotions really were on his face for Harrington to have noticed how much MC had gotten under his skin. So, the new recruit had been placed to distract him, to give him a focus other than their ex convict turned spy. With Montgomery hanging around all the time, there would be less opportunity for him and MC to be alone. Especially if she ceased coming to the flat at night.

“Message received,” he said carefully, his pulse firing rapidly as he thought of all the rule breaking he had been indulging in of late. “I shall aim to be the best of role models.”

“Good man,” Harrington smiled, clapping his shoulder firmly before turning for the door. “Oh, and some of us are heading to the Cauldron for a few beers this evening. You should come along. Perhaps invite your new partner?”

Harrington’s eyebrows twitched suggestively and he grinned before exiting the changing rooms. Leander watched him leave, sighing as the door closed and pressing a hand to his forehead, fingers pinching slightly in pained anxiety.

Auror Montgomery was a very pretty young lady, of course, but his whole body and soul burned for MC. The suggestion that he could turn his affections towards another seemed impossible. He didn’t think he could handle the trappings of it all, his emotions stretched to the limit already. Perhaps he would merely suggest the drinks meet up to Montgomery as a group activity rather than cordially invite her as his guest. It wouldn’t do to start off on the wrong foot, after all.

Sebastian

The return to London had been a dismal one, the skies overcast and the breeze carrying a damp drizzle that seemed to seep into one’s bones. Despite the weather, he felt surprisingly rested considering he had slept in that cold cottage last night. Perhaps the word ‘slept’ was the key factor in things, for he had indeed slept rather well. Glancing beside him at MC, smirking at the way her nose was slightly wrinkled against the tickle of the rain, he knew she was the reason for his deeper rest. Despite the lingering tension over Prewett and Luella, she was still with him, and he almost dared to believe that he could glimpse a hint of something promising in her eyes when they lingered on him. Even if she did skip her gaze hastily away when she caught him staring back.

“Does he always keep you waiting like this?” She grumbled, her head glancing up and down the lake’s edge as she rubbed her hands together. She seemed tense, on edge, but had refused to give a solid reason to explain her request for this meeting. He had the distinct feeling that it was a lot more than just missing an old friend that had made her ask for the owl to be sent first thing this morning.

“You know Ominis,” he smirked. “He is a law unto himself.”

She scoffed, eyeing him in disbelief. “That is rich, coming from you.”

His smirk widened and he pulled the collar up a bit higher on his jacket against the damp. “He will be along, don’t worry. He is a busy man you know, and we did send the owl rather short notice.”

She began to pace again, twisting her hands, her eyes dark and wary as she scanned the London park for any sign of their fellow Slytherin. “I just need to see him.”

“You never really said what it was about,” he probed, head tilting curiously.

Her eyes flicked his way and she seemed to curl in on herself, her teeth pulling at her lip. His eyes narrowed, his brow creasing in thought as he watched her. Something was afoot here, something was bothering her, and he had the strange feeling that it was something about these birth records Prewett had given her. Last night in the maze she had started to talk about it before closing up, the conversation turning to subjects much more volatile, their attention focused on the chaos of their relationship.

“It’s complicated,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I need to ask him a favour.”

“Complicated, you say? Hmm, I do like a challenge,” he said, stepping towards her.

She looked up as he approached, her throat working nervously as he gently cupped her face. He’d always loved intense eye contact with her, he sought it as much as possible, yearned for it even. Even now under the miserable clouds of London, her eyes darkened, the depths expanding to let him in and he savoured the sight, his thumb teasing at her chilled cheek.

“Perhaps I can help,” he whispered. Her soft lips parted and he lowered his face, hungry to taste what he craved, but the distinct tap of a cane and the clearing of a throat interrupted their moment.

“Ominis,” she said, turning from him, stepping out from his touch and heading towards their old friend.

Impeccably presented in expensive black robes, his blonde hair swept fashionably back, Ominis stood proudly under a black umbrella. The epitome of an English gentleman. His head bowed slightly, his lips curving with a hint of pleasure as MC stepped up before him, his eyes shifting from side to side as he subtly aimed his cane in order to seek her out.

“We meet again, my dear,” he greeted. “When Sebastian said you wished to meet with me, I couldn’t help but be curious. The last we spoke, you seemed rather set on your goal. I trust things are running smoothly, despite your obvious proximity to the lord of chaos over here.”

Sebastian frowned as he joined them, hands flexing. “You’re not funny.”

Ominis twisted his mouth in amusement. “Oh, I don’t know. If the cap fits, and all that.”

“I’m still set on my goal, Ominis, and I heeded your words,” MC said, her face rather earnest as she stared at him. “However, this meeting is for another matter entirely. You see, I need your help with something. Something…personal.”

Sebastian stilled, noticing how intently MC was staring at Ominis, free to study him without worry of being caught. Her eyes held a fascination that burned vividly, and if he hadn’t known her better, he might have thought to be envious of the rapt attention she had focused on him.

“Oh? This sounds interesting. How may I be of service, my dear? It must be quite something to haul me out into this awful weather.”

“I’m looking for someone,” she said, her hands twisting together again, a flush staining her cheeks. “You are the only person I can ask this of, Ominis, and I am placing all of my hope onto the possibility that you can help me.”

Something icy began to trickle down Sebastian’s spine, a thick and choking realisation of where this could be headed. He looked at Ominis, saw the curious tilt of his head, and then turned to the anxious plea on MC’s face.

“I see. Well, who are you looking for?”

MC took a steadying breath, and to Sebastian’s surprise, her shaking hand reached out for him, her fingers like ice as she grasped hold of his hand. He wrapped his hand firmly around hers, waiting for the next words out of her mouth.

“I’m looking for Elizabeth Gaunt,” she said, her voice so strained it was breathless.

Sebastian felt the quickening of his pulse, his ears roaring in the silence that followed that name. Ominis went rigid, whatever colour he had in his porcelain complexion faded to a waxy white, his mouth parting in stunned disbelief.

Looking at MC, Sebastian could see the tears welling in her eyes, the savage grip she held on his hand conveying the stress she must have been feeling in that moment. The shocking realisation swept through him and he stared at her with new eyes. She couldn’t be…

Ominis made a choking sound, clearing his throat as his hand gripped his cane with tight control. “And why would you be looking for her?”

“You do know her, then?” MC asked, hope flaring in her eyes. “She is a close relative of yours?”

“She is my aunt,” Ominis said tightly, his face ashen, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “My estranged aunt, I might add. None of us have seen her for many years. What do you want with her?”

A tear escaped and rolled down MC’s cheek, her lips trembling as she stared at Ominis. “Elizabeth Gaunt is my birth mother,” she said, her voice wobbling dangerously. Sebastian gave her hand a squeeze, his other arm swiftly wrapping around her waist as she swayed. “If she is your aunt, then…then that means we are cousins.”

Ominis staggered slightly, his head shaking in denial, a shocked gasp escaping his lips as he began to back up away from them. MC was shaking in Sebastian’s arms, and he held her up, her knees caving as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks, shuddering at the look on Ominis’ face.

“No…that’s impossible…” Ominis muttered, a gloved hand pressing to his mouth. “The only child Aunt Elizabeth ever had died. The child died when she was a baby…”

MC sobbed and Sebastian held her against him, trying to grasp this information himself as he turned a pleading look towards his shaken friend. “Ominis, please,” he said.

“Don’t plead with me,” Ominis snapped, his mouth tightening. “Did you know about this? Where in Merlin’s name did you get this information?”

MC dug into her pocket and retrieved a file, holding it up with a shaking hand. Sebastian took it from her, trying to look reassuring as he pressed a kiss to her head, whilst his mind and heart raced with a million thoughts and feelings. Opening the file, he needed to see this with his own eyes, the inked words confirming the birth record for MC.

“MC has a document from Ministry archives recording her birth,” Sebastian said, maintaining control over his voice as he tried to make sense of it all. “Here, you can check for yourself. It says she was born to Elizabeth Gaunt and a man named William.”

“William Brierley,” Ominis choked, shaking his head. He took the parchment file, daring to slip his wand free in order to read it. “Gods…”

“You know of him? So, it’s true,” MC sobbed, staring at Ominis. “You’re really my family.”

Ominis turned away from them, pacing on the path as he gathered himself, rechecking the evidence he held in his hand. The rain fell softly around them, but none of them paid much heed to it any more, their minds too full of what was unfolding between them. Sebastian held MC in his embrace, soothing a hand against her head as she trembled, crying freely now. When she looked up at him, the fear in her eyes staggered him.

“He hates the very idea of it,” she rasped painfully, wincing.

“Give him a moment, MC,” he urged, his chest tight with worry. “Let him process it. I’m in need of a moment myself.”

“Do you hate the thought of me being a Gaunt, too?”

He stared at her, tears and raindrops dripping from her pale face, her dark hair hanging limply in the cold breeze. He couldn’t help scanning her features, searching for any resemblances he may have missed before, but all he could see was the face of the girl he loved. It mattered not what blood flowed through her veins, a daughter of Slytherin, a witch most powerful and utterly beautiful.

“I could never hate you,” he promised, shaking his head. “So, you’re a Gaunt. I already love one member of that gods forsaken family, perhaps I was destined to love another.”

Sagging against him in relief, she buried her face into him, his arms holding her tight as he glanced across towards Ominis. He seemed to have gathered himself, and he turned, cane angled so he could move towards them. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers gently seeking out MC. Touching her shoulder, he grasped it, and she looked up at him.

“So, cousin,” he said, his pale ethereal eyes shining with unshed tears. “May I call you that?”

As she whimpered, Ominis appeared to reach for her, and Sebastian manoeuvred her into his embrace. Ominis usually wasn’t one for too much physical interaction, so to see him like this pulled at heartstrings in Sebastian’s chest. At Ominis’ gesture, he moved closer to them, joining the embrace so that the three of them stood together, wrapped in each other’s arms. It reminded him of that terrible day when they had discovered Slytherin’s Scriptorium, the dark terror of having to inflict pain in order to survive had bonded the three of them in ways that nobody else would ever understand. They had held each other like this that night, bound by the horror, the secrecy, the shared pain of their memories.

Now, they were bound by something even deeper. They were family, and once again, he felt certain that nobody else would understand it.

Ominis held the birth record, and Sebastian took it, looking down to read the truth of MC’s bloodline again. Realising there was another parchment tucked behind it, he turned the paper over, a curious frown dipping over his brow as he read the details of the orphanage she had grown up in.

As his eyes read the details quickly, Sebastian felt his blood freeze in his veins when they landed on a name that was all too familiar to him. His lungs screamed for air, but it was as though his mind had forgotten how to control his basic bodily needs. He stared and stared until the name and signature blurred out of reality. No wonder she had asked him if he knew about her mother, if he had known who she was all along.

“What is it?” Ominis asked, frowning in his direction. “I felt you tense.”

Blinking through his shock, Sebastian stared at MC, barely managing to draw the breath required to speak. “MC, why is Uncle Solomon’s name on your orphan paperwork?”

Turning her head slowly to look at him, her eyes dark and pained, she fixed him with a look that made him shiver. “I was hoping you would be able to tell me,” she said.

Fate, it seemed, enjoyed kicking the shit out of him far too much.

To be continued...

Ivy Montgomery is an OC character created and owned by @eternalremorse Used with her kind permission 💜

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

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #leander prewett x mc #leander prewett #blood bound #blueraineshadows

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