#Sebastian Sallow x male mc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

philliam-writes · 1 year ago

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on that tree i'll carve our names (01)

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem! Hufflepuff Reader; Sebastian Sallow x Male MC

Synopsis: You have never believed or trusted in Prophecy, not with the way you were brought up. Paying attention to Prophecy is like tossing real diamonds in the air mixed with shards of broken glass. The grab is rarely worth the injury. But when the new fifth year arrives, so do trouble and mischief, and you're inadvertently thrust into adventures and secrets too grand to deal with by yourself. Yet with hardships come friendships, and while you learn to trust the new student with your life, you're less keen on trusting the cunning Sallow boy or the quiet Gaunt heir. Still waters run deep, as they say, and you can't shake off the feeling something dark hides at the bottom of those white-veiled unseeing eyes.

content: canon divergence, fighting prophecy, enemies to friends, reluctant soulmates, platonic soulmates, slow burn, basically HL but Reader isn't MC, angst, hurt and comfort, Sebastian and Reader can't stand each other (until much later), they're all mean, because they're starving for love, will love and kill for each other, dark(ish) ominis, satisfying female rage, also Quidditch because screw Black

notes: [02]

words: 5.9k

a/n: this is so self-indulgent, i don't even know if i'll keep this up. but right now i need to get this out of my system, so here is tragic platonic soulmates with delicious slow burn for borth of them and my favourite slytherin boys. hope you enjoy!

01: hawthorn makes the heart burn

The new student has been at Hogwarts for only a week, and already you cannot stand him.

It’s got nothing to do with the fact that he is a Slytherin. You have never been a fan of the sorting system, because even if it is partly at fault for sticking kids into boxes and teaching them to think in categories, the students surely don’t make it better living by these stereotypes. Not all Slytherins are bad people, just like not all Gryffindors are brave; not every Ravenclaw is a genius, and not every Hufflepuff is a saint, e.g.: You.

“You’re joking! Three Sickles and fifteen Knuts for a Pocket Sneakscope? That’s way too expensive!”

Lifting your eyes from the list of gadgets you need to buy on your next trip to Hogsmeade, you raise an eyebrow at the second-year Ravenclaw boy. He’s taller than most of his fellow housemates, shows signs of a long, hawkish nose and has pimples scattered on his cheeks like a Leaping Toadstool Cap. You can’t really remember his name. Freddy or Fred or August, maybe.

This early in the morning before classes start, the air is especially thick with the smell of late-summer: sweet buddleia in full bloom, the rich green leaves of trees as they sway gently in the wind. Mist hangs low in the valley and over the Great Lake, a milky curtain hiding its resident gently poking long tentacles into the warm sun. The castle is only slowly waking up after a short night—the last grace of long summer days approaching their end as October draws closer.

A beautiful landscape you can hardly enjoy with the second-year’s whiny voice buzzing around your head like an annoying mosquito.

“Look, you wanted a Pocket Sneakscope, I got it for you,” you say and unhitch yourself from the cool stone pillar, one of many holding up the roof of the Viaduct Courtyard’s passageway. “It’s not my fault the underground path is infested with spiders.”

Damned Weasley could have warned you though. You have been using the secret passage under the humpbacked, one-eyed witch leading to the cellar of Honeydukes since your second year when you spied Garreth Weasley sneak through it, and since then you both agreed on staying out of each other’s way as long as nobody rats out the secret passageway to the faculty. He gets to obtain whatever he needs for his weird concoctions, and you get to continue your little business of providing first and second years whatever they want from Hogsmeade since they can’t go themselves yet—all for a certain price. It makes trips to Hogsmeade easier when you can’t use your broom, though the occasional acid spit launched your way is less favourable than the breathtaking view of Hogwarts towering majestically as the sun sets, throwing the whole castle in stark, black contrast against the warm, orange sky.

“Unless you want someone else to get you stuff from Hogsmeade,” you continue with a shrug. “Good luck finding them though.” You move to put the Sneakscope back into your pocket, barely managing to keep on a neutral expression when Freddy or Fred or August, maybe, gasps as though you have reached into the Ravenclaw’s house point hourglass, grabbed a handful sapphires and chucked them at the Headmaster.

“It’s just—it’s just a whole Sickle more than I can spend this month!” he protests, but judging by the quiver of his voice he’ll eat out of your hand in no time.

You give your brightest smile. “Not my problem.”

The Ravenclaw-boy fumes, but when you hold out your hand, he slaps the coins into your open palm, his pale face blotched red with fury.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” You hand over his Pocket Sneakscope and watch him stamp off towards the double doors leading inside the entrance hall. He stops with a small, pale hand on the bronze doorknob, turns around as by his touch alone the doors squeal open with the magic that recognises students entering. “You are the worst Hufflepuff at this school!” he shouts and quickly dashes inside.

You don’t know why he felt the need to point it out. It’s not as though people don’t know who you are: the Hufflepuff who burnt down the left greenhouse in her second year when trying Incendio after agreeing to a bet; the Hufflepuff who broke a Ravenclaw’s nose because said Ravenclaw accused her of cheating in Defence Against the Dark Arts; the Hufflepuff who smoked Silverweed in a corner under the Great Staircase in her third year to see if it would yield any relaxing effects; the Hufflepuff who actually cheated on her very first exam in History of Magic—all in all the Hufflepuff who really should have been sorted into Slytherin on her first day, according to everybody else. Except the Slytherins have no love left for you because you wear yellow.

It is a wonder you have not been expelled yet, surely to do with the fact that despite it all, one student outshines your delinquent record. Your grades are passable, neither at the very top nor bottom, though you do have a knack for quickly learning spells and charms. What keeps you in somewhat good grace is being the Beater for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team—and what a Beater you are: ruthless and quick with strong arms. Maybe not as fast as Slytherin’s Captain on a broom, but you feel comfortable enough up in the air. All your problems seem so much smaller when you soar through the sky. Speaking of Quidditch, a Gryffindor second-year asked you to get a fake Snitch to practice for the team’s try-outs. Hopefully the Spintwitches Sporting Needs opens within in the next week; you’re in need of a new broomstick servicing kit, preferably before practice starts.

You move towards the Great Hall before they clear out breakfast. You did ask Javi to save up some Pumpkin Pastries for you, but he’s been in a foul mood since yesterday because Peeves destroyed a bust in the Astronomy Tower and he had to take the brunt of it. But while you’re crossing the courtyard, you notice a shadow standing under a wide archway, tall and sinewy, though body shapes are usually hard to guess under the loose, floaty school robes. Yet you know that despite looking lanky, this boy is nimble and quick, and his presence is utterly unappreciated—that is how the circle closes; the reason why you can’t stand him.

Even from this distance, you can make out Callum St. Jude’s pale grey eyes—they stand stark against his unruly map of ink-black hair. Paired with skin pale as moonlight, he looks like one of Hogwarts’s residual ghosts.

You feel your face turn into a scowl. It seems that no matter where you are these days, he is lurking nearby. At first you thought he was spying on you to check out the competition for tonight’s Crossing Wands duel. It is the finale after all. But when you had confronted him about it, catching him on his way down to the Slytherin dungeons in the Grand Staircase after your shared Charms class, he had considered you with a blank expression. “Who are you?” he’d asked, looking down at you from a few steps above.

Behind him, trailing him like a shadow since day one, Sebastian Sallow had sniggered. “Seems like you already have admirers,” he’d said with his insufferable haughty voice. “Though that Hufflepuff is more trouble than she’s worth.”

You were about to show him trouble, face hot with shame, when Javi hauled you up, hands under your armpits, and carried you away as if you were a sack of potatoes. “You can’t get detention now, it’s still the first week,” Javi had said mildly.

At least it would have been worth it. It would have been so satisfying to blast that cocky grin off Sallow’s face, to silence St. Jude’s little mocking huff. You firmly believe St. Jude is suffering from the worst ailment to date: Main Character Syndrome.

The symptoms have been evident since his first day: joining Hogwarts as a fifth-year, arriving late to the Sorting Ceremony due to a dragon attack, besting Sallow on his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson (though you can hardly criticise him knocking Sallow down a peg) and mastering every new spell and charm as though it is as easy as breathing. Just last week, he fought off a grown troll and defended Hogsmeade, and now the whole school doesn’t shut up about it.

It is with eager anticipation that you await tonight’s Crossed Wands’s finale. Your fingers practically itch to draw your wand and Flipendo him just to juggle him around a little and wipe that blank expression off his face. He is beautiful, you hate to admit, feeling a sour taste in the back of your throat, but he’s using that face in all the wrong ways. He has the sort of face they’d probably frame in a museum, the kind that’s unbelievably pretty, but unattainable.

“Preying upon second years this early?” St. Jude tuts. “It seems there really is no rest for the wicked.”

“Looks as though I am already punished for it,” you grumble. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

St. Jude cocks his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “Interesting way to talk to someone you fancy.”

“I do not,” you press out between gritted teeth, shouldering past him as he steps into the entrance hall first, “fancy you.” You hope the Thunderbrew potion will be the first you’ll learn in Potions class. Watching St. Jude getting struck by lightning would lighten your mood considerably.

“For someone who pretends not to be interested in me,” he continues, ignoring you, “I see you around an awful lot.”

You consider tripping him as you two ascend the stairs. “Yes, that seems to be the very problem.”

“Won’t make me take it easy on you tonight though.” Since he is nowhere near a gentleman, he doesn’t hold the door open for you and it almost slams in your face. “I always duel to win.”

“I hope you don’t mind spending the next couple of days in the hospital wing.” You bump into his shoulder, hard, when you finally enter the Great Hall and immediately aim for the Hufflepuff table to the far right of the hall without another glance at him.

The hall is buzzing with students, the air filled with the tasty smell of crispy bacon, grilled leak, slightly burnt toast with melting butter on top. It isn’t as crowded as at lunch or dinner time—most students tend to skip breakfast to either sleep in after a long study night or use the hour before classes to finish assignments and homework.

The ceiling shows a clear blue sky with thin clouds drifting past lazily. You slide in the free seat next to your fellow Beater near the front of the table. Javier García is shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth, his bright brown eyes fixed on the Daily Prophet. In your first year, you didn’t pay much attention to him. If you look up Hufflepuff Student in any dictionary, it will show Javi’s face—a hard-working, loyal individual that always reminds you of a golden retriever until he steps on the field and turns into a pit bull from a fighting ring. Every summer he returns to his muggle family where he helps tending to the crops and fields, evident in his arms the size of tree trunks used to heavy lifting. Perfect for hitting Bludgers at opponents and slamming them off their brooms.

You pour yourself coffee and begin spooning slabs of apple-cinnamon-oatmeal into a bowl.

“Ranrok’s Loyalists have put up more camps around the Hogwarts highlands,” Javi says, mouth half-full. “It looks like they’re moving closer towards Hogwarts.”

“Why would they come to Hogwarts? There’s nothing here.”

“The castle has tons of secrets still uncovered. Why wouldn’t they try and get inside?”

“As if they’d manage to get through the defences. Hogwarts is impenetrable.” You take a long sip from your cup, hoping the caffeine kicks in fast. “No one’s going to get inside. Forget about the goblins. Did you see the Quidditch board? Our first game this season is against Gryffindor.”

Javi groans. “I hate their Seeker. Too small to hit with a Bludger, too quick to slam off the broom. We might as well throw in the towel.”

“Don’t let Captain hear that or she’ll turn you into a fox and wear you as a collar.” The Hufflepuff’s Quidditch Captain, Mary J. Lockwood, is sweet in pretty much every aspect except when it comes to Quidditch, and she never hesitates making you take the brunt of it. You’ve stopped counting how often she’d condemned you to run laps around the field as punishment for talking back or disrupting practice.

You finish breakfast and quickly drop by the common room to get your parchments and books for Divination class, hoping it will let time pass quickly until evening. But while staring for roughly an hour into the lazily swirling fog inside a crystal ball without an answer to how this year’s Quidditch season will end, time seemed to move slower than a snail. After dozing off twice and woken up by Adeleide Oakes’s pointy elbow to your ribs before Professor Onai could notice, the class finally ends.

Next up is Herbology and after that you’ve got two free periods until lunch and then end the day with double Potions. It’s a slow day for a Wednesday, and you can’t wait until practice starts in October to give you some change from sitting for hours in the library and going through dusty old tomes or watch the first and second-years getting roped up into playing Gobstones in the common room by the older students, filling it with the putrid smell of its foul liquid. You just enjoy being outdoors more. Which is why Herbology is somewhat fun, even if you and Javi prefer to pass time by betting on who can stick their finger closest to a Chinese Chomping Cabbage, earning a scornful side glance from Leander Prewett.

You promised Samantha Dale and Nellie Oggspire to work on the assigned group project for the essay on Ghouls for DADA during your free period, but when you’re about to set out to the Great Hall to grab a few snacks before going through the list of books you’ll need from the library, Professor Garlick appears before you suddenly as though sprouting from the ground like a flower.

“Oh, delightful, my dear, there you are!” she beams. Small brown parcels flutter around her head like butterflies. “Here is the delivery for Mr. Ollivander, if you’d be so kind and bring them to him now.”

Just in case, you look behind you. Nobody there on the stairs leading up to the central hall. Even Javi has made himself scarce already. She really is talking to you.

“Why me, Professor?” Someone must have hit you with Obliviate. You can’t remember having agreed to any favour for her.

“Oh? Frederick Gustave told me you would offer! Quite an attentive, nice boy! He will grow into a splendid Ravenclaw student one day!” Frederick Gustave? In Ravenclaw? You don’t know anyone called Frederick or Gustave or—the thought strikes you like lightning. Freddy, Fred or August. “All you need to do is bring these little parcels to Mr. Ollivander in Hogsmeade. These are magically nourished woods he has requested, and I am quite eager to see the results for myself.”

With a flick of her wand the parcels change course and begin to circle around your head before you can even begin to explain that this is a huge misunderstanding. She pats your cheek affectionately and twirls around, descending the stairs back to her flowery domain.

Javi is waiting for you at the top of the stairs, ignoring your scowl as he whistles the tune of The School of Jolly Dogs. His face lights up. “Since you’re heading to Hogsmeade, can you bring me some white Chocolate Frogs? Mine hopped out of the window last night because Arty forgot to close it.”

You answer with a rude hand gesture and stomp out of the hall, heading for where you keep your brooms stashed in the Hufflepuff locker room.

~ ⋆｡°✩ ~

The flight to Hogsmeade takes longer than usual. Every time you move too fast, the parcels begin to cry and whine like little abandoned ducklings until they catch up to you. Other than that, it is a beautiful morning as the sun keeps dipping in and out between wispy smears of clouds on the wide blue canvas. The tiny, homey town is alive with witches and wizards scurrying around to get their errands done. The novelty and excitement from visiting Hogsmeade in your third-year has worn off after two years, but it’s still a nice change from the dark school corridors and unending spiralling stair cases.

You leave your broom leaning next to the entrance of Mr. Ollivander’s shop. This shouldn’t take more than five minutes, darting in and out; you’re pretty sure you’ll be quicker than a Niffler digging through a pile of Galleons.

The door swings open easily. It has been five years since you last set foot into the small, cramped shop, yet nothing has changed and suddenly you feel as though you’re eleven again, entering for the first time. It smells of polished wood and something burnt underneath like a misplaced Incendio. Nearly every wall is stacked high with countless wands up to the ceiling, waiting to choose their witch or wizard. Back then you felt very small as a first year, anxious and excited to finally attend Hogwarts and get your own wand—the very first object that truly belonged to you and was not one of your older sisters’ hand-me-downs.

From the back of the shop you hear heavy knocks and a shrill screeching sound that makes you want to put your hands to your ears. Just like five years ago, you reach for the bronze bell on the counter but before your fingers can touch it, it lifts on its own and jingles beautifully. The knocking immediately stops, followed by a last dull clatter and then Mr. Ollivander emerges from the back room, dusting himself off.

He looks at you over the rim of his golden glasses, and a small smile spreads on his face as recognition dawns. The wide counter flap squeaks open when he swishes his wand to step through.

“Ah, the Hawthorn girl,” he says in greeting, quickly closing the space between you and taking your hands in his; you feel every wrinkle against your palm, every patch of rough skin from decades of work as he squeezes your hands. “I have hoped that I would see you soon.”

The question mark must be evident on your face, for Mr. Ollivander explains, “I remember every student and wand I paired, and you my dear, I remember the day five years ago when you came to my shop and your wand found you. Spiral, twelve inches, and a phoenix feather core. Unyielding. But what makes your wand so special is the wood it is made of. Hawthorn makes such a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death.” He chuckles to himself, blinking as if lost in a memory; not noticing how tense you are and the way your uneasy smile curls downward. As though you could forget what the hawthorn means. But instead of allowing your mother’s voice inside your head and poisoning your heart, you square your shoulders and pull your hands away from Mr. Ollivander’s grasp.

“Delivery from Professor Garlick,” you say with a faux cheery voice. It seems only then does Mr. Ollivander notice the parcels still fluttering around your head.

“Ah, yes, yes! Allow me.” He points his wand at the parcels, then to his back room and they float through the shop in rank and file, all in proper order. “And here of course, the payment.” Mr. Ollivander hurries behind the counter, and produces a heavy pouch that he hands over to you. It jangles handsomely when you take it from him.

“Well then, I wish you a nice da—”

“Tell me, dear, have you met him?”

Feet already pointed towards the entrance, you turn your body halfway back. “Met who, sir?”

Mr. Ollivander looks up from the account books he’s been writing in. Something glints in his eyes, but maybe it’s just the reflection on his glasses. “Why, the Blackthorn boy of course.”

You rack your brain for anyone you know who’s called Blackthorn but come up empty. “I’m afraid I have not made any acquaintance like that, sir.”

The wandmaker’s eyes are calm, a sparkling blue of sunlight lancing off a stream. “I see,” he says. “Well, my part of this was fulfilled when I matched your wants with you. Everything else is up to you.” He gives you a little secret smile, then goes back to his ledger, the conversation clearly over even though you have dozens of questions swirling in your head.

Back out on Lower High Street, you have been released of the fluttering parcels and instead Mr. Ollivander’s words torment your mind. You can feel a memory hiding behind a thick fog, blurry and barely visible but its presence heavy and lurking like a ghost.

Wasn’t there something he had told you five years ago? When he had presented your wand to you, still resting in its narrow satin casket. You were too excited to pay him any mind—it had sounded too much like one of your mother’s stories; like an augury or worse even, a prophecy—when he had told you about a cursed kingdom, two brothers, and a hawthorn and blackthorn tree. Why listen to old fairy tales when the real adventure—Hogwarts—was waiting for you?

Besides, if by ‘Blackthorn boy’ he meant someone with a blackthorn wand, finding that person would be nearly impossible. And why would you look for him in the first place? Superstitions and divinations have no place in your life. Not after how it had dictated your childhood with a cold iron fist.

The trip back to Hogwarts is significantly faster without having to look after enchanted parcels behaving like newborn Fwoopers. With what happened at Mr. Ollivander’s, you completely forgot to drop by Honeydukes for Javi, which makes him look like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day.

You manage to start your essay for the group project, although you don’t get nowhere near where you wanted to be before the match. Lunch is a blur of tasty shepherd’s pie and grilled mushroom skewers with a small handful of students passing where you sit to wish you good luck, pattung your shoulder hard enough you almost choke on your pumpkin juice. Others send you little notes with crude drawings showing St. Jude zapping you with a spell and losing tonight’s duel. The messages are charmed to head dive into your cup and plate, splattering mashed potatoes on your uniform.

Adeleide plucks a nervously flapping piece of paper out of your meal and unfolds it. “At least they’re creative,” she notices mildly.

You throw a wary glance at the note. “That doesn’t even look like me.”

“I don’t know.” Javi slurps loudly from his cup. “They got your scowl right.”

Double Potions after lunch flies by for a change. Your Wiggenweld Potion tends to be a tad bluer than Professor Sharp’s apple green concoction bubbling at the front table for reference, but you have a hard time focusing when your mind is already occupied with how tonight’s duel might go.

You have a handful favourite spells that you’ve practised long enough they come as easy to you as breathing. But from what you have seen during the last Crossed Wands duels where St. Jude has participated, he seems to have a natural gift for duelling. You’ve heard he competed alongside Sallow in his first duel, but every after he’s been on his own and you’ve seen the battered and bruised leftover competitors limping out of the Clock Tower. You don’t plan to follow in their footsteps.

When evening falls on the castle and the long, narrow corridors awake with dim candlelight, you follow the throng of hooded students hurrying towards the Clock Tower after dinner. The excitement ripples through the lines of people like a physical force, alive and rearing when the first students file into the Clock Tower and find a seat close to the walls and away from accidental stray spells.

You spot Lucan Brattleby surrounded by a handful Hufflepuff and Slytherin students. Javi is among them, and when you draw closer you notice the ledger in Lucan’s hand and the Sickles being passed between him and Javi.

Javi startles when you step next to him like a Mooncalf facing an oncoming card. “Hiya,” he says in the very familiar voice that sounds a lot like him hoping you won’t be mad.

You raise an eyebrow. “Placing bets?” Your eyes linger on the page as you scan the names on the chart on your side. Only a few names—Leander, who’s been especially snappy since he lost against St. Jude in the semifinals, a handful other Gryffindors, one or two Ravenclaws and the rest are students from your house. On St. Jude’s column, Lucan has started to write the names as tiny as possible to fit them all on the page. Javi’s is amongst them. He ducks away from your scrutinising gaze. “He slew a fully-grown troll last week!” he pleads his case. So much for the infamous Hufflepuff loyalty. “I’ll invite you to Honyedukes after and pay whatever you want from the win.”

“Whatever.” You turn away to get ready, walking into a hard, solid body.

Callum St. Jude steadies you before you can stumble. “Easy there.” His smile slices white. “Am I already sweeping you off your feet? We haven’t even started yet.”

You shrug his hand off your arm. “The only sweeping happening today is when I wipe the floor with you, St. Jude.”

He hums thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”

You stare daggers at his back as he retreats to his side of the hall, welcomed by other Slytherin students who pat his back and ruffle his unruly jet-black hair as though he is the fifth year’s Champion already. He doesn’t linger around them for too long, and instead retreats to a far corner where Sallow is already waiting for him. What an annoying duo.

Tugging your black robe off, you begin to stretch your limbs. For today’s occasions you’ve chosen to wear a simple shirt with ribbon uniform tucked into your plaid trousers. More mobility, less fabric flapping around. A tie or a blazer would allow too much surface for a nasty Accio. From the last duels you’ve watched, you know St. Jude is as sharp as a whip, and he uses everything in his so far meagre arsenal of spells to win.

You’ll need to keep all your wits about you. If he, and the majority assembled under the giant swinging pendulum today, underestimate you, it will be your pleasure to remind them what vicious creatures badgers are. And that they devour snakes.

When you turn, St. Jude is already standing ready, his wand raised. He’s shrugged out of his robes as well and pulled off his tie, following your example. Gone is the hint of the cocky smile he always wears, so infuriating and inviting to punch. Now he is serious, his face an impassive mask that betrays nothing but you have seen it change within a heartbeat before knocking an opponent out with a savage blast of his wand. Like a snake, waiting and watching, until it strikes viciously and sinks its venomous fangs into your skin.

“Attention!” Lucan Brattleby hops in the centre, his arms raised. “Wizards and witches! Welcome to the fifth year’s Crossed Wands Championship Round!” He lets the audience get the whistling and bellowing out of their system before he introduces both parties. “Competitors, let’s get started!”

He quickly dashes out of the way—rightly so, for St. Jude’s opening move is always a lightning-quick Levioso, just like Professor Hecat taught him. You dodge the spell and hear it disperse against the wall behind you, feeling the sparks nip your skin.

“Accio!” You whip your wand towards you, only able to catch St. Jude by the cuff of his white sleeve as he evades with a side-step. But it’s enough to unbalance him as his arm is pulled in your direction and he retaliates by using the moment to blast a few Basic Casts your way which you block by well-timed Protegos.

The crowd’s cheers disappears into background noise as you and St. Jude continue your tense dance of attack and parry; a step forward, another step back, his Incendio is answered by your Glacius; since he prefers fire you do him the pleasure of casting Confringo which forces him to dive to the side. Your spell blasts the wooden weapon rack behind him into splinters and pieces, showering the Slytherins sitting beside it with glowing embers.

“Come on, new guy, give her a proper Slytherin treatment!” one of them yells. St. Jude doesn’t let himself get distracted, not even by the instructions of his fellow housemates or the quips from your side of the room. His eyes are pinning you like a butterfly on a corkboard, following your every step. They are frighteningly bright, you have the feeling that no move will go past him.

From behind you, you pull a large crate from under the buttocks of two Gryffindors with Accio, ignoring their protests when in the last second you fling it bodily towards St. Jude with Depulso. You’ve been working on the right timing for this for a long time—people usually don’t expect to be thrown at with things instead of spells. It hurls through the hall, and to your utter astonishment St. Jude blocks it in the last second with a flying object of his own—a practice dummy.

But where was the spell? You didn’t see him cast one when he hurled that dummy through the air.

At your puzzled expression, St. Jude grins at you, his smile so sudden and jarring as a thunderclap. You narrow your eyes. There’s something growing in the pit of your stomach, rearing its ugly head and snapping sharp, volatile teeth. Basic Casts don’t feel enough, and every vicious Diffindo St. Jude parries or dodges in the last moment. His retaliation is a fiery Incendio after Incendio—you’d think after this time one of you would grow weaker, lose focus, but the heat flaring your way and the flames licking up your uniform feel anything but harmless or tame.

Sweat runs down your temples, along your cheeks, down your neck. Your wand feels hot in your hand, but you grip it tighter, knuckles white. Your lungs feel tight in your chest, but you breathe in stronger, eyes wide. That rage that always lives inside you rears. It is an almost physical pain, like nails against flesh; like teeth against bars. That unwanted animal is starving, it wants nothing more than to get out and you’re surprised nobody else can hear it howling.

“Not as quick or cunning as that Sallow boy, but her spells pack a mean punch,” they say about you. You couldn’t best Sallow, and now there is this new contender and you refuse, refuse to slide down to number three; always coming in last, always pushed aside. You snarl at St. Jude as though trying to wrap your teeth around the world.

The air crackles with magic. Faintly, you hear an echo of a familiar voice. “Do not be surprised at your wand’s ability to perceive your intentions—particularly in a moment of need.”

It seems your wand shares your taste for violence—you can feel that this is the best Expulso you have executed since you taught yourself the spell in year four. You swing your arm, wand scorching hot in your hand—vibrating even—and hurl the Blasting Spell at St. Jude.

You can see his mouth move as he speaks a spell, blue sparks fly from the tip of his wand and then crackling lightning intercepts your attack. Through the sparks and bolts you see St. Jude’s puzzled expression—now is the chance to strike. A surprised opponent is a weak opponent; you swing your arm back—your arm is stuck.

From the tip of your wand a wiry crimson light crackles across the room, connected to St. Jude’s wand. When you try pulling back again, an invisible force lurches you forward, forcing your arm up until the thin light grows stronger, redder like spilt blood. Your arm shakes with the feeling of wrongness crawling up your arm, a kernel of god-awful flavour that has you biting your bottom lip. You feel an awareness. No. More than awareness, more sentient than that. It is recognition.

The point of your wand, shining a blazing white, shakes with the effort of you trying to pull back; shakes from whatever magic is transpiring between you two. On the other side, St. Jude has his free hand around his other wrist, trying to lower his wand, his face as white as a wall. To no avail.

The magic spreading from your wand through your body is like curious, warm fingers touching up along your arm, curling around your shoulder, settling against your cheek. They wander lower and splay across your chest, then sink through your ribs. Close around your heart. Squeeze.

The world explodes.

The magical blast sends you flying. Your teeth clang together as you slam on your back. Pain radiates through your body. Black dots dance before your eyes and blur your vision as you’re struggling for air.

A hushed silence has settled inside the Clock Tower. You shake your head, your free hand rising to your chest where you still feel a sharp twinge. Gingerly, you pick yourself up, carefully feeling for injuries. The whole room is a mess as though a wild Graphorn has ravaged inside and destroyed most of the furnishings. When your eyes lock with St. Jude’s across the room, your heart beats in your throat, making it hard to breathe.

Mirroring you, one hand is pressed against his chest, the other holds his wand in a vice-grip as though his life depends on it. You see him shudder helplessly, as if it were winter and he has gone outside without gloves and caught a terrible chill. His eyes meet yours, then drop to your wand. His lips mouth a single word, and you stare at him, throat tight, the cold sweat sensation of dread spreading slowly through your limbs.

And all of a sudden, you remember very clearly one thing Mr. Ollivander had told you all those years ago.

Once your paths cross, your fates will be irrevocably connected, growing together like the roots of old trees. Your wands have come from the same seed. There is no doubt that you fill find him.

Your Blackthorn boy.

A/N: If anyone is interested in this story, I can make a taglist :) Would also appreciate any sort of feedback, or just hitting the little heart so show me you enjoyed it

#hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x male mc #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis x reader #ominis x you #ominis x y/n #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #phill.hl

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imthejudge · 2 years ago

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on the topic of ignorance

Sebastian Sallow x m!MC

Word count: 3.9 k

Tags: fluff

Read on Archive

In which our beloved Sebastian Sallow is most upset with MC and attempts to avoid him, when in actuality he is the one being avoided. A fact that simply does not sit well with him.

“We’re not talking.”

Sebastian promptly takes his seat beside his best friend and fellow Slytherin, Ominis, as students begin to filter into the Charms classroom for their afternoon lesson.

“Who’re you talking about?” Ominis sends a perplexed expression his way.

“Who do you think?” Sebastian’s words are short and impatient.

It only takes one guess as Ominis drawls out in a now bored fashion at the realization, “are you talking about MC?”

“Yes, obviously I’m talking about MC!” He hisses in an aside to his friend.

“Good,” Ominis turns away from Sebastian, drawing his attention away to place his wand on the table in front of him. “Then you can finally stop bringing the poor lad into your affairs. He seems far too busy as it is.”

Sebastian furrows his brow, blinking at Ominis in disbelief. “My affairs–he was the one who wanted to get involved in the first place, you know.”

“Whatever you say, Sebastian. I just think you put too much on him sometimes.”

He’s annoyed, not bothering to hide the fact that it’s because Ominis isn’t siding with him–even when he’s his best friend, and by default should side with him no matter what–to the point where he is now fully scowling. “Is this because of what happened at the Scriptorium?”

A slightly panicked look crosses Ominis’ face. Sebastian can’t help the little bit of satisfaction that flickers within him at getting a response out of Ominis, aware of how uncomfortable the topic makes him. Ominis faces him once more, leaning in closer with a lowered tone, “Can we not speak of this here, I don’t want you casually mentioning what happened out in the open like this. You know it still haunts me.”

It was true that what had transpired in his, Ominis’, and MC’s search for Salazar Slytherin’s scriptorium was unpleasant–to say the least–but Sebastian stands by that it was necessary in order to extract the information they’d received. He knows MC would agree, too.

“Oh, come off it, Ominis. It’s fine. But okay, I’ll drop it.” Sebastian leans back in his chair, casting his gaze to the door where students continue coming in from. “Besides, this is to do with a disagreement we had and I only wanted to say that we are collectively going to ignore MC together. So no being friendly when he comes in, okay?”

It’s Ominis’ turn to frown now, the corners of his lips pulled down. “You might have the luxury to avoid whoever you want for a bit of overdramatic reason, but I–for one–would like to keep the few friends that I have. Do whatever you want, Sebastian, I won’t be a part of this.” He fully turns his back on Sebastian now to face the front of the classroom.

He supposes he understands, Ominis has always had a hard time getting people to like him, nevermind trust him. He was a Gaunt, after all. The family name carried quite the reputation within the school, and not one other students–or teachers alike–saw to fondly.

Sebastian never cared, Ominis was his oldest and closest friend, having struck up their acquaintance and fast growing friendship back in first year alongside his sister, Anne. The three had always been inseparable, and Ominis had gone through more than anyone could ever imagine while still retaining a kind soul.

The only other person to look past his name and the fear it brought out was MC, who’d been quick to extend an introduction and a smile when meeting Ominis and him in their first class together.

But all that aside, Sebastian can’t help the irritation at his request being turned down by Ominis. Not that it really matters, he’ll do a fine job of ignoring MC on his own. He’d been waiting for this moment since his and MC’s last conversion in the Undercroft. After MC had disclosed knowing–and working with–the enemy. A goblin, of all creatures. He couldn’t believe it. And by extension, Sebastian hasn’t spoken to him since.

That had been the evening before the weekend, and now that Tuesday has approached alongside their first shared class of the week, Sebastian is eager for MC to show up so he can follow through with his plan to ignore him completely. That’ll teach him.

Most of his classmates have now settled at their desks, distributing themselves away from the classroom entrance where they’d crowded before the start of class neared. Sebastian feels a jab of disappointment when Garreth is the last to slip inside before Professor Ronan swiftly walks down the stairs from his office and shuts the door to the classroom with a flick of his wand.

“Alright everyone, shall we begin?”

“He never showed up.”

Ominis points the observation to Sebastian–as if he already didn’t know–while Sebastian paces the small alcove in front of the windows that look into the lake where Ominis leisurely leans against. It’s his preferred area of the Slytherin common room to hang out in, and Sebastian is finding himself joining Ominis here more often as of late.

“You don’t think I’ve noticed?” He squints over at Ominis, a look of frustration plastered across his face and seeping into his voice just the same.

After Charms class came and went, Sebastian expected MC to show up the following day in the morning at Defence Against the Dark Arts to little avail. But no matter, since they also shared Herbology in the afternoon. Only, there was no sign of MC then, either. Wednesday was a lost cause as their houses do not cross paths again until Friday. But that day came and went, too, without so much as a glimpse of him.

Sebastian lets out a frustrated sigh, turning sharply on his heel to take the couple of steps he’s been pacing on repeat beside Ominis. He knew MC had other, more pressing assignments at times, but this was just ridiculous. If the two of them were on speaking terms, he’d be quite cross with how absent he’s been.

“Well, it’s a good thing then, isn’t it? He’s too busy to take part in classes with you. Therefore you don’t have to waste so much energy in trying to avoid him.” Ominis comments casually.

This only spurs Sebastian on further, “No, it’s not a good thing! He’s not around for me to show how annoyed I am with him! He needs to know, Ominis. He needs to be around for me to ignore.”

Ominis’ brow creases, “I don’t follow, you want him to show up to class so you can… pretend he’s not in class? Is this… is this some sort of attempt at courting I’m not familiar with?”

“Ugh, no, I’m not trying to–to court him! You don’t understand…” Sebastian shakes his head in continued frustration. Though, he’s secretly glad that Ominis can’t pick up on the way his cheeks have tinged ever so slightly red.

“No, apparently not.” Ominis replies shortly. Sebastian decides to drop the topic for the evening, slumping into a chair opposite of Ominis and burying his face in one of the many books he’s preoccupied himself with since the beginning of the school year.

“I hope they’re okay.”

Ominis says, out of the blue–even if what he knows the subject to be is constantly at the forefront of Sebastain’s mind.

“Of course he’s okay.” He snaps, a little too harshly, so he continues, this time with less malice, “I mean, I’m sure Professor Figg has pulled him out of school to do more of those ancient-magic-trial-things.”

Another two weeks have passed where the both of them still haven’t seen or heard from MC. Worry over him has seeped in the back of Sebastian’s mind, too. But his annoyance, and certainty that he wasn’t in any real danger, won out in the end.

“He could have at least told us.” Sebastain states sourly as him and Ominis trudge side by side on their way to Magical Beasts. He has his arm looped with Ominis’, practically barreling down the path that leads out of the campus grounds to the hut where Madam Howin teaches.

“Maybe he’s upset with you, too–also, could you slow down please? You’re going to make me trip over something.”

“Upset with me? You’re joking.” Sebastian slows his pace, but only slightly. “No, this is a lapse in judgment, it happens to the best of us. Soon he’ll realize the error of his ways and come back apologizing. And I will be here to graciously accept him back into our graces with open arms. I am fair, after all.”

A sly smile appears on Ominis’ face, “so you do miss him, then.”

“What—don’t be ridiculous, Ominis. Have you even been listening to what I’ve been saying? I don’t understand why you’d say something so preposterous.”

A moment of silence passes as they continue their stride together. Sebastian eyes his friend to see his expression has fallen, letting out a sigh, “I miss him, too.”

Potions class just wasn’t the same without MC at his side, whispering about what they presumed Garreth might concoct next. How the two would place stupid bets that if the result lined up with what they’d each written on a spare bit of parchment, the one who guessed correctly may try to sabotage the other’s potion with an ingredient of their choice. Now Sebastian has been sabotaging his own potion perfectly fine on his own. At least it still wasn’t as bad as Ominis’, who’s gave off a murky mud green colour instead of the luminous description it was listed to have.

But Sebastian was never going to admit MC’s absence dampened his spirits—least of all to himself. He was quite satisfied with joining the station beside Poppy, the excitable Hufflepuff who particularly perked up when the subject of magical creatures came around.

In truth, he’s been going in and out of their mostly one-sided conversation for the majority of class. Not that he didn’t like Poppy, but more so from the fact that there was only so much he could hear on the topic of puffskiens. He’d never found them very interesting in the first place.

Though, her rambling provided distraction enough from his mind wandering back to what has been plaguing him for almost a full month now. “...mind you, Highwing doesn’t take to just anyone. If I were to compare him to other Hippogriffs I’d say he’s quite stubborn, but I had no doubts that MC would win him over! They got along right away. I’d even reckon Highwing will give him a ride if he’d wanted.”

Sebastian’s attention snaps to Poppy as she crushes some dittany leaves into her cauldron, her face set in a content manner from recalling the story. “Sorry, Poppy, did you say you were with MC?”

She nods enthusiastically, making her eyes squint, “and Highwing!”

“When was this?”

“How was he? Is he alright?” Even Ominis piped in, focusing in on their conversation.

She’s a little taken aback, possibly from the sudden attention on her and the berating of questions. “I think so? He said he couldn’t stay for long, but I’d been wanting to show him for ages.”

“Poppy, when was this?” Sebastian repeats a little more forcefully.

Poppy tilts her head in thought, “hmm… I believe it was just this past weekend. Friday, yes.”

Something heavy weighs in the pit of Sebastian’s stomach, wrapped with a growing irritation that he can’t help but extend towards Poppy, too. He tightens his jaw. Since when were the two of them so close? Why didn’t Sebastian know this? Why had he bothered to see her instead of him–or Ominis?

“Should I be worried?” Poppy looks between the two of them with a crease between her brow.

Ominis has returned back to his potion, apparently perfectly contented with learning that MC is still alive and well, albeit without checking in with the two of them. That same suppressed smile from before Beasts class in back in place, however, and he avoids Sebastian when he answers Poppy. “No, you don’t have to be worried. Our dear friend Sebastian here simply doesn’t know what to do with himself in his absence. Like a lost puppy, really.”

“I am not!” he barks out, fuming as he glares at Poppy and Ominis alike. They both snicker behind their hands. The gall of them both, Sebastian focuses back on the potion he’s brewing with the determination to ignore them. Though, he feels heat rise up his neck and pointedly glowers inside his potions book to see what ingredient needs to be added next, trying hard to put his mind on the task at hand.

One thing is for certain, he will not be sitting with Poppy again. And as he hears continued whispers coming from their direction, Sebastian thinks to yell at them some more. Only, he doesn’t get the chance when a loud boom sounds from behind him, the force of the blast ruffling his hair and robes.

He, alongside the rest of the class, peers over his shoulder to see Garreth has failed in yet another endeavor to brew one of his own original concoctions, exploding in his face and disintegrating everything in the general vicinity of his work station. Including his eyebrows. Again.

The angry voice of Professor Sharp follows throughout the dungeon, “Weasley!”

Monday brought forth Charms class once more, and torrential rain with it. Any promise of getting a practical lesson outside on the school grounds was quickly squandered. Sebastian also gave up on the anticipation of having MC show up. Well, mostly. He pretends he wasn’t aware of the tiny bit of hope that remains deep rooted in his chest and told him it might still be a possibility.

So he couldn’t be blamed for almost falling out of his chair that he’d been leisurely leaning back in when MC walks into the classroom. A small gasp escapes him as he lets all four chair legs meet with the ground, half expecting his mind desperate enough to have created some sort of illusion of him. “Ominis, Ominis,” he hisses while tugging at his friend's sleeve. “He showed up!”

This piqued Ominis’ interest, straightening up in his seat, “He did? How does he look, still in one piece?”

Sebastian peers over Ominis’ shoulder while still attempting to remain inconspicuous. His gaze follows MC as he walks up to Professor Ronan, a cloak that’s drenched through wrapped around his frame. “Yeah he’s intact. He looks tired, though.” It was true, causing Sebastian to frown. The dark circles under MC’s eyes are noticeably distinguishable even from where he and Ominis sit.

A twinge of guilt, the first he’s felt since their argument in the Undercroft, twists inside Sebastian. Perhaps he was being a bit too harsh. Seeing MC now almost dissipates any of the animosity he had felt after their argument in the Undercroft, tempted to push everything aside and welcome him over to the seat in between himself and Ominis where he usually settles into.

“Is he coming over?” Ominis sounds as hopeful as Sebastian secretly feels.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Sebastian cranes his neck to see MC saying something to the Professor that’s too quiet to pick up amidst the rowdy atmosphere of the classroom. Part of Sebastian wants to turn around at his classmates and yell at them to shut up, but he can’t tear his eyes away as he watches MC proceed to hand Professor Ronan a slip of paper.

Then, with an increasing sense of disappointment, MC turns around to head back out of the class. But not before he’s interrupted by Garreth calling out to him, “Hey, MC, you have to try my latest mixture! It was a great success in potions class.”

MC screws up his face as he looks over at Garreth, “no thanks. And I seriously doubt that.” Garreth only shrugs while MC acknowledges Poppy and Natty, who sit a ways down from where Garreth had stood up. He sends them a wave and a smile as he proceeds to leave.

He disappears for only a fraction of a second before popping his head back in, this time looking towards where Sebastian sits, his heart seeming to skip a beat.

“Oh, and hello, Ominis!”

“Okay, that’s it. This isn’t on.”

Sebastian gets up from where he and Omins have been lounging on the grass in the main area of the Hogwarts grounds. The rain that plagued most of their week was gone, replaced by a bright sun that brought most of the students out to enjoy it.

“I’m going to find and confront him about all this.” He stands above Ominis with his arms crossed, blotting out the sun.

“Do you mean it this time? Or will you be changing your mind again.” A disgruntled Ominis attempts to maneuver his way back into the direct sunlight he’d been bathing in a moment prior, and out of Sebastian’s shadow.

He scoffs, “Yes, I mean it, he just hasn’t been easy to get a hold of, you know.”

Ominis hums, already relaxing on a new patch of grass with his hands behind his head and his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He dons a pleasant smile, his eyes closed, “Then I bid you good luck. Goodbye.”

“And we know he’s been the one avoiding me, now. Tactfully shown by wherever that was in Charms class.” Recalling the event of when MC had greeted practically everyone but Sebastian, leaving him with his mouth hung open in awe and quite dumbfounded before starting their lesson.

“Right, it’s almost like how I’d previously mentioned he might be upset with you over your last discussion. What was it about, anyhow? You still haven’t told me.” Ominis rests up on his elbows.

“Well, it was nothing, really.” Sebastian begins to fumble with the hem of his cloak under Ominis’ stern gaze. “Okay, it wasn’t nothing but—he said he was speaking with a goblin, Ominis! A goblin!”

“Well, that's certainly better than fighting one, isn’t it?”

“You know their lot aren’t to be trusted, after everything with how they cursed my sister!”

Ominis frowns, “And then what happened?”

“I, uh,” Sebastian brings up a hand to rub at the back of his neck, angling himself slightly away, “proceeded to yell at him. Quite a bit…”

Ominis blinks, then lies back down. “I would have avoided you, too.”

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian sets off across the grounds and inside the castle. Although, once he’s inside he realizes he’s not sure where to start looking. He supposes he could check by MC’s common room. Though, he’d have no way of knowing if MC was actually around. Sebastian doubts this, anyway, seeing as MC was likely too preoccupied to spend more time than a night’s rest inside their own common room.

It’s just then that Sebastian decides he might ask Natty if she’s seen MC around. Or perhaps Amit, who’s been known to spend time with him after their late night Astronomy classes. He’s sure one of their shared classmates has seen MC around. He might even ask Poppy if he happened to bump into her.

It’s with this new goal in mind that brings Sebastian through the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower where he winds his way through the elaborately designed marble staircases and hallways. It’s mostly deserted, as what seems like a majority of Hogwarts was taking advantage of the wonderful weather they were experiencing.

The set of enchanted violins serenade him as he walks past with a quick stride, trying to spot someone to question regarding MC’s whereabouts. It’s not until he turns the corner at the end of one of the larger staircases that something draws his attention. A flicker of a robe at the end of the hallway.

If it were any old hallway, Sebastian wouldn’t have taken any notice. Wouldn’t have given it another thought, really. But at the end of this particular hallway stood the entrance to the Undercroft. And he only knew of three people who were aware of its secretive location: Ominis, himself, and MC.

So glance again, Sebastian did, as he knew full well who had now skirted around the corner and flattened themselves against the wall in hopes of not drawing any attention.

A smirk twists the side of his mouth when he rushes forward, confronting and further cornering MC there “Hey, you’re not allowed in there. It’s off limits to anyone who doesn’t acknowledge my presence.”

Face set in shock, MC takes a moment before responding, their expression returning to one that’s unreadable again, “I wasn’t going in.”

“Then what were you doing?”

“Looking for you.”

“Oh.” Whatever Sebastian was expecting in response, it certainly wasn’t that, “you were?”

It’s MC’s turn for a sly smile to brace his features now, “Mhm.”

Sebastian takes a step back, allowing MC some breathing room. “Why have you been ignoring me? And don’t say it’s because you’ve been busy.”

“I have been busy.”

“Not too busy to hang out with Poppy, though.” Sebastian retorts.

“Poppy didn’t call me ignorant and stomp out on our conversation. Or proceed to disappear for the rest of the weekend.” Smile turning innocent, MC states this in a matter-of-fact way.

“Ah.” He’s strikingly aware of the remorse that floods him now. “Yes, perhaps I was slightly brash in my reaction… maybe a bit uncalled for…” MC nods along enthusiastically, attentive to Sebastain’s poor attempt at self redemption. He lets his eyes drop, and notices MC holding both hands behind his back suspiciously. “What’ve you got there…?”

“Nothing.” MC angles his hold on something away from Sebastian’s gaze, but not before he’d caught a glimpse of a small box adorning red and white stripes.

A grin is quick to return to Sebastian’s face at the sneaking suspicion of what he thinks it might be, making a swipe for it that MC is swift to duck away from. “Did you–? Are those for me?”

“No.”

Sebastian eventually finds out he was right–after scraping with MC–to see a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, “Oho, missed me, did you?”

“Not as much as you missed me, apparently.”

“And how would you know that?” The two of them are in close proximity after having fought over the box that MC now holds in front of him, almost forgotten at this point.

“Ominis told me.”

“Om—when did you speak with Ominis?!” Sebastian straightens up, frowning.

“Only the other day. We had afternoon tea together, he did ask you to come,” MC says casually.

“That little–obviously I didn’t know you’d be there!”

MC shrugs, then relents to giving Sebastian the box of jellybeans, holding them out to him.

Sebastian accepts them, hesitating slightly. “I’m sorry, by the way. Properly. I didn’t mean what I said before, you’re not ignorant.”

“No,” MC agrees with a slight smile, a mischievous glint in their eyes, “though, you certainly are.”

Sebastian thinks he rather deserves that. Perhaps. “Come on then, let’s crack this open. Maybe we can trick Ominis into eating a mouldy cheese one.”

“Merlin, finally.” Turns out they didn’t have to look too far for their friend, both of them jumping when Ominis speaks up from a ways behind them. “I was afraid I’d have to entertain Sebastatian for the rest of my days.”

Sebastian turns to face Ominis as he comes sauntering down the hall toward them, feeling slightly put out, “...how much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” Ominous replies in an aloof manner, turning his nose up at Sebastian. “I think I’ll take a leaf out of MC’s book and be the next one to avoid you for a while.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x male mc #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow x m!MC #kinda want to take requests so if anyone got this far and wants more/a story with their MC lmk this was fun!#and it would be nice to write about an actual MC not a placeholder

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theongp · 2 years ago

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Just a little couple kissing practice sketch

My MC with Sebastian 💚💙

I'm so desperated for more fanart of male MC/Sebastian Sallow so I drew it myself even tho I'm suck at drawing 😞

Bonus: My MC

Look at him, such a babygirl. Never before I've ever thought that I would simp my own MC in games *sob*

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x male mc #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanart #i need more sebastian with male mc fanarts guys #i'm desperate

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theladyofshalott1989 · 8 months ago

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As a little treat to myself for the first anniversary of my Sebastian Sallow x m!mc series (Like Moths to a Flame [ Wattpad link ] [ AO3 link ]), I commissioned the absolutely spectacular @rhewart for a scene of Sebastian and Damien from chapter 34 ("Happiness, Its Gates Guarded by Dragons") of the sequel, Burning Bright, and boy, did she deliver (and then some)! My jaw is still on the floor. Happy one year, Sebastian and Damien <333 It's been such a joy writing you two.

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baldriantee · 3 months ago

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hehe

#i've looked at this for five hours now help #nothing will help #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x christian eisen #sebristian #sebastian sallow x m!mc #sebastian sallow x male mc #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian sallow #christian eisen #hogwarts legacy mc #wizarding world

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luxemalfoy · 5 months ago

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(Sebastian sallow) Hello,umm😳 I see you the new 5th year. My name is Sebastian Sallow

(Luxe malfoy) Indeed I am😳. I am Luxe malfoy

(Luxe thinking) God his eyes his hair the way he talks the thousand of freckles like stars.💖

(Sebastian thinking) I want to do things with him that I only do with ominis.😏

(ominis) Sebastian HELLO Sebastian.

(Leander) I think the 5th year is deaf.

(Sebastian & luxe thinking) I love him❤️

(Ominis) 🗣SEBASTIAN 🔥

(Sebastian) I'm sorry about that. What were you saying ominis.

(Luxe) class is about to start. I'll see you in there.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow headcanon #sebastian sallow screenshots #sebastian sallow gay #sebastian sallow x male mc #sebastian sallow x male reader #ominis gaunt hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominous gaunt #ominis gaunt screenshots #ominis gaunt #ominis #leander prewett #hogwarts legacy leander #hogwarts legacy headcanons

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nixter97 · 1 year ago

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Written a fanfic series for Hogwarts Legacy. So far, two parts are up, and the third (and final) installment will be out later this year. Been a lot of fun writing these, and I am so excited for what is to come in Part 3~!

💚🦅🐍💙 — 💚💀💙 — 💚🕰️💙

Felix Fletcher is a normal boy who lived in Victorian London, until it was discovered he had magic at the age of fifteen. During his time at Hogwarts, Felix met fellow classmate Sebastian Sallow, and immediately fancied him. After the unfortunate events of their fifth-year, the two boys had an estranged relationship. Skip forward to their seventh-year, and things take a dark turn, leading to them rekindling their friendship. Both Felix and Sebastian have demons from their past, but together, they strive to overcome them.

NOTE: The third and final part of the series is finally here! 💚🕰️💙

#nixter97 #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #sebastian sallow #felix fletcher #sebastian sallow x felix fletcher #sebasrian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x male mc #harry potter #Spotify #in the shadows #harry potter hogwarts game #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #in the shadows felix fletcher #in the shadows fanfic #ao3fic #read on ao3 #ao3

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the-kcm-muggleborn · 5 months ago

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Kind For You

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy

O/C: Sebastian Sallow x Edwart Thompson x Ominis Gaunt ✨️platonic✨️ (My OC)

Warnings: Light swearing.

Word count: 1k>

Chapter 4

Part 10

“I-... Is that - Ominis?” Sebastian and Edwart stood in front of clearly distraught Ominis. Ed felt the kind of shame he hadn't felt in a long time. “Ominis I-” He spoke but immediately Sebastian interrupted him.

“Ominis! The sounds we kept hearing. It was you.”

“You gave me no choice. I had to follow you.” He shook his head. “Sebastian, please. Leave the relic alone. We can find another way to help Anne.”

Sebastian was relentless. “I'm sorry, Ominis, but I'm taking it.”

“No, you're not. If you won't put it back, then I will.” Ominis took a firm stance.

Edwart looked at both of his friends who seemed so hostile towards each other, that a stranger could say they were about to duel. “Hold on, both of you.” Edwart stood between them both trying to defuse the situation. “Sebastian, please, take a step back.”

“But-” Sebastian tried arguing but Edwart insisted. “Please, don't make this worse.”

“Fine,” he mumbled “but Ominis knows - I won't step back from a fight.”

Edwart took a deep breath to try to calm down.

“Can't believe this,” Ominis muttered.

“How much did you hear?” Edwart spoke delicately.

“Everything. I was glad to hear you tell Sebastian to leave the relic.” Ominis smiled but it quickly disappeared as he started nervously pacing.

“Ominis I- I…” Edwart wanted to apologise but he could not find the right words.

“Don't worry about it. Right now we need to stand together, and convince Sebastian this is wrong.” Ominis was nervous yet firm and strict. As Sebastian deserved.

“And if nothing will change his mind?” Edwart was unsure too.

“Something has to. I need your help.” Ominis stated.

He didn't want to help Sebastian but he had to. Anne needed their help and Sebastian really did believe this relic could be the key. Edwart ran his hands over his face and took a shaky breath. “Sebastian's… right. We need that relic.”

“What?” Ominis stopped dead in his tracks. “Edwart, you… I'm sorry, my mind is made up.”

“Are you willing to sacrifice your friendship over this?” Edwart asked with a raised brow.

“I might be. How could I choose to stand by and watch him do this?” Ominis started pacing again.

Edwart had an idea. A bad one but he was getting desperate. “What if the choice wasn't yours? You wouldn't be to blame for what happens.”

“Edwart! What in the world are you suggesting? Imperio?” Ominis raised his voice.

Edwart took a step back and swallowed hard. “No…Now that you say it out loud, it sounds absurd… But, luckily I have another idea. We allow Sebastian to leave with the relic under one condition: after this, no more.”

“We cannot do that! I feel that's what we agreed to in the scriptorium. I'm being taken for a fool.” Ominis was fuming but Edwart kept his ground. “You're not, Ominis. This may be the only way to keep your friendship intact. Let's… trust him to know what's best.”

Ominis finally stopped pacing. Edwart could see all the emotions painted on his friend’s face. He was already regretting his choices but it was no use. He stood with Sebastian… whatever it took.

“Fine.” Ominis finally spoke.“If I trust him on this… I'm trusting you, too. The Dark Arts seem harmless until it's too late. Go, then. Leave with the relic. I'll not say a word more.”

“You're… not coming back with us?” Ed asked with worry.

“No, I need a moment alone… I'll be fine.” Ominis frowned as he stepped to the side.

Edwart reluctantly turned around to face Sebastian as he heard Ominis’s voice one last time. “I hope I don't regret this…”

The Hufflepuff took a deep shaky breath and took a few steps to speak to finally get out of this place. “Sebastian… we're ready.”

“What is it? I haven't changed my mind.” Sebastian frowned.

“But Ominis has. Let's… just go.” Edwart took one last look at his friend he had to argue with.

“What? Ominis?” Sebastian was baffled.

“I'll explain on the way. Come on!”

Both boys kept walking in silence. Edwart was fighting his tears. He had enough of standing tall between his two friends. He hated how anxious he made Ominis feel but even worse… Ed hated going against Sebastian when he had such pure intentions…

“Well? What happened back there?” Sebastian’s voice brought Edwart back from his guilt-ridden mind.

“Ominis and I found a compromise.” He answered flatly.

Sebastian scoffed loudly. “Ominis simply needs a moment with you and he'll change his mind. Is that it?”

“I told him we ought to give you this chance that the relic… is too important to ignore,” Edwart said as they saw the exit to the catacomb.

“There has to be more to it than that.” Sebastian stopped Edwart by harshly grabbing his forearm. “Tell me!” Edwart flinched at that aggressive touch but Sebastian couldn't care less. He looked deep inside Ed’s eyes as if to read if his friend was telling the truth.

“Let me go...” he whispered but his friend's grasp only tightened. "We agreed on what was needed, Sebastian… You have my word.” Edwart finally wrenched himself out of Sebastian’s grasp. He was shaken, he hated being touched in general but this was so much different. Sebastian was different…

Luckily Sebastian kept quiet until both boys left the catacomb. “I never wanted to keep all this from Ominis...”

“Well you did… doesn't matter now, Let’s go to Feldcroft.” Ed kept his head low.

Sebastian ignored that sassy comment and kept on. “As we were leaving… Ominis wouldn't even acknowledge me that's not like him.”

Edwart felt the absolute pain surrounding this whole situation. “He was… troubled, Sebastian. Even though we agreed to it all, it's been a lot to take in.”

“I thought he understood. He knew we couldn't give up. All of this is too important. For Anne.” Sebastian kept speaking with a pained voice.

“I’m aware,” Ed said quietly.

“When we get to Feldcroft, I'd rather Anne not know what had to be done to get this relic. She thinks like Ominis. It'd only upset her.”

“Yes, I unde- What’s that smoke? See it?” Edwart furrowed his brows and pointed at 3 dark clouds of smoke coming from Feldcroft.

“Oh, no… This isn't good.” Sebastian signed. “Feldcroft's in trouble… They're under attack!”

“Shit! Let’s go then!” Edaart exclaimed as both boys started running to the rescue.

In the centre, many villagers were fighting against goblins along with Anne and Solomon.

“Anne, what are you doing out here? Confringo!” Sebastian exclaimed with worry.

“Helping. Do the same, please! Sebastian behind you!” Anne spoke loudly back.

Everybody was fighting well enough taking on different goblins. And managing to pull through. Until Solomon got attacked by five goblins at the same time. Edwart tried to help but he tripped, hurting his hand as a Goblin shot a strong Depulso on him. The true chaos began when Anne got one of her painful attacks as she fell to the ground a goblin started to run towards her with a murderous glance and a raised sword until… “IMPERIO!” Sebastian screamed. As the Goblin’s eyes turned green from the Unforgivable Curse. The goblins stopped and offed himself. Sebastian came to Anne and silently offered her a hand.

“Boy, what have you done?” Solomon's angry voice scolded Sebastian.

“Saved my sister! I-” Sebastian argued as Solomon helped Anne up.

“With an Unforgivable Curse - from that damned book no doubt! Your father would be ashamed! You've gone too far, Sebastian. Stay away from her. From all of us.” Solomon shot his nephew a look that could kill but at the same time… a disappointed one.

Edwart has been observing this whole scene from afar. He painfully got to his feet and came over to speak to Sebastian about what he's done.”

“Well? What did my uncle expect me to do?” He exclaimed frustrated. “The Imperius Curse saved Anne's life. That goblin was going to kill her.”

“I-... don't know Sebastian. I think it's about the spell not that you saved Anne.” Edwart felt like this day could not get worse.

“He cannot banish me from my own home. From my sister…” Sebastian frowned.

“It might be best to let him calm down a while… May I speak to him?” Edwart asked carefully.

“You… may be right. Very well. Probably best if I get away from here for a while… I'll head back to Hogwarts.” Sebastian’s anger has subsided revealing his true emotions… extreme distress.

Edwart looked at Sebastian last time and headed towards furious Solomon. He really wanted to ease him… even a bit.

“Pardon me Mr. Sallow?” Edwart tired carefully.

“What Sebastian did was inexcusable! You cannot possibly be about to defend him.”

“Sebastian and I have encountered Ranrok's Loyalists before. That goblin would've killed Anne.”

“This family does not resort to using Dark Magic, even against our enemies. What Sebastian did cannot be undone.”

“I'm aware but-” Edwart tried to get a word in but Mr. Sallow did not let him get a word in.

“That you are defending Sebastian's behaviour at all tells me everything I need to know. You are as guilty as he is.”

“I'm not-” Ed furrowed his brows.

“Sebastian is to come nowhere near Feldcroft. Nowhere near Anne. Unforgivable Curses are so named for a reason.”

“Sir-!” Edwart tried one last time but to no avail.

“Listen here, boy!” Solomon threatened Edwart. “If I hear that either of you continues down this path… if either of you uses Dark Magic, I will notify the Headmaster immediately!” Mr. Sallow stomped away angrily and shut the door to his home behind him.

Edwart took a deep breath and returned to hogwarts longing or a rest.

MASTERLIST

-------------- Author's notes:--------------

Thank you so much for reading. Part 10! Wow! There's still many parts to go around. Well we are done with "In the Shadow of Time." Happy about it, hated the way Sebby was acting in this mission. Poor Eddy can't catch a break. Also I'm slowly running out of quality GIFS. Thank you so much for reading.

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