#beater!sebastian

[morelikeravenbore]

Feigning Indifference

"— And on the edge of it all, standing alone by the stands, there's you: arms crossed, little pout on your cute face, feigning indifference."

 (I promised Quidditch!smut for the girlies a literal year ago, oop. 🐢🐢🐢 Anyhoo...)

Rated: Explicit. MDNI. NSFW. 🔞

Content warnings: f!reader, no mention of house or appearance, size difference kink, semi-public sex, voyeurism/exhibitionist fantasies, possessive!Sebastian, Beater!Sebastian, feral!Sebastian, excessive use of the word fuck, p in v, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1.8k

[MASTERLIST] [WATTPAD]

Sebastian descends onto the Quidditch pitch, wind-swept, sweat-soaked — victorious.

Like a stone in quicksand, he's swallowed up by the cheering throng of admirers before he's even fully off his broom; Slytherin's mostly, their faces painted emerald, scarves transfigured into woolly snakes around their necks — they crowd around him, beside themselves with the thrill of Sebastian's triumph, back-slapping, hand-shaking, cheek-kissing. Sebastian is glad to be wearing his protective gear against the most enthusiastic among them — not that he's weak without his shoulder pads and arm guards, but some thump him so hard with their congratulations that he wonders if they're Gryffindor’s in disguise trying to put him out of action before the next match.

Once he's past the worst of it, he shirks off his Beater's gear: pads, guards, helmet (even cup, which he unashamedly yanks right out of his pants) hit the ground in quick succession, discarded for the teams’ first-year assistant to collect in his wake (provided his rabid fan club doesn't get to them first.)

Thanks to his seventh-year growth spurt, Sebastian is hardly any smaller without his bulky gear on — a fact he uses to his full advantage to shoulder through the crowd. It takes him several minutes to wind his way through; supporters and haters in equal measure jostle for his attention, girls squeal and find excuses to touch him, Imelda criticises his technique as he passes (even though he just won her the bloody match), and somebody lets off a series of explosions overhead that shower the crowd with green and silver sparks. — And on the edge of it all, standing alone by the stands, there's you: arms crossed, little pout on your cute face, feigning indifference. 

He wants to kiss the frown right off your face. 

‘There you are.’ He grins down at you. You glare up at him.

‘Seven different girls touched your shoulders just now,’ you grumble, scanning your narrowed eyes over the crowd. ‘Two more touched your chest, and that last one tried to climb you.’

Sebastian's grin widens, delighting in your jealousy. ‘Did they?’ He affects a look of innocence. ‘I didn't notice.’

‘Liar.’ You shoot him a deeply contemptuous look. ‘Maybe I should take up Quidditch, see how you like seeing your girlfriend being groped after every match.’

His amusement drops faster than a fumbled Quaffle. Usually, he finds your little jealous streak endearing — after pining after you for two long years, convinced his feelings were one-sided, your possessiveness makes him embarrassingly gooey-eyed and lovesick. But today he's too jacked up on adrenaline to let that comment slide: nobody touches you but him. Not even in your imagination. 

With no more effort than he expends on waving his Beater's bat around (less, even), he lifts you with one arm, bringing your face level with his. 

‘I wouldn't let you play Quidditch,’ he says lowly, his voice deep with authority.

Authority which you completely ignore, like always.

Incensed, you scoff and wiggle and squirm for freedom (‘Ugh, put me down, you brute! — You can't tell me what to do! — If I want to play Quidditch, you can't stop me!’) but Sebastian only waits, watching your little tantrum with a mix of resigned patience and wry amusement. 

‘You're not the boss of me!’ you wail. You’re tiny in his grip, slender limbed and delicate, but you’re agile enough to break free if he doesn’t handle you right. His arm tightens around you, pinning you so firmly against his chest that you squeak. 

‘Yes,’ he growls in your face, ‘I am.’

Despite all the height and the strength he’s gained since you met in fifth year (or the physique if all the giggles and whispers about his shoulders are to be believed), Sebastian is, generally speaking, an unapologetic softie when it comes to you: the most precious thing he's ever beheld, there's not a girl alive more loved than you. But fresh off the field, bolstered by the dizzying rush of glory and adrenaline, all his usual gentleness eludes him. — Suddenly, he wants to do more than kiss the frown off your face. 

A hot lick of desire alights in his belly, as familiar as it is impossible to ignore. Without another word, he hoists you higher and carries you off beneath the stands; game forgotten, celebrations be damned, he only has eyes for you, little doll, little bunny caught in his hungry gaze, so small and soft and devourable. 

You yelp when your back meets the wall, but hidden now deep in shadows, Sebastian only grins, wolfish. Grateful he'd thought to discard his cup, he pins you there with his hips, making sure you feel every sudden aching inch of him between your legs. 

You're his now. You both know it. 

‘How can you be jealous when you're the only one who does this to me?’ He leans in close enough to spill hot words right into your pretty, parted mouth. ‘I should fuck you standing. Right here,’ — he punctuates with a sharp thrust that makes you gasp, — ‘right now.’

Your eyes go wide, but whether you're scandalised by his audacity or desperate for him to keep whispering filth, Sebastian doesn't particularly care.

He wants to fuck the shock right off your face. 

‘R-right here?’ The wobble in your voice makes him twitch. He grinds into you again, sloooowly this time, rolling the entire length of himself against you while he watches you shift from stubborn brat to good fucking girl; no matter how many times he's seen you like this, flushed pink and panting, he's still utterly obsessed with the moment you finally give in. 

Because you always give in. 

‘Why not?’ He begins the careful crumbling of your resolve with the top button of your blouse, then the second button, third, fourth… But by the fifth his patience snaps and he yanks — hard; no need for a vanishing charm, he rips your shirt clean open. Buttons pop off in all directions; he knows you'll scold him for that later, but right now you only have strength enough to whimper. 

‘What if they see?’ You palm his shoulders — but you're pulling, not pushing. 

‘Let them.’ His lips are on the hollow of your collarbone, sucking shivers out of you. ‘Let them watch me fucking ruin you.’

Yanking you away from the wall, he spins you around and envelopes you from behind, one arm curled so tightly around your waist you couldn't wiggle free even if you wanted to. Not that you do want to; that much is clear when his other hand slides beneath your undies. Fingers slick, he fucking moans his way down the side of your neck, his tongue laving a hot, wet stripe down to your shoulder. 

‘You think I want to touch any of them like this, huh?’ He bundles your little body against him like a blanket, his arms taut and muscles straining as he works your moans free with his hands and his tongue. You buck obediently against his palm, and when he slides two thick, long fingers inside you, your knees give out. He holds you up, pinned pretty to his chest, your tits heaving in the open air, nipples begging to be painted wet by his hungry mouth. 

Sweat drips from his hair and lands on your face. ‘You think I want to fuck any of them the way I fuck you?’

Through the gaps between the stands, the Quidditch pitch is empty, quickly abandoned for post-match festivities (or commiserations if you're a Gryffindor). He imagines marching you back out there right now fucking you in the middle of it, stripping you bare and pounding you silly while the teams debrief in the changerooms and the Slytherin's celebrate their win in the dungeons. — He'd never do it for real, of course, but the fantasy of claiming you so openly, having you exposed and babbling on his cock for anyone to see makes him dizzy. 

He wants everyone to know you're his. 

The thought makes him fucking — lose — it. 

Hot and thick in his hand, he strokes himself free from his trousers with frantic pumps and a long, drawn-out whimper. If he's teetering on the edge of control, then you don't stand a chance; he hoists your leg up and rubs himself desperately against your underwear, mouthing your neck from behind, palming your tits with his big, calloused hand. Never has he been more grateful for all the grueling training sessions that have granted him the strength to manhandle you onto his cock whenever the mood strikes.

Undies bunched to the side, you arch your back and reach an arm around his shoulder, begging, begging, begging even as he's pushing in, in, into you. The sound he makes when he's fully sheathed is nothing short of feral; he stumbles forward, that hot, tight squeeeeeze of you so good it makes him weak in the knees. 

It's fucking unbearable what you do to him, the way you make him dribble and buck and moan all sorts of dirty things in your little ear — the way you make him lose control. 

‘Look at you,’ he slurs, anchoring you to his body with the full, hot length of his cock. ‘S'fucking good, s’all fucking mine.’

Holding your leg up, he sets a slow, deep rhythm and imagines himself watching you: a last-minute straggler drawn to your hiding place by your sweet moans. He imagines how pretty you'd look all stretched out and stuffed full of himself, tits bouncing, mouth agape with pleasure, too fucked out of your mind to realise how loud you are. He'd touch himself to it — oh fuck yes he would, edging himself to time his climax with yours. And maybe you'd notice him, a pair of dark eyes burning with desire. Maybe you'd like it. Maybe it'd make you cum harder. 

Fuck. Lust roils thick and luscious in his stomach and he makes a mental note to fuck you in front of a mirror next time. 

He's gasping now, slamming into you so hard your foot almost leaves the ground with every thrust.

‘If only —’ he groans, ‘— they could — see you —’ He drops his head to your shoulder and bites. ‘You're the — ngh — only one — oh, fuck —’

Surely you know — surely you understand that it's always been you; that the way you surrender makes him feel strong; that being inside you makes him feel less broken. Surely you know that he uses his body to say the things he can't put into words. 

It's more than sex: he fucking loves you. 

Your peak hits you first: a long, slow, wet release that Sebastian rides out as best he can without falling over. He moans along with you, echoing ecstasy into your ear, holding you up while your body succumbs to the overwhelming love he gives and gives and gives over to you. And when you're done, spent and shivering in his arms, sweet and limp and loved to the extreme, he follows. 

[drowsygoose]

yet another round of sebastian sallow headcanons, this time about quidditch (because, I'll admit, the idea of him and a few other characters playing has grown on me):

Anne and Sebastian were super excited for tryouts their second year, though neither made the team. By third year, Sebastian had become more interested in duelling (and found that he was Really Fucking Good at it) while Anne was quick and really good at shifting her weight on her broom, serving as an alternate Beater and learning from the sixth and seventh year starters

(She was definitely going to be a starter the following year, spent all summer practicing and exchanging letters with Imelda about their respective progress—until Rookwood happened)

Quidditch didn't feel the same without Anne. While he still enjoyed game days, Sebastian didn't try out fourth year and chose instead to throw himself into Crossed Wands (as a second year Lucan Brattleby followed him around and learned he had a knack for organizing duels and, of course, making and managing bets). He did, however, use her broom to visit Feldcroft every weekend

He, like other students, was upset about the lack of quidditch during fifth year; he'd gotten better on the broom though, faster and unknockable and more adept even in terrible weather, thanks to his Feldcroft trips

So by the time sixth year rolls around and quidditch is restored, Imelda practically corners him in the Slytherin common room after the Great Feast

"Not sure what you did over summer, but you've got the build of a Beater, Sallow. Tryouts are next week."

"Imelda, I'm not—"

"Tuesday, 3pm. If you're late, I'll kick your arse."

And they both knew she meant it

So, the following Tuesday at 3pm, Sebastian got his arse on a broom and performed the Beater drills: laps around the pitch while balancing the bat and again with no hands, knocking bludgers out of the way, and giving/taking a few checks without falling off the broom

Imelda wasted no time in granting him a spot on the team and also announcing he was a starter

(I also like to think Anne is back by sixth year and is doing everything she can to feel normal again, so she's on the team and uses all that RAGE from the last two years as Beater fuel. Imagine the way Lucan and Everett Clopton announce those games??? "The Sallow twins strike again!" Like??? My HEART)

If MC plays, especially if they're in another house, game days are particularly interesting lol

[choccy-milky]

modern AU seb and clora's first interaction 📘📗 (and by modern AU i actually mean super trope-filled high school romance set in the 80's/90's LOL)

[sanschips]

Beater!Seb on his broom <33

[slytherizz]

Bludgered - Sebastian Sallow x Female!MC/Reader

Summary: Sebastian never really knew what his friend saw in Isaac Cooper but he never questioned it - he made his friend happy. That is until a Quidditch match goes quickly awry and he realises his feelings for her may go far deeper than simple friendship.

Prompt from @monismateos Quidditch Seb x Slytherin Seeker F!MC. Thank you for your patience with this one lovely!

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, 7th Year, explicit sexual content, smut, mild violence, love confessions, semi-public sex, first time

You can find all the tags on Ao3

Condensation fogging the inside of Sebastian’s goggles made it almost impossible to see his frozen fingers clasped around the handle of his broom; let alone the Quidditch match itself. His hair was slicked down his forehead and he could already feel a splinter working its way under the skin of his palm.

He’d have to ask her to help him squeeze that out later.

Rain lashed in oppressive sheets as Sebastian circled the pitch diligently. He rolled his shoulder as much to keep the blood circling as it was to keep pace with the veering gusts that would knock a smaller man from his broom.

Sebastian hadn’t even wanted to try out for the blasted Quidditch team he grumbled inwardly as he swerved out of the line of the chasers keeping an eye on the skies to ensure their path was free of a hurtling bludger.

He’d only intended to watch and support his friend try out for the Slytherin Seeker position. Reyes had taken one look at him stuffing himself into the narrow stalls beside Ominis and declared he had a ‘beaters build’. Before he could protest she’d manhandled him onto a broom, forced a bat in his hand and next thing he knew he was being dragged out at the crack of dawn every morning in the baltic Scottish winter.

Anne had always been the Quidditch player not him – slight and nimble she’d taken great pleasure in outpacing her brother in front of Madam Kagawa. 

Merlin, he missed the library.

He could be warm and dry watching the game from a respectable distance inside, book in hand. The cold stiffness in his bones seemed to creak in mourning because at that moment they felt like he’d never be dry again.

But he hadn’t wanted to disappoint her.

She’d looked so pleased when Reyes had offered them both a spot on the team. She’d flung her arms around his neck crowing with delight while Sebastian’s stomach had dropped like a stone. But with how her wide eyes had shone at him, small hands squeezing into his biceps, smile so wide and crooked like a crack of lightning; excitedly waiting for him to return her jubilation he hadn’t the heart to tell her that the absolute last thing he wanted was to be on the Quidditch team.

He'd never been particularly good at saying no to her.

So with a coil of despair tightening in Sebastian’s stomach, he muttered a silent goodbye to his books and his bed and returned her smile praying he didn’t look like a man walking to the gallows.

With how often Anne had badgered him to help her practice during the holidays when she was a Chaser; Sebastian consoled himself with the knowledge that he was a fair flyer. Better than a lot of the Gryffindor team evidently with how their Keeper practically wept every time he saw Rayes’ raven hair streaking towards his goalposts and as a Beater he could at least help keep an eye on their troublesome Seeker.

She was scouting high above him, robes burdened and sopping with water – it was a marvel the weight of them hadn’t made her sluggish. In fact, she barely seemed to notice the cold or the rain at all. Just as alert as she was at the beginning of the match. Floating ominously overhead she kept her silent vigil; like a hawk waiting for a rustle of prey in a dense forest. As impressive as it may be, Sebastian’s constitution was not as robust, and he just hoped she would catch the bloody snitch soon so he could pack it in.

“That’s Reyes with another 10 Points to Slytherin – Puddlemere United will have their hands full with that one next year!” Lucan’s crackly amplified voice shouted over the howling wind.

The thumping of feet heavy enough to break the rickety rafters and a roar of approval from the emerald-cloaked stands answered the chorus of groans from the scarlet that surrounded the pitch.

Tapping his bat against his boot in an inaudible clap Sebastian looked smugly up towards the Gryffindor stands as they jeered at Imelda who seemed as unbothered by them as a speck of soot on her cauldron.

“Eyes on the game, hound!” Imelda barked as she streaked past. Sebastian rolled his eyes at the nickname his captain had bestowed upon him which to his dismay had caught on with the rest of their team. 

As he began to turn his attention from the crowd a flash of black stood out against one of the scarlet banners. Obsidian and vibrating with its internal rage Sebastian caught sight of the bludger rocketing through the fog towards their Seekers. All other thoughts evaporated, and he pulled up the handle of his broom jolting up into its path.

He searched wildly through the dark skies for anything to redirect the screeching little devil away from her. His eyes landed on a scarlet figure with a bat in hand - Sebastian found his target. With all the strength his frozen joints would allow, Sebastian raised his arm and smacked the bludger with a resounding crack from his bat, sending it hurtling towards Isaac Cooper.

He’d apologise to his friend later if he put her boyfriend in the hospital wing.

A lopsided smile tugged at his lips. Sebastian leaned back slightly on his broom. Feeling rather pleased with himself he turned to grin at her hoping his quick reactions would break her concentration momentarily and earn him a flash of a smile no matter how fleeting; it was one of his few moments of pleasure in this infernal game �� but she was gone.

“The Seekers have spotted the snitch!” Lucan shouted, “It’s Slytherin in the lead – come on Ogspire, knock her off her broom if you have to!”

“Lucan!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

Sure, enough like an arrow released from its quiver she was streaking towards the ground. Cutting through the rain, neck and neck with the bludger hand outstretched as she hurtled towards a flash of gold behind Cooper's left ear.

Nelly, the Gryffindor seeker had also spotted it from below. If she didn’t have such a sizable lead, Sebastian was sure there would be a head-on collision, a mess of broken bones and blood splattered across emerald and scarlet. 

Sebastian’s head whipped around to the only other person not intently watching the seekers – Cooper. He’d seen or heard the bludger Sebastian had sent his way a split second before it was too late…for him.

Sebastian felt like he was watching in slow motion. Raindrops hovered in midair like glittering jewels, her emerald robes flapping in the wind like wings, bludger far too close to her head and Cooper poised to strike. A hunter with his gun ready to shoot her from the sky.

Cooper swivelled quickly on his Nimbus, strong arm reaching up above his head as he swung. Wood connected with iron as he followed through redirecting the angry bludger hurtling towards her.

Sebastian screamed her name.

So loud it clawed at his throat. A desperate plea for her to get out of the way, forget the bloody game - but his voice was silenced, stolen by the storm.

If it wasn’t for the clap of thunder and the hammering of rain, Sebastian knew he would have heard the sickening crunch as the bludger connected with bone.

Even if her hands had been tightly clutching her broom, she wouldn’t have been able to grip it after her head was bludgeoned to the side. Every muscle and tendon which had been coiled tight as she surged for victory slackened.

She wobbled and slid silently sideways off her broom.

***

Somewhere overhead even over the deep rumble of thunder, Sebastian could hear Imelda screeching out commands to their team, signalling desperately to Kogawa on the ground below. But Sebastian could barely register the words over the blood roaring in his ears.

Pressing hard on the handle of his broom Sebastian tore towards the ground, rain buffeting his face a harsh sting on freckled cheeks. His vision had tunnelled as he narrowed in on the spot she was falling. He could catch her. Stop her from hitting the ground, if only he could push himself faster. Harder.

She was falling like a star crashing to earth that never should have been stolen from the sky.

Bile was in Sebastian’s throat, harsh and sour. Twenty feet from the sodden earth. Faster. His stomach lurched. Ten feet. Just a little further. A futile hand outstretched.

Just as he was certain she was going to hit the ground limp limbs sprawled and broken in the grass like a rag doll she was suddenly buoyant – airborne once more.

Professor Ronan had his wand outstretched from the stands slowing her descent to Professor Weasley who had already been waiting on the ground. Her mouth pinched in a thin line as she surveyed the sickly parlour of the witch's face and the blood now matting her hair.

Sebastian was the first player to touchdown. Throwing his broom away, abandoning it like he would anything else as long as he could get to her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the other players circling down to earth but he was consumed. Soley with thoughts of her.

Professor Weasley flicked her wand, muttering a barrier charm shielding her from the unforgiving elements. Sebastian was hot on her heels to follow when Kagawa stepped in front of him putting a firm hand on his shoulder in warning to not interfere.

“She will be fine, Sallow!” said Kagawa sternly. 

“You must be joking. She’s clearly not fine! I can help. Just let me go with her and-”

“Professor Weasley and I will accompany her to the hospital wing immediately. You will only get in the way. You can see her for yourself. Later. Be sure to relay that to the rest of the team,” she said with conviction but it did not ease the twisting in Sebastian’s stomach. Kagawa nodded tersely and strode briskly towards the castle. 

Sebastian balled up his fists, jutting out his jaw as he took in a heavy breath through his nose. 

He wasn’t cold any longer. Sebastian was burning. Burning from the inside out; with a white-hot rage…and fear. Letting it scorch at the shame he felt that he had let this happen, it had been his fault, he had not been enough to take care of her as he’d promised himself. 

Mud splattered as he turned on his heels stomping towards Cooper. Channelling the last of his fraying self-control into not reaching for his wand and hexing him on the spot into his feet. Cooper’s face was pale, eyebrow knitted and mouth curling down with worry but it did little to quell Sebastian’s fury. 

What right did Cooper have to be worried? 

Cooper’s eyes found Sebastian, his grimace contorted into a glare. Narrowing his eyes, a sneer wrinkling his nose and the twitch in his jaw that seemed to be reserved especially for Sebastian. A face so unpleasant, that he had never been able to put his finger on why everyone in this school regarded him as so handsome. Being half-decent on a broom was hardly a reason to fawn after anyone. 

Why someone as brilliant as her, with everything she had achieved, would fawn after him too had remained a mystery.

Sebastian never really knew what she saw in him, but he never questioned it - Cooper made his friend happy. Thought he’d made her happy. So the two young men largely ignored each other despite their significance to her unless an interaction was absolutely necessary. 

But this betrayal was not something Sebastian could ignore. 

“You could have killed her,” Sebastian shouted with such venom that not even a howl of wind could soften his tone. Sebastian shoved an accusatory finger into the other man's chest. Which was promptly smacked away in disgust.

“You heard Kogawa. She’ll be fine!” 

Cooper pushed back his ash blonde hair sodden and hanging over his eyes. Averting his gaze to the direction Professor Weasley had whisked her out of the stands and towards the hospital wing. Sebastian clenched his teeth, his jaw twitching at his blatant disregard.

“What the hell were you playing at? Was killing your girlfriend really less important than losing a bloody game or has too many bludgers to the head rendered you a feckless moron?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you hit a bludger at me. It’s part of the game, Sallow. She knew what she signed up for.”

“That’s bollocks and you know it.”

“Bludgers are an occupational hazard.”

“Couldn’t stand the fact she’s a better player than you - Is that it? Gryffindor chivalry my arse!”

“Unlike you, I'm not that insecure," Cooper blustered "I would have done the same to anyone else.”

“But she’s not just anyone else,” Sebastian shouted incredulously. Anger was pooling in his gut, ripping through him at the thought of Cooper or anyone daring to think so little of her. “She’s your girlfriend!”

Cooper scoffed and his eyes raked down Sebastian. Sizing him up for all he was worth. The two men stepped towards each other. 

Never one to back down, Sebastian squared his shoulders to the challenge. Cooper wasn’t much taller than Sebastian and certainly not as broad but he used every last inch to stare down his nose at him with a mocking sneer.

“Exactly. She’s my girlfriend. Not yours.” 

“I know that-”

“Do you?” he chortled. “Some of us were starting to think you were as thick as you are pathetic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sebastian spoke through gritted teeth, acutely aware of the heat rising in his face staining his ears pink. 

“It’s fucking embarrassing,” Cooper continued. “The way you carry on after her. Dragging her to the library every night, sending her owls - You don’t even like Quidditch! But you’re at her beck and call like a love-sick cruppy-”

“I’m her friend.”

“Her friend,” Cooper scoffed. “Give it a rest, Sallow. You think you have some sort of claim over her just because you’ve been following her around since fifth-year but never had the nerve to do anything about it.”

“I don’t have a claim on her-” he spluttered. His cheeks redden further and not just from the biting chill. 

“No you don’t, because she’s mine-”

Crack.

Sebastian’s fist connected with Cooper’s jaw before he’d even realised he’d swung for the arsehole. Perhaps not as hard as a bludger but the cut it wrought would sting with far more malice than enchanted iron. Taken off guard expecting a wand drawn between his eyes long before a brawl, Cooper was sprawled out at Sebastian’s feet in the steeped grass. 

Cooper stared up at him dumbfounded from the floor clutching his cheek. Sebastian’s breath came out angry and ragged, fogging the air in uneven pants. Cooper did not move to get up or reach for his wand. Despite his love for books and clever spell work, Sebastian in that moment was glad of the years of working the fields outside of Feldcroft that made him more physically intimidating than someone so scholarly rarely was. Because if Cooper had moved one inch, he wouldn’t have hesitated to hit him again. He wanted to hit him again. Partially for her, but mostly for himself because Cooper had made him feel small. Powerless. And he’d sworn to himself years ago that he'd never be powerless again.

Powerless as Cooper clearly felt. Crimson cheeked glaring up at him like the intensity of his gaze could set Sebastian on ablaze even in the torrential gail. The prickle of eyes gawping at them, making the heat rise in their cheeks and the hairs on the back of their necks stand to attention. 

“Stay away from her. She’s not yours anymore. Not anyone’s. And if I catch you in a broomstick’s length of her again after what you did today - I swear on Salazar’s grave, you will be the one sleeping in the hospital wing next time.”

Cooper’s only acknowledgement of his threat was a glob of scarlet blood spat onto the grass. But he didn’t try to rise to his feet and continued to glare at Sebastian. The tips of his ears were as scarlet as his cloak in rage or embarrassment to be laid out in front of Merlin knows how many students that were still packed into the stands. Circling vultures who would undoubtedly, pick apart his humiliation and spread it through the castle letting it grow more outlandish with each retelling. 

Let them say what they want, about Cooper or himself, let them pick them apart - they could make themselves sick on it for all he cared. He only cared about one thing at that moment.

He turned to head for the castle, ignoring the route for the changing rooms where his dry robes waited intent on striding straight for the hospital wing. 

“Sallow! What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Imelda shouted barging past the group of quidditch players standing well back from the scuffle. Her black hair was sodden and her ponytail limp, her signature scowl she wore when addressing just about anyone looked forced with the corners of her eyes creased with concern.

“Finish the match without me Imelda-” he grumbled. She stepped into his path blocking him as he attempted to push past her. 

“It’s already over. Ogspire caught the snitch and had the good sense to look sheepish about it when she realised what happened. Or the crowd would have seen two seekers knocked off their broom when I was through with her – but that doesn’t matter.”

“No, it doesn’t matter! Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to see to the only thing that does.”

Reyes placed her hands on her hips and looked him up and down, assessing him with an amused quirk on her brow - Sebastian wondered how such a tiny thing as Reyes could be as terrifying as a Hungarian Horntail like she could strip the flesh of your bones with a look. 

"Do you know why the rest of the team calls you ‘the hound’?"

"I assume it's because you told them to treat me like some sort of dog. Now if you’ll excuse-"

"You're not a good quidditch player, Seb."

"Cheers Reyes."

"Luckily Carrow is a decent enough beater to look after the rest of the team. But we keep you for one thing. You're the hound. Her guard dog. On and off the pitch. That's why she went down like a sack of shit,” she grimaced. Reyes despite her callousness, Sebastian could see how her shoulder stiffened with suppressed anxiety for one of her few close friends and it settled the anger that was still threatening to spill over. “She's potentially the only seeker in history to never be hit by a bludger. She doesn't even look for them anymore. As I said - you’re not a good quidditch player, Sebastian. But while she’s my Seeker and Carrow doing the heavy lifting…I’ll happily take a bloody guard dog over a half-decent beater. Just don't beat yourself or Cooper up about it."

“No promises about the last bit,” he griped. Averting his eyes, hoping Imelda thought the flush creeping over his cheeks was from the chill and not from the knowledge that even his own teammates shared the opinions of Cooper and his friends when it came to Sebastian’s feelings for her - which felt jumbled with both worry and speculation. 

“Go check on her. Blainey will have a fit if the whole team shows up,” Imelda said softly. She negated her uncharacteristic kindness with a firm punch to Sebastian’s arm. Her eyes glinted viciously as she looked past him to Cooper who had pushed himself off the ground dusting off his robes. “Besides…I want to have a little word with Cooper myself.”

***

A puddle had formed under Sebastian’s chair as it had dripped from his sodden robes until Madam Blainey had ushered him into the lavatory. Sebastian hurriedly stripped, cast a drying charm on his clothes and pulled them back on. Forgoing his shoes as he hopped lopsidedly out the door. Hastily pulling up the breeches which stuck against the wet hairs on his legs. Blainey wrinkled her nose at his display but left him to his vigil, being far too familiar with the pair and how persistent they could be when it came to remaining by the other's hospital bed. 

On more than one occasion she’d sent the other packing only to be greeted cheerily the next morning by a smug-faced teenager who’d tampered with her locks and wards to sneak back inside to keep the other company. After almost three years of this, she left them, albeit reluctantly, to it.  

She was curled up under white starchy sheets; a draped knit blanket barely covering her knees was sliding to the floor where she’d squirmed. No longer chilled to her bones, the colour had returned to her cheeks. Sebastian rested his head on his palm, elbow braced against his knee. He’d been in this position far too many times than was preferable but it had become familiar to him; the twinge in his neck, the ache in his arms as the hours of the vigil dragged on. Not that he minded, being beside each other was second nature. 

She shifted; eyes blinking sleepily back into focus as she rolled onto her side. Sebastian stretched rubbing the back of his neck smiling at the softness of her sleepy gaze. 

“Seb?” she sighed dreamily, her voice thick and curdled with potions Blainey had more than likely forced down her neck. 

“Who else,” he grinned. Blainey had long since satisfied her need to poke and prod at her ward and headed up to bed. And he doubted anyone had the bollocks to go against Imelda if they’d forbidden them from seeing her tonight. “You gave me a bit of a fright there, pet.”

“It’ll take more than that for you to get rid of me…” she said sitting up more jovial than he expected. “But…whoever came up with the idea of bludgers is a sadist.”

“Or a masochist. Some of us are gluttons for punishment,” Sebastian argued, pulling at the collar of his Quidditch jersey exposing the jagged scar on his shoulder. 

Faded white, the remnants of one of their summer duels. With no Blainey to patch him up in seconds, the skin had puckered and scared but he was rather fond of how it cut through the freckles. 

“If you recall, you were the one who insisted we practice severing charms after five pints in the Broomsticks.”  

“In my defence, with the amount of practice you get, I thought you had better aim when you were drunk,” he chuckled. “How are you feeling? You seem to be fairing better than I was that morning.”

“I’m made of sterner stuff. No hungover wailing over a little scratch for me,” she jabbed before grimacing rubbing the side of her head where it had struck. “Not going to say it was pleasant - nasty little buggers aren’t they. But Blainey patched me up. Made me drink that foul grey sludge for the concussion but a couple of spells for the wound and I was good as new. Honestly, the sleeping draught seemed like overkill but I think she’s just sick of catching me roaming the halls at night.”

“If she thinks that’d stop you! Don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit still for this long, you menace.”

“Or you for that matter,” she grinned, patting his hand affectionately. Moonlight spilled in from the ornate windows over the vacant hospital wing, she peered past him down the rows of empty beds. “Where’s Isaac? I thought he’d want to see me-”

Sebastian bristled, her disappointed frown souring his cheerful mood. He brushed the bruised swelling on his knuckles from where they’d connected with Cooper’s jaw. 

“What you’d rather see your ‘brave’ Gryffindor boyfriend - than me? Who’s been here.” 

Who’s always been here.

Maybe Cooper was right. Perhaps they all were and Sebastian really was pathetic. Pathetic for assuming she’d still want to wake to Sebastian at her bedside now that she had Cooper in her life. That their friendship could compare to what he could offer her. 

“No, I’m glad you’re here,” she said crossly. “But…I thought he’d want to at least check I was alright.”

“You shouldn’t want to see him after the stunt he pulled today! He’s the reason you’re in the hospital at all, might I add. Decided you were less important than a stupid game. I told him to stay the hell away from you for good.”

She blinked at him incredulously for a moment before the heat began to rise in her cheeks and she clenched her jaw. 

“How dare you! Who do you think you are deciding what I do? You have a lot of nerve, Sebastian.”

“I thought I was saving you the trouble but if you want to scurry back to him, be my guest!” Standing so abruptly his chair screeched across the floor. “Keep doing everything for everyone else when they wouldn’t give a fraction back. No matter the cost to yourself, like you always do. You can be so bloody naive!”

“I know you don’t like Isaac - you don’t even try to hide it. But you can’t dictate who I see. And I hoped you thought more highly of me to think I’d stay with him after the shit he pulled today. But, if that’s what you really think of me, you can bloody join him” she snarled.“I tell everyone they don’t know you like I do, but maybe I am naive. Seems I’m surrounded by tossers trying to knock me down. Why do you even care, as clearly you think so little of me?”

“Of course, I care! Even though you’re seemingly incapable of caring about yourself. You barely even let me. You’re infuriating! What’s more ridiculous is what someone like you would see in him. He’s not good enough for you, he never has been! You give yourself over to people who couldn’t give too shits about you and now look at you-”

“Oh, so what? My boyfriend turning out to be a complete and utter prat is somehow my fault?”

“No! Of course not,” he flustered, carding his fingers through his hair. All the words in his head felt jumbled and he could tell by the dangerous look in her eyes he’d let his temper dig himself into a hole once again. 

“Don’t hold back, Sebastian,” she spat through gritted teeth. “Did you just come here to insult me or is there something you’re trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say is you should you should be with someone who fucking cares. If it was me, I wouldn’t be risking your safety to win a stupid game! Merlin, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t risk you for anything. I thought I lost you once and it was one of the worst days of my life. If someone had tried to take you away from me I would have fought back. Fought for you. If we were together-”  

His voice died abruptly in his throat when she was no longer fixing him with a deadly eye but staring at him. Wide-eyed her mouth hung slightly a jar. He'd built up a barrier around himself and as close as he was to her, probably closer than anyone he’d still kept her at arm's length. Once again he let his temper get the better of him but instead of solidifying those walls, he’d exposed a little too much. Exposed something he’d vehemently denied to even himself.

Shone a light on a corridor in the labyrinth of their friendship and feelings he had for her he’d never explored. One he perhaps always knew was there but until now had dutifully tried to ignore lest he lose his way and not be able to make it back to the well-travelled paths of simple friendship.

“But we’re not together…” she said cautiously. As if she could tell Sebastian was a startled animal, and once the shock of his confession wore off he’d bolt. Which quite frankly he was considering. 

“No. We’re not," he responded voice clipped. Sebastian was more surprised it even worked at all with how tight his chest felt. 

“But if we were…” she said it like she was stepping out onto thin ice wondering if it would hold or she’d plunge into the unforgiving water below. “What would you do for me?”

There was no use hiding it any longer. He sighed, looking into her eyes resigning himself to that first step into the unknown.

“Anything.”

Her breath caught and Sebastian knew she could see the truth they’d danced around painted across his face and laid bare between them. Feel the finality of his words like Pandora opening the box and swarming the carefully curated distance between them with truth never to be recaptured.

Sebastian reached for her, fingers entwining in her hair tilting her chin up so she could see him. Perhaps truly for the first time, exposed and raw. Her soft lips parted as if to protest his confession but as she searched his face for the lie she found none. Sebastian was done with hiding, with pretending. The realisation that his feelings went beyond that of a companion and he didn’t care if anyone thought it pathetic. In truth, it was liberating to drop the charade he played with his own heart. 

He kissed her. 

Claiming her lips firm, not holding back the wave of desire that ignited any semblance of decorum and dignity he had left. Any whisper of a reason he’d concocted in his mind for why they couldn’t - shouldn’t be together going up in smoke. Pulling her towards by the nape of her neck, like he hadn’t realised he’d been starving until he tasted her. 

There was a desperation in the way he cupped her chin, tangled in her hair longing for acceptance. He brushed his tongue lightly against her bottom lip.

Just like that barrier between them crumbled for her too and she was kissing him back. Mouth moving against his with such a fiery intensity he thought he might catch alight. Like she too had stifled any spark she’d felt between them; kept it bottled away for so long with no chance to grow that now it was fed it devoured her.

It was not soft, nor tender – perhaps it was because neither were they.

His tongue delved into her mouth hungrily, exploring brushing against hers. He stifled a wanton moan into her mouth. 

“I think I need to break up with my boyfriend,” she said breathlessly between kisses.

“I already took care of that for you.”

For a moment, Sebastian thought she might break off their kiss and start shouting again. But she nipped at his lip satisfied with his answer. Her hand was in his hair, wrapping around his neck. Pushing up on her knees to press her chest against his. Muffled moans slipped from her lips which made Sebastian’s head spin dizzy with desire. His own strangled, desperate groan when she slid her tongue past his lips to brush tentatively against his own. Every flick of her tongue drove him further into the heady fog of desire. 

The overwhelming need to be closer. To drown in her embrace. Sebastian's knee found purchase on the bed between her parted legs. His hand ghosted down her back settling on the small of her back. She groaned as her spine curved towards him as he impressed down upon her. Still clinging to him as she fell backwards. Sebastian tumbled after her. Not caring about how his weight rested heavily upon her. She seemed to revel in the closeness, in the way Sebastian bore down on her. Desperate to be closer to her. Cocoon himself around her. Be the barrier to shield her from harm. 

But she wanted no barriers. At least not between her and the sanctuary that was Sebastian. She tugged up the hem of his jersey, eager fingers stumbling. He let his lips briefly leave hers, sitting back to pull it roughly over his head discarding it carelessly to the side. 

It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him shirtless before when they'd spent sun-drenched summer afternoons swimming in the river by Feldcroft or when errant spells had ripped or burnt the clothes from his back. But never had she looked at him like she was now - or if she had he hadn't noticed. Eyes darkened with desire raked over him hungrily as if she wanted to tear into his flesh.

She explored the breadth of him that was now exposed to her. The sparse hair on his chest, the marred skin on his shoulder the scar she’d left; a claim she’d staked on his skin long before he knew every inch of it was hers. 

His hands explored her in turn. Running along her ribs, the curve of her hips, and the dip of her waist. Committing this side of her to memory. Unbound, lustful. Still every bit the wild thing he knew her to be but with an endearing nervousness to her inquisitive touch. 

A side of her that until now had remained a mystery to him. A restricted section of a library he’d been too afraid to read from lest he be thrown from its doors entirely; on he intended to consume entirely.

“I didn't know you wanted this - Merlin, I didn't know I wanted this," he murmured between kisses.

"A life-threatening blow to the head can really knock things into perspective." 

He tilted her chin to access her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin below her jaw. She let out a startled little yelp as her body jolted in surprise. Sebastian chuckled and pressed his lips more softly against her quivering pulse, letting the tension ebb from her tightly coiled muscles before sucking a brand into the delicate skin. She groaned as her back arched towards him, breast brushing against his chest through her thin nightdress. The sweet trembling whimpers as he soothed the ache so intoxicating he felt drunk on her cries. Kneading the flesh of her breast in his palm, coaxing more delightful sounds from her lips as he tweaked the bud between his fingers. 

"I'll have to thank Isaac for-"

"Don't say his name-" Sebastian pleaded. Disliking the way any name sounded in the breathless quiver of her voice besides his own. "From now on - No one else's. Only-"

She cut him off cupping his face, prying him away from his ministrations on her jaw. She touched her lips to his gentler than the last had been, understanding the desire in his incoherent rambling. 

"Sebastian."

And she said it was the only name that mattered. He groaned deeply, burying his face in her hair. Breathing in the faint lingering scent of mallowsweet not even the storm could wash away entirely. Sebastian grasped her hip through her thin nightdress dress so he could roll his own against her core. He knew she would feel the growing need hardening in his between his legs.

Slipping under her skirt he slid a hand purposefully up the inside of her thigh. Her fists balled in the sheets as he brushed against the soaked fabric of her knickers. She shivered and certainly not from the cold, as he tentatively traced her folds. 

“Say my name again.”

She complied and he pressed his thumb against the bundle of nerves. She whined at the contact and it called to something primal within him. That doggedness, that impulsivity a part of him he tried to damper, and contain lest it consume him completely as it had done in the past - perhaps this was why he'd built a wall between her and his heart. Because once he surrendered this part of himself to her, anything he had done in the past would pale in comparison to the everything he would do for her.

Shifting the fabric to the side and dragging a finger through the slick coating her folds to press against her clit. Coaxing out mewls of pleasure with every tantalising circle of the nub. Her breath was hot against his neck and a flush had spread from her cheeks down her chest. She writhed in search of more friction as he teased her open with his fingers. Sebastian emitted a low throaty groan when he felt how silky and keen she was for him. Her breath caught in her throat and his own became more ragged as he pumped and curled his fingers inside of her. Working her open, pliant to his touch. 

His cock was strained against his Quidditch breeches twitching eagerly against her stomach with every muttered curse and keening mewl she released. Her whine into his mouth, a plea for Sebastian to give her more than just a tentative caress. Her hands which until now had been stroking along his spine and tangling in chestnut curls ran along the curve of his ribs and down his stomach. She palmed his hard length and began pulling the laces to free him from his trousers. 

Rumoured dalliances were one thing and those were bountiful. Gossip spread like wildfire whether there was truth to it or not. But if it were to be discovered Sebastian had had her completely - it could damn her. There would be no going back, no changing her mind about their feelings for each other. Not that there would be any going back for him. Not now the floodgates had opened try as he might he would not be able to close them.

He’d submitted to it. To be hers. And he knew his stubborn heart could not be turned. 

A crease formed between his eyebrows and he pulled back from their kiss. Sebastian had burned for her for longer than he knew and now his heart had begun to splutter with nerves. She smoothed the lines etched on his brow, tilting her chin up to kiss him with a soft longing. A silent affirmation that this was not a moment of madness or revenge.

“This really isn't the place, pet," he tried to reason but he made no motion to move away from her embrace. Instead, he peeled the silken nightgown over her head which she wriggled out of gratefully. Bare and laidf out below him his mouth felt dry, as she looked at him through her lashes. Chest heaving, his friend transformed into a goddess under the soft lamp light. 

"You don't think the hospital wing is romantic?"

"We could get caught?"

"We're both rather adept at getting out of trouble."

"You're sure?" 

“About you?” He nodded nervously. Her eyes softened and the words came to her easily as if somehow she'd always known it would be him. "Since the day I met you.”

Sebastian heart rattled as she undid the laces, and helped her shuck the material down his hips. He kissed her and he wondered why he tried to evade the inevitability that was her. She wrapped a hand around his cock and he bucked almost embarassingly into her grip. 

He helped her guided his cock towards her entrance, shivering as he dragged the head against her slick folds. He kissed her deeply. Passionately. In reverence to her and all she meant to him; even when he'd been too blind to see it. 

He sank into her tight heat. The noise rumbling from deep in his chest was more akin to a growl than anything human as his girth stretched her inch by inch. 

Muscles tightly coiled with nerves but a tremor of pleasure electrified her as Sebastian pressed his thumb gently to her clit soothing her delicate whimpering. Fingernails etching grooves into his shoulders he knew should sting but gods - his mind had been completely overcome in the bliss of her warmth.

"Ah- Fuck." 

Sebastian wasn't sure which one of them had uttered it the moment he bottomed out inside her. Dropping to press his forehead against hers. Hot breath disturbed her unruly hair which he had tangled, a blush staining her cheeks and lips swollen, Sebastian didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone more beautiful. 

The last thread of his control was dwindling with how tight her walls fluttered around his cock, how perfectly he fit inside her; like he belonged buried in her. But he stilled himself. Letting her adjust despite how desperately he craved the claim her to make her scream his name until she could speak no other. 

Sebastian wasn't known for his exercises in control, but he tried. For her. 

Moving his hips working himself into her with tentative shallow thrusts. Her appreciating shallow panting like blissful music. He stole a look down to where their bodies were connected. Almost coming undone completely at the sight.

"It's like you were fucking made for me," he rasped. Still circling her swollen nub admiring how each stroke strained her breathing into short needy pants. Coaxing more of her slick to coat his shaft. 

"Funny," she choked a devilish smile spreading over her face. Her eyes flicked up to his from they too had been trained on their union. "I was going to say the same thing about you."

He dared a deeper thrust. Pulling back before pushing back in with a languid roll of his hips that made her groan, wanton and needy. Her back arching skyward he slid his free arm under the space she left. Wrapping around her waist to embrace her tighter.

Her hips bucked towards him, with every deep steady thrust. Cursing a string of profanities and praise the new angle allowed the head of his cock to stroke along her sweet spot. Filthy things that would have made even him blush but if it was possible they only made him rut into her more possessively. Mouthing brainless at the curve of her jaw, as she accepted him deeper.

There was a familiarity in the unfamiliar. The way the scent of mallowsweet wrapped around him had never smelt so intoxicating. The lilt to her voice when she said his name never sounded so reedy and desperate. 

He'd been trapped outside the gates of Elysium and now indulged fully in its pleasures. Sebastian groaned, peppering kissed into the crook of her neck, spreading her knees open to take him deeper. His thumb still teased her clit with every thrust making her legs tremble. The hair on his chest and freckles across his skin did little to hide the flush of colour on his skin. Sebastian clung to her desperately, her skin soft and plush in ways he’d never let himself imagine. 

He felt her climax building around his cock. Clawing at his back as she whined, teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Desperately clinging to him, to prolong the moment neither of them wanted to end. But his own release was impressing on him fast. Coiling tightly in his gut as he began to pound into her harder his pace becoming erratic with every deliberate thrust into her tight heat. 

“Fuck. Fuck- Please, darling. Come for me,” he pleaded. Barely recognising the desperate gravelly rumble of his voice. 

“Seb- Sebastian, I’m so close!”

“I can feel you. Fucking incredible. You’re incredible, taking me so well. I can’t- I can’t hold back anymore.”

Her climax broke, with a shuddering cry of his name. Spasming and contracting as she sucked him in impossibly deeper into her cunt. Sebastian doubted there was any greater pleasure in this world than the feeling of her completely unravelling, pulsing around him. 

She was calling out to him breathless, like his name was the answer to a question her soul had been asking and he was filling in the gaps of what she never knew was missing.

His vision narrowed, until she was all there was. Blushing, dishevelled a fucking exquisite mess writhing against him - because of him. With a final uneven snap of his hips, he buried himself inside of her to the hilt. Groaning her name over and over like a mantra as he came, hard. Harder than he ever had. Hips spluttering as he spilt inside of her grinding out his release deep in her channel. 

He loosened the arm coiled around her waist allowing her to slump boneless onto the mattress. He kissed her, capturing her sweet dulcet whimpers as he coaxed her slowly down from her bliss. Letting her ride out the last of her shaking climax with gentle circles on her clit, still buried inside of her.

They stayed like that for a while, his head pressed into the crook of her neck, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Humming contentedly as rocked into her. A little gasped when he at last pulled his softening cock from inside of her. Mourning the loss of being intertwined with him completely.

Hardly big enough for two, he pulled her half draping her soft body over him so they both fit. Head resting on his chest she hummed contentedly as he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. They were silent, the only sounds were their laboured breathing and the occasional satiated sigh.

"I love you," Sebastian’s voice broke the silence. 

And it felt too big and too small all at once; like it didn't capture the enormity of what he was feeling but now that he did he could never love anyone else. Never feel the warmth of another and for it to feel like home. “I just- I want you to know in case it wasn’t obvious. You don’t have to say it back-”

“I love you too. In fact, I think I’ve loved you for a long time.”

She tilted her chin up to kiss him and the world seemed to tip on its axis. Sebastian resigned to the knowledge he would fly through a thousand more storms just so he could bask in her warmth.

***

Luxuriating in the afterglow of a perfect evening rarely lasted forever. However, Sebastian didn't anticipate his to end quite so abruptly or by being shoved out of bed by the witch he loved. Landing clumsily on the tiled floor he glared up at her disorientated. If she wasn't roughly pulling her nightdress over her head to cover her bare breasts he may have thought last night was a rather vivid wet dream.

"Blainey's coming. You need to hide," she hissed. “Quickly. Under the bed.” 

"So? She's used to it. We always stay here together-" Sebastian yawned in protest. Reaching up to fix her dishevelled hair brushing his thumb against her cheek. If possible, she blushed even more wildly than she did last night when he’d been buried between her legs. As if the affectionate hand from the man who loved her was somehow more intimate.

"Yes- but usually fully clothed! Oh for Merlin's sake-"

She snatched her wand up off the table, pointing it dead between Sebastian's eyes she muttered a disillusionment charm. Sebastian felt it trickle over him and just as his hands disappeared from view the door to Blainey’s chambers swung open. The matron shuffled into the hospital wing bee-lining for her solitary ward’s bed who was quickly stashing her wand under her pillow. Sebastian despite being little more than a trick of the light, scooted further under her cot to avoid discovery.

"Good morning, dear! How are you feeling?” she greeted her cheerily. Stopping at the foot of her bed her sensible shoes the only thing visible to Sebastian. “...You look a little flushed."

"Much better, Miss. Truly-”

"Look at the state of your sheets. Tossing and turning all night, I’ll bet," Blainey tutted. Sebastian clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a snort of laughter. "Glad I kept you in. I knew you needed a good night's rest."

“Ah. yes- slept better than I have in years,” her voice wavered unconvincingly. Terrible liar. The bed springs straining as she squirmed uncomfortably.

"You have a visitor,” Blainey said, fussing with her pillow. Sebastian tucked his feet in tighter into the cramped space. “Your boyfriend, Mr Cooper."

Sebastian stilled, his jaw tensing as he resisted the urge to charge out of the hospital wing in all his naked glory and tell the Gryffindor to piss off.

"I think Isaac is mistaken, Miss. He is certainly not my boyfriend any longer.”

Sebastian may be naked, tailbone throbbing and hunched under a hospital bed in the most undignified position anyone could possibly be discovered in - but Sebastian felt far from pathetic. Smug was probably a better word with the grin that had stretched over his face. 

The blow to the face may have hurt Cooper’s pride but it would be nothing compared to the gut punch awaiting him when he discovered how their roles had reversed. When he saw what he squandered had been entirely to Sebastian's gain. 

"Or perhaps he has taken too many bludgers to the head or he would have gleaned from his conversation with Sebastian that I don't have a boyfriend,” she said loudly enough for Cooper's prying ears likely eavesdropping on the other side of the door. 

Sebastian frowned. Snaking his hand up quickly to deliver a hard pinch to the soft flesh of her arse. She squeaked in surprise, swatting into thin air as she searched blindly for his invisible hand. He knew she’d be blushing madly and he’d probably get an earful about that later. Although he now had a lot more creative fantasies about making it up to her. 

"Something wrong, dear?" Blainey turned to her concerned. 

"Nothing!"

But, something was much indeed wrong.  

'I don't have a boyfriend' he almost gave himself away with an audible scoff. 

Sebastian would have to do something about that immediately.

[my-maehem]

Yo Yo Yo If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ma shut it for you Punk

[hogwartslegacypics]

the closest we’re gonna get to seeing beater!seb

[theladyofshalott1989]

No, I didn't make Damien and Sebastian in Quidditch Champions. No, siree. 👉👈

OK FINE, I DID. No one said I couldn't do it, okay????

Also, why is Sebastian cross-eyed? ...

[amethystandemma]

GUYS WHAT IS SEBASTIAN’S QUIDDITCH POSITION?

He gives off Beater vibes and Chaser vibes for me

[cranetreegang]

The Midnight Quidditch Club - Ominis x FemReader

mhm.... there's not much ominis and reader interactions in this, but there's still some. anyways, had a fun idea about there still being quidditch but it's like an underground street racing type club thing lol. but yeee, just a fun chapter

Recommended Music: Motorball and Quidditch Theme

Summary: The Fifth Year gets invited to a secret Quidditch Match. Sebastian and Ominis are eager to see how it all plays out.

Word Count: ~5,400 words

Read more of my Ominis Fics Here!

------------------------------------------------------------

The wooden paddle scrapes the bottom of her cauldron while she watches the color change to a pleasant shade of green. She’s about to write in her journal when the hairs on her neck stand on end. 

Again. 

She subtly looks around to find the source of her unease. Everyone is focused on their potion, or chatting with one another. She’s about to turn her gaze back on her cauldron when she catches the eyes of someone from across the room. Imelda is staring right back at her. Glaring, is more accurate as Imelda’s lip curls into a sneer. She frowns at Imelda’s hostility before focusing back on her potion. 

“Everything alright?” Ominis asks while stirring his brew. 

“I don’t know. Imelda’s staring daggers into me right now.” She checks over Ominis’ potion, satisfied with the color and consistency. “Your draught is nearly green. You’ll need to add the Mandrake soon.” 

He nods while his hand feels for the Stewed Mandrake on the table, “Any idea why you’ve earned her ire? Contrary to most, she usually doesn’t harbor such hate to just anyone.” 

“I have a suspicion it’s because I beat her flying time.” She glances over her shoulder to Imelda, who is still glaring.

Ominis laughs, “Oh, so you’re the one she’s been talking about.” 

She whips her head over to Ominis, “She’s been talking about me? What’s she saying?” 

He wafts the potion up to his nose then adds the Mandrake, making the potion sizzle, “Just that she’s wanting to get back at the ‘fledgling who thinks they’re better than everyone else’. You should be flattered, she speaks of you often. I’m surprised you haven’t heard.” 

She turns her gaze back to Imelda, “No. I haven’t heard.” 

She watches Imelda and soon Imelda’s dark eyes are staring right back. Imelda’s eyes narrow then she smirks with amusement dancing across her features.

“Something’s burning.” Ominis states. 

The Fifth Year whips back around and she gasps at her potion boiling over. She gets it back under control, but her potion is all but burnt or smoke. She catches Ominis smirking to himself out of the corner of her eye.

“Go ahead. Say it. I know you want to.” She says.

He shrugs, “Whatever do you mean? You are the potion master after all. I can only deduce that burning the draught is the required next step.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” She nudges into his side and he smiles. His fingers graze over hers and he gives her a soft press as they go by. 

“You can use some of mine. You practically made it after all.” He whispers. 

“Thank you.” She whispers back. 

They finish up their Restorative Draught and clean up their station with only a minor lecture from Professor Sharp about the quantity of their potion being ‘lacking’. She ignores Imelda’s stares and she’s thankful when Imelda leaves the classroom almost immediately. 

“Hopefully, whatever is upsetting Imelda, will pass.” She says to Ominis as they start to leave.

“Doubtful. Be on your guard.” Ominis warns.

“Can’t get enough of me?” Imelda calls just as Ominis and the Fifth Year walk out of the class. Imelda pushes off the wall she was leaning on by the classroom entrance and saunters over to them. 

“You were the one staring. I can assume you have something you wish to say.” She counters. 

Imelda smirks, “I would. Alone.” 

Ominis frowns, but eases when he feels her pat his arm.

“I’ll meet you and Sebastian at the Astronomy Wing.” She whispers.

“Very well. We’ll save you a spot.” He nods, giving her a parting smile as he leaves. 

She crosses her arms as soon as Ominis is out of sight, “Well? What is it, Imelda?” 

Imelda motions over to a more secluded corner away from the classroom’s entrance.

Imelda glances around once they’re alone then whispers, “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” She questions.

Imelda sneers, “Since you’ve gotten so cocky on a broom. Why don’t you really put it to the test?”

The Fifth Year cranes her head, “What did you have in mind? Another race?” 

Imelda snorts, “No. This will be far more demanding of actual skill.” She glances around again and speaks in a low voice, “A couple of us like to get together after curfew over at the Quidditch pitch. Keep our skills sharp.”

She frowns, “Are you suggesting a match? But I’ve never played before.” 

“Scared you’re gonna lose?” Imelda snickers. 

She rolls her eyes with a slight grin, “When is this match?”

“Go to the Pitch at Midnight tonight. Don’t be late.” Imelda saunters away and says over her shoulder, “Bring a friend. Or don’t, if you’re too scared for such public humiliation.”

The Fifth Year hums in thought while she heads towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classrooms. She finds Ominis and Sebastian already in a heated conversation in one of the lounges. Ominis turns his head towards her and smiles as she approaches.

“Ah, so what did Imelda want?” 

She sits next to Ominis on the plush couch and his hand wraps around hers. 

“She wants to put my skills on the broom to a real test.”

“A real test? What in Merlin’s name does that mean?” Sebastian wonders.

She looks around to ensure no one is listening in, then she says in a low voice, “She wants me to meet her out on the Quidditch field. Tonight at Midnight.” 

“The pitch?” Sebastian’s eyes widen, “Wait. You got invited? You seriously got an invite?” 

She furrows her brows, “Invite?” 

“Yes,” Ominis grins, “There’s been rumors of Imelda and a few others playing Quidditch, but not very many are invited to participate, or spectate. Makes it all the more tantalizing when you do get such an exclusive offer to join.” 

“So, you’re going right?” Sebastian questions. 

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I’ve never played Quidditch before. And all Imelda wants to do is embarrass me in front of everyone.” 

“Oh, come on!” Sebastian whines, “It’ll be fun! And you’ll pick it up fast. I’ll give you the rundown and you’ll be a master by tonight.” 

She looks over to Ominis, “What do you think?” 

Ominis squeezes her hand, “I believe that’s up to you. But, it could be fun.” 

She hums in thought, “I might go. If you both come with me.” 

“Deal!” Sebastian grins. 

Ominis nods, “Very well. I’ll be looking forward to you knocking Imelda off her broom.” 

She giggles, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” 

Sebastian leans forward, pulling out a piece of paper with scrawled notes, and draws out an uneven Quidditch field, “So, Quidditch is easy enough to understand. Each team has seven players. Three Chasers. Two Beaters. One Keeper and a Seeker.”

=======================================

She finds Sebastian and Ominis at the fountain by the time she sneaks out. 

“Ready for this?” Sebastian’s hot breath puffs out in a cloud in front of him. His nose and cheeks are already red while Ominis is a notable pink. Snowflakes gently flutter down and she’s thankful for the lack of a wind chill tonight.

She rubs her cold hands together, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“This should be fun.” Ominis places his arm over her shoulder, bringing her into his deceivingly warm body.

They follow the other footfalls through the snow leading to the dark Quidditch stadium. They can hear the quiet whispering and murmurings of several people as they walk onto the snow-covered field. 

“So much for this being an exclusive club.” Ominis whispers into her ear while he releases her from his warm protection.

There’s a small crowd all gathered around Imelda. The Fifth Year recognizes some of the faces from Crossed Wands, spotting Lucan in the mix talking animatedly with Leander. 

“Indeed.” She whispers back to Ominis.

“Ah, was wondering if you’d actually show your face.” Imelda smirks with her arms crossed. 

The Fifth Year approaches Imelda with Sebastian and Ominis on either side of her.

“I thought this was supposed to be a secret match.” She muses.

“Word got around you’d be going against Imelda!” Lucan interjects with a beaming smile. “Why, I couldn’t believe you’d actually go up against her! Everyone’s excited to see how the Undefeated Duelist Champion will fare against Slytherin’s own Quidditch Captain!” 

“Are you to be playing with us as well, Lucan?” The Fifth Year grins at the boy. 

He shakes his head, his curls bouncing, “No. I’m just here to keep score. And to tell the others what a legend match they missed.” 

“Looks like you already have a few fans.” Imelda drawls as she puts her hand on her hip, “We’ll have just enough decent flyers to have two full teams. If Sebastian decides to join us, that is.” 

All eyes land on Sebastian who’s wide smile speaks for him.

“And miss a chance to get the team back together? Count me in.” 

“Great. It’ll be good to have my Beater at my side again.” Imelda states then moves off to the side towards two crates. “I’ll pick the teams.” She opens one of the crates and inside are several pairs of goggles. Imelda motions towards the goggles, “Enchanted to help you see in the dark. No lights. No loud noises. We don’t need the professors coming out to investigate. Now, everyone grab a pair.” 

Sebastian snags the Fifth Year a pair and tosses them her way. She examines the goggles, looking just like regular Quidditch goggles, before she puts them on. The whole field is illuminated and she’s amazed by how well the charm works. Imelda opens the second crate which contains the Quaffle, two Blugers battling to go, and the Golden Snitch. 

“How did you get this?” The Fifth Year wonders. 

“We snuck into Madam Kogawa’s office. She never remembers to lock the supply closet.” Priscilla chimes as she hands out bright red robes to the Fifth Year and a few others.

“No snitch.” Imelda states while she passes out the beater’s bats to Sebastian, Garreth, Eric, and Charlotte. 

“No snitch?! You can’t be serious.” Leander huffs. 

“I am serious. We don’t have time to wait around for someone to catch the thing. First team to score ten goals, wins.” Imelda smirks then motions with her head, “My team, over here. Those with the red robes are with our new Fifth Year, over there. Everyone else, off the field and get to the sidelines.” 

Priscilla, Violet, Garreth, Andrew, and Lawrence follow after Imelda. 

The Fifth Year turns to Ominis, who gives her a reassuring squeeze of her hand.

“Kiss for goodluck?” She whispers to him while she messes with his scarf. 

Ominis smiles, “Of course. But, I doubt you’ll need it.” 

“Do I get a kiss too?” Sebastian grins as he drapes himself on both Ominis and the Fifth Year.

“Go away, Sebastian.” Ominis scoffs, shoving Sebastian away.

“Fine, fine. Be that way.” Sebastian chuckles and turns to join Imelda and his team. Ominis smirks, aiming his wand towards Sebastian. With the flick of his wrist, Ominis casts a quick spell and Sebastain trips, nearly going head first into the snow. 

Sebastian looks back and exclaims, “Hey! Not funny, Ominis.” 

Her and Ominis giggle while Sebastian grumbles under his breath. 

Ominis places a quick kiss on her cheek and whispers, “Good luck, love.” 

She watches him as he joins the other spectators. A decent crowd and she recognizes several faces. Samantha, Everett and Duncan all chatting amongst themselves. It’s surprising to see Grace here since her shivering makes it seem like she’s ready to leave. She even spies Hector in one of the towers on lookout duty. 

The remaining six are her fellow teammates as they walk towards her with red cloaks in their hands. Nellie is first to greet her with a beaming smile.

“Good to have you with us.” Nellie pats the Fifth Year on the back.

“Indeed. We’ll need all the help we can get.” Lenora sighs.

They all don their red cloaks and the Fifth Year takes a good look at the people she’s going to be playing with.

“I must admit, I’m surprised to see some of you here.” She comments while glancing at Lenora.

“Well, loads of us love playing. Just some of us aren’t able to officially join the Quidditch team. Not for lack of trying.” Leander grumbles. 

The Fifth Year’s brows furrow while she glances across the way to where Imelda is. She notices Imelda has mostly fellow Slytherins and they’re all excitedly chatting with each other. The Fifth Year swears most of them are on the Quidditch team together. At least, according to Sebastian.

“How many haven’t played before?” She wonders. 

Lenora, Leander, and Charlotte raise their hands with sheepish smiles. 

“With me, that makes four.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Very even teams, Imelda.” 

“Cheer up,” Nellie says, “We just need to work together to beat them. Too many captains, not enough chasers on their team, if you catch my meaning.” 

The Fifth Year nods, “I agree. So, who wants to go where?”

Charlotte and Eric both are reluctant to give up their beater bats. Lenora elects herself to be a Keeper. Leaving Nellie, Constance, Leander, and the Fifth Year all to be Chasers. 

They all get on their brooms and fly up to meet the opposing team. With Sebastian and Garreth as Beaters and Violet a Keeper, it leaves Imelda, Priscilla, Andrew, and Lawrence as Chasers.

Sebastian flies closer to her with a beaming smile, “Excited?” 

She nods, “Don’t know how well this will go. I have a feeling this may be a rather quick match.” 

“I know. Wish we were on the same team, considering this is your first time.” Sebastian points his bat towards her, “I promise to go easy on ya. Won’t send all the Bludgers your way. Otherwise, Ominis won’t let me hear the end of it.”

“How kind of you.” She smirks, sparing a glance to where Ominis is. Ominis is sat close to Lucan in the Ravenclaw bleachers at the center field. His head is turned towards Lucan while Lucan babbles about the players all lining up to start the match.

Her and Sebastian watch below at Everett and Samantha taking the Quidditch box to the barely outlined circle in the middle of the field. She looks around the pitch and notes how quiet it is. She always imagined this place to be roaring with cheers and jeers alike. Instead, it’s silent save for the few conversations being had. 

“Good luck.” Sebastian says while he takes position with his team across from her.

“Good luck.” She calls after him then finds a spot opposite of Imelda. 

There’s a fire in Imelda's eyes which rivals any of the other players. She sucks in a sharp, freezing breath while adjusting her grip on her broom. Butterflies flutter in her stomach while Everett opens the chest. He releases the two Bludgers, which shoot off into two separate directions, and he grabs the Quaffle. 

“Let the match… begin!” She can see his beaming grin as he launches the Quaffle into the air. 

As the Quaffle drops, Imelda doesn’t hesitate to launch forward and snatch the red ball from the air. The Fifth year is frozen in awe as Imelda flies straight for the goal with Priscilla and Lawrence guarding either side of her. In the blink of an eye, Imelda launches the Quaffle right past Lenora into the center goal. 

“Ten points to Imelda!” Lucan’s voice reaches the Fifth Year’s ears. 

Imelda flies by with a smirk aimed right at the Fifth Year. She watches Imelda’s team get into formation before she turns back to her own scattered team. Charlotte and Eric are doing their best to swat away the Bludgers, but Sebastian is the only one to actually direct the Bludger as it speeds right towards Leander. Lenora chunks the Quaffle and Nellie swoops in to grab it. Nellie takes off and the Fifth Year joins in to help. 

“Cover me!” Nellie shouts just before diving below Priscilla’s arm. 

The Fifth year swoops after Nellie, craning her head over to find Leander trying to keep up and Andrew hot on Nellie’s tail. Nellie looks up to the Fifth Year as they both fly next to each other. 

Nellie throws the ball, but Imelda shoots between them and snatches the Quaffle. Imelda is already at the goal and slamming it past Lenora by the time her and Nellie turn around to chase Imelda. The Fifth Year grimaces as Lucan shouts the score. Lenora throws the Quaffle to Leander, who makes it half way down the pitch before he’s slammed by Pricilla and Andrew after dodging a Bludger aimed at his head.

The Quaffle falls from his grasp and before Nellie or Constance can retrieve it, Lawrence gets to it first. He passes the Quaffle to Imelda and she scores once again.

“Yet another goal for Imelda! They’re unstoppable with the score three to nothing!” Lucan shouts. 

The Fifth Year flies over to Lenora, a plan forming in her mind. Lenora tosses her the Quaffle. She stares down the other Chasers already coming towards her. She puts the ball under her arm then takes off. She zips past Imelda’s grab and ducks under Lawrence and Priscilla’s reach. The Fifth Year sees the whites of Andrew’s wide eyes as she heads right for him. He turns out of the way and she keeps going to the goal where the Keeper, Violet, prepares to stop her throw at the center goal. The Fifth Year raises up the Quaffle and before she tosses it through the center post, she turns sharply to the right and slams it through the goal. 

“Amazing! They’re back in the game, but they have to catch up to Imelda’s strong lead!” Lucan exclaims. 

Ominis grins, clapping along with the rest of the spectators. 

The Fifth Year is quick to fly back to her side of the pitch just as Imelda is tossed the Quaffle. Nellie joins the Fifth Year, and without any words exchanged, they take either side of Imelda. Bludgers swoosh by their heads while Nellie and the Fifth Year drive Imelda to veer off her path towards the goal. Andrew flies overhead, calling for Imelda to pass to him. The Fifth Year backs off long enough to leave an opening for Imelda. As soon as the Quaffle is in the air, the Fifth year strikes. 

She snatches the Quaffle, shoving past Andrew in the process, and she speeds towards the opposite goal posts. A Bludger is hit right for her and she twists her body in time to feel the air whoosh past from the screaming ball of metal. She hears the curses from Garreth above her followed by the rapidly approaching duo of Priscilla and Imelda. The Fifth Year finds Constance amongst the buzzing players. She catches Constance’s gaze and the Fifth Year motions for Constance to be ready. Constance angles herself and as the Fifth Year flies by, she tosses the Quaffle to Constance. 

Constance doesn’t hesitate to make the final dive to the goal and scores a point with a celebratory howl. 

“This game is getting interesting now! The gap is closing, at three to two, and we just might have a night of fun!” Lucan cheers. 

Imelda glares at the Fifth Year with obvious scorn. 

“So, getting you the Quaffle seems our best bet.” Nellie states between heavy breaths. 

The Fifth Year nods, “If we keep playing like this, we might stand a chance.” 

Ominis listens keenly to Lucan and Everett as they describe the game. 

“Another point to Imelda!” Everett claps.

“A great save by Violet with the classic Starfish and Stick!” Lucan cheers.

“Nellie coming through with a spiral and a fast ball straight to Leander, who fumbles! Oh no!” Lucan gasps.

“That’s the third time this match! When will they learn.” Everett mocks. 

“Lenora with a brave Double Eight Loop and an even more impressive recovery by our Duelist Champion! She’s speeding down the pitch. Sebastian and Garreth are lining up for a play with Lawrence and Priscilla. Wow! They are not holding back and she is taking their Body Blow! A Bludger is heading straight for her. And… She dodges! With a Sloth Grip Roll and scores! Amazing!” 

“With the score eight to eight, we’re coming into a close!” Everett states.

The Fifth Year’s arms and sides feel the pounding they’ve been getting all match, but she can’t deny the way her blood is singing in her veins from the excitement. She prepares herself and chases after Priscilla with the Quaffle. Nellie cuts in front of Priscilla, driving Priscilla straight into the Fifth Year. The Fifth Year slaps the ball from Priscilla’s grasp and the Quaffle falls. 

Constance swoops underneath and grabs the Quaffle. A grin forms on the Fifth Year’s face as she goes to cover Constance’s run to the goal. Constance ducks under a Bludger then twirls to the left. She banks from Andrew’s crash course then looks to the Fifth Year for help. The Fifth Year gets Constance’s curveball then finishes the run with a shot right through Violet’s fingers and into the goal. 

The Fifth Year can’t stop her smile as she joins her other Chasers. She watches Imelda gather her team together, catching bits and pieces of her yelling. They disperse and start their drive towards the goal. Nellie covers Andrew, Leander tries to keep up with Priscilla, Constance stays near the goal, while the Fifth Year guns straight for Imelda. 

The Fifth Year follows Imelda’s gaze as she looks to pass to Priscilla. The Fifth Year can’t help the eagerness creeping in as she gets ready to intercept the pass. Imelda begins to wind up and the Fifth Year starts her dive to be right in the line of Imelda’s pass. Imelda brakes at the last minute and the Fifth Year shoots past. She looks up to Imelda with shock. The whizzing Bludger catches her attention just as it slams into her. 

She gasps at the pain shooting up her shoulder, making her lose hold of her broom. She’s careening to the ground and she observes how her body isn’t falling nearly as fast as her other freefall incident.  She crashes to the snowy ground with a grunt, her head spinning. She wheezes and writhes on the field. She clutches her arm while trying to sit up. She watches in time to see Imelda slam into Lenora, knocking Lenora through the goal and she falls to the ground, landing in the sand. Imelda tosses the Quaffle through the goal and flies off with a triumphant fist raised in the air. 

“And just like that, the score is tied nine to nine. With two players possibly out of the game!” Lucan shakes his head with a grimace. 

Ominis clutches onto the railing, willing for her to get back up. 

“Are you alright!” Sebastian lands next to the Fifth Year, his brows pinching together as he helps her to stand. 

“I’m alright.” She winces when she reaches down to grab her broom. “Well, maybe a bit sore.”

Sebastian grimaces, his mouth parting to speak.

“Time out!” Nellie screams, making Imelda laugh.

“Sure. But, if they can’t come back to play, that’s too bad. And no new Keepers allowed, remember.” Imelda states before flying to convene with her team. 

The Fifth Year gets back on her broom and Sebastian does the same. She gives him a parting nod and smile before she flies over to Lenora. 

“Lenora! Are you alright?” The Fifth Year kneels beside her fallen teammate just as the rest of the team lands. 

Lenora groans in response, slowly rising from her stupor and clutching her head.

“Do you think you’ll be able to still play?” Leander questions.

“We need you, Lenora.” Charlotte whines. “We’re so close to winning.” 

Lenora’s eyes are swimming as she looks between all their awaiting faces. She wobbles in place and mumbles out a slurred, ‘yes’.

The Fifth Year frowns, “She can’t even sit straight, let alone fly.” 

“And what about you?” Nellie questions, motioning towards the arm she’s holding. 

“I can fly. But I doubt I’ll be able to throw a Quaffle.” 

The Fifth Year looks over to Imelda’s team. Sebastian catches her eye and she remembers of a play he talked about during one of the World Cups.  

“I may have an idea.” She turns back to her team. “It’s risky. But it could work. Especially since we don’t have a Keeper.” 

“We don’t have much to lose. I’m surprised we haven’t lost already.” Nellie smirks. 

“Agreed. Whatever plan you have is bound to work.” Eric grins while putting his beater’s bat behind his neck. 

“The Beaters will need to keep the Bludgers going in the middle of the pitch. Nellie and Constance, you’ll need to back off while I have the Quaffle.” 

“But, they’re swarming you. And you said so yourself, you’re not in the best state to be trying to score.” Nellie says.

The Fifth Year nods, “I know. It’s because they’re swarming me, we’ll use that to our advantage. Because I’m going to give the Quaffle to you, Leander.” 

“Me?!” Leander squeaks. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Eric grimaces. “No offense, Leander. You just haven’t had much luck with keeping the Quaffle.” 

“Which is why he’ll be perfect. You’ll be by our goal. Once I’m making my way to you, you’ll meet underneath me and I’m going to drop you the Quaffle as I pass by. You’ll make the run to the goal while Constance and Nellie have your back and Charlotte and Eric covering you. The goal will be a straight shot.” The Fifth Year can see the doubt lacing Leander’s wide eyes. She places a hand on his shoulder, “You can do this Leander. We’re counting on you.” 

Leander gulps, but nods, “I can do this.” 

Nellie spares a concerned glance to the Fifth Year then to Leander.

She sighs, “Not the worst plan. But, I guess we’ll see what happens.” 

They help Lenora into the stands then take their positions, with the Fifth Year holding the Quaffle. She ignores the jolts of pain shooting up her arm and clutches the Quaffle close to her side. She sucks in a sharp breath while Imelda and her team wait eagerly for her next move. The Fifth Year leans forward on her broom and she takes off. 

Blurs of arms and hands reaching out shoot past the Fifth Year as she rockets by. She yanks her broom up and aims for the heavens. Her stomach plummets as she leans back and dives through Imelda and Pricilla’s reach. She banks to the right and dips below the stadium. She zips through the rafters while Andrew flies above her looking for a way in and Lawrence is swiping at the back of her broom. The beams create an oscillating whoosh while her heart skips a beat when she feels her whipping robe brush the pylons as she passes. 

The Fifth Year launches out of the rafters and heads right for her own goal. She glances behind her and the field is laid clear. She aims straight for Leander and she’s pleased to find him coming towards her. She twists herself and hangs off her broom with one hand and one leg, then she drops the Quaffle right into his outstretched arms. A force collides into the Fifth Year’s back and she’s tackled fully off her broom. 

She sees flashes of brown hair and green robes as they fall, landing on the ground with a gasp. She looks over to find Imelda writhing on the ground with her. She turns her attention over to Leander as he makes his flight to the goal. She watches with bated breath as Bludgers barely miss Leander. Priscilla and Andrew are about to catch up to Leander, but Constance and Nellie intercept to block their attack.

Leander approaches the goal and rears up to throw the Quaffle. Violet dives off her broom towards the lower right goal post where Leander is aiming. Just as Violet reaches for it, Leander clutches the Quaffle to his chest and turns to the center post. He aims then launches the Quaffle. 

The whole stadium takes a breath as the Quaffle spins in the air. The Quaffle flies true right through the center goal and the small crowd lets out a loud cheer. The Fifth Year laughs, clapping and hollering as well. Imelda punches the snow with curses muttering under her breath. 

Leander is swarmed by Nellie, Constance, Garreth, Eric, Lawrence, and Charlotte, all screaming his name in excitement. 

“Unbelievable! The Red Robed Underdogs have won it! Amazing match!” Lucan shouts with glee. 

Everett nods in agreement, “Couldn’t have agreed more. I hope there’s a rematch! Imelda is certain to not let this slide.” 

The students all rush onto the field while everyone lands to meet them. Everyone gathers around Leander, picking him up and placing him on their shoulders. The Fifth Year grins at the celebration. She stands then offers her hand to Imelda. Imelda sneers at the offer, but rolls her eyes as she takes the Fifth Year’s hand. 

“Good game.” The Fifth Year says with a smile. “I had a load of fun.” 

Imelda scoffs, “Just cause you got lucky, doesn’t mean you’re actually any good. Best two out of three.” 

She laughs while shaking her hand with Imelda’s, “Deal.” 

“And don’t think you can pull any more of those sneaky World Cup plays on me again, fledgling.” Imelda has a hint of smile tucked away under her scowl. She turns on her heel to meet with Priscilla and Grace, who are on the outskirts of the rowdy students. 

“Are you hurt?” Ominis asks as he rushes up to her. “From what Lucan was saying, you took quite a beating out there.” 

“Nothing a bit of Wiggenweld and a mug of warm Butterbeer can’t fix.” She hisses when she tries to lift her arm, making Ominis grimace.

“You’re reckless, you know that?” He sighs while he grabs her hand. Snow dusts his hair and shoulders. She’s surprised he’s still so warm to the touch.

“Just a bit. But you love it.” She teases. 

Ominis’ cheeks warm and he shakes his head with a scoff. 

“Not bad.” Sebastian says while tossing the beater’s bat into the Quidditch chest. “Sorry about that Bludger business. Was supposed to just miss you, but my aim was a bit off. 

“Your aim was off?” She questions with a raised brow.

“Well, I may have gotten too competitive for my own good.” Sebastian admits with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

“You were the one to Bludger her?” Ominis scowls. 

“I said I’m sorry! I truly didn’t mean to.” Sebastian’s eyes widen as Ominis looks ready to jinx him. 

“It’s alright. I would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t at least try, Sebastian.” She winks, making him chuckle.

“See! All is well.” Sebastian puts his arms around both of their necks. “What say you two on continuing this party at the Three Broomsticks? I believe I heard someone saying they needed a Butterbeer, or two.”

“Losers buy first round?” She grins.

Ominis nods, “I like the sounds of that.” 

“You two are despicable. Kicking a poor boy while he’s down.” Sebastian chuckles, making the other two do the same.

“Professors! Professors are coming!” Hector shouts from the tower. 

The whole pitch becomes alive with students hopping on their brooms and shooting off into the night. She grabs Ominis’ hand and takes him over to her broom. 

“Another exciting flight?” Ominis smirks while wrapping his arms around her waist.

“You would only be so lucky.” She takes off with Sebastian right behind her. 

Her and Sebastian can see the lights of three wands as they head towards the pitch. They can make out the shouting from Mister Moon below saying they must all return, or face detention and then expulsion. 

“Do you think they’re serious?” She wonders as they turn towards Hogsmead. 

“Probably. Which is why we should hide out until morning and wait for this to all blow over.” Sebastian smirks. 

“Agreed.” Ominis chimes in. “Although, I believe we do have an exam in the morning.” 

A collective groan is shared as they change course back to Hogwarts. They land in the Transfiguration Courtyard and rush to hide in the Undercroft, where they envision warm Butterbeers and a hot meal until morning.

-------------------------------

AN: brosephs, this was so hard to write a no named fifth year. like 'she' and 'her' are only good when SHE is the only girl in the scene lol. at this point, Fifth might be her first name and Year is her last name.

and i had to make a whole ass spreadsheet to figure out 1) WHO would be at this secret quidditch match and 2) WHO would actually be a player

I was going through the ENTIRE list of hogwarts legacy students to ensure i got the right cast. so silly i know lol

and did i take a line straight outta the first movie... you bet your sweet bippy i did. AND I"LL DO IT AGAIN!

[unholywriter]

less messy version of a winning kiss 😌

[morelikeravenbore]

... [she] stared unashamedly at the long, lithe shape of him, the broad expanse of shoulders quivering with anger, freckled skin stretched over ridges and bumps she'd only touched but never seen. Water beaded down his bare chest like drops of sweat. She traced the slow drip of them right down to his stomach.

— How to Make a Villain, chapter twenty-seven [wattpad | ao3]

[boxdstars]

i already love anne being the more chaotic twin, but imagine if she was the quidditch fanatic between the two of them! like seb is a mega nerd (and i adore him for it) but anne is the one going crazy on the quidditch pitch.

[my-maehem]

Why did you get into quidditch If you don’t care for the sport?

Bonus:

He’s right… he’s right….

[theealbatross]

fight the alchemy (s.s)

Plot | After a tumultuous year, Sebastian’s life was finally okay – passable, up-to-scratch, satisfactory. And he had just almost reached peace – when his brilliant, painfully observant, carelessly crude genius of a friend, Garreth Weasley, started pointing out unnecessary facts that could rip all that harmony to shreds.

or, Garreth asks why Sebastian isn’t dating you. Sebastian spirals.

Tags | fluff, sebastian is a thought daughter, low self esteem, seb is a playboy BUT NOT REALLY, horny thots but we keep it pg, insecurity so deep you try to fight cupid, cupid fights back

An Ashwinder’s wand to his neck and Sebastian could honestly and truly say that he was … alright.

Life wasn’t perfect, by any means. His uncle was murdered dead, an estranged twin sister in Paris who refuses to answer his letters, a mistrustful Ominis that breathes on his neck, and a tattered companionship that was barely hanging on by a thread.

But he was okay.

Thankfully, Solomon was still dead, Anne was still alive, and still cranky Ominis is now open to reconciliation. Plus, if all else had fallen, he at least managed to save your cherished friendship thanks to your forgiving nature.

Thus, as thanks to the people who had not yet given up on him, he had sworn to live the rest of his academic life as a meek, unassuming, law-abiding student of Hogwarts.

And he did such a good job at it.

The professors are now impressed at his steadily increasing grades (so much so that the Ravenclaws are now finally seeing him as a threat again) and he even managed to make Imelda’s team as her beater to keep him occupied.

The latter, however, had a grating consequence – he had become popular.

It was thrilling, at first, he went on dates to make up for the years he had lost, kissed the pretty girls because it felt like he should (as one of the few bastards lucky enough to live every raging teenager’s dream), and accepted the slaps on the face politely when they inevitably broke up.

But now he’s just gotten tired and bored of it all.

Ominis says it’s a genius’ folly, to always find a fault in something and then drop it when it doesn’t quite meet his standard of perfect. Leander says he’s just a bastard.

He cups his face with his hand, wincing. Her fucking ring caught on his skin and he can’t be arsed to suffer through the bitterness of a Wiggenweld Potion for a mere scratch.

Garreth doesn’t bother to swallow his bread before saying, “Really, mate? I thought you liked this one?”

“Liked her rack, more likely,” Andrew quipped from his seat on the stone steps of the boathouse.

Sebastian threw his scarf on his face, satisfied at his squawk.

“No talking about my ex-girlfriends,” he warned. It was one of his few rules when it came to his male friends. He may be a bastard but as someone with a sister and a couple of good female friendships, he makes it a point to never become one of those losers who talk badly about women they have a history with. Just so he can have a moral high ground when he beats up anyone who might do it to his friends.

“All right, all right,” Andrew raised his hands in playful surrender, throwing Sebastian’s scarf back to him. “But as your friend, I think it’s about time you stop swapping out girls every time you get bored of them.”

“I don’t swap them out,” he rolls his eyes. “Breakups are normal.”

“Breakups are normal,” Garreth points out. “Six breakups in 2 years is an issue.”

“Maybe I’m just meant for the bachelor life,” he mumbles, ignoring the pointed accusation from Garreth. Fucking perceptive prick. “Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate in Hogwarts, asshole.”

Garreth grins, “Natty’s great, isn’t she?”

Sebastian and Andrew both throw their scarves at him, the three of them bursting out in laughter and boos.

“To the Three Broomsticks, then?” Andrew stood up, patting his pants.

As 7th years it was nearly impossible to take a breather with the looming threat of exams that will dictate the rest of your life and the inescapable trap of adulthood that awaits them in a couple of months. So, his friends had made it a point to at least go out once every week whenever they could, really take advantage of their last year as students where they had no other responsibility but to survive the week.

In a year’s time, seeing each other as often as they do will be nothing short of a miracle.

“Leander and Everett are already there, saved up a table since it’s a Friday, it’s gonna be packed full,” Andrew explains.

Sebastian looks around, eyes scanning the castle in the setting sun. “You go on ahead I’m waiting for –”

“Sebastian!”

A flash of movement appeared rushing down the stairs towards the boathouse, your face beaming as you waved to the three of them. When you were a foot away from him you jumped into his arms, shrieking energetically when he grabbed your waist and lifted you above his head.

“Sorry, I’m late,” you pant, smiling at your friends once you’re back on the ground. “Professor Hecate asked me to stay back for a minute, something about revisions on my research.”

“I can’t believe you got permission to research in The Restricted Section after the crazy nonsense you pulled in 5th year,” Garreth shook his head. Sebastian wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side, beaming in pride. Nobody knows but the two of you that the very thing you were researching were the technicalities of how you broke Anne’s curse so it could be taught to the nurses in St. Mungos and hopefully spread to the rest of wizardkind.

“It’s exactly because I had the nerve to break the rules that I was given the honorable opportunity,” you dramatically curtsied. “And they said Gryffindors were the brave ones.”

That made Sebastian laugh. Garreth blinks, eyes squinting at him for a second but he doesn’t look offended, more … focused on Sebastian.

“Alright, no more of that House Rivalry. Quidditch Season is over,” Andrew quips.

“Wiped your asses there too, Larson,” he quipped, Andrew’s jaw drops, looking at Garreth for help and receiving none. He was still staring at Sebastian, eyes shifting between him and you.

Andrew groans. “Slytherins are assholes.”

Slytherins are, apparently, also light-weights.

Well, at least one of them is.

He adjusts his hold on your body as the other hand wraps his coat around your body properly. After your last ‘improved’ butterbeer you had slumped into his lap, rudely snoozing off on the crook of his neck and refusing to wake up even when it was time for your group to leave – not that he would’ve allowed that to happen, with your demanding research it was a miracle to get you to sleep let alone let loose.

The rest of the group had gone in first to scope the scenery and bribe the patrolling Head students with leftover chips while he and Garreth were stuck carrying you and an unconscious Amit that they had managed to catch last-minute in Hogsmeade. Poor bastard.

“I was thinking –”

“Please don’t,” he groans.

“Why have you two never dated?”

Sebastian stops his fussing, barely able to use his head to ensure he keeps walking, and continue to Act Normal, now using both of his hands to hold you tighter.

“You’re drunk,” he deflects. The puffs of your breath warm his entire body.

“Because! When I think about it …”

Please, for the love of the great Merlin stop thinking.

“You’ve been inseparable from the start! I can’t believe it’s escaped my notice you’ve never dated. You say your past relationships got boring and got annoying but you’ve never been bored and annoyed with her and you’ve been friends for years!”

Bored with you? He’s had more near-fatal heart attacks because of you than breakups. Sebastian barely had the time to be bored. And sometimes you do get at each other’s throats but it was always fixed after a proper conversation. If his killing his uncle couldn’t turn you away then he doubts anything you do could ever turn him away.

“Plus, with all the respect and love to my beautiful darling Natty, she’s a fucking catch, mate!”

If Garreth wasn’t carrying a sinless half-dead Amit, Sebastian would’ve punched him in his mouth just to stop him from talking.

“I’m just saying,” Garreth walks ahead of him, clearly aware of the fuse he had just lit. Sebastian was tempted to kick the back of his knees just for the satisfaction of seeing him fall.  “Maybe you can join the club and find your soulmate in Hogwarts.”

Garreth winks.

“We’re still accepting members.”

He’s decided.

He needs to kill Garreth.

He has not been able to sleep properly for the past week and it’s all because of that ginger prick and his needless remarks.

“Why have you two never dated?”

Sebastian’s pencil cracks in his hand.

“Is he alright?” he hears an underclassman whisper on the other table. He glances at them and they flinch. Quickly, he softens his expression ("You really need to stop scowling at people, Sebastian."), unaware he had glared at them and sent a wary smile in apology. It would just be unfair to aim his ire at innocent people when he could just use it to rip out every strand of Weasley’s hair.

“He’s been staring at that page for an hour. Maybe we should call –”

He stands up, escaping.

Sebastian never realized just how much he spent his time with you until people were looking at him funny when he was walking or sitting alone in public places. At first, he thought there had been crumbs on his face or one of his asshole friends stuck a note on his back like a kid. Plus, he hadn’t been feeling his best since that night but he thought it had been the lack of sleep.

It wasn’t until he had met Imelda on the grounds that he found his answer:

“Where’s the rest of you?”

He blinked at his captain, “I’m sorry?”

She shook her head. “Man, it feels weird seeing you alone. Did you guys have a fight? You’re usually shadowing her like a puppy after class.”

Then everything clicks, the strange looks, the feeling of missing something (like a forgotten important homework after he had reached the top of the Astronomy Tower) – it’s been a side effect of avoiding you.

Okay, it’s not that he’s avoiding you per se. He just needs space. He needs to think and he finds that can’t do that once he feels your eyes on him. With his luck, you’re going to see right through him and that would just be unideal if not a fucking catastrophe.

That’s why he’s taken it upon himself to stay off your way until he puts his thoughts in a row and finally screws his head on straight again. Or he could just kill Garreth, get sent straight to Azakaban, and avoid confronting these complicated thoughts altogether.

“I can’t believe it’s escaped my notice you’ve never dated!”

He sits on a bench, hands on his head as he let out a prolonged groan, “The fucking bastard.”

Why did he have to point it out? Why did Garreth have to bring what he, upon reflection, had buried on the back of his head, just waiting for that one little flick of acknowledgment before it blew his brains out.

Because Sebastian is a lot of things but he’s not a fucking moron.

It’s not that the thought of being together is unpleasant. If he lets himself consider it his chest feels like it would escape his ribcage both in excitement and utter terror.

But Garreth was right: he’d never thought about it before – hadn’t thought the idea was conceivable in this reality.

He has a feeling it was his way of preserving whatever pure relationship he had left. He’s not exactly rich with true companionship and he’s not idiotic enough to risk it all over a bloody crush. 

And not just any crush – his best friend, the person who saved his life and then helped him rebuild it when he was finished smashing it to pieces. The one who never turned her back even when his blood had given up. The girl who has a line of eligible bachelors following her on their knees for a single chance, ones who could offer her more than he ever could – ones who could offer her the world.

So, yeah – forgive him, but he’s never really allowed himself to entertain the idea of them dating. Sebastian has tested his luck enough.

Unless the roles switch and he gets to save the wizarding world this time then maybe … yeah, maybe -- maybe in another fucking life.

The thought makes him stand up, walking straight out of the campus to hopefully drown the sorrows of the depressing state of his love life with the best fire whiskey Hogshead could offer. How does he even move on from this? How does he make peace with the fact that he has sealed his fate of living the rest of his life alone? 

It’s impossible, he’s decided. Even if he graduates at the top of the classes he is taking and gets accepted into the Auror Programme that Sharp had recommended him for, their social standing is still heavens apart. He’s an orphan, with a husk of an extended family and no money to his name.

It wouldn’t matter to you, never really cared for pure bloodlines or lineages and he knows anyone who brings that up when they’re courting you will receive the most disgusted look on your face. 

But he cares – you are the most special person in his life. He wants the best for you. And the best is not something he can provide.

His depressing thoughts halt as his steps falter, a familiar scent tickling his nose. A familiar scent that leads straight into the Forbidden Forest. When he looks up to the sky, he realizes the sun has almost finished setting.

She can’t be that reckless, right?

He was barely surprised when he chanted the incantation that triggered the charm they had both put in their necklaces, the sparkling thread leads straight into the forest. And if he knows you half as well as he thinks he does then he knows exactly where it’s gonna lead to.

There goes his late-night plan.

It isn’t exactly his first jaunt in the forbidden space but it still gives him the creeps especially so close to the night. Why you’re so fond of the place is something he’ll never understand.

But that’s just the way you were, just another part of your quirks that makes you so endearing.

How you throw your head back when you laugh, that you get so cranky when you’re studying that no one dares to approach you but him, even the way you messily eat your favorite chocolate pastry of the week yet never fail to share a piece with him.

With this new revelation, he bitterly accepts the reason for his philandering ways. That he simply is another prick who is coping with not being able to attain the love of his life at the expense of those poor girls.

His self-condemnation however was cut short when he heard the waterfall, not being able to help the smirk on his face when he turned the corner and found you just as he had expected: in the middle of the clear, dark, water, floating carelessly on your back.

Gods, you are a beauty. He’s always thought so, the entire male population in Hogwarts thought so too. If they somehow get to break through your walls and manage to get to know you, he might just have to beat them away with an actual stick.

“Sebastian,” you smile, his heart stops. “I knew you’d find me.”

You swim to him gracefully, barely disturbing the water with only your eyes above the water but there was no hiding the grin in your face. Like a pitiful sailor seduced by a siren, his feet dragged him to the edge, a short ledge above from where you were looking up at him.

“You left your scent on purpose,” he states, kneeling to get a closer look at you. What a beauty – mischievous, cunning, irresistible. He’s never loved anyone more. “Naughty, naughty, darling.”

She pulls herself up the ledge, their faces inches away from each other. He nails his eyes to yours so they wouldn’t be tempted to look down at your soaking figure cloaked only by a thin chemise “I had to get you somehow, knew you couldn’t resist a damsel in distress.”

“Funny,” he softly glares, chuckling when she preens, clearly satisfied that her plan worked perfectly. “With all the water in the Black Lake, you had to pick the Forbidden Forest to swim in.”

You dip yourself back down in the water, swimming away but still facing him. “Come, Sebastian. I’ve been bored all week since you’ve been avoiding me.”

Guilt runs through his spine at the sudden coldness in your offhanded comment. Clearly, his absence hasn’t escaped your notice as he had hoped.

Like a scolded pup, he follows your command to a T. Eyes never leaving your floating figure as he removed his coat, folding it neatly along with the rest of his clothes until he was left in his underclothes.

He winces at the touch of the freezing water. A heating charm would do wonders but the way your unsympathetic eyes never left his figure gave him a feeling that this was a punishment he was meant to endure.

He steels himself, diving into the water and only resurfacing when he is right in front of you. “You called?”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” you splash the cold water at him, shrieking when he reaches out for your arms and barely managing to slip away.

He dives again, grinning at your confused flounder, until you realize your mistake, looking down just as he catches your waist, your surprised shriek, and his unrestrained laughter breaks through the quiet of the forest.

“You done running now, pet?” he locks his hands on your back, pushing you close until he is carrying both your weight in the water, chin resting on your chest as your hands run through his soaking hair.

Your darkened hair frames your face, like a sheer curtain it drops, teasing his cheeks, and hiding your conversation from the rest of the forest – in the dimness, your eyes have never been more radiant, even if it was clearly pissed at him.

Skinship wasn’t foreign between the two of you. When you’ve saved each other’s lives from certain death more times than you care to count, cuddling is the least of your worries.

But there is something about the forest's silence, the sparse moonlight that peaks through the dense trees, the sound of the droplets falling from your hair to the water, and the distant echoes of the animals that make everything intimate. -- more intimate than usual.

“Are you?” you throw his question back at him mercilessly, your hands on the back of his neck, locking his face to look up at you – finally at you. The weeklong separation had been torture and now that the distance had cut his regular contact with his favorite witch, he finally realized how fast his heart was beating when he was around her.

He smiles.

He was satisfied, he swore he was.

Sebastian’s life was finally okay – passable, up-to-scratch, satisfactory. He shouldn’t strive for more, couldn’t allow himself that luxury – the luxury of love, the luxury of you.

But as he stares at your eyes, as he feels the ice in your skin, as he imagines a future where it wasn't him that gets to bite the plump of your lips – that dirty, greedy part of him crawls out of the hole he had shoved it in.

He feels it win.

“Are you done running now?” you whisper, a droplet falls from the tip of your nose to the space just below his eyes, his breath hitches, like your magnetic presence had sucked out all the air of the forest.

“I wasn’t running,” she raises a brow, and Sebastian presses his lips to your ears. “I was thinking.”

“And?”

Leander was right: he really is a bastard.

But he’s a bastard who will no longer wait for another life to love you. He's a bastard who will get what he wants.

“I think,” he whispers, at peace. “I think I’m gonna marry you someday.”

[shadowtriovibes]

pt. i: break a sweat

pt. ii: blood, sweat and tears || pt. iii: sweat it out || pt. iv: never let 'em see you sweat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex, dubious safe sex methods, even more dubious interpretations of how the room of requirement works

Summary: sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

"Speaking of which," you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. "What prize will you not be winning?" Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, "I have something in mind." You force yourself not to get distracted. "Do tell." "If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game," he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

Seeing Sebastian for the first time since the end of your sixth year at Hogwarts is quite the shock.

You knew from his detailed letters that your dearest friend had spent the better part of his summer break training for Quidditch tryouts in the fall, frequently flying down to the Poidsear Coast to log hours and hours at their pitch.

Sometimes he would even bring Anne along with him when she was feeling well enough to ride on the back of his broom. He’d convince her to release a secondhand Snitch for him to track down, and while he hunted it down, she worked on the assignments your professors had set to help her prepare for her return to Hogwarts in the fall.

He’d even written to tell you that he’d never felt more confident on a broom, and that if he only got to have one last season on your house team before leaving school, he was determined to make the absolute most of it.

You knew all of this, and yet when you first see him in the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, you nearly swoon like a Muggle schoolgirl at the sight of him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s taller. Even seated next to Anne at the Slytherin table, you can see his entire head whereas you can barely make out the top of his sister’s. Sebastian had never seemed that much bigger than his twin before, but things have clearly changed.

Then, you notice that his complexion has changed as well. He’s tan from spending all summer training in the sun, his button-down shirt suddenly looking so crisply white against his sun-kissed face.

His freckles, too – there are so many more.

But that could also just be because there’s simply more Sebastian now. His shoulders are broader, his chest wider, and even his hair has grown long enough to brush upwards into a less haphazard style (though certainly not as severe as Ominis’).

It’s as if your boyish Sebastian from the previous school year had quite suddenly become a grown man in just three short months, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

It takes you a few minutes to adjust as you slide into a seat across from him next to Ominis, and based on the look on Anne’s face, she at least knows what’s got you so flustered.

During a lull in conversation about Anne’s return, you tell Sebastian, “You’re looking fit.”

You hope you can casually get it out of the way, and that no one will dwell on it.

“Am I?” he asks with an easy smile.

“I mean physically,” you insist, remaining one step ahead of him. “I nearly mistook you for one of the Beaters for the Magpies.”

“Sebastian could never be a Beater,” Anne interjects. “He’s too much of a show-off to be anything but the Seeker.”

“I’ll be whatever the team needs me to be,” he insists. “I practiced for all four positions this summer, so wherever they want to slot me in is fine.”

“Silly Sebastian,” Violet McDowell calls out from a few seats down, a wicked grin on her face. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that there are many more positions than just four?”

Your entire end of the table bursts into laughter while Sebastian simply flashes a wicked grin, and you think about using your ancient magic to hurl one of the stacked platters of food in front of you at Violet’s head. (Or maybe you should simply toss her out into the courtyard.)

“Is this how it’s going to be this year?” Anne sighs. “When I left, Sebastian was just an awkward boy with his nose always buried in a book, and now the girls are lusting after him.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Ominis agrees. “He had a big enough head before he was attractive.”

“I think it’s excellent,” Sebastian laughs. “It’s about time everyone realized that I’m the perfect man, and all it took was a little bit of Quidditch practice and one last growth spurt.”

“‘All it took,’” Anne mumbles at the same time Ominis exclaims, “‘Perfect man?!’”

While both his sister and best friend take turns putting dents in Sebastian’s inflated ego, he takes it in stride and sneakily winks at you from across the table when he catches you silently observing, your gaze firmly settled on the sharp line of his jaw.

Sebastian makes a mental note of the fact that you immediately go red. Even if no one else notices, he certainly does.

—

Two weeks later, you and Anne link arms with Ominis to walk down with him to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Slytherin team tryouts.

“Now that I’ve got a brilliant witch on each arm, I suppose I won’t be needing my wand as often to get around,” he teases.

“Please, I know a thing or two about that wand of yours,” Anne replies. “Last year I spent a full month reading books on wandcraft that Sebastian brought me from the library. If I had to guess, I think you can probably ‘see’ more clearly than either of us can. It’s powerful.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Ominis demurs. “I’m just naturally perceptive.”

Once you arrive at the pitch, the three of you take seats along the practice bleachers with a few of your housemates, who chat excitedly when the Slytherin hopefuls begin to take the field.

You spot Sebastian quickly, even among nearly two dozen others in green practice uniforms circling for warmups on their brooms. Compared to how big he’d looked at the start of term in just his school robes, he’s huge now – equipped with pads across his shoulders, forearms and shins that accentuate his muscular form.

He’d declined a helmet, of course, because despite his newfound bulk he’s still the same exasperatingly headstrong boy you’ve nurtured a crush on for nearly your entire school career.

“Between us, what do you think his chances are of making the team?” you ask Anne.

“Truthfully?” she smirks. “I think he’ll have his pick of positions, unless Imelda wants to humble him on purpose.”

“Which one would be humbling?” you ask, amused.

“Probably Chaser,” she muses. “He’d be an excellent Chaser, of course, but it’s his least favorite.”

“I’ll bet he becomes a Beater,” Ominis offers. “Without the Dark Arts, I’d like him to have some sort of outlet for his intensity.”

“Fine, then I’ll say… Keeper,” you say, smiling to yourself at your private joke that only Sebastian would appreciate. “Because that way he’ll get to stay in one place the whole game and know that everyone’s eyes are on him.”

—

Shortly after tryouts wrap up, Imelda sequesters herself in the girls’ dorm to put together her official roster and the majority of Slytherin’s upperclassmen start passing around Butterbeers while they settle in to await her decision.

Sebastian is inarguably the center of attention, casually leaning against a table in the corner with Anne at his side. A flock of fifth-year girls crowds around him to listen intently as he talks about the impressive diving save he’d made, capturing the Snitch just feet from the ground.

“He’s going to be insufferable now,” Ominis groans while the two of you watch from across the room. “There’s barely enough room for his ego in this friendship as it is.”

“Come now, we can keep him in check,” you laugh. “Especially with Anne here.”

“It’s really good to have her back,” Ominis agrees softly, smiling to himself when he hears Anne’s voice through the noise, telling Sebastian’s fan club how he’d attempted a similar save over the summer and ended up crashing into a derelict poacher camp.

Huh.

However, before you can spend too much more time thinking about Ominis and Anne, you hear the noise in the room spike as Imelda saunters down the stairs, a rolled-up piece of parchment in her hand.

“Who’s ready to meet this year’s Slytherin Quidditch team?” she calls out, and the entire room bursts into excited cheers.

She starts to read off from her list, allowing brief pauses for applause after each name. You and Ominis snake through the common room to stand by Sebastian. He seems to be perfectly calm, but by now you can recognize some telltale tension lingering in his jaw.

Anne holds one of his hands to reassure him, swaying a bit nervously herself.

While Imelda works her way down the list, the four of you learn that hasn’t been named Slytherin’s Keeper. He’s not a Beater either, nor is he ultimately a Chaser.

“Lastly, your newest Seeker,” Imelda teases as she reaches the end of the list. “...It’s obviously Sallow!”

Sebastian beams brilliantly while Anne pulls him into a tight hug, and Ominis smiles and murmurs his congratulations to his friend, assuring him he always knew he’d make the team.

There are several other girls quick to offer their congratulations as well, but you wait for the crowd around him to thin out and for Anne to escort Ominis to get more Butterbeers before you sidle up next to Sebastian and nudge your shoulder against his.

“Excellent work, Bash,” you murmur. “You put on quite a show at tryouts.”

“Only because you were watching,” he flirts back, and you roll your eyes fondly.

Since the start of term, he’s been relentless with his play-flirting. You resist it as much as you can, but it always makes your heart race when he calls you “love,” or offers to carry your books for you, or even charms little notes poking fun at your classmates into tiny birds that gracefully land on your desk during classes.

(You don’t have the heart to ask him to knock it off, because even though you know he doesn’t mean it, it still feels nice to be the center of his attention.)

“Then I’ll have to come to see you start in next week’s match,” you offer. “Especially if you only play that well when I’m watching.”

“You can be my good luck charm,” he jokes. “Felix Felicis is prohibited, but you’re not.”

“That was awful,” you laugh, but Sebastian just grins.

“Tell you what,” he says after a moment. “We should make a bet on it.”

“A bet?” you ask. “On what, that you’ll win?”

He shakes his head. “Too easy, we’re playing Ravenclaw, we’ll obviously win. I mean something more challenging.”

“You’re clearly confident,” you tell him. “What are your terms?”

He considers his offer for a moment and then says, “I’ll bet that I can catch the Snitch in under thirty minutes. I’ll even let you be the official timekeeper, since I’ll be a bit preoccupied.”

“Under thirty?” you ask skeptically. “That’s nearly professional, Sebastian. Ominis told me most games last at least an hour.”

“I’ve been practicing all summer,” he insists. “Anne would release a Snitch and I’d even give it a five-minute head start, but I never let one get further away from me than the far side of Marunweem Lake.”

“Careful, Sebastian, you sound quite cocky,” you murmur, and you think you see Sebastian’s gaze dip down to your mouth for a split second.

“I am,” he agrees. “In fact, I’ll even let you pick your prize first, for if you win.”

“Alright,” you laugh. “When I win, I want… for you to write my History of Magic assignments for the next month.

“That’s it?” he scoffs. “You could have anything and you want me to write your essays?”

“I didn’t start studying magic with the rest of you lot, and I don’t know a lot of the foundational things that Binns wants us to reference,” you remind him. “You know your history much better than I do, and I need to bump my ‘Acceptable’ up to ‘Exceeds Expectations’ by the time N.E.W.T.s roll around.”

“Love, I would’ve done them for you anyway,” Sebastian says dismissively, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning at the nickname. “Pick something fun.”

“Fine,” you reply. “I want…”

You consider your options for a moment, trying to think of something that isn’t either obscene or pathetic. Finally, you have an idea.

“There is one thing I’ve been thinking about,” you tell him, a secret smile on your lips.

Sebastian perks up, leaning in closer. “Go on then.”

“I want you to help me set up Anne and Ominis,” you say carefully, watching him for any signs that he’s about to blow up.

He just blinks at you, bewildered. “What.”

“I think they would be a lovely couple,” you croon. “And I know she’s your sister and you’re, y’know...”

“I’m what?” he demands.

“You’re very protective of her,” you say tactfully. “But we’re all adults now, and I think they really understand each other. I want you to help me convince them that they should give it a chance.”

Sebastian is quiet for several long moments.

“Well,” he finally murmurs. “I would prefer it if Anne never dated anyone so I wouldn’t have any more reasons to worry about her, but I suppose if she must, Ominis is a good man.”

You shout excitedly and wrap your arms around his impossibly broad shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. He easily allows it, fondly pressing his nose to your hair.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, since you won’t win and I’ll never have to aid you in your scheming,” he murmurs against your temple.

“Speaking of which,” you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. “What prize will you not be winning?”

Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, “I have something in mind.”

You force yourself not to get distracted. “Do tell.”

“If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game,” he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

“O-oh?” you ask softly, squirming a little in his grasp. “Just me?”

“Just you,” he confirms.

His eyes are dark, and despite the cacophony of the room around you both, he’s focused solely on you.

“And what would we be doing in the Room of Requirement?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t even dignify your question with a response. Instead, he deliberately drags his thumbs across your hips, raking his gaze down your body and back up with a pointed look.

“You mean it?” you ask him quietly. “You aren’t just teasing like earlier?”

“When was I teasing?” Sebastian asks, amused.

“This whole time,” you insist, fidgeting nervously with the laces at the front of his Quidditch shirt. “All the flirting, all this back-and-forth… You’re just winding me up.”

“I’m not,” he says quietly. “I thought about you all summer, love. I missed you like mad, and I sincerely want you.”

Merlin.

Some bold part of you steps a little closer so you can lean in close to his ear and ask, “Are you sure we shouldn’t just go to the Room of Requirement right now?”

You hear Sebastian swallow and exhale sharply.

“N-not now,” he answers. “After the match. I just…”

He doesn’t really have the words to articulate it, but he wants to earn your affection. He has to prove he’s good enough first, that you aren’t making a mistake by letting him finally force your close friendship into something more.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, gently brushing your lips against his cheekbone. “Just don’t get too distracted and fall off your broom, because I actually want you to win.”

“The match or the bet?” he asks in a low voice.

You just take a step back with a teasing grin, and before you disappear into the crowd to find your friends, you murmur, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sallow.”

—

It’s so many flights of stairs up to the Room of Requirement. You almost feel bad for Sebastian, but not enough to stop relentlessly tugging him up countless flights in the quiet Astronomy Tower.

He must be exhausted already, you assume. While the match itself had only lasted twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds, he spent nearly all of them racing around the pitch alongside Ravenclaw’s Seeker, eyes trained on any flash of light that shimmered like gold.

He’d even taken a Bludger to his right thigh. You’d felt like you were going to be sick just watching it collide with him, but he’d merely dropped a few feet with a wince and sped off again.

Not even a damn Bludger could knock him off his broom.

(As soon as your nausea had dissipated, you’d felt another dizzying wave of sensation take over slightly south of your stomach.)

Just as he’d promised, he quickly caught up with the Snitch near the base of the Hufflepuff student section, landing not-so-neatly in the muddy grass with one arm thrown up in the air. He was evidently clutching the struggling Snitch and beaming so hugely you could see it from your spot in the stands fifty feet in the air.

As soon as Madam Kogawa blew her whistle, the Slytherins had begun to move en masse toward the stairs, preparing to turn their common room into the official site of the year’s first not-so-clandestine party.

You, however, snuck away from the group and lingered outside the team’s changing area. Inside, you could hear raised voices.

“Imelda, you don’t understand,” Sebastian was whining. “I need to go now.”

“There’s a way we do things here, Sallow,” she had argued “I’m the captain, and if I say we’re going to discuss the game before anyone leaves, you stay.”

Sebastian had a few choice words to say to that but ultimately relented, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly while you leaned against one of the canvas walls that lined the interior channels of the pitch. Ultimately, it only took about ten minutes to discuss how everyone could improve – and Imelda’s only suggestion for Sebastian had been to try to find a dryer patch of grass on which to land next time.

Seconds later, he’d burst through the door and started to take off toward the castle.

“Bash!” you called out. “Not so fast.”

When he turned and spotted you, his face lit up.

“You waited for me,” he breathed.

“Of course I did,” you said. “I believe you’ve won a prize, and the nature of it is time-sensitive.”

He looked like an utter rake with that crooked smile on his lips. He was still in his uniform head to toe, his hair even messier than usual thanks to his helmet. He’d even kept his pads on, so when he reached out to take your hand, you felt impossibly small next to him.

“Shall we?” he asks, and then the two of you were off.

By the time you reach the Room and ensure no house elves are present, you’re both out of breath and panting.

“Come here,” you whine, throwing your arms around his shoulders and messily kissing along his jawline.

“W-wait,” he stammers. “Let me get these pads off, and–”

He cuts himself off, making a face.

“I need to clean up,” he tells you, suddenly self-conscious. “I must look like hell.”

“You look obscene,” you reply, dragging your hands down his chest pads. “Which is obviously a compliment.”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to stop you from attempting to undo the laces at the front of his trousers. “Just – just let me clean off first, the prefects’ bathroom isn’t far and I got the password off of Weasley.”

“No, don’t leave,” you whine, and Sebastian is merely a man, he can’t resist the girl he’s been in love with for years when she’s begging him to take his pants off.

“I must smell foul,” he laughs. “You’re – you’re seriously okay with this?”

“Look where we are, Sebastian,” you croon, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. “Just imagine what you need.”

For your part, you imagine a plush armchair where you can wrangle Sebastian into finally taking a seat, and one quickly spins to life just behind him. You take advantage of his distraction to shove him backwards toward it and climb astride lap.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” you tease him, straddling his thighs and dragging your nose along his cheek so he’ll tip his head back for you. “If you require something, the Room provides.”

“I require a bath,” he drawls, cursing quietly when you gently bite just over his pulse point. “Quickly, please, Room.”

Sebastian waits patiently while you eagerly strip him of his pads, but the Room doesn’t change.

“I thought you said you’ve taken baths here,” he points out skeptically. “In a huge basin, like the prefects have.”

“I have,” you insist, frowning. “I don’t know why it’s not…”

Then you trail off, your realization making you go red.

“Go on, love,” Sebastian murmurs, sliding a hand up the back of your thigh to lazily palm at your ass underneath your skirt. “I know that face, you’ve figured it out. What’s the problem?”

“W-well, it’s my Room,” you tell him sheepishly. “So it, um… I suppose it defaults to what I require.”

“And what you require,” Sebastian says slowly, “is for me to not take a bath?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“I… I suppose the Room must have deduced that I – I like you like this,” you whisper, dragging your hands across his rumpled Quidditch shirt. “And I don’t need to wait for you to clean off.”

“You don’t?” Sebastian asks, his eyes now impossibly dark. “You’d let me touch you just like this? I’m a mess, I’m covered in sweat and mud and probably some blood, even.”

“Don’t care,” you breathe, sliding your hands underneath the hem of his shirt. “I want you now, Sebastian, exactly like this.”

He says some absolutely filthy words under his breath, sitting back so he can strip off his filthy uniform shirt. You can’t get your hands on his body fast enough, hurriedly familiarizing yourself with his sculpted core, broad chest, and strong shoulders.

He’s less of a mess underneath where his shirt had lain, but his skin is still warm and damp with sweat from the match. You want to put your mouth all over him, everywhere – and there’s so much of him to explore.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you like this,” you confess to him. “You’ve gotten bigger since last spring, and so handsome… how did you become a man in just one summer?”

“You think I’m the only one who changed this summer?” he asks with a low voice. “Look at you.”

“What about me?” you ask dumbly.

His hands go straight for your chest, roughly tugging open your uniform shirt with no regard for the longevity of its buttons.

“Here,” he murmurs, his hands cupping your breasts through your thin brassiere. “I can assure you that I noticed where you’ve grown bigger.”

You gasp softly as he tugs down on the cups of your bra until he can lean in and press his mouth to your skin, sucking on one of your nipples and then the other.

“And here,” he murmurs into your chest, his hands returning to the backs of your thighs and sliding up your ass. “You have all these curves now, love, and they’re driving me mad.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper. “Take off my clothes.”

He helps you wrestle your skirt up over your head and tosses it recklessly as far as he can. When you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, Sebastian wraps one strong arm around your lower back and hooks the other below your hips, easily standing up from the armchair to walk you over to the bed you’d hastily imagined into existence.

Once he has you on your back, he tugs down your last remaining garment and leaves you bare and exposed to him, breathless and flushed all over.

“Your turn,” you remind him, even though part of you wishes he could leave the uniform pants on (despite the impracticality).

Once he manages to peel off the last of his clothes, he settles on his knees between your legs and skims a hand up your body, from the curve of your hip all the way up to your cheek.

“Is this too fast?” he asks you softly. “Did I ask too much?”

Your heart aches. Sebastian always stuns you with his sincerity when you least expect it.

You turn your head to kiss his palm and murmur, “No, love.”

His shoulders drop a little, the last of the tension he’d been carrying all week draining from his body. He wants, he always wants so damn badly and he would never forgive himself if he marred your first time with each other by rushing you.

“Can I touch you?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Please,” you whine, letting your knees fall wide.

(Whether or not the other has ever done this before is still a mystery to you both, and it’s not something you’ll discuss until afterward. But right now, it’s of no importance to you.)

For a while, Sebastian’s hands roam your body without an agenda, acquainting himself with your breasts, your hips, the insides of your thighs. You moan softly when he drags his thumb along your slit, spreading your wetness around until he can easily rub slow circles over your clit.

“How do you feel?” he asks you.

“Good,” you gasp. “So good, Sebastian, like that.”

“Do you want more?” he offers, and you frantically nod, one of your hands fisting the pillow behind your head.

He carefully presses one long finger inside you, glancing between your face and your entrance to make sure you’re comfortable the entire time. One finger quickly becomes two, and when two nearly becomes three, you have to pause and take a breath.

“Enough,” you pant. “That’s enough.”

“Are you sure?” he asks you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving him a few slow strokes while he leaks precum onto your hand and groans helplessly.

“I want you,” you insist. “I’ve wanted you.”

“R-right, yeah,” he agrees, trying to clear his head and focus on the task at hand. “Enough.”

He gently nudges your hand away so he can guide himself inside you, one hand wrapped around himself and the other gently pressing on your inner thigh to keep you still for him.

Underneath Sebastian like this, pinned to the mattress by his hips and hands, he completely overtakes your senses. He’s all you can see, all you can touch — you even taste and smell him.

Masculine sweat. Dark brown eyes. Crisp autumn air. The curve of his collarbone where it meets his shoulder. Woodsmoke. A million tiny freckles. Metallic blood from a split lip. Flashes of copper in his messy curls. Singed pine needles.

Sebastian groans low in his throat as he presses in, his hair falling into his eyes before he frantically brushes it away so he can see you take him for the first time.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he bends down and presses his forehead against yours.

“Tell me,” he begs, his hand curling gently around the back of your neck to hold you close.

“Tell you what?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his with every syllable.

“Tell me that it feels like this for you,” he practically breathes into you. “It feels like you’re — you’re everywhere, like you’re all there is.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper, and his hips snap against yours.

“Say it,” he growls. “Please.”

“You’re all there is,” you gasp. “You’re all mine, Bash.”

He makes a sound like you’ve sucker-punched him, messily kissing wherever he can get his mouth on you – your cheek, your jaw, your lips. All the while he’s fucking you open with relentless, eager thrusts.

He’s not going to last long, but you don’t expect him to. You just want him to feel good – the two of you have already wasted enough time not doing this, so why delay satisfaction?

You wrap your legs around his hips to hold him against you, rocking your own hips upward to meet him and coax him closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come,” he grits out, grinding into you desperately the closer he gets to his climax. “Can I finish inside?”

“N-no,” you whimper. There’s a potion you can drink to make it safe that takes an entire week to brew, and the batch that’s currently bubbling away at your potions station across the Room isn’t quite ready yet.

“Where?” he begs.

“Anywhere else, wherever you want,” you promise him, your mind quickly tossing out mental images of him spilling himself across your breasts, into your mouth, on the curve of your back.

He pulls out of you with a reluctant moan and kneels between your open thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock to finish himself off. You watch his eyes while he takes you in, seemingly torn between meeting your gaze and staring transfixed at your fingers between your thighs as you get closer to finishing yourself.

“Next time, love,” you murmur softly. “The next time you fuck me you can finish in me, I’ll take it all.”

“Promise?” he asks breathlessly, still an incorrigible flirt even when he’s seconds away from his orgasm.

“Promise,” you whine, spreading your legs a little wider when you catch his gaze lingering again.

You’re so close, desperately rolling your hips against your own hand until you tip over the edge, the rush of your release arching your back before you collapse lazily against the bed.

He shuffles forward and groans your name just before he spills, leaving a warm, wet mess all over your stomach and between your hips. You feel properly claimed – especially when he flops down next to you and immediately tugs you against his chest, unbothered by his release smearing between your bodies.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes into your hair. “Merlin, I love you.”

“You love me?” you whisper against his collarbone.

“Enduringly,” he says.

You rest your cheek against his chest and listen to his racing heartbeat for a few moments before you tell him, “I love you too, you know.”

Just then, the Room starts to rumble.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asks, urgently peering around for his wand.

He quickly settles and even laughs under his breath when he sees the Room shifting around the two of you to provide a spacious, sunken bathtub in the middle of the room, complete with a luxurious amount of taps that undoubtedly offer an array of bubbles, salts and soaps.

“Oh, now you want to let me clean myself up?” Sebastian drawls. “After you’ve completely worn me out, hmm?”

“It’s more for me,” you giggle. “I can’t possibly sleep like this, but you’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

As if Sebastian would ever pass up the chance to feel you up in the water.