#hl sebastian

[whizzing-fizzbee]

The Pact

Sebastian Sallow x Female reader (MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: friends to lovers, marriage pact, unspoken feelings, fluff, smut Word count: 6,429 Summary: You and your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, made a pact on your 18th birthday: the two of you would get married if you were both single at age 25. Now it's your 25th birthday and neither of you have a spouse.

Notes: Would like to note that under no circumstances do I believe that anyone living in the modern age of 2024 should have a marriage pact at age 25. But times and life expectancies were different back in the good ol' Hogwarts Legacy days, which is why I chose 25 for these two.

Part I is fluffy. Part II gets smutty. Both are on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: The Pact

Sebastian Sallow glanced at his pocket watch. It was five after 7 p.m., and it wasn’t like you to be late. Most times, you were annoyingly punctual, if not fifteen minutes early.

Sebastian exhaled slowly and audibly, fidgeting in his seat as his eyes scanned the view outside the window for your familiar face. His fingers drummed anxiously atop the white tablecloth.

The bistro was a bit fancier than he preferred, but he wanted to do something nice for you. For all you cared, the two of you would eat cold sandwiches from a picnic basket somewhere quiet and secluded, but you agreed to meet him here for a change of pace. After all, it was a special occasion. It was your 25th birthday.

Your mirror was the reason you were late. You couldn’t tear yourself away from it, your gaze scrutinizing every miniscule detail of your reflection. Was your makeup too much? Was your hairstyle too simple? Did the dress you picked suit you? Were you trying too hard? Would Sebastian even notice?

Realizing you were going to be late, you took a deep breath, willing the air to somehow inflate your nerves and give you the confidence to survive the evening.

When you arrived at the restaurant an uncharacteristic twelve minutes late, you found Sebastian seated by the window, rifling through the day’s Daily Prophet.

“There you are,” you said cheerily, hoping your makeup hadn’t smeared and your hair was still in place after your apparition. It was a common greeting between the two of you, dating back to your Hogwarts days.

“There you are,” Sebastian replied per usual, folding the crinkled newspaper as he met your gaze. You could feel it sweeping over you as he took in your appearance. “You look stunning.”

Suddenly, you felt foolish for wearing blush. Sebastian’s compliments were more than enough to bring a tinge of rosy color to your cheeks.

“You look nice, too,” you answered as you eyed his outfit. Sebastian had become a sharp dresser over the years. Tonight, he wore a sleek pair of trousers that matched his vest, buttoned over a fresh white shirt and tie, though his hair maintained its signature tousled look.

Nice was the understatement of the century. Sebastian looked positively, devilishly handsome. Of course, he could wear a burlap sack and you’d find him attractive. You’d been a sucker for that boy’s freckles and brown eyes since you were fifteen.

But Sebastian’s boyish features faded a few years ago, his once round face morphing into a man’s. It had sharpened, becoming more defined with stubble that surfaced over his jawline if it went too long without a razorblade. He was clean-shaven tonight, though. You could smell his aftershave, an indication he had shaved just for you, or so you wanted to believe.

“Here, sit,” he said, rising to his feet to pull your chair out. He loomed over you now, his frame having reached at least six feet years ago.

You smoothed your dress out as you sat and Sebastian returned to his own chair, brandishing a bouquet of flowers he had brought for you. 

“For you,” he said simply.

You smiled at the vibrant bouquet, pausing to smell it before placing it delicately on the table.

“Thank you,” you said, offering him a smile. He gazed at you quietly for a split second and it made you want to squirm in your seat.

Instead, you shot him an inquisitive look, challenging him to speak, and in return, he flashed his signature smirk.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretching beneath the table and his eyes still lingering on you. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you said, crossing and uncrossing your legs. You shifted, tucking one leg behind the other as you willed yourself to remain poised.

You wondered if he was going to broach the subject, the topic that loomed over both of your heads. You hadn’t spoken of it in five years, and you weren’t certain Sebastian even remembered.

But you thought of it constantly, its weight omnipresent in your life and your choices, nagging every “What if?” in the back of your mind.

It began when you turned eighteen. You and Sebastian spent your birthday getting piss-drunk at the Three Broomsticks with a few of your friends. Once everyone else had returned to Hogwarts for the night, you and Sebastian remained seated at a tiny table by the pub’s fireplace, your drunken antics leaving you warm and giggly.

“I can’t believe we’re adults now,” you marveled after you lost count of how many shots of firewhiskey you had consumed.  

“Eighteen with our futures ahead of us and the world at our hands,” Sebastian declared dramatically, raising his glass to you. Before you could toast, he tipped back the drink and grinned at you.

“The future is so daunting,” you said, your tone turning serious as the liquor started to stir up your insecurities. “What if I can’t find a job, Seb?”

“You’ve had the Ministry eyeing you for its auror academy for months now,” Sebastian said. “You’re a shoo-in to become the best damn auror the wizarding world has ever seen.”

“But what if I’m no good at it?”

“You’re joking, right?” Sebastian snorted. “You literally saved wizardkind from a goblin rebellion. You take down poachers and Ashwinders on a regular basis. Plus you manage to keep Leander Prewett at bay, despite all of his abhorrent advances.”

“What if I don’t find someone who’ll want to marry me?”

“Then I suppose Prewett will have to do.”

“Sebastian!”

“Relax, I was only joking,” Sebastian chuckled. “What makes you think no one will marry you? You have half the boys in our year positively drooling over you and tripping over their own feet for your attention. And besides, you don’t need to get married to have a fulfilling life. You’re incredible on your own.”

“But I want to share my life with someone.”

Sebastian blinked at you. “I didn’t realize you were such a hopeless romantic,” he mused.

You shrugged, your eyes glassy from your drunken haze. “I just think love could be a beautiful thing, you know? And what about a family? I want a family of my own.”

Sebastian hummed in agreement, falling uncommonly quiet. “You’ll find love,” he finally said, his gaze resting beyond you, at something that didn’t exist over your shoulder. 

“But what if I don’t?” you whined, the alcohol replacing your usual composed demeanor with something far less sophisticated.

“You will,” Sebastian said confidently, his gaze returning to you with amusement. He studied you, his smirk softening as he recognized the concern in your eyes. “Tell you what,” he continued, leaning forward to emphasize his seriousness. “How about you and I make a pact? If neither of us is married by the time we’re both 25, we’ll get married to each other.”

It was your turn to blink at him as you processed his proposal. It wasn’t quite the marriage proposal you wanted from him, but it was likely the closest you’d get, at least from Sebastian.

“Really?” you asked stupidly.

“Sure,” Sebastian answered assuredly. “Why not? I doubt it’ll come to fruition considering what I said about all the potential suitors you already have, but it’d be good to have a back-up plan just in case. And despite your best dramatics, I know you don’t despise me as much as you pretend. Growing old with me wouldn’t be that bad, would it?”

Of course it wouldn’t. It was all you really wanted. But you didn’t want to be Sebastian’s back-up plan. You wanted to be his first and foremost plan, his top choice, his only consideration for a wife. 

But you didn’t dare share that detail with him. He was your best friend, your confidant, your kindred spirit. The two of you had been through so much together; the trauma, the laughs, the adventure – it was too much history to risk with romance. 

So instead of making any romantic proclamations, you kept your cool and merely shrugged. “All right,” you agreed. “You and I, married after 25.”

The two of you shook hands and laughed about the frivolity of your new vow. After that night, you only brought it up a few times on rare occasion, like on your birthday or after one of you endured a particularly nasty breakup with a romantic partner.

”Well, I suppose there’s always our pact,” Sebastian once told you after you and Amit Thakkar broke up the summer after you graduated Hogwarts. You sighed that time, saddened by your failed relationship, yet hopeful for the notion that you and Sebastian could still someday end up together.

But that was just a silly, drunken agreement with no real weight to it, right?

The last time the pact had been mentioned was your 20th birthday, which was dampened by another breakup, this time with a man named Maximilian Flint. He was a professional quidditch player on the Appleby Arrows’ reserve team roster. 

The two of you met at a Christmas party and hit it off, but distance quickly made it clear that you weren’t meant to last. You were living in London, traveling on occasion for work. Maximilian, Max as you called him, was always traveling with the team. So your relationship was short-lived, leaving Sebastian to remind you of your agreement again. But that was the final time he brought it up.  

Meanwhile, Sebastian seemed unbothered by expectations of marriage. You watched as he kept his connections much more casual, dating different women with no real romantic intent. You couldn’t help but wonder if Sebastian simply had no desire to ever get married, making your pact void of any real potential.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t had any more suitors since then. Adulthood had served you well, your body filling out nicely in your early twenties. You certainly weren’t starved for attention from men and had your fair share of dates, but even the most charming bachelors fell short.

It wasn’t them, it was you. Or maybe it was Sebastian.

Every time you found yourself in the arms of a new man, a potential husband who would be willing to love and care for you, your mind wandered to that stupid pact. You couldn’t help but romanticize it as if it were reality — you and Sebastian, happily ever after. Your daydreams drew you downward to dangerous depths where you envisioned a cozy home the two of you shared. He’d help you cook dinner before you both tucked your children in bed so that you could enjoy each other’s company privately.

It was a maddening fantasy that had managed to sabotage all of your romantic prospects, but you couldn’t help it. No man compared to Sebastian, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself otherwise, and no matter how often you reminded yourself that the two of you were merely meant to be best friends.

Now, the two of you were seated at that bistro table five years later, still without spouses.

”You didn’t have to take me to such a nice place,” you said as a waiter served you champagne.

Sebastian flashed a grin and raised his glass to you, igniting a sense of deja vu that pulled you back to that night at the Three Broomsticks seven years ago. 

“It’s not everyday my favorite person turns 25,” he noted. You clinked your glass against his and drank, savoring the champagne’s sweetness. You wondered how much of it you could have before you were drunk enough to forget about the stupid pact. The answer, sadly, was unsurmountable.

Instead, you did your best to enjoy your meal and Sebastian’s company. You swapped work stories, Sebastian telling you of his latest curse breaking endeavors while you recounted a recent arrest during your work as an auror. 

When you thought your dinner was complete, Sebastian sat back and smirked over your shoulder. You frowned, turning to see what had stolen his attention when you spotted your waiter approaching with a small birthday cake.

”Sebastian,” you hissed as the cake was placed in front of you, its frosted letters spelling out Happy Birthday in purple cursive. “You didn’t need to do that.”

”Don’t be ridiculous,” Sebastian said, leaning over the table with his fork to steal a bite of cake. “You deserve a nice birthday.”

You smiled at him before taking a bite, enjoying the cake's sweetness until you noticed Sebastian watching you.

”You have icing on your lip,” he noted with a smirk.

Before you could reach for the napkin in your lap, Sebastian was reaching across the table again. He swiped at the rogue icing with his thumb before he relaxed back into his seat, licking his thumb clean.

You had to sit on your hands to keep from fidgeting too much.

Once Sebastian paid the bill, he became quiet, his eyes drifting toward the window as the two of you watched the passerby in comfortable silence. A young couple passed, holding hands and laughing, a sight that made you long for your own companionship.

It was sitting three feet away from you, but you didn’t realize how it was sneaking glances at you.

”So,” Sebastian finally said as he tossed his napkin on the table. “Ready for our next stop?”

”Next stop?” you repeated blankly.

Sebastian rose to his feet, his tall frame drawing the attention of other women in the room. You wanted to throw the remnants of your water goblet on them, but Sebastian extended a hand to you.

”Yes, doll, our next stop,” he said as you stood. His eyes gleamed and you prayed you wouldn’t lose your composure — not now, not when you’d nearly made it through the night. Or so you thought.

”Seb, you don’t have to-”

”Nothing but best for my lady.”

You were certain you were going to pass out right there in the middle of that quaint bistro. Instead, Sebastian led you outside into the cool night air.

”And just where are you taking me?” you demanded. “If we’re heading to your flat, I hope you took care of that niffler in the closet-”

”Eager to head back to my place already?” Sebastian teased.

You tripped over your own feet. Luckily, Sebastian still had a hold on you. He failed to conceal a laugh as he steadied you, clearly enjoying your frazzled state.

”If you must know,” Sebastian continued as he steered you toward a vacant ally, “We’re off to the Three Broomsticks.”

”The Three Broomsticks?” you laughed. “Why? We haven’t been there in years. We aren’t students anymore.”

Sebastian took hold of your arm and offered a grin. “Just thought we’d head there for old time’s sake. I’m feeling rather nostalgic tonight, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t decide if the lurch in your stomach was from your nerves or from Sebastian’s apparition. 

When you landed, the familiar smell of aged wood and butterbeer greeted you. 

“Come, sit,” Sebastian said with a gentle tug on your arm. You swallowed as you realized he was leading you to that same tiny table in the corner, near the fireplace. You took the same seat you’d held before, seven years ago, as Sebastian retreated to the bar to fetch your drinks. When he returned, he set a small glass down and grinned at you.

Firewhiskey.

”Sebastian,” you started as you eyed the liquid warily. “This is a bad idea.”

”Exactly.” You couldn’t help but snort as Sebastian lifted his own glass. “Cheers,” he continued as you clinked your glasses for the second time that night. “To old times and to our future.”

You nearly choked at his words. Our future? Was he referring to your pact? 

You downed your drink swiftly and made a face, evoking another laugh from Sebastian. He took the stool across from you and grinned.

”Are you trying to get me drunk again?” you accused.

”Of course not,” Sebastian answered. “I’m merely recreating old memories. Though you were certainly capable of drinking more back when you turned 18.”

“I had far fewer responsibilities when I was 18,” you pointed out. Sebastian hummed in response before another silence settled between you.

You wanted to bring it up. You wanted to mention it, even if it was just in jest. ‘Hey, remember that ridiculous pact we made?’ you could laugh. But instead, you remained quiet, the low hum of the conversations of other patrons inside the pub filling the space between you and Sebastian.

”So, how’s it feel being 25?” Sebastian finally asked. There was something about his gaze that unsettled you. He wasn’t looking at you with his trademark smirk or the glint of mischief that typically hid in his eyes, only detectable by those who really knew him.

“It feels… exactly the same as 24,” you laughed.

Sebastian nodded in understanding. “It’s rather anticlimactic, isn’t it?” he mused.

”That, it is.”

Sebastian smiled but you couldn't help but narrow your eyes at him. “If 25 feels the same as any other year, why have you gone out of your way to make tonight special for me?” you asked.

Sebastian shrugged, the gleam of the nearby fireplace flickering over his features. “Because your 25 is special,” he answered. “Now we’re both 25.”

You couldn’t form words. Your usual sharp wit and clever quips had abandoned you. Sebastian eyed you patiently, as if you contained some kind of answer to a riddle.

”Do you remember?” Sebastian continued. “The pact we made when we were 18?”

You were certain he could hear the way your heart seemed to be pounding in your skull, rattling your brain and leaving you void of any coherence.

”I do,” you managed.

”Well, we’re both 25 now.”

”We are.”

Sebastian was still studying you with patience, a jarring contrast from his usual unrest.

”Well, do you think you want to go through with it — the pact?”

”Huh?” You had never sounded so stupid in your life and it was starting to scare you. Sebastian also seemed slightly alarmed by your sudden stupor, because he leaned in closer.

”Look,” he said, his eyes searching you with a quiet desperation to be taken seriously. “I know it was just a stupid thing we said when we were young and drunk. But that doesn’t mean that it was irrelevant, at least not to me. I actually meant it. The offer still stands.” He paused to study your expression, as if to ensure you weren’t laughing at him or appalled by the topic. “But I also understand if you weren’t serious about it. It’s not like you don’t have a line of dates waiting to take you out, if you even want to be married, that is.”

”And what about you?” you managed, your voice much pitchier than usual. “You bring a different girl home every week.”

Sebastian appeared taken aback by such a harsh accusation. “Every week is quite an exaggeration,” he mumbled, his gaze falling to the tabletop as if he were ashamed. It made you feel horrible for passing judgment on your best friend. “But you’re right, I haven’t had many serious relationships. I guess I haven’t wanted any.”

”But you want to get married?” you asked incredulously.

”You didn’t let me finish,” Sebastian replied gently. His eyes drifted upward again to meet yours, softening your own gaze. “I haven’t wanted any serious relationships beyond the one I have with you.”

”But we’re-”

”Friends, I know,” Sebastian finished. “But I don’t want that to be the case. I want more.”

His words seemed to linger in the air above you, their weight threatening to crush you with a pastiche of emotions. They hovered, waiting for your response while Sebastian held his breath.

“How long have you wanted to be more than friends?” you finally asked. You silently scolded yourself for asking such a mundane question when you should be yanking Sebastian by the tie into the best kiss of his life.

“Since the day we became friends,” he answered.

The impact of his honesty made you inhale sharply, but the air didn’t seem to reach your lungs. 

”All this time?”

”Of course.”

Your head spun with a thousand more questions, each one overtaking the next as you tried to make sense of Sebastian’s confession. You couldn’t decide which emotion was the most prominent — the surprise, the elation, or the anger that the two of you had withheld yourselves from each other all along.

”Why did you make that pact then?” you finally asked. “Why didn’t you just tell me, then and there, that night seven years ago?”

”Because your future was just beginning,” Sebastian answered. “You had so much life to explore and I was just the moron who made a mess of what little family he had left. I was still figuring things out, and even though I knew I loved you, I didn’t think it was fair to hold you back from the life you deserved.”

“I deserved the truth, Sebastian,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a juxtaposition of hurt and happy. “I deserved to spend the past seven years with someone who made me happy.”

The revelation settled over Sebastian, who became still. He looked dumbfounded, and if you weren’t about to spill your best-kept secret, you probably would have teased him.

“You mean you actually wanted to be with me?”

”Don’t be so dense,” you breathed with a soft laugh. “Of course I did. Sebastian, you’ve met some of the men I’ve dated. None of them are like you.”

”I thought that was by design.”

”As utterly exhausting as you are, you’re the only person I’ve ever deemed worth my time and energy,” you said. “I wouldn’t have agreed to that stupid pact if I’d known it wasn’t the only chance I’d have at being with you.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to sort through his racing thoughts, but you were growing impatient. You didn’t even realize you were standing now, anxious to find out where the rest of your life was now headed, now that you and the only man you’d ever loved had just admitted you wasted the past ten years pining after one another.

”So all this time, we could have… just been together?” Sebastian said.

”Apparently.”

”Are we stupid?”

”Apparently. Did you plan this evening with hopes I’d agree to carry out the pact?” you asked.

”I mean, I thought there might be a chance,” Sebastian admitted. “I was fully prepared to make a case for myself.”

It was the tipping point. The strange scene, nostalgic yet new, would become the pivotal moment in your timeline when Sebastian Sallow would no longer be your best friend. It was exhilarating and terrifying, comforting and confusing, a perfect reflection of who you and Sebastian were as humans and as a pair.

Sebastian was still looking stunned as you finally came to your senses. 

“So can we continue to our next stop?” you asked.

Sebastian was confused, but rose to his feet when he realized you were preparing to leave the pub. “Next stop? Where’s that?”

”Depends,” you answered. “Did you get that niffler out of your flat?”

Part II: The Vow

The floating candles were fading, the last remaining drips of wax fighting to keep their flames alive. The music dipped to a low hum as the live band prepared to end its performance for the night.

The remaining guests bid their farewells with cheerful laughter and hugs, offering well wishes to you and your groom while you watched them leave with sadness.

You didn’t want the night to end — or so you thought.

But your sad goodbyes were quickly replaced with anticipation as you could feel your husband snaking his arms around your waist.

Your husband. The very word made you swell with pride. You waited over ten years for this moment and couldn’t believe it was a reality. Ten years of patiently waiting for that freckled brown-eyed boy to realize how much you loved him. Ten years of putting up with his chaos, of keeping his darkest secrets, all because you saw beyond his mistakes. Ten years of hoping and praying that boy would turn into a man who would return the unconditional love you carried for him since the day you dueled in Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Ten years of waiting on Sebastian Sallow to kindly remove his head from the sand and make you his wife.

Mission accomplished.

”That’s everyone,” Sebastian murmured in your ear. “The last of the guests. Just you and me now.”

”Thank heavens,” you hissed, wincing as you shifted your weight. “These shoes are killing me.”

”Let’s get you home so you can take them off,” Sebastian mumbled against the back of your neck, his lips pressing a series of kisses there. “That dress needs to come off, too.”

The wedding had been perfect. It was a beautiful garden display with your closest friends and family, all who sighed in relief that the the two people involved had finally squashed their stubborn resistance and ended up together.

”I was really starting to get worried you were going to end up with that bloke from the Ministry,” Ominis Gaunt told you. “The one with the hideous outfits.”

”And I was worried Sebastian was going to be a bachelor forever,” Anne Sallow added. “If I can’t have kids of my own, I’d at least like to be an aunt.”

Ten months ago, you and Sebastian finally figured it out. The two of you had spent the ten years you’d known each other waiting on the other person to say something, anything, to ensure that the feelings weren’t one-sided. 

That stupid marriage-after-25 pact you made was upheld though, even if it had become less of a pact and more of an absolution as a result of a decade of unspoken words and mutual pining.

”Finally,” Sebastian declared once he’d apparated the two of you home to your shared townhouse in London.

Though you had wasted ten years waiting on another to begin your relationship, you and Sebastian wasted no time in consummating your marriage.

Actually, you’d spent the past ten months making up for lost time and, “It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten pregnant yet,” as Anne so bluntly stated.

This night was no different.

Sebastian hooked an arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss, his hands roaming from your sides to reach for the back of your dress.

”You looked beautiful tonight,” he told you for the hundredth time. You knew his words were sincere though, given the way Sebastian’s eyes had devoured you the entire evening, waiting impatiently to see beneath the dress you had only picked knowing damn well he’d be dying to remove it.

A sharp tug at the ribbons of the corset that laced up the back of your dress loosened the bodice, causing you to spill from it, exposing your bare chest.

Sebastian flashed his canines. 

He kissed you hard, his hands tugging the dress downward in frenzied motions until you could step out of it, leaving the beautiful garment in a heap. Those frantic hands found their way back to your waist, tracing the curves that led upward to your breasts.

Your breath caught as Sebastian kissed your neck, his own breath hot against your skin, trailing along your collarbone in a desperate attempt to put his mouth on every inch of you that he could manage.

Sebastian was far too overdressed for your liking, so you tugged at his tie, pulling him in to meet your lips before you helped him loosen the fabric. By the time the silky accessory slipped to the floor, you were working on the buttons at the front of Sebastian’s shirt, thoroughly annoyed that there seemed to be so damn many of them.

Three buttons in, you huffed your aggravation and Sebastian barked a laugh. “Go on, love,” he said. “It’s just a shirt.”

You weren’t seeking his permission, but his blessing was all the encouragement you needed to tear the shirt open. Its buttons popped and sailed across the room, scattering over the floor to be fetched another day.

Sebastian’s shirt sank to the floor and you practically dove for his belt buckle while he gazed downward in pure elation stoked by your eager actions. You didn’t care. Now was not the time for poise and composure. You’d spent the entire day indulging propriety, performing your part as the perfect blushing bride.

Now, you were ready for your role as Sebastian’s real wife.

You removed his belt swiftly, his suit trousers soon joining the rest of his clothes on the floor until your own panties were the only article of clothing between you.

Sebastian took it upon himself to remove them, hooking his thumbs into the sides to tug you closer for another kiss. His tongue hinted at the things he wanted to do to you as it pushed past the threshold of your lips, his thumbs working your panties downward until they fluttered to the floor.

“You’re a fucking vision,” Sebastian breathed, his fingers reaching between your thighs to drag over your folds. 

You sighed as his fingers worked at the tension that had mounted in your core, and ground your hips impatiently against Sebastian’s palm, which was pressed against your clit. 

“So tense, you are,” Sebastian mewed, removing his hand from your body to gently suck on his fingers.

Before you could form a response, he scooped you up to carry you to the bedroom. You squealed as one arm supported your back, the other supporting your weight beneath your thighs. He smirked at you as he felt the slickness that had settled between them.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Sebastian groaned as he entered your bedroom. He tossed you on the bed and loomed over you as he decided which sinful act he wanted to perform first.

He licked his lips and reached for your ankles, tugging you toward the edge of the bed. 

“Can’t wait to see if you taste even better as my bride,” he said as he settled between your knees. He planted a trail of kisses up your thighs, over your hip bones to your bellybutton, invoking a pitiful whimper from you.

You could feel him smirk against your skin, undoubtedly planning how he could use his tongue to orchestrate your demise.    Sebastian hooked his arms around your legs, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs as he prepared himself to feast on you.

A sharp inhale passed through your lips the moment his mouth made contact with you, his tongue gliding over your folds.

”Shit,” you heard him hiss. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

His tongue darted patterns across you, dragging deep sensations below your skin. Your fingers tangled tighter in his hair as you willed your body to produce the response you were both working for.

Sebastian grunted, a telltale sign that his own needs were making him impatient. His cock stirred and he couldn’t help but grip himself as he continued to taste you.

”Oh god,” you groaned as you could feel the familiar sensation of a climax surfacing. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Sebastian would have to be hit with an Unforgivable Curse before he dared to stop. Instead, his fingertips pressed into your thighs as his tongue applied more pressure, maintaining the pace he knew you liked.

The reward of his sinful act surged forth, your body rippling with pleasure as you moaned, your fingernails digging into Sebastian’s skull at the peak of your orgasm. When it subsided, Sebastian left you panting as he straightened up, one hand still supporting his shaft.

He smirked downward at you as he admired the aftermath of his work. He always did this after such an act, his gaze gleaming with pride, lips wet, his tousled hair making him the epitome of sin incarnate.

Most times after Sebastian’s tongue had worked you into a breathless, fucked out frenzy, he was ready to seal the deal and take you until he was finished himself. Other times, you were eager to return the favor and he’d allow it if he felt he had the willpower.

So as he stood over you, his eyes drinking in the erotic vision that was his wife in a post-orgasm haze, you rolled yourself over to lie on your stomach, facing him so that he could bring himself to your waiting mouth.

You reached for him and he hissed as your fingers enclosed around him, a thumb tracing gentle circles around his tip. He twitched slightly, the sensation forcing a grunt from him.

You smirked, your eyes raised upward as they met his while you took him in your mouth, the velvet of his skin gliding against your lips.

”Fuck, I love you,” Sebastian breathed. You hummed in response, the vibration from your lips drawing a groan from Sebastian. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said as your head bobbed, your cheeks sucked inward tightly around his shaft.

His eyes roamed your form, presented in such a pretty way for him, laid out so that he could see your backside. He reached for you, gently squeezing as you focused on using your mouth.

Sebastian’s tip hit the back of your throat and he groaned at the sensation of the soft flesh. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, but he silently thanked every higher power for forgiving his past sins enough to present him with you.

”Come here,” he suddenly growled, pulling his cock from your mouth. You whined in protest but knew you were in for the ultimate honor.

Sebastian had you by the legs and rolled you to your back again, pulling you toward the edge of the bed once more. This time, he stood between your thighs, his bedroom eyes dark with desire as he held his cock in one hand, ready to take you.

When he guided himself inside you, you moaned until he was fully engulfed. Sebastian clenched his jaw at the sensation, unsure how long he would last thanks to the wetness that was already pooling around him. But he had told himself that morning, before he got to watch you saunter down the aisle to him, that he was going to do everything in his power to make you happy. And that included satiating your every need in the bedroom, until your legs shook and your voice became hoarse.

Sebastian made a silent vow to get at least two more good orgasms out of you tonight. You deserved it. You were his wife.

The room filled with the sounds of Sebastian’s body slapping against yours, a rhythmic beat punctuated with your occasional moans. Sebastian leaned forward to leave kisses on your neck, one hand cupping your breast as the other supported his weight.

”Going to come for me?” he panted.

”Yes,” you breathed. You used your own legs to lift your hips, meeting Sebastian’s in a desperate act to ensure another orgasm.

It didn’t take long to achieve your goal. Sebastian had been here before. He was familiar with your wants and needs, the rhythms you liked and the way you secretly were turned on when he whispered absolute filth in your ear.

He fucked you harder, so hard that your cunt started to spasm before your lips could form his name. You cried out so loud you were certain the neighbors would come knocking, but Sebastian would hex them if they dared to interrupt.

The bedsheets became soaked beneath you, your gasps replacing the fervid sounds of sex as you caught your breath. Sebastian, still inside you, nuzzled your neck as he allowed you to recollect yourself.

Now, it was his turn. You knew that and you wanted it. So you sat up, indicating it was time to switch places. Sebastian obliged without a word, settling onto his back as you straddled him.

Though he’d seen you in this position countless times, Sebastian never failed to admire the sight. This time, he took extra care to savor the moment that was his absolute goddess of a wife mounted on top of him.

You held your breath as you slowly lowered your hips, impaling yourself on Sebastian. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he said through gritted teeth as your cunt swallowed his shaft until your full weight had him completely inside you.

You rocked slightly, seeking the familiar friction and angle you knew would privilege you with a third orgasm if Sebastian could hold out that long. Lifting your hips and slamming back downward, you quickly found the spot, moaning Sebastian’s name to express your gratitude for his cock that seemed to be made with you in mind.

”You take me so fucking well,” Sebastian said as he watched you ride him, your hips lifting and bucking. His gaze flickered from your breasts to the spot where the two of you were connected, and he reached to press his thumb against your clit.

”Sebastian!” you wheezed as the sensation caught you off guard. You were met with a smirk, which you didn’t see because your eyes squeezed shut to focus on the absolute ecstasy forming within your core.

”You’re soaked,” you heard Sebastian say, but you chose to ignore him as you rocked backward, the tip of his cock pressing against the most sensitive part of you.

Heaven couldn’t help you in that moment, and Hell wouldn’t know what to do with you. You choked out a moan as your cunt contracted, desperate to milk out another orgasm. You could feel the tension teetering you right to the edge as your core tingled with warning.

”Fuck, Sebastian!” you gasped as you earned your final orgasm, your walls fluttering around your husband’s cock. A guttural moan escaped your lips as you rode it out, the contractions setting Sebastian’s own climax in motion.

”Fuck!” he grunted as he spilled himself inside you in quick bursts. His hands gripped your hips and his eyes were clamped shut as his body responded to the intensity. ”My god,” he managed when the feeling finally subsided, leaving you both panting.

Once you finally managed the energy to roll yourself off of him, you cuddled up to Sebastian, resting your head on his chest. Your exhaustion left you euphoric as the reality of your evening settled in. You were a wife now, and your husband was the one and only man you had ever wanted to spend these kinds of moments with.

Ten years had finally led you and Sebastian to this point, and you were so glad that stupid pact had been replaced by your vows.

[lavenderandturpentine]

Sebastian: MC is pretty sweet to hang out with. Don’t you guys agree?

Garreth: Well, she is pretty cool. Brilliant at potion making too.

Ominis: I will admit that I rather enjoy her presence.

Sebastian: Yet, it simply isn't enough to be in MC's presence, is it?

Garreth: What are you implying?

Sebastian: I need to be inside of her...

Ominis: *sighs* Sebastian…

Garreth: That’s taking it too far…

I can just imagine Gar and Omi being so over Seb’s obsession with mc 😂

Needed something to lighten the mood today. 💚🖤

[mongeesemeese]

Random bookworm seb sketchy-thing.

[jmliebert]

Sebastian Sallow as Your Husband ♡

cries when he sees you at the aisle on your wedding day

*all the guests are shocked*

always up for the kiss from you

“my wife this,” “my wife that” — he simply can’t stop talking about you

big arguments ending up with heated make-outs (always)

dangerously jealous

but when you ask, "what's wrong?" he huffs, "nothing," but his sulking say it all

when he's buried in a project, he forgets food, sleep—everything and you’re the only one who can pull him away

he’d spend his very last knut just to see his wife smile :')

when you’re away, the world feels weird. he counts the seconds until you return (ever since you met at Hogwarts, you've been inseparable, and now each moment apart feels somehow wrong for him)

confident to everyone else, but sometimes, in the quiet of night, he still whispers, “do you still love me?” just to hear you say “yes.”

if anyone crosses a line, Sebastian doesn’t hesitate. he's protective and won't let any disrespect towards you pass

unconsciously positions himself between you and any potential danger (or man), whether in crowded rooms or on the streets

always up for some spontaneous adventures, just like the ones you had at Hogwarts

to others, he’s sharp-tongued and reckless. but to you? he’s tender, vulnerable, and endlessly devoted

Sebastian declares it so often, you’d think it would lose meaning, but it never does — you changed his life

passionately devoted to you despite the years that pass—the kind of husband your female friends can’t help but envy...

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 hi, you can find more of my works about sebastian ♡here♡

[toonedupfiction]

My version of Sebastian from my fic

Legacy Disowned one Wattpad

[lamieboo]

💚 SEB vs SEB vs SEB 💚

With the release of Quidditch Champions today, let’s have a contest to see which version of Sebastian is the BEST!!!

What is this

A community event to see which is the best version of Sebastian

The Team with the most entries can claim they HAVE THE BEST HC SEB EVERRRRR

Are you:

- Team Quidditch Champ Sebastian

- Team Bookworm Sebastian

- Team Duelling Master Sebastian

Rules

QT / Reblog with a drawing of which team you belong to, and use the #SEBvsSEBvsSEB

You can draw your HC Sebastian in more than one team

Have fun and get creative with your Sebastian (What position is he in? Which is his favourite book? Draw him beating your MC? Go wild)

Deadline is 3rd October

(Maybe I’ll make a prize for the winning team but idk what to do so any suggestions would be cool)

[thecharacterchronicler]

Exams, poltergeists & supply closets (Part 1) || Sebastian Sallow x Reader || Smut

Outline: You and Sebastian decide to sneak into your professor’s office late at night but with Peeves chasing after you, you have no choice but to hide together in a tiny supply closet… One thing leading to another, you end up passing the time rather pleasantly together. But your actions may have unexpected consequences…

Word count: 3’464

Warnings: explicit smut, (accidental) pregnancy, characters aged up (20s) and probably a few mistakes here and there because English isn’t my first language.

(( Part 2 - Friends With Benefits )) - (( Part 3 - Madrakes, dusty books & an apology )) - (( Masterlist ))

It was late. Far too late to still be up and roaming the empty corridors of the castle. Sebastian knew what he risked if he got caught, he knew what you risked too but he simply didn’t see any alternative this time, it was an emergency.

“Will you tell me where we are going now ?” You asked him, walking behind him, close enough to benefit from the light of his wand, guiding his steps in the dimly lit halls.

He stopped in his tracks and you bumped into him with a thud. He turned around to look at you with a disapproving look, raising a finger to his lips to ask you to be quiet and you rolled your eyes at him. It wasn’t your fault, the least he could have done was warn you that he was going to stop so abruptly…

He froze, carefully listening to the sounds of the castle in the night, making sure no one was around to catch you breaking school rules. Again.

Once he decided that it was safe enough to continue, he started walking in direction of a wooden door you recognized with surprise.

“Mrs Weasley’s office ?” You exclaimed, as quietly as you could. “Is this how you are planning to help me out ?”

“She threatened to not let you finish the school year if you failed her preparatory exam.” Sebastian justified, reaching out to try to open the door but of course, it was locked. “What else can we do ?”

“Oh I don’t know, study maybe ? Try to keep up with homework ? Take more notes in class ? Anything but breaking into her office in the middle of the night!” You responded, scandalized that he’d take such a careless risk. Did he not realize that you both were very close to getting expelled from Hogwarts for various reasons ? Adding breaking into a professor’s office definitely wouldn’t help your case.

“I’ve heard your answers when Ominis quizzed you on the subject this evening, it was catastrophic.”

“You aren’t exactly the best at transfiguration either.” You snapped back, vexed by his remark.

“I’m good enough to not fail my exams.” He retorted, before attempting to open the door with an Alohomora spell but it remained locked, probably protected by a charm. “Crap.”

He took a closer look at the lock, looked around to both sides of the corridor to make sure that no one was in sight and took a step back, outstretching his arm to protectively guide you behind him.

“Make sure you stay behind me.” He told you, raising his wand in front of him.

“Oh no, Sebastian, don’t you dare !” You said, knowing exactly what he had in mind.

“Confringo !” He shouted and flames bursted out of his wand, crashing against the door in a thud and setting the old wood on fire.

There’s no way you wouldn’t both be expelled after this.

You watched helplessly as the door consumed itself enough to let you in and followed Sebastian inside the office with resignation. Might as well go for it now that you were here…

“Lumos.” You whispered, at the same time as he did, once inside the dark circular room that Professor Weasley used as her private office between classes. It wasn’t big but there were a lot of items around, shelves against every wall filled with books, parchments and relics. A large desk in the center of the room, with pieces of papers and files neatly piled up. Some heavy looking chests on the floor, sealed by large locks. You weren’t sure where to start. “What are we even looking for ?”

“The answers for the upcoming exam.” He replied, almost casually, as he started rummaging through the papers on the desk. “I know she keeps them somewhere around here.”

You turned to the shelf closest to you, surveying the different books lined up and taking a closer look at a strange and ancient looking relic on display. Sebastian opened each drawer of the desk one by one, shamelessly invading your professor’s privacy with a desperate expression on his face. It almost seemed like he cared about you succeeding at this preparatory exam more than you did… But why ?

You focused on your task, quickly going through the parchement papers piled up in front of you but you didn’t find anything helpful. You turned to look at him, now searching the shelf on the opposite side of the room. You could tell the more minutes went by, the more agitated he became, audibly groaning in frustration each time his rummaging proved unsuccessful.

You were about to tell him that you both should head back to your dorms, that it didn’t matter that much and most of all, he shouldn’t be breaking the rules for your sake but a commotion behind what was left of the door made you freeze in place. You exchanged an alarmed look with Sebastian as you both stayed perfectly still, listening to your surroundings.

“And what do we have here ?” Peeves’ loud voice suddenly boomed, resounding against the walls.

“Crap.” You heard Sebastian groan, letting go of what he was doing to catch your hand and pull you towards the door. “We need to go !”

You let him guide you out of the office, not even bothering to cover your tracks or repair the door you had destroyed on your way in. It was no use, now that Peeves had seen you, you were surely going to be sent to detention. Or expelled.

“I think I saw the caretaker in the hall, he’s going to catch yoOoOoOou !” Peeves shouted, his airy form following you as you both ran through the empty hallway. “Mister MoOoOoOoOoOn !”

“Shut up, Peeves !” Sebastian yelled but it was no use, the poltergeist enjoyed nothing more than to tell on your friend and see him get punished for his infractions.

You ran hand in hand under the alcoves and up a spiraling staircase, the ghost still following you with loud bursts of laughter resonating in your ears.

“Here !” Sebastian exclaimed, pulling on your hand to ensure you took the same sharp turn as him. He stopped in front of a large door you didn’t recognize and opened it with no hesitation, pushing you inside a dark and narrow supply closet before joining you there, quietly closing the door and plunging you both in total darkness.

You both held your panting breaths as the loud ghost flew by in the hallway, waiting until his voice faded to breathe again. It’s only then, in the absolute silence of the castle that you realized how close you were from each other, your body pressed against his as his warm breath softly caressed your skin.

“Do you think it’s safe to get out now ?” You asked him, your voice a whisper in the dark.

“He said Mister Moon wasn’t far, I think we should wait it out a bit longer.” He replied, his usual confidence replaced by an hesitant tone, as if being so close to you was unsettling him more than what he would have expected it to.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, outstretching your arms as far as you could to assess the space you truly disposed off. You barely had enough room to take a step forward before your body pressed against the wall but at least it put a few inches of distance between you and Sebastian. You both still were panting, the sounds of your ragged breaths filling the narrow supply closet. You could feel the warm air leaving his lips hitting against the exposed skin of your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against the cold stone wall to try to distract yourself, your mind - and body - extremely aware of the proximity of him behind you.

An echo of Peeves’ laughter resounded in the distance, making it clear that it still wasn’t safe to come out of your hideout.

“Stupid poltergeist.” Sebastian breathed, the animosity he felt towards the ghost who loved to snitch on him very audible in his tone.

You kept quiet, hoping you’d soon get an opportunity to exit the all too small closet, because your heart was racing in your chest and you couldn’t help but feel a shudder of excitement coursing through your entire body each time a part of Sebastian brushed against you, like a teenager desperate for something more. It was embarrassing.

But not as embarrassing as the thing currently poking your lower back.

It was his turn to awkwardly clear his throat, attempting to back away as far as he could but the erection that had grown into - and now outstretched - his pants still touched you.

“You know, maybe we could try to pass the time in a fun way.” He suggested, obviously deciding to own up to the situation.

“Sebastian.” You said, trying to sound scandalized by the implications of his proposition and his very noticeable arousal but it came out all wrong, more like a whispered moan and less like the patronizing sigh you were going for.

He took a step closer and you felt the full length of his cock pressing up against your back, the heat radiating from underneath the fabric of his pants piercing through your skirt to warm your own skin up. He placed a hand on your hip, careful at first, and as innocent as he could be, gently caressing its way up your waist with a slowness that made it seem like he was waiting for you to protest… But you didn’t.

Getting bolder because of your silent approbation, he snaked a hand under your skirt, caressing the bare skin of your thigh before moving to your center. You leaned back against him, your heart racing and your breathing pant up. Rationally, you knew this was very wrong, but in the darkness and the narrow space forcing you against each other, it felt so right.

“Getting caught in such a compromising position, added to sneaking out past curefew and breaking into Professor Weasley’s office will probably get us expelled, I don’t think we should risk it.” You finally managed to say, although your body was melting under his fiery touch.

“We may have broken a few rules tonight but they can’t say anything about this, we’re both adults.” He replied, his voice low against your ear, making you shiver once more.

“It’s written in the official school regulations; no intercourse or other sexual misconduct will be tolerated in the castle.” You informed him, a gasp escaping from your lips as his fingers slipped under the elastic of your panties, sliding downwards between your thighs to where you were already wet with anticipation for his touch.

“In the castle… So you’re saying we should hook up outside next time ? Like out of the astronomy tower ? Or in the gardens ? The front courtyard ? Technically we could even do it under the bleachers of the quidditch pitch...” He retorted, playfully, while his fingers applied pressure where you so desperately needed to feel it, earning a soft whimper in reaction.

He buried his face against your neck, placing a wet kiss on your pulse point as he massaged your clit with ease, tugging on your hip with his other hand to get you to grind against the impressively hard buldge in his pants.

You weren’t sure how long it lasted, nor did you remember to be quiet, shamelessly moaning as he brought a finger to your entrance and your grinding against him allowed you to control the speed and depth with which it slipped in and out of your pussy.

You enjoyed the way he breathed loudly against your neck, the tiny gasps dropping from his mouth each time the pressure you applied against his erection caught him by surprise. A pleasant surprise.

You knew you shouldn’t want more. Shouldn’t want him. But it felt too good to stop and you both were already too far gone to even try so you didn’t stop him when his hand left your panties to focus on sliding them down your thighs instead, before pulling your skirt up to your hips.

“We shouldn’t.” You whispered, a moment of lucidity in your thoughts, probably sparked by the sudden vulnerability you felt now that your underwear had been removed. Good thing Sebastian couldn’t see you in the dark, otherwise he would have laughed at how red your cheeks probably were by now.

“Why not ?” He asked, interrupting his attempt to open up his pants and focusing his full attention on you.

“Because…” You started, but suddenly couldn’t think of any real reason as to why it wasn’t a good idea, except for one. “Because we’re friends.”

He laughed and you felt his hand on your chest moving upwards to your neck until it reached your chin. He turned your face in his direction, leaving merely an inch of space between your lips and his.

“We’ll still be friends after that.” He promised, pressing a kiss on your mouth that was everything but friendly. It was a passionate, eager and hungry kiss. Desperate even, and just like that, your only good reason to stop him seemed completely unjustified. You could allow it to happen, you could hook up with your best friend without instantly losing him, there was no harm in having a little fun after all, you both were two consenting adults.

You returned his kiss and pressed your back against him, making him understand that you had no more objections and you felt him smile against your lips, triumphant.

He parted from you to finish unbuttoning his pants, pulling his hard cock out of them. He guided it between your legs, the tip instantly gliding between your wet folds when he stepped closer, easily finding its way to your prepared entrance. However, his erection was much bigger than his finger and you gasped in shock as it slowly stretched you out the deeper it went in. You braced yourself with your hands against the wall in front of you for support, whimpering pathetically when his full length was shoved inside you, making you feel incredibly full and hot.

A few obscenities dropped from his lips, mixed with groans and gasps as he moved his hips back and forth to create the friction you both so desperately craved. With his hands on each of your hips, he guided you in rythym to add in some intensity to his own thrusts, making sure that you’d meet him ready whenever he sloppily pushed forward, his tip hitting as deep as it could inside your wet pussy.

It felt good, and the pleasure building up in the pit of your stomach kept intensifying with each of his thrusts. You weren’t aware of much else except of how perfectly he fitted inside you, how your own walls were contracting around him the closer to climaxing you got, and faintly - very faintly - of the distant sound of a poltergeist’s voice in the empty hallways.

At least Sebastian could still think clearly enough to remember the reason why you had ended up in such close proximity in the first place, and how crucial it was that you did not get caught. Especially not now that he was so recklessly fucking you from behind. So one of his hand let go of the grip it had on your hip to cover your mouth, muffling the sound of the moans you didn’t even realize that you were letting out, and effectively silencing your cry when the pleasant sensation in your body exploded into pure bliss.

Then, it was his turn to struggle with keeping quiet. He bite down on his lower lip as hard as he could when the tightness of your walls around him became way too intense to bare, causing him to shoot his load deep inside you. He filled you up with his cum, unable to stop himself, another obscene word dropping from his lips as he realized how imprudent it was.

Once he was done and your body relaxed enough to allow him to pull out, he took a step back and leaned against the wall, chest heaving and vision blurry. You were panting too as you reached down to pull your panties back on, feeling his release dripping out of you and already soaking the fabric. You adjusted your skirt and your hair, although you weren’t sure it mattered that much. Not in the darkness of the supply closet at least.

Sebastian’s ragged breathing slowly came back to normal, you heard the sound of his pants and the way he shifted to tug his shirt back inside them, making himself presentable again as well. Then, without a word, he cracked the closet door open and took a tentative look around.

With the corridors apparently cleared, he stepped out and held out his hand for you, gallantly helping you down the step as your eyes adjusted to the moonlit hallway. You followed him as he guided you through the castle back to your dorm, hand in hand this time, and once it was time for you to go your separate ways, he wished you a goodnight with a shy kiss on your lips and a smug grin on his face that you knew all too well.

By some kind of miracle you couldn’t quite comprehend, you hadn’t failed your transfiguration exam, even scoring a pretty acceptable number of points on it. You should have been overjoyed when Professor Weasley handed you your copy back, even though she looked at you with a sucpicious expression on her face, but your mind was mulling over something much more important.

By the time your last class of the day was over, you still hadn’t managed to smile a single time, absently doodling on your parchement paper instead of taking notes for the next exam. You only realized that your day was over because all the students around you suddenly got up, leaving you to pack your things up in a rush. You were the last person to leave the classroom but, as you stepped outside in the courtyard, a familiar freckled face was waiting for you by the door, a grin on his face that you tried to imitate, although your heart tightened in your chest and it suddenly felt like there wasn’t enough air outside to fill your lungs.

“So ? Did you pass Weasley’s preparation exam ?” He inquired, excitedly enough to make you think that he already knew the answer. But when he saw how difficult it was for you to feign the same kind of enthusiasm, his face dropped and his brows furrowed intensely.

“I did.” You told him, walking to the fountain so that you could sit on the edge of it, a welcomed rest after the sleepless night you had endured.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a boggart ?”

“I’m fine.” You said, but you knew he didn’t believe you at all. You barely believed it yourself.

“What’s going on ?” He asked, his tone softer, concern on his face as he sat down next to you. You took a deep breath, panic rising in you once again. You knew that you would have to tell him eventually, but the fear of how it might ruin your friendship weighted heavily on your chest. “Is it because of… What we did last month ?”

You looked at him, surprised to see his usual confidence gone, replaced by worry and empathy.

“Yes.” You admitted, quietly but he looked away, letting you know that he heard you clearly.

“I’m sorry if I did something that upset you.” He said, his legs nervously bouncing up and down. “I noticed you’ve been distant since it happened, I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“No, it’s not that, I’m not upset.” You said, shaking your head, which seemed to reassure him slightly and he dared look at you again. You knew it was time to tell him the truth and you didn’t know of any better way to do it than dropping it on him like a ticking bomb. “I think I’m pregnant, Sebastian.”

You watched as his eyes widened and many different emotions passed on his face, from confusion to absolute fear.

“Wh-What ? Is it… Mine ?” He asked, once the shock of your confession allowed him to speak again, although his face had turned ghostly pale.

“No, it’s Poppy’s...” You snapped, vexed by his question. Whose else could it be ? He was one of the only males that still dared approach you now that the whole school knew of your ability to wield ancient magic and of the many deaths such a power had caused. “Of course it’s yours !”

“Alright, okay, let’s not panic.” He said, seemingly struggling to follow his own advice, jumping up from his seat to walk around you in circles with his hands tugging at his hair and a grimace on his face. “How did this happen ?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if you really needed to have a conversation about the birds and the bees with him… But when his brown eyes met yours, something flashed in them, making it clear that he knew exactly how it had happened, the memory still playing in details in his mind on a daily basis.

“Gosh, what are we going to do ?” You whined, hiding your face behind your hands. “My parents are going to kill me… And they are going to kill you too.”

“They don’t need to know now, right ? Nobody has to know yet, there’s still time.”

“If I don’t tell them, they’ll figure it out pretty quickly when I’ll look about ready to pop after we graduate...”

“But by then we’ll have figured things out too… Hopefully.” Sebastian said, with a smile he meant to be reassuring but you could still clearly see the sheer panic in his eyes. “Until then, we should try to keep it a secret... Even from Ominis.”

“Okay, that shouldn’t be too hard.”

(( Part 2 )) - (( Part 3 )) - ♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

[sunnyrealist]

The Sallow Twins, 1880

I commissioned the talented @giselsann-opencommissions to create a portrait of Anne and Sebastian as six-year-olds in front of their family home in Aranshire.

This portrait will be featured in a later chapter of my fic, The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars, but I couldn’t wait to post it - it’s just too cute. I hope you enjoy the little details! ����

I also need to credit @hogwartslegacypics for the background screenshot. This artwork would not be the same without it. Thank you for your generosity.

[evaslytherpuff]

Just some Seb to brighten your day!💚🥰

(Sebastian is 18+ in this photo!)

[baldriantee]

Oops, it turned out to be a little more than just one👀

Enjoy!

[waywardqueen411]

A New Legacy - Hogwarts Legacy x Harry Potter Crossover - Part 4

Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Summary:

After a rather brutal encounter with Ranrok's loyalists, the Hero of Hogwarts finds herself falling through time and space entering a world that's almost home, but not quite. Of course there's nothing else to do aside from adapt, improvise and overcome.

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

A/N: Again, sorry for the extremely late update. Also i know Sebastian is dead in this universe (or is he) but the reader has some feelings she needs to deal with lol

Warnings: Violence, Major character death, blood

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader, Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader (more to be added on as the story progresses)

Word Count: 2600

You don't know how long it went on for. You'd wake up, remember what had happened, cry uncontrollably with Ominis by your side, shushing you, pressing soft kisses to your head, muttering warm words of understanding - and then you'd promptly pass out again.

The third time it happened Ominis took you out of the training room and into a bedroom.

When he was done tucking you in, he hesitantly began turning towards the door but you stopped him. You reached out and grabbed his warm hand with your own, a soft whimper escaping your lips. "Don't go," you said, in a small, tiny voice that felt like it didn't belong to you.

Ominis didn't say anything, and for a moment you thought you'd stretched the limits of his kindness too far, but a moment later, he turned around and lifted the sheets next to you. His presence was warm and comforting, so it was easy for you to pass back out into darkness, his calloused fingers rubbing little circles into the exposed skin of your shoulder.

The sunlight shining onto your face felt blinding when you awoke again. Ominis seemed to have been anticipating this moment, and forced a potion down your throat as soon as you sat up to shut the curtains. It left a bitter taste in your mouth and you looked up at him to protest, but he'd already stood, walking over to shut the light out. You watched his form as he walked over to the dresser, where some clothes had been folded neatly in a small stack.

"You need a change of clothes," he ordered, but his voice had no heat behind it. You frowned a little, already feeling sleepy again. You were unconscious before your head hit the pillow, and the last thing you saw was Ominis' worried face as he rushed towards you.

The final time you awoke, dawn had just broken and whispers of bright light were seeping in through the cracks in the curtains. You turned immediately, heart racing, but calmed when you realized that Ominis was still beside you, sound asleep.

You allowed yourself a moment to take him in.

You had never seen Ominis asleep before. It felt like a dream. He looked so much younger while he slept - the lines in his face less pronounced, his features not scolwed in defence. Years of worry and fear seemed to evaporate, and you could see the softness in his eyes, the roundness of his cheeks, the gentle slope of his lips. He looked so - vulnerable.

Your mind flashed back to your kiss with Ominis.

You blushed at thr thought, because truth be told, you wanted to feel it again. You wanted to feel his full supple lips against your own, wanted to feel his warm breath across your face. You didn't take the time to notice what his breath smelled like, what his mouth tasted like, but your imagined it to be something close to caramel, with a hint of vanilla.

Your eyes dropped down to his lips. You were so close. It would be so easy to steal a small peck, to satiate your curiosity.

Immediately, you pushed the thought to the back of your mind, your chest filling with guilt. He was Sebastain's best friend, and here you were, fantasizing about the taste of him.

"You're staring," Ominis said. You screamed and promptly fell off the bed.

"How long have you been awake?" you asked, popping your head up. Your heart hammered in your chest.

"Not long," he lied. You knew he was lying. His left eyebrow always twitched when he lied. You blushed violently, the cold wood of the floor an unwanted contrast to the warm bed you'd just been in.

"Great," you said, standing up fully. You felt a little wobbly on your feet, but managed a good few steps towards the door before you fell over.

Only you didn't fall.

You blinked up at Ominis, who had somehow walked the 10 feet from the bed to the door in the time you had fallen to the ground. "Hi," you said softly, suddenly noticing the complete lack of space between the two of you.

"You need to regain your strength," he replied, an amused smile playing across his face, "Do you think you could make it to the dining room?"

"Yeah," you said, but you weren't sure. Ominis seemed to realize this as he still accompanied you there.

When the two of you arrived there was a small feast of food laid out on the table, with two places sat next to each other - one at the head of the table, and one next to it.

"House elves?" you asked, somewhat in awe.

"Yes. Come," Ominis said, leading you to the table with a hand on the small of your back, "I'll explain everything once you've gotten some food into your system."

You thought you wouldn't be able to eat with all the crying and sleeping you'd been doing, but the food was truly amazing. You ended up eating a full plate and a half before you could slow down enough to talk to Ominis.

"How long have I been-" the sentence hung awkwardly in the air. Ominis cleared his throat, looking more like the strict and formal person you knew him to be.

"We've been here for three days," he said. You dropped your fork.

"I'm sorry," you said, feeling yourself blush. "I should have been here, helping you figure this out-"

"It's fine," Ominis interrupted, speaking through slightly got teeth. "I- you lost a great deal,"

You swallowed, "So did you,"

"Sebastian wasn't to me what he was to you," Ominis said, stabbing a sausage with his fork.

You found yourself unable to respond.

Because really had Sebastian been to you? A lover? Maybe he could have been, one day. Maybe he would have been already if you'd just gathered the courage to ask. The two of you had never spoken about your feelings for each other, but you always assumed there was something there, something that would blossom into more if given the time.

But time had run out.

"Sebastian and I were never together," you mumbled out eventually. Ominis let out a laugh through his nose.

You wondered what he thought of the kiss.

"I suppose not," Ominis said after a beat.

A small silence followed before Ominis cleared his throat.

"So, about your name-" he said. You froze.

"Right," you said slowly.

"You still don't remember it, do you?" he asked after a beat.

"I- I don't," you said, the cucumber sandwich in your hand suddenly feeling grossly unappetizing. "Do you," you said before realizing, "You don't know my name either,"

"No, unfortunately not," Ominis said. Your heart sank. "I've tried a great deal to remember. I've even looked through my memories in a pensive I found in the study, but no luck. I'm sorry. I was hoping it would come back to you on your own time."

You felt tears build up in your eyes. "Do you remember anything about me?" you asked breathlessly. Ominis frowned.

"I remember everything," he almost whispered, "Just not your name."

You sighed softly. "Great," you groaned, "It's not like you're literally the only other person in this timeline that would have that information,"

Ominis went silent. You looked at him for a good minute.

"What?" you asked.

"Maybe I'm not." he said. "You said you went to Gringotts on the night you arrived at Hogwarts, right?"

"Yes," you said, confused.

"Gringotts keep records for centuries. There's a chance that yours - ours could still be there." Ominis said. You suddenly felt hopeful once more.

"Then there truly is no time to waste."

Diagon Alley was terrifying.

You had never been there before in your life, but according to Ominis it was much smaller in your Original time line. It seemed to have expanded over the years.

If circumstances had been different, you'd probably find this place amazing - whimsical, even - but right now it just represented another set of unknowns.

You held your borrowed wand tightly as Ominis lead you through the alley. "It should be right - here we are," he said, stopping suddenly. You raised a brow at the site of the large building.

Because in your timeline, you'd been inside Gringotts, but you'd never seen the actual building.

"This is Gringotts?" you asked in a hushed tone. The alley was packed to the brim with witches and wizards going about their shopping.

Ominis smirked, "Are you underwhelmed?" he asked. You rolled your eyes and slapped his shoulder lightly.

"No, I just thought it'd be..."

"Thought it'd be what?" he asked.

"Bigger," you said. Ominis laughed, mumbling something that sounded like 'that's what she said' which you pointedly ignored.

With how well Ominis had handled the situation, you somehow forgot that he was just a teenager.

"Come on," he encouraged and the two of you walked through the doors.

Almost every Goblin stopped what they were doing to look at you. You swallowed, but Ominis simply gripped your arm and forced you to move.

"They're staring," you said. Ominis laughed.

"I get this all the time," he joked. You smiled softly.

"Greetings, Griphook," Ominis said politely, his wand reading the name tag to him. "We would like to do an ancestry evaluation," the goblin - Griphook, shot you a curious look.

"What do you wish to test for?" he asked, "Blood purity?"

Ominis winced, "No." he said firmly, "We would like to find any inheritance to our names,"

Griphook looked suspicious. "Alright. Follow me," he said and lead the two of you through an alley way on the left.

You passed several doors before you finally reached your destination. Your palms began to sweat.

"An analyst will be with you momentarily," Griphook said. Ominis smiled.

"Thank you. May your gold flow forever," Ominis said. Griphook looked at him in shock before wiping his face clear of emotions.

"And may your enemies flee in terror," Griphook replied before leaving promptly.

"What was that?" you asked after a beat

"Traditional Goblin greetings," Ominis said, smiling a little. "It seems like the curtesy has been lost."

"It seems like Wizarding kind had forgotten," you offered instead, looking around the room.

A moment later, a female goblin walked in, looking rather disgruntled.

"Morning," Ominis said warmly, stepping forward.

"Right hands please," the goblin said in reply. You looked to Ominis who didn't hesitate before giving the goblin his exposed palm. You took a breath and followed his lead.

The goblin pulled out a sharp vial and pierced the tip of it into Ominis' skin. He winced. Before you could pull away, she'd done the same to you, with a new vial.

"Ouch," you said softly.

The goblin ignored you, choosing instead to place the vials in the middle of the table she was standing behind. Immediately, the table came to life with ruins, glittering gold and blue.

"Whats that?" you couldn't help but ask.

"Your lifeline," the goblin said, looking carefully at the ruins, "You're not from here," it wasn't a question, but you nodded anyway. The goblin made a soothing sound. "You two have come a long way,"

"We have," Ominis agreed.

"Do you think," you began to ask, "Is it possible for us to go back?" you whispered.

The goblin looked sympathetic. It told you all you needed to know.

"The magic that brought you here was powerful and complex," she said, "the kind of magic that happened once in a hundred years. It is possible, but it would be very meticulous. A mistake would cost you gravely, as it already has,"

Sebastian.

You looked at Ominis then. His face glowed slightly in the blue light, making him look otherworldly. He was truly beautiful. You thought of the way he'd taken care of you these last few days, of the feeling of his body next to you as you fought with consciousness. You thought of the family he would return to if you did go home, of the life he would have.

"I guess we could make it work," you said softly. Ominis turned to you then, surprised. But before he could say anything, the goblin spoke once more.

"The spell is completed," she said. Would you like to view the results?"

"Yes," Ominis said, his voice faltering just a little. Suddenly, a roll of parchment appeared in front of you. You reached out and took it.

Name: Aria Evans

Family: Evans

Living relatives: Harry James Potter,

Great great grand nephew

Accounts available: Evans Family Trust 0411. Available Balance: 6 947 679 Galleons, 12 Sickles, 18 Knutz

Properties available: Evans Family home, Cokeworth

Blood status: Half-blood.

"I don't understand," you said after a beat, "How can you have all of this information?"

"It runs in your blood," the Goblin said kindly. "It appears, from the records, that your brother had carried on the family name, and that your great grand neice was magical - believed herself to be of muggleborn origin. As her great great grandfather - your brother died before he could pass down the legacy of magic. There didn't seem to be a magical family member before her."

"Are you alright?" Ominis said after a beat.

"I never knew my family," you said, "I didn't even knew I had a brother,"

A short silence followed. You quickly broke it.

"Why can I inherite this if I have a living relative?" you asked, looking at the name Harry James Potter suspiciously.

"Your great grand niece discovered your existence when drafting her magical will," the goblin said. "She was a great witch with powers even us goblins feared,"

"Ancient magic," you said. The goblin nodded.

"I was not there at the creation of the will, but rumor has it her magic told of your arrival. Thus she set her assets aside for you and you alone, believing you would need it when you arrived. Believing you to be vital in the defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named."

"He Who Must Not Be Named?" you asked hesitantly. The goblin sighed a little. She was about to speak when Ominis interrupted.

"My grand-nephew," he said. You looked to him in suspicion. The goblins eyes widened in horror.

"You-" she said, "The man who has caused such death and destruction - is of the Gaunt family tree?" the goblin asked in horror.

Ominis flushed a little. "As it would appear. He seems to be my only direct descendant. The grandson of my brother Marvolo," he said. "I apologize, this must be very disturbing for you to hear."

The goblin sighed. "You are not responsible for the actions of those who came before - or after you." she said gently.

Ominis took the parchment in front of him and rolled it up into a scroll. You followed his lead. "We need to find some more information," he said. You hummed in agreement.

"It is best that you read up on modern history before you continue on your journey. There is a reputable bookstore in the Alley," she said.

"Thank you," you replied, "May your, um, gold flow eternally," you said hesitantly.

The goblin laughed a bit. "It's 'may your gold flow forever,'" she corrected gently.

"Thank you, uh-"

"Gloria," she supplied.

"May your gold flow forever, Gloria," you said with a small smile.

"And may your enemies flee in terror," she responded. "You two are not like the other witches and wizards we have encountered,"

"Well, you can't have encountered many decent ones then," Ominis replied, still a little flushed.

Gloria laughed a little. "Consider yourselves friends of the Goblins of Gringotts. It was a great pleasure doing business with you,"

"Thank you," Ominis said, looking extremely touched. "Please take the 100 Galeon fine from my account," he said and before you could protest, he bowed slightly and began to leave. Gloria bowed back and you quickly thanked her before running after Ominis.

[biographyofanadult]

I don’t think I’ve ever been this obsessed with a fictional character. I’ve been a fangirl of a number of things for as long as I can remember and I’ve fallen in love with countless characters and stories, but something about Sebastian Sallow… the game-makers at Avalanche really hooked me with this charming, freckled, bad-boy and he just had to be SO DAMN CUTE??!!!

[pandanscart]

Long time no Sebinis. Had to correct that today.

[mongeesemeese]

In honor of my computer finally being able to run Hogwarts Legacy again, here are Ominis and Sebastion.

Nothing crazy. Just ma boys.

[orqheuss]

Even the iron still fears the rot PART 6

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST)

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Summary:

What was a stupid man to the will of a god? *** Fire and carnage call your name, and you answer with a smile. God have mercy on the souls who take what is yours.

Word count: 5.5k

Tags: murder, dismemberment, immolation (burning alive), body horror, graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of murder, manic behavior, gore, blood, strangulation, disembowelment, decapitation, torture, medieval torture methods, delusions of grandeur, mania, morally grey character, eldritch horror elements, slight cannibalism? kind of, just lots of blood and guts and murder

Read at your own discretion. Seriously.

See authors note at the end

Fire was always your element, that's why it was such a shock when you were sorted into Hufflepuff. Of course, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You weren't brave in the face of danger like Gryffindor, weren't ambitious in all aspects of life like Slytherin, and definitely weren't wise beyond measure like Ravenclaw. But, Merlin, were you loyal, and loyalty came with a certain type of fire that kept you burning. 

There really was no other element that fit Hufflepuff. Sure, earth was stagnant— safe. But, even the ground is failable. The earth cracks— it splinters— it breaks under too much pressure. Fire thrives. Fire breathes. Fire learns. Loyalty comes with the same type of knowledge. You learn how people tick— how the world moves around you and interacts with everything it touches. Those you have touched you had to study first before placing your loyalty in their hands. Their mannerisms, their disposition; anything that gives them that unique other-ness that set them apart from the rest of the kindling around you. You didn’t trust easily, like some of your other housemates. It took you time to learn things about people. But, once they earned your loyalty, there was no question that they deserved it. 

Fire is much the same, in a sense. It was loyal to the wood that burned under its embers— loyal to the air that fueled its hearth. It takes its time to light, letting the friction of another's touch warm their skin first before setting itself ablaze. You needed to be gentle with it, lest it fizzled out before a spark could even be made. But, once it starts, it's almost impossible to kill it before it wishes to die. It can be a small pyre, just enough to warm those brave enough to put their hands near its flame— the caress of a friend, arms wrapped around your shoulders or fingers in your hair. It can also be an inferno, tendrils of heat licking at the sky as it scorches through the trees and buildings of towns, countries, worlds, devouring everything it can reach and so much more. 

Tonight, you were the inferno.

The coordinates in the letter were straightforward enough. You flew south east, taking off from just outside the covered bridge along the south side of Hogwarts and flying down, down, down over the Hamlets until you reached the northern tip of the South Sea Bog. Viering off to the right as the crow flies, you circle the air until an abandoned bothy caught your line of sight. You landed roughly, narrowly avoiding the large tree decorating the center of the space, and touching your feet to the ground with such velocity that it must have created waves. Voices came from your north side— maybe ten, you could hear, maybe more. Their thick cockney accents called into the night like the sound of woodpeckers drilling into a yew. Identical balls of light glowed to life from their stations— one on the roof of a dismally grey building and the other roaming along the exterior wall. If it was another time, a different situation perhaps, you would have taken a moment to marvel at the lovely little feat of magic. 

Creeping closer, you get a better view of the tiny hobble. It was a measly little feat of architecture, maybe the size of a classroom if you had to guess. The entirety of it was made out of grody, dilapidated stone with moss just beginning to peek through the cracks between bricks. Half of its base was sunk into the ground at least a foot or two, giving the small structure a slight tilt on its axis. There were no windows or doors from what you could see, just the neverending grey on grey on grey. Even the moss was tinged grey, like it was dying from just being a part of the terrible walls. No one would have ever found this place if it wasn’t for the coordinates— it was far off the beaten path and unassuming enough that many would deem it a simple ruin. It probably was up until two days ago. No sound could be heard besides the incessant rumble of the men talking and the soft call of frogs along the water's edge. It would be easy to take them out, there were enough stones around to create their own personal rock slide. You could do a number of things with your ancient magic if you focused enough. You could turn them into chickens and take them back to the castle kitchens, make them the size of bugs and squish them into nothing but red stains and bursted entrails on the ground, eviscerate them entirely— just dust in the breeze; none of those options were appalling enough to satiate the hunger burning in your gut. 

Monsters deserved a monstrous death. 

There was a time, a year ago at most, that you could be considered the same— a monster. That’s what Rookwood called you, anyway. A pretty monster. A beautiful weapon. 

He had no idea how true his assessment was. Not until it was his pulse pounding under your fingers, his breaths getting weaker and weaker with each squeeze. He was easy prey. 

Monster. 

How simple. 

There was truly no point in sneaking up on the camp. Not that the element of surprise really mattered, anyway. You wanted them to know you were here— that you were coming for what was rightfully yours. You wanted them afraid of the dark and the cold like a child calling out for its mother, fearful of what could be hunting them in the places that they couldn’t see. They took something from you, and you were going to take their lives as collateral. 

Your first course of action was taking a barrel of smoke powder and slamming it down on the head of the nearest poacher; the bottom source of light blinked out with him. The boom was catastrophic— the light blinding like an asteroid crashing into the ground. Viscera coated the dying earth in a lovely red, the man’s blood painting the atrocious grey building the color of your festering ire. All attention was suddenly on you. 

Good.

The harsh crackle of magic filled the swamp around you, sparks flying to the left and right of your form as you quickly zipped along the treeline, narrowly avoiding death by the skin of your teeth. The villains laughed with each strike, too giddy in their hunt to realize that they were firing into empty air. They were nothing but naive woodland creatures, grazing upon the earth below their cloven hooves and drinking from the stream nearby, unaware of the rifle narrowed at their succulent flanks. Your burning hatred gave you a strength you had never known, even with the thrum of a magic so ancient and uncharted under your skin. Whole trees were lifted with your ire, their bark splintering against the wall of the bothy with each flick of your wrist. Each action was haphazard and chaotic, but filled with purpose all the same. You hoped the cacophony of your destruction made it through the thick stone walls before you. I’m coming, my loves, it shouted. Hold on just a moment more. 

You were toying with the villains, a dance of agony and death— knowing you were there, but never being able to see you. One lone member of the pack came into view, his back to you and his wand poised to strike. Your diffindo struck him perfectly across the neck, his head falling to the ground with a satisfying plop. 

Two down, eight to go. 

You made your move then, taking the break in the chaos to disappear from your original position and reappear atop the slanted house in a fury of twisting light. The two patrolling the space didn’t have the chance to defend themselves before you swished your wand in their direction, summoning your ancient magic from deep within your veins and melting their insides into the consistency of gravy at Sunday dinner. Their screams of pain ricocheted off the tall mountains in the distance, bathing the valley in the sound of murder before pittering off into gargles as their lungs liquified inside their chest. You stepped back from the carnage, avoiding the steaming puddle of goop that was once their eyes and other various internal organs. Two birds, one stone. 

It was oddly calming, taking their lives. Like breathing. 

By now, the other six poachers had noticed your appearance on the roof. A pity, truly. You wanted to continue your little game for a moment longer. No matter, though, you sighed to yourself. Calls to order came from your right, their voices bubbling over with nervous panic. You felt your head whip in their direction, seemingly moving on its own accord. An unearthly smile stretched the skin of your cheeks, something primal glinting in the way your canines caught the ball of light bobbing next to your hand. The three men below you stilled, eyes wide in their sockets as you prowled closer to the edge of the roof. Fear screamed from their bodies like cicadas in the dead of night— their heartbeats slamming against their chests at the speed of a hummingbird. You figured that if you concentrated enough, you could hear them pour from their bodies like water, gushing more and more until the stream stilled and their pathetic forms fell back into the earth where they came from. Delicious. You smiled wider. 

True fright danced in the frigid air around you, ruffling the honey toned sweater clinging to your torso and making your scarf sway in the breeze— a child as innocent as freshly fallen snow covered in the blood of their enemies. One should never trust the illusion of blind naivety. 

The tiny ball of light, barely larger than a bludger, nudged you in the arm as it continued on its predetermined path, drawing your attention away from the cowering men. You picked it up gently, twirling it around in your left hand as you raised it closer to your face. 

“Dear God…” breathed one of the poachers at your feet, visibly recoiling as your grin came into better focus. A Muggleborn like me, you mused. Interesting. 

Your grin stretched wider as a demented laugh poured from your lips. “No,” you sneered. “He is not coming.” 

A pop— you squeezed the light in your hand and bathed the world in total darkness. 

“I am your god now.” 

True black night only lasted for a moment before the three fearful poachers raised their wands into the air, light streaming from the tips like a tiny balefire against the starry sky. They turned their gaze back to the roof, but you were gone, nothing but smoke and the last little tendrils of blue magic fizzing in the air. You could hear their hearts— staccato beats to the symphony of your horror. Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum. It was glorious, tantalizing, divine. You were ravenous for their blood. You wanted to spill their hot, life-giving essence across the world in a rainfall of astronomical proportions. You wanted their bodies piled against the stone walls until their skeletons created a terrible bone door like the many hidden in the Feldcroft catacombs. Bone doors, bone stairs, bone decorations…hell, the ivory material would even make a lovely handle for your wand. Maybe you’d gift them to your beloved boys after finally setting them free— a cat dropping a mouse at the feet of its owner after a hunt well done. 

The men remained stone still where they originally stood, backs now turned to the wall and wands waving wildly in front of them for any chance of spotting you in the dark. A dark chuckle bubbled from somewhere inside of you, sounding deep and deranged in the chilled night air. Their heartbeats picked up. You smiled. A flash of light streaked across the ground near their faces— you— and then their wands were gone, and everything was black once again. 

The darkness had a comfort to it, that night. Most are afraid of the dark— of what could come out of the dark. Demons, ghosts, horrors unknown to mankind. It sucked the air from your lungs and left you shivering on the ground, truly scared and blubbering for your mother. The darkness swallowed happiness and light, it hid behind your terror and smelled your fear. You reveled in it— thrived in it. In that moment, feral and begging to choke on the blood of your enemies as you ripped their skin from their throats, you felt at home. 

You were the monster in the dark. 

You were their nightmare. 

You were their god. 

The four horsemen of the apocalypse perched on your shoulders and whispered sweet nothings in your ears, and it sounded like music. 

In that dark— that dread— even you weren’t sure where you were. You were everywhere. You were nowhere. You were both. You were neither. You were all. 

What was a stupid man to the will of a god? 

You picked them off one by one; first the three at your feet, then the three hiding from you in the thicket. They could not hide from fate. 

One went down in a trickle of fire, your hands gripping at their gnashing jaw and feeding the incendio from your wand down their throat. Hellfire cannot kill the beast. 

Two choked on their own tongues, your bombarda launching them through the air and skewering them on the branch of a tree, their limbs limp at their sides and blood dripping from their mouths frozen in a silent scream. Red was beginning to become your favorite color. 

That left the three in the woods, no doubt soiling their britches at the sounds of their compatriots' violent demise. The trees shivered under your harsh gaze, fearful of what your ire would bring to those hiding amongst their trunks. You were beginning to get bored of the chase— it was time to get what you came for. 

Callously casting accio along the treeline, you pulled one of the poachers to you, their face gaunt and their body shaking in horror. Your brows furrowed at the sight, smile finally dropping from your face at the view of only one body instead of three. Anger festered under your skin as you dropped the sniveling man, already annoyed by his pleas for mercy. The smell of urine clung to his form and you cringed internally. Grabbing at the collar of his robe, you pulled him up from where he crumpled to the ground, dragging him until you were face to face. Tears clung to his lashes and it gave you the slightest shiver of vindication. 

“Where are the others?” You said, serene and calm; your face gave a much different tone as your mouth twitched, fighting against the urge to twist your lips into an animalistic snarl. 

“They— they ran.” He stuttered, lower lip trembling. 

You sighed to yourself, finally allowing your visage to drop its neutrality and turn into the terrible thing it desired— all teeth and malice. Coal blazed to life in your eyes. 

“How disappointing.” You sneered in his face, throwing him roughly into the side of the bothy and watching him slide down against the grotesque floor, blood and mud mixing together into a thick viscous paste. 

You could taste his panic in the air around you, mixing with the copper of the ichor plastered against every surface imaginable. It was truly a bloodbath at your feet. You were sure you didn’t look much better; you could see the vibrant crimson liquid dripping down your face and arms in his wet eyes. You bathed in the lives you took, and it looked like war paint. 

Your anger vibrated against your skin, electricity sparking in the air around you and twirling around your body like a macabre dance of death— a masochistic tango. The man whimpered before you, trembling at the image of your glory— your birthright covering your form in foreboding lightning of blues and golds. Now you were a god. 

A beauty of carnage. A vision in red. 

You stalked closer to your prey, teeth chattering and tongue desperate to taste the death rattle that would breathe from his throat at the time of his demise. This one needed to be good— slow. You wanted to take your time. You needed answers. 

“Where is the entrance?” You asked, squatting down and resting your elbows against your knees— the picture of relaxation in the face of danger— a tiger playing with its food before tearing into its flesh. The poachers' shivers grew more violent by the second.  

His mouth opened and closed like a fish struggling for air on land, words beginning then stuttering to a halt as fast as they left his lips. Each syllable wasted sent a spike of rage in your gut— his squeaks of terror no longer giving you a taste of joy, instead filling you with fury. Time was wasting. Ominis and Sebastian could be dead, and he was stalling. 

You pressed your wand harshly into his face, the tip divoting his cheek painfully and the hot wood sizzling his skin. Burnt flesh filled your nostrils. He squeaked out a whimper. 

“Where is the entrance, rat?” Your voice was filled with a dark, tempestuous temper. 

The tears gathering behind his eyes finally spilled down his face, blubbering like a toddler with a skinned knee. 

“It-It’s around f-front. You ‘ave to t-tap the bricks. Like this.” He said, demonstrating the pattern to you before struggling to lean away. His voice cracked pathetically. “Please spare me. Please. I ‘ave a family— ‘ave kids. I-I’ll tell the others to never mess with ya or ya boys again. Please ‘ave mercy!” 

His voice sobbed into the night, grating against your ears. Your anger felt like a festering boil in your gut, growing more and more until it was fit to burst. He had children? Children like the ones he helped kidnap and torture? How dare he beg for his life using them as leverage. Ominis and Sebastian were your family. They were yours. And he  t o u c h e d  them. You were going to make him feel every bit of pain he could. You wanted to see how much evil evil could take. 

You stood to your full height, your limbs stretching taller than ever before— taller than the sky. Taller than the heavens. Before the useless, weak man stood something reverent. Mania blistered under your skin and whole forest fires screamed behind your eyes. 

You were a wildfire— a blaze in the dark. 

And blazes  b u r n. 

His feet struggled against the muck-covered floor, boots slipping from under him as he tried desperately to run from your imposing form. 

Your smile stretched across your face, cheeks straining against the pressure and teeth glowing in the moonlight. “Pick a god and pray, coward.” 

Fire circled around you, streaming from the tip of your wand like a fountain of deadly light as you raised it slowly over your head. Your arms thrusted upwards towards the blackness above, fingers spread wide like a sinner praying at the pews of his own end. A circle of embers blazed to life around the sniffling man, scorching the ground and drying the earth to clay pottery. The grass caught ablaze and smoke poured into the sky. 

Heavy pants cascaded around you like a waterfall, whimpers and pleas sounding like music to the deaf. “Please! Mercy! Mer—” 

A tornado of flame swallowed the man whole, and the night was filled with screams once again. 

The inside of the bothy was just as dark and dismal as the outside— more grey attacking all surfaces and covering everything in an eerie shade of desolation. The only difference was the presence of natural light and sound; as soon as you entered it was like being trapped in the center of a tornado: peaceful, quiet, calm, but something temperamental lurking on all sides. Behind the coded bricks lay a long hallway, stacks of boxes lining the walls from the floor to the ceiling. The smell of mildew hung heavy in the space, coating the air around you like a thick paste. Each step made it harder and harder to breathe, the only thing keeping you going is the burning hatred boiling over in your chest. Every inch of you felt like a bomb close to explosion— one wrong move and the whole place would go up in flames. 

You moved steadily down the hallway, careful to not jostle anything in your path lest it alert anyone hiding in the shadows. You gripped your wand tightly in your hand, the gilded handle threatening to slip from your grasp because of the blood coating your palms. Blood covered you from the top of your head to the boots adorning your feet, each step leaving a perfect imprint of your heels like deer tracks in the snow. Water trickled down from the ceiling, each droplet ricocheting around the thin, claustrophobic space, and booming in your ears. Your eye twitched along with the beat. Drip, drip, drip. It filled the room with macabre music, beginning your true orchestral ode to death— the magnum opus of your building rage. 

From the left came the sound of scuttering of feet against the dirt floor below. Your head whipped in their direction, eyes wild and teeth bared, ready to tear and rip and devour. You can see nothing in the darkness, just the neverending blackness holding your future victory or death. The sound was to your right now, shoes sliding against the floor like a ghost calling to you. You growled low in your throat— beastly. Feral. 

A strong, heavy voice broke through the stagnant quiet. “Fiat lux.” 

From the nothingness came a blaze of light, blue and twinkling like the stars above. One of those glowing circles from outside began to take form, wisps of magic circling around and around until a solid shape formed. Before you stood a brute of a man, eyes narrowed against yours and grin thin and cracking across his face like shattered porcelain. His arms were crossed against his chest, biceps thicker than the trunks of live oak trees and no less strong and powerful. 

“You’re a long way from home, little rabbit.” He sneered, gravel thick in his voice like he swallowed rocks. 

You leveled your wand at his chest, a clandestine smile stretching your cheeks. 

“Where are they?” You purred, the picture of innocence if not for the death that hung from you like a second skin. 

This man was not a danger to you— he was nothing. You were something holy in this place of hellish savagery. He would soon kneel at the pews of your righteousness just like the others did. 

The man tisked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s no way to start a conversation. How about we try a ‘hello’?” 

You grit your teeth, tone still sickeningly sweet and dripping with the deranged vivocity that lay under your skin since Ominis and Sebastian had been taken from you. “How about you step aside before I grind your bones into dust?” 

He laughed, grating and rough against the sensitive skin of your ears. You didn’t want his laughter, you wanted his screams. 

“You’re different from what I expected.” He mused, drawing his wand and twirling it between his fingers. His laissez faire attitude singed the ends of your veins, setting your sinew alight in a fiery storm. “They talked about you, you know. How much they loved you— how they prayed you’d come save them. It was pathetic, really, how much hope they had.” 

Your ears twitched at his use of past tense. 

Loved you.

Prayed for you. 

Hoped for you. 

The connotations made you feel vicious. 

God help this wretched filth if they took what you loved away from you. 

If the brute wanted a reaction, he would get one. 

He twirled the ball of light in his hand now, revealing his mangled face and disintegrating teeth to the world. You laughed in his face at his pitiful attempt of intimidation.

That cocky, full of himself look in his eyes made you want to squash his weak larynx under your foot. 

His pompous attitude was beginning to get tiring. You raised your wand in front of you, wordlessly casting lumos and hovering the tip near your face. As soon as your bloody visage came into view his eyes widened, lids stretched from his cheeks to his brows and eyeballs threatening to pop out of their homes like a corpse baking under the sun. It was glorious. His sudden nervousness flooded the room with the smell of sweat, and you couldn’t wait to take a swim in those cataclysmic waters. 

That never ceasing smile on your face stretched somehow wider until it reached a point of madness. You stepped closer to the poacher, now minutely quivering in his large boots under the intensity of your gaze. In the low light, your pupils seemed to glow like a predator hiding in the tall bushes— demented glee turning the once muted colors a startling vermillion. Ancient magic coursed under your skin and sparked into the air. Luminous blue and encompassing red swirled under your feet until everything blended into an otherworldly purple, dyeing the room like stained glass in a cathedral. Manic energy twinkled in your eyes, and your hands longed to write entire scriptures on the walls in his blood. 

The weak little poacher attempted to straighten his shoulders, making a big show of standing tall and resolute in the stone doorway between you and your prize, and you couldn’t help the barking laugh that bubbled from your chest. What a pathetic waste of space. 

His eyebrows twitched, eyes still filled with fear but voice tinged with animosity. “What did you do, you little shit?” 

His snarl fell to deaf ears— nothing but the madness inside consuming you. You laughed again, maniacal and hysteric like a hyena on a hunt, and began slowly pacing back and forth, making sure to keep your eyes trained on him as you inched closer and closer.

“Oh, a little of this. A little of that. I can go more into detail if you’d like?” You stopped then, standing an arms width from the man and twirling your wand between your fingers like he did earlier. The smile never left your face, and you doubted it would for some time. “The screams were my favorite part.” 

He growled, jowls dripping saliva and wand poised to strike— the ball of light unceremoniously dropped from his hand and floated peacefully in the air. “You’re going to pay for that, and when I’m done with you, I’m going to go back to your little boys and crush their skulls under my boot.” 

You flipped your own wand around in your fingers, tip pointed upwards towards his face and arm lax. A serene calmness flooded your body once again as you prepared for what was sure to be another short lived duel. “I’d love to see you try.” 

His blinding anger was met with indifference, your eyes rolling on their own accord, easily deflecting the cast he sent your way with a dazzling show of sparks. Each spell he sent towards you was sent back tenfold, your blazing magic cracking against the mediocre shield the man threw up moments before you retaliated. As you stepped forwards he stepped back— a deadly game of cat and mouse that could only end in complete annihilation. You toyed with him more, smile never once leaving your lips and eyes nearly unblinking as the poacher's ragged face became more and more gaunt with distress. It was enjoyable, leading him through your little game— playing with your food before going in for the kill, like a wolf chasing a rabbit through the thicket. 

With a flick of your wrist you sent your ancient magic in his direction, letting your malice carry the tendrils around his form before moving your arms in the shape of a large X. With each stretch of your arm came the loud thump of the weak little man slamming against the unforgiving ground below. His yells of pain were magnetic, drawing you closer to his torture as the smell of fresh, oozing blood filled your nostrils. You licked your lips with delight— glorious death. 

Again, your mind chanted. Again again again. 

For a moment the man didn’t move, the only sound breathing through the room being the delicate drops of water falling from the slanted ceiling. Some part of your twisted, idled mind believed you could still hear the beat of his heart thrumming in your ears. Maybe you could. Maybe it was your own heartbeat. At this point, nothing truly mattered anymore. 

The brute groaned on the floor, arms carefully picking himself up and legs trembling as he raised to his full height again. Blood dribbled from the corners of his lips as he spit a chunk of flesh to the ground, watching his own tongue wiggle for a moment before falling still. A thick, muddled growl grumbled low in his throat at the sight. 

“Awe,” you cooed. “What a pity.” 

With a flash of movement the man threw his wand to the side, eyes wild and teeth bared in a snarl as he charged. A terrible yell screamed from his throat, no vowels or consonants able to be said without the piece of muscle once connected to his mouth, just the grotesque sound of rage and carnage. You easily side stepped as he blew past you, his hands grasping for your arms with no luck, leaving streaks of fingerprints in the blood marring your skin as he feebly fought for purchase. He slammed into the boxes behind you, tumbling heavily to the ground with another pitiful groan. You laughed heartily at the sound of his demise. 

Tired of your new toy, you watched him stand to his feet once more, a look of boredom glazing over your eyes. The pathetic man snarled once again, steam nearly coming from his nose like a charging bull as he geared up to attack. This time you saved him the energy, easily throwing him across the room and into the other tall stack of boxes. He laid still again, breaths entering and leaving his lungs with heavy pants. You stalked towards him, prey finally in your clutches and a look of pure mania bleeding through your face with an intensity that would scare even the most deplorable of villains. His body slumped as you toed him over, eyes glazed as they stared at you, all the fight once in his body now sinking into the ground like toxic waste. 

Your smile turned strained, the corners of your lips twitching in irritation. It was only fun when they fought back. 

“Beg,” you said, voice empty. “Beg for your life.” 

From his red-painted lips came a watery gargle, teeth stained the color of his fate. The chasm that once held his precious tongue now bare and splattered in crimson. 

You tisked, condescension steadily dripping with each click of your intact tongue. Your foot carefully slotted itself in the space between his chin and his chest, pressing down against his Adam's apple. 

“Can’t do it?” You asked. “What a shame.”

With a slash of your wand, blood began to bloom across his pudgy stomach, the slice from your silent diffindo digging deep under the layers of his skin and muscle until it reached the tightly knit knots of his intestines. 

Pointing at the mess of flesh, you ignored the gargled sobs coming from under your heel as you spoke. “Levioso.”

With the steady hands of a medic, you levitated the dying man into the air by his longest organs, dragging him higher and higher into the sky until his entrails were able to wrap themselves around the ceiling beam above.

“Incarcerous.”

The flesh followed your direction. From the beams he hung there, arms spread wide at his side and legs dangling feebly in the air like a phoenix rising from the ashes. You released the body, letting gravity take hold as you watched his intestines hold strong to the stretch of wood they were tied around. Blood fell from the wound like rainfall before pooling on the ground in an incarnadine pond. 

For the first time that hellish night, a bit of disgust slithered its way into your gut. 

This monster was as much a part of you as the person who fixed their lover's little black button was. 

Panic began to bubble inside of your chest again after hours of lying dormant, your eyes banishing the clouded malice that resided there for a moment before the storm struck again. Resolute determination covered your face like a mask as you shook it all away— there would be time to dismantle your evil and cry for your corpse-heavy soul later. 

The poachers' blood began to seep under the door as you turned towards your future.

AN: Firstly, I want to say thank you so much to all of you who have continued to read this story even though its been A YEAR since I updated. Yea. Oops. I'm real sorry y'all. I wish I had one of those Ao3 writer things like "sorry I was in a cult lol" or "I was in a car accident and wrote this in the hospital" but I don't. I genuinely just couldn't bring myself to write. I don't even know why. Maybe I don't want this story to end. Maybe I'm just pulling shit outta my ass. Who knows. I'm determined to finish this, though, so I will.

Secondly, I am splitting this final chapter that I'm working on into two. So, expect another part after this. Right now the draft is nearing 10k words and I haven't even gotten close to the end, so I thought it would be best to split it lol.

I got a lot of feedback from some of my creative writing kids while working on this, and I honestly couldn't have brought myself to write more without them. Their demented murder ideas and praise kept me going. Thank you Lyric and Kory. I know you won't see this because if I get even a whiff of you on my Ao3 or Tumblr I will end you and you know it, but the help is still appreciated more than you know.

Please don't hesitate to comment or send me messages, and get ready for the finale.

[pandanscafanfiction]

With the author's permission, I present to you: another AMAZING, LOVELY piece of fanart for Laundry Day!!! 😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️

Guys. Guys. I can't believe this. My heart is so full. PLEASE, if you like it, pour your love out to the creator on their twitter.

Thank each and every one of you for your kindness and support in my little fic. It definitely isn't the last you'll be seeing of Weaslow! I have another in the works! ❤️💚