#hl sebastian sallow

[dwightschrute11]

sebastian and mc after the scriptorium + Ignorant ordeal

[pandanscart]

Long time no Sebinis. Had to correct that today.

[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! ❤️💚

[lovesicklovermia]

——————————————————————

Quiet apologies, uttered in very early mornings. Winnie hadn’t recalled exactly the events that unfolded the day she’d met Sebastian Sallow for the first time, and if she were to think back, she couldn’t be too sure what exactly they’d said to one another, either. To her slight recollection, they had not spoken much. Winnie recalled it being her first day of lessons at Hogwarts, and before any of them had begun, she’d been utterly and inconsolably miserable. The girl could recollect some memories of bumping into the brown-haired boy, and him not saying very much, other than telling her, ever-so-helpfully, that she was the ‘new fifth year’. She recalled him saying that to her later, too. Before he was giving her ‘proper Hogwarts welcomes’, he was sat next to her on the ground, by the groundskeeping hut, the early morning dewy grass dampening their uniforms as they discussed the new Gryffindor’s underlying nervousness. Winnie could recall how Sebastian had offered to act cocky (even though, years later, in thoughts of the situation, winnie didn’t think he was acting at all) towards her, so she could best and beat him in the duelling match he knew Professor Hecat had ready.

It had not been one of Winifred’s proudest moments, to say the least.

Yet, the pair had walked together, separating only when they reached the Great Hall. Their words had been teasing, almost competitive, yet joyful all the same. In barely knowing one another, and not making an attempt to, just yet, on that early September morning, they’d changed the course of both of their lives forever.

[choccy-milky]

people-watching and gossiping 💅

(more older seblora brainrot bc of my oneshot)

[anomalyaly]

right where you left me

Summary: You died. Sebastian secretly had a portrait of you commissioned.

I profusely apologize for the pain.

Inspired by @sychenb for the prompt idea. Also crediting @sloanesallow for her headcanon about Sebastian keeping track of numbers.

(also sort of inspired by Unus Annus - iykyk - and Taylor Swift, if you couldn't guess by the title)

Tags: Angst, F!Reader POV (you), unreliable narrator, vague ship (Sebastian x reader/Ominis x reader), Sebastian was in love with you but never confessed, death, grief, ambiguous ending, overall the sads in general, I cried while writing this

AO3/Wattpad

It had been 279 days since you died.

At least, that’s what Sebastian tells you — your portrait, anyway. It was all that was left of you after the devastating battle you had fought and never walked away from. You hadn’t even known he’d had a portrait of you commissioned when you were alive until you woke up, your body cold, your face illuminated by the flickering candles of the Undercroft.

He comes to visit you every day — some days, he simply sits in front of you, cross-legged and silent. You creep into the frame and study him, the shadows on his face, a haunted look in his eye — unfamiliar. You can only recall a bright, talkative, charming boy with whom you were once close. You didn’t recognize him the first time he visited you, yet his presence brings you comfort.

On other days, you see traces of the boy he was before. He bursts in through the gate talking nonstop about everyone who misses you, about something he saw that you would have liked or that reminded him of you. Sometimes, he even brings you gifts and places them in front of your frame so you can admire them when he’s away.

That’s where he keeps you — hidden behind a wooden crate in the Undercroft like a sacred shrine, untouched by anyone but him. He only speaks with you when he is alone.

Another boy comes in on occasion, and you only know because of the sound of his voice and the pulsing red light of his wand that you can see from behind the pile of crates. Ominis, you remember Sebastian telling you, another friend from when you were alive. Sometimes they argue, other times they refuse to acknowledge each other. But Sebastian always keeps you tucked away, his own personal secret.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he sighs as he plops down in front of you. “300 days since you…well, since— ”

He could never bring himself to finish that sentence, even after almost a year. You never finish it for him.

“Are you going back to Feldcroft?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone. I couldn’t do that to you.”

You knew he probably hadn’t been back since that dreadful day. He had only spoken of it once to refresh your memory. He never brought it up again.

“Sebastian,” you say, and he perks up at the sound of his name leaving your painted lips, “how come you always hide me away when Ominis comes in? Doesn’t he want to talk to me, too?”

His eyes flash with something — anger, perhaps, it was hard to tell from your two-dimensional world — and he stands, approaching your portrait. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m only a portrait,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s not like you’ve been practicing necromancy.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say, but you don’t completely understand why. He turns away from you, fists clenched, shoulders tense and hunched over, before running his fingers through his hair and repeating himself more adamantly. “He wouldn’t understand.”

You remember him uttering a similar statement throughout your short life at Hogwarts — secrets that only the two of you shared, unbeknownst to Ominis until it was too late. “Surely he misses me, too— ”

“Did you love him?”

The question takes you by surprise, though you think it’s not the first time he’s asked it. “What?”

Sebastian whirls to face you, his gaze intense, demanding. “Did you love him? Or did you love me?”

Your portrait blinks, confused. Truthfully, you hadn’t been alive nearly long enough to confirm your feelings for either of them, but you knew that both boys had been important to you during your last few months of life. The portrait of you had only been a time capsule of your fifteen-year-old self — undecided and immature. You’re not even certain if the emotions you feel now are real or remnants of what you experienced when you were alive. “I…I cared deeply for both of you if that’s what you’re asking.”

Your answer nearly breaks him, as if he’s heard it a million times before. He tugs at his hair, the movement causing him to look frenzied and mad. “That’s not what I asked! Who did you — ”

“Sebastian?”

The voice of the intruder causes both of you to freeze. Sebastian pulls himself out from behind the crate and holds a finger to his lips before pushing it in front of you once more.

“Over here, Ominis.”

You hear footsteps and see the red glow of the other boy’s wand, then shuffling as Sebastian strategically places himself in front of the wooden box. The echoing footsteps grow closer, and you straighten at Ominis’s frantic tone as he speaks.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks. “I…I thought I heard…her.”

“No one else is here but me,” Sebastian says, guarded.

You can practically feel Ominis’s internal struggle to believe him. You decide that there have been enough secrets between the three of you — you’re not going to let it carry on post-mortem.

“Ominis? Is that you?” you call out. You hear Sebastian press his body against the crate in front of you. Ominis pushes past him, and they both tumble into it, knocking it over and exposing your portrait.

Chaos ensues at Ominis’s realization. The two boys are shouting at each other in front of you as you are helpless to stop them — Ominis, for having yet another secret kept from him, and Sebastian, for defending his reasonings. You aren’t sure if it’s because of jealousy, grief, or some combination of the two, but all you want is for the noise to stop.

You call out helplessly from your portrait, wishing you could step between them, just as you had done time and time again all those months ago. Before everything had gone so wrong.

Suddenly, hot, angry tears are pouring down both of their faces, and you are overcome with just how useless you are at this moment — a fragmented memory, trapped within the confines of your magical canvas. You want nothing more than to hug each of them, to let them feel your arms around them in comfort and take their pain away.

But you are gone.

The two boys now stand solemn and silent in front of you. Ominis takes a step closer, his wand hovering over your portrait before he runs his fingers along the gilded frame. “Is it…really you?”

“No.” You can hear the flatness in Sebastian’s voice, how tired and worn he truly is. He repeats exactly what you thought only moments before as if to confirm it. “She hardly remembers what happened, or even who we are. She’s just a fragment. A memory.”

You want to argue that it is you, but you know that he’s right. You barely remembered your living self until Sebastian explained everything to you on his daily visits. Whispers of your personality still shine through on occasion, but you are otherwise simply existing.

Ominis sighs, and you can hear the weight behind it, as if he had been holding his breath and finally allowed himself to release it. He traces his fingers along the divots of the frame once more, and you try to will yourself to feel it.

The two boys exchange an unspoken conversation that thickens the tension in the air. They seem to come to an agreement, and you let out a small breath — if you can call it that — of relief when they sit down in front of you and appear to bask in your presence. You stay quiet and allow them this moment — it’s the only thing you can do.

The days that follow are the same. No longer is Sebastian coming in alone for covert meetings with your portrait. Now, you see both Sebastian and Ominis at the same time every single day, a religious appointment that they’ve set aside just for you. They take turns talking to you, even if they can only manage a few words, and you learn to appreciate their company, knowing that you were loved by both of them in life.

Just like old times, Sebastian says, and the three of you laugh.

Christmas approaches quickly, or that’s what they say when they come to visit a short while later. They bring your favorite things from when you were alive — chocolate frogs, flowers, even books, which Sebastian reads to you — and they tell you stories about you and the kind of person they knew you to be. You wonder if it’s true, or if they have created an idealistic image of you since you are no longer there with them. Not really.

Kind, they say that you were, thoughtful, loving, self-sacrificial, and maybe a bit idealistic. You were friends with both of them, after all, the mischievous pair that they were, before everything was taken away from them, before life was unfair. They try to smile for you and remind you that Christmas at the castle is a time for celebration, but you can tell that it’s a weak facade.

You smile back at them anyway.

The anniversary of your death approaches. Neither of them can bring themselves to say anything, aside from a few words to honor you. So the three of you sit in tearful silence, admiring the flowers that they decorated your portrait with. You think you can almost smell the sweet aroma of the bouquets.

Something changes in the air — you can sense it — though you aren’t sure what. You notice it when their visits become shorter, with fewer stories to tell, and fewer presents left in front of your frame. Sebastian and Ominis start showing up at separate times, stopping in for a brief hello before leaving with an excuse. You start to wonder what they are doing when they are gone, but you are unable to leave your frame — only one portrait of you was ever commissioned.

Soon, they start missing days, returning at a later time with profuse apologies about how life was busy, but they still miss you. Difficult classes, detention, studying for NEWTs, and preparing for a career — all of these seem to take precedence over you. But they still manage to make time in all of the hectic day-to-day activities, and you look forward to the days when they do come.

You wake up one morning and realize you are in a different location — Feldcroft, most likely, though you hadn’t seen it since that fateful day. Sebastian hangs your frame up on the wall, promising that he and Ominis will come to visit you more often now that they have graduated.

They don’t.

The length of time in between seeing them grows longer, you’re certain of it. Each time one of them arrives, they look a little bit different — sometimes they have longer hair, other times a bit of scruff around their chins, but they always come in looking more weathered than they had when you last saw them.

You realize that they are doing something that you will never again be able to join them in — growing older. You start to wonder about their lives outside of you, yet your painted mind cannot comprehend what an adult life looks like, forever frozen in your adolescent state. You find that you are unable to relate to any of their stories, and they seem to be holding back in what they choose to share.

I wish you were still here, they always say before they go, and you start to wonder if they mean it.

At long last, the visits from your once two closest friends become scarce, and you aren’t certain how much time has passed since someone last spoke to you. The bright flowers that once decorated your golden frame wither and die, and the little gifts they used to leave stay untouched and unopened. The tiny cottage in Feldcroft becomes a sepulcher of your essence — a permanent reminder that you are no longer among the living.

You can’t help but wonder if it was something you did, if their reasons for not returning were your fault. You can feel the stories that they used to tell you fading away, unable to retain the memories in your current form.

You decide that it’s time to rest.

In the quiet house, just south of Hogwarts, your portrait closes its eyes. You do not wake again.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

This Is How It Starts

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC) (And some temporary Andrew Larson x Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+, MDNI (shameless smut, profanity), all characters are 18+ Words: 10,402 Themes: friends to lovers, sexual tension, sexual frustration, shitty boyfriends

Summary: You're going absolutely, utterly mental. Your boyfriend, Andrew Larson, hasn't touched you in weeks and you're growing desperate. When he's unwilling to help relieve your sexual tension, your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, always has your back.

Notes: This one's mainly just some shameless smut. Characters are 18-year-old seventh years. Reader is female MC. Inspired by "Sex" by The 1975.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

You blew a puff of air upward, hoping it would release the strand of hair that was currently plastered to your face. Sweat trickled from your hairline, over your temples and down your neck until it disappeared beneath your shirt collar.

It was abnormally hot outside, but there was no chance you were going to miss the quidditch final. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, a rivalry that promised a match for the ages – not to mention your very best friend was a Slytherin beater.

“Get him, Seb!” you screamed as your best friend whizzed overhead in pursuit of a bludger. Slytherin had a 40-point lead and the match was approaching its second hour of play. Gryffindor was holding its own, but its players were clearly growing weary against Slytherin’s physical and aggressive style of play. If the Slytherin seeker could just catch that damn snitch, the party could start.

Suddenly, the Slytherin seeker initiated a sharp nose dive and you screamed in encouragement. She hurtled toward the ground, two Gryffindors tailing close behind in an attempt to knock her off course. Their desperation was palpable and you feared they might knock her off her broom if she got too close to the snitch.

Sebastian was attempting to corral another bludger. You watched nervously as his eyes narrowed in concentration, his bat raised until he connected it with the bludger. It careened toward the Gryffindors, forcing them to abandon their path.

“Yes, go, go, go!” you screamed so loud, Ominis Gaunt had to cover his ears from his seat next to you. You had dragged the poor boy along to the match, despite his incessant reminders that he would be unable to see any of the action. But he was the other third of your trio and the undeniable glue that held you and Sebastian together, so you convinced him that Sebastian deserved both of your support that day.

“Go, Alice, go!” you screamed at the seeker, silently praying your housemate would come through for Slytherin. She inched closer and closer to the ground, her fist closing around the snitch with about five feet to spare.

The stadium erupted in a frenzy. You grabbed Ominis by the head, hugging him to your chest as you screamed and bounced in elation. He squawked in protest, but even he couldn’t conceal the smile that had formed across his lips.

The Slytherin team descended to the center of the quidditch pitch until they piled up in a massive group hug. You laughed as you spotted Sebastian at the bottom of the pile, his grin clear even from your seats high up in the stands.

Headmaster Black strode to the center of the pitch with Madam Kogawa carrying the quidditch cup close behind. Professor Sharp met them and motioned for the Slytherin team to gather around, where he presented them with the cup.

The Slytherins in the stands roared with applause and you whistled as loud as you could, drawing another annoyed glance from Ominis.

“Come on, let’s get down there!” you said, tugging on the sleeve of Ominis’ robe. 

“Yes, mother,” he sighed as he drew his wand, its red tip guiding him as you pulled him through the sea of students.

Once you reached the bottom of the staircase, your eyes scanned the grounds in search of Sebastian. Sad and angry Gryffindors shoved past you, coaxing a laugh from you as you continued toward the center of the pitch. Finally, you spotted Sebastian engaged in an animated chat with Imelda Reyes, who was smiling smugly while the rest of their team continued to celebrate with the cup hoisted into the air.

“Sebastian!” you screeched as you launched yourself toward the boy. You threw your arms around him and leapt, your legs wrapping around his torso as he stumbled backward to brace his balance. “You did it!” you practically screamed in his face. You hugged him tightly as more bodies clad in green flooded onto the pitch.

Sebastian offered you a goofy grin as he supported your weight, his arms squeezing you tightly so you wouldn’t slip.

“That boyfriend of yours is going to kill me,” he murmured in your ear. You drew backward slightly to give him a pointed look.

“You and I both know you’d demolish him in a duel,” you said. 

“Can’t argue with that,” Sebastian said with a shrug. He set you on your feet and draped an arm around your shoulder. “I’m going to get cleaned up and changed. See you at the after party?”

“I’ve got a bottle of firewhiskey with your name on it.”

You skipped off to find Ominis again, but were instead met by your boyfriend. He was leaning against the entrance archway of the pitch, his arms crossed as his stare followed you. You sighed to yourself and begrudgingly trudged toward him.

“Hey,” you said, your tone much more feeble compared to the shouting and squealing you’d done moments ago.

“Hey.” You could tell he was cross with you from the way his jaw clenched, though his eyes were calm and cool.

“Some match, huh?” you said cheerily, hoping you could bring his mood up rather than the opposite.

“Sure was.”

He was clearly in no mood to discuss quidditch, so you slipped your arm through his. “You okay?” you asked.

“I was until I saw you and Sallow.”

“Andrew,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping in frustration. “I’ve told you a million times, it’s not like that with Sebastian.”

“And I’ve told you a million times that I’m not comfortable with the way you two egg each other on,” Andrew replied hotly. “The way you two carry on is improper and it’s disrespectful to me. His reputation is going to ruin yours.”

Sebastian was a known flirt who had earned a reputation for his extracurricular activities with half of the girls who attended Hogwarts. He didn’t have girlfriends, though, and you secretly wondered if he’d ever settle down. As a result, your friendship with Sebastian had endured its fair share of rumors and speculation as people wondered if you’d ever venture past the threshold of platonic kindred spirits. 

“We’re just friends,” you tried, but Andrew glared to cut you off.

“Yes, I get it,” he snapped. “You, Sallow and Gaunt, Slytherin’s special little trio. But you’re my girlfriend.”

“You’re right,” you sighed, already tired of fighting. You didn’t want Andrew to feel slighted by you. If the tables were turned and some girl was climbing all over him, you knew you wouldn’t like it. 

But you and Andrew were vastly different. You were bolder, more outspoken and adventurous. Hell, you were the hero of Hogwarts two years ago when you saved the school from Ranrok. 

Andrew was more studious and reserved, a true Ravenclaw. Professors liked him, but for reasons that differed from the way they liked you. You were creative and savvy when it came to magic, whereas Andrew boasted the kind of intelligence that manifested in the form of logic and reason.

When you first started dating Andrew, Ominis and Sebastian laughed at you. They teased you like brothers, poking fun at your new boyfriend.

“Has he even been in a duel, ever?” Sebastian had chortled.

“And isn’t he friends with Puffskein Duncan?” Ominis added.

You chided them for their judgment and teasing, but Ominis, ever the prim and proper gentleman, later pulled you aside to tell you he was happy for you. He said Andrew was smart and would take good care of you, to which you snorted and reminded Ominis this was merely a teenage romance. You couldn’t see yourself invested in anything long-term with Andrew and were merely interested to see where your relationship would lead.

When you mentioned this to Sebastian in passing one morning as the two of you lounged in the Slytherin Common Room, he snickered.

���So Larson’s too dry to earn any consideration for a long-term commitment?” he mused.

"I've used Crucio on you before. Don't think I won't do it again," you warned.

"I'm just saying! Seems like he's a giant waste of time."

You huffed at him in annoyance. “While he and I likely won’t make it beyond Hogwarts, I’d appreciate it if you’d at least respect our relationship for its duration,” you scolded. 

“The only thing I respect about Larson is that he somehow managed to finesse the school’s most eligible bachelorette into dating him,” Sebastian quipped. You rolled your eyes and hit him with a sofa cushion. “But seriously, what do you see in him?”

“He’s… smart,” you replied, which merely provoked a menacing laugh from Sebastian.

“Smart,” he repeated blankly.

“And he’s creative,” you continued. “And handsome.”

“What exactly do the two of you even talk about?” Sebastian asked, leaning forward curiously. “I mean, you’re complete opposites. What do you have in common?”

He wasn’t wrong. Most students were quick to point out that you and Andrew were an unlikely pair when you began dating. But you were attracted to Andrew. He was tall and handsome with an assured smile and composure.

“Opposites attract,” you quipped. “Some balance is good every now and then.” You weren’t sure you actually believed that statement, but you were going to pretend for now.

That was six months ago and now, the inevitable end to your Hogwarts days was approaching. You and Andrew hadn’t discussed your future as a couple, but you weren’t in any rush to do so – especially since you hardly felt like a couple these days.

The upcoming N.E.W.T.s had taken priority for all seventh years. Even Sebastian had been spending an uncharacteristic amount of time studying in the Undercroft. The two of you both aspired to be curse breakers, but the most coveted positions – curse breaking for Gringotts – were limited to two.

You were a shoo-in for one of the spots, given your famed history and experience. All you needed to do was score high on your N.E.W.T.s, which you were confident you’d ace. Sebastian should have been a certain choice for Gringotts as well, but he couldn’t exactly reveal all of the research and hands-on experience he had gained while trying to reverse Anne’s curse during his fifth year without raising suspicion. 

“Are you coming to the Slytherin victory party?” you finally asked Andrew, hoping your innocent upward gaze would soften his mood.

Instead, he blinked at you. “I’m a Ravenclaw,” he deadpanned. 

The evening sky was growing darker, and you knew the celebration would be underway soon. The dinner hour in the Great Hall had nearly passed, but there would be a plethora of sweets and snacks to indulge in at the party. You were eager for an evening of frivolity with your friends, as you knew your time with them was limited.

“But you’re invited to the party if you’re with me,” you said hopefully. “You can come and stay just for a bit.”

“A Slytherin celebration has detention written all over it. I was hoping you’d join me on the Astronomy Tower instead.”

Normally, you’d die before missing a single second of a Slytherin party, especially one to celebrate a quidditch cup victory. But the party was sure to continue late into the night, meaning you’d likely have time to enjoy it later.

A trip to the Astronomy Tower was much more important now, not because you gave a flying fuck about stargazing, but because you could get laid.

It’d been weeks since Andrew had touched you, and you were becoming a restless, coiled, ticking time bomb. You were an 18-year-old with wants and needs, but your stupid boyfriend had been more concerned with his N.E.W.T.s than sex as of late.

The Astronomy Tower was a common spot for romantic rendezvous, particularly for students in separate houses. You and Andrew had frequented it much more at the start of your relationship until you introduced him to the privacy of the Room of Requirement, but some nostalgia for the sake of sex was too appealing to reject.

“That sounds nice,” you said carefully, your grip giving Andrew’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’d love that.”

“Good,” Andrew said with a firm nod. “Shall we head there now?”

“Yes, please.” You allowed him to steer you from the quidditch stadium and back toward the castle. Clusters of students laughed and chattered around you, and you occasionally paused your route to the Astronomy Tower to discuss the events of the quidditch match with them.

As you stopped to say hello to Arthur Plummly, Andrew grunted in annoyance. He was clearly tired of waiting on you to finish socializing, so you merely waved to Arthur and continued to the Astronomy Wing. Perhaps Andrew was just as eager as you to relieve some year-end tension. The thought made heat rise through your body, flushing your cheeks.

The tower was quiet as most students were either celebrating Slytherin’s victory or licking their wounds in defeat. Once you reached the upper level and confirmed you and Andrew were alone, you grinned at him. You were already aching between your legs, desperate to be touched by someone other than yourself.

The air was much cooler at such a high point, the breeze drifting through the tower and its vacant telescopes. You shed your school robe and turned to Andrew to reach for his, gripping the front in earnest as you pulled him into a kiss. You kissed him hungrily as you stepped toward him, pressing your hips against his.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, craning his neck to break the kiss. You froze and rocked from your toes back down to your heels as you released his robes.

“What do you mean?” you asked stupidly. “I thought you wanted to-”

“No, not tonight, love.” His tone was gentle but you could see the irritation in his eyes. “I actually need to stargaze. I want to be sure I can identify Lyra in case it’s on the exam.”

You sucked on your top row of teeth to stop yourself from screaming in frustration.

“Can’t it wait, just a quick twenty minutes?” you asked.

“No, love. I’ve got to get this done.”

You knew there was no changing his mind, not that you wanted to at this point. The anticipation and desire you felt earlier had extinguished, now replaced by a sense of rejection.

“All right,” you sighed, stooping down to pick up your house robe. “I guess I’ll head to the party then. See you at breakfast?”

Andrew pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and smiled at you. “Goodnight, love.”

The trek down to the dungeons was cold and lonely. You weren’t used to rejection, but it had become a common occurrence from Andrew in recent weeks. It made you wonder if there was something wrong with you, that something had changed to make Andrew no longer lust after you. 

You hadn’t changed much physically since the start of your seventh year. If anything, certain physical attributes had improved, at least in your opinion – and the opinion of the Hogwarts male population. Your chest had filled out nicely and your curves were more evident now. If Andrew no longer found you attractive, it surely wasn’t your fault, right?

You didn’t have long to brood, though. As you neared the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, you could feel the pulse of music vibrating through the stone walls. You smirked to yourself, ready to forget about your vapid excuse for a boyfriend for the evening.

“There you are!” Sebastian spotted you instantly as you entered the Common Room.

“There you are!” you laughed as you took in his appearance. His hair was more tousled than ever and he was holding a bottle of firewhiskey in each hand. 

“Where’ve you been?” he demanded as he ushered you further into the room. “Nevermind that. Let’s get you a drink. Who has the firewhiskey?” he called out.

“Sebastian,” you snorted. “You have it.”

“Oh. Right. Well let’s get you a glass then.”

One glass quickly turned into three, and you eventually lost count by the end of the night. Students from other houses came and went, and you enjoyed the presence of your friends and classmates.

Sebastian was the life of the party, per usual. He’d periodically disrupt the music and laughter to climb on top of a study table, his glass raised in a ridiculous toast.

“To Chinese chomping cabbages!” he declared during one toast.

“To Professor Ronen’s beard!” he said during another. Each toast was followed by a roar of agreement from the crowd, no matter how absurd, which Sebastian reveled in with glee.

You laughed through it all, especially when Ominis, who had been lurking in a corner of the Common Room as an innocent bystander, was pushed toward Imelda Reyes to dance. By their third dance, you could feel Sebastian looming behind you as he watched Ominis with delight. 

“Someone ought to rescue him,” he said in your ear. “It’s not going to be me, but someone should eventually.”

“I don’t know, he seems to be enjoying himself,” you mused. “I think I’ll take a night off from saving our poor friend from social expectations.”

Sebastian snickered and sauntered off. Your eyes followed him as he stumbled toward the stairs. You followed after him, your own inebriation stalling you as you steadied yourself.

“Sebastian!” you called after him. He spun to peer down at you as he reached the top of the steps. “Where are you going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared toward the dormitories. You scurried after him and watched as he slipped into his dorm room. 

“Bailing on the party?” you asked as you shoved your way through the door. You’d been in that dorm numerous times, so the sight of unmade beds, cluttered desks and piles of books didn’t faze you as you sat on the bed next to Sebastian, who had flopped backward with his arms resting lazily behind his head.

“I’m tired,” he declared, his eyes watching you carefully. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a quidditch hero.”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Alice was the one who caught the snitch,” you pointed out.

“Ah, but she wouldn’t have reached it if it hadn’t been for my bludger,” Sebastian said proudly. You couldn’t argue with that. Instead, you rested back on your elbows, your legs dangling off the side of the bed.

Sebastian’s eyes fluttered shut and you studied him for a quiet moment. Your best friend was devilishly handsome. Though he maintained his boyish charm, he was certainly not the same kid you met at age fifteen. Now, Sebastian was tall and broad-shouldered, toned and sturdy, much more of a man than a boy.

“Want me to let you get some sleep?” you asked. 

“No, stay. I’m just resting my eyes. I’ll get a second wind eventually.”

“Sebastian, it’s after midnight.”

“Time is a social construct,” came his quick reply. You snorted and shifted your gaze to the remainder of the room. You spotted Ominis’ bed, the only one neatly made, its curtains drawn shut. As you found yourself wondering what else went on in this room, you failed to notice Sebastian’s stare.

“So where were you anyway?”

You turned to look at Sebastian, who had one eye open. 

“What do you mean?”

“You showed up late to the party.”

You heaved a sigh as the source of your less-than-ideal evening returned to the forefront of your mind. “I was with Andrew.”

“Ah. A quick little escapade before the party.”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” you said with a bitter laugh. 

“Oh? It couldn’t have taken that long. You were late, but only by a half-hour or so.”

“Were you keeping track of time?”

“More like I was keeping track of you.”

You rolled your eyes. Sebastian, ever the protector. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you noted. “But we went up to the Astronomy Tower.”

Sebastian blinked in confusion. “But I thought you said you weren't hooking up.”

You groaned in annoyance. Though you and Sebastian were open books with one another, you didn’t feel very compelled to share the intimate details of your sex life – or lack thereof – with your best friend. Sure, you talked about sex, but the topic felt a bit more suggestive when you were alone on Sebastian's bed describing your own boyfriend's disinterest. 

But the tension you’d been carrying for weeks was mounting, and before you could stop yourself, you said, “It wasn’t anything. Andrew and I haven’t… done that in weeks.”

That had Sebastian’s attention. His other eye popped open and he sat up, not bothering to mask his curious gaze.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

You exhaled slowly, averting your eyes to the dark wood floor. “Andrew hasn’t touched me in weeks.”

“And by touched, you mean…”

You whipped your body around, the sudden movement causing Sebastian to flinch as you stared directly into his eyes.

“My boyfriend. Won’t. Fuck me,” you said slowly and deliberately.

Sebastian gaped at you. It was clear he was at a loss for words, and if you hadn’t been the center of the discussion, you likely would have laughed at his dumbfounded expression.

“Well, what’s wrong with him?” Sebastian asked.

“He’s too focused on his N.E.W.T.s. He just wants to study constantly.”

“With all due respect, I’ve been pretty well focused on studying too,” Sebastian said. “But that hasn’t stopped me from enjoying myself.”

“Yeah well, that makes one of us,” you muttered.

“But you’ve… you’ve tried to- to fuck him, right?” Sebastian asked.

“Of course, I have!” you snapped, instantly horrified by your tense response. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

Sebastian, however, flashed his canines in amusement. “Merlin, Larson really does have you worked into a tight little knot,” he mused.

“It’s not funny!” you groaned as you buried your face in your hands in misery.

"You’re right, it’s not,” Sebastian said, though you could still hear traces of a teasing tone in his voice.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you faster than you killed Solomon,” you hissed.

Sebastian barked a laugh. “I promise to tell no one,” he said. “But you really ought to take care of your… unfortunate situation. All that sexual tension is turning you rather violent.”

“Don’t you think I’d do something if I could?” 

“Well, have you, you know, taken care of it by yourself?”

“Sebastian,” you warned, warmth creeping up the back of your neck.

“I’m just saying. I doubt you’d let anyone else assist you. Use your hands.”

“These hands are going to strangle you if you don’t shut up.”

“I could only be so lucky.”

“Sebastian!”

“Why don’t you just break up with him?”

“What?”

“You said it yourself, it was just meant to be a teenage romance,” Sebastian reminded you. “But you’re an adult now. Maybe you need a more adultlike relationship with someone who’s a little more willing to satiate your adult needs.”

“Say adult one more fucking time.”

“Adult.” You threw a pillow at him and he chortled. “But seriously,” Sebastian continued. “Why are you still with him?”

“Because it’s complicated,” you sighed. “I really do care for him. I can’t break up with him just because we’ve hit a rough patch.”

“Rough patch? Darling, this is a full-blown pit of Venomous Tentacula.”

“Easy for you to say, considering you’ve never had a serious relationship in your entire life,” you sneered.

Sebastian merely shrugged. “No one worth the time and effort has become available to me,” he said.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m not the one refusing to fuck you because I’m fretting over some stupid exams.”

The mere notion of having sex with Sebastian made your stomach flip. He was the one boy who appeared wholly unaffected by your looks and charm, though the same could be said vice-versa. 

You hid your attraction to Sebastian well, suppressed in a secret, dark place, deeper than any repository. The only time it ever surfaced was when you were alone in bed at night, your fingers relieving yourself while your mind fantasized over the one person you couldn’t have.

“Even if I did break up with him, I’d have to start all over,” you noted. “I’d have to find someone else to get me off.”

Sebastian let out a silly laugh that almost sounded like a giggle. “Darling, please,” he deadpanned. “Like you’d have any trouble finding someone to fuck you. You could step into the Common Room right now and there’d be a line out the door.”

“You make it sound like I’m the biggest tramp to trapeze through Hogwarts,” you muttered.

“No, that award goes to Imelda.”

“Besides, I’m sure everything will return to normal soon,” you continued, hoping your tone sounded more assured than miserable. 

Sebastian eyed you quietly, which made you shift nervously on your spot on the side of the bed. The sexually charged conversation had you hot and bothered, suddenly eager to return to your own dorm room. “Hopefully, for your sake,” he finally yawned. “But Larson clearly doesn’t realize how ignorant he is. If it were me, you’d barely be able to walk anymore.”

“Sebastian!”

---

The spring air should have met your senses with peace and placidity. It was a week later and most of the Hogwarts student body was taking advantage of the weather.

Students were scattered across the castle and its outdoor areas; some lounged lazily in the courtyards while others stretched across the grass at the center of the quidditch pitch. 

You wanted to join them, but for some abhorrent reason, you were currently sitting inside the library of all places. It was hot and stuffy in there, the scent of the books and their aging pages filling your nostrils when you should have been outside enjoying the scent of the blooming flowers or the handfuls of bubblegum you’d purchased from Honeyduke’s.

But no, you were presently leaning with your elbows on one of the library’s long tables, pouting as you watched Andrew study. The two of you were nearly the only ones in the entire place, save for a few of the more recluse and antisocial students who would probably disintegrate in the sunlight anyway. 

Your gaze fell on one boy – you forgot his name – who was hours deep into a Potions book. He was thin and pale, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was a vampire. The thought made you snort, which provoked a glare from Andrew.

You huffed a sigh as he returned to his reading. You studied him quietly and couldn’t help but smirk with lust.

Even though you were currently annoyed with him and his insistence on being a bookworm, he was so undoubtedly handsome. His sandy brown hair was parted to the side, his pretty green eyes darting across the lines of his Transfiguration book. His tall frame was currently hunched over the table, but when he sat back in his chair, his broad shoulders would rise and his long legs would stretch beneath the table.

Every so often, his brows would furrow as he mulled over the prose on the page, or he’d subconsciously chew at his bottom lip in an adorable way that made you want to climb him like a tree.

Watching him focus his attention on anything but you made you fidget and squirm. He still hadn’t touched you in weeks.

Of course, you understood that your Ravenclaw boyfriend was fixated on his studies. You took your education seriously, too, but you also recognized the importance of some self-care. A 20-minute study break to indulge in some sex wouldn’t kill you. Another day without it, however, just might.

You squeezed your thighs together, but the pressure only escalated the ache between them. You tried crossing and uncrossing your legs, but thoughts of something, anything, anyone between them were starting to consume you. 

You decided to take matters into your own hands. Surely you could turn on the charm and tempt Andrew now, in the dimly lit ambience of the quiet library. Most boys in the school would die to be in his shoes. How could he possibly resist you after weeks of abstaining? 

You leaned forward in your chair, your lips puffed out in a slight pout as you dipped your head just enough that you had to gaze upward at him with flirtatious eyes. You offered Andrew your best doe-eyed stare as you used the top of your foot to gently nudge his leg beneath the table.

He didn’t seem to notice at first, so you shifted in your seat to lean backward, puffing your chest out in hopes he’d be turned on by your breasts. The fabric of your blouse stretched taut over them, tightening as you stretched your shoulders. Your foot inched higher up his leg until you slowly dragged it downward again.

Still no response. It was absolutely maddening. Finally, you leaned forward again, your hand finding Andrew’s knee beneath the table. Your eyes swept the room to ensure Madam Scribner was nowhere in sight, your hand creeping up Andrew’s thigh until it met his groin. You slowly ran your palm over his crotch, hoping to stir his arousal.

Instead, he jerked his head up, the chair scraping loudly across the wood floor as he pushed backward from the table.

“What are you doing?” he hissed angrily.

You blinked in disbelief. Other boys would have finished in their own pants by now, but your own boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to even entertain your desires.

“Fine,” you said, pushing your own chair backward as you stood, your eyes narrowed at Andrew. “I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands. Or someone else’s.”

“What does that mean?” Andrew demanded. Your voices were rising and others were looking on in annoyance at the interruption.

“It means that if you aren’t going to fuck me, I’ll find someone who will,” you hissed bluntly. Andrew gaped at your lack of propriety, but you had no interest in pretending to be concerned for your image. “See you later.”

You stormed out of the library just as Madam Scribner surfaced to shush you. You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, making a beeline for the nearest castle exit.

Sunlight spilled across the Hogwarts grounds and you closed your eyes to appreciate its warmth. It spread across your skin, its heat exacerbating the fire that was ripping through your insides.

You weren’t actually on the hunt for the first male who would be willing to fuck. Even at your most feral, you had a little more dignity than that. You could relieve yourself of the tension in your core in private soon enough, but right now, you simply needed to get it all off your chest. You needed Sebastian.

But where was he?

He could be anywhere on a warm Saturday like this. Sometimes he liked to fly around the Highlands. Other times, he could be found socializing in the courtyard or in search of someone to duel… The Clock Tower. He had to be there.

You made a beeline for the Clock Tower Entrance and silently celebrated the familiar sight of Sebastian embattled in a friendly duel. You leaned against the archway as you watched him make quick work of Leander Prewett, ending the duel with a well-timed Expulso that sent Leander sprawling.

“Nice work,” you quipped as the duel ended and students began to disperse from the Clock Tower.

“Nothing to it,” Sebastian said as he pocketed his wand. He eyed your appearance and frowned. “What are you doing here? I thought you retired from Crossed Wands since no one could beat you?”

“Don’t fret, I’m still retired. I was looking for you.”

“At your service, darling. What’s up?”

You glanced around the room, where Lucan Brattleby was engaged in conversation with Nerida Roberts. “Not here,” you said. “Follow me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You led Sebastian by the hand inside the castle, your pace so quick he had to jog to keep up with you.

“Where are you going?” he demanded as you continued past the path to the Undercroft.

“Someplace private,” you answered simply.

“But the Under-”

“Someplace even more private.”

Finally, Sebastian understood. Besides Andrew, he was the only person you’d taken to the Room of Requirement, where the two of you occasionally brewed your own potions or provided Ominis with a break from your antics. You knew curiosity was clawing away at him, and your own impatience made you hasten your steps until you were at a full run. 

Sebastian chased after you, question after question spilling from his mouth as he scrambled to keep up. It was all so ridiculous, you couldn’t help but laugh as you sprinted through the castle’s halls together until you reached the stairwell toward the Room of Requirement.

“Slow down!” Sebastian laughed as you continued up the stairs. Your legs burned by the time you reached the top, but you said nothing as you approached the Room of Requirement, its entrance making way for you per usual.

“Been a while since I’ve been in here,” Sebastian said as he gazed around the room. He followed you to the sofas tucked away in the side room, where he promptly sat down and made himself comfortable. You, however, continued to pace back and forth in front of him.

You felt like a fucking cat in heat. Your mind raced at the argument you’d just had with Andrew. Was that your breakup? You couldn’t even be sure, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to care. The fact that Andrew didn’t chase after you when you left the library spoke volumes. And the fact that all you wanted was to dig your nails into Sebastian’s back and scream his name was probably the clearest indication that your relationship was over.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked, his eyes weighted with concern as he watched you pace.

“Andrew,” was the best answer you could provide.

Sebastian’s eyes darkened with a familiarity you’d learned to recognize over the past three years. It was a clash of protectiveness and vigilance. “What did he do?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” you breathed hastily in an attempt to keep him calm. The last thing you needed was your best friend to hex your boyfriend, even if he was your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. “He just… we got into an argument in the library and I stormed out.”

“What were you arguing about?”

You hovered in front of a bookcase against the wall, unsure how to broach the subject. This was Sebastian, the boy who never judged you. He was your best friend and closest confidant. He had your back unconditionally and shared your darkest secrets. How could something as unprofound as sex be such a taboo topic?

“He still won’t have sex with me,” you finally blurted out. Sebastian’s eyes widened at your revelation. Sure, the two of you had just discussed it a week prior, but that was when you were both drunk, riding the high of a post-party haze. “I can’t take it anymore,” you continued. “It isn’t fair.”

Sebastian’s smirk returned and you made a silent vow to hex him into oblivion if he dared to laugh at you.

“You’re right, it isn’t fair,” he said sincerely. “Darling, please tell me you broke up with the sorry excuse of a lad.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I told him…” you huffed in embarrassment. “I told him if he wouldn’t fuck me, I’d find someone who would.”

The laughter that escaped Sebastian’s lips was borderline alarming. He hunched over and clutched his sides until he had to catch his breath.

“Merlin, you really are a horny little minx, aren’t you?” he grinned.

“It’s not funny!”

“You’re right, it’s not. Except-” he chuckled. “–Except it is rather comical to think about the hero of Hogwarts and the desire of every boy in the school stomping around and throwing a tantrum because her sad excuse of a boyfriend can’t make her come.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head from his audacity. “Sebastian!” you chided.

“Don’t get cross with me!” Sebastian said, throwing his hands up. “I would never leave you unsatisfied.”  

You inhaled sharply through your nostrils. His words seemed to cloud overhead, daring you to take the bait. He sat back smugly, but you could see the uncertainty in his eyes as he waited for your reaction.

You swallowed in preparation. For nearly three years, the two of you had danced around the obvious; the whispers of “Will they or won’t they?” and the ceaseless rumors about all the things the two of you had or hadn’t done; the sexual tension that made you both straighten in your seats every time someone else dared to suggest you were more than friends; the anguishing questions you both never asked in fear of knowing the answers.

The truth was, the root of your sexual tension had very little to do with Andrew Larson. It had damn near everything to do with Sebastian Sallow.

Graduation was approaching and you had no idea what would become of your friendship. Sebastian and Ominis were set to move to London as roommates, and you had plans to do the same with Natsai. But adulthood would be different. You and Sebastian wouldn’t be a mere common room apart. And there’d be new people, new friends, new opportunities. The ache between your thighs was far deeper than the desire to know what it’d be like to be fucked by Sebastian Sallow; it was the desperate longing for a more permanent place in his life.

“Prove it,” you finally said, feigning confidence as you dared to look him in the eye.

Finally, you had managed to catch Sebastian off guard. All of these years of teasing banter and suggestive innuendo, and you finally had him pinned against a wall of astonishment. He hadn’t expected you to give in, especially in a way that managed to challenge him.

He gaped at you, a rare deviation from his typical air of self-assuredness. Your gaze remained fixated on him, cool yet inquisitive, ready to see if he’d put his money where his mouth is.

“Wait,” he finally said. “You… you really want to?”

“Why not? You’ve always been able to help me through every other trial and tribulation. Why not this one? Unless the rumors aren’t true.” You were toeing dangerous territory, teasing him while knowing damn well he’d gladly punish you for it.

“Oh, they’re true.” He couldn’t help himself. He always rose to a challenge, and you knew he’d rise to this one. But his eyes weren’t smug or even confident. They looked concerned. “So just to be sure,” he continued slowly. “You want me to… to fuck you.”

“Yes.” It was then that you realized how your chest had been heaving with every breath, a blend of nerves and lust you weren’t sure you’d overcome if you were denied again.

And to your absolute horror, Sebastian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It knocked the wind from you, causing the room to whirl as you searched your brain for an escape. But then Sebastian looked up at you again, and the sincerity in his eyes kept you rooted to the spot.

“Look,” he said after drawing a shaky breath. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend like I don’t spend every bit of my free time imagining what it’d be like to feel you absolutely and utterly fall apart beneath me. I spend a shameful amount of time thinking about you in ways that would positively make you want to hex me in the same way I’ve thought about hexing Larson. But you… you’re everything to me. I can’t lose you.”

What a day it had been. You entered the Room of Requirement prepared to beg your best friend to absolutely ruin you. Instead, he was confessing his love for you.

You couldn’t help but release a shaky laugh. It wasn’t the romantic declaration you wanted to respond with, but it was the most fitting and accurate reaction to such an idiotic situation.

“You mean to tell me,” you said slowly, your voice still wavering with disbelief, “That I could have been fucking you this entire time?”

It clearly wasn’t the response Sebastian had expected, because his eyes seemed to search you for confirmation, as if he was waiting for you to laugh or reveal the scene to be some kind of twisted prank. But when you maintained your serious gaze, he grinned in disbelief.

“I didn’t realize the feeling was mutual,” he said.

“Merlin, you fucking idiot,” you hissed. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Oh, sure, because it would be that simple! I’d just waltz on up to you in the middle of dinner and tell you I’m in love with you,” Sebastian said incredulously. “Besides, you have a boyfriend anyway!” 

“I wouldn’t have that boyfriend if you’d told me! Besides, you seem perfectly pleased to fuck every other girl in the school!”

“Only because I couldn’t have the one I wanted!” The absurdity of it all made you dizzy and Sebastian sat back on the sofa looking dazed. “So what are you going to do now?” he asked.

You didn’t need long to decide. It had clearly been a day for bold declarations and daring acts. Why not keep the trend going? You decided you were going to get what you wanted.

“I’m going to fuck you until I’m satisfied, and then I’m going to go break up with my boyfriend for good.”

Before you could give Sebastian a chance to overthink another damn thing, you were on him, your legs straddling him as you mounted his lap and greedily grasped at his necktie. Your first kiss was a stunning reflection of the two of you – passionate and unrefined, not to mention stubborn as you both refused to be the first to pull away.

Finally, you relented, panting as you paused to gaze at Sebastian. You couldn’t help but snort at how positively elated he looked.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” you laughed.

“Funny, you’re the one who seems so desperate to be fucked,” he replied smoothly. It made you even hornier.

“So be a man of your word then,” you whispered. Your lips crushed against his again and you couldn’t help but rock your hips, the feeling of his erection beneath you stealing the air from your lungs. You shifted so that you could feel his hard length against your clothed entrance and it made you whimper in desperation. The heat was overwhelming.

Sebastian smirked. “You’re absolutely done for, you know that, right?”

“Shut up.” You yanked at his tie for good measure, your fingers working to loosen the knot as your core remained pressed against the bulge in Sebastian’s pants. The way his breaths became ragged indicated he would be just as ruined as you by the time you left that room – if you ever left.

Sebastian’s sweater and shirt followed his tie as you addressed every stupid little button. By the time you reached the bottom, you huffed with annoyance that was short-lived once Sebastian was bare-chested beneath you. You’d seen him shirtless a handful of times, but never close enough to touch, and touch him you did.

Your palms skimmed his chest and torso as you demanded another kiss. You bit down gently on Sebastian’s bottom lip, stirring more arousal from him. Your own shirt didn’t stand a chance.

Buttons popped and sailed around you like confetti before your blouse was discarded on the marble floor. Sebastian’s eyes roamed the new view of flesh above him, but it was clearly not enough. His hands drifted to the clasp of your bra, which snapped apart with precision and joined your shirt on the floor.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Sebastian hissed as he palmed your breasts. He reveled in the way they filled his hands, soft and full. “Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear it.”

“I want you to show me what I’ve been missing. I want you to give me the best fucking of my life.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

His hands roamed beneath the hem of your skirt and your breath hitched as you could feel his warm palms inching up your thighs. A single thumb dared to swipe across your entrance, which had soaked your panties ages ago.

The feeling made Sebastian’s breath hiss. “How did you get so wet?”

“How did you get so dense?”

Your banter was meant to be playful, but Sebastian and all his primal instincts viewed it as a challenge. Though he had every intention of showing you pleasure beyond your darkest dreams, he wasn’t going to give in without some teasing too.

“Calling me dense when you’re clearly dying to have me,” he tutted. “You’ve been awfully bold for someone who hasn’t been fucked for so long.”

His fingers worked their way through the side of your panties and he groaned as they were instantly coated by your wetness before they could even enter you. You whimpered as he dragged two fingers across your folds. “That’s what I thought,” Sebastian teased at your pitiful response to his touch. 

He slipped a finger inside of you and you chewed your bottom lip at the sensation. You shifted forward, sending his finger deeper until you were desperate for more pressure.

“More,” you whined. Sebastian obliged. His middle finger joined his index and he used them to gently pump at your core, the base of his hand pressed against your clit. You were so damn sensitive already, you knew you’d unravel within moments.

“Like that?” Sebastian hummed. You nodded, too fixated on your aching cunt to offer a verbal response. Sebastian’s movements stopped. “I said, like that?” You whined in protest. “Fine. Guess you’ll have to do the work yourself.”

Sebastian’s fingers lingered inside you but held still, prompting you to rock against them. You lifted your hips and rocked downward, using his fingers in the way he’d hoped. 

He licked his lips at the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers, his pants strained impossibly tight over his arousal. But he waited patiently as you worked yourself over his hand, your walls clenching around his fingers to earn your release.

That tender spot of flesh inside of you pressed repeatedly against Sebastian’s fingertips, the pressure building as the sounds of your slickness exposed your sinful act. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed as could feel the climax nearing, the peak edging to the surface of your walls until they pulsed with pleasure around Sebastian’s fingers. You moaned as you rode it out, grinding downward so that his fingers dug into your sensitive spot. Sebastian grunted as you flooded his hand, the sensation making his cock twitch with desire.

When your orgasm subsided, you slumped on top of Sebastian to catch your breath. 

“Fucking hell,” he said as he examined his coated hand. “I’m never going to recover from this.”

The admission sparked renewed energy within you as you realized the two of you were just getting started. If Sebastian’s fingers could fuck you to completion, you were anxious to learn what his cock could do.

You rose begrudgingly to your feet to slip your skirt and ruined panties off, standing naked over Sebastian, whose erection looked painful inside his tented trousers, damp from your release.

“You’re a fucking vision,” he said as he studied your naked form, his arms outstretched as they rested over the back of the sofa. 

You smirked and moved for his belt. He lifted his hips so that you could remove his pants, his boxers following suit, and you had to steel yourself at the full sight of him.

He was bigger than Andrew. You wondered if it would cause the uncomfortable pain you’d felt during your first time. You liked to think you’d had enough experience to become used to it, but your body wasn’t accustomed to accommodating anyone quite so large. The challenge of it all made your core throb with more desire.

You dropped to your knees and took Sebastian into your mouth before he could even think to protest. It was better than you’d dreamed of, smooth like velvet and far too big to fit in your entire mouth – not that you wouldn’t try.

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian hissed as his tip met the back of your throat. His hands balled in your hair and his eyes snapped shut. “This has to be heaven.”

“What makes you think you’re getting into heaven?” you asked, pausing to gaze upward at him with a smirk. 

“Fine. If this is hell, I reckon I’ll be just fine.”

Your mouth returned to work and the room fell quiet except for the sound of your lips sharply sucking against his shaft. It made him shudder.

A sharp tug of your hair made you gasp as Sebastian pulled you off his cock. You whined in confusion, but he smirked.

“Let’s give that pretty little mouth of yours a break, love,” he said. “You’re going to need it once you start screaming.”

“But-”

Sebastian held your face in his hands, a loving gesture that juxtaposed the filthy acts you were performing. “If you were anyone else, darling, I’d gladly allow you to continue. But if you keep at it, I’m not going to be able to satisfy you for long. And I want as much time with you as possible.”

It was a vulnerable admission, especially from someone as confident and experienced as Sebastian. The notion that you could absolutely ruin him with your mere mouth made you drunk with power.

“Now,” Sebastian continued as he reached for your hand to tug you closer. You rose to your feet and he peered up at you with a dreamy gaze. “What can we do to relieve the neglect your imbecile of a boyfriend has created?”

A hundred different possibilities flashed through your mind as all of your fantasies clashed at once. You’d spent hours daydreaming of the different ways Sebastian would wreck you – positions that defied physics, vile phrases that insulted the English language, sensations that left your brain a pile of mush. You wanted it all, yet in this moment, you were wholly content to simply feel him in any way he’d allow. And given your mutual epiphanies earlier, there’d be plenty of future opportunities for you and Sebastian to exert your sexual tension.

“First,” you said, your voice husky as you straddled him again, lowering your entrance until it hovered just above his erect cock. The heat made his breath hitch. “I’m going to use you until I come all over your cock.” Sebastian nodded obediently. “And then, you’re going to pin me down and fuck me until every painting in this room has heard your name.”

Sebastian swallowed. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Then we’re both going to die happy, love.”

The decisive moment had arrived as you sank around Sebastian’s tip, slow and steady as the sensation of your folds gliding over his shaft made you hold your breath. Sebastian squeezed your hips in anticipation as he watched you descend far too slowly for his liking. His restraint had nearly disintegrated when you suddenly dropped downward the rest of the way in one quick and fluid motion, the tops of his thighs pressed against your ass. The sudden warmth that enveloped him made Sebastian groan.

“Unreal,” he gasped as you held still in his lap, willing your cunt to accommodate him more. You were gritting your teeth the entire time you stretched around him, exploring his size with determination. 

“Fuck, Sebastian,” you whimpered. “You’re big.”

“Oh?” Sebastian chewed on his bottom lip as he smirked at you, though the rise and fall of his chest exposed his fragility. “And here I thought I’d have to measure up to that boyfriend of yours. Guess I easily fill his shoes.”

“And then some,” you moaned. You hadn’t even moved, but the mere feeling of Sebastian filling you entirely was enough to make your cunt threaten to contract. You dared to shift in his lap, leaning in closer to him. He sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“I can see why you were wound so tight now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Good thing I have you to help me unwind then.” You lifted your hips until your cunt glided upward, hovering around Sebastian’s tip until you dipped downward again. The look on Sebastian’s face was almost as satisfying as the pressure that swelled inside of you. 

His hands roamed to your breasts, cupping one in each hand as a thumb gently stroked each nipple. “I want to play with these while you come undone,” he said.

You picked up your pace, using the head of Sebastian’s cock to ignite friction against the sensitive spot deep inside of you. Soon, the sounds of your ass smacking against Sebastian’s thighs coursed through the room as you rose and slammed yourself downward repeatedly.

Sebastian was fighting sensory overload; the erotic sounds of your skin connecting, the sight of your breasts bouncing with every movement, the salty taste of your sweaty skin when he kissed your neck. It was too much, yet not nearly enough.

“M’close,” you moaned as you threw your head back, your eyes squeezed shut as you willed your body to comply. Sebastian’s eyes drifted downward to the place where you were connected. If his cock disappearing into your cunt was the last thing he saw before he died, he’d go willingly.

His thumb pressed against your clit, forcing your eyes to snap open in surprise. “Oh fuck,” you wailed. Your bottom lip was raw and red from the way you were chewing on it, desperate to release the tension coiled inside of you. A few more swipes of Sebastian’s thumb triggered it, your shriek echoing across the stone walls as you rocked forward, holding your hips downward in place as your walls clenched and shuddered around Sebastian’s cock.

Your breaths became short, pitchy gasps as you recovered, your body thoroughly exhausted as you clutched Sebastian’s shoulders for support. He sat with his head tilted backward against the back of the sofa, his eyes clamped shut from bracing himself through your orgasm. His lap now held a puddle of your release and he didn’t bother to hide his arousal from the vulgarity of it all. 

Once you caught your breath enough to speak, you uttered a faint laugh. “I really hope this isn’t a dream I’m going to wake up from,” you said. 

“I don’t know,” Sebastian mused, his hands rubbing gentle circles over the tops of your thighs as he gazed at you with fondness. “Personally, I’d stay and live in this dream forever if I could.”

He placed a featherlight kiss on your eyelashes and for a moment, you nearly forgot that you were currently wrapped around his twitching cock. But as Sebastian shifted uncomfortably beneath you, the pressure returned to your core.

“Now,” he said, his hands placed flat against the small of your back. “Let’s make sure you never think about that useless boyfriend ever again.”

He rose, lifting you from the sofa as you wrapped your legs around him for support. He couldn’t help but kiss you, his way of making it clear he was strong enough to hold you in such a position for future engagements. Once he placed you gently on your back, he crawled between your legs, resting back on his heels as he studied your form.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said as he gripped his own cock. 

“Show me.”

He was on top of you instantly, one hand supporting his weight while the other guided his cock back to your entrance. He sank inside you again and groaned at the return of your warmth. No one else would ever compare to it and Sebastian was sure he wouldn’t want them anyway. Not when he now knew how it felt to have you entirely.

“One more time for me, love,” he said with a thrust of his hips. “You look positively stunning when you come.” You tightened your legs around him to signal your insatiable hunger. 

“Harder,” you ordered. Sebastian would have been a fool to defy you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make you earn it. 

His hand snapped to your wrists, pinning them above your head as he bucked his hips for emphasis. The motion rippled through your body, forcing a moan from your throat. “Say please.”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“With feeling.”

“Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” He pulled his cock out so that only the tip remained against your cunt, swiping it over your clit as he licked his lips at the moisture that clung to it. “So fucking wet for me, too.”

Before you could protest, he dipped his head between your legs to drag his tongue over your raw entrance. It plunged inside your folds and trailed to your clit, where Sebastian’s mouth gently sucked until you kicked your feet from the overwhelming sensitivity. 

He slowly crawled back to meet your face, planting a swift kiss on your lips. 

“I’m going to love you forever, you know that?”

“I do now,” you breathed. “And the feeling’s mutual. Now shut the fuck up.”

Sebastian pushed his cock back inside you with less restraint this time. It drove deep within your walls in repeated jabs, the sound of your bodies clapping together with each thrust. 

The moans that fell from your lips sounded more like a howl as you clenched yourself around Sebastian’s cock in a frantic attempt to draw one more orgasm from it. He held a palm against your chest, pressing you downward into the sofa cushions as he rocked hard against you. 

Andrew had never fucked you this hard and you knew you’d never recover from it. There was no returning from a frenzied fucking like this, especially when the only person you’d ever loved was responsible for it.

You cried Sebastian’s name as his cock pounded your cunt, fervidly coaxing your walls to release. You could feel them begin to spasm as they gripped Sebastian’s hard shaft until they finally convulsed, the pleasure eliciting a guttural cry from you. Your entire body responded this time, your back arching and legs quaking as the orgasm rippled through you until you were left squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to prolong its final flutters.

You were absolutely fucked out beyond ruin, and Sebastian’s reward surfaced quickly. The sight of you so drained, so satiated by your undoing, confirmed that he was entirely lost in you. He was yours now and he’d be damned if Andrew Larson or any other brainless oaf tried to claim you ever again.

“Fucking hell,” he choked as he continued to rail his cock inside your tired cunt. “Ready to be mine?”

You nodded, still aroused by the anticipation of Sebastian finishing inside of you. Another moan escaped your lips and Sebastian grunted, forcing his cock hard into you as he spurted his release. It painted your insides with warmth, signaling the end of your romp, Sebastian’s labored breaths marking the final moments of his climax. 

Your eyelids were heavy as you became hyperaware of just how worn out your body was, but all of the tension you’d carried for the past few weeks was gone. You were relaxed now. Sebastian had certainly delivered on his promise.

When you let your eyes drift open again, you realized he was still above you, gazing at you with renewed affection.

“All right?” he asked. You offered him the prettiest smile you could manage.

“What do you think?”

“I think you ought to go break up with that boyfriend of yours.”

“Sebastian, you’re literally still inside me. Do you really think I’m concerned with anyone else right now?”

“Oh. Too right, you are.” He was lingering, and you weren’t sure if it was because he was tired or because he wanted to prolong the moment. Whatever the reason, you were in no rush to part from him. He seemed to be studying you, and you recognized the familiar tells that he was deep in thought, like his furrowed eyebrows and slight pout.

“Anything you care to share with the class?” you murmured. 

“It’s just that… I mean, you and I-” Sebastian struggled for the right words. “This wasn’t a one-time thing, right?”

“I fucking hope not.”

“Good. Because you’ve absolutely ruined me for life.” 

Finally, he drew backward and straightened, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. Your eyes fell to your crumpled shirt on the floor and you heaved a sigh. The buttons were gone, the threads that held them shredded and torn beyond Reparo.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” you whined as you held the shirt up to show Sebastian the results of his impatience. He looked far too smug for your liking.

“Guess you’ll just have to wear mine,” he said with a shrug. He bent down to pick up his sweater and tossed it to you. “Too hot for me to be wearing this anyway.” You slipped it over your head, its large sleeves swallowing your arms, the initials “S.S.” embroidered in green over your left breast. It smelled like him – warm and woodsy. Though it was far too big for you, you decided you’d never give it back.

“I look ridiculous,” you huffed. Sebastian, however, beamed at you with pride.

“You look fucking sinful,” he declared, his grin revealing his glee.

Once you were both clothed, albeit visibly disheveled, you slipped from the Room of Requirement and descended the staircase.

“Hungry?” you asked Sebastian as you reached the lower level of the Astronomy Wing. He nodded but you frowned as he veered in the direction opposite the Great Hall. “Where are you going?” you asked as you clung to his arm.

Sebastian glanced sideways at you and smirked, taking in the sight of you in his oversized sweater, his initials marking his new territory. 

“I believe we need to make a stop in the library first.”

[aliazen]

A round-up of old friends

[thingsmaygetalittlecrazy]

My humble offering to the choccy gods 🫴🙏🙌😉

Clora is hyper-focused on school and Seb is hyper-focused on Clora 😌🫶

I saw a photo of a couple like this and all I could think was how SebClora coded it was LOOOL 😆 and honestly this piece may not be my fav thing but I learned so much while I made it and im just glad I didn't scrap it during any of my frustrating moments 🫶💖

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT @choccy-milky 🫶🫶🫶

(Just ignore all the sloppiness and errors I'll do better next time, I didn't even know what clipping layers WERE when I made majority of this 😅)

[dwightschrute11]

Sebastian after doing something stupid (but he’s always doing something stupid) suggested by @endless-starlight-legacy!

I’m so tired (sleep deprived) I need a break from drawing the final batch of MCs

Please give me random doodle ideas (they can be anything, your mc, popcorn as a human, movie / video game /show stuff, but it will be in my simpler Chibi because it’s easy) I’ll do as many as possible actually

[sunnyrealist]

🧹 Sebastian Sallow’s Quidditch Position 🧹

Have you heard? Sebastian Sallow will be a playable character in the Quidditch game coming out in September! So, Hogwarts Legacy fandom, which position might he play?

Please feel free to sound off in the comments!

Also, please enjoy @xxluna-rougexx’s adorable pic of Sebastian after Quidditch practice. 😍 Thanks, Luna!

[orqheuss]

Even the iron still fears the rot PART 5

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

This is definitely moving in a more "female rage" route...oops.

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Summary:

Sebastian mourns. Ominis dreams. You rage. A letter falls from the sky, bearing a single line of text, an ominous message, and a gift that sets your world ablaze. Let the games begin.

Word count: 6.6k

Tags: Self deprecating thoughts, actions similar to self-harm, mentions of torture, emetophobia, illness, infection, disassociation, arson, child abuse, verbal degradation regarding a physical disability, graphic depictions of injury, blood, nightmares, feminine rage (kind of. it's still mostly gender neutral)

Read at your own discretion

AN: Surprise! New part. There was already so much happening in this chapter, and I wanted the action to get its own spotlight. So, one more part. Sorry...

It had been a long flight back from Hogsmeade, probably the longest flight you had ever experienced. Tears clouded your vision as you flew, the small droplets following you like staccato music notes to your song of sorrow. You did not know how long you had stayed in that clearing, cradling a little black button against your chest as if it could tell you the secrets of the universe. Nothing could quell the anguish deep in your chest, throat hoarse from your wails and knees dirty, caked in mud and flecks of dried blood— the blood of your best friends. All you could think about was how scared Ominis and Sebastian must be, trapped somewhere for what must be nearly two days at this point, starving and cold and alone, so very alone without the thought of someone coming for them. They didn’t know how hard you were searching for them. They knew how much you cared for them— that you would do anything to keep them safe. It was a small comfort to think that they had hope of rescue. That being said, fear does fickle things to the mind, even to the strongest of people. You could only imagine the torment that they must be going through at the hands of the villains after you. 

Desperate to erase the pain harbored in your chest, you flew. There were no feelings in the sky, no sadness in the wind caressing your face with its gentle gale. There was only freedom before you. Free from your binds as a Keeper of ancient magic— free from the responsibilities placed upon your shoulders before you even understood what they meant. You were much too young for this level of sadness, not even sixteen and having to deal with the possibility that your two best friends may very well die at the hands of your enemies. You shouldn’t even have enemies. You should be studying in the library with your friends, laughing with a confidence that could only be found in a young, obnoxiously mischievous teenager— like you were the sunlight that warmed the day and the moonrays that cooled the night. Instead, you were dealt cards that you had never seen before for a game that had no rules to follow. 

Once you touched down on the grassy lawn of the bell tower courtyard, you were angry. More angry than you had ever felt before. A ravenous hunger for revenge scorched through your veins and licked at the ancient magic swirling in your chest, pushing and pulling the magic to and fro like it was trying to call forth an army of unimaginable disaster. Static swam in your ears against the pounding of your heart as you ran through the hallways of the imposing school, throwing yourself around corners and fighting against the crowds of students that were all too aware of the terrible fortune that has befallen your existence. All they saw was a poor, heartbroken bastard that had just lost their closest friends— a pitiful excuse of a human in search of a hopeless miracle. Fools, all of them. They didn’t know the velocity of pain slamming itself against your heart. They didn’t know that your world was falling apart faster than you could put the pieces back together. You could feel their whispers against your back, their eyes boring into your skin like you were a freak show in the traveling circus. The names of your lost loves followed you like a feral beast tracking the scent of blood. How dare they utter the names of your beloved. How dare they view you as helpless— as weak. For too long had these neanderthals viewed you as less than because of your house, your upbringing, your name. You would show them, you’d show them all. 

Even still, under that blistering, that blinding anger, there was a deep and foreboding sadness inside of you. It called to you— implored you to cease the rapid pounding of your feet against the linoleum floor and quell the explosive hatred bubbling in your gut. You knew that it wasn’t the fault of any of your peers that Ominis and Sebastian had been taken. It was yours. You were the reason they were gone. If anyone deserved your ire, it was yourself. Skidding to a stop near the main entrance to the hall of Herodiana, you nearly dropped to your knees as the thought ricocheted through your brain like a bullet. The melancholy inside was right. It was your fault. There was no one else to blame but yourself. How could you be so dense? You were the one with ancient magic, after all. You had ended Ranrok and his rebellion. You had murdered Victor Rookwood. You had killed countless dark witches and wizards on your pillage towards righteousness. Who were you to think your power as something godly— something blessed by the saints, something divine? They had cast the first stone, but you had made it hale boulders. You needed to run, to hide from the outside world. You were a monster. An omen of death. Anyone close to you was as good as dead— Fate had made that fact inordinately clear. 

Through it all, there was only one place you wanted to be, and that was cradled in the arms of your Slytherins. 

Fortunately, if you could even call it that, there was another place that you could go to feel close to them. Just the thought of the Undercroft sent a pang of guilt through your chest, making your eyes move against your will to the lonely corner where your favorite blond liked to nap in the sunshine. Steel stronger than anything goblin forged grew cold in your eyes, the embers of the fresh metal dying out with only the sound of your shattering heart as fanfare. Grief and rage swirled in your gut like a demented, Hadestic hurricane. Fire threatened to spill from your panting lips with each step you took, your soul unable to even comprehend the pain resting just behind your teeth— the ache of grief— the burn of fury. 

But still, on you ran— ran to the safety of the closest you could get to your home. 

The gun-metal gate of the Undercroft creaked open with a sickening wail, like it too mourned the loss of its original owners. Your feet felt like lead as you finally skidded to a stop— your knees threatening to give up and let your weight tumble to the ground as waves of memories assaulted your mind. This was the room that you fell in love in; the room that held so much of your devotion to the two Slytherin boys you befriended what felt like years ago; how quickly they had wormed their way into your naive heart. It was a scary thought that they had this much power over you, even though it had only been a little over a year since you met the pair. Melancholia began to cloud your vision again, tears threatening to spill down your already reddened and wind-raw cheeks. At any other point you would think you were going insane with how often your emotions were shifting— anger, to despair, to worry, to anger again— sadangrysadangrysad— boundless, cosmic. But, for once the chaos felt right.

It felt like home.

Your footfalls were as loud as stone falling down a cliffside as you trudged around the space, your steps shaky and unsure like a newborn babe. To your right you could hear the ghost of Sebastian pouring over Slytherin’s spellbook— not a pleasant time, but how you loved the sound of his voice when he was excited. Just over your shoulder you felt the misty presence of Ominis as he practiced his potions. He was still rubbish at it, but it was rare to see him so disheveled, like an eclipse that only came around once in a lifetime— it was also quite cute when he scrunched his nose in frustration. You finally reached the desk you sat at so many times before, the three of you leaning over the roughly sanded wood with homework strewn across the surface as you argued over the answer to a Divination question you were all puzzled by. Everything was painful now; no happy feelings fluttering in your chest at the sight of the brunette’s discarded ties or the blond’s evergrowing collection of quick-note quills. Your heart ached at the realization that it was beginning to feel hopeless, like you would never feel happiness again for as long as you lived— you wouldn’t if you never saw their smiling faces once more. Just once, that was truly all you were asking for. Alas, the gods above did not grant miracles to people like you. They did not bless the heretics. 

From inside your robe, the two wands tucked safely in your breast pocket burned. 

An uncomfortable feeling began to grow in your chest, the feeling of despair soon taken over by an all encompassing rage. Flames licked at your ankles and ash grew thick in the air— you choked against the sludge building in your lungs. Even if the room was as cold as the Arctic, not a bit of heat in the large, echoing space, you felt like you were burning alive. With trembling hands, you gingerly— carefully— took the two magical instruments from your pocket and placed them onto the mahogany table.

The world did not end quietly for you that day. It was big, and loud, and infinite. It did not come from nowhere. 

It came from you. 

The only sound that could be heard over your heaving, ferocious breaths was the ricochet of crashing lumber against resolute stone. Screams lodged themselves in your throat as you furiously threw spell after spell around the space. Boxes lining the walls were sent splintering across the floor with one simple flick of your wrist, plooms of fire following soon after as you exploded the rubble. It was a catastrophe, that room. That once wonderful room that housed every piece of your joy— your true, unfiltered happiness. Now, your one remaining source of bliss was gone— ripped away from you far too soon. Your footsteps shook the ground as you paced across the space, your fingers frantically wracking through your hair and pulling at the roots, sending sparks of pain through your skull. The color around you seemed to fade into a blinding monochrome, painting your vision a startling black around the edges as your ire festered deep inside. If Ominis was here with you, he would chastise you for your incessant back and forth, grouchily complaining in that petulant tone of his that you were disturbing his peace; something he so rarely got, as he liked to remind you. You would smile in a sickeningly sweet way as you turned to face him, gesturing rudely before continuing your path. He would, somehow, know what you did, and would give you the same gesture in turn, a smirk turning the corners of his lips. Sebastian would laugh behind the pages of the thick tome he had decided to snatch from the library that day. You would tease him that if he kept reading like that he would need glasses one day soon. He would wave you off with a chuckle. 

You could hear them all around you at that moment, the ghost of two complementary laughs filling the echoing space— one loud and boisterous, twinged the color of tree tops under your feet as you flew against the brilliant blue sky, one a subdued chuckle, jovial, but fragile, rare, mirth painting your world the color of sunsets over Loch Lomond. 

How you longed to hear those sounds again. 

Unable to hold it at bay any longer, the tsunami of your wails breached the delicate, raw skin at the back of your throat for the second time that day, sneaking through your tightly clenched teeth with small whimpers, each one increasing in volume as the seconds bloomed into minutes. Blood pooled in your mouth and threatened to make you choke on it.

Under all sounds, the two wands resting like sleep on the table hummed. 

With one mighty breath— one deep and stuttered inhale, you screamed into the vast space. Your pain swam in the air like a thick granite-toned fog across the Clagmar coast, filling every corner of the room until you could only choke on the thick plumes. You wrenched the wands from the surface, each branch of wood still thrumming with the magic of its owner and carrying a distinct aura, something you once would have blushed at the notion of identifying so easily, and threw them across the room with every ounce of might you could muster. They bounced off the farthest wall from you before tumbling to the ground, the tiny sparks of magic sputtering out of each tip hissing against the dusty floor. You wanted to rip the world apart at the seams, scorch the very fabric of existence in your devastating rage. You wanted to devour the sky whole and spit out stars in its wake. Hell hath no fury like a lover scorned, and you did not fear Hell. You howled again, loud and long and lingering against the echoing cathedral ceilings as you wordlessly casted a spell of brimstone and fire. You held your wand steady in your hand, fingernails digging into your skin and drawing pebbles of blood to the surface, your steps turning your body in a small circle where you stood as you set every box, every table, every chair in the encompassing space ablaze. Flames roared to life around you as you fell to your knees within your personal pyre, sobs crescendoing to their highest peak as you mourned. Scattered papers fluttered to the ashen floor like embers in a steadily burning bonfire, tiny little stars reaching their hands upwards in hopes that they, too, would be looked at in wonder each night. 

You were no closer to finding Ominis and Sebastian as you were when you first set off this morning. No clues could be found anywhere to signify where they could have gone— where they could have been taken. There was no guarantee if you would ever see them again.

A bit of parchment landed softly against where your hand was clenched on the ground— a touch of care in your monument of grief. Your eyes trailed downwards, catching on the smoldering corners of the piece of sheet music. A shaking hand entered your field of vision— yours, you realized— and hesitantly picked it up with vibrating fingers. Written neatly across the bars were the gentle curves of piano chords, each one tucked together like birds huddling for warmth in a tune you did not know. The handwriting was almost perfect, like it was printed in one of the many scores on the impressively stocked shelves of the music room, but there was still something distinctly imperfect; something alien, something human. Each note was slanted, like someone else was dictating what should be on the page and another noted it down. Some sections were crossed out ferociously, tiny dots of ink splattering with each harsh strike. Letting your eyes roam, new misty tears gathered on your lashes at the chicken scratch decorating the corner of the piece. 

Property of Ominis, 1891. 

You touched the ink gently, imagining it when it was freshly wet. Ominis did always like to write his name himself; everything else could be done with his quick-notes quill. There was something, he told you once, about writing out your own name on a piece of parchment. Labeling something with your identity in ink black as pitch and just as permanent. It was yours, he said. Not your families, not anyone else's. It belonged to you and you alone. He liked the idea of owning something that his family couldn’t touch. 

The blond had notated one section, right near the end of the set of bars and crescendoing into the next, that garnered your attention. Someone else had drawn a crooked arrow that pointed to one of the half notes, a single sentence following just within the margin of the page. 

This note is wrong. 

The lettering was swirled slightly, like someone decided to learn cursive but gave up halfway through the lessons. The writer had a heavy hand; tiny drops of ink decorated the loops of their i’s and g. Each word was written like the person had something better to do, something more to jot down as their brain moved faster than their hand. A tear dripped onto the page, smudging the lettering as you recognized the handwriting.

Sebastian.

Just under it, another scratched sentence— the letters perfectly imperfect. 

You can’t even read sheet music, you walnut. 

Such a little thing, such a small detail, but oh how it meant the world to you. How much sorrow you could feel from two scribbles of words on a bit of parchment. 

To anyone looking in from the outside, they would only see your grief. They would see your mourning in the tears that streaked down your ash covered cheeks— your agony in the wrinkles and dusty fingerprints adorning the pretty pastel yellow sweater under your tweed coat. They did not know the truth, though. You were out of tears— out of sobs and wails. All you felt now was blinding, incapacitating rage. You wanted to cry more, to scream and rip the paper clutched in your hands to shreds and wait until the universe granted you this one wish: to bring your boys home to you. But, there was no more time for that— no more wishes to come true, no more room inside of you for anything other than outrage. Fury. Hatred.

Revenge. 

And so you stood up on your shaking legs, casting a wordless water charm to put out your flames. Your eyes glowed as the pyre dimmed, leaving only ash and ruin. True, opaque smoke tumbled towards the peaked roof of the hideaway, curling around each other with a sizzle and stray spark— an Oroborous of cataclysmic size. From within the circle of your own destruction, you couldn’t help but think that the room looked morbidly beautiful. 

With the last iota of grace you could muster, you tucked the piece of music into your pocket, gingerly picking up the discarded wands once again— relishing just a bit in the warmth that still resided in each piece of magical bark— and tucked them where they should be in your pocket. 

A wolfish, wicked grin stretched across your face as you stared at the carnage you made. Your shoulders straightened— dangerously so, unnaturally so. A new sparkle grew in your eyes— something deadly and unfamiliar, but so damn right. 

If a fight was what they wanted, a fight is what they would get. 

You were a beast— bloodthirsty with an insatiable appetite for slaughter. 

You were not an option. You were inevitable. A horror beyond their comprehension. An omen. A threat. They would soon understand that. You would make them understand that. 

They would pray for mercy with their pretty words, and then you would sink your teeth into their throat and rip each of them out until there was nothing left. 

It was a common occurrence for Sebastian to take care of Ominis after his nightmares. It was amazing that he didn’t have to do it more often, honestly. He was always a perceptive boy; it was one of his best assets. So, when Ominis would wake up in the dead of the night, his breathing heavy and panting with a sheen of sweat coating his clammy skin, it wasn’t hard to figure out the young Gaunt’s secret. For the longest time the boy refused to tell Sebastian anything— he was ever so insecure, after all, and he did not want anyone to know that about him. But even still, the brunette slowly, carefully, chipped away at his barriers piece by piece until the blond would let him crawl into bed with him and hush his muffled cries. 

It took him even longer to pry what the nightmares were about out of the boy— nearly three years of waking to Ominis screaming himself conscious. Sebastian knew that the Gaunt family was not a kind one. Being a pureblood wizard himself, just not of the same pedigree, as the sacred family would say, he was well aware of the politics surrounding blood purity and the cruelty of the families that practiced those types of ideals. What he did not know was how unfeeling they could be towards their own children. The Sallow family was one of love— happiness. Joy seeped through the cracks in their threadbare manor by the coast and coated every inch of their meager belongings. He learned of care, of family, of belonging— most importantly, he learned what it meant to learn. There was never a night that his mother and father did not bid the twins goodnight without a kiss on the head and a story. Ominis did not grow like that. The Gaunt house was cold, both physically and emotionally. It rested atop of a lone hill just on the outskirts of wizard London, the walls as tall as the clouds and the wards surrounding the property even higher— a house of ghosts. He never knew what it meant to play, to run through the grass and jump into the creek just beyond his fence. Instead, he learned of pain, of neglect, and, of course, of fear. The one thing that they had in common was that they both learned the meaning of the word “family,” even if they had been taught very different definitions. 

So, when Ominis awoke in the middle of the night with a howl trapped in his throat and a plea of mercy towards his father at the tip of his tongue, Sebastian did not ask any questions. It was not a time for answers, it was a time for comfort. For care. For kindness. 

After the screams had subsided and the tears had dried on the blonds boney cheeks, it was some of the most peaceful times the two boys had ever shared. 

Sebastian was warmth to Ominis. He was hugs in the middle of the night and waking up to his arm around his waist. He was the calm after the tremulous storm in his mind. And in turn, Ominis was Sebastian’s balm. He kept the heat within him from roaring out in a grand blaze with a simple touch of his hand. He was his beginnings and his ends— his softly whispered fable in front of the common room fireplace. Above all else, he was his good. 

It killed them both inside, a little bit more each second that passed, that they couldn’t comfort the other. Ominis had expressed his anguish last night as he listened to Sebastian’s shaky breaths and the stuttered rhythm of his heart as he drifted into a sickly sleep. Now, it was the freckled boy’s turn to listen out for the other. For the longest time he wasn’t sure if the blond was even alive; his chest was that still. It took an hour at least— an hour of the youngest Sallow twin sobbing and calling out for his love— for Ominis to make the smallest sound. Sebastian didn’t hear it at first against the pounding in his skull. His skin was a sickly pale color at that point, sweat beading at his brow and trailing down the sides of his face even though it was hellishly cold in their dismal prison. Tremors shook his entire body, fighting against the hot that scorched just under his skin and the chill that permeated the air around him. The infection was getting worse. Much, much, worse. It was a miracle that he was still conscious— a miracle or his death. He would take either at that point. 

Awash in terror and sickeningly macabre thoughts, it took him a moment to register movement from the other side of the room. He didn’t believe it at first; it must have been a trick of the light, or the breeze blowing through the dungeon had simply tossed Ominis’ hair like a lover smoothing it away from his face. But sure enough, his chest had begun to rise and fall at a faster rate. His breath pushed out of his bruised lungs with much more effort than what was normal. The tiny puffs of air coiled around the bars of his cage like a soul swallowed by the demons of Azkaban. Sebastian’s own panting stilled in his throat, finally registering that the blond was alive. Joy felt like the wrong emotion to be feeling then, but he couldn’t help the relieved smile that pressed at the corners of his mouth— couldn’t stop the nearly soundless laugh that tumbled from the very depths of his heart. How could he feel anything but elation knowing that Ominis had survived what some of the strongest Auror’s could not? Stars, he loved him. He loved him more than the sun loved the moon— more than ships loved a lighthouses song just off the shore. If his light was alive, if he was okay, then by Salazar, he could do anything. Sebastian felt the familiar feeling of hope fill his chest with butterflies for the first time in a very long while. 

That was, until he heard the sounds coming from the boy just out of reach. 

They started quiet, like the buzz of a crackling coal in a still fire. Tiny whimpers— the smallest iota of a sound. But then, they got louder. The coals caught ablaze once more, drowning the suffocating silence of their downy prison with clipped screams and harsh whines. It sounded like it pained the blond to even utter the noises breaching through his chattering teeth. The chilling realization washed over Sebastian like the icy waters of the black lake— Ominis was trapped in a nightmare. His heart sank once more, dread pooling just under his jaw and threatening to tear its way out of his sweat and dirt marred throat with its deadly sharp claws. He wanted nothing more than to take the young Gaunt into his arms and hold him close— to press his face against his blood soaked hair and shush his cries into the clammy skin at his collar. 

That was Leona’s greatest torture, he realized. Keeping them apart. Just out of fingers reach. 

His hope bled from him like the sea bled moonlight, and he let his body fall onto the stone wall just at his back, head resting in his shaking palms as his fingers fisted at his greasy, knotted hair. Soft sobs filled the still air once again. 

Please, he prayed, hoping that his voice would somehow carry to the tall castle that seemed to be on the other side of the world. Please, come save us. 

The nightmares always started the same. He was in the halls of the Gaunt manor, the dismal aura surrounding him stealing the joy from his soul and crushing his lungs with its banshee-like claustrophobia. He could feel the harsh grip of his older brother at his shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into his velvet dinner jacket and pressing bruises deep into his skin. He wasn’t sure what to make of the attention at first. Before it truly registered in his mind, it was almost familial the way Marvolo wrapped his arm around Ominis’ taut shoulders, steering him away from his path towards the library and instead leading him deeper and deeper into the foreboding manor halls. No words were spoken between the two—  conversation was rare between the pair… between any of the Gaunt leaders and the small boy, really. He was a pariah in his own home. The black sheep hiding in a den of wolves. 

Ominis recalled it being a fairly normal day. He had had tea with his dear Aunt Noctua just an hour before, only stopping their conversation when the sun had begun to set and the air around them had begun to chill. That was when he found himself meandering his way towards the grand library at the center of his abode. That is, until his brother so rudely interrupted him. He remembered feeling unsure at the sudden attention from the elder Gaunt sibling. Marvolo tended to ignore him as of late, instead favoring his father’s company as they discussed his work at the Ministry. He was quite curious as to where the taller of the two was taking him, but he knew better than to ask questions, instead electing to simply follow and see what panned out. All he knew was that his brother’s fingers felt piercing against his skin. 

The memory played out behind his eyes like a moving picture on the tall walls. It was one of those rare nightmares that Ominis could minutely picture what was happening around him. While he did not have the gift of sight, he had an active imagination when it came to visible stimuli. The halls of Gaunt manor, as he had been told before, were painted a muted olive tone with silver embellishments along the vaulted ceilings and dangling chandeliers above his head— like the sound of leaves rustling in the trees on a fall evening. The walls were lined with sentient pictures of his ancestors, dating all the way back to Salazar Slytherin himself. He did not know what his family truly looked like, but he knew some small specifics. Soft yellow hair, nearly white in some lantern light. Strong features across their pointed faces. Unnervingly blue eyes and a haunting stare to match. All things that he had in common with everyone on his family tree— more of a tangled bush than anything, he liked to joke to himself. They were unusually quiet that night, not even a whisper of a scathing remark about his impairment to be heard in the hushed hallway. 

Strange, Ominis had mused to himself. 

The vision shifted then, the green and silver foyer falling away to a dark and dismal room. The air was startlingly still in the youngest Gaunt’s ears, not even the softest breeze could be felt in the echoing space. Everything around him was black— no description to go off of in his mind for what he was experiencing. There were others in the room, but even they were silent. He could smell his mothers strong perfume, something heady and obnoxious in his sensitive nose. The harsh smell of his fathers cigars mingled unpleasantly with the scent of the overly powdery notes. Beyond them he could place something unfamiliar— something striking and metallic, like old galleons at the bottom of a coin purse. It reminded him of when he had scraped his knee earlier in the week on the patio outside. Copper. Iron. 

His breathing stilled in his chest. 

Blood.

It was then that he heard the panting breaths off to his left, the cadence foreign to anyone in his bloodline. The breathing was shallow in nature, with a slight stutter between hisses of pain. He could not sense any new magic signatures in the space. Something was wrong. Very, very, wrong. 

His father stepped forwards then, pulling him from his brother’s grasp and replacing the bite of Marvolo’s fingers with his own as he steered him farther into the room. He led him to what he thought was the middle of the room before letting go and turning to face the boy, his form towering over Ominis like a dragon to a simple goat. The boy fought against the shiver that threatened to move through him at the intensity of the Gaunt patriarch’s stare. 

“Ominis.” His father’s gravelly tone scratched at his ears. “It is time that you prove your worth in this family.” 

He was puzzled. Had he not done so already? He was their flesh and blood. Surely that was enough?

“What do you mean, father?” He said, confusion lacing his young voice. 

Annoyance shed from every corner of the room— all three of his closest family members. His anxiety began to subtly increase, a knot beginning to form in his throat. Had he said something wrong?

“I mean,” his father hissed. “It is time that we show you why we are the strongest, the most widely known, the most feared wizarding family to date.” 

The stillness around him was cut by the sharp swipe of Erebus Gaunt’s wand as he threw the first spell.

“Crucio.”

Ominis had never heard screams that loud before. They were sharp, painful, terrified. He covered his ears against the harshness of it, his eyes slamming shut as he processed what just happened. There were two distinct voices calling out, he noticed. One higher— feminine. The other lower in tone and with a more masculine lilt. They wailed in agony from the spell, its electric current pulsing in their bodies as it burned away the blood in their veins. Pleas of mercy filled the room like a never ending current. The boy’s arms were ripped away from his head, forcing him to listen to every sound of anguish. Each howl was like a blinding light straight into his frontal cortex. Tears pooled in his eyes at the pure agony soaking him to the bone. 

Just as quickly as it began, it was over. The youngest Gaunt’s body trembled in place as silence bathed the room in blackness once again. 

His voice shook against the words escaping from his clamped throat. “What— what was that?” 

Marvolo’s voice came from over his shoulder. “Pest control.” 

Ominis’ heart nearly gave out when he grasped his brother’s meaning. Muggles. 

He shook his head rapidly, taking two stumbling steps back before bumping into the strong chest of his father. Two hands clamped down roughly on his shoulders, holding him in place. All the puzzle pieces floating around in his muddled mind fit together with a sickening click. 

“No.” He breathed, his panic growing stronger and stronger by each passing second. “No! I won’t do it! This is too much— you’re asking too much!” 

His father’s grip tightened, his fingernails digging fresh indents into his collar. “You will not question your father, boy.” He spit the word like an insult. 

Ominis shook his head, fighting against the arms holding him in place. Frightened tears spilled down his cheeks. All he could hear against the blood pounding in his ears was the weak cries of the couple at his feet, begging him for mercy. 

His mother finally spoke, her voice resigned and twinged with irritation. “Just get on with it, Erebus. We haven’t got all night.” 

His father growled above him. “You will hold your tongue, Catarina.” He turned his attention back to the shivering boy clamped under his bruising grip. “Cast the spell, boy. I will not ask twice.” 

Ominis felt a slender piece of wood be shoved into his hand. 

He shook his head again, terror flooding his tiny, ten-year-old body. “Please, father. Don’t make me do this.” He dropped the wand onto the floor, listening to it roll away from his feet. 

As quickly as it began it was over. His father released him, harshly shoving him to the cold granite ground. The blond caught himself before his face hit, his hands outstretched and nearly sliding away against the blood that bloomed across the floor. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

Erebus Gaunt’s footsteps rang in his ears as he paced away from his hunched form, the thumps only ceasing for a moment as they were replaced by the clatter of wood against tile. His deep, foreboding sigh filled the entire room like the hiss of a snake. 

“I didn’t want to have to do this, boy.” He said, his tone almost sounded sympathetic if Ominis didn’t know any better. “Know that it was you who forced my hand.” 

He could only puzzle what it meant for a stagnant moment before his entire world came crashing down around him. 

“Crucio!”

Pain. Unimaginable pain. Excruciating. Constant. Incapacitating. That was all he felt. That and betrayal— heartbreak. Never had they hurt him like this before. Nothing physical, at least. Words can leave just as harsh of a sting on your soul as hands can. This was new, though. His very being was on fire, like the strings that kept him tied together inside were being ripped apart by the hands of the Fates. His blood boiled under his skin— his tongue felt like it was as thick as fresh cotton and as heavy as steel. It was a miracle he didn’t bite through it. The magic licked at every bit of him, every pore and hair follicle, like a rabid dog. He had never been burned before, but Ominis was sure that even the touch of the hottest coals in all of Tartarus itself would hurt less than this. If he was able to see before this, he would be twice as blind by the end. He was sure that if he opened his eyes— his mouth— his insides would leak out like melting ice at the bottom of a glass. 

Through it all, he thought he heard a scream. A small part of him hoped it was his mother, begging father to stop. Only when the pain finally ceased and he felt how raw his throat had become did he realize he was only hearing himself. 

The tinkle of wood against the granite mosaic was familiar to him now when his father dropped the wand next to his trembling hand. The world felt muddled around him— too much, but also too little against his skin. 

“I tell you again, Ominis.” His father’s voice was like shattering glass. “Prove to me that you are worthy of the life we are providing you.” 

As much as his heart bled— his soul screamed and pleaded against the hand wrapping around the wand— he knew that this was life or death now. Torture or be tortured— kill or be killed. He stood on shaky legs, a hand clenched around his stomach like his insides would tumble to the floor if he relieved the pressure there. His already overactive senses kicked into overdrive. The blood covering his once pristine clothes smelled twice as strong as before. The sobs of the poor muggles his family had taken from their home grated against his ringing ears with a startling clarity. The wood in his left hand— much too big for his small fingers— felt like a ten pound weight. Everything was too much. He had to make it stop— everything had to stop. 

All he wanted was for it to stop. 

He cast the spell. 

This all was the same, of course. Every nightmare was the same. 

This one, though, was an anomaly. 

Because, instead of the voices of the two muggles that he was forced to torture, all he heard was the screams of you and Sebastian. 

From the sky came a note. Nothing special— no identifiable penmanship, no return address, no nomenclature. Just your name printed neatly across the front. 

Inside the old, yellowed envelope were two things. One, a letter— a scrawl of some coordinates and the request to come alone, all signed with a swirled see you soon. 

Huddled at the bottom, tucked into one of the corners, was the second thing— two things, really. Tied neatly together with a piece of twine, a delicate bow decorating it like a present on Christmas, was a bundle of hair. White and brown. 

The wind around you howled as you summoned your broom to your hand. A storm was brewing— you didn’t know which was stronger, the one in the air, or the one inside of you. 

Whomever sent the letter would find out soon enough. You thought about where you would hurt them first.  As you kicked off the ground, the frigid gale answered everywhere.

AN: The wait won't be that long again, I promise!! Next part will be the last.

[pandanscafanfiction]

Take this with no context.

You're welcome.

[hotcinnam0n]

Wanna jump right in there!

Just realized I never shared the beginning stages teaser of this one 🤦‍♀️ So here, have the almost (nowhere) near finished version 😏

Better late than never! 😩🙌 Om can take it like a fucking champ, lemme tell yuh 💪

Also, happy Weasley Wednesday, besties! ❤️

[jmliebert]

How to Win Over Sebastian Sallow

beat him in a duel (bonus points if you smirk as he lies wandless on the floor)

or generally, be better than him at something he take pride in, whether it's duelling, or charming your way out of detention

wink at him, no explanations. just do it and see what happens :)

be confident darling, walk like you own the room. he can't resist someone who knows their worth

indulge him with witty remarks or sarcastic comebacks

stick together even if it's straight to some serious troubles. ride or die sort of situation (Sebastian is the real one)

share some secret with him and watch as he straightens up, eager to prove he’s trustworthy, his eyes lighting up at the idea of being the one you chose to share it with (he’ll guard it like a dragon guards treasure)

whether it’s sneaking into the restricted section or investigating cursed relics, always say “yes” to his wild ideas, be up for an adventure, he lives for it

out of nowhere, pull Sebastian by the tie and kiss him hard

punch Leander in the face

keep s friendly competition between the two of you

offer him a hug or a kind word when he's feeling low, show him you care beyond all the chaos and banter

visit Anne, cheer her up a little (he'll be deeply touched when Ann'll tell him you came by)

show (and teach) him some impressive spell. the more dangerous and not on the curriculum the spell is the better

sneak, plot and get into trouble together basically

tease him about his hair, lightly poke fun at how perfect his hair always looks, and watch him get adorably defensive

complement his freckles

hand him a treat during a study session (food is love)

leave him a mysterious message that leads to a hidden spot in the castle. he’ll be dying to find out what you’re up to

rest your head on his shoulder and watch him freeze for a moment, his breath catching, before he leans ever so slightly into you, trying to act nonchalant while his heart races

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

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