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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 3 days ago

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More Than Just a Favor | Sebastian Sallow x Reader One-Shot

I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE 100 FOLLOWERS?

Might be a small milestone to some but I only made this blog a little over a month ago so I am just quite surprised, and honored! Thank you to every single one of you who chose to follow my silly little fanfic blog. To celebrate and as a little thank you, I've written a female mc x sebastian one shot for y'all to enjoy <3

Summary: Rumor has it, you're still a virgin. Sebastian intends to find out if the gossip is true.

Words: ~9,300

Tags: Modern AU, Confessions, Smut, First Time, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Sebastian x Female Reader, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House

It started the way most Hogwarts rumors did: with a fragile ego, a loose tongue, and someone who couldn’t keep their mouth shut.

Sebastian wasn’t one to keep track of the latest school gossip. He had better things to do—like beating Ominis at chess, ditching homework, or sneaking off to the Undercroft with you. But this time, he didn’t have much of a choice. This particular rumor wasn’t just background noise; it was everywhere. And it was about you.

Apparently, your ex-boyfriend, the prat Sebastian had barely tolerated even back when you were dating, had let something slip to one of his friends. It wasn’t just an offhanded comment, either. No, he’d told the guy—loudly enough to be overheard in the courtyard—that the two of you broke up because you refused to go past second base with him.

“Six months, and nothing,” the friend had gossiped afterward, his c oice carrying over the sound of students milling about after lunch. “No wonder he’s still bitter.”

From there, the rumor was all anyone could talk about.

“She’s still a virgin?” “You’d think she’d have gotten it out of the way by now.” “Didn’t they date for, like, six months? What was the point?”

The whispering spread like Fiendfyre. Even students who didn’t know you beyond your reputation—the girl who’d saved Hogwarts from Ranrok’s rebellion in fifth year, who seemed fearless in every sense of the word—were weighing in, dissecting your personal life like it was some kind of puzzle to solve.

Of course, it didn’t help that your ex was known for being pissed about the break up. People speculated he’d let the secret slip on purpose, unable to handle the fact that you’d dumped him in the first place. That made the whole thing worse, because now it wasn’t just about you—it was about him and his wounded pride, and the entire school seemed to be picking sides.

Sebastian overheard it for the first time during lunch, sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table. A group of fifth years down the way were giggling, their voices barely low enough to avoid catching the attention of a passing professor.

“Can you believe it?” one girl said, her voice dripping with glee. “Her, of all people?”

“What about her?” her friend asked, clearly out of the loop.

“She’s a virgin!” the first girl whispered, as though it were the most scandalous thing she’d ever heard. “Apparently, that’s why her ex dumped her. Six months together, and she wouldn’t even—”

Sebastian’s fork clattered against his plate, cutting the girl off mid-sentence.

She froze, glancing nervously at him as he slowly pulled the earbud from his right ear. His music—something dark and brooding, of course—cut out as he turned toward her, brown eyes sharp.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

The girl fidgeted with the sleeve of her robe, but her friend wasn’t nearly as cautious.

“You haven’t heard? Her ex said they broke up because she wouldn’t put out,” the friend explained matter-of-factly, not bothering to lower his voice.

Sebastian stared at them as a slow, creeping heat rose in his chest, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was feeling. Anger? Maybe. Amusement? Possibly. Relief? …Definitely.

Not that he let them know that.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than talk about things that aren’t your business?” he asked, his voice low and even.

The girl fidgeted more visibly now, her face paling. Her friend, however, didn’t seem to share the sense of self-preservation.

“Relax, Sallow,” he said with a smirk, leaning forward conspiratorially. “It’s not like we’re the only ones talking about it. It’s everywhere.”

Sebastian’s dark eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his temper in check.

“Well, maybe you should be the first ones to shut up about it.

“Alright, alright,” the friend muttered, holding up his hands defensively. “No need to get all defensive. I’m just saying what everyone’s already heard.”

“Right,” Sebastian drawled, his lip curling in disdain as he leaned back slightly, letting his glare linger just long enough to make them uncomfortable. “Because if everyone is doing it then it's totally fine to continue parroting garbage.''

That seemed to do the trick. The pair exchanged nervous glances before muttering half-hearted excuses and scurrying off like rats abandoning a sinking ship.

But of course, it wasn’t just the younger students gossiping. For the rest of the day, he caught snippets of conversations in the corridors, in classrooms, even in the common room that evening. It was everywhere, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, his curiosity got the better of him.

That night, he found you in the Undercroft, just like he’d expected.

The moment Sebastian stepped through the arched entrance, the tension in his shoulders eased. The familiar hum of magic in the air wrapped around him like a blanket, muting the noise of the outside world. The Undercroft had always been your shared refuge—a place where the two of you could escape from everything else.

And there you were, sitting on the floor near the far wall, legs crossed with a book resting on your lap. Your back was straight, your expression focused, but the way your shoulders hunched slightly told him everything he needed to know. You weren’t fine.

Sebastian leaned against one of the stone columns, crossing his arms as he watched you for a moment. He could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy like a storm waiting to break. Part of him didn’t want to say anything, didn’t want to push you when you clearly needed space.

But the other part of him—the louder, more stubborn part, the part that wanted the rumor to be true—refused to stay quiet, because the thought of you being with someone else—being close to someone else—had always tied him up in knots. And your ex? That prat? The six months you’d spent with him had been absolutely torturous for Sebastian.

He’d never told you, of course. He’d plastered on his usual smirk, rolled his eyes every time you mentioned the guy’s name, and thrown in the occasional jab about how you could do better. But every time you left to meet him, every time he’d see the two of you sitting together at meals or laughing in the courtyard, it had felt like a gut punch.

He’d spent more nights than he cared to admit lying awake in the Slytherin dormitory, staring up at the canopy of his bed with his heart pounding and his mind racing. He hated the thought of someone else holding your hand, kissing you, whispering things in your ear that he didn’t dare say aloud.

Not that he should’ve been surprised. Every guy at Hogwarts had pined after you since fifth year. You were fearless, funny, and maddeningly brilliant. You were the one who had charged headfirst into danger when Ranrok threatened everything, the one who’d become a legend among your peers before you even hit sixteen.

And on top of all that, you were beautiful. Not the kind of beauty that demanded attention, but the kind that pulled people in without you even trying. You didn’t seem to realize the effect you had on people, and maybe that’s what made it worse.

Because Sebastian had known, from the moment he met you, that you were going to ruin him.

And now, standing here in the Undercroft, watching you hunch slightly under the weight of a stupid rumor, all those feelings surged to the surface. The relief, the jealousy, the guilt. He wanted the rumor to be true—wanted it to be true so badly that it scared him.

"So..." he start slowly, "You want to talk about it?"

You startled slightly, your head snapping up to meet his gaze. For a moment, you didn’t say anything, your eyes narrowing as if trying to figure out his angle. Then you huffed, snapping your Charms textbook shut and tossing it onto the floor beside you.

“Not really,” you muttered, your tone sharper than usual.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk despite the tension in his chest.

“Come on,” he pressed, his voice softer now but still laced with that familiar teasing edge. “It’s me. You can tell me anything."

Your expression darkened as you stood abruptly, brushing dust off your robes. “What’s there to talk about, Sebastian? It’s just a stupid rumor.”

“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched you pace the length of the room.

You stopped mid-step, your shoulders stiffening before you turned to face him fully. “Yes, it is,” you snapped, your voice rising slightly. “But apparently, the entire school thinks it’s their business now.”

Sebastian studied you carefully, his smirk fading. He could see the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface, the way your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides. This wasn’t like you. You were always so steady, so unshakable, the kind of person who didn’t care what anyone thought. But now? Now you looked… rattled.

“They’re idiots,” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder. “You know that.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as you turned away from him. “Doesn’t stop them from talking, does it?”

Sebastian pushed off the column, closing the distance between you with a few lazy steps. He stopped just a foot or two away, his voice low and careful as he said, “So… is it true?”

You froze, and for a moment, the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Then, slowly, crossed defensively over your chest.

"That's not your business, Sebastian."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk—too soft, too careful—but still undeniably him. He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriatingly patient look he reserved for when he wasn’t ready to let something go.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “But you’re my best friend, so I’m making it my business.”

You glared at him, your arms tightening over your chest. “Why? So you can laugh about it like everyone else?”

That stung, more than he wanted to admit. His smirk faltered, his brows knitting together as he took a step closer.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softening. “You know me better than that.”

Your gaze flickered, uncertainty flashing across your face before you looked away, your jaw tightening.

Sebastian let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. He didn’t want to push you, not when you were already on edge, but the knot in his chest refused to loosen.

“Look,” he started, his tone gentler now, “I don’t care what everyone’s are saying. They don’t know you—not really. And whatever your ex said? That just proves how much of a git he is.”

You scoffed, your eyes snapping back to his. “You hated him before this, Sebastian. Don’t act like this is some new revelation.”

“You’re right,” he said, his grin creeping back, though it was tempered by something warmer. “I did hate him. Still do. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was less fire in the gesture now, as though his words had chipped away at some of the tension in your shoulders.

Sebastian took another step closer, the space between you shrinking until he could see the way your hands trembled as you fidgeted with the fabric of your sleeve. He tilted his head, his eyes meeting yours.

“So,” he said slowly, “you’re not going to deny it?”

You hesitated, your throat working as you swallowed hard. “Why does it matter to you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. Sebastian’s heart thudded in his chest, the truth clawing at the back of his throat. He could feel it pressing against his ribs, begging to be let out.

But instead, he shrugged, forcing a casual grin. “It doesn’t,” he lied. “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“Why not?” you asked, your voice sharper now, defensive.

He hesitated, his grin faltering for a split second before he recovered. “Because it’s you,” he said, his tone quieter now. “You’re… you. Brave, reckless, brilliant—and gorgeous, by the way, not that you ever seem to notice.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, clearly caught off guard by the compliment. He couldn't really blame you. Sebastian almost always avoided saying anything that got too close to the truth of his feelings.

But he pressed on, his voice softening further. “You could have anyone you wanted. Hell, half the guys in school are practically lining up for a chance. So yeah, I just assumed…” He trailed off, shrugging again, though the motion felt heavier this time.

“Well, you assumed wrong,” you muttered, shifting your weight awkwardly.

The confirmation leaving your lips had Sebastian’s thoughts grinding to a halt, his mind caught somewhere between relief and confusion.

By principle, Sebastian didn’t care how many people someone had slept with—or if they hadn’t slept with anyone at all. It wasn’t something he judged people for. Hell, he was hardly a paragon of chastity. His own reputation preceded him—half the school whispered about his escapades, and he didn’t exactly go out of his way to deny the rumors. He wore the label of "man whore" like a badge of honor, not because he particularly enjoyed the attention, but because it was easier than letting anyone see the truth.

And the truth was simple: all of it—every fleeting flirtation, every casual hookup, every whispered name—had been nothing more than a distraction. A way to dull the ache of wanting something he could never have.

So when it came to you, his principles fell apart. The selfish, possessive part of him—the part he usually tried to shove into a dark corner of his mind—was pleased. Pleased that you were still untouched. Pleased that he might still have a chance to be your first, and if he had his way, he’d be your only.

He shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t fidget. “Well,” he said softly, his voice dipping into something quieter, something that wasn’t quite teasing but still carried the edge of a grin. “…Good.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him. “Good?” you repeated, your voice sharp with disbelief.

“Yeah,” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer, something real. “Good. It means you didn’t let that asshole have something he didn’t deserve.”

You blinked at him, clearly caught off guard by his words. For a moment, you just stared, like you were trying to figure him out, to dig past the layers of teasing and bravado to whatever truth lay beneath.

"You're oddly fixated on this." You observed.

Sebastian could feel the truth clawing at him, desperate to be set free, but instead, he forced a shrug, his smirk creeping back into place.

“I'm not fixated,” he lied, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue. “I just think you deserve better than someone like him.”

You rolled your eyes, though the gesture lacked its usual fire. “You’ve been saying that since the day I started dating him.”

“Because it’s true,” Sebastian shot back, his grin widening just enough to show a hint of teeth. “You’re amazing, and he… well, he was decidedly not.”

The faintest smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and Sebastian’s chest tightened at the sight. He would’ve given anything to see that smile directed at him forever.

“Thanks, I guess,” you muttered, though your cheeks were still flushed, and you shifted awkwardly under his gaze.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the air between you thick. Sebastian could feel it—the tension, the weight of everything he wasn’t saying—and he knew, deep down, that this moment was teetering on the edge of something neither of you could take back.

And then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he said, “You know… if you ever wanted to change that status, you could always come to me.”

Your eyes widened, and your mouth fell open slightly as you stared at him, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

He shrugged, trying to keep his tone light even as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest. “I mean, you trust me, right? And I’m…” He paused, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Well, let’s just say I have experience.”

You groaned, "Seb, I really don't want to hear about how you fucked three girls in one night in three separate broom closets, okay? You sexcapades are not exactly my favorite topic."

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard by your blunt response. Then he burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the Undercroft. It wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, apparently, because your glare deepened, but there was a flicker of something softer in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe exasperation.

“Why not?” he asked, grinning wide, leaning slightly closer. “You don’t find my sexcapades entertaining?”

“No,” you shot back, though your lips twitched like you were fighting a smile. “They’re revolting. And the fact that half the school thinks you’re incapable of keeping it in your pants doesn’t entertain me nor scream trustworthy.”

Sebastian pressed a hand to his chest. “Ouch. Way to attack my character”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks were flushed. “You practically brag about it. You’re always smirking when people bring it up, like it’s some badge of honor.”

“Maybe I’m just giving them what they want,” Sebastian shot back smoothly, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “You know how people are. They love a good story.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “So you didn’t hook up with three girls in one night?”

Sebastian hesitated, his grin faltering for a split second. “Well, I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Yes, I have a bit of a reputation. But let’s be honest—none of it actually matters. It’s not like I care about any of the girls I hook up with.”

You frowned at him, your gaze narrowing. “Then why do it?”

Sebastian blinked. For a moment, his smirk slipped completely, and the air between you grew heavier. But then, just as quickly, he recovered, his lips twitching into that familiar, teasing grin.

“Well,” he started, his tone light but laced with mischief, “it’s better than getting myself off alone in bed ten feet from Ominis, isn’t it?”

Your jaw dropped, and you gawked at him, absolutely dumbfounded. “Sebastian!”

“What?” he said, shrugging innocently, though the grin on his face was anything but. “I’m just saying. Can you imagine?” He raised his voice, mimicking Ominis’s clipped, proper tone. “‘Really, Sebastian? At two in the morning? Some of us enjoy sleep.’”

You stared at him, torn between horror and the urge to laugh, your cheeks burning. “I didn’t need to know that!”

“Sure you did,” he said, clearly pleased with himself. “Now you understand why I’ve had to… broaden my horizons.”

“Broaden your horizons?” you repeated, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “That’s what you’re calling it?”

“Well, what would you call it?” he shot back, his grin widening.

“I’d call it—” You cut yourself off, groaning as you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

Sebastian laughed, the sound warm and rich, and for a moment, it felt like the tension between you had lifted. But then his laughter faded, and he took a step closer, his expression softening into something more serious.

“Look,” he said, his tone quieter now, more honest. “What I’m really trying to say is that if…” He swallowed hard, and for a brief moment, he considered stopping—considered leaving it unsaid. But then he met your eyes, and something in your gaze spurred him on, despite every instinct screaming at him to shut up.

“If you’re planning on… you know, getting it over with,” he forced out, his voice low and uneven, “then I’ll help.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Help?”

Sebastian nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets to stop them from fidgeting. “Yeah. I’ll… I don’t know. Give you the dirt on whoever you’re thinking about. Tell you if they’re decent, or if they’re just going to make things worse for you.”

Your expression shifted from confusion to something closer to disbelief. “Seb, are you seriously offering to vet potential guys for me?”

“Well, someone has to,” he said, his grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean, let’s face it—your taste hasn’t exactly been stellar so far.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat behind the gesture. “Gee, thanks.”

“I’m just saying,” he pressed, leaning slightly closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “If you’re going to do this, you might as well make sure it’s with someone who’s not going to screw it up—or worse, brag about it to half the school.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your arms still crossed over your chest. “Why would you even offer that?”

Sebastian hesitated, the mask slipping for a split second as he tried to find the right words.

“Because you’re my best friend,” he said finally, the words tasting both honest and hollow at the same time. “And I don’t want you to regret it.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged, and Sebastian felt his heart thudding in his chest. The truth was, it wasn’t just about you. Not entirely. A selfish part of him couldn’t bear the thought of someone else being close to you in a way he wasn’t. Offering to help—offering to vet anyone you might consider—felt like a way to keep some semblance of control over a situation that made his stomach churn.

Because now he had a second chance at this. And if you went through with it, if you let someone else touch you, have you in a way that Sebastian could only dream of, he didn’t know what he’d do.

He told himself it was noble—that he was doing this for your sake, to protect you from making a mistake. But deep down, he knew it was self-serving, a desperate attempt to steer you away from anyone else while he tried to gather the courage to tell you the truth.

“Well, I’m not… planning anything,” you said at length, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, the knot in his chest loosening just slightly at your words. He hadn’t realized just how tightly he’d been wound, how much tension he’d been carrying since this stupid rumor started spreading.

“Good,” he said, his tone gentler now, though he couldn’t stop the faint smile that tugged at his lips. “Because honestly? Most of the guys around here are prats. You’d be better off waiting two months until after Hogwarts. At least then you won’t be stuck hearing about it in the Great Hall for weeks.”

You hummed thoughtfully, tilting your head as if considering his words. “And… if you were vetting yourself… would you approve?”

Sebastian froze, his usual quick wit momentarily failing him as his brain scrambled for a response. “I—what?” he stammered, caught entirely off guard. “That’s—that’s not—”

“Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it?” you cut in, your tone light but pointed as you smirked at him. “You were just interrogating me about my sex life. Why shouldn’t I get to turn the tables and question you back?”

Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to even begin responding. His mind was racing, caught somewhere between indignation, panic, and the nagging realization that he’d never actually considered it before—but now that he had, the answer was glaringly obvious.

He wouldn’t pass his own vetting.

Not even close.

If the situation were reversed, if someone like him were sniffing around you, Sebastian would shut it down faster than you could blink. He wouldn’t just give a list of reasons why the guy wasn’t good enough for you; he’d give a dissertation.

The reckless streak. The reputation. The countless rumors of broom closet escapades. It didn’t matter that most of them were exaggerated, or that none of it had ever meant anything.

And that wasn’t even scratching the surface. Because beyond the gossip and the bravado and the endless teasing, Sebastian knew himself. He knew the flaws that weren’t just rumors. The impulsiveness. The temper. The way he threw himself into things without thinking, consequences be damned.

If he were vetting himself for you, the answer would be painfully clear: absolutely not.

But here you were, watching him with a raised eyebrow and that infuriating, knowing little smirk, like you were daring him to come up with an answer that didn’t make him look like an idiot.

“Well?” you prompted, your tone light but laced with curiosity. “Would you pass?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, stalling for time as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “That’s… an unfair question,” he said finally.

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“Because you’re not trying to get with me,” Sebastian said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth, like he’d swallowed something he couldn’t spit out.

But then something happened that he didn’t anticipate.

You didn’t respond.

Your mouth opened, as though you were about to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you just stared at him, your eyes wide and searching, your expression unreadable. Slowly, your cheeks began to flush, a deep warmth spreading across your face.

Sebastian froze, his own grin faltering as confusion flickered across his face. “What?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You blinked, quickly snapping your mouth shut, and for a moment, it looked like you might try to play it off. But the blush only deepened, spreading to the tips of your ears as you looked away, fidgeting with the sleeve of your robe.

Sebastian’s stomach flipped. He didn’t know what to make of this—of you.

You, who could go toe-to-toe with him in every argument, every tease, every prank. You, who always seemed so steady, so sure of yourself, now standing there, cheeks aflame and uncharacteristically quiet.

“Wait,” he said slowly, his voice dropping as he stepped closer, his brows furrowing. “What—"

“It's nothing,” you said quickly, your tone higher than usual as you avoided his gaze.

Sebastian blinked, his mind grinding to a halt as he stared at you. Slowly, like puzzle pieces falling into place, the realization began to wash over him.

“Is it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge gone.

You froze. “Sebastian, don’t,” you said softly, but there was no bite to your words—no real protest.

Sebastian’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. It certainly was not nothing.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t agree with me.”

You winced, your cheeks burning even brighter as you finally glanced up at him. “Seb…”

“No, no, hang on,” he said quickly, his mind racing as he took a step closer, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “Are you—wait, are you saying that you would—” He cut himself off, his voice catching in his throat as the weight of the moment hit him. “Bloody hell—"

“Sebastian, please,” you cut in quickly, your voice rising just enough to interrupt him. Your hands flew up as if to stop his words before they could leave his mouth. You were panicking now, trying to salvage the moment, the heat in your cheeks only growing more intense. “It’s not— I didn’t mean— Look, it’s nothing, alright? Just forget I said anything.”

“Forget it?” he repeated, his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he was sure you could hear it. “Are you serious? You expect me to just… move on like you didn’t just almost admit—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard, his voice dropping lower. “Like you didn’t just make me think that you might—”

“Sebastian, don’t,” you interrupted, your voice trembling as you took a half-step back. “This is stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“But you didn’t even say anything,” he countered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a step closer, closing the distance you were trying to put between you. “You didn’t have to. I saw it on your face.”

You flinched at that, your lips pressing into a thin line as your gaze flickered downward.

“Look at me,” Sebastian said softly, his tone lacking its usual teasing edge. “Please.”

You hesitated, your shoulders tensing, but eventually, you lifted your gaze to meet his. Your eyes were wide, brimming with uncertainty, vulnerability, and something else he couldn’t quite name—but it was enough to make his chest ache.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me I’m not imagining this."

You opened your mouth, your throat working as you struggled to find the words. Sebastian thought you might deny it again, that you’d laugh it off and shove him back into the safe, familiar box of your friendship. But then you closed your eyes, exhaling shakily.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you admitted, your voice quiet but steady. “You’re not imagining things. But this… this doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t mean anything?” he repeated, his brows furrowing as the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Not like that,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just mean… it doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Sebastian said, his voice firmer now, more insistent. “And neither am I.”

You blinked at him, startled by the intensity in his tone, and Sebastian felt a flicker of hope spark in his chest.

“Do you know how long I’ve been—” He stopped himself, letting out a shaky laugh as he raked a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Sebastian...”

“No, listen,” he said, cutting you off as he stepped even closer, his voice dropping into something softer, more vulnerable. “I’ve been driving myself mad for years thinking that I’d have to spend the rest of my life pretending that I’m okay with just being your friend. And now you’re here, blushing like mad, trying to convince me that this doesn’t mean anything, when it’s the only thing I’ve wanted to mean everything.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the air between you crackling with tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

“Tell me I’m not wrong,” he said, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “Tell me that you’ve thought about this, about us. Because if you haven’t, I’ll let it go. I’ll never bring it up again. But if you have…” He trailed off, his chest heaving as he waited for your answer, every nerve in his body on edge.

You stared at him, your lips parted slightly as you struggled to find the words. And then, finally, you let out a shaky breath, your shoulders relaxing as you whispered, “I have.”

Sebastian’s heart stopped.

"So you... you want me?"

You huffed a laugh, your gaze flickering away. "Of course I want you,” you mumbled. “I’ve wanted you since we met."

The world seemed to tilt beneath Sebastian’s feet. His legs felt unsteady, his chest too tight to contain everything that had been bottled up inside him for years. All the late nights he’d spent staring at the canopy of his bed, wishing things were different. All the times he’d watched you smile at him, laugh with him, and ached for something he thought he could never have. And now, here you were, saying the very thing he’d been terrified to let himself hope for.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair as a shaky laugh escaped him. He felt dazed, like he’d just been hit with a Confundus Charm. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your brows furrowed, and the corners of your mouth dipped down. “Seb, if you’re about to make a joke—”

Sebastian didn’t let you finish. He closed the distance between you, his hands coming up to gently cradle your face as his lips crashed into yours.

You froze for a split second, caught off guard, but then you melted into him, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as if to anchor yourself.

Sebastian kissed you like his life depended on it, like you were air and he’d been suffocating.

And in that moment, he realized he had been suffocating, drowning in his feelings for you and his fear of ruining everything. But now, with you in his arms, kissing him back like this was where you’d always meant to be, he felt like he could finally breathe.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you were breathless. His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, his hands still cupping your face as though he was afraid to let go.

"So... you want me too?" Your voice was small, almost uncertain, like you still couldn’t quite believe it yourself.

He let out a breathless laugh, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “I thought I made that pretty clear,” he said softly, his lips twitching into a small, crooked smile. “But yeah. I want you. I’ve wanted you since… well, since the first time you insulted my dueling form.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, the sound light and shaky, but genuine. “That was years ago.”

“Exactly,” he said, his grin widening.

Your expression shifted. Your eyes, still soft from the kiss, suddenly took on that sharp edge he knew all too well.

He’d seen that look a hundred times before—right before you suggested something outrageous, something that would almost certainly land the two of you in trouble. But this time, it was different. This time, the stakes felt infinitely higher, and Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat as he watched you, holding his breath.

“What?” he asked cautiously.

You leaned back slightly, studying him with that mischievous gleam in your eyes, and Sebastian swore his heart was about to give out.

“Well,” you started slowly, your lips curving into a playful smirk. “If we’re being honest about what we want…”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his hands still resting on your cheeks. “Go on,” he said, though his voice was rough.

Your hands slid down his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you leaned closer. “You said you’d help me if I ever wanted to change my…status,” you said, your voice dropping into something softer, something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Does that offer still stand?”

Sebastian’s breath caught. His eyes widened slightly, searching your face for any sign that you might be joking, but all he saw was that familiar confidence, the same fire that had drawn him to you in the first place.

“You’re not serious,” he said, though his voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions swirling in his chest—hope, fear, and something that felt dangerously close to pure, unfiltered desire.

You tilted your head, your smirk softening into something gentler, something that made his stomach flip. “Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked quietly.

Sebastian couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He just stood there, staring at you like he was committing this moment to memory—like he needed to be sure it was real before he dared let himself believe it. Then, slowly, a small, crooked smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Well,” he said, his voice rough but tinged with a teasing lilt, “I’d be an idiot to say no, but..."

"But?"

Sebastian’s voice dropped, softer now, almost hesitant. “But if we do this… I need you to understand something.” His thumbs brushed gently over your cheeks, his gaze searching yours. "I don’t want this to be some casual thing. I don’t want it to be something we joke about tomorrow or pretend never happened."

Your teasing smirk faltered, your expression softening as the weight of his words sank in. “Sebastian…” you started, your voice quieter now, almost uncertain.

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, shaking his head slightly as though to clear his thoughts. "Fuck, I'm in love with you and I want you forever. I want all of you. And I need to know that this is what you want too. Because if we do this—if we cross that line—I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back. I don’t want to go back. "

Your laugh was soft, shaky, but warm enough to chase away the tension tightening Sebastian’s chest. “Sebastian, you absolute idiot,” you said, your voice a mix of amusement and affection. “I love you too. You already had my forever."

Sebastian froze. You loved him. You loved him.

With a low, broken sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, he pulled you to him, his lips crashing against yours.

"Then yes," he said against your lips, "The offer still stands."

His lips crashing into yours, Sebastian backed you up slowly until you pressed against the cool, rough surface of the wall. His hands slid down your sides, his touch warm and firm, before they found your thighs. With a low, breathless groan, he lifted you, his fingers curling around the soft flesh beneath your skirt. The warmth of your skin against his palms made his head spin, and a shaky moan escaped his lips as he pressed you tighter against him.

He was in heaven. After so much imagining, so many stolen glances and sleepless nights spent wanting this—wanting you—he finally got to touch you, hold you, have you. And the way you clung to him, your legs wrapping around his waist as your hands tangled in his hair, only made it better. Perfect, even.

Your kisses were desperate, almost frantic, and every press of your lips, every flick of your tongue sent fire racing through his veins. When you broke away from his mouth, trailing kisses along his jaw before latching onto the sensitive skin of his neck, he let out a deep, shuddering breath, his head tipping back slightly to give you more access.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse as your teeth grazed his skin. “You’re driving me mad.”

You didn’t stop, didn’t so much as pause, as you nipped at his neck, your lips soothing the sting with soft kisses before you sucked gently, leaving faint marks in your wake. Your hands slid down to his chest, tugging at the buttons of his shirt, and Sebastian could only chuckle breathlessly, his voice rough with want.

“Impatient, are we?” he teased, though his own hands were just as restless, roaming your thighs and hips like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Shut up,” you muttered, your tone sharp but breathless as you finally yanked the fabric apart, buttons clattering to the floor.

Sebastian’s hands tightened on your thighs, his arousal growing almost unbearable as you continued your assault on his senses. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he knew he couldn’t take much more of this—of you.

With a low, frustrated growl, he pulled back slightly, carrying you to one of the worn-out couches in the corner. The cushions creaked under your combined weight as he set you down gently, his body covering yours as he leaned over you, his hands braced on either side of your head.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his dark eyes roaming your face as though committing every detail to memory, because you were a vision, and the fact that you were here, with him, looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered, nearly undid him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with reverence.

Your lips parted slightly, a faint, breathless laugh escaping as you reached up to cup his cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself."

Sebastian huffed a laugh, and his lips found their way back to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin with a newfound urgency. His hands slid along your sides, his fingers skimming the fabric of your sweater until they found the hem. He paused for just a moment, giving you a chance to stop him, but when you arched into him, your silent permission, he tugged the material upward.

The sweater caught slightly as he pulled it over your head, and you laughed softly, the sound muffled by the fabric. “Impatient are we?” you mocked breathlessly as he tossed the garment aside.

“Can you blame me?” he shot back, his voice low and gravelly as his hands immediately found your waist again, sliding up to palm you over your bra. His fingers curled around the soft fabric, thumbs brushing over the lace, and his breath hitched when you let out a soft, barely audible moan at the contact.

“Fuck,” Sebastian muttered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he squeezed gently, his touch reverent, almost hesitant. “You’re perfect. I’ve thought about this so many times, and it doesn’t even come close to—” He broke off, his words dissolving into a groan as you arched into him again, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“You think too much,” you murmured, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as your hands found their way to his chest, exploring the warm, firm planes of muscle beneath your fingers. “Just feel.”

Sebastian let out a soft laugh, though it was shaky and tinged with desperation as he pressed a kiss to your collarbone. “Oh, believe me,” he said, his voice rough, “I’m feeling plenty.”

His lips trailed lower, down the column of your neck and across your chest, lingering just above the edge of your bra. His hands slid around your back, fumbling slightly as he searched for the clasp, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his eagerness.

“Need some help?” you teased, though your voice was just as breathless as his.

“Shut it,” he grumbled, though there was no real heat in his tone. When he finally managed to unhook it, the fabric loosened, and Sebastian pulled it away slowly, almost reverently, his eyes darkening as they roamed over you.

“God,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he cupped you in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your bare skin. “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Your cheeks flushed under his gaze, but before you could respond, his mouth was on you, hot and insistent. His lips and tongue worked in tandem, drawing soft gasps and whimpers from you that only spurred him on. His hands explored every inch of you, mapping out the curves and dips of your body like he was committing them to memory.

And Merlin, you were just as eager, your hands slipping down his back, your nails grazing his skin as you tugged him closer, your legs wrapping around his waist once more. Every touch, every kiss, every breath shared between you was electric, setting your nerves alight and leaving you both trembling with need.

“Sebastian,” you murmured, his name a plea on your lips as you arched into him, your hands tugging at the waistband of his trousers.

He groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he tried to steady himself, his breathing ragged. “You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips betrayed the heat and affection swirling in his chest.

“Then die happy,” you shot back, your hands working to unbutton his trousers

Sebastian’s laugh was low and breathless, his hands momentarily leaving your body as he stood to slide the the fabric down his legs, and he decided that if this was the end, if you were the last thing he ever got to hold, he would die the happiest man alive.

His hands trembled slightly as they found your hips, his fingers curling around the waistband of your skirt. Slowly, almost reverently, he began to tug the fabric down, revealing more of you with each passing second.

His heart thundered in his chest when the fabric slid past your thighs, pooling at your knees before he finally discarded it onto the floor. Now, with both of you stripped down to nothing but your underwear, the reality of the moment hit him like a lightning strike.

His arousal, already insistent, became nearly unbearable, straining against the fabric of his boxers as his gaze swept over you. Splayed out on the worn couch, your hair spilled like a halo across the cushions, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, and every inch of you seemed to beckon him closer. The taut peaks of your breasts, flushed and bare to him, drew his attention, sending a sharp pang of need coursing through him. Your kiss-bruised lips, slightly swollen and parted, were enough to leave him breathless, but it was the way your thighs pressed together, your hips shifting slightly, and the soft flush painting your skin that nearly broke his restraint.

You squirmed under his gaze, your cheeks burning a lovely pink that traveled down to your neck, and Sebastian was certain he’d never seen anything more stunning in his life.

Sebastian sank down onto the couch, hovering over you once more, his arms braced on either side of your head as he took in every detail of your expression. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might break through his ribs. But when his eyes met yours, he faltered.

There, just beneath the heat and want in your gaze, was a flicker of something softer—nerves, apprehension.

This was your first time.

The gravity of it settled heavily on his chest all over again, eclipsing the raw desire that had been driving him just seconds ago. As much as he wanted to let his instincts take over, to lose himself in the sheer need coursing through him, he knew he couldn’t—he wouldn’t—rush this.

He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, one hand coming up to gently cradle your face. The tenderness of the gesture seemed to soothe the tension in your body, and he felt you relax slightly beneath him.

“We don’t have to do this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice soft and steady. “If you’re not ready—if you need more time—just say the word, and we’ll stop. No questions, no pressure. I mean it.”

Your lips parted as you stared up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Your hands slid up to rest on his shoulders. “I want this,” you said, your voice quiet but sure. “I’m ready, Seb. I trust you.”

Sebastian closed his eyes briefly, exhaling slowly as relief and affection washed over him. When he opened them again, his gaze was softer, his brow furrowed slightly as he studied you. “If I do something you don’t like,” he said gently, “or if you change your mind at any point, just tell me. Promise me.”

“I promise."

Sebastian nodded, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “Alright,” he murmured, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips before he shifted back. After sliding your thong down your legs, his hands reached for your knees, his fingers curling around them as he gently urged your legs apart. His touch was firm but careful, like he was holding something fragile and precious.

When his gaze dropped to the space between your thighs, a low, guttural groan escaped him, unbidden. He braced himself with one hand on your knee, the other sliding along your inner thigh as though drawn there by instinct.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

“Seb…” you murmured, your voice trembling as you reached for him, your fingers brushing against his forearm.

He met your gaze, his expression softening as he smiled—a small, lopsided grin that carried all the affection and adoration he couldn’t put into words. “I’ve got you,” he said softly, his hand sliding to your hip as he settled between your legs. “I promise, I’ve got you.”

Sebastian leaned forward again, his hands framing your hips as he lowered himself over you. He felt your trembling hands move to the waistband of his boxers, your fingers brushing against his skin. He bit his lip, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tried to keep his composure.

When you tugged gently, his hands left your body for just a moment as he helped slide the fabric down, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. He knelt there for a second, his heart pounding as he hovered above you, watching your reaction like it was the only thing that mattered.

The moment your gaze dropped, your breath caught audibly, your lips parting in surprise. Your eyes widened slightly before the surprise gave way to something deeper, something that made the heat in his chest bloom into something all-encompassing. The desire in your expression, raw and unguarded, left him completely undone.

Sebastian felt his face flush, a lopsided, slightly nervous smile tugging at his lips as he watched you take him in. “You alright?” he asked softly.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking back up to meet his, and he saw a glimmer of shyness there—so unlike the confident, unshakable version of you the rest of the world knew. “I’m... you're so..." he watched you swallow hard, hesitant yet heavy with want.

“I’m what?” he asked softly, his voice low and rough. He leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your hip, his touch warm and grounding. “Come on, sweetheart, don’t leave me hanging now.”

You swallowed again, your chest rising and falling with shallow, unsteady breaths. “You’re so big, I— will it hurt?"

Sebastian’s breath hitched at your words, a wave of satisfaction and desire crashing through him, leaving his heart pounding and his arousal almost unbearable. The raw honesty in your voice, the uncertainty paired with the compliment, made his chest ache with a mixture of pride and tenderness.

Still, the flicker of apprehension in your gaze snapped him back to the gravity of the moment. He couldn’t let the intensity of his need overpower what mattered most: you.

He exhaled slowly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“It might,” he admitted softly, his voice low and steady. “It might hurt a little at first. But I promise you, I’ll go slow—so slow—and I’ll stop the second you want me to. You just have to tell me, okay?”

Your lips parted slightly, your breath trembling as you nodded. “Okay."

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over your hip. “I swear, I’ll take care of you. I won’t let it be anything but good for you.”

You gave him a small, shaky smile, your fingers curling around the back of his neck to pull him closer. “I know."

Sebastian let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting briefly against yours as he reached down to position himself at your entrance. His hand trembled slightly—not from hesitation, but from the sheer weight of the moment, the overwhelming intensity of finally being this close to you, of having you completely. His eyes flicked up to meet yours one last time, searching for any trace of doubt.

“Breathe, love,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing as he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, your fingers curling into his skin as you drew him closer.

With infinite care, Sebastian began to press forward, his body taut with restraint as he eased himself into you. The moment he felt your warmth enveloping him, tight and slick and impossibly perfect, a low, guttural groan tore from his chest, his head dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough and breathless as he stilled, giving you time to adjust. “You feel… you feel so good. So fucking good.”

Your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping your lips as your body stretched to accommodate him. There was a slight pinch at first, an ache that made you tense momentarily, but Sebastian’s hands were there, grounding you, one cradling your hip while the other brushed soothing circles against your thigh.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice laced with both tenderness and the barest hint of desperation. “Just breathe, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

You nodded, exhaling shakily as you focused on his voice, his touch, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. Slowly, the discomfort began to fade, replaced by something deeper, something warmer.

Sebastian felt the change, the way your body softened beneath him, the way your fingers gripped his shoulders less tightly. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as he began to move again, inching deeper with agonizing slowness.

“You’re so tight,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe and desire. “So warm. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Your soft whimper in response had his restraint fraying at the edges and he fought to keep his movements measured. Every inch of you wrapped around him like a vice, and the heat and wetness of you was enough to drive him to the brink of madness.

“Sebastian,” you breathed, his name a plea on your lips as your hands slid up to tangle in his hair. “You can… you can move.”

He groaned softly, lifting his head to look at you. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice tight as he forced himself to hold still, his entire body trembling with the effort.

“Yes,” you whispered, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. “I’m ready.”

With a shaky exhale, Sebastian nodded, his hands tightening on your hips as he began rocking into you with slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation was overwhelming—your body clinging to him, so snug and impossibly warm, every movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through him.

“Fuck,” he muttered again, his head dropping to rest against yours as he found a rhythm, each thrust measured and careful, ensuring you had time to adjust.

Your soft moans and the way your body responded to him only spurred him on, his movements growing just a fraction deeper, more deliberate, as he let himself sink further into you. The way you arched beneath him, the way your nails grazed his skin, made his restraint fray further, but he forced himself to hold on. This was about you—making sure you felt safe, cherished, and utterly adored.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with affection as his lips brushed against your ear. “I need to know you’re okay.”

“It’s… it’s good,” you whispered, your voice trembling but full of warmth. “Better than good. You feel amazing, Seb.”

The sincerity in your voice made his chest tighten, his heart pounding as he pressed a series of soft, reverent kisses along your jaw. “You’re amazing,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re everything.”

And as he continued, his movements slow and deliberate, Sebastian let himself savor every moment, every sound, every touch, etching the memory into his soul, and he swore he’d spend the rest of his life making sure you knew just how deeply he cherished you.

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 days ago

Text

The Pact

Sebastian Sallow x Female reader (MC)

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

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

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

Part I: The Pact

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For you,” he said simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what if I’m no good at it?”

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

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

“Then I suppose Prewett will have to do.”

“Sebastian!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” you asked stupidly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Next stop?” you repeated blankly.

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

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

”Seb, you don’t have to-”

”Nothing but best for my lady.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Firewhiskey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”That, it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

”I do,” you managed.

”Well, we’re both 25 now.”

”We are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”But we’re-”

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

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

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

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

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

”All this time?”

”Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”I thought that was by design.”

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

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

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

”Apparently.”

”Are we stupid?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part II: The Vow

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mission accomplished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This night was no different.

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

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

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

Sebastian flashed his canines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Going to come for me?” he panted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #whizzing fizzbee fanfic #hogwarts legacy mc #hl #hl fanfic #hl fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #smut #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hl sebastian

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sapphira-mydnyte · 2 days ago

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Serpent King's Mating Mark

His claiming bite doesn't hurt, but instead, makes his mate inseparable from him & also makes their animagus match his. Ominis' animagus is definitely a snake, but it's up to his mate what type of snake they want to be. ♡

Ominis allows his mate to go through countless books of different snakes with different scale patterns so they can pick the one they want to become. All it'll take is him to enchant the picture of his mate's desired form with a memory charm. His wand shows it to him in some way & from there... his serpentine blood takes to it... loading his sharpened fangs with the magic needed to change his chosen mate. He's already part snake & that animal part of him does want a mate to enjoy & has been hoping to have one just as his human part has.

His bite does more than change the animagus form of his mate, it also twists into a beautiful little snake tattoo with his name & his mate's in it. It's of 2 snakes twisted into a heart with each snake being the animagus form each of them take. It can be made invisible for any given reason too. Ominis knows that some families don't approve of the ink, so he makes sure his mate doesn't get in trouble over it. However, it is HIS bite mark, so whoever sees it will know that Ominis is tracking his lover. Should any threat or harm befall his mate, the tattoo will glow & Ominis will know that his love is in danger. It doesn't matter where his mate is, because they're marked & Ominis can apparate straight to his mate's side. Nobody hurts Ominis' chosen mate & gets away with it... not ever.

Ominis having sharp canines as a genetic trait due to the ability to speak parseltongue gives me life

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt x oc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #king of snakes #slytherin #heir of slytherin

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iatnen · 3 days ago

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GRRRAAAAAGGHHGHRH BRO I JUST WNAT THWM TO START THROWING HANDS ALREADY

me when I have to actually write the reason they’re fighting 😞 me when I have to write all the stuff that leads up to the fight 😭😭😭 ME WHEN THERES NO FIGHT

#new fanfic idea: they beat each other up for no reason #tweaking #WHERES THE BAM WHERES THE POW #WHERES THE BOOMSHAKALAKA #toppings without the bread is not a pizza #yap #fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy

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choccy-milky · 18 days ago

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nowhere in hogwarts is safe to snog 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨🤺 one of my fav scenes from @myokk's oneshot "clumsy" which you can read here! its about seb and mc being stubborn idiots in denial of their own feelings while also pining after each other the entire time 🥰 GO READ IT!!💖💖

#my first fanart of a fic that isnt mine/about seb and clora......WHO IS SHE😳😳#maddy writes seb so good GO READ IT i got an ask asking me for fic recs and this may be the only one ive actually read but... I REC IT #OBVIOUSLY.... if my fanart of it wasnt obvious endorsement enough LMAO #i just love this trope/scene BAHHAA seb is that meme of the girl covering her ears while her brother blares a trumpet at her #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fic #omg i go into autopilot when i tag and i almost tagged clora clemons by accident but nuh uh not today #today its faceless nameless mc who totally isnt eloise or clora #choccyart

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anto-pops · 1 year ago

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Cheirophilia - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Following the summer leading up to your seventh year, you return to Hogwarts to discover that Sebastian has undergone changes that greatly appeal to the eye. Your eye, to be specific. There’s no easy way to tell the man you’ve been dating for two years that your attention has been fixed on a part of him otherwise deemed normal, but after a while, you’re forced to face the truth of the matter.

Alternatively summarized as you have a hand kink and Sebastian Sallow has extremely nice hands.

Word Count: 10.7k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, hand kink, size difference

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (with more diverse tags)

You had to be losing your mind. That was the only plausible explanation for the wild, unrestrained thoughts that had been plaguing your brain for the last week every time you so much as glanced at Sebastian. Yes, he was attractive. He was charming and confident, and quite frankly he was the epitome of male perfection as far as you were concerned. Not a day went by where you didn’t consider yourself lucky to be able to call him yours, and you knew he was just as enamored with you.

But your newfound infatuation with his hands had started relatively recently, and you had no clue what to make of it.

Sebastian was touchy to begin with, and he always had been. From casually brushing shoulders with you in the Great Hall during mealtimes, to tucking your hair behind your ears at night– the man was constantly finding ways to be closer to you, and your appreciation for his efforts knew no bounds. It made you feel treasured, wanted, revered, and a slew of other things that made your heart swell with affection. Maybe you could attribute your blatant ogling of his appendages to that, or maybe you had just finally started to notice after your Divination class last week.

Professor Onai, for all her outlandish preachings on clairvoyance, had taken a more mundane approach in teaching her students ‘fortune telling’ a few days ago. “Palm reading,” she had said, “is a delicate and fixed art. It can be as vague as it can be accurate, and it takes an expertly trained eye to decipher the true meaning behind the grooves in one’s hand.”

You were far from an expert in anything relating to Divination, but you did have an eye for nice things, and Merlin– were Sebastian’s hands exquisite. They were nearly twice the size of yours and covered in calluses, a lingering sign of the grueling physical labor he’d done over the summer in Feldcroft. His fingers weren’t as dainty as Ominis’, but they were long, thick, and lined with pulsing veins that stretched across the backs of his hands and coiled around his toned forearms. As you’d traced the lines on his palm with your fingers, he’d shivered at the featherlight feeling and chuckled at the deferential way you seemed to commit every part of the appendage to memory.

You didn’t even want to begin to recount the way your heart had hammered in your chest when it had been his turn to read your palm. Maintaining your composure had taken every ounce of willpower in your body.

Since then, your mind had wandered an unhealthy amount.

By some miracle, Sebastian hadn’t noticed your unwavering eye contact with his hands yet. The two of you had been kept preoccupied with the mountains of classwork that came with the start of the new school year, and as a result, your only opportunities to spend time with him had been during mealtimes. Today was different, however, because Lucan had finally set up the first Crossed Wands match of the season. You and Sebastian were both participating, and your boyfriend was all too eager to jump back into dueling after the summer months spent away.

Your eyes scanned him dutifully from across the room, watching with rapt interest as he chatted with Brattleby about the upcoming fight. Sebastian had grown considerably since your fifth-year, virtually towering over Lucan as he looked down at the curly haired Gryffindor. The latter had gone through a growth spurt of his own, but it was easy to overlook him when he was standing next to your boyfriend. Sebastian was big; broad shouldered with long, powerful legs and thick wrists that complimented his massive, mouthwatering hands.

Said hands were fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt as he rolled them up, nodding down at Lucan as he replied to something the younger boy had said. You didn’t know what they were discussing, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. His deft fingers adjusted his uniform as he prepared for your duo’s duel, and instead of following suit, you were unabashedly studying his every move. That is, until a voice from your left drew your attention.

“Did something happen over summer?”

You startled easily, warranting an eye roll from Imelda as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall. It was a rarity to find her in the Crossed Wands courtyard, but you knew she had been hounding members of the Quidditch team to prepare for trial runs and scrimmages, and Sebastian factored into that assortment of people. Schooling your nerves the best you could, you started to shed your robe in an effort to simultaneously get ready for the duel and distract from the metaphorical eye candy across the room.

“What do you mean,” you asked vaguely, keeping your eyes pointed at the floor as you moved.

Imelda was having none of it– clearly smarter than you deigned to give her credit for. “Don’t play coy with me. You’re always checking Sallow out, but since we’ve been back it’s ten times worse. Did he sprout a second cock or something?”

You damn near choked on your own tongue as you whipped around to glare at her. “Do you have to be so crass all the time?”

She waved you off, “Yes, I do. Who else would rile you up this way if not myself? Now answer the question.”

Heaving a deep sigh, you draped your robe over a stack of crates and began to gather your hair back into a loose braid as you muttered, “No, nothing happened over summer.”

“But something is going on. Come on,” she implored with a taunting tone, her brown eyes glimmering with amusement. “At least tell me if it’s something bad.”

“It’s not bad,” you relented. “It’s– I’m not sure what it is, to be honest. We haven’t even done anything since we’ve been back, we’ve been too busy. But…”

You trailed off, staring at the wall behind Imelda as you brought your hair over your shoulder to finish off the plait. She waited patiently, however, all too eager to get the inside scoop on your love life. “But?”

“I don’t know– have you ever found yourself focused on other body parts? Like, really random parts of another person?”

The Quidditch captain’s face shifted into a confused expression as she chanced a look at Sebastian, evidently trying to figure out what on Godric’s green Earth you were referring to. “Uh, no? If you’re talking about his feet though then I’m going to ask that you forget I even brought this up–”

“No!” You blurted loudly, drawing the attention of a handful of students in the courtyard, Sebastian included. He cocked a brow at you from across the room, and you flashed him a bashful smile in silent reply before mouthing a timid ‘sorry’. Imelda snickered under her breath when you turned back to her, a deep scowl settling on your face. “Dammit, not his fucking feet. I’m talking about his hands. He has really nice hands– I never noticed before.”

“You’re telling me you’ve had your knickers in a twist for the last week and a half because of Sallow’s hands?”

To say Imelda looked dumbstruck would be an understatement, and you suddenly felt incredibly stupid for having said anything at all. You kept your eyes downcast as you tossed your braided hair over your shoulder and slid your wand free from its holster, doing your best to ignore the woman’s burning stare. “Nevermind– forget I mentioned it.”

“I doubt I could even if I wanted to, but for the sake of your dignity I’ll go grab a seat and let you get your head in the game.” You felt your cheeks heat up instantly in response to her snide comment, and you lifted your eyes in time to watch Imelda turn towards the far corner of the room with a smile on her face. She paused before taking off, murmuring over her shoulder, “Make sure you’re paying attention to your opponents and not Sallow’s hands.”

Sweet Merlin… you should have kept your big mouth shut.

***

As it turned out, your head was so far out of the game that it became collateral in the midst of your duo’s duel.

It was your own fault, really. Despite doing your best to focus on the task at hand, your eyes had continually wandered over to Sebastian, tracking his movements as he fired spell after spell in retaliation against your opponents. He had always been exceptionally graceful while fighting– be it in Crossed Wands or in the Highlands at your side– and his sudden growth spurt over summer had only added to his preexisting agility. It was all too easy for you to get absorbed in his fluid movements as he ducked and rolled, then blocked and countered every attack with astonishing finesse.

Unfortunately, that meant you were left wholly unprepared for the Depulso charm that sent you careening across the room into a stack of crates. Your head had been positively spinning as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, but your vision cleared in time to watch as Sebastian abandoned the duel entirely to hurry over to where you lay prone against the broken wood. Lucan had shouted something about the match being called off, but you could hardly pay any attention to his words with Sebastian fretting over you, mere inches from your face.

“Merlin’s bloody balls, what the hell happened?” The brunet hadn’t even given you ample time to reply before he had hoisted you up in his strong, capable arms to carry you to the Hospital Wing.

That was how you’d ended up where you were now; laid out in an uncomfortable hospital bed with Nurse Blainey hovering too close for comfort while your boyfriend sat beside you with his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. His expression was virtually unreadable, but you weren’t able to focus on him for long without your head pounding in silent protest.

“Drink this,” Nurse Blainey dutifully instructed, thrusting a vial of Wiggenweld in front of you as she scanned your bandaged temple. “It will help with the swelling and the gods-awful headache I’m sure you’re sporting. My diagnostic spells came back negative for any internal injuries, but that doesn’t mean you can rush back to your foolhardy dueling club. A concussion is a concussion, no matter how small.”

Your tongue felt like lead in your mouth so you nodded in response instead of speaking– only to instantly regret the movement. Sharp, concentrated pain shot through your head, and you took it as a sign to carefully knock back the contents of the potion she’d given you. A soothing warmth overtook you in a split second, and the throbbing in your skull lessened considerably, prompting you to relax against the pillows situated behind you as your eyelids fluttered. Evidently pleased with your subdued demeanor, Nurse Blainey jotted something down on the clipboard that had been tucked under her arm before turning to Sebastian.

“I trust that you’ll ensure she actually takes it easy for the next few days, Mr. Sallow?”

Your eyes cracked open in time to watch Sebastian’s gaze flicker to yours, and the muscle in his jaw ticked as his attention zero’d in on the thick bandage that now adorned your head. “Of course. She’ll be a model patient for as long as needed.”

Satisfied with his agreement, Nurse Blainey pivoted on her heel and strode to the back end of the room, leaving you and Sebastian alone in a tense silence.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you gathered your hands in your lap and let your head tip back against the bed frame, wanting nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. All of this because you couldn’t stop ogling your boyfriend for a measly twenty minutes when it mattered most… it was an embarrassing and stupid mistake to acknowledge. Moreover, you’d basically ruined the first Crossed Wands duel of the season– something you knew had to be bothering Sebastian, given his competitive nature.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled half-heartedly. “I should have been paying closer attention.”

Sebastian scoffed to your left, and when you peered at him through the corner of your eye, his head looked like it was on the verge of imploding. “Are you seriously apologizing for getting a concussion right now?”

There was no stopping the frown that spread across your face, and you nervously started picking at your cuticles as your mouth opened, shut, then opened again. “Yes– I mean– no. I’m sorry that the match got canceled because of me. You were probably excited to get back into Crossed Wands and I just… messed it up. I wasn’t thinking clearly out there.”

��Obviously,” Sebastian countered easily, the amused glimmer in his eyes vanishing before you could take proper note of it. “You’re never one to let your mind wander when you fight, but you have to know I’m not mad about the duel. I was worried about you– I don’t think you realize how terrifying it is to see you of all people bleeding.”

You gaze fell to your lap as you pursed your lips and lifted your hand to the bandage taped to your temple, trying and failing to recall if you’d actually bled at all. It was all something of a blur if you were being honest. When you looked up at Sebastian once more, he had sat forward in his seat and was reaching towards you, wearing an expression that was equal parts concerned and curious. With your brain still muddled, all you could really do was stare wide-eyed at the nearing culprit of your misfortune; his Merlin-be-damned hands. Those long, flexing digits came to gently stroke the side of your cheek, turning your head to the side briefly to allow him a good look at your patched up face, and as Sebastian tsk’d disapprovingly, you were fighting back a slew of unholy thoughts that had no business arising in the midst of such a tender moment.

The side of his mouth quirked up as he thought back to your debacle in the clock tower courtyard. “Did your inability to ‘think clearly’ have anything to do with whatever you and Imelda were talking about earlier?”

Being reminded of your discussion with the Slytherin woman at such an inopportune time caused your face to flush a deep red, and you nervously clasped your boyfriend’s larger hand in your notably smaller one and drew it into your lap. You gently thumbed over the veins on the back of his hand, taking note of the constellation of freckles that ran up his wrist and forearm, and you saw Sebastian tilt his head to the side as he let you fondle the limb.

“Maybe…” you drawled lazily. Perhaps you would chalk it up to your concussion later on, or perhaps you just wanted to get your insane obsession off your chest. Regardless of the why, you steeled your nerves and swallowed thickly before muttering, “You have really nice hands.”

Silence. Sebastian said nothing– and that was considerably worse than him saying something– anything. Your brows slammed down just as you lifted your head to gauge his reaction, only to discover a bewildered smile plastered on his smarmy face.

“…I think you hit your head harder than I thought. Should I call Nurse Blainey back over here?”

Ah. He thought you were delusional. Brilliant.

Letting go of him as though his skin were heated metal, you sighed and sat forward to swing your legs over the edge of the bed, shivering slightly when Sebastian placed his hand on your hip to steady you. His face conveyed genuine apprehension as he asked, “Are you sure you should be trying to move right now?”

Part of you was thankful he hadn’t taken your confession seriously, but another stronger part of you was annoyed that you had said anything to begin with. Here was Sebastian, acting chivalrous and doting on you in the wake of you flying face first into a crate, and all you cared to think about was having his hands on you. On your bare skin, between your legs, around your neck…

Something was definitely wrong with you.

“I’m alright– stop worrying. I promise I won’t overdo it. At this point I just want to eat and go to sleep.” Thankfully he made no move to stop you when you stood yourself up on shaky legs, instead placing that damnable hand on the small of your back to help you keep your balance. You closed your eyes momentarily to will away the vile, uncouth thoughts that seemed to run rampant in your concussed skull, but if the way his fingers tensed against you was any indication, Sebastian clearly thought your brief pause was due to your injury.

“Fine,” he bit out, sounding all too displeased with your stubbornness. “Food, then straight to your dorm. But if I think for even a second you can’t manage, I’m carrying you to bed myself.”

It hurt to do it, but your eye roll was heavily warranted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dad.”

As the two of you walked from the Hospital Wing to the Great Hall, you realized just how serious Sebastian was about his promise to Nurse Blainey. His hands were constantly hovering at your side, ready to catch you at a moment's notice in the event you required the help, which you fortunately weren’t in need of. You didn’t think you could take any more coddling– or any more… hands-on-torment, so to speak.

Ominis joined the two of you for lunch shortly after you’d arrived, and you were unsurprised to discover that he was very much aware of your blunder in Crossed Wands earlier. He made sure you were in good spirits and feeling alright before he began nagging you in typical Ominis fashion.

“Honestly, a Depulso charm?” He chastised you further, resting his chin on his palm as his other hand came to tap absentmindedly against the surface of the table. “I would have expected something like Bombarda to finally end your win-streak, not a paltry Force spell.”

“That’s what happens when you get complacent,” Sebastian added helpfully, skewering yet another sausage from the platter in front of you. He had to have inhaled four of the blasted things already. Those deep brown eyes of his darkened as they shifted to the injury on your temple, and if he deposited his food on his plate a little more aggressively than normal, you certainly didn’t say anything about it. “She’s just lucky things didn’t end up worse.”

Ominis hummed in agreement and looked in your direction. “Yes, do make sure you’re not breaking your fall with your face anymore. I would like to think the three of us will graduate in one piece together, but between the two of you and your extracurriculars, my hopes are lessening by the day.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” came your monotonous reply. “Thanks for the words of encouragement, guys. You really know how to make a girl feel better about getting launched into a bunch of boxes.”

“Well it was quite the spectacle. I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the school for at least a few days, so get used to it.”

You didn’t even need to turn around to know Imelda stood directly behind you, presumably with her hands on her hips and a wicked smile stretching from ear to ear. She was exactly who you didn’t want to deal with right about now– especially considering she was the only living soul privy to your innermost thoughts regarding Sebastian– but she had no qualms about sidling up beside you and making herself comfortable at the table. Her face swam into your peripheral vision as she inquisitively scanned the side of your head now decked out in thick gauze and tape. “So, what’s the verdict? Brain hemorrhage? Cracked skull? Memory loss?”

“Concussion,” Sebastian answered around a mouthful of food. He fixed you with a stern look as though to remind you, “She’s been instructed to take it easy for a few days which means no broom trials, Reyes. Don’t even think about dragging her off the castle grounds.”

The Quidditch captain’s hands shot up in mock surrender, her expression the picture of innocence as she shifted back a little in her seat. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I take it that means you’ll be out of class for the foreseeable future?”

You answered swiftly this time around, lest your boyfriend deign to speak on your behalf once again. You’d hurt your head, not your mouth. “For today at least, yeah. I doubt I’d be much good in Transfiguration with a splitting headache.”

If you were only allowed one word to describe the look that overtook Imelda’s face, that word would be trouble. Her tawny eyes crinkled at their corners as a mischievous glint twinkled within them, and you could practically see her gearing up to say something you knew would piss you off. She folded her hands neatly over one another atop the table and leaned sideways on her elbow to shoot you a conniving look, and you couldn’t help but stiffen as a wave of apprehension crept up your spine.

“Well let me know if you need a hand getting notes for the day. Though I’m sure Sallow would be more than happy to assist. Isn’t that right, Sebastian?”

The emphasis she placed on the word didn’t escape you, and judging by the confused expressions on both Ominis’ and Sebastian’s faces, they didn’t miss it either. It took unwavering focus to maintain your composure and not react, and you prayed to whatever higher power existed that your cheeks weren’t as rouge as they felt. You sighed softly and glanced at the brunet through your lashes, all too aware of the puzzled look he now bore. “How about it?” You opted to simply play along for the time being in a bid to hide the true meaning behind Imelda’s telling comment. “Can you bring me the notes later?”

Sebastian nodded slowly, his gaze shifting between you and Imelda for a long moment before he set his fork down and ran his long, dexterous fingers through his hair. Your eyes tracked the movement against your will, which only seemed to intensify the curious glimmer in his dark eyes, and when he flashed you that sinful Sallow smirk you were all too familiar with, you swallowed nervously.

Surely Imelda hadn’t just helped him put two and two together, right?

“Am I missing something here?” Ominis chimed in from across the table, a scowl tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No, no,” Imelda said, the words dripping with false dismissal. The urge to throttle her was intense. “I was just implying that our dear friend here is bound to be a handful for the next few days, so she’ll need help. Let me know if I can do anything, although I’m sure you’d much rather have Sebastian be the one to–”

She was cut off by the booming slap of your hands against the tabletop as you clambered to your feet, desperate to escape her pointed comments and Sebastian’s prying stare. “Will do!” you exclaimed with too much bite. You lowered your voice and did your best to keep your tone even, “I’m sure I’ll manage, but I can’t be bothered to figure it all out right now. I’ll just– I’ll see you guys later.”

You didn’t dare look back as you swung your legs over the bench and took off towards the massive double doors. At this point, you were wishing that your collision with the crates had put you in a coma. Maybe then you could have avoided Imelda’s inevitable pestering, but even then you were positive your nuisance of a friend would have found a way to taunt you in your dreams. This was something you were going to have to acknowledge with Sebastian sooner or later, but until that day came you would do everything in your power to avoid any more awkward run-ins with Imelda. At least when Sebastian was with you, you reasoned. For now, you needed to get away from the general public and sleep on your deranged thoughts before anything else embarrassing could happen.

Apparently the universe had other plans for you, however. You recognized Sebastian’s heavy footsteps running up behind you without even checking to be certain, and even though you wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep the remainder of the day away, when his large hand came to coil around your bicep to halt you in your tracks, you let him.

“Hey, are you alright?” His eyes softened as they took in your miserable appearance, but all you could pay attention to was the feeling of his thumb caressing the back of your arm as he held you in place. “I’m sorry if I upset you– I didn’t realize Imelda was trying to poke bruises, otherwise I would have told her to leave as soon as she came over.”

Shaking your head absently, you stared over Sebastian’s shoulder and directed your next words towards the wall, because that was infinitely easier than eye contact at the present moment. “I’m not upset, you don’t have to apologize. She’s just… a lot to handle right now.”

“I’ll say,” he concurred easily, moving his head so it was in your line of sight– only to furrow his brow when you ducked your chin to avoid looking at him. His jaw clenched and his hand around your arm tightened, if only briefly, and then he was tugging you along after him. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your dorm.”

***

He knew.

He had to know.

It was the only plausible explanation you could come up with to give reason to Sebastian’s over-exaggerated use of his hands for the last three days. At first you hadn’t thought much of it; you still had a staring problem and Sebastian still had really nice hands, but the difference in the last seventy-two hours was apparent. It was as though your boyfriend was modeling his hands for you, constantly finding ways to dangle the appendages right under your nose and simultaneously letting his touch linger against your skin for far longer than normal. It was driving you insane, and you were positive he was doing it intentionally.

Realistically it had started the day after your botched Crossed Wands duel. You, Ominis, and Sebastian had been sitting in the Library to study and work on assignments, your motley trio focused intently on your individual work for the bulk of the afternoon. Ominis was using his dictation quill to take notes, his foggy blue eyes narrowed in concentration while he muttered softly under his breath. Sebastian skimmed his own Herbology textbook with hooded eyes, the book propped against the knee he had crossed over his other leg, and his laid back posture coupled with the way his fingers idly played with the hair around his temples was enough to leave you entranced. Once he had taken notice of your staring, however, he’d smirked to himself and made a show of licking his finger to turn the page over, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time.

You didn’t need a mirror to know you’d flushed beet red at the suggestive act.

The day after that, the two of you had been in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Sebastian had been asked to demonstrate the proper wand movement for Confringo by Professor Hecat, and shortly thereafter she had asked another student, Hector Jenkins, to take point across from your boyfriend for a friendly duel. Naturally you were prohibited from participating without Nurse Blainey’s go-ahead, so you’d stood at the back of the crowd and looked on ahead with rapt interest, eager to watch Sebastian make short work of his opponent, because of course he would. Chocolate brown eyes had met yours from across the room, and the movement that followed was subtle but obvious– at least, to you it was.

As Professor Hecat droned on and reminded her students of the rules that went hand-in-hand with dueling in class, Sebastian fondled his wand. Quite literally. His nimble fingers had run along the wood, stroking the handle with such a light touch that his pinky had remained elevated the entire time. His thumb and index finger came to pinch at the tip softly before skimming down towards the checkered handle, and he made a dramatic show of wrapping each one of his fingers around the base before deftly angling the thin wood at you.

Your breath had caught in your throat at the brazen motion, and Sebastian shamelessly winked at you before settling into the usual, confident persona he embodied while fighting.

To say you’d become a ball of nerves afterwards would be a monumental understatement. You wound up leaning back against the wall with your ankles crossed to ease the rampant ache that had settled between your legs, doing your best to not look like you were going into an animalistic heat, which was easier said than done.

Later on during dinner in the Great Hall, you found yourself seated next to Sebastian and across from Ominis, as per usual. The evening had started out much the same as always; with the three of you discussing the events of the day and planning for the upcoming weekend. The only difference was your boyfriend had seemingly taken it upon himself to distract you from the conversation entirely, covertly placing his hand on your thigh beneath the table to run the damn thing up and down your leg. Every time he reached your knee, he would steadily drag his palm higher up, teasing you with an occasional squeeze the closer he got to your center. Since you didn’t want to clue Ominis in on his best friend’s antics you were forced to keep your lips firmly sealed– left with no choice but to silently endure your boyfriend’s unique form of torture.

As Ominis idly discussed wanting to escape to The Three Broomsticks on Saturday, Sebastian’s grip on your leg tightened while he sat forward to spoon a serving of the night’s dessert onto his plate; a colorful fruit tart with a healthy dollop of whipped cream slapped on top. You swallowed thickly as he delicately skewered a strawberry with his fork and brought it to his lips, pausing to reply to Ominis before popping it in his mouth.

“I’m game, better to go now before Quidditch practice starts again. Merlin only knows how many trials Imelda intends on cramming into my weekends before long.”

Ominis snorted and set his cutlery down on his plate, “You say that as though she’s doing it to spite you and you alone. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s six other people to account for on the team, and not all of them were blessed with the free time to practice over summer like you.”

Sebastian side-eyed you briefly, and the corner of his mouth quirked up into a condescending grin. “That has a whole lot of nothing to do with me and everything to do with them being lazy. But my point still stands– that woman lives to invade my free time, so butterbeers this weekend sounds like a solid plan. What do you say, darling?”

The brunet chose that exact moment to sensually take the strawberry between his teeth and pull it free from the fork prongs, smiling wickedly at you all the while. A tiny bit of the whipped cream had stayed behind on his bottom lip, but before you could point it out to him or wipe it away yourself, Sebastian did exactly that, drawing his finger into his mouth to suck deviously at the remnants. Your eyes were wider than saucers as you watched his tongue lave over the pad of his thumb and forefinger, and the telling squeeze he bestowed upon your thigh immediately afterwards all but confirmed your fears.

He absolutely fucking knew.

***

“I think there’s something on your mind,” Sebastian said from beside you. “Something that’s been on your mind for a while now. Care to share?”

The two of you were on your way to the Room of Requirement, having just left the Hospital Wing after Nurse Blainey had summoned you there to evaluate your recovery progress following your mentally arduous week. She’d been all too pleased when Sebastian told her you had adhered to her guidelines to the letter– minimizing your physical activity and resting at every opportune moment, much to your boyfriend’s credit. After a few diagnostic scans, mobility trials, and a never ending list of questions designed to test your memory, she had deemed you fit to return to your usual activities– though not before making you swear to stay out of her sight for the rest of the year.

Affectionately, of course.

Sebastian’s comment reeled you back to the present moment, however, and you shot him a stern look out of the corner of your eye as you ascended the spiral staircase within the Astronomy Tower. “Unless you’re referring to how stunned I’ve been thanks to your obscene behavior this week, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He skipped ahead of you until he reached the top landing, spinning on his heel to face you as you breezed past him without so much as a second glance. “Oh, but I think you do. Surely you know why I’ve been behaving so ‘obscenely’. You’re the one who gave me the idea after all.”

Keeping your expression schooled was difficult, but you managed. As the wall concealing the door to the Room of Requirement began to shift and change, you were all too aware of Sebastian sidling up next to you so he could run the tips of his fingers up your arm and over your shoulder, sending shiver-inducing chills down your spine. The gesture was intimate and suggestive, and you sighed softly as you stepped out of his reach to make for the fully formed entryway in front of you– not particularly keen on putting on a show for any students that potentially milled about the tower.

You made it three steps inside the room before Sebastian grabbed you by your shoulder and spun you sideways, swiftly and effortlessly guiding you backwards until your back collided with the wall, and the startled gasp that ripped from your chest seemed to ignite a spark of interest in your boyfriend’s eyes. The hand he had on you traveled up along the smooth skin of your neck until he had a loose grip on your chin, and the sinful way his thumb trailed over your bottom lip spoke volumes about his intentions.

“Do I need to coax the truth out of you, or can you be a good girl and say what it is you want?” His other hand slipped beneath the fabric of your blouse, his touch blazing and leaving you hot with want the higher up your torso it traveled. The tantalizing feeling of his blunt nails scraping along the plane of your stomach had your muscles clenching and your breath hitching, and Sebastian dipped his head lower so he was directly in your line of sight. You knew he saw your rampant need for him reflected in your eyes when his pupils dilated, and he moved his thumb away from your lip to caress your cheekbone as you stared wide-eyed up at him. He cocked his head to the side as he goaded you further, “Come on, darling. You’ve never had a problem with saying what’s on your mind before, why switch up on me now?”

“Because it–” you started to say, cutting off mid-explanation when Sebastian curled his long fingers around your waist to press against your ribs in a way that nullified all coherent thought. His domineering presence over you left you nearly breathless.

He smirked, all too aware of the effect he currently had on you. “It what?”

Merlin, he was doing you in with barely any effort. Reducing you to nothing at the hands of his… well, hands. You were pathetic. He waited for your response though, his fingers dancing up your side promisingly while you worked to formulate a sentence. “I-It’s ridiculous,” you stammered out. “It’s embarrassing…”

The hand he’d tenderly ghosted across your cheek slipped behind your head, and his fingers tangled in your hair at the back of your skull to tug gently. The motion forced you to crane your chin up to follow Sebastian’s unwavering gaze, and his lips were close enough to yours that you felt his airy chuckle fan across your nose. “I already know what it is and I can tell you this much; you and I have very different definitions of what qualifies as ‘embarrassing’, darling.” His head dipped into the crook of your neck so he could better bestow wet, open mouthed kisses against your thundering pulse, and your stomach flipped at the sordid sounds he made as he went. “Come on, say it,” he implored you, his voice like velvet. “It’s only us here– tell me what you want.”

“I…” you began, shuddering immediately after when Sebastian nipped at the spit-slick skin of your throat. Finding the words was only going to get increasingly difficult from here on out, you wagered. “I want your hands on me. I haven’t been able to get the thought out of my mind since school started.”

As though to punctuate his retort, Sebastian’s hold on your hair and your waist intensified, and a barely there squeak weaseled its way past your lips as he pulled away from your throat to fix you with a heated look. “My hands are already on you, sweetheart. Tell me why, use your big girl voice.”

Bastard. Your eyes sharpened in response to his quip, and your palms came to rest flat against the larger man’s chest before you dug your nails into the fabric of his shirt. “Because you really do have very nice hands. Because the mere idea of having them on me does things to me that I can’t begin to describe. And because I’m asking you nicely,” you purred the last bit to the best of your ability, relishing in the insatiable, hungry look that crossed Sebastian’s face at your tone. “Touch me, Sebastian. I want you– all of you. Please?”

As soon as Sebastian’s lips captured yours, your inhibitions ceased to exist. All you could taste, smell, feel, and hear was him, and judging by the demanding way he pulled you flush against him by your waist, that was exactly what he was going for. You keened needily as his nails dug into your sensitive skin and the fingers buried in your hair wound tight around the strands, and your boyfriend eagerly bit at your lips before backing away just enough to stare at you through his hooded, lust-dark eyes.

“Keep talking to me like that and I’ll do anything you want,” he groaned, utterly captivated by the sight of you so wound up. You caved to his ministrations completely then, your stomach flipping over on itself when his chest pressed against yours and sealed you more firmly to the wall. His groin followed soon after– the long, hard length of him tangible through his trousers as he leaned into your spread legs further– and your own hands finally came to grasp at his shoulders when he rolled his hips against yours fervently.

“Touch me,” you implored him, the request practically a whisper as it fell from your lips. “Your hands– please, Sebastian.”

A pleased sound snaked its way through Sebastian’s clenched teeth as he obliged you instantly, releasing your waist and hair to run his hands down your torso before delving beneath your shirt. The rough, chill-inducing feeling of his calloused palms trailing against the bare skin of your stomach had you moaning in earnest, and your head tipped back against the wall with a thunk as he cupped your breasts in those heavenly hands you’d grown to adore so much. Sebastian took full advantage of your submissive position and buried his head in the exposed crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he murmured, “You sound incredible when you beg, darling. So fucking perfect– gods.”

No words came to you to formulate a reply, especially when your boyfriend’s tongue darted out of his mouth to lave down the slender column of your throat, the biting sting of his teeth on your shoulder following soon after. Your next breath caught in your chest when Sebastian ground his stiffening cock against you once more, and his airy chuckle against you was seductive and ripe with promise. Those nimble fingers of his clawed gently over the rounded tops of your breasts before pinching your hardened nipples, and that was what finally pulled coherent English from your lips.

“Fuck,” you groaned, unaware of just how much the brunet adored the needy timbre to your voice.

Sebastian’s hands left your body for the briefest of moments to push himself off the wall, then took you by the hand to guide you towards the small bedroom tucked away in the back of the Room of Requirement. Between the two of you, your combined excitement was palpable– thick enough to cut with a knife– and as soon as you made it through the threshold of the door, he was back on you in a heartbeat. It was all a flurry of lips, teeth, and tongue as he steered you backwards towards the spacious bed, those magnificent hands of his holding your hips steady with firm reassurance.

Once the backs of your calves connected with the mattress, Sebastian pulled away from your mouth with a wicked smirk, giving you a playful shove that sent you sprawling back on the bed with a startled yelp. It hardly mattered, though. Not when the man before you began undoing the buttons on his own shirt, exposing the tanned, freckled expanse of his toned chest. Not when he shrugged the attire off his sculpted shoulders and lowered himself to his knees so he could peer at you over your bent knees. Nothing else mattered aside from him.

“You know,” he started to say as his hands reappeared on your hips, tugging at the waistline of your trousers so they started to slide over your hip bones. “You’ve inadvertently given me lots of new ideas.”

A shiver coursed its way down your spine at the suggestive tone he spoke the words with, amplified tenfold by the unrepentant fantasies that flickered through your mind. “Oh really?”

“Really,” he agreed simply. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he gestured wordlessly for you to lift your hips so he could slide your pants down your outstretched legs. You obeyed, if only to get a move on with things so you could see the new ‘ideas’ Sebastian had apparently come up with. Dark, eager eyes met yours as he dropped your clothing to the floor, and then Sebastian asked, “Do you trust me?”

Without missing a beat, you murmured, “Always.”

Not another word was uttered, and you watched through hooded eyes as Sebastian prowled up the edge of the mattress to crawl over your prone form. Amusement seemingly glimmered in his lust-laden gaze as he set to expertly unbuttoning your shirt with his adroit digits, revealing inch after inch of your flushed torso, and goosebumps broke out over your stomach in the wake of Sebastian’s knuckles brushing against your heated flesh.

He didn’t bother removing your blouse fully, opting to instead flick the sides of the undone top outward to let them hang disheveled against your sides. The shallow, anticipatory breaths you let loose was the only sound you made as the freckled man above you gathered your wrists in one of his larger hands to pin them above your head, and the entire time he worked to restrain your arms, his eye contact with you remained unwavering. Warriness and excitement alike pooled in the lower pit of your gut, mixing with the telltale ache between your legs that fueled the heat that slithered through your veins.

Sebastian’s free hand came to touch you then, starting at the swell of your breasts before he gently thumbed over the peak of one of your nipples. The sensation had you sucking in a breath loud enough to make your boyfriend pause– only for him to repeat the motion a second time. “You’re rather pent up, aren’t you?”

Despite yourself, you narrowed your eyes in response to his taunting and rolled your head to the side in an attempt to hide the blush you knew spread across your cheeks. “Shut up…”

The hand on your breast flew to your face, gripping your chin and turning your head back so you were forced to meet his penetrating stare. “Come on, be honest,” he goaded you further. “You missed me. Say it.”

“Of course I missed you,” you relented quickly. “I didn’t see you for two months.”

That damnable smirk of his made its grand reappearance, and you hated how much you loved the sight of it. “You managed well enough last summer. Or were you lying through your teeth about handling the distance ‘easily’ on your travels?”

Your fingers twitched in his unrelenting hold, the urge to crane your neck away again taking over, but you were forced to keep your eyes trained on his. “I wasn’t lying then, but I still missed you.”

The way his head tilted to the side curiously reminded you of an animal attempting to get a better look at their prey. “So why the sudden change?”

Chewing your lip thoughtfully for a moment, you decided to voice your inner thoughts regardless of how bashful the idea made you feel. “Because you changed. You’re… bigger.”

Your drab attempt at an explanation didn’t escape Sebastian, but that amusement still glinted in his eyes as he released your chin and trailed his hand down your torso towards your aching center. “Bigger, huh? Care to elaborate?”

Skillful fingers slipped under the cotton of your undergarments, already damp with arousal, and you mewled softly when one of his digits slid through your wet folds before pressing down on your clit with delectable pressure. It nearly derailed your train of thought entirely, but Sebastian helpfully pulled away and snickered when your disappointed sigh slipped through your clenched teeth. “Dammit–”

“You talk,” he fucking purred down at you, looking far too smug for your liking, “and I work. Sound like a fair trade?”

His offer was emphasized by one of his fingers probing at your slick entrance, further enticing you to oblige his request. When you angled your hips to meet the feeling, he pulled back swiftly, quirking a brow at you with a knowing look.

Bastard, you thought.

Fine.

“Y-You’re bigger,” you started to say. “More muscular than before, and I think you grew a couple inches.”

Sebastian’s hand resumed its teasing exploration of your center once more, gingerly inserting his middle finger inside of you as his thumb took to rubbing titillating circles against your clit. The flutter of your eyelids brought a coy smile to the brunet’s face, and his hold on your wrists tightened a fraction as he increased the intensity of his movements. He mockingly said, “You like having a big, strong boyfriend or something? The scandal.”

You barely registered the gibe– not with his thumb slowly working over your clit in time with his finger. It damn near voided all of your brain’s function. All you cared to focus on was the bliss that came with finally having his hands on you. “Yes,” you groaned with blatant need. “I love it– I love it so much– you’re perfect, Sebastian.”

Spurred on by your praise, Sebastian leaned down to mouth wetly at your throat, biting and sucking at whatever smooth skin he found as he pumped his finger in and out of your wet heat steadily. Your head rolled to the side to allow him easier access as he presumably worked a bruise into your flesh, and you relished in the knowledge that he was rebranding you as his after the summer months spent apart. A guttural moan spilled from your mouth as he laved his tongue over the mark and covertly slipped a second finger inside your cunt, crooking the digits up to reach a depth you could never hope to when you were pleasuring yourself.

He took it slow, half for your sake and half for his own, but as Sebastian scissored his fingers and upped his tempo, he could see how you fell apart for him. You struggled to breathe, your every exhale colored with a panted, needy little sound while your thighs twitched and tensed on either side of his arm. When he shifted his fingers up just slightly, your entire body shuddered as your back arched off the bed and you choked on a breathy whine. You were so sensitive, so incredibly vocal, and it was driving him crazy.

Sebastian’s size allowed him to stretch over the majority of your upper body easily, his hold on your arms still firm as he dipped his head lower to lick his way down to your breasts. Ever so gently, he took one of your nipples between his teeth and clamped down with a cautious amount of pressure, increasing the pace of his fingers when he heard your breath hitch in your throat. You could feel his lips stretch into a smile against your chest as your heart rate sped up and your hips involuntarily bucked up into his hand in search of more friction– more of him.

“Merlin–” you writhed atop the sheets as that familiar ache took root in your gut, your finish approaching dangerously fast as Sebastian pressed the palm of his hand against your clit and somehow managed to pump his digits deeper inside of you. “Fuck, fuck!”

He pulled away from your torso to watch you with rapt interest, a flicker of something primal flashing in his brown eyes as he observed your features pinching together with obvious focus as you chased the euphoria he bestowed upon you. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it… I never thought just my hands could do it for you like this, sweetheart. Consider me pleasantly surprised.”

His words meant nothing to you– not right now. Your climax was so close, so painfully close that all you cared to focus on was the steady rhythm of Sebastian’s fingers and his strength holding your wrists down to the bed. Brainlessly, you rolled your head to the side as Sebastian worked you towards the edge, only to blink blearily up at him when he released your wrists to grab the underside of your jaw and force your eyes back on him.

“Look at me while you come on my fingers. I want to see every second of it.”

Who were you to say no?

Your release was akin to a tidal wave– crashing over you violently and stealing your breath as you tried your hardest to keep your eyes open and glued to Sebastian. Mouth falling open around an airy moan, your boyfriend continued to finger-fuck you through your orgasm as he captured your lips in a desperate, lethal kiss. “That’s it,” he groaned into your parted lips. “Good girl.”

The brunet had the good grace to slide his fingers out slowly while he pulled away, laughing softly at the slight jolt your body gave when his palm grazed over your bundle of nerves once more. Dazed and twitching beneath him, you didn’t notice he’d brought his hand to his mouth until it was inches from your face, and the stars clouding your vision cleared just in time to watch him take the two fingers that had previously been inside of you between his lips.

“I– what are you doing?” Your incredulous tone didn’t deter Sebastian in the slightest, and he smirked around his fingers before pulling them out of his mouth with an audible wet sound.

“Tasting you,” he said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Then with a wink he added, “You’re very sweet.” Nearly all the blood in your body rushed to your cheeks in that instant, warming your face as your mouth fell open in silent shock. It was balmy– completely and utterly bewildering. Yet you couldn’t help but find the brazen move equally… arousing.

You’d officially lost your mind.

In a flash, he lowered his hand closer to your own open mouth, shoving the fingers past your lips and grinning when you squealed with indignant surprise. There was nowhere for you to go– nowhere for you to turn your head to escape the taste of yourself on his digits– and so you were left with no choice but to allow Sebastian to run his fingers along your tongue. The added knowledge that you found his hands so alluring only made the whole spectacle more intimate, and before you could stop yourself, you found yourself sucking shamelessly at his skin, working your tongue over his knuckles as you stared up at him with unrestrained desire.

“Gods,” he muttered, swallowing thickly before pulling his fingers free from your mouth. His voice was shaky, and you dimly registered that your eager submission had gotten to him.

You licked the remnants of yourself from your lips as Sebastian shuffled back to the edge of the bed, standing straight to hastily undo his trousers and shove the material down his long, toned legs. Numbly, you followed suit, sitting up shakily to shrug off your now wrinkled blouse and toss it aside to join the growing pile of clothing at your boyfriend’s feet.

Nude as the day he was born, Sebastian confidently stared down at you and took in the full picture of you before him with an animalistic hunger shining in his eyes. His chestnut hair was unruly and curled wildly in every direction, the breaths he hurriedly sucked down causing his shapely chest to rise and fall in a way that dragged your attention to his strong, capable body. You drank in the sight of his tan, freckled skin, your wide eyes roving lower and lower until they landed on his hard cock arching proudly against his taut stomach.

Maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn that was bigger too.

When your eyes jumped back to Sebastian’s, you were positive he knew exactly what you’d been thinking, if his wolfish grin was anything to go by. “See something you like?”

“Please fuck me,” you groaned, too turned on by the sight of him alone to be embarassed about how desperate you sounded.

Sebastian effortlessly crawled back onto the bed and settled over you, pulling you into another intoxicating kiss as he slipped between your spread thighs and rolled his hips, grinding his achingly hard cock against your slit with a dizzying sort of precision. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, your eyes squeezing closed before you tilted your head back and arched up against him. “F-Fuck, you’re so hard,” you gasped, loosely hooking your legs around Sebastian’s hips.

Groaning his agreement, Sebastian nipped at the side of your jaw and murmured, “You have no idea… want you bad.” He nuzzled your ear for a moment, humming at the way you shivered under him, then mouthed his way down your throat with hot, wet kisses that pulled a slew of tiny noises out of you as he rocked his hips again.

Before you could wrap your arms around his shoulders like you’d planned, Sebastian was sitting back on his heels to manhandle you exactly where he wanted you. Those big hands of his grabbed you by your waist, hauling you down the bed like you weighed nothing so your rear was balanced over the tops of his knees and he was perfectly aligned with your slick entrance. The way he easily moved you around spoke volumes of the physical labor he’d done over the summer, slaving away the muggle way to restore his Uncle’s former home for the two of you to use after graduation. Every stone moved, every log chopped, and every wheelbarrow trundled was cataloged within the corded muscles that lined his body.

If you weren’t already head over heels for the man, you were certain you would be deemed grossly smitten.

Sebastian’s hands slid from your waist to your thighs to better hold you in place as he bumped the tip of his cock against you, and your breath stuttered in your chest at the first steady roll of his hips, the head sliding home easily into your slick, tight, and warm heat. Your name fell from your lover’s lips in the form of a ragged moan, fingers digging into your legs as he rocked his hips slowly, feeling for any tension or resistance. Everything he’d done to soothe you, however, had paid off, and he found that once he pressed in more firmly, you took him perfectly, letting him slide deeper with every short thrust.

He really had gotten bigger.

“I could tell you thought so,” Sebastian said around a laugh. Had you said that out loud? “Your eyes just about bugged out of your head when you looked earlier.”

Embarrassed for the nth time in the last week, you looked away from him and quietly grumbled under your breath, “Whatever… don’t let it get to your head. Your ego is big enough as it is.”

“It’s not the only thing that’s big apparently,” he countered easily. As though to punctuate the statement, Sebastian pulled his hips back once more before spearing into you with brutal efficiency, and the gasp that ripped from your throat then was followed by a breathless sound that bordered on a wail.

It was so thick– Sebastian’s cock– and it filled you up and spread you open so incredibly, but it was the angle that was really rendering you incapable of thought. With your hips elevated, the blunt head brushed past your sweet spot with every dragging thrust, re-lighting that fire in your blood that threatened to set you ablaze. You wanted more, but you were almost afraid of how good it would feel, how high it would take you. Sebastian was all around you, with his hands gripping your thighs, deep inside you, stirring you up and coaxing brainless whimpers out of you, not bothering to hold back for your sake– and thank the gods for that.

A meek keening sound arose from your throat as you gasped Sebastian’s name, and the brunet responded with a rough growl, stroking your thighs tenderly before abandoning one of them to place his hand on the lower part of your stomach. He pressed down with his fingers splayed against your skin, thrusting into you deeper so you could really feel every long, delectable inch of him within you, and the added pressure made your head spin and your walls clamp down on him.

“Oh, fuck–” you moaned wantonly, arching your spine as much as you were able in a bid to feel as much as possible. Sebastian responded by moving his grip on your thigh to your waist, fucking into you harder until all you were capable of doing was whining for more with your eyes unfocused. Rational thought was gone– you were losing your mind with the way Sebastian was pounding into you now, that fire spreading through you– but you had quickly stopped being afraid of the feeling. The hotter you got, the more Sebastian’s perfect aim drove you higher until you were arching and pleading, noisy and half-coherent as overwhelmed tears filled your eyes.

When you finally caught hold of words beyond brainless, wavering cries, you threw your head back with a gasping whine to loudly beg, “Sebastian, please, please–”

“F-Fuck,” he stuttered out, moaning desperately into the empty air before he rasped, “You like it that much, darling? Want more?”

“Yes!” You clawed mindlessly at the hand he had clamped against your waist, urging him to use the damn thing in the way you had dreamt of every night since returning to school. Ever the fast learner, Sebastian obliged you mercifully and let go of your waist, leaving you to hook your legs around his hips as he brought his hands to your throat to pull you onto his cock harder and faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room and muddling your brain further.

“You look so perfect with my hands around your neck, darling.” Sebastian growled out in-between bestial grunts. “So pretty, so eager. Is it good?”

He wasn’t choking the life out of you by any means, but the pressure he applied on either side of your neck added a sort of high that left your tongue useless in your mouth. You could hardly formulate words, much less a full sentence, but you still managed to stammer out a raspy, “Y-Yes, fuck–”

You were fairly certain you were drooling all over yourself, but you couldn’t find the willpower to care. There were too many sensations to keep track of, and through the haze of it all, your climax came into sight. Your hand came to grasp at one of the ones Sebastian had secured around your throat while the other fisted in the sheets, squeezing as hard as you could as you rutted back against his hips the best you could. It wasn’t doing much as far as you were concerned, but Sebastian evidently appreciated your attempt as he groaned roughly, letting his head hang between his shoulders as he began pumping his hips faster.

“Shit– I’m close, I’m so close–”

Beyond your moans of encouragement, there wasn’t much else you could say. Sebastian took your motivating sounds in stride though, keeping one hand clamped around your neck securely as the other flew down to your clit, instantaneously rubbing urgent little circles around the nub in a bid to take you with him over the edge. Your voice was already raspy but so much louder and needier than Sebastian’s short moans of your name, and his half-baked praises and pleas intermingled with the distant banging of the headboard against the stone wall. Even through all that– through the spiking volume of your pleasure and the blinding need devouring you both– all Sebastian saw was you, and all you saw was ecstasy.

When you finally came you wailed, long and loud as your hands clung to the sheets beneath you and Sebastian’s thick wrist alike, the latter of which knew better than to stop now. Your muscles tensed dangerously tight, your toes curling hard and your nails scraping fresh tracks down Sebastian’s forearm hard enough to leave welts, and your boyfriend was already holding on by a thread by the time your cunt clamped down tight around him. It was almost too hard to move, but there was just enough give that your climax peaked impossibly further and Sebastian fell right after you, crying your name over and over with the rough, faltering tempo of his hips.

The two of you were hardly aware of anything as you both slowed down and came off of that high, but you eventually blinked the fog from your mind and came to realize Sebastian had long since abandoned his hold on your throat in favor of laying across your prone form, lightly peppering kisses against your collarbone as he sucked down breaths to catch his breath. The stinging twitch of uncoiling muscles and the swelling bites and scratches only served to bring you both back to reality in slow, leisurely time with one another, and at the end of it all it was Sebastian who found his voice first, murmuring yet another snide comment into the crook of your shoulder.

“Should I start wearing gloves now?”

Still breathless and spent from the last hour– hell, the entirety of the last week– your delirious laughter was uncontrollable as you realized and quickly accepted that the truth was now out there, and your boyfriend was more than ready to take full advantage of that. “I don’t think gloves will help, honestly.”

The remainder of the school year would end up being a testament to just how true that claim actually was, you guessed. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, would most certainly enjoy every second of it.

#sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female!reader #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy oneshot #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #kicking down the doors of 2024 with the longest oneshot ever to grace my google doc #dropping this depravity here and exiting stage left #my writing

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the-kcm-muggleborn · 13 hours ago

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.......

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

K-K-Keriiii!!! Thank you SO SO MUCH!

You made my Eddie-baby PERFECTLY! Words dont put out how grateful I am!

This literally made my YEAR....

(Also, I know it's been months, but let's ignore that pls 😭)

If I could draw I would draw Lyla and Eddie as Hufflepuff friends. Such a cute duo...

I gotchu 😤💕

I hope I got his design right! I thought about asking, but I also wanted it to be a surprise 🤭

Lyla and Eddie would 100% be an awesome Hufflepuff duo! I wonder what they’re talking about… or who 👀💚

#lyla estaris #im not crying you are #grateful af #edwart thompson #hogwarts #hogwarts love #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy mc #mc #oc #male mc #m!mc

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thecharacterchronicler · 7 months ago

Text

Bloodline (Part 1) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.

Word count: 4’515

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.

(( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.

Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.

Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.

He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.

He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”

“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.

“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”

“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.

“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I am not.”

“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.

“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.

“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.

His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.

And now you were going to be one of them.

He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.

Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”

“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..

“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”

You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”

Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.

If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.

“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.

“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.

“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”

“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.

“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…

So please, say yes.

His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.

By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.

He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.

His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.

He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.

The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.

It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.

Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.

The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.

He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.

“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.

To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.

Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.

“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”

Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.

“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.

“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.

You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.

He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.

He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…

“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”

You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.

“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.

He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.

But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.

He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.

“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”

His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.

“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.

“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.

He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.

He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.

It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.

The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.

He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.

He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.

He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”

Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.

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mrs-sharp · 9 months ago

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Everytime you realise your favourite fictional character is... fictional.

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 2 days ago

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Reckoning | Sebastian Sallow x OC #54

Quite a satisfying chapter if I do say so myself…

Summary: Sebastian's simmering resentment toward Alaric Thornton boils over during a heated confrontation, leading to a violent outburst. Evangeline intervenes just in time, cleaning up the mess and confronting Sebastian about his reckless behavior while grappling with the emotional distance she’s created between them.

Words: ~10,500

Tags: Mild Violence/Blood, Protective Sebastian, Hurt/Comfort, Reconciliation, Not-Quite-Dating, Will They Won't They, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Longing, Unspoken Feelings, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Idiots in Love

Timeline: Mid August

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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The Ministry of Magic’s Auror Division was a whirlwind of activity, a symphony of rushing footsteps, shuffling papers, and urgent conversations. Trainees and seasoned Aurors moved purposefully through the corridors, their robes billowing behind them. Sebastian stood at his assigned station, the steady rhythm of his foot tapping against the stone floor doing little to mask the simmering frustration building inside him. His hands tightened around the parchment his supervisor had handed him, the words blurring as his irritation mounted.

The mission brief should have been a moment of excitement. He’d been waiting days for this assignment, eager for a chance to prove himself in the field. It was a straightforward mission: investigate a smuggling ring suspected of trafficking cursed artifacts through Knockturn Alley. Capture any suspects, secure the evidence, and report back. Simple, efficient—exactly the kind of task he wanted. But then he saw the name listed next to his: Alaric Thornton.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling around the parchment as if sheer force could erase the name. Thornton. The very thought of him sent a sharp, bitter surge of anger coursing through him.

Sebastian hadn’t forgotten Alaric’s past—or, more specifically, Alaric’s involvement with Evangeline. The memory of their brief courtship was a wound that never fully healed, a source of simmering resentment that flared to life the moment he saw the man’s name. It wasn’t just that Alaric had been with her—it was that he’d had everything Sebastian had ever wanted and thrown it away. Worse, he’d nearly ruined Evangeline in the process.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, scanning the briefing again as though a second read would offer some reprieve. But it wasn’t just Alaric that had him on edge. The last week had been hell in more ways than one.

The brief levity between him and Evangeline during the Quidditch game had been a welcome relief. For a few moments, it had felt like old times—like she hadn't spent weeks avoiding him, like they were still Evie and Sebastian, teasing and bickering as naturally as breathing. He’d saved her when that Bludger hit, and for a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered. Not the Prophet, not the whispers, not the weight of everything left unsaid.

But, of course, the Prophet had punished them for it. The next morning, a headline screamed from every street corner: Auror Saves Sterling, But Was the Danger His Fault to Begin With? The article had twisted every detail, painting him as reckless, impulsive, and somehow complicit in the chaos. Worse, it had dragged Evangeline into the spotlight again, insinuating that she was foolish for trusting him.

He hated it. He hated that no matter what he did, the Prophet always managed to make him the villain. But more than that, he hated how it pushed Evangeline further away, retreating into the same polite distance that had plagued them for weeks. It didn’t matter that he’d saved her. It didn’t matter that she’d looked at him afterward like he was the only person in the world who could make her feel safe. The whispers, the scrutiny—it had won again.

The silence in her absence was deafening. At night, Sebastian lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his hand instinctively drifting to the empty side of the bed. He missed her warmth, the subtle weight of her presence beside him. He missed the way she’d murmur nonsense as she drifted off to sleep, her voice soft and half-lost to dreams.

He worried that in their time apart, she wasn’t sleeping at all. That the nightmares were back. And with their work on the repository enchantments stalled, he couldn’t help but think that her dreams might be haunted by that darkness again. The thought made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t explain.

And if that wasn’t enough, Ominis had casually relayed details of another party Evangeline had attended. Another room filled with men like Theodore Fawley and Elias Carrow, men who spoke of her as if she were a prize to be won. Men who knew nothing of her quirks, her strength, her vulnerability. Men who had no right to be in the same room as her, let alone vying for her attention.

The thought of it made his blood boil, but the worst part was knowing she’d endured it all with the same graceful smile she always wore when society demanded it. She didn’t let on how much it weighed on her, but Sebastian knew.

And now, as if fate had decided to test his limits further, he was assigned to work with the one man he hated more than anyone else: Alaric Thornton. Alaric, who’d had Evangeline’s heart and thrown it away. Alaric, who’d dragged her name through the mud to save his own skin, all for the sake of a handful of galleons. A man who had threatened her—who had nearly destroyed her—and yet still managed to weasel his way into Sebastian’s present.

Across the room, the man in question stood by a bulletin board, casually scanning the notes pinned beneath a softly glowing charm. Alaric looked exactly as Sebastian remembered: tall, composed, and exuding an infuriating air of effortless confidence. His robes were impeccably tailored, his dark hair neatly combed, and his posture radiated a self-assuredness that made Sebastian’s wand hand twitch. It wasn’t just the polish and poise—there was something about the way Alaric carried himself, as though the world bent just slightly to accommodate him, that set Sebastian’s teeth on edge.

Alaric turned, and their eyes met. His brows furrowed ever so slightly, a brief crack in his otherwise composed demeanor. For a fleeting moment, Sebastian saw a glimmer of apprehension in his expression, as if Alaric was weighing the implications of this unwanted reunion. But then, with a precision that spoke of practiced professionalism, he smoothed over the reaction, his features settling into a neutral, almost indifferent mask as he approached with measured, deliberate steps.

“Sebastian Sallow,” Alaric said, his tone cool but polite. "It seems we’re working together on this one.”

Sebastian gave a terse nod. “Looks that way.”

Alaric studied him for a moment longer before glancing at the parchment in Sebastian’s hand. “A smuggling ring in Knockturn Alley—cursed artifacts, mostly. It’s a delicate operation, so we’ll need to tread carefully. I’ll lead the planning since this is your first field assignment.”

Sebastian forced himself to breathe, to maintain the professionalism expected of him, but his voice came out colder than intended. “I’m aware of how these operations work.”

Alaric’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Of course. Then I trust you’ll follow my lead.” He turned on his heel without waiting for a response, his posture impeccably straight as he moved toward the equipment lockers.

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white with the effort of holding himself together. The assignment was already a disaster, and they hadn’t even left the Auror office. Every interaction with Alaric felt like a fresh provocation, and Sebastian was beginning to wonder how he’d manage to get through the day without saying—or doing—something that would land him in hot water with their supervisors.

By the time they arrived in Knockturn Alley, the tension between them was palpable, thicker than the heavy, damp shadows that clung to the crooked buildings and twisted alleyways. The air was damp and cold, carrying the faint stench of mildew and something unidentifiable but unpleasant. Their footsteps echoed unevenly against the cobblestones, the sound amplified in the narrow confines of the alley.

The strained silence between them was broken only by the occasional murmur of a passerby or the distant clink of glass from a nearby shop. Sebastian’s jaw tightened as he caught Alaric scanning their surroundings, his gaze sharp and calculating. The man was every bit the professional, and that only fueled Sebastian’s frustration.

He wanted to throttle him. Right here, right now, in the middle of the street. Sebastian wanted to grab him by the collar, shove him against the nearest wall, and demand to know how he could do it. How he could look at Evangeline—kind, fierce, brilliant Evangeline—and decide she was worth so little. How he could throw away what Sebastian had dreamed of, what he still longed for, like it was nothing.

But Sebastian couldn’t. Not with their superiors waiting for a successful mission report and his career as an Auror depending on his performance.

Alaric stopped at the corner of a derelict warehouse, gesturing for Sebastian to follow. “This should be the place,” he said quietly, his voice level and professional. “The reports indicate they’ve been using the upper floors for storage. We’ll sweep the perimeter first, make sure there aren’t any lookouts, then move in.”

Sebastian nodded stiffly, unwilling to give more than the bare minimum of acknowledgment.

Alaric glanced at him, his expression carefully neutral, but there was no mistaking the sharpness in his eyes. “Keep your head in the game,” he said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge of warning. “We can’t afford mistakes.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his teeth clenching as he forced himself not to snap back. The comment seemed innocuous enough on the surface—standard Auror advice, even—but Sebastian wasn’t stupid.

He was referring to Evangeline.

Sebastian’s grip on his wand tightened, the polished wood digging into his palm as he fought to keep his composure. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow. “Good,” he said simply, turning back to scan the alleyway ahead. “Then let’s move.”

Sebastian followed. The darkness of the alley seemed to press in around them, the flickering light from a broken lamppost casting jagged shadows on the crumbling walls.

Alaric paused at a corner, motioning for Sebastian to stop. His hand moved with precise efficiency, pointing toward a narrow side entrance partially obscured by a stack of rotting crates. “That’s likely our best entry point,” he murmured.

Sebastian gave a curt nod then stepped forward, his movements sharp and deliberate, as they approached the side entrance. Alaric waved his wand, murmuring a quiet detection spell. The faint shimmer of a protective charm glimmered for a moment before fading.

“Low-level enchantment,” Alaric said. “Amateurs.”

Sebastian’s snorted. “Guess you’ll feel right at home.”

Alaric shot him a brief glance, his expression hardening, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he flicked his wand again, carefully dismantling the charm. The door creaked open, and they slipped inside, the musty air of the warehouse thick with dust and neglect.

Inside, the darkness was punctuated by faint shafts of light filtering through broken windows. The hum of magic grew stronger as they moved deeper, its source hidden somewhere within. Crates lined the walls, their lids pried open to reveal objects wrapped in frayed burlap—glimpses of cursed jewelry, cracked potion vials, and jagged shards of enchanted mirrors.

Sebastian’s wand hand twitched as his anger flared anew, though for an entirely new reason. This wasn’t just a smuggling operation—it was a collection of destruction, the kind of artifacts that could ruin lives.

Footsteps echoed in the distance, faint but distinct. Alaric gestured silently, motioning for Sebastian to move left while he circled right. For a brief moment, Sebastian considered ignoring him, storming ahead and taking matters into his own hands. But he relented, slipping into the shadows and moving toward the sound.

The confrontation came fast and brutal. Two smugglers appeared, wands raised, their spells slicing through the air. Sebastian reacted instantly, his fury spilling into his magic. He didn’t hold back, his spells crackling with raw power as he disarmed and subdued one smuggler with ruthless efficiency.

Behind him, he heard the clash of Alaric’s duel. Glancing back, he saw Alaric moving with precision, each spell calculated and deliberate, his expression calm even under fire.

When the last smuggler fell, immobilized by a binding spell, Alaric turned toward Sebastian, his breathing steady, his expression unreadable. “That was effective,” he said, his tone neutral. “A bit… impetuous, but effective.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his wand still gripped tightly in his hand. Without seeking permission, he moved toward the crates lining the walls. “Let’s just secure the evidence and get out of here.”

Alaric followed suit, his movements calm and methodical as he began inspecting the cursed artifacts. “We should alert the containment team,” he said, gesturing toward a particularly volatile-looking shard of enchanted glass. “Some of these are too unstable for transport without reinforcement.”

Sebastian barely heard him, his attention already elsewhere. His wand moved with precise motions as he began securing the perimeter, muttering counter-charms under his breath to dispel lingering traces of dark magic.

The tension between them hung heavy in the air as they worked in strained silence, broken only by the occasional creak of shifting crates or muffled murmurs from the subdued smugglers. Alaric sent word to the containment specialists with calm efficiency, methodically cataloging the cursed artifacts with an infuriating composure that grated on Sebastian’s nerves. Meanwhile, Sebastian directed his frustration into his task, reinforcing the protective wards around the captured contraband with a precision that bordered on aggression. Each flick of his wand was sharp, his focus unrelenting.

The minutes dragged into what felt like an eternity, the oppressive atmosphere of the warehouse pressing down on them. Finally, the sound of boots echoing against the stone floor heralded the arrival of reinforcements. A squad of Ministry specialists swept into the room, their brisk movements and clipped orders cutting through the tension like a blade.

Sebastian stepped back, his chest rising and falling with the exertion of the last hour. His grip tightened around his wand, its familiar weight grounding him as he watched the specialists expertly handle the cursed artifacts. Their practiced efficiency was a welcome reprieve from the strained dynamic he’d endured with Alaric. For the first time since they had entered the musty, dimly lit space, he felt a flicker of relief.

The return to the Ministry was uneventful, the bustling halls of the Auror Division a stark contrast to the shadowy tension of Knockturn Alley. Sebastian and Alaric handed in their report to their supervising Auror, detailing the mission with a detached professionalism that belied the simmering animosity between them.

Their superior scanned the parchment, his stern expression softening slightly. “Efficient work,” he said gruffly, his eyes flicking between the two of them. “The artifacts are secured, the smugglers are in custody, and there’s no collateral damage. You’ll both receive commendations for this. Dismissed.”

Sebastian nodded stiffly, exchanging a brief, tense glance with Alaric before they turned and left the office. The moment the door closed behind them, the thin veneer of civility Sebastian had maintained cracked, shattering entirely as they stepped into the quiet corridor.

His footsteps slowed, and he stopped abruptly, his voice cutting through the quiet hallway. “We’re not done, Thornton.”

Alaric paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening. He turned slowly, his expression weary but guarded. “The mission’s over. We did our job.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his wand hand twitching at his side. “The mission might be over,” he said, his voice low and sharp, “but you and I have unfinished business.”

Alaric let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is about Evangeline—”

Before Alaric could finish his sentence, Sebastian grabbed him by the arm and shoved him toward the nearest meeting room. The door slammed shut behind them, and with a flick of Sebastian’s wand, the lock clicked into place, and the blinds snapped closed. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a lamp in the corner.

Alaric turned to face Sebastian, his jaw tightening. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Sebastian didn’t answer immediately. His wand moved in a blur, disarming Alaric with sharp precision. The wand flew into Sebastian’s outstretched hand, and he tucked it into his pocket with a deliberate motion, his eyes blazing with fury.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” Sebastian said, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped closer.

Alaric squared his shoulders, his expression hardening. “You’re out of line,” he said coldly, his tone clipped but controlled. “I suggest you think carefully before making any rash decisions. You’re still only in training, Sallow. You sure you want to end your career before it even starts?"

Sebastian let out a cold, humorless laugh, the sound sharp in the small room. “Rash? Believe me, I’ve thought about this plenty. Months, in fact. Months to stew over how you could betray her like that. How you could take everything she trusted you with and twist it into something vile because the Clearwaters waved a few Galleons in your face.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “That’s in the past,” he said firmly. “I made a mistake—a terrible one. Do you think I haven’t paid for it?”

Sebastian’s lip curled into a sneer. “Paid for it?” he spat, his tone venomous. “You think a tarnished reputation and a few snide whispers make up for what you almost did to her? Do you even realize the damage you could’ve caused?” Sebastian let out a bitter laugh, "You were lucky. Lucky that we stopped you before the damage could stick. But you want to talk about paying for your mistakes? You haven’t even scratched the surface.”

Alaric’s fists tightened at his sides, his voice trembling with anger. “I know what I did, alright?! I don’t need you to remind me! I regret it every day.”

Sebastian stepped closer, his voice rising. “Regret doesn’t cut it, Thornton. Regret doesn’t undo the fact that you tried to destroy someone who trusted you. So tell me, why pretend to care if you were planning to betray her from the start?”

“Because I did care,” Alaric shot back, his voice strained. “I didn’t start courting her with the intention of doing what I did! If you had your facts straight, you'd know the Clearwaters didn’t just bribe me—they blackmailed me.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “Blackmail?” he scoffed. “And you call yourself an Auror? Some protector of justice you are if you can’t even handle a little pressure from a bunch of vindictive aristocrats."

Alaric stiffened, his fists curling tighter. “You think it’s that simple?” he said, his voice rising. “You think I didn’t try to fight back? The Clearwaters had leverage! It wasn’t just me they were threatening!"

Sebastian’s lip curled further, his sneer practically dripping with contempt. “So you folded,” he spat. “You chose to throw her to the wolves. You chose to humiliate her, to ruin her future. You don’t belong in this department if that’s all it takes to break you.”

Alaric took another step forward, his frustration spilling over. “I already told you, I regret what I did! What else do you want from me? Blood?”

Sebastian’s rage bubbled over. “Maybe I do,” he snarled, grabbing Alaric by the front of his robes and slamming him against the wall. “Because it sure as hell seems like you haven’t suffered nearly enough.”

Alaric’s head snapped back, his jaw tightening as he glared at Sebastian. “This isn’t going to solve anything,” he growled, shoving at Sebastian’s chest. “You think roughing me up is going to change the past?”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “No, it won’t,” he admitted, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “But it’ll sure as hell make me feel better.”

The taller man scoffed, his composure cracking. “You’re pathetic, Sallow,” he spat, his voice venomous. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for? To play the white knight for Evangeline? Because you’re in love with her? Even when I was courting her, I could see it—the way you looked at her, the way you hovered like a dog waiting for scraps.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, the words landing like physical blows. He twisted Alaric's robes in his grip, his knuckles white. “Shut your damn mouth,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

But Alaric wasn’t done. If anything, his smirk widened, his taunts sharpening. “Oh. Hit a nerve, did I? What’s the matter, Sallow? Afraid I’ll say what everyone else already knows? That you’ll never be good enough for her? The Prophet spelled it out for you, didn’t it?”

Sebastian’s vision blurred with fury. Without thinking, he reached for his wand, a silencing charm snapping into place over the room like a heavy curtain. The ambient hum of the Ministry hallway outside vanished, leaving them in a tense, oppressive silence.

“You should’ve stopped while you were ahead,” Sebastian snarled, his voice a whisper but no less lethal.

Alaric’s smirk faltered for a split second before he regained his composure. “What are you going to do, Sallow? Fight me like a common thug?” His smirk twisted into something cruel. “She deserves someone steady, someone who won’t bring her down with their baggage. Someone like Carling, perhaps. Have you seen the way he looks at her?"

The last thread of Sebastian’s restraint snapped. His wand forgotten, he shoved Alaric harder against the wall, his fist slamming into the older man’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of impact reverberated through the room, followed by Alaric’s sharp intake of breath. He staggered for a split second before recovering, his smirk replaced with a sharp, predatory glare. Without hesitation, he shoved Sebastian hard, the force sending the slightly shorter man stumbling back a few steps.

Alaric sneered, rubbing his jaw where Sebastian’s punch had landed. “You’re a bloody idiot, Sallow,” he snarled, his tone dripping with contempt. “But if this is what you want…”

Alaric lunged forward and his hand caught Sebastian’s collar, yanking him forward, but Sebastian braced himself, planting his feet firmly on the ground. With a surge of strength, he grabbed Alaric’s arm and twisted, forcing the taller man off balance.

The two crashed against the nearest wall, the sound reverberating in the silenced room. Alaric grunted as his shoulder hit the stone, but he retaliated quickly, his free hand coming up to shove Sebastian’s chest. “You’re dangerous” he growled, his voice low and furious. “This is exactly why she’ll never pick you.”

Sebastian saw red. His weight worked to his advantage as he barreled into Alaric, using his momentum to drive the man backward. They collided with the corner of a table, the sharp edge digging into Alaric’s side. The taller man let out a pained grunt but didn’t falter. Instead, he brought his knee up, catching Sebastian in the ribs and forcing him to stumble back.

“You’ve got a lot of bark,” Alaric hissed, circling Sebastian with predatory precision. “But that’s all you are, isn’t it? Bark. No bite. Just a desperate fool chasing after something he can’t have.”

Sebastian’s lip curled into a snarl, his fury giving him focus. “You think I’m desperate?” he shot back, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not the one grovelling after selling out someone I supposedly cared about."

The words struck a nerve. Alaric’s composure cracked as he swung, aiming a sharp punch at Sebastian’s jaw. The hit connected, sending a jolt of pain through Sebastian’s skull, but it wasn’t enough to bring him down. He staggered, then lunged forward, tackling Alaric to the ground with a force that rattled the floor beneath them.

Alaric’s agility gave him an edge, allowing him to land sharp, calculated blows, and after some grappling, he managed to twist free, using his longer reach to shove Sebastian off him. They both scrambled to their feet, their chests heaving as they squared off once again. Blood trickled from the corner of Alaric's his mouth, and his jaw was already beginning to swell.

"You think you’re some noble protector, but you’re no different from your uncle." Alaric let out a bitter laugh, wiping the blood with the back of his hand. "Reckless, impulsive, and completely incapable of seeing the bigger picture. No wonder she doesn’t want you."

Sebastian’s vision blurred at the edges, his fists tightening. “You don’t know a damn thing about my family.”

“Don’t I?” Alaric shot back, his tone mocking. “Everyone in the department knows the story. Solomon Sallow—the hotheaded Auror who couldn’t follow orders. It’s no secret how he ended up. And now here you are, following in his footsteps."

Sebastian’s mind went blank.

The world around him narrowed to a singular, suffocating point—Alaric Thornton, standing there with blood trickling from his split lip, spitting venom with a smugness that made Sebastian’s stomach churn.

It wasn’t just the insult. It wasn’t just Alaric’s face or his voice, dripping with superiority. It was everything.

His past, looming over him like a dark cloud—every mistake, every misstep, every failure. The constant whisper of self-loathing, telling him he’d never be enough for her. The painful distance she’d put between them because of the Muldoons’ ever-growing shadow, her careful steps to protect them both only serving to carve a deeper wound in his chest. His endless regrets about Evangeline—about waiting too long, saying too little, doing too little. The thought of Alaric, standing here now, after everything he had done to her, still breathing and pretending he had any right to say her name. And the thought of all the others—Carling, Fawley, every polished, perfect bastard vying for her attention because of that stupid list, their smug smiles haunting him like specters.

It all erupted at once, like a dam breaking under the weight of years of pressure.

Sebastian lunged. He barely registered the shocked flicker in Alaric’s eyes before his fist connected with the man’s face. The impact sent a sharp jolt up his arm, but he didn’t care. The crack of bone meeting flesh was drowned out by the roaring in his ears, the visceral satisfaction of releasing the storm he’d kept bottled inside.

Alaric staggered back, hitting the edge of a table, but Sebastian didn’t stop. He followed, grabbing the front of Alaric’s robes and slamming him against the wall. His fist came down again, this time catching Alaric across the cheekbone, splitting the skin with a sharp, sickening crack. Blood erupted from flesh, dotting the floor like crimson raindrops. Alaric tried to shove him off, his hands scrambling to regain control, but Sebastian’s grip was ironclad. He swung again, this time landing a brutal blow to Alaric’s ribs, and the taller man let out a sharp gasp, his knees buckling slightly under the force.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” Sebastian growled, his voice raw with fury. He didn’t wait for a response. His fist collided with Alaric’s face again, the crack reverberating through the room. “You don’t get to talk about me, and you sure as hell don’t get to talk about what she deserves.”

Alaric crumpled against the wall, his hands weakly attempting to shield his face as Sebastian grabbed him again, hauling him upright. The older man’s breath came in ragged gasps, his sharp tongue momentarily silenced under the onslaught.

Sebastian scarcely noticed the blood staining his knuckles, warm and sticky. He didn’t see the way Alaric’s face was already swelling, or the cuts splitting open under his fists. All he could feel was the overwhelming need to end this, to make Alaric pay for every ounce of pain he’d caused Evangeline—for every failure and regret that haunted Sebastian himself.

“You don’t know fuck all about me,” Sebastian hissed, his voice cracking as he threw Alaric against the corner of the table. The sharp edge jabbed into Alaric’s side, drawing another pained grunt. “And you sure as hell don’t know what it’s like to want something—someone—so badly it hurts, and to have it ripped away because of bastards like you.”

His fist flew again, a brutal, instinctive motion that left Alaric sagging in his grip. Sebastian’s chest heaved, his breath ragged and shallow, as he raised his fist for another blow, only to pause as a faint, horrible sound reached his ears.

Drip.

The blood on his knuckles fell onto the floor, mingling with the splattered mess already pooling at Alaric’s feet. It gleamed in the dim light, stark against the stone. The sight snapped something loose in Sebastian’s chest, the fog of rage dissipating just enough for reality to creep in.

He let go, and Alaric collapsed to the floor, coughing weakly. Sebastian staggered back, his gaze fixed on his bloodied hands. His chest tightened as the full weight of what he’d done sank in.

The silence in the room was suffocating. It was just him, Alaric’s broken form, and the undeniable evidence of his loss of control.

“Fuck,” Sebastian muttered, his voice trembling.

The sound of the door unlocking should have terrified him. It should have sent him scrambling for his wand, grasping at any excuse, any plan to salvage the disaster in front of him. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He stood frozen, his bloodied hands hanging uselessly at his sides, his wand on the floor, his chest heaving as his mind replayed the events in an endless loop of anger and regret.

The door creaked open, and Sebastian braced himself for the worst. His supervisor, the Head Auror, even the Minister—it didn’t matter who walked through that door. Whoever it was, they’d see the evidence plain as day. He’d destroyed everything.

“Sebastian?” Her voice cut through the silence.

His head snapped toward the door, and his heart nearly stopped. Evangeline stood in the doorway, her hazel eyes wide as they took in the scene: Alaric crumpled on the floor, blood staining his robes and pooling beneath him; Sebastian standing over him, his knuckles raw and dripping red.

“Evie…” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t gasp or demand an explanation. Instead, her expression shifted—shock giving way to something colder, sharper, a glint of determination in her eyes that Sebastian knew all too well. Without another word, she stepped inside, her wand slipping into her hand with practiced ease. With a quick flick of her wrist, the door locked behind her followed by the sound of another silencing charm snapping into place.

Sebastian stared at her, his heart pounding as she crossed the room in brisk, purposeful strides. “Evie, I—”

“Not now,” she said sharply, cutting him off as she crouched beside Alaric. Her hands moved deftly, her wand tracing over his injuries with precision. Healing charms poured from her lips in rapid succession, her voice steady despite the tension radiating off her in waves. The swelling on Alaric’s face began to subside, and the blood slowed its relentless flow, but she didn’t stop there.

Once Alaric’s injuries had disappeared, she cast a Stupefy charm, ensuring he wouldn’t wake too soon. Then she moved to the bloodstains, her wand sweeping over the floor in careful, deliberate motions. The crimson streaks faded, leaving the stone pristine once more.

Sebastian staggered back a step, his knees threatening to give out as he watched her. “You’re—what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” she muttered, not glancing up from her work.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said hoarsely, his voice trembling with guilt. “You shouldn’t—”

“Sit,” she ordered, her tone brooking no argument as she pointed to a nearby chair.

Sebastian didn’t move, his legs locked in place as shame clawed at his chest. “Wait, let me—”

“Sit. Down.” Her voice cracked like a whip, sharp and commanding. She didn’t wait for him to respond, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the chair. He sank into it heavily, his muscles feeling like lead.

When the room was finally free of visible evidence, Sebastian watched in stunned silence as Evangeline levitated Alaric’s unconscious body with precision, her wand steady despite the exhaustion that now clearly clung to her like a shadow. She guided his body to a chair near the desk, propping him up in a position that could pass for someone who had simply overexerted themselves. The entire scene looked disturbingly normal, as though nothing violent had taken place in this room mere moments ago.

Satisfied with his positioning, she took a deep breath, steadying herself, before aiming her wand at his temple. “Obliviate.”

The spell cast a faint shimmer over Alaric’s face as his memories shifted, rewritten under Evangeline’s careful direction. When she was done, she sat back on her heels, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion. “He won’t remember this,” she said quietly, more to herself than to Sebastian. “Not like this, at least. He’ll wake up thinking he passed out from exhaustion."

With that, Evangeline turned back to Sebastian, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. Her hazel eyes were a mix of frustration, concern, and something else—something he couldn’t quite name but that made his chest tighten. “Give me his wand. You have it don't you?”

“What?” he asked dumbly.

“His wand,” she repeated, her tone softer now but no less firm. “Give it to me.”

Sebastian moved as if in a trance, his hands acting of their own accord. He reached into his robes and retrieved Alaric's wand, feeling its weight settle heavily in his palm. For a moment, he hesitated, his grip tightening. This whole situation felt surreal, but the look in Evangeline’s eyes, steady and unwavering despite her exhaustion, cut through his doubt. She needed him to do this. So, he handed it over.

Evangeline took the wand, her movements calm and deliberate, though her pallor betrayed the toll this had taken on her. She positioned the wand beneath Alaric's limp hand so it appeared as though he had simply let it slip from his grasp while working.

“There,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “When he wakes, the memory will align."

Sebastian stared at her, his thoughts racing. The speed at which she had handled everything—clearing the room, casting the Memory Charm, fabricating a plausible story—was nothing short of remarkable. But it was also unnerving. He had always known Evangeline was clever, but this level of composure in the face of... this? It left him speechless.

“Come on,” she said quietly, moving toward Sebastian and grabbing his wrist.

“Where—?” he began, but she cut him off.

“Home,” she said simply.

Before he could protest, she turned on the spot, Apparating them both with a sharp crack. The world blurred and spun, and when it righted itself, they were standing in the familiar warmth of her apartment. The soft light from the enchanted fireplace cast a golden glow over the small sitting room, and for the first time that day, Sebastian felt like he could breathe again.

Evangeline released his wrist and Sebastian stood frozen in the middle of the sitting room, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He watched as she moved across the room, her back to him, hanging her cloak with deliberate, methodical movements. Her silence was deafening. It unsettled him more than if she’d shouted at him. He felt like he was waiting for an ax to fall, for the inevitable wave of anger or recrimination to come crashing down on him.

Before he could find the words to speak, Evangeline turned and she reached for his hand. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, firm but not harsh, and she gently tugged him forward.

“Evie…” he began, his voice hoarse.

She shook her head, cutting him off without so much as a glance. “Come with me,” she said quietly.

She led him down the narrow hallway to her bathroom. The small space was warmly lit, the glow of the sconces bouncing off the porcelain sink and neatly arranged shelves. She released his hand and turned on the tap, dampening a soft washcloth under the stream of warm water. Sebastian hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to step inside or retreat.

Evangeline turned back to him, holding the cloth, and for the first time since they’d left the Ministry, she fully met his gaze. Her expression wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t entirely soft either—it was focused, laced with a quiet determination that made his chest ache.

“Come here,” she said, her voice low.

He stepped forward reluctantly, unsure of what to expect. She reached up, the damp cloth brushing against his cheek as she began to wipe away the remnants of blood and grime from his face. Her movements were slow and careful, her touch impossibly gentle.

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his mind spinning. “Wait, why are—”

“Quiet,” she murmured, not pausing in her task.

The cloth moved across his skin, warm and soothing, and he let his eyes drift shut, too overwhelmed to argue. Each stroke felt like a balm, not just for the physical evidence of his outburst but for the storm raging inside him. He didn’t deserve this—her care, her softness—but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

When she lowered the cloth to wipe his hands, the silence between them felt heavier than before. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, her hazel gaze steady and searching.

“I don’t understand you,” she murmured. “I don’t understand how someone so strong, so smart, can be so reckless.” She reached up, her hand brushing against his temple where a bruise was beginning to form. Her touch lingered for a moment before she pulled away. "What happened?"

Sebastian’s stomach twisted at her question, her voice so quiet yet heavy with meaning. His fists tightened at his sides, the memory of Alaric crumpled on the floor still vivid behind his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. The weight of his own actions pressed against his chest like a physical force. “I just… lost control. He pushed me too far, said things—”

Evangeline hummed, a low, unimpressed sound as she brought the cloth back to his knuckles, gently, wiping away the blood and grime still clinging to his skin. “That’s not an excuse,” she said softly, though her tone lacked its earlier edge. “You can’t let your temper get the better of you. Certainly not at work, not in the bloody Auror Division."

Her words stung, but her touch didn’t falter. Sebastian winced slightly as the cloth brushed over a tender spot, but he stayed still, letting her work.

“You need to be better than this, Sebastian,” she murmured, her tone softened but still laced with disappointment. “You’re not some first-year picking fights in the corridor anymore.”

Sebastian sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her quiet scolding. “I just… he said things, and I—I couldn’t let him go. Especially not after what he did to you last year.”

Evangeline’s lips parted, her brows furrowing for a moment before she shook her head, her expression softening. “You don’t need to fight my battles, Sebastian,” she said gently.

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The memory of Alaric’s smug face, his thinly veiled jabs, flashed in his mind, and Sebastian clenched his fists at the thought of it. “I know you can handle yourself,” he muttered. “But it's... it’s hard not to step in.”

Evangeline sighed, her lips quirking despite herself. “You’re infuriating,” she said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Absolutely reckless and infuriating.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “I'm—”

“Don’t apologize," she interrupted, her smile softening.

Sebastian frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”

Evangeline stepped back, folding the cloth neatly in her hands. “I mean,” she said slowly, “that while I don’t condone your idiocy, I’m not going to pretend I don’t find a certain… satisfaction in knowing Alaric finally got what was coming to him.”

Her words hung in the air, and Sebastian stared at her, his breath catching in his throat. “You’re not mad?” he asked cautiously.

“Oh, I’m furious,” she said, her smile turning wry. “You could’ve jeopardized everything—your reputation, your job, your future. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t... like seeing you defend me. Even if it was stupid.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened at her admission, the weight of his earlier shame lifting just slightly. “I’d do it again,” he said, his voice steady.

Evangeline shook her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “That’s precisely the problem,” she said, her tone teasing but affectionate. “You’d fight the entire Ministry if you thought it would make me happy.”

“Would it?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint grin.

She laughed softly, the sound warm and unexpected. “It might. But you’d still be an idiot.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, the tension in his chest easing. “I’ll take it."

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but her fingers brushed against his hand, her touch light and unassuming. Without a word, she laced her fingers with his and tugged gently, leading him out of the bathroom and down the hallway.

“You look like you’re probably sore,” she said over her shoulder, her tone casual but tinged with a familiar concern.

Sebastian followed her, his steps hesitant. “You could’ve just said I look like hell,” he quipped, though his voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Evangeline glanced back at him, her lips quirking in a faint smirk. “I was trying to be polite.”

When they reached her bedroom, she pushed the door open, revealing the cozy space bathed in the glow of a single lamp. She guided him to her bed, her grip on his hand lingering for just a moment before she stepped away. “Sit.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, sinking onto the edge of the bed with a wince as his bruised ribs protested the movement. “I’m surprised you’re not pulling out all your fancy charms to patch me up,” he teased, his tone light despite the ache in his muscles. “Thought you’d jump at the chance to show off."

Evangeline snorted, moving around the bed. “Oh, I could. But then how would you learn anything?” She shot him a wry smile before pulling a small jar of salve from her bedside the drawer. "Remember this?"

Sebastian blinked at the familiar tin in her hands, his brows furrowing slightly. “Is that—?”

Evangeline held up the small jar, the faintly worn label bearing the apothecary’s emblem catching the warm light of the lamp. “Your handiwork,” she said with a hint of amusement. “From the apothecary in Upper Hogsfield."

A faint flush crept up Sebastian’s neck as he leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued despite the ache in his ribs. “I can’t believe you kept that.”

Evangeline arched a brow, unscrewing the lid to reveal the faintly green salve inside. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s good stuff, and Merlin knows I’ve needed it more than once thanks to your brilliant ideas.” She chuckled. “You should take pride in your work, Sebastian.”

He gave a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, I am decent at brewing, but I just followed the recipe.”

Evangeline smirked, stepping closer to where he sat on the edge of her bed. “Stop downplaying yourself,” she said, her tone softer now. “You might be trouble but you're still talented. Now, shut up and hold still.”

Sebastian stiffened as Evangeline stepped closer, her movements careful yet unhesitant. She sat beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight, and reached toward the edge of his robes. Her fingers brushed against the fabric, pausing just before pulling it aside.

Their gazes met, and for a moment, the air between them felt heavier than the bruises weighing on his ribs. Evangeline hesitated briefly, her fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt as she prepared to lift it over his head. He gave a small nod, signaling it was fine, though his throat was dry, and his heart thundered in his chest. Of course, she’d seen him shirtless before, but things had been particularly tense between them lately, and they hadn’t been close like this in what felt like forever.

When she finally pulled his shirt over his head, the cool air of the room hit his skin, but it did little to calm the heat simmering beneath the surface. Her hazel eyes flicked over him and her focus was clinical as she assessed the bruises that marred his ribs and the faint scratches along his arms. Yet, for all her detached professionalism, he felt her lingering gaze like a physical touch.

The past couple of months of grueling Auror training had transformed him more than he realized. His frame had filled out—broader shoulders, a stronger chest, and muscles more defined from relentless sparring sessions and endless drills. He thought back to the last time she’d seen him shirtless—Hogwarts, the Prefects’ Bath. He’d been strong then, sure, but there’d still been the softness that came from sneaking Honeydukes chocolates into his dorm between late-night study sessions and Quidditch practices.

Now, he wondered if she’d noticed the difference. If she liked it.

The thought sent heat crawling up his neck. Evangeline had complimented him in the past, but those compliments were usually accompanied by a teasing eye roll, as if pointing out he was handsome was just an obvious truth. She’d never been direct about whether she personally found him attractive—never let on if she’d looked at him the way he always found himself looking at her.

Evangeline's fingers dipped into the jar of salve, smoothing the cool paste over the bruises with a touch so light it made his chest ache. “You’ve... been keeping busy,” she remarked lightly, her tone betraying nothing.

Sebastian let out a faint laugh, though it felt forced. “Auror training isn’t exactly a desk job.”

She smirked faintly, dabbing more salve onto a particularly nasty bruise. “Apparently not. You’ve... filled out a bit since Hogwarts.”

His stomach flipped at her words, and he struggled to keep his voice steady. “Noticed, have you?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a glint in them that made his heart stutter. “Hard not to,” she said simply. Then, just as quickly, she dropped her gaze back to her work, leaving him to wrestle with the warmth her comment stirred.

“You’re holding still for once,” she changed the subject, her voice soft but laced with amusement. “I’m impressed.”

Sebastian forced a chuckle, though his mind was far from calm. “I’ve learned not to argue with you."

She smirked, dipping her fingers into the paste and dabbing it gently along his ribs. He watched her closely, his eyes following the subtle movements of her hands as she worked. Her touch was precise, confident—yet there was a tenderness to it that made his chest tighten. For all her sharp wit there was a softness to Evangeline that she seemed to reserve just for him.

"You’re better at this than most Healers.” He said, his voice low.

Evangeline chuckled softly, though the sound was a little strained. “You’re just saying that to make sure I don’t leave you halfway patched up.”

Sebastian gave her a faint smirk, but there was a warmth behind it that softened the edge of his usual teasing. “I’m serious. You're probably better than half the professionals at St. Mungo’s. Maybe you missed your calling.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she smoothed the salve over a particularly deep bruise.

The teasing banter faded into a quieter moment, the air between them heavy with unspoken things. Her fingers worked steadily, but Sebastian couldn’t ignore the way his chest tightened with every careful movement she made, every touch that lingered just a second longer than it needed to.

Finally, he broke the silence. “When you walked in on… that mess with Alaric,” he began, his voice quieter now. “How did you even find me?”

Evangeline’s hand stilled on his shoulder, her fingers freezing mid-motion. For a moment, she didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the faint discoloration of his skin under her touch.

“For anyone else, you would’ve been tough to track down,” she said finally, her voice measured. “But when I checked your office and you weren’t there, and then the receptionist mentioned your assignment with Thornton… well, it didn’t take long for me to piece things together.”

Sebastian frowned, his chest tightening at the mention of Alaric. “Still, it could’ve been anything,” he said. “An interrogation, an official investigation, even a meeting. It’s not like you knew for sure what was happening in that room.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, the motion subtle but unmistakable. “Oh, please,” she muttered, smoothing the salve over his skin with a little more pressure than necessary, though her touch remained careful. “A locked door, a silencing charm strong enough to block out even a whisper, and the fact that you and Thornton had just worked together? It wasn’t exactly a mystery, Sebastian.”

“You still could’ve been wrong,” he argued, his voice quieter now. “What if it really was something official?”

She snorted softly, shaking her head as she moved to tend to another bruise. "I know you too well. You’ve got a tell."

“A tell?” His brow furrowed. “What tell?”

Evangeline’s smirk widened slightly. “Your magic,” she said simply, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin. “It’s… distinct.”

“How?” Sebastian pressed.

She hesitated, her touch stilling for a moment before continuing. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like… like static in the air—sharp, crackling. Especially when you're agitated.”

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard by her observation. “You can feel that?”

Evangeline shrugged, keeping her focus on the task at hand. “Not always. Just when I’m close enough. Or when you’re particularly worked up.” Her lips quirked into a faint smile. “Which, let’s be honest, is a lot of the time.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize I was so transparent.”

“You’re not,” she replied, her tone softening. “But I’ve been around you long enough to notice.” Her voice dropped slightly, almost hesitant. "So when I came to the door... I knew you were in there.”

Sebastian stared at her as a flood of thoughts clamored for attention, each demanding to be untangled.

She’d known he was in that room. Not just because of logic or deduction, but because she could feel him. His magic. He’d never known she could do that—never even considered it. But it explained so much. How she always seemed to find him back at Hogwarts, or the way she’d appear out of nowhere, knowing he was just around the corner, even when he hadn’t made a sound.

The idea that she could sense him like that, that she knew him so well—it made his chest tighten, his pulse quicken. And then there was the relief. Relief that she had been the one to walk through that door, to find him before things had spiraled even further out of control. If it had been anyone else, his career, his future—it all would’ve been over. He hadn’t been in any state to clean up his own mess, to think clearly enough to salvage what he could. But she’d been there. She’d stepped in, taken control, and pieced everything back together when he couldn’t.

And now she was here, tending to him with calm precision, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she hadn't been avoiding him for weeks, like she didn’t even have to think twice about helping him.

But of everything, one question pushed itself to the forefront, demanding an answer. “Why were you looking for me?” Sebastian asked, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. “Back at the Ministry, I mean.”

Evangeline’s hand stilled. For a long moment, she didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on the faint patterns of mottled skin beneath her touch. Sebastian could see the conflict flickering in her eyes, the way her lips pressed into a tight line as if she were weighing her words. Then, she exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping just slightly before she set the jar of salve aside.

“I… can’t stand it,” she admitted quietly. “The way things have been between us. The distance. I know I’m the one who created it, but it’s…” She trailed off, her hands retreating to her lap as she stared at them like they might hold the rest of her explanation.

Sebastian’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as her words settled between them. It was happening—the moment Ominis had predicted with maddening certainty. She’d missed him. She’d come back to him, not because he’d chased her or cornered her into admitting it, but because she’d felt it too. The pull. The ache. The impossibility of keeping their lives separate.

Of course, Ominis had been right. He always was. It had taken every ounce of restraint Sebastian had not to storm after her over the past weeks, to respect the distance she’d put between them even though it had been driving him insane. Ominis’s words echoed in his mind now, clear as day: “Give her the space to figure things out. And trust me, Sebastian, she'll come back. Evangeline can’t stay away from you any more than you can stay away from her."

Sebastian’s chest tightened as he fought to steady his voice. “I get it,” he said softly, his words thick with emotion he could barely contain. “I know why you’ve pulled away. I know you think you’re doing the right thing. But…” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers, willing her to understand. “You don’t have to shut me out, Evie. You never had to.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her shoulders hunching slightly as though she were bracing for an argument she wasn’t sure she could win. “I didn’t shut you out,” she said quietly, her voice faltering as she looked away. “Not entirely.”

Sebastian huffed a humorless laugh, leaning back slightly to look at her. “Not entirely?” he echoed. “You haven’t stayed over since the list came out. You hide when I visit your flat. And the last real conversation we had…” He trailed off, his throat tightening as the memory of their exchange in the café resurfaced.

He could still see the way she’d looked at him—tired, frustrated, hurt. The way she’d walked away, leaving him at the table with nothing but his own doubts and regrets for company.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “At the café, I mean. I was frustrated—angry about the list, about the Muldoons, about everything—but I should’ve handled it better. I made it worse.”

Evangeline’s head lifted slightly, her eyes meeting his for the first time since the conversation had started. “It wasn’t just you,” she said softly. “I… wasn’t exactly fair either. I let my frustration with the situation spill over onto you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

Her admission eased some of the weight pressing on his chest, but it didn’t erase the guilt gnawing at him. “Still,” he said, his gaze steady on hers, “I should’ve listened. Really listened, instead of trying to fix everything. You were already dealing with enough without me adding to it. I'm sorry.”

Evangeline’s lips twitched in a faint, bittersweet smile. “You’ve always been like that," she murmured, her voice tinged with warmth. “Always trying to fix things, even when you can’t.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened at her words, the warmth in her tone a bittersweet contrast to the guilt he still carried. “It’s not exactly a strength,” he admitted, his voice low. “Sometimes I think I do more harm than good.”

Evangeline shook her head slightly, her expression softening as she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his wrist. “That’s not true,” she said gently.

For a moment, they sat in the quiet, the words hanging between them like a truce. Evangeline’s touch was featherlight, but it burned into his skin like a brand, anchoring him in place.

He moved slowly, curling his fingers around hers, their hands tangling together as if they’d always been meant to fit this way. She looked up at him, startled, her hazel eyes wide and searching.

“Evie,” he began, his voice low but firm, the words bubbling up before he could second-guess them. “Please… stop trying to protect me.”

Her hazel eyes widened slightly, and she opened her mouth to speak, but he tightened his hold on her hand, shaking his head. “Just—listen. I know why you’re doing it. I get it. I do. But I can’t stand this. The way things have been between us—it’s killing me.”

Her lips parted, a protest hovering on the tip of her tongue, but the look in his eyes seemed to quiet her. She lowered her gaze, and he could feel the tension in her hand, the way her fingers stiffened under his. He didn’t let go.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice raw and unsteady, stripped of all pretense. “I miss you being sprawled on the sofa with one of Ominis’s books in the evening—the ones you swore you’d return ages ago. I miss catching you sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night to make tea, trying to shush me like I’m the one causing a racket when you’re the one clinking cups. I miss hearing you talk in your sleep, the way you mumble about things that don’t make any sense and act like it never happened in the morning. And I just—”

His voice broke, his hand curling into fists against his thigh as he looked at her, every unspoken feeling spilling out in those fractured words. “I just miss you, Evie. You think you’re protecting me, but you’re tearing me apart.”

Her free hand lifted instinctively to wipe at her cheek then, and he realized, with a pang, that tears had begun to form in her eyes. She looked away, her shoulders curling inward slightly, as if trying to shield herself from his words.

“Sebastian,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “You don’t understand. If I don’t—”

“I do understand,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “You think it’s the only way to keep me safe. But I don’t want to be safe if it means losing you.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking on his with a mix of disbelief and vulnerability.

“I don’t care what the Muldoons think of me,” Sebastian pressed, his voice steady. “Or what the gossip columns say. Let them talk. Let them sneer. None of it matters to me. You matter to me.”

The silence stretched between them and her lips trembled, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as she tried to process his words.

“I miss you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The words felt like a release, a confession she hadn’t allowed herself to say out loud until now.

Sebastian’s heart thudded painfully in his chest as he reached out, his fingers brushing against her chin. Gently, he tilted her face upward, his own expression raw and open, his eyes searching hers.

“Then come back,” he said, his voice soft but insistent, each word laced with unfiltered emotion. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go. “Stay over again. Let me come by for tea, or for no reason at all. Just… let things be how they were before. Please.”

She let out a shuddering breath, her free hand coming up to clutch his wrist. For a long moment, she said nothing, her grip on him the only response he needed.

Finally, she nodded, the motion small but resolute.

Sebastian exhaled a shaky breath, relief crashing over him as he pulled her into his arms. There was no hesitation, no guardedness in the way he held her—just a raw, unreserved need to keep her close, as though letting go might mean losing her all over again.

She melted against him, her frame trembling as her face buried into his shoulder. He felt the faint hitch of her breath, the warm dampness of her tears soaking through his shirt. His hand slid upward with deliberate care, fingers threading gently through her hair as he cradled the back of her head, his touch steady, grounding.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, as the moments blurred together—seconds, minutes, maybe lifetimes. The trembling in her frame gradually eased, her breaths slowing as the storm within her began to calm. Her grip on his shirt loosened, her fingers uncurling slightly, but she didn’t let go.

Neither did he.

“And I promise,” he began softly, a faint, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips now, “I won’t beat the shit out of any more of your ex-boyfriends.”

A breath of laughter escaped her, quiet and shaky, but real. Her lips curved into a small, wry smile as her hands moved to rest lightly against his chest. “Good,” she murmured, her voice still thick with emotion. “Because cleaning up after you is exhausting.”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and warm, and he let his thumb brush a stray tear from her cheek. “To be fair,” he said, his tone laced with mock seriousness, “Thornton deserved it.”

Her smile widened just a fraction, and she shook her head, the motion gentle against his. “That doesn’t mean you get to make a habit of it.”

“No promises,” he quipped, his grin softening as his gaze lingered on her. “But I’ll try to behave. For you.”

Her eyes softened, the tension in her features melting away into something gentler, quieter. Then, without a word, she lifted her hand, offering him just her pinky finger.

A faint, almost boyish smile tugged at his lips as he lifted his hand, mirroring her motion. He hooked his pinky around hers, the small connection sealing something infinitely larger between them.

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evaslytherpuff · 11 hours ago

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I’m speechless!!!😱😱 Also scared!!! This is insanely good!!!

Chapter 14

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️F!MC 🔺️ Leander Prewett

Tensions are building as emotions run high. Leander’s life hangs in the balance, and choices must be made.

Chapter Master List and Ao3

Tags: NSFW / Violence / Blood / Torture / Angst / Trauma / Dark Magic

Chapter 14: Trust Must Work Both Ways

Leander

The insistent throb of pain in his chest made every heartbeat feel like fire, the pain spreading outwards in a wave with each pulse. It echoed in his head, his thoughts cloudy and fractured as he tried to open his eyes. It was so quiet, and he could feel a chill in the air, the scent of dirt mingled with a freshness that made him think of deep woodlands and clear, blue skies. It didn’t make sense. The last thing he remembered was the narrow chalk tunnels, running through the dark, and a girl screaming.

Each time the world tried to flicker back to him, the pain intensified, but he couldn’t move his arms to try and ease it. The ground was cold and damp beneath his clothes, and when he tried to open his eyes to see, the blurry dimness was nothing more than smudges before him, illuminated in pale gold.

Was this how it would all end? He tried to remember what happened, but the throbbing pain made it hard to focus. As he tried to place events in order in his memories, flashes of images presented themselves, all of them bleeding into one another as he rasped in wheezy breaths. His lungs burned. A woman with cold blue eyes. Luella Rookwood. A stinging slap to his face, rough hands dragging him. Miss Montgomery weeping. Pain. Always the pain.

The kitchen in Shell Cottage drifted in and out of his thoughts. He breathed in slowly, carefully, fancied he could hear the waves crashing on the shore, catch a glimpse of silken black hair and crystal blue eyes. He could hear her, she was speaking softly, her fingers touching his cheek. He wanted to retreat into the vision, it was safe there, it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

“Lee, please, look at me,” her voice whispered, but there was an urgency to it. It didn’t match the peacefulness of the cottage. “Wake up. I need you to wake up, please.”

His lashes fluttered, and a groan escaped him as the pain smashed into his chest anew. His head rolled, but gentle hands caught it and held him steady. He tried to swallow, his lips moving, but a mere croak came out. “MC?”

He could hear her soft sniffles as though she was crying, and he blinked quickly, forcing his eyelids to open. Wincing at the glow of a fire torch, a hazy vision of MC came into view. She leaned over him, her hands holding his head.

”Oh, thank the Gods,” she gasped, gentle fingers smoothing back his hair.

Gradually, his surroundings came into focus, the peaked canvas roof of a tent, a dirt floor. When he made to lift a hand to touch MC, bound ropes stopped him and he grunted, panic adding pressure to the awful pain in his chest as he tried to move.

“Hold still,” she urged, holding up a potion bottle. His eyes felt itchy and tight as he focused on the little glass phial. Wiggenweld. “Open your mouth. I’m going to tip it in.”

Her hand held his jaw as he parted his lips, and she eased his head back. The potion hit his tongue, his whole mouth tingling at the liquid relief. He was so thirsty.

“You’re going to be alright,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at something. He wished he could move his arms. Her touch on his cheek pushed back against the agony. She smiled. “This time, I’m going to save you.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed the potion, focusing on the feel of her fingers stroking against his face, and let the drowsy feeling of sleep claim him again.

Her hands shook as she carefully eased Leander’s head back against the thick, wooden tent post, his eyes fluttering closed again. He was deathly pale under his freckles, his lips almost white, and it made for a sharp contrast against the blood. His cheek was slashed, and blood had trickled down from a wound on his head, his usually neatly combed hair sticky and mussed. His drowsiness frightened her, he didn't seem to know where he was, but when he had spoken her name, the relief had been palpable.

They didn’t have much time. Sebastian could only distract for so long. Leaving the potion to work on Leander, MC crawled around him to the blonde girl tied against the pole at his back. She appeared relatively unharmed, just a split lip, likely from a swift blow to silence her. MC shook her shoulder and she groaned, blinking slowly before fixing a piercing gaze on her. She frowned, and then her face morphed with recognition.

“You’re MC,” she said, clearing her throat. She sat up straighter, scowling at her bonds. “Did you do this?”

MC scoffed and shook her head, narrowing her gaze a little as she studied the girl. She must be the one Leander had told her about, the new Auror who took McKinnon’s place. Her hair was pale blonde, her face as pretty as a little doll. She looked every bit the delicate maiden, but there was a strength in those eyes that spoke of determination and strong will. There had to be something about her considering she had made it through the Auror training program.

“Are you injured?” MC asked, her eyes scanning down the slim frame beneath the Auror robes.

“No, no I don’t think so,” she replied. Her intense gaze studied MC warily. “You are MC, aren’t you? The prisoner that Auror Prewett meets with.”

MC aimed her wand towards the ropes, her face carefully impassive. “That’s me,” she said. “And you are his new partner. Apologies, I don’t recall your name.”

“Montgomery,” she said, eyeing MC’s wand with a touch of wariness. “What are you doing?”

“Hold still. I’m going to cut the ropes and then I need your help. Leander is badly hurt, and I need to get him out of here.”

She stiffened, her eyes flaring. “First name terms? How cosy.”

MC fixed her with a hard stare, hoping that this girl didn’t start the sarcastic games that McKinnon seemed to favour. “Do you want me to cut you free, or not? Honestly, I don’t care either way. I just want to get Leander out of here before your worst nightmare comes through that door. Trust me, you do not want to face the camp Executioner.”

Montgomery swallowed hard, her eyes darting towards the tent flaps that led outside, shifting nervously under her ropes. MC took little satisfaction in the flare of fear that flitted across Montgomery’s gaze, her patience was on a taut leash, her attention drawn to how Leander was faring. Reaching out a hand, she felt his forehead. It was cool to the touch, no fever.

“How bad is he?” Montgomery had twisted her head, trying to get a look at Leander behind her. “He was hit by a blasting hex from Luella Rookwood. His head hit a crate as he fell back.”

“Not as well as I would like,” MC muttered, fresh hatred bubbling up for Rookwood’s spawn. She grit her teeth as she imagined Leander being hit, grimacing as she cast a slicing charm and the ropes fell apart, freeing the young Auror. MC shuffled back as Montgomery pushed the severed ropes free and brushed dust from her robe, shifting up stiffly and then gasping when she spotted Leander slumped behind her. There was concern in her eyes, but she recovered swiftly, her training kicking in as she did a quick scan of the tent, her mouth set into a firm line.

“What is this place?”

“You’re in Scotland,” MC replied, crawling back to Leander to check on him. “This is an Ashwinder camp about three miles east of Bainburgh. I wouldn’t bother memorising the location, they move regularly to avoid discovery.”

“They took our wands when they captured us,” Montgomery said, shuffling closer. “Any chance your plan to get us out involves retrieving them?”

MC gave Montgomery a curious glance. Considering her dire circumstances, this Auror had a steel spine, and she was clearly ready to do whatever it took to help, including looking to an ex-prisoner for answers. There were none of the sly games that McKinnon had favoured, at least for now.

“You are going to trust me, then?” MC asked, looking Montgomery right in the eyes.

“If it’s good enough for Auror Prewett, then yes, I will trust you,” she nodded. “What do we need to do?”

A grudging respect for this Auror filtered through to MC, but she would still be keeping a close eye on her. She nodded towards a wooden bench on the far side of the tent. “Your wands should be on that table over there,” she said, pulling out another potion from her pocket. “Grab them, and then we need to get Leander awake enough so we can Apparate. I’m hoping he will be strong enough to travel that way.”

As Montgomery hurried to search for the wands, MC gently took hold of Leander’s face, stroking his uninjured cheek. “I need you to wake up again, Lee,” she said, rising tension making her constantly glance towards the tent entrance. “Someone could come and check on you at any moment.”

His eyes fluttered, blinking open a bit quicker this time, the first dose of potion doing its work. She gently clasped his jaw, using her thumb to pull down his lower lip. “Another potion, Lee,” she murmured, meeting his bleary gaze. He managed a stiff nod and opened his mouth. “That’s it. This will help. Where does it hurt?”

He swallowed down the potion and tried to move, wincing with a sharp intake of breath. “Chest…bad,” he wheezed. “Head…”

Sucking back tears at seeing him look so weak, fear dragging ice fingers down her spine, she leaned closer to him. “I need you to stay awake for me,” she urged, stroking back his hair. “I need to get you out of here. Do you think you could manage me Apparating you? Is that safe?”

He nodded. “Do it,” he rasped.

Swiftly cutting his ropes, she grabbed his shoulders as he slumped. Montgomery crouched beside her, the found wands in her hand. She helped MC steady Leander, her eyes far too curious as she looked between MC and him.

“I’m going to assume nobody else in camp knows you are in here,” she said shrewdly, her eyes darting towards the door. “You risk the whole operation if you are caught assisting us.”

MC fixed her with another cold look. “I’ve got someone being a distraction, but it gives us minutes at best. I suggest you hold on to me, now.”

Both girls froze as the tent flap was shoved open, MC immediately snatching her wand into her grip and moving to block Leander. She thought she might actually faint with relief when Sebastian stepped in, quickly pulling the flap closed behind him. He looked tense, his eyes scanning the scene quickly before he hurried forward.

“Time to go, now,” he snapped, taking her arm. He glanced down at Leander and grimaced. “Shit, he doesn’t look good.”

Montgomery was gaping, her eyes wide in shock. “Gods, you’re…you’re Sallow,” she gulped.

Sebastian turned his gaze to her, seeing her properly for the first time. His lips curved into a smirk. “Indeed I am. Pleasure to meet you, Miss,” he said smoothly. He held out a hand towards her. “I assume you’re coming with us.”

“Auror Montgomery,” she mumbled, sliding a hesitant hand into Sebastian’s grip.

MC rolled her eyes at the blush that stained Montgomery’s cheeks as she wrapped her arm firmly around Leander, and tugged at Sebastian with the other hand. “Seb,” she hissed.

As soon as Montgomery’s hand was firmly within his, he gave MC a nod, and that violent tug pulled behind her navel. It was mere seconds, but she felt the heavy drag in her arms as she clutched Leander, feeling the weight of bearing two as they were ripped through time and space.

Sebastian

The landing was neither elegant or gentle as they crashed into the soft bed of wild grass. He hadn’t taken them too far, only to the Scottish border, a small spot near an old ruin of a castle. It was fully dark, a chill wind whipping across the exposed landscape. MC was clinging on to Prewett as if her life depended on it. From the looks of him, it was his life hanging in the balance, the blue tinge around his mouth suggested chest wounds and his pallor was very poor.

“Where the blazes are we?” Montgomery leapt to her feet, wand in hand as she scanned the darkened moor around them. “I thought you were taking us to get help. St Mungo’s would have been the better option.”

“For you, perhaps,” Sebastian muttered, more concerned about his own immediate problems. He reached for MC, grasping her elbow and tugging. “Come on, we need to get back to the camp before anyone notices we are missing.”

The tight, furious look on MC’s face told him he had a fight on his hands. Her fingers were curled into Prewett’s bloodied robe, and her chin lifted in that stubborn way of hers. “I’m not leaving him until I know he is alright,” she said flatly.

“When they realise that the Aurors got out, it won’t take a genius to figure out who helped them when they discover you gone, too,” he pointed out, his own stubbornness kicking in. The mood back at camp had been restless, the Ashwinders hyped up by the scrap in the tunnels. Having prisoners to torment had their teeth gnashing eagerly, and things would sour really fast once they discovered the empty tent. He tightened his hold on MC, eyes dark and firm. “We need to go. Now. Let him go.”

The flicker in her eyes, just a flash of pain that was quickly masked, but it revealed the double meaning behind those words. As soon as she could release her hold on Prewett, Sebastian had every intention of Apparating them both back to his tent, but her hands remained fisted tight in his robes, her mouth a tight line. Letting him go was more than just the physicality of it. She had to leave him here, in the dark. Injured, and in the hands of a stranger. That crack in her shield had revealed the panic, and the pain of having to let go.

“I can’t just leave him,” MC said, her voice wavering slightly. Even her lips trembled. “He needs help.”

“What exactly is going on here? You seem to be rather over familiar with Auror Prewett. Is there something afoot here that I should be aware of?”

MC turned her attention towards the suspicious blonde Auror, her eyes hardening. Sebastian looked to her, too, but kept hold of MC’s arm. Montgomery was watching them through narrowed eyes, her wand not aimed at them, but ready in her grip.

“There is nothing you need to be aware of,” MC said, her tone laced with ice. “Is it really so shocking that I would help him?”

The wind whipped at their hair and clothing, but the rattle of Prewett’s wheezing breaths could still be heard. He coughed, blood staining his pale lips. As much as Sebastian could throttle the bastard through his fear of losing MC, to see him in this state was a sobering moment. He remembered Prewett as the stammering kid who still hadn’t grown into his feet at school, opening his big mouth without thinking, always trying to keep up with his peers but somehow managing to fall short every time.

Look at him now. His robes were of fine quality. He was a fully fledged Auror, living a good life, and he had managed to capture the soft part of MC, and that was no easy task. Her shields were high and thick, but she had let him in. He’d always figured he hated Prewett, but perhaps it was merely envy. The bloke had carved himself a path through his struggles, he had done well, and it merely highlighted the mess Sebastian had managed of his own life. His ambitions had led him into darkness, whereas Prewett had strived to be better. Did he deserve to die in a field for his efforts just so Sebastian could keep MC close?

Sebastian found himself kneeling in the damp grass, pressing a hand to Prewett’s head to check for fever, his thoughts already racing through the various healing spells he knew through long hours of research. He heard MC’s sharp intake of breath, her cool hand clutching his arm. Had she thought he would hurt Prewett? Perhaps finish him off? It made his guts twist in shame because perhaps he was more than capable of doing just that.

“It’s alright, MC. There is no fever, but his breathing suggests dangerous chest injury,” he said, aiming his wand towards Prewett’s sternum. “If his ribs are broken, they could have punctured his lungs. I can check.”

“Will he die?” MC asked desperately, as the tip of Sebastian’s wand glowed white.

A quick glance at her face revealed her fear despite the darkness of the wild moor around them, the weak light from his spell casting ghostly shadows on her taut expression. If Prewett died, it would crush her. If helping this damned Gryffindor didn’t prove how far he would go for her, then nothing else would.

He shook his head. “Not if we help him.”

“I can’t believe what I am seeing,” Montgomery gasped, her eyes wide as she watched on. “An Ashwinder helping an Auror!”

Sebastian ignored her, allowing the spell to show him the cracked and ruined mess of Prewett’s ribs which were definitely broken, the images flickering before his eyes in black and white like an ink drawing. The spell he had learned during a study session with Ominis, researching ways that might help his old friend ‘see’ things. They had been amused at the illusions of their friends in skeletal forms, casting the spell on unsuspecting students at Hogwarts. At the time he hadn’t anticipated the uses he would need it for later in life, and now, staring at the ruin of Prewett’s chest cavity, he felt his stomach churn at the pain it must be inflicting on him.

“You believe the hype that surrounds us, it seems, Montgomery. Perhaps we are not the monsters you think we are,” MC countered, eyeing Sebastian's wand movement as she gently stroked Prewett’s hair back. “How bad is it?”

Sebastian grimaced, meeting her worried expression with a shake of his head. “He needs a Healer. Broken ribs, most likely internal bleeding. I can mend the bones. I reset an Ashwinder’s broken leg once. It mended up a treat. As for the bleeding, that's a bit more tricky.”

“He needs to go to St Mungo’s,” Montgomery insisted. “All Aurors have a designated bed available due to the violent nature of our work. He would be seen immediately.”

“Then let's go,” MC said, already holding Prewett against her. His head rolled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His eyelids flickered as though he would wake, but he remained limp in her embrace. Time was running out.

“No, we can't,” Sebastian said, grabbing her arm. “I'm wanted in London. You are supposed to be under cover, and with that article printed in the Prophet about you, there will be suspicion on both sides. Damage limitation, MC. Let Auror Montgomery take Prewett in. We need to return to camp and keep up appearances. You've done your part. You got him out.”

“Listen to him…” Prewett rasped, the effort of speech making him cough. Blood gurgled in his throat, his face contorted with pain. MC clutched at him, her hand fluttering like a panicked bird near his face.

“Right, that’s it,” Montgomery said, dropping to the grass on her knees. Her wand was put away, her hands reaching for Prewett. Grim determination settled over her features and she gave MC a pointed look. “I’ve got him. I’ll take him to St Mungo’s.”

For a tense few seconds, Sebastian eyed both women, certain that MC might shove the Auror away and disappear with Prewett alone. He kept his grip tight on her sleeve just in case. If Rookwood so much as caught a sniff of her arriving at St Mungo’s with an Auror in her arms, it would be over.

Something softened on Montgomery’s face, and she placed a careful hand on MC’s. “Clearly, you think highly of him,” she said gently. “Don’t worry. I will make sure he is cared for. Go back to the camp. It’s what he would tell you to do, isn’t it?”

Slowly, reluctantly, MC nodded and withdrew her hands. Sebastian put his arm around her, trying not to notice the way she was staring at Prewett as though it would be the last time.

“I should be taking you back to London in charmed chains, but I will let it go just this once. You have surprised me, Sallow,” Montgomery said, wrapping her arm around Prewett to support his head. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness, pale light from the slither of moon peeking between swiftly moving clouds highlighting the pale blonde of her hair. “The reason I have this position is because you took out my predecessor. You are the most wanted murderer in our books, and yet, here you are saving not just me, but an old rival, too. Perhaps I should be thanking you.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” he said coldly, narrowing his eyes. At the edge of his vision, he saw MC look up at him. This was for her, just as he had promised. Anything for her, even if it meant saving Prewett’s skin. “Get him out of here.”

“Don’t let him die, please,” MC begged.

The vulnerability in those words cut Sebastian like cold blades. He could feel her trembling and he held her closer, noting the puzzled curiosity on Montgomery’s face as she nodded. In the blink of an eye, they vanished, the crack of the magic splitting through the blustery night. MC buried her face into his chest, the shield completely slipping from her as she sagged, a sob tearing from her throat.

It mattered not that Sebastian had draped another blanket over her as she lay in his bunk. Still she shivered. Huddled into the smallest shape she could manage on the camp bed, the blankets drawn up to her chin, MC fought the tiredness that tightened her eyes. The tears had subsided, and she had to believe that Montgomery was good on her word, that Leander was safe in St Mungo’s. Yet, if she allowed her eyes to close, all she could see was his deathly pale face, the blood on his lips, and the terrifying sound of each rattling breath that echoed from his crushed chest tortured her memory.

Fear was a strange companion. She was definitely no stranger to it, spending many hours crouched in the dark of Azkaban and facing terrors no human should have to. Fear for yourself was something she could grasp and own, swallow down and challenge. Fear for another person ate at you like a ravenous beast, its hungry teeth devouring everything inside of you in uncontrollable tremors that left you hollow and fractured. An unfortunate side effect of becoming attached to another person, of loving them and caring about them, was to face the devastating fear of losing them.

If she had ever doubted her attachment to Leander, she no longer did. The thought of her world without him in it left her cold. Especially since it had been her word that had sent him into those tunnels in the first place. If he died, then she had sent him to his death.

A hand touched her shoulder, Sebastian’s shadow casting over the bed as he blocked the glow from the lamp on the table. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

She could hear the worry in his voice, the plea for her to take down the wall she had slammed up around herself, but she merely shook her head and kept her face turned away. He had brought them back to the camp, immediately pouring her a fire whiskey that she had tried to push away, but he made her drink it promising it would warm her up. The drink had indeed burned all the way to her stomach, but the shivering had not stopped.

Refusing any more of the horrid drink, she had let him tuck her into his bunk, murmuring reassurances that Leander would be okay. It still hadn’t fully sunk in how he had helped. Sebastian hated Leander, and she had given him good reason to want to hurt him, but he had done no such thing. She had shared Montgomery’s surprise, and needed to thank him for his kindness, but the words were stuck solid behind her fear.

He had done it for her. I’ll do whatever it takes, MC.

Her throat ached with fresh tears but she bit them back, swallowing down the softer parts of herself behind the safety of her thick walls. Not until she knew that Leander was alive and well would she allow herself to take a true, deep breath.

Sebastian stroked her hair, the solid weight of him leaning against the side of the bunk a comfort despite the distance she had needed to put up. She felt the press of his lips at her temple and closed her eyes, a brief respite at the soft warmth, before the rustling of the tent doorway made her rigid once again.

“Well, isn’t this cosy,” a soft, feminine voice drawled.

If there was one thing you could say about her and Sebastian, it was how in tune they were when it came to that sense of threat. Sebastian was on his feet in one fluid motion, and she was upright, blankets thrown back and her feet hitting the floor just as fast. Once again, despite her superior power, Sebastian edged until he was slightly before her, ever the protector.

Luella Rookwood stood in the entrance of the tent, her beautiful face decorated with smudges of dirt and splatters of blood. Her blonde curls were escaping from the pins that held it back, her mouth twisted in displeasure, her eyes spitting furious envy as she glared.

“What do you want?” Sebastian asked carefully, his hand hovering at his wand holster.

Luella smirked, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. “Not your usual greeting for me, Sebastian,” she drawled, her gaze lingering over him. “Is that for her benefit?”

MC forgot her fear for a moment, hatred pure and cold solidifying in her gut. The way this bitch tried to claim Sebastian merely added to the utter thirst for revenge that thrummed thick and hot through her blood. Luella had hurt Leander. She was the reason he had looked like Death could come to claim him. MC didn’t even remember doing it, but her wand was already in her hand, her fingers clamped around the handle like a vice.

“Get out,” MC hissed, barely hanging on to the threads of her control.

Luella lifted an eyebrow in bored curiosity. “Are you threatening me, little prisoner?”

MC felt Sebastian’s touch against her lower back, a silent warning. “Nobody is threatening anyone,” he said softly, but MC heard the tell tale silky tone in his voice. It was the voice he used in the duelling pit, smooth and controlled, but behind it was a storm waiting to be unleashed. “Why are you here, Luella? It’s late.”

“And yet, Daddy’s little pet is here, tucked up all snug in your bed,” she said, moving closer, slow and deliberate like a prowling cat. “Does my father know you’re playing with his new toy?”

“No more than he knew about us,” Sebastian said smoothly.

The smirk that curved Luella’s mouth made MC’s blood curdle, her fingers adjusting around her wand. “What’s the matter little prisoner? You look a little tense. You did know that I used to share that bed once, hmm? Something tells me that I was merely keeping it warm, though. A convenient bit of fun until you crawled back out of Azkaban.”

It was hard to tell if the reproachful look she gave Sebastian was genuine or not. Either way, MC felt rage blister up her spine, her limbs trembling for a completely different reason now. She felt Sebastian grip the back of her blouse, but it didn’t stop the surge of power that coursed through her veins. Her ancient magic truly did thrive on powerful emotions, and MC felt like she might actually implode from the spinning web of feelings assaulting her this evening.

Luella’s eyes widened and she took a hesitant step back, her hand grasping for her wand. “Gods, look at her eyes,” she muttered, throwing Sebastian a bewildered glance. “What’s happening to her?”

Sebastian’s lips twitched upwards, a look that bordered on the edge of pride lighting his eyes. “Isn’t she quite marvellous?” He said, his fingers caressing up and down her spine. “All that power, just waiting to be unleashed. It’s easy to see why your father is quite taken by her. A true rarity in the world.”

Luella lifted her chin, her mouth settling into an entitled pout, her wand at the ready. “Father always did like his trinkets and toys, although he tires of them quickly, discarding them for something newer and prettier. Something you have in common with him, Sebastian.”

Luella’s eyes glittered with challenge. Clearly, her ego suffered at his rejection. MC grit her teeth, sick of the fancy word play. Her magic seemed to crackle and fizz at her fingertips, the tremor visible in her wand hand as she aimed towards Luella’s stylish, black boots. The short, sharp blast of white hot magic erupted from the end of her wand, striking the floor of the tent right before Luella’s feet. The whole space lit up with the ancient magic glow, making all three of them wince. Luella yelped and jumped back, but not before the magic had scorched the lower parts of her trousers and ruined the fine leather of her boots.

Her head jerked upwards, blonde curls bouncing as she fixed her enraged eyes on MC. “You dare to strike at me!” She hissed.

Sebastian had his wand up and ready, his hand once again grasping the back of her shirt. MC had the growing suspicion that he clung on to her in fear that she might disappear. He seemed reluctant to leave her side, and kept a constant hand on her. Reigning in the surging power of her magic, MC sucked in a steadying breath, but kept her aim on Luella.

“I’m going to make you squeal in pain, little prisoner,” Luella vowed, her eyes narrow slits of hate. “I’ll make you fear every mirror you come across knowing the horror your own reflection will provide once I’m through with you.”

“Now, now, Luella, my sweet. Less of the dramatics, if you would. That is no way to speak to my guest,” Rookwood said smoothly, entering the tent behind his daughter with his usual air of confidence and flair. He smiled with all the icy charm of a venomous snake, his gaze sweeping around the tent whilst wrinkling his nose in disdain. “My word, Sallow. This tent is rather lacklustre. You ought to upgrade, dear boy. Put your wand work to good use other than for torture and death, and transfigure yourself some more luxurious furnishings.”

Luella quietly seethed beside her father, her cheeks flushed and her fists clenched at her sides. “Look what she did to my boots,” she said, pointing down towards her feet, her words ground out through clenched teeth.

Rookwood barely gave them a second glance before he shrugged. “Conjure yourself a new pair,” he suggested.

“Are you joking?” Luella scoffed, her mouth tightening. “These boots came from Paris, the finest craftsmanship there is! There is no conjuring a pair such as these.”

Rookwood sighed and pinched his thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose. “Then return to Paris for a new pair if it means that much to you. I care little,” he said, his voice thin on patience. He gave them all a withering look. “Now then, what’s all this petty squabbling about? I sent you over here to ask Sallow about the missing prisoners. Where are we on that matter, daughter dearest? May I remind you that my patience is already dangerously thin after this evening's series of events. Some good news would be most welcome now.”

MC shuffled closer towards Sebastian and she could feel the tension in his grip on the back of her shirt. This is where they needed to play it calm and steady. MC gripped her wand with both hands and settled her features into the blank, cold stare she so favoured.

“Your daughter barged in here and disturbed my rest,” she said, her voice cool and level. “After days hiking through the Highlands on the hunt for ancient magic deposits, I was feeling rather exhausted and retired early. I’m not sure I appreciate being awoken and threatened in such a manner.”

Luella glared with outright hatred, her eyes wide at the sheer audacity. Sebastian dipped his head, no doubt fighting a smirk.

“You were sleeping? So, you missed the drama concerning the Auror ambush?” Rookwood asked his questions, his cold, blue eyes assessing her carefully.

MC tilted her chin upwards as she nodded to confirm. “Sebastian was just filling me in on tonight’s news when Luella charged in here. I’m not sure I appreciate such hostility. It’s also rather dangerous considering how charged my magic is after absorbing new deposits. It can be rather unstable and difficult to control. I’m afraid some magic unleashed itself and damaged Miss Rookwood’s footwear.”

The lies rolled easily from MC’s tongue, spoken to appeal to Rookwood’s sheer greed over her magic as a means of distraction. It appeared to work, his eyes lighting up at the mention of her absorbing more power. “You were successful in your search, then?”

“Indeed we were,” Sebastian said, his voice dripping with cool confidence. “And we think it should be easier to find more now. It appears the deposits could be linked to deep emotions, and we plan to continue the search. With your blessing, of course.”

“Of course,” Rookwood said, dipping forward in a slight bow. “And you shall have it.”

Luella folded her arms, her face screwed up in frustrated disgust. “This still doesn’t explain how my Aurors managed to escape from the prisoner tent,” she fumed.

“That sounds rather close to an accusation, Luella,” Sebastian said, tilting his head. “Are you suggesting MC had something to do with their escape?”

MC arranged her features into a grimace. “Why in Merlin’s name would I help any bloody Aurors? I’ve spent the last few years locked up behind bars because of those pricks, I can’t say liberating one of them is high on my list of priorities.”

“Indeed,” Rookwood said, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his chin. “In this case there were two captured Aurors.”

“One of them was a tall redhead by the name of Prewett,” Luella said, her face now sickeningly smug. “I remembered you mentioning this particular Auror before, Sebastian. Isn’t he the one who visited you in Azkaban, little prisoner? He escorted you out as well by all accounts. I thought a little reunion might have been particularly interesting. The fact he managed to get away whilst crippled by injuries is both puzzling and disappointing.”

MC felt fear begin to trickle down her spine. This bitch knew too much about Leander already. “I remember him,” she said stiffly. “I can’t say I’m in a hurry to see him again, either.”

How bitter the words tasted on her tongue when her entire being itched to travel to London and lay eyes on Leander. The need to see him alive and healed pressed with an urgency that made her want to fidget, but she held herself firm.

“Not even to whisper secrets into his ear?” Rookwood leant forward, his gaze so piercing that MC fancied it felt like ice scraping along her bones. “The Daily Prophet deems you a public risk, and the Ministry claims they have it all under control. It’s a tricky situation. I have you here in the midst of my family where you can hear all sorts of wonderfully dark secrets, and now prisoners are disappearing, my lock ups are being raided. Tell me, sweet one, what you would think in my position?”

MC refused to cower under his scrutiny. She had faced Dementors, she had stared into darkness that tried to clutch her within its grasp and chase all reason from her head. This was just a far reaching, greedy man and she was sick of all the game playing. She could handle this. She felt her spine stiffen, her face became hard and cold, her eyes glittering chips of stone to equal his. She had become one with her wall of defence, all that was soft and vulnerable so deeply hidden by this cold fury she presented that it could have been non-existent.

“I suppose that all depends on what it is you truly want, Rookwood,” she said carefully, tilting her head as though pondering his question. “I mean, if it bothers you so much, I could always just leave. Without me, there is no power, the problem goes away. I shall continue to research and grow my understanding of what I am capable of regardless of your involvement. You have ambitions. I get that. It seems to me that you need me more than I need you, though. Choose what you wish to believe, but don’t play games with me, and don’t send your daughter into my private space so she can throw accusations and threats around. Next time, I won’t be so polite, and perhaps it will be more than a pair of scorched boots for her trouble.”

Luella gaped, incredulous. “Are you hearing this, father? You see how she threatens me to our very faces?”

Rookwood considered MC carefully, his eyes subtly narrowing as he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. When his gaze flicked towards Sebastian, a slight frown creased his brow. “You truly are a cold little thing, aren’t you? And yet, Sallow appears unaffected by you. He stands as if he would protect you, unflinching. What hold do you have over him, hmm? You killed his kin in cold blood, and yet he remains loyal to you.”

MC shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, whilst her heart thudded with a frenzied rhythm beneath her ribs. “He has the same choice as you, Rookwood. He can stay, or he can leave. Either way, it makes no difference to me, or my magic. But, he has been with me since the beginning. He understands. He also knows that I could kill him at any moment, I could kill anyone. Ashwinder, Auror, or otherwise. I’ve been crossed by all of you and the only person I fully trust is myself.”

It took everything she had to stop her hands from shaking, from breathing in rapid gasps, as she pondered the truth of that statement.

“I’ve seen what she can do, Rookwood,” Sebastian said, following the thread she had begun to weave with his habitual confidence. “You’ve seen it, too. Mere glimpses perhaps, but you know as well as I that MC is dangerous. The Ministry knows it just as well, and I don’t doubt that they will have eyes on her. They would be fools not to. I also believe that MC hasn’t reached her full potential yet, there has to be more. Are you willing to suffocate that over a pair of missing Aurors that mean little to this cause? They were nothing more than toys for your Ashwinders to break, and yet you risked having them here in camp where they could lay eyes on MC. What if they did hear she was present? They now have that information to take back to the Auror Office. You risk them coming to claim her back under the ruse of arrest.”

Rookwood threw a disgusted glare towards Luella, who flinched back in surprise. “The boy has a point,” he snarled.

“You would take their side over your own daughter?” She cried, spluttering in disbelief. “Are you seriously going to believe all this graphorn shit they are speaking?”

MC could have hugged Sebastian right then for his clever manipulation of words. He had always been able to squirm his way out of trouble, deflecting attention by highlighting points that pressed upon a person’s weaknesses. He was dangerous when it came to these types of games, and she was fully aware of how she was equally liable to fall for it. His tenacity had always been a trait that she had admired, though.

Rookwood’s mouth was a white line, his usual theatrical presence squashed under a temper that flickered cold fire in his gaze. “These two bring me news of success in the form of discovered deposits. You bring me chaos and two problems in the form of escaped prisoners who now have potential intelligence on us. You who should know better!”

Luella’s cheeks flushed scarlet, her eyes darting towards MC, who couldn’t resist a cold, satisfied smirk in return. The indignation on her face was far too satisfying for words, so instead, MC reached out a hand and caught hold of Sebastian’s, linking their fingers in a bold statement of unity. That’s right, bitch. He is mine.

“Sebastian and I intended to return to the search for more deposits at first light. Is that going to be a problem?” MC asked, her tone exceptionally calm and innocent.

Rookwood turned his granite expression her way, his eyes scanning them both in a way that made her palms itch. “Do what you must. Absorb all deposits you come across,” he nodded. He turned and grasped Luella by the elbow. “As for you, daughter of mine. We have matters to discuss in private.”

With a gentleman’s bow and a tip of his top hat, Rookwood exited the tent with a furious Luella in tow, the last look she threw back towards MC livid with a promise that this wasn’t over.

MC stood completely still, her fingers gripping Sebastian’s hand as the sound of departing footsteps receded from the tent. The opening fell closed, flapping gently in the night breeze that came down off the surrounding high peaks. She could hear her own restrained breathing, the erratic pulse in her ears from the effort of maintaining such tight control. It had been too easy. Rookwood had rolled over without any push back at all, and it left her uneasy.

Sebastian let out a long sigh as though he, too, felt the tension. He pushed his fingers through his mop of hair and brought their clasped hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “You are brilliant,” he said quietly. She lifted her gaze to him, the strength of her barriers wobbling. “Scary, but brilliant.”

One look at those chocolate coloured eyes and the defences fell. She sagged, shaking from the adrenaline and stunned at her own audacity. Of course, he caught her. She was held against his chest as he wrapped strong arms around her, her own hands clutching at his jacket in an effort to ground herself.

“I’ve got a really horrible feeling about this, Seb,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, remembering the flash of furious envy in Luella’s eyes when she noticed the deliberate way MC had held Sebastian’s hand. In trying to show a front of strength, she had allowed her own jealousy to get the better of her, and she had shown her hand in more ways than one.

“You weren’t wrong, MC. You do hold all the power, and that is just what Rookwood wants,” Sebastian said, stroking soothing hands down her back. “It will be alright. You’ll see.”

“We should just cut our losses and kill him now,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “We could do it easily. Kill him, take what we can, and run, before anyone else has to get hurt.”

“If you think it’s easy to get access to his collections, think again. They are well hidden and guarded. Killing him now will cut us off to all the artefacts and knowledge he has stored, all the items that belonged to Isadora that he stole. I know how much you want those,” Sebastian said, cupping her face. “Not only that, what’s to stop the Ministry arresting you for his murder again? They can claim you are unstable, you broke the terms of your probation, and they could throw you back into Azkaban in order to keep you under control. I am not going to risk that happening again, MC.”

“How many more people have to get hurt, or even die because of this cursed magic festering in my veins,” she hissed, clenching her hands in frustration as angry tears burned under her lids. “Why did it have to be me? Why did I have to be given this power? I don’t want it, Sebastian. I hate it!”

“Hey, hey, easy now,” he soothed, making her look up at him, his thumbs easing across her cheeks. “Take a breath. You’ve got this, MC. Your power is a gift, and I don’t know anyone else who could handle it as beautifully as you do. You amaze me with your strength, your ability to keep that gorgeous head up despite everything that gets thrown at you.”

She stared at him, her eyes softening slightly. “You and that smooth talking mouth of yours, Sallow,” she huffed.

A smile flashed on his lips, but a shadow of concern drifted into his eyes just as quickly. “This defeatist talk. Is it because of Prewett and what happened this evening?”

MC dipped her gaze to his neck, her fingers toying at the open collar of his black shirt as she swallowed past the ache in her throat. “He could have died. Seeing him like that…” She paused, horror clamping her in a vice. She closed her eyes and took a breath. “It was my fault. He wouldn’t have been in those tunnels if I hadn’t told him about them. You were right. It was me. I sent word to him, and now he is in St Mungo’s fighting for his life. All because of me.”

A muscle ticked in Sebastian’s jaw. “How did you tell him?”

Warmth crept across her cheeks, but she didn’t flinch or hide from him. “We have a secret method of communication. Please, don’t ask me to explain. The less you know about it, the better. Just in case this all goes to shit.”

“You know trust needs to work both ways,” he said quietly, his eyes guarded. “You said you wanted to trust me, but I need to be able to trust you, too.”

She nodded. “You’re right, of course,” she said. “Any other information you share with me, I will tell you if I intend to share it with Leander. Like you said, we are all on the same side here.”

Sebastian held on to his wariness, but he was gentle as he held her chin and bent his head to hers. “It will be a cold day in hell before I trust an Auror, but I hear you. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

His lips were warm and soft, and MC welcomed the feel of his kiss, drawing a little comfort from the intimacy. Each kiss, each caress of his hands eased the tightness in her tense muscles, added a seal to the spoken bond of trust they needed to enforce between them. Her blood fired with a different kind of magic that came from the unexplainable pull he had on her, their bodies seeming to have an understanding far beyond their comprehension.

Once again, she found herself curled against him, his arms holding her close as they drowsed on the edge of sleep. His hands roamed up and down her back, shaping her hips and sliding contentedly along her thigh. The occasional soft brush of lips against her face, ear and neck sent shivers across her flesh. As intimate and as comforting this shared closeness felt, MC could not shake that uneasy niggle that something wasn’t quite right.

The hour was very late when she whispered in his ear that she needed to excuse herself for a moment. He mumbled sleepily, a soft smile lingering on his lips after she pressed a long kiss there before slipping from the warmth of his bed. The air was cold, goosebumps prickling her skin as she pulled on her boots and selected a warm robe from her chest. Pausing at the tent entrance, she glanced back towards the bed, soaking in the image of Sebastian asleep, his hair tumbled against the pillow.

“Please, trust me,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Quietly slipping out into the night, her breath fogged before her face as she hurried away from the tent, not wanting the snap of her Disapparating to wake him. The stars shone above her head, innocent observers to the dark and twisted lives that played out below. Under the cover of some nearby trees, MC felt a flutter of anticipation behind her ribs, bracing herself for the long distance she needed to propel herself across. Closing her eyes, she pictured the city of London, her focus centred on the aged cobbled street of Diagon Alley.

In the shadow of the pitched tents in camp, a figure stood very still, eyes watching as the robed figure of MC left the tent and hurried into the trees. After the crack of her magic made her vanish, a slow grin spread across a knowing mouth, and the figure turned to go and make their report.

Leander

Arriving at St Mungo’s and being tended by Healers became a patchwork of hazy memories that came to Leander in jumbled flashes. The pain in his chest cancelled a lot of lucid moments out, the bitter taste of blood thick in his mouth. Words of reassurance had been spoken into his ear, the gentle hands of Auror Montgomery touching to his brow in hesitant comfort before the Healers had urged her to leave him to rest. In the silence of his designated hospital room, the tangled web of his memories rushed in, and his slowly healing chest began to quicken as he remembered MC being there, the tears on her cheeks. Perhaps most shocking of all, was Sallow. He had helped her. He had helped him.

The healing potions and spells had been strong, knocking him out into a deep, restful sleep. His ribs had begun to knit together, the cracks and breaks becoming smooth bone as though they had never been ruined. His lungs repaired, making his breaths return to their gentle rhythm once more. His head had been cleaned, his hair neatly combed, the wound at the back soon to be a distant, painful memory. Even his hospital issued robe was free of any stain, a spotless, crisp white, edged in blue. The beauty of magic being able to erase all physical traces. The mental struggle was another matter entirely.

Waking from his sleep, Leander blinked slowly against the low light of a bedside lantern, the room still and quiet. There was a lingering ache in his chest, but he could breathe freely, rolling his head against the plush pillow and then stilling as he realised the warm pressure of a hand clasped with his. Glancing down, a swift breath left his lips in surprise at the sight of MC.

Seated in a hard hospital chair, her head was laying against his bed sheets, her dark hair pooled against the starched white, her hand wrapped around his as she slept. There were dark smudges under her closed eyes, but her features were relaxed, lips slightly parted. There was nobody else in the room, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long she had been there, and if anyone had seen the familiar way she lay with him. It was a risk to be caught with her like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand from her grip. Instead, he kept still, watching her rest as he had done so many nights when she had stayed with him, his thumb gently stroking against her warm skin.

He must have dozed off again, because the next thing he knew, he felt the press of a kiss to his forehead. Blinking his eyes open, he stared up into flawless, spring sky blue, a smile lingering on MC’s face as she stared down at him.

“Ah, so you’ve decided to join the land of the living after all,” MC said softly, she gave his hand a squeeze, a shadow flickering in her gaze. “You scared me, Lee. Don’t you dare do that again, you hear? I forbid it.”

Amusement twitched at his mouth. “And miss waking up to this beautiful smile? I shall have to think about it.”

Her lips parted and she huffed a short laugh. “Leander Prewett, when did you become such a smooth talker?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he grinned. “It could be all the potions and medicine I’ve swallowed giving me superpowers.”

“All the pretty nurses had better watch out, then,” she smiled, moving back to sit on the edge of the bed, although she kept hold of his hand. He could feel the warmth of it spreading up his arm, but reminded himself not to read too much into it.

“You are taking a risk being here with me,” he said, his voice a little raspy still. “Especially after that ridiculous report in the Daily Prophet. If you are seen with me it could jeopardise you in the camp.”

Her face darkened and she looked down at their joined hands. “It might be a bit late for that. I think I have fucked up anyway. I’ve got a bad feeling, Lee. Something just feels off, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean? Tell me,” he urged, frowning slightly as he tried to sit up a bit more. She put her hand against his shoulder and pressed him back against the pillows with a firm look.

“Just remember you are here to heal and rest,” she said, holding him there until he allowed himself to relax. Slipping her hand back into her lap, she glanced towards the door and leant closer to murmur quietly. “Rookwood is rolling over too easily. I don’t like how he just accepts everything that I say with a smile. He fucked me over once before, there is no reason for him to not try it again. I know he already has an idea to drain the ancient magic from me, but I can’t get rid of this nagging that there is something else.”

Leander’s frown deepened and he pushed back against the fog lingering at the edges of his memories, rubbing his face as he tried to remember his conversation with Andrew Larson before the raid on the tunnels.

“I mentioned Merlin and Morgana to Andrew, and he did find a few documents about them, although there was only a very brief mention of ancient magic,” he said. He gave her a curious look. “He did say something about Rackham, though. He is one of the Keepers below Hogwarts, isn’t he?”

MC nodded. “Yes, he was a vessel of ancient magic, too. It was his portrait that I spoke to the most about it during my time at Hogwarts. He gave me the impression that he led the other three, but despite the words of wisdom he offered me, I always felt as though he was holding back. All three of them did, to be honest.”

“Andrew tells me that there is a lot more to be discovered when it comes to Rackham, that there are files in the Department of Mysteries about him and his visions. He was a Seer, and whatever he relayed to the Ministry is kept under strict lock and key. This isn't an unusual practice. Predictions about the future can be dangerous if in the wrong hands.”

“What if the visions are about a particular person? Do they not have the right to view these predictions?” MC asked, her chin tilting upwards. “Do you think there are predictions about me in there?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said, shaking his head. “I suppose it is possible considering the ability you both share. I don't have access to the Department of Mysteries and neither does Andrew up to a point. We have spoken before about how secretive they are.”

MC looked deep in thought, her teeth worrying at her lower lip for a moment as she stared blankly across the room. “Maybe it is time that I paid a visit to Professor Rackham again,” she said, her voice tinged with reluctance. She gave him a dark, resigned look. “It would mean returning to Hogwarts and the chamber beneath. I can’t say the idea is all that appealing, but if I explain the situation, perhaps I can get Rackham to talk.”

“I can speak to the Head of the Auror Office and set things in motion with Headmaster Black,” Leander offered, that eager feeling washing through him at the thought of getting back to work. “I can go to Hogwarts with you, if you wish. You don’t have to go alone.”

Her eyes seemed full of sadness as she looked at him, her other hand shifting to close over both of their clasped ones. “You really are too good for this world, Lee. Look at you offering to follow me into even more trouble when you’re lying here in this hospital bed. You don’t deserve such darkness, especially from me,” she said, blinking quickly as she dropped her gaze.

“Hey, I didn’t take the role of an Auror expecting rainbows and unicorns, MC. Getting hurt is a risk, but it’s part of the territory. It’s why they reserve beds for us here. Don’t take the responsibility of this onto your own shoulders. I won’t let you,” he insisted.

She gave a nod, but avoided his gaze, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Do it. Set up a visit to Hogwarts, and as soon as possible. I don’t want to give Rookwood too much time with his plotting. Sebastian and I are going to keep away from the camp for a few days under the ruse of seeking out more deposits for me to absorb.”

“A ruse?” He frowned. “What will you really be doing?”

MC leaned even closer, her eyes darting towards the door again. “I want to revisit Isadora’s old haunts, maybe there was something I missed the first time around,” she whispered. “I also want to track down more information about my mother. If she truly still lives, I want to find her. Ominis is helping me with that. His aunt, my mother’s sister, left him her house in Norfolk, and he has given me permission to go there and read some old family journals that may help. Rookwood must not know about my connection to the Gaunts. I’d rather Marvolo Gaunt doesn’t find out, either.”

“Okay. Just be careful,” he nodded, holding her hand a little bit tighter. His other hand drifted up to brush back strands of her hair, his fingertips grazing against the shell of her ear. “And stay in touch via the parchment. I cannot help but worry about you.”

“Only if you do the same,” she said, meeting his gaze.

He couldn’t stop the pleased smile curving his mouth. “You worry about me?”

“That is not what I said, Prewett,” she said, sitting up primly, but warmth lingered in her eyes.

Leander would have loved to say more, to tease more smiles to her mouth, but the door to his room opened. MC jolted and slid her hand from his, rising quickly to her feet as she turned to face the door. The loss of her warmth was regrettable, but he too had stiffened in the bed as Auror Montgomery entered, pausing in surprise to see MC standing there. Leander felt his cheeks and neck heat up, adjusting his bed sheet nervously.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Montgomery said, her own cheeks reddening. “I didn’t expect you to have visitors already at this hour.”

Her gaze darted curiously between MC and himself, and he cleared his throat, his jumbled thoughts grasping for something to say, but MC seemed to have things under control. She stepped towards Montgomery.

“I should be the one to apologise,” she said smoothly. “I took a risk coming here tonight, but I needed to make sure that Lea…erm, Auror Prewett was well. I thought a visit during the day would raise too many questions.”

Montgomery arched a brow. “And your visit now doesn’t warrant a few curious questions?”

MC stiffened. “Considering I saved your neck tonight, any questions you may think you have will surely be kept behind closed lips. Lives are at risk, Auror Montgomery, including your own now that the Ashwinders know your face.”

Leander bit his lip as the two women stared each other down. He had become so accustomed to the rare warmth that MC allowed him to see, that to witness the colder, harder side of her still managed to make him shiver. Perhaps more surprising, was the way Montgomery kept her head up, and rather than cower under what was surely a hard glare in MC’s eyes, she merely nodded.

“I must thank you for your assistance. You did indeed save our lives tonight, both you and Mr Sallow have my sincere thanks,” Montgomery said. “I did not expect it from Sallow. You will forgive my surprise that he leant a hand.”

“All you have heard about Sebastian is what the Aurors want you to hear,” MC said. “I am fortunate to know him better than that. Things aren’t always what they appear to be, Montgomery. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to Scotland before I am missed.”

When MC turned to him, Leander saw the hardened expression on her face, but for him, she allowed a softness to darken her eyes. “Rest up now, Prewett,” she said. “I will be in touch.”

Leander nodded, his eyes doing the talking, and then she was gone, walking swiftly out of the door into the corridor beyond. Montgomery watched her go before closing the door softly, her gaze turning to him with burning curiosity.

“Before you say anything, MC is right. The less you know about her, the safer you will be,” he said quickly, holding up a hand.

Montgomery moved closer towards the bed, her hands smoothing the front of her skirts. “The last thing I would ever wish to do is cause you any trouble, Prewett,” she said carefully, but her eyes were still lit with that burning curiosity. “But, anyone who sees the two of you together can clearly see that there is something between you. You did not see what I did whilst you were badly hurt. This is much more than an Auror and his informant. That girl cares for you, and deeply. Only a fool would not see it.”

“I have known her for a very long time,” he said, reaching up to fiddle with the front of the hospital gown. “We were friends as children, school friends. That was partly the reason Harrington assigned me to her case in the first place, thinking that our previous bond would be beneficial in coaxing her to cooperate.”

Montgomery frowned slightly as she sat in the chair that MC had used, her back perfectly straight, hands clasped in her lap. “Well, I must say it seems to have worked wonderfully well. She seems rather taken with you. It is puzzling, though. From reading the case files, I thought that she was romantically involved with Sallow. He was awfully touchy with her. You could almost say possessive. I am still in shock how he helped us, he is not what I expected at all.”

Leander closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over him. “What can I say? This is a complicated case.”

Never had a statement been more appropriate. Montgomery eyed him, lifting a hand as though to place it on his forearm, and then thought better of it. She pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket instead and tucked it into his hand.

“I can see you are tired, but the reason I came is to give you this,” she said, her eyes lighting up with that fire and spirit he had come to recognise. His fingers curled around the smooth parchment. “I swiped it from the office just now and came straight here. The other Aurors were more successful in the tunnels, they have seized many crates of valuable items that are being assessed as we speak. There was also a ledger full of names and dates, but this…this is a map of other locations situated around the British Isles. These could be more storage locations, or dens, perhaps.”

Leander sat up straighter and opened the folded parchment, his tiredness forgotten. “This is huge, Montgomery. Why did you bring it to me? Surely Harrington and the others will be already planning to investigate these locations.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “They would if they knew about it. I happened to be having a poke around the books they had seized, and this fell out of one. When I saw it was a map, my curiosity got the better of me, and then I knew it would be of importance when I saw the symbol at the top.”

She reached forward to point at the little swirling icon near the top, and it was only then that Leander noted the date in the top corner. He met Montgomery’s amber eyes, his own curiosity firing into life. “That is the symbol for ancient magic,” he whispered. “How did you know that?”

Montgomery blushed furiously and twisted her hands in her lap. “Well, you see, I was a second year when MC came to Hogwarts. When the truth about her spread around the school, I was in awe of her, and the magic that she could wield. I have been reading anything that I could get my hands on about ancient magic, which to be honest is very little. She fascinates me. I couldn’t believe my luck when I landed a position on this case, and to be partnered with you of all Aurors. You have a connection to the woman herself!”

Leander stared at Montgomery, his lips parted. “You…you make her seem like a…a goddess, or a super human entity,” he stuttered.

“Well, isn’t she?” Montgomery shrugged. “She has power beyond anything the rest of us can understand, she defeated a goblin rebellion and fought against the most powerful dark wizard of our time, or at least so we thought. Now, she has come out of Azkaban seemingly unfazed, and walks amongst the most dangerous wizards in the country. To come face to face with her was extraordinary, especially when it became apparent that she was saving us.”

Leander swallowed and leant back against his pillows. To him, she had always been MC, the girl he couldn’t stop staring at over the plants in Herbology. So caught up in how enamoured he was of her, he hadn’t given much thought to her having an elevated status in the eyes of others. He felt reasonably confident that he knew the girl behind the mystical powers, behind the articles written about her. The pedestal he had placed her upon varied significantly from the one Montgomery clearly cherished.

He turned his gaze to Montgomery, remembering the time she had almost begged to accompany him on his meeting with MC, the sparkle of curiosity that constantly lingered in her gaze. A chill swept down his spine as he came to the realisation that others could see the same in MC, hero worshipping her in ways that meant they would follow wherever she led. With all that ancient magic at her fingertips, she could summon an army and cause mass destruction if she chose the dark path.

For the first time he seriously considered how dangerous MC actually was, and how deeply he had involved himself in assisting her. He swallowed thickly again, his throat unbearably dry.

“Did you still hold this fascination with her when she was imprisoned for murder?” He asked.

Montgomery grimaced and shook her head. “I was devastated. She went from saving the world, to taking lives. It fuelled my motivation to become an Auror, though. As I progressed through my training, I came to wonder if perhaps things were not so black and white. Seeing your first dead body raises questions one would rather not face,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Tonight merely confirmed it for me. The way she is with you, saving you like that, and she even said it herself just now. Things are not always what they seem, there are shades of grey blended in the blacks and the whites of the world, and underneath all that power, is she not a human like the rest of us. I believe she is.”

“What are you saying?” He asked carefully.

She nodded down at the parchment map in his hands. “That map means something. I couldn’t fully understand it beyond recognising that ancient magic symbol. Some of the locations are familiar, of course, but I am certain this is far more valuable in the hands of MC than in the hands of the Auror Office.”

“But, that’s withholding evidence, Montgomery,” he chided gently, the rule breaking chaffing a little despite his own little discretions. “Is that really how you want to start your career?”

Her face settled into one of determination, her eyes lit with it. “I believe in seeking out the truth, and gaining justice for those who deserve it. You strike me as being of like mind, Auror Prewett, and I don’t believe for one moment that you believe MC to be the villain the world wants to paint her as. I would even go so far as to say that you would do anything for her, even break a few rules for her, rules such as not becoming emotionally involved with a suspect.”

Her eyebrows lifted in a knowing smirk, and Leander felt a fierce flush heat his cheeks.

“I want to help you,” she said firmly, her hands gripped tightly in her lap. “Taking the map was my first step into dangerous territory, I am fully aware of it, but I think this will be worth it. MC is one for the history books, and I want to be a part of it. Let me help you, Auror Prewett. Let me help her.”

Leander was astounded, and he sat there staring at his new partner with fresh eyes. She was right about this being dangerous territory, and another person in the know merely added more risk, but it would be mighty lovely to have someone on his side in the office other than Andrew. Perhaps he should doubt her intentions, maybe this could be a trap to catch him out, but the way she stared at him, she appeared resolute and fully aware of what she was saying to him. He glanced down at the map, noting the locations, one of which was Hogwarts School. What did it mean?

Montgomery was already in it up to her neck stealing this map, and she had seen too much already between him and MC. It was a cold thought, but if the circumstances required it, Montgomery could be silenced. It made him quiver in horror just to think of it, but he knew MC wouldn’t hesitate should this prove to be a trap, neither would Sallow.

“You know the risks this would present, and not just to you, but those you are close to as well,” he said slowly, his gaze serious.

She nodded. “Anything worth fighting for always comes with risk.”

“And you think MC is worth fighting for?”

“I really hope so, Auror Prewett,” she said, her eyes shining with her hope. “The potential she has…the good she could do. Is that a yes? You’ll let me help you?”

Leander sighed and smoothed his hand over the map before nodding. “Yes, you can help me,” he replied. Montgomery uttered an excited squeal and clapped her hands together. He bit back a smile. “You may as well start by dropping the formality. Call me Leander.”

Her smile lit up her face. “And you may call me Ivy.”

Sebastian

Waking up to find MC missing had tightened the ball of lead that had settled in his stomach ever since Rookwood had left the tent. Both Luella and her father were dangerous people, and MC had boldly thrown down the gauntlet in front of them. He hadn’t argued when she had voiced her concerns that something felt off, but reassuring her seemed the best option. Inside, he was shitting a brick.

Launching himself out of his bunk, he pulled on his boots, the panic like vicious claws as he double checked that his wand was in his holster. He had to find her.

Where had she gone? The fear that Rookwood had taken her hovered, but she could fight him off fairly well, and she wouldn’t have gone quietly, either. The other option presented a different kind of fear, the fear of what it meant for their relationship if she had run off to London to find Prewett. She said she had chosen him, that she would have to let the Auror go, but the way she had crumbled at the sight of Prewett bloodied up and dying fed into his flames of envy and fear. Not only did he fear losing her, but she could end up blowing the entire cover story if caught being soft for an Auror.

Throwing on his jacket and running a quick hand through his jumble of hair, he strode out of the tent, greeted with the cold air of pre-dawn. A strip of gold and pink lit the horizon, the nearby trees a dark shadow crouched at the base of the nearby peaks. His lungs burned as he breathed in the chill, his breath out fogging before his face as he glanced around camp. At this hour, it was quiet, the fires burning low. A distant bird gave an early call at the impending rise of the sun, the last few stars still clinging to the sky.

He missed Rosier, a second pair of eyes would have been rather handy about now as he stalked through the camp, his gaze darting into every corner. His stomach rumbled in protest, but breakfast would have to wait. He needed to lay eyes on MC before anything else took priority. Footsteps sounded behind him, boots on packed dirt, and he turned, glancing over his shoulder. He paused as Luella gave him a sultry smirk, her hair neatly pinned back from her face now.

“Morning, handsome,” she purred, stepping closer towards him. “You’re up early. What’s the matter? I’m surprised your little bed warmer didn’t keep you tucked up under your blankets. Or, maybe…just maybe, she isn’t there?”

‘Where is she?” His eyes narrowed, his fingers flexing against the cold, mountain air.

Luella chuckled, one hand on her hip. “She is a piece of work, your little prisoner, isn’t she? So hard, so cold, so uptight. How is cuddling up to her better than what we had? I was never that cold with you, sweetie. We were all about fire and fun.”

“Enough with the games, Luella,” he said, his voice flat and bored. His stomach twisted, waiting for the trap to spring. She was far too cocky not to know anything. “Clearly, you have a point to make, so make it. Where is MC?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she shrugged, her smile borderline devious. She twirled her wand playfully. “Although, if I were to put a few galleons on it, I would wager she is in the company of Aurors right now. I’m right, aren’t I? You think I'm a fool, Sebastian, and you know how I hate to be made a fool of, don’t you?”

“I don’t think you’re a fool at all, Luella,” he said, keeping his face cool and calm. He even dared to smirk a little. “As for the Aurors, I couldn’t confirm or deny such a claim as I have no idea, either. If she is with them, then she has played me, too.”

Her smile widened, her head tilting as she studied him. “Interesting. Well, I guess we shall find out.”

He frowned. “Oh? How’s that?”

“Father wishes to see you,” she said, her smile disappearing. “He has a little surprise for you.”

Sebastian stilled, his smirk fading as he realised he was unlikely to enjoy this little surprise. Luella came closer, standing before him, her eyes glittering with something that made his spine freeze. She held out her hand to him. “Shall we?”

He felt sick. Everything inside of him screamed to run in the opposite direction, but he couldn’t do that. There was too much at stake here. Feigning a confidence he didn’t feel, he smiled as he slipped his hand into Luella’s. She Disapparated instantly, dropping them into the centre of a freezing ruin, stone walls crumbling against a backdrop of wild Scottish landscape.

“Ah, at last! Here he is,” Rookwood announced, holding out his arms in a gesture of welcome, his smile arrogant and cold. “Welcome, dear boy, welcome. We have been waiting for you.”

A muffled cry came from the side and he turned his head, his stomach dropping so violently that he actually doubled over clutching at it. “No,” he gasped, the word a strangled sound that did nothing to convey the sheer horror and fear that seized him.

Rookwood laughed, his gaze turned to a sky breaking with the dawn of a new day. Luella gripped Sebastian’s arm, her breath against his cheek mingling with the frigid cold breeze that swept through the ancient castle walls. “I warned you, sweetheart,” she murmured. “I warned you this would happen, but you went and fucked me around anyway. Nobody makes a fool out of me, Sebastian. Nobody.”

The horror of this situation sunk wicked, cold claws into him, rendering him speechless, and all the while he could hear this screaming terror spiralling through his head. It was like he was 16 years old again, old bones at his feet, and everything he ever loved was about to be ripped from his grasp.

Walking the clean corridors of St Mungo’s hospital, you could glean the sense of safety that came from good people doing all that they could to assist others. The atmosphere was one of warmth, protection, Healers and nurses moving about the building offering gentle smiles as they passed. If they knew who she was, she didn’t feel any sense of hostility despite the rumpled, dark nature of her clothing, or the untidy locks of her hair that fell loose about her shoulders.

Exhaustion pulled at her, dragging her downwards towards a haze of fog, and she longed to just curl up and vanish into it. That persistent sense that something loomed clung to her, something dark and dangerous just waiting to jump out and destroy everything. Not even the relief of seeing Leander sitting up in bed could dispel it. MC hugged her arms around herself and walked slowly towards the hospital foyer where she could Apparate, finding herself filled with a longing to be held by someone who would tell her that everything would be alright.

The story of her life. She had always held a deep and profound longing for that.

Sebastian waited for her back at camp, no doubt still asleep, his smart mouth softly parted, his pretty hair wild against the pillow. He would hold her. He would hold her for as long and as hard as she wished. She just had to say the word.

Not for the first time, she heard softened footfalls in the corridor behind her, glancing back to just catch the glimpse of a robe swirling out of sight around a corner. She hesitated, a frown creasing her brow. The corridor remained silent, the lamps glowing to provide a low light at this hour. Her sense of impending doom seemed to be making her paranoid, for she felt certain that this robed figure was following her.

Continuing on her way, MC glanced out of a window, the sky beginning to lighten with the first promise of dawn. Quickening her steps, she felt eager to get back to Sebastian. They needed to gather their things and leave, setting out to revisit Isadora’s old hideaways. MC had the urge to walk where she had once trod, soak up the ambience of those old places in the hopes of bridging some connection.

As she entered the foyer, soft footsteps made her turn again, and this time she caught sight of a slender figure in a dark grey robe, the hood raised to cast shadow over the face of whoever it was. They appeared to be female, slender hands tugging the hood lower as they dipped their head.

MC frowned, her hands clenching. “Are you following me?”

The robed girl paused, her back to MC, her head turning slightly as though they might meet her gaze. But, the sharp crack of magic filled the space instead, the robed figure becoming a twisted swirl of black as they Disapparated.

MC flinched, swearing under her breath. That impending sense of doom seemed to sharpen, and her chest tightened. The urge to get to Sebastian swelled and she pictured the inside of his tent back at camp, focusing all of her magic into getting her there. She desperately needed to see his face.

Sebastian

If he closed his eyes hard enough, the memory played out as clear as though he was right back there in the moment. He could feel the gentle dip and sway of the little boat, he could see the way the starlit sky reflected off the surface of the inky black waters of the lake. In the distance, Hogwarts stood proud and strong, the windows lit with the warm glow of welcome. His little freckled hand gripped the side of the boat, the other wrapped tightly around that of his twin. Inside, his stomach was a riot of nerves as he looked up at the huge castle. His heart squeezed at the memory of his mother’s embrace, her tear filled eyes as she bid him farewell. He wanted to make her proud. He would show her. He would prove that he could be as brilliantly clever as she was.

Daunted at the prospect now as he faced where he would live for the foreseeable future, he maintained his brave face, squeezing Anne’s hand and pretending that it was she he was comforting and not the other way around.

“Don’t worry, Sebby,” Anne whispered. “We have each other. Always.”

When he opened his eyes, it was no longer night, and the sky bled with a crimson sunrise. A cold wind gusted against him, ruffling his hair as he choked and spat dirt from his lips. The pain crashed against him like a wave, warping his vision as he twitched and bit back his screams. Fighting it with everything he had, he thrashed on the ground in the centre of the ruin, blinking furiously until he could see her. All the time he could see her, it would be alright.

Anne was on her knees, her mouth gagged and her hands bound at her back. Tears streamed down her sunken cheeks as she watched him. Powerless, weak, trapped. His twin, his other half, the stronger beat of his heart. Kneeling in the dirt with a wand aimed at her head. All the time he took the pain, that wand remained silent.

“Crucio!”

His back arched from the ground, the scream that left his throat left him raw, and tears bled from his eyes. How many times had he inflicted this pain on others? Too many to count. It was so very different to be on the other end of it, but he would take it, he would take everything they had to give to keep their attention off Anne.

His skin felt like it was peeling back away from his flesh, his very bones screamed in agony, wildfire spreading and pulsing until he had no control over anything.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Rookwood called out, delight ringing in his tone as though this was some kind of party game.

Sebastian could not stop shaking, his teeth chattering madly as his eyes rolled trying to focus. He could taste blood in his mouth. He had bitten his own tongue.

A booted foot pressed against the side of his face, pulling an agonised sound from him at being touched. His skin protested savagely at the contact.

“You know better than anyone how much I detest a traitor, Sallow,” Rookwood purred, bending down to look at him, lip curled in disgust. “Think of this as a little warning, if you would.”

The boot lifted and Sebastian writhed, panting and spitting the blood from his mouth. He glared up at Rookwood with all the will he could muster.

“My, my, you are a stubborn bastard,” Rookwood chuckled, stroking his chin. “Bring the twin.”

Sebastian grunted in his effort to get up, falling back into the dirt as Anne was dragged across the ground towards him. She was weeping profusely, fighting her bonds as she was thrown down beside him. Sebastian reached for her with arms shaking so badly he thought he would miss, but his fingers grasped her shawl and he dragged her closer. She moaned, the muffled sound of his name coming from behind her gag.

“Anne,” he managed to gasp, holding her to him. With no hands free to return his embrace, Anne pressed her head to his chest, nuzzling against him like a tiny kitten.

“How touching,” Rookwood crooned. “Sibling love. The things we do for our loved ones, hmm? You can imagine my surprise when I sent for your sister to come and pay us a visit. I do love it when I come across an old acquaintance. It certainly shed some light over some things I have been pondering about.”

He chuckled again and Anne twisted to glare up at him, practically growling with defiance. Rookwood bent to grasp her chin, his wicked grin so gleeful and cold. “Look at you, precious girl, still fighting against the gift I gave you all those years ago. You and your brother have remarkable spirit. Tough, little Scots, brave until the very end, I don’t doubt.”

Anne ripped herself from his grip, falling back against the ground with a thump. Sebastian dragged her into him again, shuddering violently, but determined to hang on to her.

“All we need now is my ancient magic wielder, and then the party will be complete,” Rookwood smirked, glancing around the ruin with smug arrogance. “It’s time for us all to have a little chat.”

Dread coursed through Sebastian, his fingers like claws as he clutched a shivering Anne to his chest. They were waiting for MC. He was a quivering wreck on the ground, barely able to breathe let alone square up to anyone, and both of his girls were in danger. His worst nightmares had become twisted reality.

He looked down at Anne, her big brown eyes looking back at him, eyes so like his own. All the bitterness and fury evaporated, and all he could see was the love he had for her, every time she had held his hand in comfort, every time he had ever returned the favour. He’d do anything for her. It was his job to protect her, and he’d gladly die doing it.

“It’s…alright…” He managed to gasp, his shaking hand touching her hair. “I promise…it’s alright.”

He fiercely wished that he could believe it.

To be continued...

Taglist

@eternalremorse @slytherin-paramour @writing-intheundercroft @evaslytherpuff @loving-him-was-red13 @sevprince-91 @lucy-withthediamonds-inthesky

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

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