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blueraineshadows · 27 days ago

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Sebastian Sallow🔺️F!MC🔺️Leander Prewett

11.8k words. Tags: NSFW / Trauma / Alcohol / Angst / Yearning / Dark magic / Anxiety and PTSD / Grief / Gaunt family drama

AI image of the MC created by @newbienewness with thanks 💜

Chapter Master List and Ao3 link

Chapter 17: Perfectly Misaligned

Sebastian

The darkest hours of the night felt like the lonely hours for Sebastian. It seemed as though the rest of the world slumbered in deepest rest, whilst he would battle the shadows that lurked in the corners of his mind. Guilt and shame would come out to play, and old favourites that often liked to torment him were the memories of his early teenage years. In the aftermath of his parent’s passing, he had struggled to find his way, and Solomon had been a thorn in his side throughout his tortured grieving process. Even now, to this day, he was fairly certain that he hadn’t faced the true depth of his loss. Perhaps that is why he clung so desperately to his belief that saving Anne would save him, too.

After seeing the disturbing artwork that Anne had thought hidden away, the uneasy fear had crept into his bones that Anne was damaged far more deeply than he had first believed. So caught up with his own grief and troubles, perhaps he had not thought to consider that she had her own demons trying to bring her down. He had leaned on her heavily, his guiding light. Perhaps he had been selfish, taking from her and not giving enough back. The thought sobered him, pulling his thoughts downward into a dark spiral that had him pacing the floors of Noctua Gaunt’s old home.

Back then, Anne and he had been alone. If he had let her down, then Solomon had been the only other person she could turn to. For her, not such a terrible thing because she had always been their uncle’s favourite. She had never felt the back of his hand slamming into her cheek, never felt the iron grip of his fingers in her upper arm whilst being dragged to the old shed. There had been no love lost between him and Solomon. It hadn’t been too far a reach to snuff him out as he had.

In a choice between his bullying uncle and the new girl at school with the bewitching eyes, he had chosen MC. She had seen him. She listened to him. She made him feel like he could be better, something more. It hadn't even been a choice.

Entering a room lined with bookcases, furnished with a bureau and arm chairs, Sebastian gazed around, his attention drawn to the family portrait above the fireplace. Moving closer, he studied the faces of the Gaunt siblings, and immediately he could pick out the similarities in MC’s facial features now that he knew what he was looking for. The resemblance to her mother was actually rather striking. How different her life would have been had she been raised within their walls. Would she have been happy? Likely, they would have married her off by now. They would certainly be gloating about the power she possessed, and the notoriety it would bring to their family name.

Anne’s words came back to him, her accusations that he only wanted MC for the power she held in her veins. He couldn’t deny the lure of such magic, and when he had been a fifteen year old with everything to gain, he had been lured towards her mysterious powers, of course. He could never resist discovering new magic, especially when held an element of the forbidden. He had always considered anything new to learn as an opportunity, a chance to soak up new knowledge was a good thing, and never a waste of time.

He hadn’t been prepared for the tempting package that ancient magic had come along with. MC had got under his skin, she had kept him awake at night with thoughts of her voice, her eyes, a mouth that he longed to kiss. Any teenage boy could lose an hour or so on daydreams over a girl, but she had stolen his every waking thought there for a while, even now she remained embedded in his psyche. The first girl he had taken to bed, the only one to ever hold his heart in her hands, and he figured she would always be the only one. He could fall into bed with any number of faceless girls, but it wouldn’t mean anything. Other girls were momentary releases, shallow connections that gave him nothing but hollow feelings and a sense of disconnection to himself. Not like her. With MC, there was truth. She made him feel something that transcended all of that, and made him feel like he could be better, more whole as a person. There was a power in that emotional connection that went further than any magical spell one could cast.

Stroking his fingers against the red scar on his palm, a feeling of resoluteness settled over him. She was the only one he wanted. Anne was wrong, blinded by the darkness that appeared to have swallowed her. MC made his heart pulse with that feeling of being truly alive. When she was close to him, it felt more like home than any four walls ever had. He knew he had fucked up with her, made mistakes, but underneath all the stubborn foolishness and selfish wants, he loved her. Navigating these feelings wasn’t something he could research and learn from a book, he had to learn this path alone and somehow, make her believe that together, they were better. His desire for her remained an ache that lingered, a constant within him, bound to him and strengthened by a promise made as a boy.

And she was out there in the dark searching for his lost sister while he wandered the halls of a house that echoed with the ghosts of its past.

A glance at the clock revealed the late hour, and she still hadn’t returned. It made him tense, anxious, and he pushed a hand through his hair as the need to do something tingled through his restless bones. Making a snap decision, he strode from the little study and sought out Ominis, finding him dozing in his chair by the fire. He put a hand to his shoulder, gently rousing him.

“The hour is late,” he said quietly. “I’m restless, old friend. I want to go and find our girls. Will you be alright if I leave?”

Ominis reached out a hand and Sebastian took it. His skin felt cold, and Sebastian felt a glimmer of concern for him. The shadows under his eyes gave him a look that lived up to his name, drawn and ghost-like.

“I’ve got a terrible feeling,” he said, his voice thin and laced with fatigue. He frowned, his pale eyes like galaxies of ice. “It’s like she has already gone.”

A chill slid down Sebastian’s spine and he squeezed Ominis’ hand a little tighter. “You must not think like that. Both of them are fighters. They will come back to us. I’m going to find them. Make sure you get some proper rest, and eat something while I am gone. Be ready for our return.”

Ominis nodded, but the cloak of doom seemed to linger on his pale face. Sebastian tried to suppress his own fear, swallowing it back with promises to Ominis. Fetching a warm robe and taking another restorative potion, he steeled himself to Apparate out and begin his search.

The throb echoed through her skull, rebounding off the sensitive edges of her existence whilst her stomach seemed to rage and twist violently in a storm of her own making. Every limb felt lethargic, her skin heightened with a triggering sensitivity that made her reluctant to move. Unfortunately, she had no choice but to roll from the comfort of the bed and hit the floor on her knees with a desperate groan.

As if by magic, a chamber pot was placed beneath her nose, and she released the belly full of tumult that made her shiver uncontrollably. As she retched, her vision clouded with stinging tears, and she felt gentle hands pulling her hair back from her face in soothing strokes. Blinking through the confusion spinning in her head, she tried to glance around at her surroundings, picking out things that she recognised. The changing screen, the soft rug nearby, the chest of drawers lit by the weakened rays of a dawn sunrise. She knew this bedroom, but had no idea of how she had come to be in it.

“Lee,” she choked, gasping as another wave of nausea assaulted her.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m right here,” Leander soothed, a firm hand rubbing her lower back. “Just get it all up. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

She sobbed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek and sniffing. “What happened? How did I get here?”

“I brought you here. I came and found you,” he said, handing her a neatly folded handkerchief. She risked kneeling up, the room spinning slightly as she looked up at him, slowly taking the linen and pressing it to her mouth.

She felt sour, disgusting, and she must have looked like it, too. Her mouth felt dry and itchy, her eyes were tight, and her head just rattled with a persistent throb. Leander, on the other hand, looked as impeccably neat and unruffled as ever. His hair was combed, and he was fully dressed and clean shaven.

She searched through the tangled mess of her memories, trying to pinpoint when he had found her. She remembered Hogsmeade in the rain, the chilling conversation with Anne, and Rosier taking her away back to London. Rosier.

She groaned and put a hand to her head as she remembered necking drink after drink, his hand at her waist, his lips on her neck. She shuddered and bent over the chamber pot again, dread mingling with the boiling cauldron of her stomach.

Utterly spent, she tried to get up, legs shaking. Leander helped her get back on the bed, brushing back her hair as she fell back against the pillows.

“I’ll fill a bath for you,” he said, and pointed towards a cup of water on the nightstand. “In the meantime, you need to drink some fluids. Sip it, though. Don’t gulp it down.”

He straightened the bed cover, smoothing it at her waist before giving her a warm smile. She lay completely still, a trembling husk of herself, the only thing moving were her eyes as she watched him effortlessly take care of her. She didn’t deserve this treatment. None of it. Shame swamped her and she felt dirty, panic squeezing at her throat as she feared what she may have done last night.

“How did you find me?” She asked, her voice hoarse.

“You sent me a message,” he replied, pausing to look down at her. “You were completely out of your mind on drink, and in a most notorious nightclub with dubious company. I came to get you immediately once it became apparent the state you were in.”

She didn’t miss the flicker of disapproval on his face, nor the underlying tone in his words. Her defences made an attempt to slam up, an overwhelming urge to squirm under his honey-brown eyes making her grit her teeth. That shame made heat creep up into her pale cheeks. She huffed and turned her head, covering up her embarrassment with irritation. “I sense a lecture incoming.”

“No, no lecture,” he said, moving towards the changing screen. “I’m sure the hangover is punishment enough. That, and having to face your friend, Rosier, again.”

She stiffened, her hand shifting awkwardly across her torso and up to her neck. She risked a glance in Leander's direction, but he was now filling the bathtub before the fireplace with a spell, a merry fire crackling in the hearth warming the room. She kept her silence, hating that she couldn’t remember. Alcohol was a wickedly terrible thing in its aftermath.

Disapproving he may be, but his hands and eyes remained kind as he assisted her out of bed and handed her a soft drying sheet. “Have a soak,” he urged, his touches respectful. “I’ll put some toast and tea on. I need to head into the office soon, but take all the time you need. You’re welcome here, as always.”

Remaining close lipped, she watched him leave the room, and it was only when he closed the door behind him that she allowed her shoulders to slump. Feeling desolate and foolish, she stripped and allowed her body to sink beneath the pleasantly warm bath water. Leaning back against the edge, her knees poking up out of the water, she closed her eyes and tried to think past the constant throb.

Surely, she wouldn’t have given herself to Rosier. He was pretty, yes, but he was also a scoundrel, and Sebastian’s friend. Groaning again, she rubbed her face. Sebastian was going to be pissed off. She had left in search of Anne, and would return empty handed after getting roaring drunk and potentially making a fool of herself. Not to mention spending another night in Leander’s bed.

Her gaze drifted towards the unmade bed. Had he slept beside her? Had they…? No. He wouldn’t have. Not with her so out of it. He was too much of a gentleman. Nevertheless, her hand drifted down between her thighs and she touched tentative fingers to herself. She didn’t feel sensitive, and there had been no physical residue of him finishing when she had removed her clothing. Him, or Rosier. She bit her lip, almost bringing herself to tears for having to try and figure this out. She shouldn’t have put herself in such a vulnerable situation. As if things were not complicated enough.

Sitting up, she took the bar of lavender soap and began to wash the stench of cigarettes and liquor from herself, scrubbing harder against her skin than normal as though she could erase her stupidity. She was soaping her hair when a knock sounded on the door. It opened a slither, but Leander didn’t come in.

“There is tea and toast on the table for you, or I could bring in a tray. I need to go to the Ministry. Can I fetch you anything else before I leave?”

Trying to think clearly, she cleared her throat. “You can come in,” she called, swiping suds from her forehead before crossing her arms across her breasts and bringing her knees up higher. The door swung wider.

He stepped cautiously through the door, his gaze falling to her and his cheeks instantly flushing. He averted his gaze and straightened his tie. “Oh, sorry, I er…I can go fetch the tray in. Give you a moment to be decent.”

She swallowed. “Nothing you haven't seen before. I was wondering if you could pass me the jug so I can rinse my hair,” she said softly.

“Oh! Well, of course,” he said, hurrying to fetch the porcelain jug and bringing it to her. He held it out and she met his gaze, a pang of something stabbing through her chest at the softness she saw there.

“Would you mind?” She indicated her hair and tipped her head back slightly. “You’re more likely to get all of the suds out if you do it.”

“As you wish,” he said, coming even closer. “Shuffle forward a bit.”

She did so, careful to maintain a little modesty, and he dipped the jug into the bath water. She closed her eyes as he placed his palm at her forehead, pouring the water gently over her hair before scooping up more. The action was soothing against her skull and she sighed as the water and suds slid down her back. If she opened her eyes and looked at him, she knew what she would see. Guilt tugged at her, shame for being so utterly selfish when it came to him. Feeling low like this, the need to have someone take care of her had her taking advantage of his kindness. It wasn’t fair, and she knew it. He wanted more from her, more than she could ever give. She should have left him alone, but she couldn’t. Not when he had the power to soothe the dark loneliness that harboured in her chest.

“You’re too kind, Leander Prewett,” she said, keeping her eyes closed.

He remained silent and tipped another jug load onto her head, his hand smoothing along her long locks, his touch grazing the skin of her back. She shivered and he pulled away, placing the jug on the hearth. “There, all done,” he said, keeping his gaze averted. “Hopefully you are feeling a bit better.”

She nodded, but the hollow chasm in her chest suggested otherwise. “I am, and that’s all thanks to you. I’m sorry to have been a burden on you, especially so soon after leaving the hospital. How are you feeling now?”

“All mended,” he said, drying his hands. His smile was tight. “How did you end up drunk in a club with Rosier? Where is Sebastian?”

“Recovering from a bad case of Crucio,” she said, staring into the bath water, holding herself tighter. “I left him with Ominis, and then I tried to find Anne.”

He turned to face her. “Crucio? Merlin’s bloody beard! Why? Did you find Anne? The Aurors are looking for her, too.”

Her lips trembled, the weight of it all pressing down upon her now that the effects of the alcohol had worn off. Drinking to forget was okay in the moment, but all the problems lay in wait, pouncing on you with renewed vigour when you were suffering from your own foolishness. Forgoing her modesty, she pressed her hands to her face, the swell of it all threatening to burst out of her, attempting to try and hold it all in and failing as a shuddering sob escaped. Leander had become someone who seemed to effortlessly pierce the barriers she erected around herself. How easy it had become to reveal things to him. It was trust, she realised. Looking up at his honey brown eyes finally, she knew she could tell him the truth.

“I found her,” she said, her voice wobbling. “But, gods, part of me wishes I hadn’t.”

“Hey, hey,” Leander soothed, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around her, soaking his perfectly lovely suit in the process. “You’re okay. It’s alright.”

Pressing her face into his chest, she let go of the barriers, tears leaking from her eyes. Everywhere she went, she walked a fine line. She had thought the oppressive walls of prison had been hard, but out here where she could walk in the sunlight, it seemed that the shadows lurked unseen, stealing the freedom and the warmth, leaving her uncertain and small despite the power that slumbered impatiently in her bones. Constantly on edge, she felt drained. Here, with him, felt like a safe harbour.

“I’m not sure anything will ever be alright again, Lee,” she said, her voice thin. “Getting out of Azkaban has been harder than I expected. The whole world either hates me, or wants me for my power. I don’t know if I can do this. Anne said I would destroy anyone who got too close to me. What if she was right? I’m a freak, Lee. Nobody should have this much power, especially me. Maybe Azkaban is the best place for me, shut away in the dark where I won’t be able to hurt anyone.”

“Don’t you ever say that,” he said firmly, lifting her chin to look down at her. He shook his head, his eyes pained. “You did not belong there, MC, and you are most definitely not a freak. Don’t ever think you are not good enough.”

She wished she could believe that, but her strength and self belief seemed to have melted into the bath water with the soap and grime. “You need to remove your rose tinted glasses, Lee.”

“No, you need to get back that fighting spirit I know you have in there,” he said, his hand gripping her jaw, his eyes determined. Whilst his hold was firm, the sweep of his thumb was delicate. “The MC I know and remember, is the girl who spent hours of her free time practising how to roll her balls perfectly across the Summoners Court board, despite saying the game was ridiculous. You hated to lose, and sought me out to show you my tricks so you could beat everyone at it, including me.”

“You let me win,” she accused, her hungover brain fog sorting through memories to a time that felt so far out of reach now. Sunny days in the grounds of Hogwarts, laughter, friendship, and all despite the burden of her trials and the goblin rebellion.

He huffed in amusement, his eyes so warm. “I did not. Maybe to start with because I wanted you to like me, but then when things got really competitive, my thirst to win got the better of me. You still beat me, though, fair and square. I think that enforced the massive crush I had on you.”

“You still have a crush on me, Prewett, whence the rose tinted glasses,” she said, the hint of a smile ghosting across her lips.

“We both know it is more than a crush at this point,” he murmured, a flicker of sadness darkening his gaze. “Somehow, we have become tangled up in something that defies explanation. I know you don’t feel the same way I do, and yet, we seem to end up in situations like this. I don’t think I could ever deny you, no matter how much it may hurt me.”

Her eyes burned and her throat felt thick as she swallowed. The twist of pain in her chest robbed her of breath momentarily as she stared at him. Safety, warmth, trust, stability. It was all right there in front of her, if she could but reach for it and take it for her own. But, it would be wrong.

“I’m not being fair to you,” she said, the truth of it searing her throat. “I know how you feel, and yet I come here and take from you when in truth, I should do the right thing and let you go. I’m dangerous. People get hurt, or die around me. I would never forgive myself if…”

Choking on the words, the terror of imagining Death stealing him away because of her darkness making her clutch at his soaked waistcoat, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to shove the image away. She felt his forehead press to hers, the warmth of him radiating over her rapidly cooling skin.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he vowed, his breath ghosting across her cheek. “Even if you can’t return it, you have my affections.”

“No, you shouldn’t do that. You need to live your life,” she insisted, and yet she wasn��t letting him go, her hands still clinging to him. “You don’t deserve to live under my shadow.”

“You have to stop trying to push people away who care about you,” he said, releasing his hold on her jaw. His hand lingered though, his long fingers grazing her neck. “You don’t have to fight all of this on your own. People care about you, MC, and that is not something you can control. Let them help you.”

He glanced away, hesitating, his teeth worrying at his lower lip. “There’s something I need to tell you, something important.”

She immediately went rigid, her body instantly expecting the worst. “What is it?”

“While I was in the hospital, I had a visitor,” he said, eyeing her carefully. “A woman dressed as a nurse, but that’s not who she really was. I think she came to get a closer look at me, to make some kind of contact, because she had clearly been watching us from a distance.”

“Us?” MC frowned, her thoughts ticking rapidly. Then, the memory of the robed woman following her down the corridor that day flashed behind her eyes. Her heart quickened, the feeling of threat increasing. What new danger was this? “Someone followed me from your room that day, but they vanished. I think it was a woman.”

His hand cupped her face. “Don’t panic,” he soothed. “She spoke to me, and her intent was not to harm. It was your birth mother. Elizabeth Gaunt. She looked me right in the eye and asked me to take care of you.”

If she hadn’t been clinging to him, she feared she may have drifted through the bath water, a strange feeling of weightlessness sweeping over her that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of alcohol in her system. “My…my mother?”

“I know you’ve had a lot thrown at you lately, but this could be a good thing. MC, she looked just like you. She seemed to care about your safety.”

“Not enough to speak with me herself,” she said, her blood pulsing so fast she felt faint. “I don’t understand. What else did she say?”

“She called Rookwood a stain on this earth,” he said, his thumb still stroking her cheek. “She said she had done her research on me, and she knew who you were. I get the impression she has been watching us for a while.”

MC couldn’t pin down how she felt about this, the confusion seeming to blend with an elation that her mother had found her, but there was also a pain. Why hadn’t she approached her sooner? Why hadn’t she come to help her? Instead, she had lingered in the shadows just watching. She shivered, the bath water now chilled, weary from the night before and yet more emotional webs to fight through.

“Are you alright?” Leander’s eyes were concerned, his touch gentle.

“I…I need to think,” she said, glancing down at herself. “I ought to put some clothes on, too.”

“Of course,” he nodded, a blush sweeping across his cheeks. He withdrew from her, extracting the remaining warmth that left her shivering. She wrapped her arms around herself as he gathered up the drying sheet and held it up, his face turned respectfully away. “Here, get yourself dry and warm. Your clothes are behind the changing screen.”

She stood, water dripping from her body as she stepped out of the tub and into the waiting drying sheet. Her eyes burned with tears, her shivering not only from the chill as he wrapped the sheet around her. His simple acts of taking care of her seemed to strip away everything, leaving her raw and vulnerable. Her inner child craved it with a fierceness that made her ache, whilst the icy walls she had crafted shook on their foundations, but she remained rigid and silent.

It was only once he had left the room, closing the door quietly behind him that she allowed the tears to properly fall again. They tracked down her cheeks as she forced her hands to move, drying herself down and dressing. It made her heart squeeze even more when she found her clothes, clean and neatly folded on the chair. He thought of everything, and it made the wretchedness twist all the sharper.

Fastening her wand holster to her thigh, she took a deep breath. Her head throbbed, but she had to resist wallowing in her own self pity. She wouldn’t find answers that way. Avoiding thoughts of having to face Sebastian, she braced herself to eat something and tackle the mystery of her roots. Today, she would make an effort to find out.

Sebastian

His stomach growled in protest, hunger making him feel even more irritated than his circumstances could claim credit for as he stalked through Knockturn Alley. He was cold and damp after travelling through various known locations in the Highlands looking for the Ashwinder camp, but turning up nothing. It wasn’t unusual for the camp to move around, especially when the threat of discovery was higher, but they had clearly located somewhere he couldn’t recall, or knew nothing about. It irked him, no closer to finding Anne or MC, and nobody to hex into talking. So, he had returned to London in the hopes of gleaning some answers.

The morning saw the slightly more respectable folk moving through the Alley, and that wasn’t saying much. These folk would still likely stab you in the back than wish you a merry morning. At least there was a pale gleam of sunlight rather than the misty rain of Scotland that still had his robe clinging uncomfortably to his legs. Stopping at a tea shop that passed his standards to an acceptable level, he purchased a cinnamon bun and mug of tea to stave off the hunger pangs. He ate quickly, almost scalding his tongue as he gulped his tea. Time was pressing. Casting a swift drying charm on his clothes, he left the tea shop and made his way towards the Black Rose.

Using the rear entrance, he avoided the exclusive back room and made his way up the stairs. The whore’s rooms were silent at this hour, the girls getting their heads down to sleep before they would be up and selling their wares later in the day. The stairs creaked under his boots, and he kept his steps light as he made his way to the room he shared with Rosier. He had not slept here in a while, but he hoped Rosier would still be crashing here.

Entering quietly, he saw the spread eagled form of his partner in crime snoring softly on his bed, his boots discarded haphazardly on the floorboards, his robe slung over the bed frame. He reeked of whiskey and perfume, and a match booklet on the floor near his boots told Sebastian that he had spent the evening getting blootered in The Alyssum club.

Rolling his eyes at Rosier’s insatiable appetite for booze and women, Sebastian sat down on the edge of his own made bed and pushed his hands through his hair as he eyed the snoring man. Waking Rosier after a heavy session was always a challenge, but he needed to ask him what he knew about Anne.

The beds were placed fairly close together in the confines of the room, and he placed his booted foot against the frame of Rosier’s and gave it a few sharp shoves. It rocked and creaked, but Rosier snored on. Sighing again, Sebastian stood and poked at his arm, shaking his shoulder firmly. “Hey, swizzler, wake up!”

Rosier groaned and made a pathetic attempt to swipe Sebastian’s hand away, but Sebastian wasn’t about to give up. Grasping both of Rosier’s shoulders, he shook him hard. “Wake up, you damned fool!”

Rosier opened his eyes, blinking blearily. There was one particular skill that you needed to hone as an Ashwinder, and that was the ability to shake yourself out of a stupor if trouble came calling, which was highly likely when you were in this trade. Rosier clapped eyes on Sebastian and immediately became alert, an edge of panic lighting his eyes as he held both hands up, spluttering.

“Woah, easy, mate. Easy! I never touched her, I kept my promise, I swear! I kept it in my pants, just like you said.”

Sebastian frowned down at him, the muscles in his stomach tensing. “What are you talking about?” He asked slowly.

Rosier stared up at him, stubble darkening his chin and his eyes bloodshot from booze. “Ah, shit,” he groaned, wincing. He eyed Sebastian warily. “Is MC not with you? Maybe they haven’t released her from the lock up yet.”

Sebastian’s mouth tightened and he grabbed the front of Rosier’s rumpled shirt. “What do you mean the lock up? What the fuck are you talking about? Answers, Rosier. Now!”

“Okay, okay,” Rosier nodded quickly, still holding up both hands. “Merlin’s balls, I told her you’d be pissed off, but she kept downing the gins like a trooper. I get why you like her, Sallow. MC’s got spirit.”

“She got drunk with you?” Sebastian was incredulous, letting Rosier go and straightening up, his gaze catching the match booklet on the floor again. He bent to retrieve it, holding it up. “You took her here?”

Rosier nodded. “She got all sad after talking with your sister, and asked me to take her somewhere fun.”

Sebastian’s eyes bulged, his fist crushing the match booklet into a crumpled mess. He had been searching all of Scotland for MC, and she had been necking gin with Rosier all night. A flash of fury lit his blood, but he remained calm. He had been looking for answers, and by gods he was going to get some.

“She spoke to Anne?” He asked through gritted teeth. “You’d better start from the beginning, Rosier, and tell me everything.”

Leander

The tall stacks of files and books loomed over them, the weight of history adding to the silence of the Ministry archives as Andrew spread out his findings on the table top. The lamp light shone off Andrew’s fair hair, his gaze flitting nervously towards MC as she leaned over the documents, her face a pale, closed mask as she pulled one of the parchments closer toward her. She had been quiet since they had left Leander’s flat, insisting she wanted to accompany him here despite the hangover she was suffering through.

He had kept an eye on her as Harrington quizzed her over Anne, sending two Aurors to Hogsmeade to investigate the abandoned house overlooking the cemetery on her word that Anne was being held there. Her duty to her probation met, Leander had whisked MC into the archives to meet with Andrew, the questions that lay heavy in her eyes demanded answers, and she was determined to dig them out.

Whatever weakness she had succumbed to in the bathtub seemed to be under control now, the familiar grit and strength visible in the set of her jaw as she read the parchment. As much as Leander was glad to see her being her strong self, he couldn’t help but ache at the vulnerability she had displayed to him. There had been something in her eyes, in the way she had clung to him, that made him believe she felt something for him. If only she would bend to it. If only she could love him as he loved her.

“You said there were more of these letters from Mrs Sallow?” She asked, her gaze lifting to Andrew as she put the parchment back down.

Andrew nodded and sifted through the papers, handing her another. “These are only the ones I could get my hands on. Each letter requesting access to the Department of Mysteries and being denied. There is also this ledger, which notes a few visits to the archives by Mrs Sallow, accompanied by Miriam Fig. They were definitely researching something together, and the symbol on the final letter matches the one you drew for Lee.”

MC nodded, her face drawing into a frown of concentration. “Anne was telling me the truth,” she mused. “The Sallows knew about ancient magic. Do you know if they were ever successful in gaining entry to the Department of Mysteries?”

Andrew shook his head. “That’s where my jurisdiction ends I’m afraid. Anything the department holds on ancient magic, or this Circle of Avalon, is kept firmly behind closed doors. If I can’t be given access, then I am fairly confident that Mrs Sallow and Mrs Fig were never granted permission either. What goes on behind those doors is a closely guarded secret.”

Leander pulled a book closer, his eyes scanning the page Andrew had opened it up to. The symbol for the Circle of Avalon was there at the top, along with mention of witch trials in Muggle courts, the charges of dark sacrifices making him wince. Magic and muggles had a troubled history, both sides telling the stories very differently, but the dark arts were nothing to be dismissed. They existed, and magical folk were known to practise it. It kept the Auror Office viable. Even humans with the deeper wisdom of magic could be fools when it came to power and the abuse of it.

“Do you think this Circle is dangerous?” He asked, turning the page to see an ink illustration of women hanging from nooses on a scaffold.

“I can’t believe Miriam Fig was involved in anything dark,” MC said, shaking her head. “Which in turn means that Mrs Sallow was of like mind.”

“Sebastian finds it easy enough to dabble in the arts,” Leander muttered.

She stiffened, her chin lifting. “He had his reasons.”

Their eyes locked across the table, none of the vulnerability showing in her eyes now. She would always defend Sallow, even when it was him she came to when she needed help, it would always be Sebastian who laid claim to her. There lay the real reason she held herself back from him. Caught in his web, all the time Sallow pulled his strings, she would bend to his whims. Leander figured he would always feel bitter about it, feeling as though any chance he may have of being able to love her fully would always drown under the bond those two had.

Dropping his gaze to the book, he turned it to face her, forcing his thoughts to remain focused on the matter at hand. “I don’t know how well read you are concerning muggle witch trials, but until fairly recently these trials were held regularly up and down the country. Our kind were hunted out and executed. Most were innocent, but some did practise the dark arts. Aurors tried to keep a certain amount of control over our own, but Parliament ignored any pleas the Minister may have made about keeping our own justice.”

“I have read some of the history, and being raised around muggles, you hear the stories,” she said, her gaze dropping to the illustration of the hangings.

Leander tapped a finger to the text beside the drawing. “This was a high profile case in both the magical and muggle world. The Pendle Witches.”

“I’ve heard of them,” she said quietly, her throat working as he moved his finger to the symbol drawn on the bottom of the page. She brushed back some loose strands of hair and sighed. “Just because the symbol is there, does not prove that this Circle is made of dark witches and wizards. We don’t have enough evidence.”

“You found out about this Circle from Gaunt family journals, right?” Andrew asked carefully. “It’s not too much of a stretch to consider the possibility that dark arts could be involved.”

“Not all Gaunts are evil,” she bristled, the taut expression on her face making her appear even more pale and drawn. Andrew flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. She shook her head, her mouth a tight line. “Regardless of the true nature of this Circle of Avalon, they have ties to ancient magic, and I need to know more. Miriam Fig believed in the good that ancient magic could do, I refuse to believe she would meddle with dark arts, and it would seem that her and Sebastian’s mother were friends. Both of these women were killed researching all of this, and I want to finish what they started. I need to do it.”

“I’m not sure how much more I can dig out of here,” Andrew said, the regret plain on his face. “I have to admit, I am also intrigued to learn more. The history and lore surrounding your abilities is fascinating. In the pursuit of knowledge, I can understand the tenacity that a Ravenclaw such as Mrs Sallow would possess, despite the risks.”

“Someone was determined to silence them, perhaps going to the extremes of killing them both,” MC said bitterly. “Such a waste. If only we knew who would go to such lengths.”

“Not to mention the lengths that higher ups are prepared to go through in order to keep information hidden here, too,” Leander said, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “You can't help but wonder what it is they are hiding. Where else can we look?”

MC sighed and put her hands to her head, staring at all the information Andrew had found, and yet it only raised more questions. “Most of the people who know about this are either sworn to secrecy, or they are dead,” she said, lifting her gaze to Leander again. “There are some people I can speak to via their portraits who know quite a lot about ancient magic, especially Professor Rackham. He was a Seer. I would bet a few galleons he has heard about the Circle of Avalon. How did you fare in getting me access to Hogwarts, Lee?”

“We just need to make Professor Black aware when we intend to pay a visit,” Leander said, touching his hand to his tie.

“How about today?” The determination on her face told him she wasn’t expecting a refusal.

“I shall send the owl,” he replied with a nod.

A nostalgic look crossed Andrew’s face as he glanced between them. “Returning to Hogwarts,” he said softly. “I can only imagine walking those halls again.”

“I used to think the same when the Aurors hauled me away to Azkaban,” MC said bitterly, a darkness lingering on her face as she touched her fingers to the prisoner tattoo on her neck. “It will be strange to enter there as a convicted criminal. I’m sure Professor Black will have a few choice words to say on the matter.”

“Well, you won’t be going alone,” Leander said firmly. “I will be right there beside you, and no matter what the headmaster has to say on the matter, he need only know that we are there on important Ministry business. Anything else is between you and these Keepers.”

The look she gave him still had the shadow of those cold walls she held about herself, but the faintest glimmer of the vulnerability she allowed him to see lingered in the depths of her sky blue gaze. He hoped she could see the truth in his eyes, the words he left unspoken in front of their old school chum. He had meant what he had said to her back in his flat. There wasn’t a lot he would deny her, no matter the cost. It was both inevitable and terrifying, but that was the depth he had fallen to.

“Well, I wish you luck in your pursuit of truth,” Andrew said, giving Leander a pointed look as he continued. “Just be careful. Clearly, this kind of research is a risk.”

“Don’t worry, Andrew. If anyone dares to try and stop us, they will have me to contend with,” MC said firmly. Avoiding any further eye contact with Leander, she gestured to the letters written in Mrs Sallow’s hand. “May I take copies of these?”

“I already prepared you some, along with the excerpts from the texts,” Andrew said, slipping a file from the pile and handing it over to her.

Her smile was genuine, stripping away the shadows in her eyes and highlighting the beauty she possessed. Combined with her next words, it brought a pink flush to Andrew’s cheeks.

“You are a star, Larson. Thank you.”

As they exited the Ministry, MC was quiet, her face resolute. Walking the street in search of a secluded spot to Apparate, her eyes were everywhere. Leander took note of the finely dressed ladies and gentleman going about their business, listening to the rumble of a carriage rolling over the paved road, certain they were both looking for the same thing. A woman in a robe. Knowing that you were being watched gave one a strange feeling, like delicate fingers touching the back of the neck. Every face became suspicious.

“Will your partner not be accompanying us?” MC asked as they entered a narrow alleyway. The sunlight barely reached the rough ground here, the brick walls towering upwards.

Leander had allowed Montgomery in on a few details to do with MC, agreeing to let her assist, but he still clung to the feeling that this was his responsibility. As they paused, turning to face each other, he couldn’t help the jealous need to have MC all to himself. He already had to share her with Sallow, and his greed burned hot in his belly. Shameful, yes, but hard to deny.

“No, it will just be us,” he said, holding out his hands to her. “Is that alright?”

She stared at him for the longest time, her eyes guarded. Then, she nodded, her hands taking hold of his. She felt cold, and his thumbs instinctively caressed against her skin as he offered her a reassuring smile.

“Take us back to Hogwarts,” she said, her voice low and hoarse.

Tightening his hold on her hands, he envisioned the sweep of Hogwarts Valley, the winding road that led towards the castle, and the great pillars of the entrance topped with hogs. London vanished around them, the sharp pull behind his navel making him grunt as they travelled hundreds of miles in the blink of an eye, landing in a much chillier and fog shrouded Scotland.

Reluctantly releasing her hands, they both turned to gaze across to the great castle reaching towards the sky through the fog. The surrounding trees still clung to the last remnants of their red and golden crowns, the ground carpeted with the autumn fall. The air was fresh, clean, more wholesome than the rotten smog of the city. As they began to walk, side by side, Leander felt that familiar comfort stealing over him, a feeling that only the magic of this place could create.

“It never fails does it,” he murmured, the hint of a smile touching his lips as he gazed towards Hogwarts.

She slowly shook her head, her own memories shifting in her eyes. “Of all the places I’ve ever laid my head, this one felt the safest, the most like home,” she said. “I’ve yet to find anywhere quite like it. Perhaps the closest I ever came to feeling protected was your cottage by the sea. That held the same kind of warmth.”

His smile widened. “I’m glad it could be a safe harbour for you.”

“I think it may have had something to do with the company,” she said, the barest hint of a smirk appearing as she glanced up at him. She took a few more steps, her face turning more solemn again. “I don’t deserve it, you know, the kindness you give me. I will only hurt you in the end, and it’s the last thing I want for you.”

“Neither of us know what lies before us, anything could happen,” he said, feeling the torn chasm inside of him give way a little more as she tried to push him back. “Like I said this morning, let people help you. You don’t have to be alone, and I choose to stand beside you like this.”

“Just don’t be afraid to walk away when you have to,” she said, her gaze averted. “That day will come, and I won’t blame you.”

As they walked closer towards Hogwarts, he considered the differences in their childhoods. He had the comfort and benefits of a family in his background, a stability that allowed him to grow into the man he had become. For her, she had faced everything alone, and anyone who came close either left her or died. He could understand her natural reaction to isolate herself behind her icy walls, pushing away those who could just as easily leave like all the others. Even Sebastian.

Despite the blood bond she had made with him, she had not run to him when things had crumbled last night. Even today, she had not been desperate to run back to him. For all his worries about her choosing Sebastian over him, he considered the possibility that she would just vanish and leave all of them behind, choosing neither of them. It made him shiver, the fear of her slipping away to some place he couldn’t reach her, alone and lost in her own darkness.

“Promise me something,” he said, pausing before the entrance to the castle grounds, the fog curling up from the lake to drift around their feet. He touched a hand to her sleeve, almost as though to prevent her from blending into the mist and fading from his view. “If you ever make the decision to leave, don’t go without saying goodbye to me. Don’t just disappear on me, okay? I couldn’t bear it.”

Her eyes darkened with that vulnerability and she swallowed hard. “Trust me, Lee. You are one of the few people in this world I care enough about to make that promise easily. As much as the thought of saying goodbye makes me want to choke, I would do that for you. I won’t just disappear, I promise, and if I do, then know it wasn’t by my own choice.”

“You know I would look for you in that instance.”

She met his gaze, the shadow of a smile on her lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, and just so you know, I would do the same if the situation was reversed. You’re my Auror. I still haven’t forgiven that bitch, Luella, for nearly killing you in those tunnels. I won’t forget either.”

He blushed, seeing the way her eyes narrowed with her intent, warmth swelling inside of him at her words. “I’m your Auror?” He smirked, his chest pushing out a little.

“Of course, you dragged me from the maw of darkness and removed my chains. You saved me, and continue to do so despite my unworthiness. You’re my Auror,” she said, reaching to adjust his tie and smooth her hands over the shoulders of his robe. “Now, escort your wayward prisoner into the castle, Auror Prewett. Our old headmaster awaits.”

“You are not my prisoner,” he reminded her softly.

But, maybe he was hers. She made it so easy to love her, it drove him crazy that she couldn’t be his.

“Yes, well, I have a feeling Professor Black may not see it that way,” she sighed, taking his hand and placing it on her upper arm before surrendering her wand towards him. “Escort me as though you have this under control. I’m dangerous. I know it, and they know it. Make them feel safe whilst I walk the halls.”

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, his heart breaking a little as he stared at her wand. “You saved this school, remember?”

“When you do bad things, people forget what came before,” she said, her eyes sad, but knowing. “They only remember the wrong that you did, and as far as anyone is concerned, I killed people. I killed an Auror, and the mark on my neck is a reminder to all of what I am capable of.”

“You are more than that, MC, and you know it,” he said, reluctantly taking her wand and tucking it safely away with his own.

“You really are determined to see me through those rose tinted glasses, aren’t you? I should admire your unshakable faith in me, even if it is misplaced.”

“Do you have faith in me?” He countered.

She stared at him. “Yes, I do.”

Those three little words meant more to him than she would ever know. All his life he had strived to be someone capable, someone who lived up to the traits of his Gryffindor house. Becoming an Auror had instilled some confidence into him, but to have someone as rare and beautiful as her believe in him filled with him a warmth that could almost move him to tears. Unable to find words to express it, his hand gave her arm a squeeze, his throat choked up as he bent to press a kiss to her forehead. She was still staring at him, and he fought the desire to press another kiss to her lips.

Managing a smile, he nodded towards the school, clearing his throat and dragging back his focus on their reason for being here. “Come on, let’s see if we can get some answers for you.”

Sebastian

The early hour probably meant it wasn’t wise to hit the bottle, but his fury seethed in burning coils and he needed to drown it out, suffocate it before he did something really stupid. He poured the whiskey into a glass on the bar top, having secured a bottle for himself after storming from the room upstairs. He flexed his hand, the knuckles smarting slightly after he had slammed his fist into Rosier’s jaw. His temper had got the better of him, and Rosier hadn’t thrown any punches back. He’d merely tackled Sebastian down onto the bed, apologising for getting MC drunk, apologising for letting her be taken away by an Auror.

Not just any Auror, either. Fucking Prewett. Which meant that she wasn’t thrown into the Auror lock up for the night, and more likely tucked away somewhere cosy with that fucking smug git.

His fury surged and he threw his glass back again, the whiskey burning a trail down his throat and settling into the tense pit of his stomach. She had been gone all night, and still no sign of her this morning. She had to be with him.

He had thought they had been getting somewhere, they had been growing closer, he had been winning her back to him. Why hadn’t she come to him? Why stay with Rosier and drink herself into such a state? Surely, Anne had not got to her so deeply. His sister could spit venom, he knew that first hand, but MC was made of tougher stuff than she looked. What could Anne have said to her to make her stay away like this? Why did MC leave Anne to the mercy of the Ashwinders rather than bring her home?

Fear fed his fury. Nothing was ever simple. He threw another mouthful of whiskey into his throat and winced at the burn, his eyes dark with his thoughts as he glared into the glass. Just like his uncle, he hoped to see the answers in the bottom, but they would never show up. Self loathing dripped through his veins. Just like his uncle, he had resorted to using his fists because he had been displeased, hitting one of the few people he could call a mate.

“Fuck this shit,” he groaned, leaning his elbows on the bar and pushing his hands into his hair.

“Life givin’ you a kickin’, Sallow?”

Sebastian glanced up, the hardened face of Jez, the barkeep, stared down at him. He was a tall bloke, thin, all angles and boney joints, with a long pale face and dark eyes. He might look like a breeze could blow him away, but he took no prisoners when it came to trouble in the bar, his spider leg fingers possessing an iron grip that bit into flesh as he hauled you out on your backside for daring to mess up his bar.

“You could say that,” he huffed, pouring a fresh measure into his glass.

Jez eyed the bottle. “You plan on emptying that today?”

The bottle remained half full, or half empty, depending on one’s mindset, and Sebastian figured today was a half empty kind of day. He shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, grimacing.

Jez shook his head. “Either Rookwood has put the boot in, or it’s a damned woman,” he guessed, his black eyes narrowing. “Did daddy find out you were giving his baby girl the blanket hornpipe?”

“No,” Sebastian scowled, roughly pushing his hair back. “That’s long over, and best forgotten. It’s family business…private.”

He fixed Jez with a meaningful look, not wanting to unburden his fucked up life to someone who would likely whisper into another’s ear. Jez arched one ebony black eyebrow as he folded his tea towel, draping it over his scrawny shoulder.

“If you say so, lad. But, I’m watching you. Any trouble, and you and the pretty boy are out. Don’t care who pays the room rate,” he warned.

Sick of these arseholes dictating what he could and couldn’t do, he dug into his pocket and pulled out some coins, slamming enough down onto the bar top to cover the cost of the whiskey. “I’ll save you the trouble of evicting me, Jez,” he growled, slipping from the bar seat and draining the remaining contents of his glass. “See you around.”

The London air felt thick and heavy, the lingering smog clinging to the stench of the city and carrying a chill that made Sebastian turn his collar up as he strode through Knockturn Alley. Ignoring all he passed, he made it to Diagon Alley before he felt a strange sensation on the back of his neck, turning to glance over his shoulder, his gaze taking in the wizards and witches moving about their day. Nothing seemed out of place, but the creeping sensation of being watched stayed with him as he headed further down the cobbled street.

The whiskey burned in his belly, his frustration and anger still sizzling in his veins. He sifted through his thoughts, wondering who might be persuaded to give up Prewett’s address. He had to live in the city somewhere, close to the Ministry, close to his happy, little circle of friends. Nice, dependable, Prewett, with the good job, outstanding moral fibre, and the smug ability to offer MC something that Sebastian couldn’t ever imagine possessing.

A safe, real home.

Sebastian blinked, the backs of his eyes actually stinging. He rubbed at them, pausing a moment to lean against a brick wall. He refused to cry, sucking back his emotions and pressing them deep, he took some steadying breaths and turned his attention to a family gathered outside a nearby shop.

The little girl was pleading for her parents to let her have a cat, pointing excitedly at a basket of kittens in the window. He could see the way the mother doted over the girl, stroking her hair affectionately as the father explained that the time for a familiar would come when she left for Hogwarts. Sebastian’s attention shifted to the boy, older than the girl, his face more serious as he listened to his father, nodding in agreement, his gaze filled with the admiration and respect that came from a loyal son.

The twist of pain in his chest made Sebastian gulp, and he turned his head away from the loving family, feeling the black emptiness in his chest swallow up whatever warmth the whiskey had given to him. The barren wasteland of life felt expansive and cold, gripping at him with long fingers and dragging him ruthlessly through the hard grit, and him helpless to stop it. The shadowy wraiths of guilt and shame mocked him, tangling up with the tempting devil that made him want to hurt, destroy, obliterate. He clenched his hands, the desire to choke the life out of something making beads of sweat stand out on his forehead.

Everything was so fucked up, and he needed someone to blame. He needed to lash out, rip everything away and make it all stop. He just wanted the pain to stop.

As he tried to calm his racing pulse, his breathing quick and shallow, his gaze caught on the slender form of a robed figure standing in a shadowed corner, watching him. The hood was too low to make out a face, but he assumed it was a woman. Then her head tilted, and he caught a glimpse of ebony hair, pale skin.

“MC?” He whispered it, like a prayer.

She turned, melting away into the narrow passageway that led between two shops, her pale, grey robe billowing out behind her. No, it couldn’t be her. It wouldn’t make sense. Would it? This could be a trap.

If anyone asked him, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them why he pushed himself away from the wall and crossed the street to follow her. His booted feet carried him forward, his heart and mind still racing, but cold curiosity won out.

The alley was winding, the paved walk tidy and not unpleasant compared to those found in the muggle streets. He caught a flicker of her robe as she turned up ahead, and his pace quickened. He rounded the bend and stopped in a courtyard with two exits. He glanced between the two, uncertain, and then she appeared in one. He caught the flash of a pale cheek, maybe a glimpse of a satisfied smile, before she backed away.

“Wait,” he muttered, feeling slightly foolish now as he hurried across the courtyard after her.

Through more alleyways, he followed her, unable to give up despite the creeping certainty that this was not MC. At last they came out into a London street, the buildings fine and arranged in a courtyard around a garden surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The robed woman entered the garden through a gate, drifting through a carpet of leaves as she passed under the trees.

Sebastian caught up to her under a canopy of gold and red, where she stood waiting. She turned, her hands lifting to draw back the hood that obscured her face. He slowed to a stop, staring as her face was revealed. He sucked in a breath, eyes wide. She was older than he had first thought, strands of white showing through the ebony of her hair, but her face could not be mistaken. He thought of the portrait hanging in Noctua’s house, the girl standing with her Gaunt siblings, his eyes drinking in the shape of this woman’s nose and mouth.

“You are not MC,” he said softly, taking a tentative step forward.

Her smile was soft, her blue eyes drenched with knowing confidence. “No, I am not,” she said, her voice low and gentle. She studied him, her tilting slightly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sebastian.”

“You know my name,” he said, his gaze narrowing, feeling on edge. “You wanted me to follow you.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for quite some time, Mr Sallow. You intrigue me,” she said, completely calm. “You are dangerous. I’ve watched you duel in the underground pit, I know the company you keep, but there must be more beneath all the darkness. I think there are layers to you, a softness beneath the strength you portray to the world.”

Wariness crept over him, his hand hovering at his wand holster as he instinctively began to settle into a stance ready for a duel. “You have been watching me. Why?”

“I want to know what she is drawn to, what she has found behind your tendencies for darkness,” she replied. “I’m going to assume you know who I am, Sebastian. You are so very close to my nephew, so close that you are, in fact, family now. Your sister is a Gaunt, and in the hands of the enemy.”

“You seem to be rather well informed, Elizabeth,” he said, keeping his focus, not ready to trust her yet. She had a way of holding her head that reminded him of Marvolo, her utter calm not fooling him in the slightest. “Don’t tell me you are concerned for my sister’s welfare, or that of Ominis. If you were that fond of him, you would be present in his life. Ominis believed you to be dead until MC discovered otherwise.”

She bowed her head slightly. “You are right, of course. I did abandon my blood roots, but I had my reasons, Sebastian. Good ones. But, blood has a habit of calling you back. I know MC has a Ministry man delving into the archives on her behalf. In fact, she was there this morning with that lovely, young Auror with the red hair.”

Sebastian stilled, catching the curious look in her eyes as she watched for his reaction. So, MC really was with Prewett, just as he had suspected. It felt like a kick to the gut knowing she was chasing this research without him.

“How do you know that?” He asked, a hint of ice in his tone.

“Portraits have eyes and ears, Sebastian. It’s just a case of knowing which ones to speak to,” she smiled.

Elizabeth Gaunt was proving clever, resourceful, and she clearly had the upper hand here. A true descendant of Slytherin. Knowledge was power, he knew that better than most. The question here remained unanswered, and he maintained his wary stance, his fingers itching to hold his wand.

“What is it you want with me?” He asked. “You clearly wanted me to follow you here.”

“What do you know about the Circle of Avalon, Sebastian?”

He frowned thoughtfully, his mind sifting through the vast stores of information he accumulated over his years of reading. “From what I can recall, they are connected to the arts of dark sacrifices. I believe they have roots in paganism, and the study of magical beasts, but this is mostly conjecture by historians.”

“Oh, very good, Sebastian,” she smiled, her eyes lit with warmth for the first time since he had seen them. “I heard that you were a smart boy, very well read and curious. I’m pleased to find this an accurate description. How curious are you, though? History is always written by the winners, by hands that want people to read what they deem more appropriate to keep the sheep in line. Would you like to know the truth behind the written word, Sebastian? Are you curious enough to come with me? I can show you.”

“Why should I trust you?” He asked, remaining firm.

“Because you love her, don’t you?”

For the first time, he saw a true softness in her gaze before she dipped it. Her feet moved gracefully over the fallen leaves, her robe shifting smoothly as she came to stand right before him. Her resemblance to MC was unmistakable and it was jarring. Her eyes had the same blue hue, but there was a different kind of strength in these depths, and a confidence, a woman who knew herself.

“For years, I believed that my daughter was dead,” she said, speaking softly, a mother’s loss shadowing her gaze for a moment. “I handed her over to the Auror who found us. I was all alone in the world, my husband murdered, my family estranged from me, and my precious girl was the only thing that held me together, but I put her innocent life in the hands of an Auror. I did what I had to do to save her. He took her away, and I never saw her again.”

“You…you gave her to Solomon?” Sebastian stared at her, goosebumps spreading up his arms.

“Yes,” she said, her gaze hardening. “I gave my daughter over to your uncle. Then my despicable brother found me, punished me with his wand and fists, and took great pleasure in telling me that my filthy blooded daughter was dead. I believed him, grieved for the loss of a child born out of nothing but love, until I saw the photograph of a girl who had stopped a goblin rebellion in the Daily Prophet, a most unusually gifted student of Hogwarts. She looked just like my grandmother, like me, and I knew in my veins that she was mine before I even had to read her name. She was a Brierley, she was the right age, and I needed to know more. But, then she was taken in for murder before I could get close, and it was a different kind of photograph on the front page of the Prophet. My daughter, my child, a murderer, and who did she kill but the very same man who took her from my arms all those years ago. Fate can be a dangerous game, but also a fascinating one.”

Her smile was sinister. Sebastian held his tongue knowing full well that MC did no such thing, that it was he who had murdered Solomon.

“Knowing what I do now, that son of a bitch deserved what he got,” she said icily. “My sisters put me on a path that led to true discovery, and I have your mother to thank for it.”

Sebastian’s gasp slipped out before he could even think about holding onto his restraint, his face paling, and his eyes widening in shock. “My mother?”

“Your mother was one of life’s rare and wonderful witches,” Elizabeth said. “She was a great loss to the world, and I miss her, as I am sure you do, too. She spoke of you and your sister often. Know she loved you, that her pursuit for truth was fuelled by her desire to give you and Anne a world worth living in.”

“You knew her?” He said, his voice breaking, his grief shifting under the weight of her words.

Elizabeth nodded. “I knew her well. We attended Hogwarts together, and she found me later when I was wretched with my grief. But, the Circle helped us. When I discovered that MC had become close to you, it was as though the stars had aligned just so in order for you two to meet. Our lives seem to be fated to blend, our paths meeting at a crossroads, and should we leave that path, we will always find our way back to it.”

She reached out carefully, her cool fingers grasping his left hand and turning it over. They both looked down as she smoothed her touch over the vivid red line seared into his palm. “You bound yourself to her,” she whispered. “Blood bonds are strong, Sebastian. Family bonds, magical bonds, and the fiery burn of desire and love. Such bonds carry their own magical weight. How strong is your connection to my daughter?”

“I would die for her,” he said immediately, his gaze lifting to meet the intensity of hers. “She is everything to me.”

She studied him carefully, then nodded, keeping hold of his hand. “Well, let’s hope there will be no dying required today. I’ve found you, now we must find MC. The burdens you carry are so heavy for ones so young. You both need the truth. Will you come with me?”

She had played to his weaknesses, the promise of knowledge and discovery, cornering him with her understanding of him and her connection to his mother. She had played a good game, and he knew that the lure of this was not something he could say no to. She knew it, too, her request merely a formality.

“Do you know where MC is now?”

“I have a fairly good idea,” she smiled. “I have eyes everywhere.”

He nodded, returning her grip on his hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. “I will come with you,” he said firmly.

To be continued...

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #leander prewett #blood bound #leander prewett x mc #blueraineshadows

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