#sebastian sallow slow burn

[morelikeravenbore]

When you let a French girl into the Undercroft ✨

'Aurélie!'

With a little gasp, Aurélie jolted out of her reverie to find a pair of very annoyed brown eyes fixed upon her, their usual warmth made molten by the flickering of ten thousand or more magically potent flames above them; Sebastian had abandoned his frenetic lecture on the theories of Ancient Magic to glare down his nose at her, his arms folded across his chest.

'Are you even listening to me?'

She flashed him a sheepish grin. 'Yes,' she said, gesturing vaguely at her parchment. 'I'm taking notes. See?'

Sebastian took one look at the scruffy-haired stick figure she'd been doodling, made a sound that was both amused and incredulous at the same time, then threw himself on the sofa with a long, exasperated sigh. The deep-set cushions sagged under his weight, tilting him sideways until his arm pressed firmly against hers, as warm and strong as it had been the night he'd held her. He made no move to right himself. 'If you're trying to drive me absolutely bonkers,' he groaned, pressing his hands over his face, 'you're doing a very good job of it. Did you listen to a single word I just said?'

🦋 How to Make a Villain, chapter eighteen. [wattpad | ao3]

[cosmetologynerd]

Invisible String - Sebastian Sallow

It was time. 

The clock ticked on and on, begging for the attention I didn't want to give it. Ticking closer and closer to 11:00 on September the first, staring down at me from the large clock inside Kings Cross Station. Platforms nine and ten stared at me from ahead while that damned clock ticked at me from behind. 

It was time. 

But how could it already be here? It felt like only yesterday I'd gotten off the train and rolled my trolley out into London. Seemed only yesterday I'd walked back to my empty city home yet again. A whole summer passed in the blink of an eye, and I couldn't much recall what I had done. 

But here I was, frozen before the hidden archway, clock ticking, my train getting ready to leave in the next ten minutes, wondering where all the time had gone. Steadying myself with a deep breath, I walked forward quickly, passing through the barrier without any Muggle the wiser to my sudden disappearance. 

It was time. 

The darkness of the passage pressed in around me for a moment and I allowed myself the opportunity to take one more steadying breath before the steam filled platform came into view and I rushed forward to find a hopefully still empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express. 

I didn't want to see anyone just yet. 

Luckily, anyone I may have known either seemed to be saying goodbye to family or in an already full compartment in the scarlet steam engine emblazoned with the crest of Hogwarts. I made a beeline for the train, wishing now that I hadn't wasted so much time with my contemplation earlier. The clock was ticking faster. 

Reaching an entry at the middle point of the train, I pointed my wand at my trunk, whispering a levitation charm as I did so to make the task of loading my trunk by myself easier. As I stepped onto the train, trunk following happily behind me as excited first years squished themselves out of the way, I spotted an empty compartment and launched myself at it. I guided my trunk to the upper shelf and plopped myself into the seat, closing the compartment door as I did so.

People were running up and down the corridors, wands, spell books, owl cages, cats and brown wrapped parcels all clutched tightly in arms as loud excited voices echoed after each other as students reunited with friends after a long summer apart. The train lurched forward and we were off, speeding off to Hogwarts. 

My heart ached at the sight of reunion in the hall, and I thought about my best friends.

"No," I whispered to myself, pulling my eyes from the corridor and directing them to the window, watching the countryside race by in a blur. "It was for the best." 

"What was for the best, Abbi?" Poppy's voice sounded from my compartment door, her trunk levitating behind her as mine had done. She loaded it onto the rack across from mine and sat across from me, her robes flung carelessly onto the seat beside her. I hadn't even heard her open the compartment door. 

I smiled at her. Her features broke into a wide grin and I couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude for my Hufflepuff friend. She'd been there for me through everything fifth year, and never pushed on the subject of the boys I'd once called my best friends. "Oh, nothing, Poppy. How was your summer?" 

And with that, she was talking a mile a minute, tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear as she told me about her adventures over the summer. 

"It was wonderful. Gran and I went to Paris- she wanted to add more to her research into Mooncalf's and see if they differed behaviorally from those here." 

"I hope you didn't run into more poacher camps while you were off in Paris, Poppy," I teased, knowing full well that the brunette probably sought them out. 

"Maybe one or two," she said with a wave of dismissal. "We've faced enough of them that it wasn't a big deal." 

I laughed and we settled into more conversation about her travels. As we caught up, talking and laughing, the sky outside grew darker and darker. Time was yet again racing by, but this time I didn't seem to mind. If I wasn't alone, the crushing weight of time didn't seem to have the same impact. We were barreling towards Hogsmead, Hogwarts, the surrounding wizarding Hamlets and our seventh year. 

It was time. 

"Can you believe it's already our last year at Hogwarts?" I asked, standing to pull the blinds closed as the lamps flicked on to provide light that the setting sun was taking with it so that Poppy and I could change into our school robes. I barely heard her reply as he walked by the compartment. 

Sebastian Sallow. 

He was here, guiding Ominis through the corridor by his arm, deep in conversation. I noted his brown hair was curlier than the last time I'd seen him. He'd also grown several inches taller this summer. His freckled face was serious, eyebrows pinched together slightly in the center. I quickly pulled the blind down, wanting to avoid the lifting gaze of his deep brown eyes, hoping he hadn't seen me. 

But I swore as I pulled away from the door I heard the faintest falter in his step before continuing on. 

Good. 

I quickly put my attention back on Poppy, trying to ignore the buzzing in my stomach at the sight of my fellow Slytherin. 

"-it must be such a odd feeling for you, of course, having this be your third and last year at Hogwarts. I couldn't imagine only getting three years at the castle." 

I smiled weakly at her as I pulled on my uniform, black skirt that stopped just above my knees, white button down shirt, dark green velvet vest embroidered with the silver serpent of Salazar Slytherin and finally my long black Slytherin robes, green silk lining the inside. "It is kind of odd," I said, thinking hard. "Maybe that's why I keep thinking about time." 

Poppy fastened the clasp of her own robes before looking at me, head tilted slightly to the side. "Time?" 

"Yeah," I said. "I think it feels like everything's going so fast. Like there's almost not enough of it or something."

"Oh, I get it," Poppy sighed as she flopped down into the seat again, arms crossed. "I've been there- when I was in the poacher camp with my parents. It's like time won't stop no matter what you do, right?" 

"Yes," I breathed. I felt the train lurch and slow down rapidly. We were here. 

Poppy lead the way from the compartment, her brown hair longer than the last time I'd seen her. Her usual bob traded for a braid that stopped just between her shoulder blades. 

"Growing your hair out?" I asked, flicking the end of her braid over her shoulder. 

"Just didn't have time to get it cut," she groaned, shoving it behind her again. "I'll tell you what though, first free second I have, I'm in Hogsmead cutting it off. You can come with if you want, we can grab a Butterbeer after." 

"Sounds wonderful, Poppy." 

We trudged up the path from the train station, and I looked around, taking in the sights and familiar smells of the village. The carriages pulled by thestrals waited for us, and we clambered into one, followed by two third year students we didn't know before the carriage set off. 

It was time.

[myokk]

“They were once again standing on either side of the elegant stone pensieve, white-knuckled hands gripping its edges as they stared, wide-eyed, at each other. Their faces were so close together that the air Eloise breathed out was inhaled by Sebastian.

They stayed like that for seconds, minutes, hours, unable - unwilling - to break the spell.”

From chapter 11 of my fic 😇

[syaolaurant]

It's Violette's birthday today so I decided to finally give her a kiss 💋 😘

.

P/s: Thanks for the birthday gift everyone 🥰💓💓 I love them so so much. Vi is spending her time with Seb right now so she'll get back to you soon 😉 Love ya all 😘😘😘

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

The Fallout | Sebastian Sallow x OC #21

this entire chapter is angst and hurt with pretty much no comfort bc sebastian sallow is an idiot.

Summary: Sebastian, wracked with guilt after betraying Evangeline’s trust, seeks her out to apologize, navigating through Ominis’s pointed rebuke and his own self-loathing. He finds Evangeline by the Black Lake, and though their conversation is raw and painful, they begin to bridge the gap between them, with Sebastian vowing to change (again).

Words: 7,782

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Unspoken Feelings, Angst AGAIN, Emotional Fallout, Happy(?) Ending, Miscommunication, Drama, Sebastian Sallow Is An Idiot, Ominis Gaunt Being VERY Done™

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

The Great Hall was alive with the low hum of chatter, punctuated by bursts of laughter from distant tables. To most, it was the familiar chaos of breakfast before enjoying the weekend. To Ominis, it was a minefield.

His wand rested lightly against the table, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on its polished surface. His sharp ears picked up the undercurrent of conversation, threads of gossip weaving their way through the hall. He didn’t need sight to know who the subject was—Evangeline, whose name was on far too many tongues this week, and Sebastian, the ever-present chaos at the heart of Ominis’s life.

“…stood up for him like he’s some kind of hero,” someone hissed from the Ravenclaw table behind him, their voice dripping with scorn. “And then he’s caught snogging some fifth-year? Couldn’t even wait for her to wake up. Poor thing.”

Another voice chimed in, softer but no less cutting. “I heard she passed out by the fire and a moment later, he was off with the next Gryffindor. Honestly, it’s embarrassing.”

Ominis gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening. He carefully kept his expression neutral, though his fingers curled into a fist under the table. These weren’t just idle comments; they were knives, sharp and intentional, aimed at two of the people he cared about most.

Evangeline had always been bold, unflinching in her loyalty to those she called friends, and Ominis hadn’t been surprised when she confronted Lysander to defend Sebastian's honor—Evangeline’s fierce devotion was as much a part of her as her Quidditch skills or her sharp tongue. What had surprised him was how quickly Sebastian had thrown it all away.

Around him, the murmurs shifted, growing louder, like a fire spreading unchecked.

“Did you see how close she was sitting to him before it all went down? Makes you wonder how long he was waiting for her to pass out so he could leave,” someone at the Hufflepuff table said, their voice tinged with curiosity.

Ominis clenched his wand tighter, the cool wood grounding him as his anger simmered. He couldn’t tell what enraged him more—the audacity of the rumors or the fact that Sebastian’s actions made them so easy to believe.

"You'll break your wand if you're not careful," Imelda’s voice was surprisingly warm and low enough not to draw attention. She plopped herself down beside him with the casual confidence only she could pull off.

Ominis loosened his grip and let out a long, steadying breath. “I should hex everyone to make these rumors stop.”

Imelda snorted. “You and I both know the only thing that would stop these rumors is a new scandal. Give it a week—someone else will do something idiotic, and Sterling and Sallow will be yesterday’s gossip.”

Ominis doubted that. The combination of Evangeline’s bold declaration of loyalty in front of the whole school and Sebastian’s reckless behavior had painted an irresistible target on both their backs. The spectacle was too good, the drama too ripe, for people to let it go easily.

Imelda leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “For what it’s worth, the rest of us are doing our best to stop the spread of this garbage. Poppy practically hexed a Hufflepuff who was being too loud about it yesterday, and Natty shut down a pack of Ravenclaws in Charms.” She shrugged. “We’ve got her back.”

It was true. Their group—Natty, Poppy, Garreth, and the others—had done their best to redirect conversations and shut down the crueler remarks when they came up. But there were limits to what even a tightly-knit group of sixth years could do. Hogwarts wasn’t exactly known for its restraint when it came to gossip.

Ominis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just—” He cut himself off, unsure how to finish the thought.

Imelda didn’t wait for him to try. “You’re worried about them,” she said simply, as if the thought wasn’t worth debating. “Look, Sterling’s tough. And Sebastian… well, he’s an idiot, but he’s not helpless.”

“An idiot is putting it lightly,” Ominis muttered. “This has hurt both of them. Evangeline’s been humiliated, and Sebastian—” He paused, shaking his head. “He knows he’s responsible, even if he hasn't admitted it.”

“It’s just…” Imelda hesitated, which caught Ominis off guard. She rarely hesitated. “I hate seeing her like this. She’s always been so… sure of herself, you know? I don’t like watching people like her get knocked down because of someone else’s stupidity.”

Imelda’s words hung in the air, heavier than Ominis expected. She rarely let her concern for others show, but when she did, it carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. He let the silence stretch between them for a moment, his mind turning over her observations.

"She’s been avoiding everyone," Ominis finally said, his voice quiet. "Burying herself in books. She’s retreating."

Imelda sighed, her usual bravado replaced by a rare softness. "And what about Sallow? Is he retreating too, or just digging himself into a deeper hole?"

Ominis let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, he’s digging, all right. Acting like none of this bothers him, flashing that irritating smirk at everyone who dares bring it up to his face. Still choosing to be seen with the same girl he snogged that night. But I know him too well to believe it. It’s a mask." His tone darkened. "The worst part is that he hasn’t even apologized to her. Not properly."

Imelda shook her head, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like bloody idiot.

"He’s lucky Sterling hasn’t hexed him," she said. "If it were me, I’d have turned him into a flobberworm by now."

Ominis couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sure she's thought about it. But Evangeline isn’t like you, Imelda. She doesn’t lash out when she’s hurt—she pulls away."

"And you’re caught in the middle," Imelda observed, her tone resigned. "As always."

"As always," Ominis echoed, his voice laced with weariness.

Imelda tilted her head, studying Ominis’s face with an expression he couldn’t see but could feel. “So, what’s the plan then, Gaunt? You’ve always got one.”

Ominis frowned, his fingers still idly tapping against his wand. His plan? As if he could snap his fingers and undo the damage Sebastian had caused—not just to Evangeline’s reputation, but to the fragile balance of their trio. “I don’t know if there’s a plan for this,” he admitted. “Evangeline needs space, but if we leave her alone too long, it’ll only get worse. And Sebastian…” He trailed off, the weight of Sebastian’s stubbornness settling like a stone in his chest. “Sebastian needs a proper kick to the head.”

Imelda laughed, though it was short and dry. “If you’re volunteering, I’ll hold your wand while you do it.”

"Too bad his skull's too thick for it to work,” Ominis replied, lips twitching into a faint smirk before fading again. "He knows he’s ruined things; he just doesn’t know how to fix them.”

Imelda leaned back, crossing her arms. “So, no plan?”

“Not yet,” Ominis admitted, though his mind was turning. He wasn’t sure what the right course of action was, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving things as they were.

“I’ll think of something." He said at length, "Someone has to.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Imelda said, standing and grabbing her plate. “And when you do get around to kicking some sense into him, make sure Sterling’s around to watch. She deserves the entertainment.”

Ominis leaned back in his seat as Imelda departed, his mind whirring. Someone had to step in. Sebastian was clearly incapable of making the first move, and Evangeline… she was too hurt to reach out herself. And if nothing changed soon, the damage might become permanent.

He pushed his plate away, no longer hungry, and rose to his feet. Raising his wand to guide him, he made his way out of the Great Hall, the chatter behind him fading into a dull roar.

~

The library was quieter than the Great Hall, but it carried its own brand of tension. The soft rustling of pages and the occasional scrape of a chair created an uneasy symphony, one that suited Ominis’s mood. He navigated the familiar aisles, his wand guiding him toward the far corner where he hoped Evangeline would be hiding.

She’d been skipping meals and even classes all week, avoiding crowds and slinking away before anyone could corner her. Ominis had been patient, waiting for her to resurface on her own, but her absence was stretching into worry. The Evangeline he knew—bold enough to face down trolls and outfly Imelda in Quidditch—didn’t hide. It wasn’t like her to disappear—not like this.

Ominis stopped when he reached the corner table and tilted his head, listening for the familiar scratch of a quill or the rustle of parchment. Relief swept through him when he caught the faint, rhythmic sound of writing.

“Still avoiding everyone?” he asked as he approached, his tone carefully casual.

Evangeline paused mid-stroke but didn’t look up. “I’m studying,” she replied, her voice clipped. The quill resumed its steady movements, but there was tension in her tone, a defensive edge that Ominis didn’t miss.

“Studying, hiding,” he said, pulling out the chair across from her and settling into it. “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

She let out a sigh, setting her quill down and leaning back in her chair. “What do you want, Ominis?”

He rested his wand lightly on the table, folding his hands in front of him. “To make sure you’re alive. I've been worried.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the books stacked around her. “Now, if you don’t mind—”

“Evangeline,” he interrupted gently, his tone firm but calm. “You can’t keep doing this. Hiding won’t make the rumors go away.”

Her hazel eyes snapped up to meet his, sharp and tired. “What else am I supposed to do, Ominis? Walk into the Great Hall and pretend I don’t hear them? Pretend they’re not calling me an idiot?” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she looked away, her fingers curling into fists on the table.

“They’re cruel, Evangeline,” Ominis said softly. “But they don’t define you.”

“They don’t have to,” she replied bitterly. “I’ve already defined myself—for the whole school. The foolish Gryffindor who stood by her so-called friend who turned Quidditch into boxing, only to find out he doesn’t care. At all.”

“That’s not true,” Ominis said, leaning forward. “Sebastian cares. He cares so much that he’s too afraid to face you and apologize."

She let out a hollow laugh, her expression hardening. “If that’s your attempt at defending him, don’t bother. Actions speak louder than words, Ominis, and his actions have been loud and clear.”

Ominis sighed, rubbing his temple. “I’m not defending what he did. And believe me, he knows he’s made a mess of things. But he’s too much of an idiot to figure out how to fix it.”

“Then that’s his problem,” she said sharply, standing up and gathering her books. “Not mine.”

“Evangeline—”

She paused, her shoulders tense but not turning back to him. “I appreciate you checking on me, Ominis. Really, I do. But I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

He didn’t stop her as she walked away, her footsteps quick and purposeful. Instead, he sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the wood.

Ominis pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to push the building tension out of his skull. He’d thought that after last year, they could weather anything. But now he wasn’t so sure.

This wasn’t about dark magic or ancient artifacts. It wasn’t about the kind of betrayal you could blame on desperation or fear. This was about trust. And Sebastian had shattered it, not with curses or lies, but with something so mundane it almost felt worse.

Last year, Ominis found himself thinking, when Sebastian did the unthinkable, Evangeline had stood by him.

Ominis could recall the horror of that night with a clarity that made his stomach churn. The dark chamber, the oppressive weight if the the air, and the sickening, searing sounds of the Cruciatus Curse as it tore through her. She hadn’t hesitated to let Sebastian cast that unforgivable curse on her, because she’d believed in him. She’d trusted him enough to endure that kind of agony, certain that he wouldn’t lead her astray.

And later, when Sebastian’s own desperation and grief had driven him to kill Solomon in front of her, she still hadn’t left his side. She’d looked at Sebastian and seen a boy crushed under the weight of his own choices, not a monster, not a murderer. She’d forgiven him.

And now?

Now, after all of that, this—the fallout of one drunken party and Sebastian’s idiocy—felt like an impossible hurdle. And Ominis hated it. Hated the absurdity of it. Hated that something so comparatively trivial could cause this much damage between them.

But then, should he be surprised?

For the past two years, Evie had been the one who stood in Sebastian’s corner no matter what. She’d fought his battles, taken his side, even when Ominis had turned away in anger or disgust. How many more times could she be expected to put herself in the line of fire for him? How many more times could she pick up the pieces of his mess, only to have him treat her loyalty as something he was entitled to, rather than a gift?

Ominis knew Sebastian was a master at self-destruction, but this was different. This wasn’t just about Sebastian’s inability to apologize—it was about Evangeline’s breaking point. And Sebastian had betrayed her. Not in some dramatic, high-stakes moment like the ones they’d faced last year, but in a way that was somehow more personal. More intimate. He hadn’t protected her—not from the rumors, not from humiliation, and certainly not from himself.

Ominis sighed, pushing himself to his feet.

He couldn't allow this to tear their friendship apart. He couldn't let the two people he cared for most drift further away, not when he knew how much they meant to each other—even if they were too stubborn to admit it right now. Evangeline and Sebastian were tangled together in ways they probably didn’t even understand themselves, and Ominis had spent enough time caught in their orbit to know he had to intervene.

Ominis took a steadying breath, his resolve hardening. If there was one thing he was good at, it was cutting through Sebastian’s excuses. He wasn’t sure what he’d say yet, but he knew it wouldn’t be gentle. Sebastian had burned through every ounce of patience Ominis had left. If cruel honesty was what it took to finally get through to him, then so be it.

~

The Undercroft was quiet when Ominis arrived, the stone walls damp with the faint chill that always lingered in the hidden room. His footsteps echoed softly as he stepped inside, his wand guiding him toward the center where he knew Sebastian would be. Because when things got overwhelming—and they always did with Sebastian—he retreated to the Undercroft. It was his sanctuary.

But not today. Today, it would be his reckoning.

Sure enough, Sebastian was there, pacing in agitated circles. Ominis could hear the scuff of his boots against the floor, could feel the restless energy radiating off of him even without seeing it. He stopped mid-step when the wall closed behind Ominis, and for a moment, the silence stretched between them.

“You’re late,” Sebastian said eventually, his voice carrying a familiar edge of bravado. But it was thinner than usual, and Ominis could tell he was barely holding it together.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, haven’t you?” Ominis replied, his voice calm but laced with steel.

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “If you’re just going to yell at me, save it. I’ve heard enough of it from Imelda, from Poppy—hell, even Garreth had a go at me.”

Ominis took a step forward, “And did any of them get through to you?”

Sebastian didn’t answer right away, his silence telling. Finally, he muttered, “I already know I messed up, Ominis.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Ominis snapped, his frustration breaking through. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Any idea how much you’ve hurt her?”

Sebastian flinched, but Ominis pressed on, his tone sharp. “Evangeline has stood by you through everything—through curses, through murder, protecting you from Azkaban. She’s defended you, fought for you when you didn’t deserve it. And now, because of one drunken night and your inability to think past your own damn nose, you’ve humiliated her in front of the entire school.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sebastian said quietly, his voice strained.

Ominis barked out a bitter laugh. “Of course you didn’t. You never mean to. But that doesn’t change what happened. While she was passed out, Sebastian—passed out—you went and snogged some fifth-year by the fire. Do you even realize how that looks? How that makes her feel?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Sebastian exploded, his voice rising. “I—Merlin, Ominis, I didn’t plan for any of this to happen! It just… it just did.”

Ominis took another step forward, his voice cutting like steel. “And instead of fixing it, you’ve spent the last week pretending it doesn’t bother you. Flashing that stupid grin, parading around with the same girl you snogged that night—”

“I’m not parading—”

“Don’t,” Ominis snapped, his tone icy. “Don’t even try to justify it. You’ve made a mess of things, Sebastian. A mess that Evangeline is paying for. And what have you done to fix it? Hm?”

Sebastian exhaled a shuddering breath, his pacing resuming as though the movement could somehow release the weight of Ominis’s words. The silence between them grew heavy again, stretching like a taut wire that threatened to snap.

“Why?” Ominis finally asked, his voice low but unyielding. “Why did you do it, Sebastian?”

Sebastian froze mid-step, his back to Ominis. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if the answer could be wrung out of his skull. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Sebastian turned sharply, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Ominis! I was drunk! She was drunk! It just—” He stopped, his fists clenching at his sides. “It just happened.”

Ominis shook his head, unimpressed. "I’ve known you long enough to know that everything you do has a reason—even if it’s a selfish one. So tell me why. Why did you do it?"

Sebastian’s jaw worked as he looked away, his gaze fixed on some point on the floor. Ominis could hear the rapid, uneven rhythm of his breathing, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his frame.

“What were you thinking?!” Ominis pressed, his tone sharp.

Sebastian barked out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You really want to know, Ominis? Fine. I was thinking about myself,” he said, "About what I wanted, about—” He hesitated, his voice faltering. “About what I couldn’t have.”

Ominis clenched his jaw, his knuckles whitening around his wand. He knew where this was going, but hearing Sebastian lay it out piece by piece was like watching a slow-motion train wreck.

Sebastian let out a bitter sigh, slumping against one of the stone pillars. “She was… Merlin, Evie was so drunk. But she was happy to see me. She smiled at me like, like maybe she—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening before he forced the words out. “Like maybe she might feel the same way. Like maybe we could actually have a chance.”

“But then she passed out. And I—I should have stayed with her. I know that." He laughed again , the sound hollow and self-loathing. "But all I could think about was what it felt like when she looked at me, when she leaned into me like she didn’t want to let go. And how much I wanted her. How much I couldn’t have her. Because she'll never love me back, Ominis. And I don't deserve her anyway.”

He pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead, his words tumbling out in a rush now. “And then I saw someone else, and for one stupid, selfish second, it was easier. Easier to let myself pretend my feelings for Evie didn’t matter, to forget how much I wanted someone I couldn't have and never will. So, yes. I kissed her. I didn’t think about what it looked like, or what it meant, or how much worse it would make everything. I just… did it.” His voice cracked and he turned away, his shoulders trembling with the weight of his confession.

“And now you've ruined everything,” Ominis muttered, his voice low but razor-sharp.

Sebastian flinched, his head dropping. “I know, Ominis. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“Oh, I do,” Ominis shot back, stepping closer, his tone gaining an edge. “Because apparently, it takes the whole damn school yelling at you before anything gets through that thick skull of yours."

Sebastian turned back to him, his expression anguished. “Do you really think you need to say all this? That I don’t already hate myself?”

“Hate yourself all you like," Ominis said coldly. "But hating yourself doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t undo what you did, and it sure as hell doesn’t make up for the fact that you left her lying there while you went off to satisfy your ego.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his head falling against the pillar again with a dull thud. “How could I leave her there, Ominis? I didn’t even think about what might happen to her. What if she’d gotten sick? What if someone else found her before Natty? What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Do you want me to list it all out for you, Sebastian?” Ominis’s voice was sharp and unrelenting, each word like a lash. “Do you want me to spell out exactly what’s wrong with you? Because I will. I’ll tell you that you’re selfish. That you’re reckless. That you’ve let your feelings for Evangeline warp you into someone so consumed by his own desires that you don't even think about the destruction your decisions leave in their wake.”

Sebastian flinched, but Ominis didn’t stop. He stepped closer, his voice deadly calm. “I’ll tell you that you’ve taken the strongest person I know—the one who never wavered, who stood by you when no one else would—and you’ve turned her into someone who hides. You’ve made her doubt herself. Doubt her worth. And why? Because of your selfishness. Because of your inability to think beyond your own wants.”

Sebastian’s shoulders sagged, his mouth opening as if to respond, but no words came. Ominis’s voice grew colder, his tone cutting like ice.

“You humiliated her, Sebastian. In ways no one else ever could. Not the Slytherins who taunt her about her heritage. Not the gossiping fools who envy her. You. Because she trusted you. She trusted you more than anyone else in this world, and you threw that trust away—for what? A fleeting, meaningless moment of distraction?”

Sebastian’s fists clenched, his knuckles white. “I didn’t—” he started, his voice hoarse.

“Didn’t what?” Ominis interrupted, stepping closer until he was looming over Sebastian, “Didn’t think? Didn’t mean it? Those excuses won’t fix what you’ve done. You can’t undo this with hollow words or promises you’ll never keep.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his head hanging low as Ominis continued, his tone softening slightly but still firm. “You're broken. You’ve been breaking ever since Anne left, ever since Solomon died, ever since you let yourself believe you don’t deserve better. And maybe you’re right. Maybe you don’t. You sure as hell don't deserve Evangeline. But she deserves better than the coward you’re being right now.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with the weight of Ominis’s words. For once, Sebastian had no quick retort, no deflections or bravado to hide behind. He stood there, raw and exposed, the reality of his actions settling over him like a suffocating fog.

Ominis stepped back, his expression unreadable. “If you want to fix this, then stop wallowing and do something about it. Not for you—for her. She’s not going to wait for you forever, Sebastian."

Sebastian looked up at him then, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t know how,” he whispered. “I don’t know where to start, Ominis.”

Ominis stared at Sebastian for a long moment. His sharp features softened only slightly, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface.

“You start,” Ominis said, his voice low and deliberate, “By telling her the truth. And then you listen, Sebastian. You listen to what she has to say, and you take it. Whatever she throws at you, you take it, because you deserve it.”

Sebastian flinched at the finality in Ominis’s tone, the weight of his words sinking deeper into the pit of his stomach. His eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders sagging under the crushing realization of just how badly he’d screwed up. “What if she doesn't forgive me?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“I think,” Ominis said, his voice softer now but no less firm, “that Evangeline Sterling has already given you more chances than anyone else ever would. And if you don’t stop wasting them, then yes, Sebastian. She’ll stop listening. She’ll stop caring. And she'll stop forgiving. But you have no one to blame but yourself.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, the motion heavy with resignation. “I’ll... I'll talk to her,” he said finally, his voice hollow.

Ominis didn’t respond right away. He studied Sebastian for a moment longer, as though weighing his words. Then he gave a short, curt nod. “Good. And Sebastian?”

Sebastian looked up at him, his expression hollow and weary. “Yeah?”

“If she forgives you, don’t make her regret giving you another chance.” Ominis’s voice was like iron, unyielding. “Because if you hurt her again, I won’t forgive you either.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, the weight of Ominis’s warning settling over him like a second layer of guilt. He didn’t reply, and Ominis didn’t wait for him to. With a swish of his wand, the Undercroft’s entrance opened, and Ominis stepped through without another word, leaving Sebastian alone with his thoughts.

~

Sebastian woke to the damp chill of the Undercroft, the rough stone beneath him pressing uncomfortably into his back. His neck ached from the awkward angle at which he’d slumped against one of the pillars, and his robes were crumpled, wrinkled from what could hardly be called sleep. For a moment, he stared up at the ceiling, his mind foggy and disoriented, the weight in his chest a stubborn, familiar ache.

How had he ended up here?

It hit him all at once: Ominis. His words. The cold fury in his voice, the brutal precision of every accusation. The memory surged back like a slap, leaving no room for denial, no way to escape the truth Ominis had hammered into him.

You humiliated her, Sebastian. In ways no one else ever could. Because she trusted you.

Sebastian groaned, dragging a hand over his face. The coarse fabric of his sleeve scratched against his skin, grounding him against the dull throb of his guilt. He knew he deserved it. Deserved worse, even. But that didn’t make it any easier to breathe.

Sebastian sat up slowly, his body stiff and sluggish. The cool air of the Undercroft wrapped around him, biting through his crumpled robes, but he barely felt it. All he could feel was the memory of Evangeline’s absence—her quiet absence in the hallways, the way her laughter had disappeared from their group, leaving behind a hollow silence he couldn’t fill.

You threw that trust away.

Sebastian pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, as if he could physically push the memories back, stop them from replaying over and over. But they wouldn’t stop, because Ominis had been right. His words weren’t just true—they were inescapable.

Because she trusted you.

The thought alone was enough to drive him to his feet, his legs trembling slightly from the hours he’d spent curled on the ground. He staggered upright, leaning briefly against the pillar for support as his knees protested. His movements were stiff, his body as uncooperative, but he couldn’t stay here.

He had to find her. He had to try to fix this.

The Great Hall buzzed with its usual morning energy as Sebastian stepped inside, scanning the Gryffindor table for any sign of her. His stomach clenched when he saw that her usual spot—wedged between Natty and Cressida—was empty. His heart sank further when he caught sight of the guarded expressions on their faces as he approached.

“Where’s Evangeline?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep and the lingering tension in his chest.

Natty exchanged a glance with Cressida before answering. “We don’t know,” she said carefully.

Sebastian frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Cressida said softly, “that she hasn’t been around much. We didn't see her this morning in the common room, nor in our dorm. She’s barely there. She wakes up before us, goes to bed late, and hardly says a word.”

Her words landed like a blow to his gut. “She hasn’t said where she’s been?”

Natty shook her head, her expression turning to one of quiet reproach. “Sebastian, she’s avoiding people for a reason.”

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. He wanted to press them for more, but the look in Natty’s eyes was enough to stop him. She knew what had happened—of course she did, she's the one who found Evie laying there alone—and there was no hiding from the judgment in her eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered before turning on his heel and stalking out of the hall.

The hours that followed were a frustrating blur of dead ends as Sebastian scoured every corner of the castle he could think of.

He wandered through the library first, weaving between the shelves and peering into the tucked-away corners where she liked to study. His footsteps echoed in the quiet space, but no matter how far he searched, there was no sign of her. Madam Scribner glared at him over her spectacles when his whispered inquiries became too loud, and he left before her irritation could boil over into words.

The Quidditch pitch was his next stop, but it, too, was empty, save for a pair of second-years casually tossing a Quaffle back and forth. He lingered at the edge of the stands for a moment, staring out at the expanse of grass, before turning away with a muttered curse.

By the time night fell, his legs ached from climbing stairs and traversing hallways, but his determination remained unwavering. He retreated to the Undercroft once more, hoping that she might show up, seeking the solace the hidden room often provided. But as the minutes stretched into hours, he was met with nothing but the cold, empty silence of the space.

It was in the early hours of morning that Sebastian finally slipped through the entrance to the Slytherin common room. The dim, green-tinted room was nearly empty, save for a pair of fifth-years whispering near the hearth, but Sebastian barely spared them a glance as he made his way toward his dormitory.

He felt hollow, his chest tight with frustration and guilt. Hours of searching had turned up nothing, and the idea of going to bed without finding her filled him with a restless dread.

Pushing open the door to his dormitory, he stepped inside, his gaze immediately snapping to the companion candle on his bedside table. The soft glow of its flame greeted him, flickering steadily. His pulse quickened.

Evangeline was awake somewhere.

Sebastian stepped back into the corridor and closed the door behind him, leaning heavily against it as relief warred with frustration. She was awake. But where?

He racked his brain, thought back to every conversation, every memory they’d shared, searching for something—anything—that might give him a clue of where she might be hiding.

And then, it hit him.

The memory she’d shared with him for his birthday. It had been a beautiful day by the Black Lake in their fifth year, the two of them sitting side by side, staring out at the water as the sky reflected on its surface.

Sebastian pushed off the door, his heart pounding. Maybe she was there. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

The castle was silent as he slipped through its shadowed corridors. Sneaking out past curfew was second nature to him by now, but tonight, his usual thrill of rebellion was absent. All he could focus on was finding her.

The cool night air hit him as he stepped onto the grounds, the vast expanse of the Black Lake stretching out before him. The moonlight danced across its surface, casting rippling reflections that seemed to shift with the breeze. The chill bit at his exposed skin, but he ignored it, his eyes scanning the shoreline.

And then he saw her.

She was perched on a low, weathered rock near the edge of the lake, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders, catching the moonlight.

For a moment, he stopped, his breath catching in his throat. The sight of her after what felt like an eternity apart stilled him, rooting him to the spot. She looked so small, so fragile, her usual fire dimmed into quiet embers.

Sebastian swallowed hard, forcing his legs to move. The crunch of his boots against the gravel shore broke the silence, and he saw her stiffen slightly at the sound. She didn’t turn to look at him, but he knew she knew he was there.

“Evie,” he said softly, his voice barely carrying over the lapping of the lake’s gentle waves.

She didn’t respond. Her gaze remained fixed on the water, her arms tightening around her knees.

Sebastian hesitated, unsure whether to move closer. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong step would send them both tumbling into an abyss they couldn’t climb out of.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he’d been carrying.

“Why?” she asked, her tone flat and distant. The single word cut through him like a blade.

He took a step closer, the cool air biting at his skin. “Because I need to talk to you."

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and devoid of warmth. "What for? To give me some excuse for why you left me there? Why you chose her over me?" Her voice cracked, and she quickly turned away, her hands gripping the fabric of her cardigan - the very same one he'd picked out for her weeks ago in Hogsmeade. And now, seeing her clutch it like armor against him, the memory felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

“I—” His voice faltered. He had spent hours in his mind rehearsing what he might say if he found her, but now, faced with the raw pain in her voice and the sight of her curling further into herself, every word felt inadequate.

“You what, Sebastian?” she snapped, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes, glinting in the moonlight, weren’t filled with the fire he was used to. They were dulled, tired, and red-rimmed from tears. “You didn’t mean for it to happen? You didn’t think it would matter? You didn’t—what? Care?”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, the desperation in his tone undeniable. “I care, Evie. I care more than I can—” He stopped, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I just… I didn’t think. I was stupid, and I didn’t think.”

“Didn’t think.” She repeated the words slowly, bitterly, her voice dripping with disbelief. “That’s always your excuse, isn’t it?”

Sebastian flinched, the accusation hitting harder than he’d expected.

“You didn’t think about how I would feel,” she continued, her voice steady but trembling with barely restrained emotion. “You didn’t think about what it would be like for me to hear what you did—to watch you strut around the school with her on your arm and know that everyone was laughing at my expense. You didn’t think about how it would feel to trust you, to stand by you, and have you turn around and… and—”

She broke off, her voice cracking as her gaze dropped back to the water. Her arms tightened around her knees again, her fingers digging into the fabric of the cardigan.

Sebastian took another step closer, his hands clenched at his sides as though he was physically holding himself back from reaching for her. “Evangeline,” he murmured, her full name slipping out instinctively.

"Don't call me that." Her voice cracked, sharp and brittle, as if the words themselves were a shield she had hastily raised.

Sebastian froze.

She had never stopped him from calling her Evangeline—never. It wasn’t just her name; it was his, in a way... something he naturally wielded with purpose. He used it sparingly, reserved for moments that carried weight: when he wanted to tease her into a smile, make her pause and really hear him, or when he needed to say something only she could understand. It was his way of reaching past her walls, of breaking through barriers when she threw them up. Now, hearing her reject it felt like a door slamming shut, leaving him stranded on the other side.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the words rough and uneven.

She shook her head, her gaze still fixed on the water. “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she murmured. “You’re good at that, you know—saying what people want to hear."

Sebastian stepped closer, “I do mean it,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’m sorry, Evang—Evie. For everything. For hurting you. For making you feel like I didn’t care. I... I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to. I need to.”

She let out a hollow laugh, her shoulders rising and falling with the motion. “Fix it? You can’t undo what you did. You can’t un-snog her. You can’t erase what everyone’s saying.”

“I know,” he said, his voice almost breaking. “I know I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to make it right."

Her head turned slightly at that, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment before darting away. “For me, or for you?” she asked softly. “You sure you're not just here to soothe your guilt? To make yourself feel better?”

“No!” he said urgently, stepping closer again. “This isn’t about me, Evie, it’s about you—because you’re…” His voice faltered, and he blinked hard, feeling the sting of tears building behind his eyes. “You’re everything to me, Evie. You always have been.”

Her breath hitched at his words, her posture stiffening as if she were bracing herself against them. “Stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Stop saying things you don’t mean.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, and a tear slipped down his cheek, warm and bitter against his skin. He wiped it away hastily, as if embarrassed, but his hands trembled at his sides. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he said, his voice raw. He took another step, closing the space between them, and knelt in front of her. His chest heaved with the effort to keep himself steady, to show her the truth in every fractured word.

Her hazel eyes lingered on the water for another beat, and then she exhaled, her shoulders sinking under the weight of everything she’d been holding back. It wasn’t a collapse, but a quiet unraveling, as though all her defenses were fraying at the edges.

The first tear slid down her cheek, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. It was followed by another, and then another, until her breath hitched, a small, broken sound escaping her lips. She pressed her trembling hands to her face, muffling the quiet sobs that started to spill free.

“Evie…” Sebastian’s voice cracked, raw and filled with desperation. His own eyes burned, his own tears slipping free, but he reached out instinctively, his hand hovering uncertainly over her arm. “Please... don’t cry. I—Merlin, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head without looking at him, her face buried in her hands. “You don’t get it,” she gasped through the tears, her voice raw and choked. “You don’t get how hard it is—how humiliated I’ve felt. I was always the one who stood by you, Sebastian. Always. And this... this is what I get for it.”

“You’re right,” he said hoarsely, his voice breaking again. “You’re right about all of it. I’ve been selfish, reckless... I’ve hurt you in ways I don’t know how to fix. But Evie, please believe me—I never meant to. I never wanted to hurt you.”

His hand trembled as it settled gently on her arm, the gesture tentative, pleading. When her gaze flickered down to it, Sebastian froze, his breath catching in his throat. He braced himself for her to pull away.

For a long moment, she didn’t move, her lips pressing into a thin line. But then, with a sigh so soft it was almost inaudible, she shifted, her body leaning ever so slightly toward him.

He stayed perfectly still, his breath catching as she let her head drop, her temple brushing lightly against his shoulder. He could feel her uneven breaths, the tremble in her frame as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I don’t know what to do with you, Sebastian,” she said after a long silence, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no anger in her tone now, no sharp edges. Just tired, aching honesty. “You always do this. You hurt me, and then you come back, and somehow, I always forgive you.”

He swallowed hard, guilt twisting in his chest like a knife. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said quietly, his voice rough.

She didn’t respond right away, her silence stretching out between them. The soft lapping of the lake’s waves didn't even fill the void that had grown. And when she finally spoke again, her voice was so quiet he almost missed it.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I keep thinking… maybe this time will be different. Maybe you’ll change. And then... you don’t.”

Sebastian flinched, “Evie, please,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m trying. I know I’ve failed, but I am trying. I swear I am.”

She let out a quiet, hollow laugh, her breath warm against his shoulder. “I think you believe that,” she said softly. “But it doesn’t feel like it from where I’m standing. From where I’m... sitting.” Her lips quirked faintly, though there was no humor in the gesture.

Sebastian’s chest tightened further, his vision blurred by unshed tears, “I’ll do better,” he said, his voice heavy with desperation. “I swear it, Evie. I know I’ve let you down. Over and over. And I hate myself for it. I hate what I’ve done to you. What I’ve done to us.”

She leaned back to look at him and her gaze softened slightly, though the weariness didn’t leave her eyes. “I don’t want you to hate yourself, Sebastian,” she said quietly. “I just… I just want you to stop hurting me.”

Sebastian felt her words sink into him like lead weights, dragging him down with the raw, simple truth of them. Stop hurting me. It wasn’t a demand or an accusation. It wasn’t even spoken with anger. It was a plea—fragile and trembling, like she didn’t even expect it to be possible.

“I will, Evie,” he murmured, his voice raw and unsteady. “I swear it.”

Her lips twitched faintly, though the ghost of a smile never quite formed. “You say that,” she said softly, leaning back against him. “And maybe you mean it. It's just... I don’t think I can take it again if you’re wrong.”

He didn’t respond right away. He didn’t trust himself to. Instead, he let the silence settle between them again, his hand still resting lightly on her arm. He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, the quiet stretching out into a fragile bubble. But eventually, he spoke again, his voice low and steady.

“I’m not wrong this time,” he said, the words more a vow than a promise. “I can’t be. Because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Evangeline's breath hitched then, and for a moment, he thought she might pull away. But instead, she simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment of his words. A silent understanding.

Sebastian let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his hand hesitating before shifting to cover hers where it rested against her knee. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t grip—just let his palm rest there, warm and steady, like an unspoken promise.

“You’re still a bloody idiot,” Evie murmured after what felt like an eternity, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Sebastian let out a faint laugh, the sound rough and cracked but real. “Yeah,” he admitted, his lips twitching into the barest of smiles. “I probably always will be.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hazel eyes searching his face. There was still hurt there, still an ache he couldn’t hope to erase in a single night. But there was something else, too—a flicker of something softer, something that gave him hope.

“Please don’t make me regret this, Sebastian,” she said quietly.

His throat tightened, and he nodded, his eyes locked on hers. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice raw but unwavering. “Not this time.”

For a moment, she held his gaze, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible sigh, she leaned back into him, letting her arms snake around his waist, pulling him closer.

The tension that had been coiled so tightly in Sebastian’s shoulders began to ease as he closed his eyes, his chin lightly brushing the top of her head. The scent of her hair enveloped him. It was a comfort he hadn’t realized he was desperate for until now.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice soft, “Whatever it takes, Evangeline, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll fix what I’ve broken.”

Her grip on him tightened slightly, and though she didn’t respond, he felt the subtle shift in her breathing. She was letting him in, piece by fragile piece. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. A beginning.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

Gryffindor Divider Credit

[cursedonyx]

Rushed lil doodle from Chapter 35 of my fic. Flipped because for some reason it looks better this way.

Links to the fic and my other nonsense in my masterlist

[xreaderbooks]

The Shadows of Our Love Masterlist | Sebastian Sallow

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Platonic! Garreth Weasley x Reader, Platonic! Ominis Gaunt x Reader)

Navigation - Playlist - Wattpad and AO3 - Moodboard 1

Following the events of Hogwarts Legacy: Tension rises in the Hamlets as well as in the house of Slytherin as Sebastian Sallow has taken to avoiding Y/n since the beginning of the school year. The lack of communication causes a rift between the once-close friends, both yearning for the other yet never fully expressing themselves to one another.

This school year was meant for studying, friends, and trying to rekindle her friendship with Sebastian Sallow who is set on avoiding her.

Y/n L/n is back at Hogwarts for her fifth year, left with an insurmountable amount of guilt, trauma, and ancient magic that she has lost control of over the summer; she must learn how to overcome her internal battle while also fighting a new one this year. With talk of a high society group called Death Reapers; Y/n must once again find the strength to fight for the wizarding world and confront her love for Sebastian Sallow.

Aged-up characters: 17-18 (6th years)

Slowburn - Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Hogwarts Legacy spoilers! Language, Violence, Death, Torture, Angst, Implied sexual content (no smut), SLOW BURN ASF

Chapter 1 | In the Shadow of Return

Chapter 2 | In the Shadow of Potions

Chapter 3 | In the Shadow of Evasion

Chapter 4 | In the Shadow of Strength

Chapter 5 | In the Shadow of Truth

Chapter 6 | In the Shadow of Rumors

Chapter 7 | In the Shadow of Quidditch

Chapter 8 | In the Shadow of Promises

Chapter 9 | In the Shadow of Interest

Chapter 10 | In the Shadow of Letters

Chapter 11 | In the Shadow of Duels

Chapter 12 | In the Shadow of Detention last updated: 8/15/23

Chapter 13 | In the Shadow of

Chapter 14 | In the Shadow of

Chapter 15 | In the Shadow of

more chapters to follow...

Y/n’s 6th year schedule:

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction, The author of this story has no ownership of any of the characters in the Hogwarts Legacy video game. Some dialogue is taken from the story set in Hogwarts Legacy. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and some scenes where the original character is involved are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

[trappezoider]

Finally finished the sixth chapter of my Sebinis fanfiction😭A huge, massive thank you to trello, my beta-reader. Couldn't have made it this far without her. She has improved my writing tremendously! This is very much a slow burn piece, planning on having it to be 20 chapters long at least :D Things will start escalating very soon though ;) The art below was originally made for the latest chapter of this fic so now I can finally add context to it. So happy!

[legacygirlingreen]

Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist

Scroll down for one shots / Farmer Seb Masterlist!

⋆｡˚𖦹 This Series was previously titled "Times in Sebastian's 5th year!!

As a reminder, this diverts heavily from Canon, using the characters from the game as foundations for a different story. Written in y/n (but slowly going back through to remove and leave only a few sparingly), it has more of a focus on Victorian standards for courting/relationships instead of just “hot and heavy” so to speak. If that appeals to you, please feel free to read and comment your suggestions for future parts.

Parts with NSFW Content are marked! Also some chapters now have AI Audios with links!

(UPDATED May 20 , 2024): 137, 000+ words

MAIN FIC MASTERLIST - INVISIBLE STRING

On AO3 here & Wattpad here

Playlist on Spotify made by @urbansaint !

Part 1: Becoming a Proper Gentlemen (SFW) Audio: X

Part 2: Christmas with the Sallow Family

\_> Chapter 1: Dusty Boots (SFW)

\_> Chapter 2: Admissions (Semi NSFW but mostly SFW)

\_> Chapter 3: Jumper (Semi NSFW but mostly SFW)

\_> Chapter 4: Sugar Plum Fairy (NSFW) Audios: X

\_> Chapter 5: A Locket and a Promise (Mostly SFW) Audios: X

\_> Chapter 6 - Yuletide Cheers (Mostly SFW)

\_> Chapter 7- Birthdays and Hogmanay (NSFW)

Part 3: Stardust (NSFW) - Audios: X, X, X

Part 4: Hero of Hogwarts

\_> Chapter 1: "Leave Me" (SFW)

\_> Chapter 2: Revelations (SFW)

\_> Chapter 3: Graphorns & Phoenix (NSFW) Audio: X

\_> Chapter 4: A Reckoning (SFW) Audio: X

\_> Chapter 5: Repository I (SFW) Audio: X , X (battle)

\_> chapter 6: repository II (SFW) Audio: X

\_> chapter 7: repository III (SFW)

OTHER WORKS:

Farmer Sebastian Series Masterlist : x

Completely separate short fic that's got 14 parts, 50k words!

ONE SHOTS

“Drenched in Magic” 💦 🌕

what happens when MC and Sebastian are running for their lives and he can’t stop flirting even for a second? Even worse what happens when a major mess leads to them needing to clean up in a small pool in the moonlight?

Slight NSFW ; Word count 4K

\_> with audio by @darch7995

“The nose knows” 👃🏻 🧪 💕

What happens when a mixup involving amortentia leads to MC accidentally revealing her crush?

Word count: 4k

\_> with audio by @darch7995

Part 1 ; part 2

“Live, Laugh… Lizard?” 🦎 💋

What happens when a fun outing turns into a slightly frightening experience for MC, and ultimately leads to Sebastian confessing his feelings?

*slight NSFW*

Word count: 4k

\_> with audio by @darch7995

“Strumming Hearts” 🎸 🥃 🚬 (Modern! AU rocker Sebastian)

What happens when MC's friends drag her into a packed night club to see a band she hates purely on principle? She meets a cute guy and in the midst of a miscommunication Sebastian goes far to get the attention of the girl who caught his eye

Word count: 6k

\_> with audio by @darch7995 : Part 1 ; Part 2

“Strumming Hearts II : Mad Sounds” 🎸 🚬 NFSW (Modern! Rocker AU)

In which the freckled guitarist of The Undercroft finds his muse…

Word count : 12k

“That time of year again…” 🎄 💕 NFSW

Sebastian reflects on Christmas’s of old as his holidays worries are put to rest by a sweet love confession, which turns into something more…

Word count : 7k

Sebastian Dad Audios 1 & 2

Brief audios about Sebastian and his life after Hogwarts where he's taking care of his child...

HEADCANONS & MISC

Sebastian, Solomon and Abuse

Random Headcanons with no rhyme or reason

My HC about Sebastian's lip scar, captured by @animasola86

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Aesop Sharp:

"Burning Eyes & Laughter" NFSW

Aesop Sharp meets a new professor whose grumpiness rivals his own. Vignettes throughout the year where he slowly begins to see the truth behind her highly build ways leading to a mix up involving a laughing potion which causes him to see her in a new light...

Audio from story HERE

Word Count: 7k

"My Undeniable Miracle" SFW AUDIO

Aesop narrating John Mark Green's poem with violin in the background

[sallowslutrosie]

MC: Open your mouth! *holds a piece of chocolate*

Sebastian: Wtf, why?

MC: Just open it!

Sebastian: *sighs and does as he’s told*

MC: *Throws chocolate at him but hits his eye*

Sebastian: OW!!!

MC: I’m sorry!! I never said I had good aim. *laughing*



Sebastian: So why’d you do it? Are you trying to get me blind like Ominis??

Ominis: HEY!

(based on ch.11 and someone’s comment that had me dying of laughter)

[aislynn-wiley1999]

The Iliad’s Mystery

TLDR: Slight Sebinis with comparisons to Achilles and Patroclus.

Warnings: Language, mention of sex, mention of alcohol.

This is chapter 4 of “Chained and Locked”. Read and bookmark here on AO3!

Days quickly slipped into a week, and the freedom bestowed upon Ominis and Sebastian was intoxicating to them. Ominis did not have to face his family alone at dinner times, and Sebastian had free reign to do as he wished in a house with endless means and possibilities. Pure bliss was the only way to describe how the two boys felt.

Their day was simple, and similar, every day. Mornings did not start early, and one or both of the boys always had a lie in bed until late morning. Afternoons were for being lazy, roaming and exploring, reading books for enjoyment, lounging in the gardens. Dinner was always tense, but usually only took up ninety minutes of the day. After dinner, the boys were free to sneak liquor and embrace stupidity. Nothing had been better, and nothing seemed like it could top it.

Sebastian was careful to avoid Marvolo’s gallery room, but he still endured glares from the eldest son at dinner. There was an incident that happened, however, on Sebastian’s seventh day in the home. Ominis, in his true fashion, had gone upstairs to his room to take a nap. Sebastian had removed a book from the library and was currently lounging in the gardens, basking in the sun and soaking up tales of Greek gods and monsters.

His mind became utterly lost in the lives of Achilles and Patroclus, and he couldn’t help but wonder what their bond was really like. Patroclus, like Sebastian, had been exiled from his family. Thus, he clung to Achilles with deep affection. Was Ominis Achilles, then? Achilles was meant to be brutal, Patroclus compassionate. That seemed backwards to Sebastian, him being much more brash than Ominis.

The more he thought about it, the more he became confused. The men loved each other, that much was evident. The death of Patroclus brought Achilles into the deepest despair. But what kind of love was it? Were they like brothers? Friends who, due to the Trojan war, secured a bond so deep that they attached themselves to each other? Or were they lovers? Sebastian suspected as much, the way they were portrayed did hint that their love was as much physical as it was mental.

He felt his cheeks grow hot at this thought. Moments before, he had compared himself to Patroclus and Ominis to Achilles, and now he sits and thinks that the two men in the book had to have had a sexual relationship. Sebastian was not Ominis’ tragic lover, bound to him by tragedy and love.

“That’s a good one.”

Sebastian’s eyes jerk up from his book. Marvolo stands over him, ever so slightly blocking the sun where he stands. Sebastian sits up slightly in his seat, determined to feel bigger despite sitting. “I am enjoying it, yes,” he responds, coolly.

Marvolo grins, wickedly as usual. “They die at the end, don’t they?”

Sebastian’s brows cock up ever so slightly, surprised that Marvolo may have actually read the book. “Patroclus does first. Achilles' death has always been somewhat murky, but he does eventually die I suppose.”

“Achilles was in deep despair after Patroclus died.”

“What a riveting observation, Marvolo.”

The Gaunt grins at this. “You may think me an idiot, but I am far too aware of things that you think are oblivious to the world,” he says, pointedly.

Sebastian sighs. “I know you received Ominis’ letter. I know you hid it, or tossed it, or whatever. You are the reason his parents did not know of my arrival.”

“Very good, Sebastian! It always amazes me when people of lesser stature have excellent critical thinking skills. Of course, small pranks between siblings are probably nothing new,” Marvolo says, clapping his hands together once.

“I wouldn’t call what you’ve done ‘small pranks’.”

This causes Marvolo’s face to twist slightly, his smile falling. “What are you implying?”

Sebastian braces himself, looking straight into Marvolo’s eyes. “I don’t think casting the Cruciatus curse on him is a prank,” he says, his voice seething. He doesn’t even need to say Ominis’ name, Marvolo knows.

“Placing blame on me for my brother’s weakness, are you?” Marvolo sneers. “Tell me Sebastian, why is it you have no family to go home to? My brother advocated for you, for your place in our home, yet he mentions your love of the Dark Arts. You have a sister, yes? What does she think of your interests?”

Sebastian glares, unable to come up with an answer right away. Marvolo can see this, and he knows that he has won the conversation. “I look forward to your family troubles resolving. Until then, try not to meddle with my family too much,” he says, a smug grin accompanying the words.

Marvolo turns and walks away swiftly, clearly pleased with himself. Sebastian feels like an idiot, but he is also angry. As soon as Marvolo is gone, he shuts his book and goes back inside the house, heading up to the third floor and into Ominis’ room.

“Wake up!” he says as soon as the door is shut. Ominis, in his slumber, startles quickly and shoots his upper half away from the mattress.

“Wh- what has happened?” the blonde spits out, confused by the sudden harsh wake-up from Sebastian. Rubbing his cheeks, he tries to understand why his friend sounds so angry with him. “Have I done something?”

Sebastian scoffs at this. “Telling your family that I was no longer welcome in mine because of my ‘love for the Dark Arts’? Yes, Ominis, that is something you have done.”

Ominis is shaking his head, his heart pounding. He has seldom experienced Sebastian being angry towards him. If anything, it was normally the other way around. “That was the only way!”

“The only way for what?”

“The only way I could convince them to let you stay here this summer! They were going to throw you out that night!”

Sebastian shuts his mouth, surprised by this. For a moment, the air hangs thick between them. “Why would they care if I was interested in that stuff?”

Ominis grimaces. “My family thinks that you’re a martyr, that you’re misunderstood. They take pity on people who are like them.”

Like them.

Sebastian wonders if Ominis meant to make the comparison. If he meant to compare his friend to the family that tortured him for years. He tries his best not to take it personally, but he does. “Fuck you, Ominis.”

Ominis frowns. “What the hell did you want me to say? ‘Oh, father and mother, take pity on my friend Sebastian. His sister does not want to see him and he has no living adult family members.’ I’m sure that would have convinced them!” he says, becoming just as angry.

In Ominis’ mind, he has done no wrong. He has only embellished the truth to afford Sebastian a summer of luxury and freedom. But he does not say this, as he does not want to rub his family’s wealth into Sebastian’s face while he is angry with him. “What did you want me to tell them? I panicked, and I wanted you here this summer.”

This softens Sebastian’s mind a bit, so much so that he tries to empathize with Ominis on the issue. Surely Ominis was just doing what he could so that Sebastian could stay here. There was no harm really, other than Marvolo’s taunts. He sighs, feeling guilty all at once for his outburst on his friend.

“My pride has eaten at me since I have arrived,” Sebastian suddenly admits, much to Ominis’ surprise. It’s not an apology, but Ominis almost views it as such.

“What are you feeling prideful about?” Ominis asks, gently and carefully.

Sebastian grimaces, unsure at first on how to say it. “I think I have pride in my upbringing. That, even though I did not come from this wealth, I am still capable and intelligent. Your family, I suspect, thinks otherwise.”

This makes Ominis’ heart ache for his friend. His friend, who is perhaps the most clever and ambitious person he knows, feels small among the likes of someone like Marvolo. “My family doesn’t come close to who you are,” he says softly, almost bashfully. But Ominis means this, the affection he has for his friend runs deeper than his affection for anyone else.

“You flatter me,” Sebastian says, grinning. Thoughts of Achilles and Patroclus swirl in his mind, and he pushes them out just as quickly. Glancing down, he realizes he is still clutching the book. “Do we have to prepare for supper shortly?”

“What time is it?”

“Quarter past six.”

Ominis nods. “Yes, let’s prepare then. My father has noted that he and my mother will be gone tomorrow. I suspect they are calling on some people. Anyways, we won’t have to tiptoe around the house, and you can poke around downstairs if you wish.”

“Anything good down there?”

Ominis smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

This causes Sebastian to laugh, which in turn causes Ominis to do the same. The boys sense an ease between them, whiplashed after their argument only minutes before. But that is so often the case with friends; a push and pull of the love we have.

“Ominis?”

Ominis hums in response, waiting for his friend to speak again. Sebastian opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again. “Have you read the Iliad?”

“Yes, once before. It’s a tragic tale, isn’t it?”

“Did you know that your brother had read it?”

Ominis snorts in response. “I’m surprised Marvolo reads anything at all, to be honest. He is less sharp than a spoon.”

Sebastian smiles. “That was a wicked thing to say, Ominis.”

Ominis frowns, a pout playing on his lips. “You’re not serious, are you? My brother is a lost cause when it comes to intelligence. He’s nothing more than a stupid bully with a fancy way of speaking.”

“Thank Merlin you didn’t turn out like that,” Sebastian says, teasing slightly. “You are smart but speak very simply.”

“Sebastian, I do not!”

The brunette laughs at his friends' annoyance, relishing in the simple moments of sarcasm and teasing words. Sebastian’s mind still draws back to Achilles, to Patroclus, to their friendship. He wonders if the words in the book are somehow being absorbed into his body, if somehow they are plaguing his mind.

Across the room, Ominis is recalling what he knows of the Iliad. He is also remembering the story of Achilles and Patroclus who, in Ominis’ mind, were certainly lovers. And the swirling of names is confusing: Achilles, Sebastian, Patroclus. It causes Ominis to stop laughing, to wonder if his thoughts are wrong.

“I am going to get ready for dinner,” he announces suddenly, standing up from the bed in a rush. Sebastian stared at his friend who, either because he had forgotten or because he did not care, had nothing but underwear on. Ominis’ body, slim and pale, was on display.

“I’ll, um, go then. Get ready in my room,” Sebastian says, stumbling through the bathroom as he speaks. He hears Ominis mutter a response, but doesn’t quite catch what it is. There was no reason for Sebastian to feel unsure about seeing him half-naked, it had happened before. They had shared a room for years, Merlin!

But perhaps it was because Ominis was Achilles, and Sebastian was Patroclus. At least, that is what Sebastian thought when reading the book earlier. And perhaps it’s because Sebastian was unsure of why he felt uneasy when he made the comparison of the two of them to the pair of suspected-lovers.

[morelikeravenbore]

🦋 Today marks one year since I published my first chapter of How to Make a Villain and what better way to celebrate than finally letting the bebes have THEIR FIRST OFFICIAL CANON SMOOCH in chapter twenty-two!!

I have many things to say about my solid whole-ass year of publishing but not enough spoons to spoon the words into coherence today, so for now here's what I think might possibly be the best paragraph I've ever written (I SAY THIS AS HUMBLY POSSIBLE BUT I REALLY PUT MY ENTIRE SOUL INTO THIS CHAPTER LOLOL)

Sebastian had always been at the mercy of some power greater than himself: the lure of the Dark Arts, the ceaseless march of Death down every avenue of his life, but never — never — had he been at the mercy of love. Stained though his heart was by Death's inky-black touch, there had always remained a tiny spark therein; a glimmer of hope that drove him forward, urging him toward something he didn't fully understand, some destination that existed not as a name or a coordinate on a map, but as a feeling. A feeling that had always remained vague and undefinable —until he found it living in her.

How to Make a Villain, chapter twenty-two. wattpad | ao3

Writing Villain has been one of the best decisions I've ever made for so many reasons, but especially because it connected me to so many incredible people in this fandom who enrich my life every day. 🫵

[cosmetologynerd]

Invisible String - Sebastian Sallow x FEM!OC

Sebastian Sallow and Abigail Crane agreed that it was best to part ways after the tragic events of their fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. So part ways they did, both set out to pretend that the things they'd experienced together were behind them entirely. But after a year of being apart, a year that most would describe as utterly peaceful, a new mystery seems intent on pulling them back together again- but is that really the worst thing?

Note: Hiiiiiii guys!!!! I have been obsessed with Hogwarts Legacy, like everyone else and it’s brought me out of retirement. I’m obsessed with my boy Sebastian here and I can’t seem to stop writing. The first 14 chapters are live on Wattpad under the same user name if you guys prefer that platform! I hope you enjoy ❤️

THIS STORY WILL HAVE MATURE CONTENT! This includes graphic descriptions of death, torture, and a variety of other experiences. If this may trigger or upset you, please do not read as I do not want to trigger anyone. I will do my best to put trigger warnings on chapters with particularly graphic content but know that it will be throughout the entire story and I won't be headlining chapters with trigger warnings unless it is extremely necessary.

~ Hogwarts Legacy story spoilers, told via flash backs, particularly of the Sebastian Sallow quest line. There will also be spoilers for the main quest line!

~ All characters are aged up as this story is told in 7th year.

~ Abigail Crane (Abbi) is my OC, but you are welcome to read this as a reader insert if it feels better to you!

~ All Hogwarts Legacy characters are owned by Warner Brothers and Avalanche Software! I do not own any characters that you have met in Hogwarts Legacy.

Teaser

Everything hurt. It was the first thing I registered as I woke blearily from a clearly trauma induced haze.

My arms and legs ached from the position they were tied back in, one eye swollen shut from the array of curses that they had thrown at me, throat raw, a small trail of blood flowing freely from my ear. A faint ringing sound filled one ear- though I couldn't pinpoint which- and I hoped I hadn't lost my hearing.

Despite my pain, despite the obvious danger I was in, all I could think about was what they could be doing to him. I had to get to him, had to find him- if he was hurt, it would be my fault. Oh, god, what if he was already dead?

No. He couldn't be dead. I refused to let myself even think about him like that. Not now that I'd finally gotten him back. His brown eyes and freckled face swam in my thoughts, his lips pulled into a smile as he leaned towards me. It was so vivid I had to remind myself he wasn't directly in front of me, had to put myself back in the reality of my situation.

I was here, tied to a chair, being tortured and I had no idea where they were keeping him.

I needed to focus on me.

"What have you done to him?" I rasp out, my voice thick with my own blood, rawness of my throat really pronounced once I spoke.

"He is in much better shape than you," a voice spoke faintly from my left. So that was the ear that was bleeding.

"C'mon now, darling girl, just tell us what we want to know, and this will all be over soon."

His voice sounded familiar to me, but I couldn't pull myself out of my pain induced haze long enough to place him.

"I don't know anything," I said again, the same answer I'd repeatedly told my captors. If I was honest, sure, the pain would stop. But I had a feeling that the pain wouldn't stop because they'd choose to let me go. No, the pain would only stop when I stopped breathing. Until I could confirm he was safe, was out of harms way, I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction.

"Tsk, tsk, little girl. I wish you wouldn't lie to me," the voice said again. It was gravely, thick and accented. I knew I had heard it before.

Someone else shouted out after he spoke, their voice cold and high as they yelled, "Crucio!"

The scream that escaped my lips was the loudest yet. Hot tears streamed down my bloody and grimy cheeks as pain ripped through my body. I was theirs for the killing- wandless and incapable of using my ancient magic.

Instead, this is what they chose to do.

"PLEASE!" I shouted, my body twitching helplessly in the air, bound to the chair and being thrown about like a marionette. "Please, stop this!"

"Then tell me how I can get into that damned room!"

I shook my head again, ready to tell him to just kill me,  when another blast of the Cruciatus curse slammed into me- another scream ripped from my throat, the world spinning before me, and then- I heard a door bang open.

Immediately, the pain I was feeling ended. I no longer felt like my insides were tearing, no longer felt that each limb was being torn from its socket. I took deep ragged breaths trying to blink away my swollen eyes, trying to make sense of the blurry field in front of me.

Loud shouts sounded all around, flashes of red, purple and yellow-gold light flashing behind my swollen shut eyes, curses and counter-curses flying by me. The colors grew brighter and then faded back before slamming into focus again. Clearly, a battle had erupted around me. I slammed into the ground with a thud and smacked my head against the stone floor. Pain ripped through my skull and I cried out again. And then-

"Abbi!"

No! No, no, no, no he shouldn't be here!

I could hear him yelling my name as he ran towards me, dimly recognizing what spells he was sending out around us as he got closer to me. I felt his knees bump into me slightly as he slid across the ground to my side.

There were no more spells flying about, it was quiet, still. I felt the ropes binding me to the iron chair slip off my wrists and ankles and opened my eyes slightly so see him one more time.

"Sebastian," I croak out, my throat even more tender than before. I was able to focus in on his beautiful brown eyes and forced the next words out as my vision greyed out, "Get out of here."

I saw his lips move, but whatever he said to me was lost as the world turned dark.

[myokk]

an afternoon by the black lake🫶🫶🫶

[sunsetplums]

To Be Alone With You

Modern AU where Ominis and Sebastian fall in love and then some.

If Sebastian wasn’t already completely consumed by Ominis, he is now. A lawyer? Ominis is studying fucking law. The revelation sends a thrill through Sebastian, amplifying his fascination tenfold. The idea of Ominis, with his sharp mind and refined presence, arguing cases and winning and helping people and making a respesctable name for himself, is overwhelmingly attractive.

“What kind of law?” Sebastian asks, noticing the glint in Ominis’s eyes as he contemplates the answer, something clearly dear to him.

“Human rights,” Ominis says, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. “I want to make a difference. I want to fight against gender inequality, help with immigration, support LGBTQ rights, shine a light on mental health.”

“Woah,” Sebastian breathes out, almost deadpan.

“What?” Ominis snorts, taking a hefty sip of his drink. It's almost endearing how, when he does, the liquid sloshes through his nose, causing him to cough, his cheeks turning a vivid red. He stumbles slightly, trying to recover, but Sebastian reaches out, steadying him with a firm grip, brave enough to hold on so he doesn’t fall and—

“Are you okay?” Sebastian asks, laughing.

Ominis shakes his head, still catching his breath. “I almost died. That was disgusting, I’m sorry. I promise I don’t often snort drinks out like that.”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian teases. “You seemed quite adept at it, like you do it often.”

“Shut up,” Ominis retorts, aiming a playful smack at Sebastian’s arm, though it lands closer to his chest. “Will you help me find somewhere to sit? I need your tipsy eyes.”

“I’m not tipsy” Sebastian insists, clearing his throat before a genuine, stomach-deep laugh escapes him. “Whatever. I saw a study by the entrance. We can probably go there. I doubt anyone is using it right now. But we’ll have to wade through the drunk crowd. Are you okay with that?”

Ominis reaches out, his fingers finding Sebastian’s arm, wrapping around his elbow. “I have you, don’t I?” he says, glancing up at Sebastian with puppy eyes, and how can Sebastian resist the sheer adorableness in the way Ominis is looking—not looking—at him?

It almost makes him want to reach out and gently brush away the loose strands of hair clinging stubbornly to Ominis’ forehead, where sweat is beginning to pool. Of course, he doesn’t.

Continue reading here!

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Coming Home | Sebastian Sallow x OC #22

After the emotional chaos of the last few chapters, I thought these two could use a softer moment. Let’s be honest, we all know evie will forgive seb because she's a hopeless simp—but don’t worry, he's still got some work left to do.

ALSO this is the last 100% complete chapter in my back log, so updates may be a lil slower moving forward while I revise/edit remaining chapters (sorryy!)💕

Summary: Evangeline visits Feldcroft after an uneasy end to term, reconnecting with Sebastian as he tries to rebuild her trust. Sebastian wrestles with his unspoken love for her while striving to prove he’s worthy of her faith.

Words: TBD I’m posting this from my phone so idk

Tags: Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Unspoken Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Reconciliation, Emotional Vulnerability, Domestic Fluff, Stargazing, Hand-Holding, Soft Confessions, Emotional Tension

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

The summer sun hung low in the sky, painting Feldcroft in golden hues as Sebastian paced the small square in the center of town. The Floo station stood a few feet away, its modest hearth crackling faintly as villagers went about their day, occasionally sparing him a curious glance. He was sure he looked ridiculous—too restless to stand still, his hands alternating between raking through his hair and stuffing themselves into his pockets. But he didn’t care.

It had been nearly two months since he’d seen her.

Their last real conversation had been at the Black Lake in early June, a raw, jagged thing where every word had felt like walking a tightrope over an abyss. They had barely spoken in the weeks that followed, the looming pressure of exams offering an easy excuse to avoid talking about anything of substance. And when summer vacation finally began, she’d been gone before he could even process it—off to stay with their friends, hopping from one house to the next in an attempt to avoid the Fallowmere orphanage.

Since then, Sebastian had spent the summer working tirelessly at the apothecary in Upper Hogsfield, the steady rhythm of brewing potions and stocking shelves providing a temporary reprieve from his restless mind. He tried to convince himself that the tentative bridge he and Evangeline built by the lake hadn’t collapsed under the weight of his guilt, and yet the memory of her tears haunted him. Far too many sleepless nights were spent staring at his bedroom ceiling, wondering if she regretted giving him even a sliver of her trust back.

But now she was here. Or she would be.

Sebastian’s gaze flicked to the Floo again, his heart thrumming with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He could hardly believe he'd invited her; it wasn’t like they’d discussed it. But Sebastian had been reading over Ominis's shoulder during his last visit, and when she’d mentioned, almost offhandedly in her letter, that she hadn’t settled on where to go next, the words had tumbled out of Sebastian's mouth before he could stop them. Feldcroft. Tell her to come to Feldcroft.

And to his surprise—his absolute relief—she’d agreed.

He paused his pacing, glancing up as a flicker of green flames lit the hearth. A knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach, his hands clenching at his sides as he waited. When the fire roared to life and a figure stepped out, small trunk in hand, his breath caught.

She was here.

“Evie,” he said, his voice soft but steady, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She glanced up, her hazel eyes locking with his, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. There was a flicker of something unreadable in her expression—hesitation, maybe—but then her lips curved into a tentative smile.

“Hello, Sebastian.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to send a flood of relief coursing through him. He stepped forward, reaching for her trunk. “Let me—”

“I’ve got it,” she said quickly, gripping the handle tighter. Her voice was light, but he caught the faint edge of discomfort in it. She wasn’t ready for too much, not yet.

He nodded, taking a small step back to give her space. “Right. Well, welcome to Feldcroft. Again.” He winced at his own awkwardness, raking a hand through his hair. “I mean, you know the place already, but—”

She let out a quiet laugh, cutting off his rambling. “Thanks, Sebastian,” she said, her voice softer now, though the wariness hadn’t entirely left her eyes.

He smiled sheepishly, dropping his hand from his hair as a moment of silence stretched between them. Sebastian cleared his throat and gestured toward the path leading out of the square. “Right. Well, let’s get you settled.”

Evangeline adjusted her grip on the trunk and fell into step beside him. The village bustled around them in its unassuming way—shopkeepers chatting, children darting between carts, the occasional sheep wandering too close to the cobblestones before being herded back to the fields.

He stole a glance at her as they walked, her gaze drifting over the thatched roofs and blooming wildflowers that lined the path. Her expression was calm, though there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes—curiosity, maybe, or apprehension. He wasn’t sure.

“Still looks the same,” she said finally, her voice breaking the silence. “But it feels... different without the snow.”

Sebastian smiled faintly. “Yeah, it’s a tad busier in the summer. Kids running though the hills, and the fields are full of sheep instead of frost. A lot less tripping over snowdrifts too.”

Evangeline chuckled softly, the sound tugging at something deep in his chest. “That’s a shame. I remember you taking a rather spectacular tumble the last time we walked this way.”

His lips twitched in a grin. “Spectacular? I slipped once.”

“Twice,” she corrected with a small, teasing smile. “And you nearly took me down with you the second time.”

“Nearly,” he said, tilting his head as if considering. “But I didn’t, did I? I’d call that chivalry.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile lingered on her face, softening her features in a way that made his heart clench. For a moment, the guarded edge she’d carried since stepping out of the Floo seemed to ease, and he found himself clinging to the sight, committing it to memory.

The path curved gently, and Sebastian’s cottage came into view against the backdrop of rolling hills. Suddenly, he felt his stomach twist as they neared, his eyes darting to every imperfection he hadn’t noticed—or had been ignoring—until this very moment.

The wildflowers around the front had grown unruly, spilling over the edges of the narrow stone path. A shutter hung slightly askew, the paint beginning to peel at the edges. And though he’d meant to fix the squeaky hinge on the front gate, it still creaked in protest as he pushed it open.

Evangeline’s gaze swept over the cottage, and Sebastian braced himself, feeling his apprehension build. He wanted her to see it as she had at Christmas—warm, inviting, a reflection of how much effort he’d put in to make it a home. But this wasn’t Christmas. This was summer, and everything felt too bright, too exposed.

“It’s a mess,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I meant to, uh… tidy up the garden. And fix the shutters. And—”

“Sebastian,” she interrupted, her voice soft but firm. He turned to look at her, finding her hazel eyes fixed on the cottage, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, to his surprise, a small, genuine smile curved her lips. “It’s lovely.”

“Lovely?” he echoed, skepticism laced in his tone. He glanced at the wildflowers falling across the path as if to make sure they were still there. “You don’t have to be nice. I know it’s not—”

“I mean it,” she said, her smile widening slightly. “It looks…” She paused, her gaze softening as it swept over the uneven stones, the slightly crooked gate, and the wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. “Cozy."

She wasn’t lying; Sebastian could tell by the way her smile reached her eyes. Slowly, he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re too kind.”

“I’m honest,” she replied lightly, brushing past him to open the front door.

When Evangeline stepped inside, her gaze swept over the familiar room, taking in every detail—the worn armchair by the hearth, the mismatched cushions, and the precariously stacked books that seemed to defy gravity. It all looked exactly as it had during her last visit.

Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched her. She stood still, her fingers brushing absently over the back of the armchair, her gaze soft but distant. She let out a quiet, wistful sigh, and he realized she wasn’t just looking at the cottage—she was stepping back into a memory.

He wondered if her memories of this place felt anything like his. To him, having her back here was like slipping on a favorite jumper, something warm and comforting, worn just enough to feel like home. The time they’d spent together over Christmas had become a refuge in his mind, a place he returned to when the present felt too sharp, too uncertain. Those days had been simple and light, untouched by the jagged edges of regret and guilt.

Was it the same for her? Did she hold those moments as close as he did?

The question gnawed at him, and before he could stop himself—before he could second-guess the words—they slipped out, soft and unguarded.

“I missed you.”

The sound of his own voice startled him, and he saw her freeze, her fingers stilling against the armchair. For a heartbeat, the room felt impossibly still, the weight of his confession hanging in the air like something fragile and unspoken.

Sebastian opened his mouth, ready to backtrack, to brush it off as nothing more than a casual remark. But then Evangeline turned to look at him, her eyes locking onto his. Her gaze was steady, searching, as though she could see straight through the mask he so often wore, straight to the raw truth beneath.

Slowly, she let out a breath, the tension in her shoulders easing as her lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

“Me too,” she admitted quietly.

Sebastian’s chest tightened, the quiet honesty of her words hitting him like a spell cast point-blank. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—if he’d expected anything at all—but hearing her say it, admitting she’d felt the same ache he had, was more than he deserved. And yet, it made the small ember of hope in his chest burn just a little brighter.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the quiet between them filling with all the things they couldn’t quite say. Then Sebastian pushed off the doorframe, clearing his throat. “I wasn’t sure you’d say yes. To coming here, I mean.”

She tilted her head, studying him with that same perceptive gaze. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He let out a dry laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “Because of me. Because of everything I—” He stopped, shaking his head as his throat tightened. “You’d have every reason not to.”

Evangeline looked at him for a long moment before letting out a soft laugh, “If I didn’t want to be here, Sebastian,” she said gently, “I wouldn’t have come.”

Her words settled over him like a balm, soothing the jagged edges of his nerves. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as he gestured toward the narrow hallway. “I, uh, put clean sheets on your bed and cleared some room in the wardrobe for you."

Evangeline’s lips curved faintly, and she hefted her trunk with a small nod. “Thank you.”

Sebastian stepped aside, letting her pass as she moved down the narrow hallway. He followed a few paces behind, his hands sliding into his pockets as he watched her take in her surroundings.

When Evangeline stepped into the room, she paused, her hazel eyes sweeping over the space. It was small but inviting, the soft light from the evening sun filtering through the lacy curtains that fluttered faintly in the breeze. Her gaze settled on the bedside table, where a simple vase of wildflowers—delicate purples and whites—stood quietly against the rustic wooden surface.

She approached it, setting her trunk at the foot of the bed as her fingers brushed one of the petals. “You’ve been busy,” she murmured, her voice soft.

Sebastian lingered in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he studied her reaction. “Figured it needed a bit of color,” he said, his shrug casual, though there was a hint of nerves in his tone. “Didn’t want you thinking I’ve forgotten how to be a decent host.”

Evangeline’s lips quirked into a small smile, her fingers still lightly tracing the petals. “Well,” she said, her voice adopting a teasing edge as she glanced at him over her shoulder, “back at Leander’s party, you did say you’d be getting me flowers. You know… to make me ‘fall in love with you.’”

Sebastian froze. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. The tips of his ears flushed a faint pink, and he cleared his throat, the ghost of a laugh escaping him as he leaned more heavily against the doorframe, crossing his arms as if to steady himself.

“Well,” he drawled, recovering quickly, his grin slow and slightly crooked, “I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

Evangeline turned fully to face him, her smile widening as she chuckled softly. “You certainly took your time.”

“Had to make sure they were perfect,” he shot back smoothly, gesturing toward the vase with a slight tilt of his head. “Only the best for you.”

There was a playful lilt to his voice, but his gaze lingered on her a fraction longer than it should have, the teasing replaced by something softer.

If Evangeline caught it, she didn't let on. Instead, she stepped closer to the vase, her smile fading into something quieter, more sincere. “They are perfect,” she said, her voice softer now. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

His smirk faltered, expression shifting into something gentler. For a moment, he just watched her, the gratitude in her voice settling somewhere deep in his chest. “You’re welcome,” he said.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was weighted, heavy with the things they hadn’t yet said. Sebastian shifted his stance, clearing his throat as he straightened. “Right, well... I’ll let you settle in. Dinner’s in a bit. Thought we could eat outside—it’s a nice evening.”

“That sounds lovely,” Evangeline replied, turning back to her trunk and busying herself with unpacking. “I’ll be out soon.”

Sebastian closed the door to her room quietly, leaning against the wall of the hallway for a moment as he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She was here. Not just a fleeting letter or a hesitant conversation in passing, but here, in his home again.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to focus. Don’t mess this up, Sallow. The voice in his head wasn’t Ominis’s this time, but his own, sharp and unrelenting. She had every reason not to trust him, to keep him at arm’s length, and yet she’d chosen to come. That was something, wasn’t it?

Pushing off the wall, he headed for the kitchen, his thoughts spiraling as he pulled ingredients from the cupboards. He had planned ahead—more than he cared to admit—but now it all felt inadequate. The chicken he’d marinated earlier, the garden vegetables he’d picked that morning, the loaf of bread from the village baker—it was simple, too simple, wasn’t it?

He set the cutting board on the counter with more force than necessary, cursing under his breath. This isn’t a 5 star wizarding restaurant, you idiot. You don’t have to make it perfect. But the thought didn’t ease the tight knot in his chest.

Cooking had always been a way to keep his hands busy, his mind focused. When Anne had still been here, it had been his way of helping, of trying to make things easier for her when their lives had been anything but. She used to tease him for his attempts to recreate their mum’s recipes, but she’d always smiled when he succeeded. And when she didn’t smile... well, those nights had taught him to get better.

His hands moved automatically, peeling, slicing, seasoning. The rhythm of it settled something in him, though the nervous energy lingered just beneath the surface. Evangeline didn’t know this side of him, yet. She’d seen his recklessness, his impulsiveness, his sharp edges—but not this. This part of him was quieter, steadier. Softer, maybe.

Sebastian shook his head, letting out a dry laugh as he tossed the vegetables into a pan. Softer. That wasn’t the word he wanted her to associate with him. He wanted her to see him as strong, dependable, someone who could protect her. Someone she could trust again.

But the truth was, he wasn’t sure how she saw him now.

His gaze flicked to the door, half-expecting her to wander in. He could imagine her leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with that curious tilt of her head. She’d probably laugh at the idea of him cooking—Sebastian Sallow, who could duel circles around anyone in their year, standing over a pan of roasted vegetables.

The thought brought a faint smile to his lips, though it faded quickly as doubt crept back in. What if tonight wasn’t enough? What if she was only here because she didn’t want to say no? What if she was already counting the days until she left again?

Sebastian set the knife down with a frustrated sigh, gripping the edge of the counter as his head dropped forward. Stop overthinking it. He’d promised her he’d prove himself, and that’s exactly what he was going to do—one small moment at a time, if that’s what it took.

The chicken came out of the oven, the bread onto a board, the vegetables plated with precision that bordered on obsessive. He worked in silence, letting the familiar motions ground him, until the table outside was set, the food arranged neatly in the center.

He stood back for a moment, wiping his hands on his trousers as he surveyed his work. The whole scene was… inviting. Not perfect, but good enough. He hoped.

Sebastian turned toward the cottage just as he heard the soft creak of the door opening. His heart skipped when he saw Evangeline step out. She had changed into something more comfortable—a light, flowy dress that he’d never seen her wear before. The fabric moved softly with the evening breeze, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring.

She was still the Evie he’d known for years—familiar in every way that mattered—but in the two months they’d been apart, it was as if something had shifted. He couldn’t put it into words—wasn’t even sure if he wanted to try—but the girl he’d known, the one he’d teased and laughed with and leaned on, had somehow become a woman. A breathtakingly beautiful one.

His gaze trailed over her full figure, taking in the way the dress skimmed her plush hips and accentuated her soft shape. Her shoulders, bare beneath the thin straps, caught the last light of the sun, and he couldn’t help but notice the delicate curve of her collarbone, the way it led to her neckline.

There was a quiet maturity in the way she carried herself now, an unspoken grace that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t just her body—though Merlin knew his eyes kept flickering to her hips and her waist and her chest—it was everything about her. She was radiant.

Sebastian’s mouth went dry when she glanced at him, her hazel eyes soft and curious. She caught him staring, and for a split second, he thought about looking away, but he couldn’t. The way she tilted her head, the faint smile that played at her lips—it was like she was seeing straight through him.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

Sebastian blinked, his heart stuttering as he scrambled for something to say. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look anywhere but at her. “Just… making sure everything’s ready.”

She smiled, stepping closer to the table and glancing at the spread he’d laid out. “This looks incredible,” she said, her fingers brushing the edge of the table as she looked back at him. “I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

Sebastian tried to play it off, shrugging as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I mean, I didn't want you to think I invited you here just to starve you."

Evangeline let out a soft laugh, the sound like a balm to Sebastian’s nerves. “Well, I appreciate it. It smells amazing,” she said, her gaze lingering on the table before flicking back to him. “I think I might actually be impressed, Sebastian.”

“Careful,” he teased, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t go raising your expectations too high. I’m not trying to set a precedent here.”

She smirked, “I think it’s a little late for that. Between this and the flowers, you might actually convince me you’re good at this whole hosting thing.”

Sebastian’s grin faltered slightly as her words settled over him. He wanted her to feel welcome, to feel cared for, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her tone that reminded him just how much had changed between them. He didn’t want this to feel like some elaborate performance to win her back—he wanted it to feel real. Genuine. Like it had always been.

“Well, don’t go telling anyone,” he said lightly, “Can’t have the word getting out that I’ve gone soft.”

Evangeline chuckled again as she sat down, smoothing her dress over her lap. Her gaze swept over the spread, her hazel eyes softening as she took it all in. “This... is really wonderful,” she said quietly.

Sebastian’s chest tightened at her words, the sincerity in her voice catching him off guard. He forced himself to sit down across from her, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his napkin as he tried to find something to say.

She took her first bite, her eyes widening slightly as the flavors hit her tongue. “Okay, I take it back,” she said, her voice tinged with playful awe. “This is more than impressive. This is… really good.”

Sebastian relaxed a little, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Years of practice,” he admitted. “Anne had her favorites, and I got tired of hearing her complain when I burned something. Figured I’d better learn to do it properly.”

Evangeline’s smile softened, a flicker of something warmer passing through her eyes. “That’s… sweet,” she said, her voice quieter now. "Guess you're still full of surprises."

Sebastian felt his grin waver for a moment, her words hitting a place in his chest that made his heart ache and swell all at once. Surprises. He wasn’t sure if she meant it as a compliment or an observation, but the way she said it—soft, almost thoughtful—made him want to be better, to live up to whatever faint glimmer of hope she still saw in him.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the edge of the table, “stick around, and I might just have a few more up my sleeve.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the clinking of cutlery and the distant hum of crickets filling the air. The sun sank lower on the horizon, casting the garden in a dusky orange glow, and Sebastian found himself stealing glances at her as they ate. She looked relaxed, her shoulders no longer tight with unease, and it made him wonder if, maybe, he’d done something right for once.

“You must miss her,” Evangeline said suddenly, breaking the quiet. Her voice was soft, tentative, as if she wasn’t sure she should have said it.

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t need to ask who she meant. His throat tightened, and he set his fork down slowly, his gaze dropping to his plate. “Every day,” he admitted, his voice low.

Evangeline’s expression softened, her hand stilling where it had been tracing the rim of her glass. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head as he looked back at her. “It’s fine. Really. I… I like talking about her. Sometimes I think it’s the only way to keep her close, you know?”

She nodded, her hazel eyes steady on his, and for a moment, he thought she might say something more. Instead, she reached for her glass, taking a small sip before setting it down again.

“You know,” Sebastian said after a moment, his tone lighter now, “she used to say I was hopeless. Always burning things or forgetting ingredients.” He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “She had this way of looking at me like I was the world’s biggest idiot, but then she’d sit there and eat every bite anyway.”

Evangeline smiled, a quiet laugh escaping her. “That sounds about right,” she said, her voice soft and warm. Then she paused, her expression turning thoughtful as she toyed with the edge of her napkin.

“In her last letter,” she began carefully, her gaze flicking up to meet his, “She said her pain trials at St. Mungo’s are going really well.”

Sebastian froze, his fork hovering mid-air as her words sank in. He placed it down slowly, his fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. “She did?” he asked, his voice quiet but threaded with cautious hope.

Evangeline nodded, her hazel eyes watching him closely. “She... she wrote that the pain isn’t as constant as it used to be. She’s sleeping better. Even managing some light activities without too much discomfort.”

Sebastian let out a shaky breath as the knot in his chest began to loosen. He pressed a hand to his forehead, his mind racing. “That’s… that’s amazing,” he murmured, his voice almost disbelieving.

Evangeline hesitated before speaking again, her voice gentler this time. “She mentioned you, too.”

Sebastian’s head shot up, his brown eyes widening. “She did?”

“She said…” Evangeline paused, choosing her words carefully. “She said she misses you. She wanted me to tell you."

Sebastian froze, his breath catching in his throat. The words hung in the air, heavy and disarming, as if they didn’t belong to the reality he’d been living in for the past year. His brown eyes searched Evangeline’s face, desperate to confirm she wasn’t just saying it to make him feel better.

“She… she really said that?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Evangeline nodded, her expression steady but soft, as though she knew how much weight her words carried. “She did. It wasn’t easy for her to admit, I think. But it was there, in her letter—clear as day. I'll let you read it when we're back inside."

Sebastian sat back in his chair, staring at Evangeline as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, as the words swirled in his mind. She misses you. He couldn’t reconcile it, not with everything that had happened, not with the way he’d all but destroyed the connection he and Anne once had.

“You’d really let me read it?” he asked finally, his voice quiet, almost cautious. His gaze searched hers for any sign of hesitation, but Evangeline’s expression was unwavering.

She nodded. “Of course. I know how much she means to you, Sebastian.”

The tightness in his chest shifted, replaced by something fragile and warm, like a thread of hope pulling taut. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to steady his voice. “I—thank you. Really.”

Evangeline offered him a small smile, her fingers idly smoothing the edge of the napkin in her lap. “I think she’s starting to come around,” she said gently. “She’s still angry, but that doesn’t mean she’s forgotten you. And… she wants you to know that.”

Sebastian let out a long as his gaze wandered upward, settling on the faint stars beginning to peek through the dusky sky. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the faint flicker of hope Evangeline’s words had ignited. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to steady him.

The silence lingered, warm and comfortable, until he glanced back at her. Evie's expression was thoughtful as she toyed with the edge of her napkin, her hazel eyes catching the fading light of the evening. He felt a smile tug at his lips before he realized it.

“So,” he said, breaking the quiet, “you’ve been all over this summer. Hopping from one friend’s house to another. What’s it like, being so popular?”

Evangeline’s head tilted, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “Popular? Hardly,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It was more… opportunistic.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I just didn’t want to go back to Fallowmere, and everyone kept offering. Natty, Nellie, even Imelda."

“Imelda?” Sebastian said, his brows shooting up. “You stayed with Reyes? Let me guess, she made you listen to endless recaps of her Quidditch matches?”

“Endless,” Evangeline confirmed with a grin.

Sebastian snorted, shaking his head. “You’re lucky she didn’t make you do drills in her garden.”

“She tried,” Evangeline admitted, her smile widening. “But no, it was good staying with her. Busy, loud… exactly what I needed after everything.”

Sebastian’s smile softened as he watched her, his gaze lingering. “And what about Natty?” he asked. “I imagine staying with her was more… structured.”

E Evangeline nodded, her expression softening as a faraway look crept into her eyes. “It was. Her mum was very welcoming, though. And Natty—she’s just so good at making you feel at home. We spent a lot of time walking and talking. She’s… wise in ways I’ll never be.”

Sebastian hummed absently, though his stomach churned at the memory of Natsai Onai and the “conversation” they’d had just before the end of last term. His mind wandered briefly to the library, where she’d found him loitering behind a towering shelf, clearly trying to avoid her.

She hadn’t given him a choice.

With a startling amount of strength for her petite frame, Natty had grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out to the courtyard before he could even protest. Her calm exterior had been more terrifying than if she’d been shouting. The tension in her jaw, the barely contained fire in her eyes—Sebastian had faced curses and duels, but nothing had prepared him for that.

She hadn’t raised her voice once.

Instead, she’d quietly and methodically eviscerated him, her words hitting harder than any spell could have. Her disappointment in him, her anger at his behavior at Leander’s party—particularly how it had hurt Evangeline—was laid bare in brutal clarity.

“You are supposed to be her friend, Sebastian,” she’d said, her voice like ice. “Instead, you chose to act selfishly, carelessly, and worse—publicly humiliate her.”

By the end of it, he’d felt small, like a first-year caught cheating in Charms. Natty hadn’t demanded an apology; she’d merely stared him down until he’d stammered out something resembling contrition. Even now, the memory made him want to crawl under a rock.

Sebastian shook the thought off and forced himself to meet Evangeline’s gaze again. “Yeah, Natty’s… definitely wise,” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt as if he could still feel her iron grip. He quickly changed the subject, “And what about Nellie? Please tell me you didn’t let her rope you into one of her… experiments.”

Evangeline groaned, rolling her eyes. “She tried. Merlin, did she try. Something about levitating candles for hours so she could prove they lasted longer than regular ones.”

Sebastian laughed again, shaking his head. “Classic Nellie.”

“She’s brilliant,” Evangeline admitted, her tone warm. “A little chaotic, but brilliant. It was fun, though. Her family is so… big and warm. A little overwhelming at times, but in a good way.”

“And now you’re here,” Sebastian said, his tone quieter now. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he met her gaze. “What’s that like?”

Evangeline’s hazel eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite name. “It’s…” she hesitated, her gaze drifting past him for a moment as if she were searching for the right words. Then, finally, she drew a quiet breath and looked back at him. "It's like coming home."

Sebastian’s breath caught at her words, his chest tightening in a way that was both unexpected and painfully familiar. Home. The word hung in the air between them, impossibly heavy and impossibly soft, carrying more weight than she probably realized. Or maybe she did. Maybe that was why she’d hesitated before saying it.

Evangeline’s hazel eyes met his, steady but tinged with something vulnerable, as if she wasn’t sure how he would respond. She had never admitted something like this before—not to him, not to anyone. She’d grown up in a place that was safe at best and cold at worst, the kind of place that housed you but never embraced you. The kind of place that made you wonder if home was a real thing, or just something other people got to have.

And now she was sitting here, across from him, calling this—his home—hers, too.

Sebastian leaned back slightly, his forearms slipping from the edge of the table as he let the words sink in. The crackle of crickets in the garden and the faint rustle of the breeze filled the quiet, but he barely noticed.

“I…” He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "Well... you'll always have a home here, Evie."

For a moment, her eyes flickered, and he thought he saw the beginnings of something tender in her gaze, something raw and unspoken. But then, as though suddenly realizing what she’d admitted, she shifted, her walls snapping back into place. He recognized the faint tension in her shoulders, the way she straightened just slightly, as though bracing herself.

She glanced down at her empty plate and began to gather it up, her movements quick and efficient. “Well it's getting dark... we should clean this up,” she said lightly, as if they hadn’t just shared a moment that would be carved into his memory for years to come.

Sebastian didn’t press. He knew better than to push when she wasn’t ready, and truthfully, he wasn’t discouraged. Everything that had happened so far—the way she’d smiled, the quiet sincerity of her words, the fact that she was here at all—was more than he’d dared to hope for.

He stood, grabbing the remaining plates and following her inside. And without speaking, they fell into step with each other, moving around the small kitchen like two pieces of a puzzle that still fit perfectly together.

Evangeline started rinsing the plates while Sebastian fetched the dishcloth and a drying rack. It was a rhythm they had built months ago, during those quiet days over Christmas, and falling back into it now felt as natural as breathing. Neither of them commented on it, but he caught the faintest curve of her lips as she handed him a plate to dry.

The soft clink of dishes and the gentle rush of water filled the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt… right. Like all the tension and uncertainty of the past few months had been stripped away.

Sebastian couldn’t help stealing glances at her as they worked. The way the soft glow of the lamplight played across her face, the way her lashes cast delicate shadows against her cheeks. She didn’t look at him, but her posture had relaxed again, and he took that as a small victory.

When the last dish was dried and set neatly on the rack, Evangeline wiped her hands on a towel and turned to him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Not bad,” she said, her voice light. “I’d forgotten how efficient we are.”

Sebastian grinned, leaning against the counter. “Yeah," he stretched out the word, "Though I’d argue I did most of the heavy lifting.”

Evangeline raised a brow, her smile turning teasing. “Oh, absolutely. Drying dishes is the pinnacle of effort.”

“Someone has to do it,” he replied with a shrug.

She chuckled, shaking her head as she hung the towel neatly on the hook by the sink. “Well, I think we’ve earned some time to relax.”

Sebastian nodded, pushing off the counter as they both headed down the hall. Without even discussing it, they each retreated to their respective rooms to change, another echo of the easy routine they’d built during her last visit.

When Sebastian emerged a few minutes later, now in an old T-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, he found Evangeline already curled up on the sofa, a book in hand.

She seemed entirely absorbed, her hazel eyes scanning the page with quiet focus, but the corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly as if she were reading something amusing.

He paused in the doorway for a moment, the sight of her stirring something warm and bittersweet in his chest. It was like stepping back into one of those evenings over Christmas, the two of them sharing the same space with an ease that had felt almost too good to last. And yet, here they were.

Clearing his throat softly, Sebastian stepped further into the room. “You know, you could've raided my bookshelves if you wanted something more exciting.”

Evangeline looked up, her lips curving into a small, teasing smile. “And what would you suggest, Hogwarts: A History? Or maybe something on dueling techniques?” She gestured to the book in her hand. “This, for your information, is plenty exciting.”

Sebastian tilted his head, squinting at the cover. "Mansfield Park?"

Evangeline’s teasing smile widened as she raised the book slightly, tilting it for him to see. "It’s really good."

Sebastian snorted, stepping closer to drop onto the other end of the sofa. "Another Jane Austen book, eh? You always go for stories with so much pining and repressed feelings.”

Evangeline laughed softly, closing the book just enough to mark her place with her finger. “And what exactly is wrong with pining and repressed feelings?” she asked, her tone light but tinged with curiosity.

Sebastian leaned back, propping his feet up on the worn coffee table. “It’s frustrating,” he said with a sigh. “All that build-up, all those stolen glances, and then half the time, they don’t even end up saying what they really feel until the last page. Feels like torture.”

Evangeline arched a brow, her teasing smile softening. “You’d prefer something more straightforward, then? What—two characters meet, confess their feelings in the first chapter, and spend the rest of the book being sickeningly happy?”

Sebastian shrugged, crossing his arms behind his head. “Wouldn’t hurt to cut out all the unnecessary drama. Saves everyone some trouble.”

“Unnecessary drama,” Evangeline echoed, her tone dry but amused. She leaned back against the sofa, angling her body slightly toward him. “Coming from you, that’s rich.”

He gave her a pointed look, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. "I’ve seen you turn a stubbed toe into a near-death experience.”

Sebastian scoffed, sitting up a little straighter. “That was one time. And for the record, it wasn’t a stubbed toe—it was a fractured toe.”

Evangeline laughed, the sound light and melodic, filling the room like warmth spreading through the space. “Sure it was,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And I suppose the world nearly ended because of it?”

“Nearly,” he said, smirking now. “But luckily, I’m resilient. A survivor, really.”

She smirked but didn’t respond, her focus returning to the book in her hands. For a moment, the only sounds were the faint crackle of the hearth and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. Sebastian’s gaze drifted over her, watching the way her fingers absentmindedly turned the pages, her posture relaxing as she became engrossed again.

Finally, curiosity got the better of him. “Alright,” he said, leaning forward and nodding at the book. “What’s all the fuss about?”

Evangeline looked up, arching a brow. “Fuss?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, gesturing lazily. “This book—What’s so great about it?”

She laughed, tucking her legs beneath her. “You wouldn't get it.”

“Try me,” he said, smirking.

Evangeline hesitated, her hazel eyes narrowing as if she were trying to gauge whether or not he was being serious. Then, with an air of exasperation, she held the book out to him. “Fine. But you’d better not make fun of it.”

Sebastian took the book with a dramatic flourish, flipping through the pages with exaggerated curiosity. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to give this the reverence it deserves.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes but smiled. “Start where I left off—it’s marked.”

He found the spot and settled back, clearing his throat with an overly formal air. “Alright, let’s see… had Sir Thomas applied to his daughter within the first three or four days after Henry Crawford's leaving Mansfield, before her feelings were at all tranquilised, before she had given up every hope of him, or absolutely resolved on enduring his rival, her answer might have been different."

Sebastian stopped, lifting his gaze from the page with a bemused expression. "Alright, I already need context. Who’s Sir Thomas, and why does this Henry bloke have a rival? Is this another love triangle?”

Evangeline laughed softly, shaking her head. “Just keep reading."

Sebastian sighed dramatically but returned to the page. "Her answer might have been different; but, after another three days, when there was no longer anything new to agitate her spirits…” He paused, squinting at the sentence. “And her thoughts became quietly fixed on the father and the son, their merits and their situations…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Is she deciding between Henry and Edmund? Are they both in love with her?”

Evangeline sighed, though there was a trace of amusement in her expression. “It’s not as simple as that. Fanny’s loved Edmund all along, but Henry—well, he’s charming, but she doesn’t trust him.”

Sebastian tilted his head, processing her explanation. “So, Edmund’s the good guy, but he’s oblivious? And Henry’s the one stirring up trouble?”

“Exactly,” she said, her smile widening. “See? You’re getting the hang of it. Now go on." he urged, settling more deeply into the sofa, her head resting against the cushion.

Sebastian huffed a quiet laugh but obliged, turning the page and letting the story unfold. Time slipped by unnoticed, the words spilling effortlessly from his lips as Evangeline listened, her body sinking deeper into the cushions.

When he finally paused, his throat dry, he glanced down at her again. Her breathing was slow and even, and her head had tilted slightly to the side, her expression serene. For a moment, he wondered if she’d fallen asleep, the sight tugging something warm and fragile in his chest.

“Evie?” he asked softly.

She hummed, her eyes fluttering open but staying half-lidded. “Still here,” she mumbled, her voice drowsy.

Sebastian grinned, setting the book down beside him. “You’re dangerously close to making me think you like this.”

Evangeline chuckled sleepily, stretching her legs out. “I might be reconsidering your talents.”

Her eyes fluttered closed again as she nestled deeper into the cushions. A faint smile played at her lips, and for a moment, Sebastian thought she might have drifted off entirely.

But when he murmured some joke about his reading being the only reason she enjoyed his company, she hummed in response. Then, in a voice so soft it was barely above a whisper, she said, “I’ve always enjoyed your company.”

Sebastian’s breath caught, his smirk faltering as her words settled over him. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t look at him—like the admission had slipped past her usual defenses in the haze of her exhaustion. And yet, it hit him squarely in the chest, a quiet, unexpected truth that left him momentarily speechless.

He turned his gaze toward the hearth, the faint glow of the fire casting warm shadows across the room. The silence stretched between them, comfortable and fragile all at once, until Evangeline’s breathing evened out completely.

She was asleep.

Sebastian let out a soft, wry laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he glanced back at her. Her head had tilted to rest against the arm of the sofa, her dark hair spilling over the cushion like a curtain. She looked peaceful, more relaxed than he’d seen her in months, and the sight stirred something deep and unshakable in him.

Careful not to wake her, he reached for the knitted throw draped over the back of the sofa, unfolding it quietly. He hesitated for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest, before draping it gently over her. His fingers lingered on the edge of the blanket, the temptation to brush a strand of hair from her face almost overwhelming.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he leaned back again, his head tipping against the worn cushion as he let out a slow breath. He knew full well he’d regret it come morning—the stiff ache in his neck was already a foregone conclusion—but the thought of moving, of leaving this moment, felt impossible.

Evangeline was here, just an arm’s length away, her breathing soft and steady as she dozed. The fire in the hearth crackled faintly, its glow flickering across her face, and Sebastian was utterly transfixed. Her features, so familiar yet somehow softer in sleep, stirred a strange ache in his chest—warm and tender and just a little bit painful.

He’d spent so many nights before her arrival imagining this moment, but none of his idle dreams had come close to the reality. The way her hair fell in loose waves across the cushion, the faint curve of her lips, the quiet trust in the way she’d allowed herself to fall asleep here—it all felt so achingly precious that he was half-convinced he’d wake up and find it gone.

He knew he didn’t deserve this—not yet. After everything he’d done, everything he’d put her through, the fact that she was here at all was nothing short of a miracle.

And yet, here she was. And Merlin, she was beautiful.

Sebastian’s lips quirked into a faint, rueful smile as he let out a soft chuckle under his breath. “Hopeless,” he muttered to himself, the word barely audible over the faint crackle of the fire. That’s what he was—utterly, irredeemably hopeless when it came to her.

The fire began to dim, the warm glow fading into soft embers, and the room grew quieter, the shadows stretching longer across the walls. His head tilted slightly to the side, his body settling deeper into the cushions as sleep began to claim him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sebastian Sallow dreamed of nothing but warmth and home.

~

The first thing Sebastian noticed when he woke was the stiffness in his neck. The second thing he noticed was the blanket draped over him.

He frowned, blinking groggily as his fingers brushed the soft fabric. It was the same throw he’d used to cover Evangeline last night. He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face as he pieced it together. She must have woken up at some point, seen him sprawled here like an idiot, and decided to return the favor.

His lips twitched into a faint smile as he let his head fall back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling for a moment. He wasn’t sure how it was possible to feel so content and so ridiculous at the same time.

The sound of soft humming drifted from the kitchen, light and melodic, pulled him out of his thoughts. He sat up slowly, the blanket slipping from his shoulders as his curiosity piqued. Evangeline’s voice—it was unmistakable, though she wasn’t exactly singing. It was more absentminded, a gentle tune that seemed to have no real path.

He rubbed the last remnants of sleep from his eyes before glancing toward the kitchen. And then he froze.

Evangeline was standing by the counter, the kettle steaming gently as she reached for a tin of tea leaves. Her back was to him, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, and she was barefoot on the wooden floor.

And that’s when Sebastian realized.

She wasn’t wearing the pajama bottoms she’d worn last night. Nor the same top. In fact, the shirt she had on looked suspiciously like one of his own. It hugged her shoulders but hung loosely everywhere else, just barely covered her. The hem swayed as she shifted her weight, exposing far more of her thighs than Sebastian had ever seen.

He swallowed hard, heat rushing to his face as his gaze darted away. His heart gave a sharp, startled thud against his ribs, and he clenched his jaw, trying to steady himself. Merlin’s beard, Sallow, pull yourself together.

But his eyes betrayed him, flickering back to her as she continued humming, blissfully unaware of his presence. He’d seen her in a hundred different moments—storming into battle without hesitation, laughing with friends, leaning over a potion station with that focused furrow of her brow—but this was different. This was… intimate.

There was something so effortlessly domestic about the scene—her moving around his kitchen, preparing tea as if she belonged there—that it left him stunned.

Then she turned slightly, reaching for a mug, and the motion made the hem of her shirt ride up just a fraction higher, and Sebastian’s heart pounded as he caught the faintest glimpse of her face. Panic surged through him. Maybe I’m not supposed to see this. Maybe she doesn’t realize I’m awake.

Without thinking, he slumped back against the cushions and let his head fall to the side, squeezing his eyes shut in a hasty attempt to feign sleep. The blanket still draped across his lap helped sell the image, though he cursed inwardly at how unnatural his breathing suddenly felt.

The sound of her soft humming stopped, and he held his breath, listening to her movements as she shuffled in the kitchen. A cupboard opened, then closed. Liquid poured into a mug. Then another. The soft clink of a teaspoon stirring followed, each sound louder against the quiet morning air.

Sebastian willed himself not to peek, but it took every ounce of restraint he had. He wasn’t sure why this moment felt so precarious, so fragile. Maybe it was because she looked so unguarded, so at ease, and the thought of disrupting that made something tighten in his chest.

He heard her footsteps—barely more than a soft padding on the wooden floor—drawing closer. Is she…?

Then they paused, and for a moment, he wondered if she’d caught him. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he fought to keep his breaths slow and even.

“You’re such a liar,” Evangeline’s voice broke the silence, light and teasing. “I know you’re awake, Sebastian.”

His eyes flew open, heat flooding his face as he turned to look at her. She stood just a few feet away, a mug in her hands, one eyebrow arched in amusement. The corners of her mouth twitched in a knowing smile, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Sebastian groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Merlin’s sake, how did you know?”

Evangeline’s smile widened as she shrugged. “You were doing that thing where you breathe like you’re auditioning to play dead. It’s not very convincing.”

Sebastian let out a laugh despite himself, sitting up fully and rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. Guilty as charged.” His gaze flickered to the mug in her hands, eager to latch onto any distraction. “Is that tea for me, or…?”

“It could be,” she said, her tone playfully ambiguous. “If you’re nice.”

He smirked, pushing himself to sit upright, “Nice? I’m always nice.”

Evangeline tilted her head, her gaze meeting his with a skeptical expression. “Sure you are,” she said lightly, holding the mug out to him.

Their fingers brushed as he took it, and for a moment, the teasing between them faded, replaced by a quiet warmth. Sebastian swallowed, his grip tightening on the mug as he forced himself to focus on something—anything—other than the shockingly naked expanse of her legs and the fact that she was definitely wearing one of his shirts.

“Thanks,” he said softly, his voice lacking its usual edge of sarcasm.

Evangeline smiled, her gaze flickering away briefly before she stepped back toward the kitchen to retrieve her own mug. “I figured you could use it. The way you were sleeping looked... uncomfortable.”

“It was,” Sebastian admitted, rising from the couch and following her to the counter. “But, you know, worth it. For the company.” He leaned against the counter, watching as she moved about with easy confidence, still barefoot, still wearing that damn shirt that sent his thoughts spiraling if he looked for too long.

She shot him a look over her shoulder, her smile softening. “You didn’t have to stay out here, you know. You could’ve gone to bed.”

He shrugged, taking a sip of tea to buy himself a moment. “Didn’t feel right, leaving you out here on your own.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, "Learning from past mistakes, are we?"

Sebastian winced as though she'd pushed on a fresh bruise. His grip on the mug tightened, his shoulders stiffening as guilt bubbled to the surface.

“Evie,” he started, his voice low, but she cut him off.

“Relax,” she said, turning her back to him as she busied herself with tidying the counter. “It’s just a joke.” Then, without looking back at him, she added lightly, “Guess there weren’t any girls around this time for you to leave me for.”

Her words were casual, almost flippant, but they cut through him like a blade. Sebastian froze, his grip on the mug tightening until his knuckles turned white. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Because he certainly deserved that.

Evangeline didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed her mug and took a quick sip, her posture too relaxed to be genuine. “I should get dressed,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Don’t want to scandalize the sheep.”

The joke was so absurd, so pointedly deflective, that Sebastian might have laughed if he hadn’t been stuck between frustration and guilt. Instead, he watched as she padded toward the hallway, her bare legs carrying her out of sight before he could gather his thoughts enough to respond.

The sound of her bedroom door clicking shut echoed faintly in the quiet kitchen. Sebastian exhaled shakily, setting his mug down on the counter with more force than necessary. He braced his hands against the edge of the counter, his head hanging as he closed his eyes and let out a slow, measured breath.

You deserve this, he reminded himself. Every barb, every joke, every hesitant glance. He’d shattered her trust, and he had no right to expect forgiveness, much less an easy path to earning it back.

But she was here. Somehow, against all odds, she was here.

He lifted his head, glancing toward the hallway where her door remained firmly shut. The fact that she’d said yes, that she’d come here despite everything—despite him—was more than he deserved.

There was no room for self-pity, no space for sulking. He’d made a mess of things, and he was damn well going to fix it. Slowly, one moment at a time, until she could look at him without that flicker of doubt in her hazel eyes.

~

The sun was high in the sky when they arrived in Upper Hogsfield, the small village bustling with quiet activity. Sebastian glanced over at Evangeline, who was taking in the sights with curiosity, her earlier sharpness replaced by an easy calm. She had changed into a tailored blouse with lace details, and a floor-length skirt with subtle pleats; a wide-brimmed summer hat was perched on her head. The tension from the morning seemed to have eased, though he could still see traces of it in the way she kept a slight distance between them.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, falling into step beside her as they wandered down the main street. “It’s not much,” he said, gesturing to the modest shops and cottages lining the road. “But it’s been keeping me busy.”

Evangeline turned to him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Busy is good,” she said lightly. “Better than brooding, I suppose.”

He smirked, the comment drawing a quiet chuckle from him.

They passed a group of children playing by the well, their laughter filling the warm afternoon air. Evangeline watched them with a soft expression before turning back to Sebastian. “So, where exactly have you been working?”

Sebastian tilted his head toward the apothecary at the far end of the village. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

The shop was small but inviting, its windows filled with neatly labeled jars and bundles of dried herbs. Sebastian pushed the door open, the bell above it chiming softly as they stepped inside. The familiar scent of potion ingredients—earthy, sharp, and faintly sweet—greeted them, and Sebastian felt a faint sense of pride as he glanced around the tidy shelves.

“Sebastian!” a cheerful voice called from behind the counter. An older witch with streaks of silver in her dark hair emerged from the back room, her face lighting up when she saw him. “And you’ve brought a guest, I see.”

Evangeline gave a polite smile, stepping forward slightly. “I’m Evangeline,” she said, her tone warm but measured.

The woman’s sharp eyes flicked between them, her smile widening knowingly. “Pleasure to meet you, my dear. I’m Rosalie, I’ve been keeping this one in line all summer.” She winked at Sebastian, who rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Sebastian said, leaning against the counter. “She’s the one who’s been keeping me sane. Barely.”

Rosalie laughed, waving a hand at him. “Oh, nonsense. You’ve been a fine worker. A bit clumsy with the scales at first, but you’ve got a good head for brewing.” She turned her attention back to Evangeline, her smile softening. “He’s been talking about you for weeks, you know.”

Sebastian froze, heat rushing to his face as he shot his boss a warning look. “Rosalie—”

“What?” she said innocently, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “It’s true.”

Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, her expression unreadable, before turning back to Rosalie with a faint smile. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Sebastian cleared his throat, desperate to steer the conversation back on track. “Anyway, this is where I’ve been spending most of my time,” he said, gesturing around the shop.

Evangeline wandered over to one of the shelves, her fingers lightly brushing the polished wood as she inspected the rows of neatly labeled jars. “It’s nice,” she said softly, her gaze trailing over the array of potion ingredients. “Quieter than J. Pippins, I imagine.”

Sebastian chuckled, stepping beside her. “A bit. No duels breaking out in the street outside, at least.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though she didn’t look at him. “Must be a change of pace for you.”

He tilted his head, watching her as she continued perusing the shelves. “It’s not so bad. Keeps me out of trouble.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, finally glancing his way. “Trouble? You? Never.”

Before he could respond, Rosalie called from behind the counter. “Evangeline, dear, you must try the salves Sebastian’s been working on. He’s got a knack for them—his bruise balm works wonders.”

Evangeline turned, raising an eyebrow at Sebastian. “A bruise balm? Sounds useful.”

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a simple recipe. But Rosalie insists on testing it on every scrape and bump anyone brings through the door.”

“Because it works,” Rosalie interjected, crossing her arms with a satisfied grin. “He’s underselling himself, as usual.”

Evangeline smirked, stepping closer to the counter. “I am curious to see this supposed brilliance for myself.”

Rosalie chuckled, reaching under the counter to pull out a small tin. “Here you go, dear. Take it—it’s on the house.”

Evangeline accepted the small tin, turning it over in her hands before stashing it in one of the shopping bags she’d acquired earlier. “Thanks,” she said softly, her tone unusually gentle. “I’ll be sure to put it to good use.”

Sebastian smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “Try not to go out of your way to injure yourself just to test it.”

She raised an eyebrow, her eyes glinting with mischief. “No promises. If it’s as good as Rosalie says, I might need to give it a proper trial.”

Rosalie laughed, shaking her head as she bustled back toward the shelves. “I’d trust this one with my life when it comes to salves and draughts. Though you might want to keep an eye on him around anything flammable.”

Evangeline chuckled, "Oh trust me, I'm well aware. Aguamenti is one of the first spells I learned after meeting him."

Sebastian let out a mock groan, dragging a hand through his hair as he shot Evangeline a dramatic look. “One little mishap I’m branded for life.”

Evangeline smirked. “One little mishap? Shall I list them all? Because I distinctly remember a certain incident involving fireworks and—”

“Alright, alright,” Sebastian cut in, holding up his hands in surrender, though his grin betrayed him. “No need to air all my secrets. I’d like Rosalie to still think I’m semi-responsible.”

Rosalie chuckled from across the shop, her voice light with amusement. “Too late for that, I’m afraid.”

Sebastian cleared his throat, suddenly finding the shop exit very interesting. “Alright, that’s enough roasting for one day,” he said, his tone half-joking as he pushed off the counter. “Come on, Evie. Let me show you the rest of the village before Rosalie starts telling you all my embarrassing stories.”

Evangeline shot him a knowing smile but didn’t argue, falling into step beside him as they headed for the door. The bell chimed softly as they stepped outside, the warm afternoon sunlight washing over them.

Evangeline was at ease, and she walked beside Sebastian with her hands loosely clasped behind her back, shopping bags in hand, glancing at the quaint cottages and the cheerful vendors calling out their wares. She even laughed when a particularly cheeky goat stuck its head through a fence to try and nibble at her dress.

“Your tour’s off to a decent start,” she said, glancing at him with a teasing smile. “Though the livestock could use some manners.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head as he opened the café door for her. “Can’t promise much there. Feldcroft and Upper Hogsfield aren’t exactly known for their refined goat etiquette.”

Evangeline snorted, the sound making him grin as they stepped inside the local café. It was cozy, with mismatched chairs and floral tablecloths that looked like they’d been stitched decades ago. A soft buzz of chatter filled the air, mingling with the rich aroma of coffee and savory pies.

They found a small table near the window, and Sebastian pulled out a chair for Evangeline with a flourish. “Your seat, madam.”

She rolled her eyes but took the seat anyway. Their banter came easily, and Sebastian felt himself relax as they browsed the menu. They ordered—chicken and leek pie for her, steak for him—along with tea that arrived almost instantly in steaming mugs.

“So,” Evangeline began, swirling her spoon in her tea, “Rosalie seems fond of you.”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Honestly, I think Rosalie keeps me around more for the company than my skill. Not that I mind—I’ve learned a lot. Brewing outside of class is different, though. Less about following instructions and more about figuring things out on your own.”

Evangeline tilted her head, her hazel eyes studying him over the rim of her mug. “So you like it? Working there, I mean.”

Sebastian hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I think I do. It’s not flashy or exciting, but it’s… steady. And after everything, steady feels good.”

She hummed softly, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her cup. “You’ve never struck me as the ‘steady’ type, Sebastian. But I suppose we all grow up eventually.”

He smirked, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Even if it sounds like you’re implying I was a reckless idiot before.”

Evangeline’s lips quirked into a faint smile, and she raised her mug to her lips. “Not implying,” she said lightly, taking a sip.

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head as their pies arrived. The rich aroma of buttery pastry and savory filling filled the air, and for a few moments, they ate in companionable silence.

“So,” she said, breaking the quiet as she set her fork down. “Have you thought about what you want to do after Hogwarts? Continue on the path to become a Potioneer perhaps? You’d already have an apprenticeship lined up here, and you are quite talented at it.”

Sebastian considered the question, his brow furrowing slightly. It was something he’d been turning over in his mind all summer, though he still didn’t have a clear answer. “I don’t think so,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “I’ve thought about it, but… I don't think it's right for me. There is such a thing as too steady. Spending the rest of my life weighing ingredients and stirring cauldrons? I don’t know. Feels a bit… tame.”

Evangeline tilted her head, her hazel eyes studying him thoughtfully. "Yeah... I can't say it's what I imagined for you. But you’ll figure it out.” Her tone was steady, certain, and it sent a small wave of warmth through him.

“Thanks,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on her. “What about you? Any grand plans after Hogwarts?”

She shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll travel for a while. I... think I'd like to become a curse-breaker."

Sebastian tried to swallow the unease that crept up his throat, but it clung stubbornly, sour and unshakable. A curse-breaker. Of course, it made sense for her—smart, brave, fiercely independent. It was exactly the sort of future she’d thrive in.

But most curse-breakers were sent far away, tackling ancient ruins and dangerous sites in remote corners of the world. His mind spun with the thought of her being gone for months, maybe even years at a time. The thought of his life without her in it at all was almost unbearable.

“That’s… ambitious,” he said finally, his voice more strained than he intended. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile as he tried again. “It’s a perfect fit for you, though. Adventurous, dangerous, getting to show off your ancient magic prowess—very Evangeline Sterling.”

Her lips curved faintly, though she seemed too focused on her tea to notice the tension in his voice. “It’s just an idea,” she said, her tone light. “I haven’t decided on anything yet. There’s still time.”

Time. The word was meant to be reassuring, but it only made the knot in his stomach tighten. He wanted to say something more, something encouraging that didn’t make him sound like a selfish git. But the words stuck, stubborn and uncooperative, as though the very idea of her leaving had tied them in knots.

He was saved—or cursed, depending on how he looked at it—by the subtle change in Evangeline’s posture. She stiffened almost imperceptibly, her gaze flicking toward the window behind him. The faint smile on her face vanished, replaced by something guarded, almost cold.

Sebastian frowned, turning slightly in his seat to follow her line of sight. It didn’t take long to spot the source of her sudden change.

Abigail Hartwell.

The fifth-year-going-on-sixth-year Gryffindor stood outside the café, chatting animatedly with one of the vendors. Her auburn hair gleamed in the sunlight, and her laugh carried faintly through the glass. She was holding up a vibrant scarf, twirling it in her hands as the shopkeeper nodded along with her chatter.

Sebastian’s stomach dropped.

Of course, it had to be her, the girl he'd kissed by the fire. Because why wouldn’t the universe throw this particular wrench into what had otherwise been a near-perfect day?

He turned back to Evangeline, his heart sinking further at the carefully neutral expression she wore. Her gaze had returned to her tea, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug with slow, deliberate movements. But the slight tension in her jaw and the way her shoulders held just a fraction too tightly gave her away.

Sebastian cleared his throat, trying to fill the awkward silence that had suddenly wrapped itself around the table like a shroud. “Evie—”

“Don’t,” she said softly, cutting him off without looking up. Her voice wasn’t sharp, but it carried a weight that stopped him in his tracks. “It’s fine.”

“I didn’t know she’d be here," he insisted, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table as he tried to catch her eye.

Evangeline let out a quiet, humorless laugh, finally looking up at him. Her eyes were guarded, her expression carefully composed. “Sebastian, I’m not upset. She has every right to exist."

The words were calm, measured, but they hit Sebastian like a punch to the gut. She wasn’t raising her voice or accusing him of anything, and that somehow made it worse.

“You know we don't speak anymore,” he said, his voice low but earnest. "We haven't spoken since..."

Evangeline’s lips quirked into something resembling a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I believe you.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” he asked softly, his heart pounding in his chest.

Her gaze flicked up to meet his, steady but unreadable. “Because it doesn’t change anything, Sebastian. I’m not mad. I just… I don’t want to talk about it.”

He opened his mouth to protest, to try again, but she cut him off with a small shake of her head. “Please,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can we just… finish lunch?”

Sebastian stared at her for a long moment, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to say. But the guarded look in her eyes stopped him. She wasn’t ready, and pushing her would only make things worse.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice soft and reluctant. He leaned back in his chair, picking up his fork even though the thought of eating made his stomach churn.

Evangeline gave him a small, almost grateful nod before returning to her pie. The conversation shifted after that—forced, lighter topics that neither of them seemed particularly invested in. But Sebastian couldn’t shake the tension lingering between them, like a shadow neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

When they left the café, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting warm golden hues over the village. Sebastian led the way back toward the Floo, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stole glances at Evangeline. She walked beside him, her expression calm but distant, and he felt the weight of her silence like a leaden knot in his chest.

By the time they reached the apothecary, Sebastian couldn’t take it anymore. He stopped abruptly, turning to face her. “Evie—”

She stopped too, tilting her head slightly as she met his gaze, and he hesitated, his throat tightening around the words he wanted to say. But then he let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just… I’m sorry.”

Evangeline frowned, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “For being such a colossal idiot."

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, her lips curved into a faint, tired smile. “You’re always apologizing, Sebastian.”

“Because I’m always screwing things up,” he muttered.

Evangeline let out a soft sigh, stepping closer. “Look, I don’t need another apology,” she said gently. “I just… I need time. Okay?"

Sebastian nodded, his throat tight as he forced himself to look at her.

“Time,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Alright.”

She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod before turning and continuing toward the Floo station. He followed, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

The sun was skimming the horizon by the time they returned to Feldcroft, the golden light of evening casting long shadows across the village. Sebastian busied himself in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and checking the roast he’d put in the oven earlier, while Evangeline sat quietly at the table, her fingers idly tracing the wood grain.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it was heavy, filled with everything they weren’t saying. Sebastian focused on the rhythm of his knife against the cutting board, the soft clink of dishes as he prepared their meal. It was easier to lose himself in the familiar motions than to confront the knot of emotions twisting in his chest.

Finally, Evangeline broke the quiet, her voice soft but steady. “Where did we leave off?”

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder, frowning slightly. “Leave off?”

“In Mansfield Park,” she clarified, tilting her head as she watched him. “I fell asleep."

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he set the knife down. “Right. I barely made it through a chapter.”

Evangeline’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Then you’ll have to catch me up,” she said, leaning back in her chair with an air of expectation. “Wouldn’t want me missing any crucial moments.”

Sebastian wiped his hands on a dish towel, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?”

She shrugged, her smile widening slightly. "After dinner, yes. Speaking of, you need any help?"

Sebastian shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’ve got it. You’ve been on your feet enough today. Just sit back and relax.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Relax? You mean sit here and watch you wield that knife? No thanks.”

He smirked, turning back to the cutting board. “I’m perfectly capable, Evie.”

“I'm sure you are,” she replied lightly, standing and crossing the small kitchen to his side. “But I also happen to know you have a habit of biting off more than you can chew."

Sebastian rolled his eyes but didn’t stop her as she slipped past him to grab an apron from the hook by the pantry. She tied it around her waist with practiced ease, shooting him a pointed look. “So, what can I do?”

“You can sit back down like I said,” he replied, only half-serious as he chopped a carrot with exaggerated precision. “Dinner’s practically done anyway.”

Evangeline tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in playful skepticism. “Practically done, huh? And yet you’re still chopping vegetables like your life depends on it.”

He paused, glancing at the array of ingredients he’d half-prepared. She wasn’t wrong.

“Alright, fine,” he relented, stepping aside with a dramatic sigh. “Since you’re so eager, you can finish the carrots. But don’t blame me if you regret volunteering.”

Evangeline grinned, stepping up to the counter and taking the knife from him. She tested its weight with a flick of her wrist before resuming his chopping, her movements quick and confident.

Sebastian leaned against the counter, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “You’ve done this before.”

She smirked, not looking up. “What gave it away? The part where I didn’t cut my fingers off?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, crossing his arms. “But also the speed. You’re better at this than I am.”

“Not surprising,” she replied casually, her tone teasing. “I grew up in the Muggle world, remember? No house-elves to do the cooking for us.”

Sebastian tilted his head, studying her as she worked. “I never thought about that. So, what? You cooked all the time?”

“Not all the time,” she said with a shrug. “But the orphanage wasn’t exactly overflowing with staff. If you wanted something more than bland stew, you learned how to make it yourself.”

Her tone was light, but Sebastian caught the faint edge of something unspoken in her words. He didn’t press, instead focusing on the way her hands moved with practiced ease, turning the once-messy pile of vegetables into neat, even slices.

“Alright,” he said after a moment, a grin tugging at his lips. “You win. You’re officially better in the kitchen.”

Evangeline laughed softly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m good at lots of things.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed,” he replied, his grin softening into something warmer.

They finished preparing the meal together, falling into an easy rhythm as they moved around the small kitchen. And by the time they sat down to eat, the earlier tension was gone.

The meal was simple—a small roast with freshly sautéed vegetables—but they really didn't need much, especially after their earlier feast at the café. They kept the conversation light, trading stories about their summer adventures and laughing at the ridiculous antics of their mutual friends.

When the plates were cleared and the kitchen tidied, Evangeline leaned against the counter, her arms crossed as she regarded him with a thoughtful expression. “So,” she said, tilting her head. “Are you going to keep your promise?”

Sebastian frowned, confused. “Promise?”

“To catch me up on Mansfield Park,” she clarified, her lips curving into a small smile. “Or were you planning on backing out?”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “I wouldn’t dare.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Good. Then let’s go outside.”

Sebastian blinked, “Outside?”

She nodded, pushing off the counter and heading toward the back door. “It’s a nice evening,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a teasing smile. “Unless you’re too delicate to read by moonlight.”

Sebastian let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he followed her. “Alright, alright. But if I'm eaten by mosquitos, you’re to blame.”

Evangeline stepped out into the night, the cool evening air brushing against her skin. The stars were just beginning to emerge, their faint glow scattered across the darkening sky. She led him into the field stretching beyond the cottage, silently casting lumos to light the way.

Sebastian followed close behind as the wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze, their colors muted in the silvery light of the rising moon. The warmth of the day had given way to the cool, crisp embrace of evening, and the air smelled faintly of grass and distant woodsmoke.

“Here,” Evangeline said softly, stopping at a small rise in the field. “This is perfect.”

Sebastian glanced around. The spot she’d chosen offered a clear view of the stars, the endless expanse of the night sky stretching above them like a tapestry.

“You’ve got an eye for scenery, I’ll give you that.”

Evangeline lowered herself onto the soft grass, her dress pooling around her as she leaned back on her hands. “It’s not exactly a cozy armchair by the fire,” she admitted, tilting her head to gaze up at the sky. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

Sebastian sat beside her, stretching out his legs and setting the book down between them. “It is,” he agreed, his voice quiet as he followed her gaze. “Though I still maintain the mosquitos are out to get me.”

She laughed softly, the sound warm and melodic in the stillness. “You’ll survive,” she teased. “And if not, I promise to avenge you.”

He chuckled, reaching for the book and flipping to the marked page. “Alright. Let’s see where we left off.”

Evangeline smiled, shifting slightly to lean against his shoulder. The motion was casual, unthinking, but it sent a jolt through Sebastian that he hoped didn’t show. He adjusted the book in his hands, clearing his throat as he began to read.

His voice was steady and low, weaving the words into the quiet night. Evangeline listened intently, her eyes drifting closed every so often as she allowed the story to wash over her.

Occasionally, she would comment, her voice soft and teasing, poking fun at a particular line or offering her opinion on a character’s decisions. Sebastian would respond in kind, his quips earning quiet laughter that made his chest tighten in ways he couldn’t quite name.

As the night deepened, the words began to blur together, their cadence slower and softer as Sebastian’s voice grew quieter. He wasn't sure when they'd laid down on their backs, or when Evie had extinguished the glow of her wand as they looked up at the sky, but Sebastian found himself stretched out beside her, the book forgotten on the grass between them.

Evangeline’s voice broke the quiet, soft and thoughtful. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”

Sebastian turned his head slightly, glancing at her. “What is?”

Her hazel eyes remained fixed on the stars, their faint glow reflecting in her gaze. “How small we are,” she murmured. “How the world feels so big and endless until you’re lying here, looking up at… all of this.”

Sebastian followed her gaze. He wasn’t often struck by the enormity of the universe—his thoughts had a way of staying locked firmly in the present, on the people and problems closest to him. But now, with Evangeline beside him, he felt the weight of her words settle deep in his chest.

“Getting a bit philosophical on me, eh Sterling?"

Evangeline smiled faintly, her gaze still fixed on the stars. “Moments like this… they make you think. Or maybe they make you feel too much. I’m not sure which.”

Sebastian’s gaze drifted from the stars to Evangeline’s profile, unable to resist the pull of the soft curve of her cheek, the way the moonlight kissed her skin, and the delicate line of her jaw. Her hair spilled across the grass, a dark curtain catching faint silver threads under the night sky. She looked serene, thoughtful, untouchably beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.

She wasn’t the same girl he’d met in two years ago, scrappy and sharp-tongued, too fierce for her size, though he lover her too. Somewhere along the way, she had grown up, grown into someone with a quiet strength and a beauty that left him undone. She wasn’t just Evie, his friend, his confidante. She was…

Merlin help him.

As if sensing the weight of his gaze, Evangeline turned her head, her eyes catching his. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the world narrowing to the space between them. Her lips parted slightly, and Sebastian saw the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Caught you,” she said softly, her voice teasing but gentle.

Sebastian floundered, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. Her soft laugh broke the tension, and she shook her head, her gaze drifting back to the stars.

“Relax, Sebastian,” she murmured.

She sounded casual, but the tension lingering in the air told a different story. Sebastian couldn’t look away, his heart pounding as he watched the faint flush that spread across her cheeks.

For a moment, he thought he saw something in her eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, of curiosity, as though she were daring him to close the distance between them. His chest tightened, his mind spinning with the possibilities of what might happen if he leaned in, if he just…

But then Evangeline let out a soft laugh, breaking the spell. “You’ve got that look,” she teased, her tone light. “The one you get when you’re overthinking something.”

Sebastian forced a chuckle, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, you know me. Always thinking too much. Or not enough.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, and she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to face him. "So what is it this time?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words tangled in his throat, refusing to cooperate. How could he even begin to explain the tangle of emotions he was feeling? How could he put into words the way she made him feel—how the very thought of her was both a comfort and a torment?

Instead, he shook his head with a lopsided grin, defaulting to humor to shield himself. “Oh, you know, just thinking that you're hogging the better angle for the stars."

Evangeline narrowed her eyes, her lips twitching into a knowing smirk. “Hogging the better angle for the stars?” she repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

Sebastian shrugged, his grin widening as he leaned back onto the grass. “What can I say? You’re very inconsiderate when it comes to stargazing placement.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t press further. Instead, she lay back down, her gaze drifting to the sky again. The quiet returned, stretching between them, and Sebastian was just starting to relax when he felt her shift slightly closer. He tensed, the subtle movement catching him off guard. The warmth of her presence brushed against his side, and before he could process what was happening, her hand reached for his. She brushed his palm lightly, hesitant yet deliberate, before lacing their fingers together.

“Your hands are cold,” she murmured softly, her voice so quiet it almost got lost in the rustle of the grass around them.

Sebastian chuckled faintly, trying to steady his pounding heart. “Well, you’re the one who grabbed it. Don’t complain now.”

Evangeline tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes as she glanced at him. “I’m not complaining,” she said simply, her tone lighter now. “Just an observation.”

Her hands were smaller than his, and impossibly soft, a stark contrast to the sharp edges of his own. It made no sense, really. She’d spent just as many hours clutching her wand, casting spells, and facing danger, yet her hands were untouched by the wear of it all.

“You’re quiet,” Evangeline said softly, breaking the silence.

He turned his head toward her, their faces closer now than he’d realized. “Just… thinking.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile. “More star angles?”

Sebastian huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Not this time.”

"Then what?"

Sebastian swallowed, his heart heavy with thoughts he couldn’t voice. The memory of the party loomed like a shadow over this perfect moment, a bitter reminder of his mistakes. He thought about how Evangeline had clung to him that night, the trust in her eyes as if he was her anchor. And yet, he’d left her.

Left her for Abigail.

The memory of that drunken, thoughtless kiss was blurry at best, and even in the haze of it, he couldn’t conjure any meaning. What he could remember clearly, though, was the fallout. His brilliant plan—or lack thereof—had been to act like it didn’t matter. Like if he carried on as if nothing had happened, the rumors swirling through the school would simply burn out.

It had been selfish. Stupid. He’d allowed himself to be seen around the castle with Abigail, as though he had something to prove, as though flaunting indifference would somehow mend the cracks. Instead, it had only driven the knife deeper.

And yet, he’d done it anyway.

He thought about that night by the Black Lake, where the soft lap of water against the shore had been the only sound between them. He’d stumbled through an apology, the words tumbling out unevenly. He’d tried—tried so desperately—to explain himself, to make her see that what had happened meant nothing, that the last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her.

But he’d stopped short of the full truth. He hadn’t told her the thing that haunted him most, the thing that clawed at his chest every time he saw her—the truth that he was utterly, hopelessly in love with her.

It wasn’t just love in the way people usually spoke of it. It wasn’t gentle or measured, something that grew quietly over time. No, this was all-consuming, an all-encompassing force that made him feel both weightless and chained. It terrified him—how deeply it rooted itself in his soul, how it left no part of him untouched. He loved her fiercely, painfully, in a way that felt as though it might tear him apart if he kept it hidden for much longer.

And now, as she lay beside him, her hand soft in his, waiting for whatever answer he’d give, the weight of his silence grew. He thought about telling her—about finally letting those three small, monumental words tumble free from where they’d lived on the edge of his tongue for years. He thought about how good it would feel to let her know, to stop hiding what had always been written so plainly in the way he looked at her.

But then he thought about today. The way she’d made those comments this morning over tea, not-so-subtle jabs he fully deserved. The way her expression had tightened when Abigail passed by the cafe, like a wound reopening despite her efforts to mask it. The way she’d told him she needed time.

Time.

She’d been clear, and he couldn’t take that from her. He couldn’t heap his feelings onto her now, when she deserved the space to decide for herself what she wanted—without guilt, without obligation.

So he swallowed the truth once more, compressing it into something smaller, safer. Something that wouldn’t burden her.

“You mean a lot to me, Evangeline,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Everything to me, really."

Evangeline didn’t respond as she turned her head toward him, her eyes meeting his, and for a moment, Sebastian thought he might have said too much—or maybe not enough. Her gaze searched his face, steady and unflinching, as though she were trying to read the unspoken things he couldn’t quite bring himself to say.

“...everything?" She repeated softly.

Sebastian swallowed hard, his fingers tightening instinctively around hers. The urge to tell her everything—to spill the entirety of his heart at her feet—burned fiercely in his chest. But he couldn’t. Not when she’d only just begun to let him in again.

Still, he couldn’t lie to her.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everything.”

Evangeline’s expression softened, her lips parting slightly as she absorbed his words. For a moment, it looked like she might say something—something he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear. Her hazel eyes flickered with something unreadable, something caught between disbelief and longing.

“Sebastian,” she started, her voice barely audible. Her fingers curled tighter around his, as if steadying herself for what came next. “You…” She trailed off, her gaze dropping to their joined hands as she let out a soft, almost nervous laugh. “You always have a way of saying things that make it hard to think straight.”

Sebastian’s heart twisted, unsure whether to feel disappointed, relieved, or smug at her words. She hadn’t said what he secretly hoped for—but she hadn’t pulled away, either. Instead, she held onto him, her fingers laced tightly with his as though she couldn’t let go, even if she tried.

He let out a soft laugh, a sound caught somewhere between amusement and nervousness. “Well, I aim to leave a lasting impression,” he said, “Even if it means I’m just making you dizzy.”

“Dizzy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she murmured, her voice so quiet it felt like a secret meant only for him.

His chest tightened, the confession—small as it was—sending a wave of warmth through him. Did she realize what she was saying? Did she know what her words did to him, how they made him feel like he was teetering on the edge of something he both craved and feared?

He wanted to say so much more—to tell her that she wasn’t the only one who felt dizzy, that she had a way of making the ground beneath him feel unsteady in the best way. But he couldn’t find the words, couldn’t figure out how to say what he meant without risking too much.

“Well,” she said softly, breaking the moment as she let go of his hand and sat up. The warmth of her touch faded too quickly, leaving his palm cold in the evening air. “We should probably head back in. The dew’s starting to seep through my dress.”

Sebastian blinked, startled by the sudden shift, and scrambled to sit up beside her. The spell of the moment had shattered, leaving him feeling oddly untethered, like something important had slipped through his fingers. “Oh, right,” he said quickly, brushing his hands on his trousers to keep them busy. “Can’t have you catching a chill."

Sebastian rose to his feet, picking up the forgotten book and tucking it under his arm before following her back towards his cottage, his mind spinning with everything left unsaid.

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