#sebastian sallow x reader

[5sospenguinqueen]

Sebastian: Would you kiss me for two pumpkin pasties?

MC: Why?

Sebastian: Just curious. So... would you?

MC: I guess so.

(Sebastian slides two pumpkin pasties across the table)

Sebastian: Would you look at that-

[anto-pops]

Restraint - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Sebastian wasn’t sure whether or not he was grateful for your lack of attention. The clueless facade you maintained where he was concerned made him equal parts angry and confused. Didn’t you know he was a man? An eighteen year old man who catered to your every whim? A legal adult whose room you spent an unorthodox amount of time in? Anyone with eyes could see that Sebastian was into you, and yet you never gave him any sign that you were aware of his feelings for you. 

It was mind-boggling. It was frustrating. He was at the end of his rope.

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, masturbation, intense pining, possessive behavior, cunnilingus, oral fixation/oral smut, explicit sexual content

This random Monday oneshot is also on Ao3

Sebastian had never been one for subtlety. In Ominis’ own words, he wore his heart on his sleeve and let his emotions fuel his tone, but there was little he could do to remedy that fact. Tiptoeing around a subject or beating around the bush never failed to frustrate him. He preferred it when people said what they meant and meant what they said. Being straight up and getting to the point spared him a headache and prevented him from losing his temper, which was the best case scenario for everyone. 

Sebastian said what he wanted, did what he wanted, and never wasted his breath apologizing for his actions when he knew deep down that he wouldn’t mean it anyways. Placations were pointless. 

Unless, however, you were involved. 

Everything about you had driven Sebastian mad for the last three years. From the moment you had arrived at Hogwarts, he had been completely and utterly entranced by you. Then you’d gone and broken his dueling win streak in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the infatuation had turned into obsession. You were the one person he wouldn’t– no, couldn’t be authentic with. How could he be? You made him stupid. He could barely think straight around you, his mind imbuing him with the sorts of thoughts that would land him in an asylum if he voiced them. If he didn’t filter himself around you, it wouldn’t end well. Not for him, and certainly not for you. 

He didn’t know if your obliviousness to his behavior was all for show or if it was completely genuine, but he didn’t want to risk finding out. 

“Sebastian?” Your voice made him go rigid, the tired rasp to your voice sending his body’s entire blood supply straight between his legs.  

“What?” 

“Do you want to work on that History of Magic report with me later? I fell asleep and missed half of the lecture.” 

He watched you over the rim of his cup, the steam from the hot chocolate wafting into the air and obscuring his view of you slightly. Of course he knew you’d fallen asleep– he had been watching your head bob up and down for twenty minutes in class before the fatigue had won out and you’d slumped over your desk. Professor Binns was always too preoccupied with floating listlessly around the chalkboard to take notice, which was why Sebastian hadn’t bothered to wake you up. If you were tired, you needed to rest. 

More to the point, Sebastian enjoyed watching you when you weren’t looking. What better opportunity was there to do so than while you slept? 

Your chin was daintily perched in your palm as you pushed around the food on your plate, waiting patiently for his answer. With your tired smile and half-lidded eyes, he was convinced you were on the verge of passing out again. How late had you stayed up last night? What had you been doing instead of sleeping? Had you gone out with your friends– or Merlin forbid– someone else?

He banished the train of thought from his mind, lest he piss himself off with the possible answers. “Sure. Library?” 

“Hm… can we go to your room? If I fall asleep again, at least it’ll be in an actual bed.” 

The mental image of you sprawled out on his bed did nothing to alleviate the growing bulge straining against his trousers. His jaw hardened as he breathed in deeply through his nose, then exhaled through his pursed lips. “Yeah, fine. I won’t do the work for you if you fall asleep, though.” 

Your tired expression lit up as you beamed at him, and his stomach churned violently. It was pathetic how smitten he was. He knew he would agree to come to class in a ballgown if it meant getting to glimpse that dazzling grin of yours. 

The smile he gave you was mildly strained, but you didn’t notice. Thankfully. 

Sebastian spent the rest of lunch holding his breath and thinking of anything that fit the criteria of gross and off-putting. He had to. It wasn’t like he could rub one out in the middle of the Great Hall to get rid of the half-mast hidden behind his zipper. He couldn’t even excuse himself to go back to his dorm to take care of it in private– he’d be showcasing the full extent of the problem between his legs to the entire student body if he did. You were none the wiser to his internal turmoil as you rambled on innocently about one thing or another, but he could barely hear you over the rush of blood in his ears. 

He checked the giant grandfather clock against the wall. Twenty more minutes for lunch. With any luck, it would prove to be enough time for his cock to calm the fuck down. 

—

You were always late. 

Sebastian had grown accustomed to your unyielding habit of showing up places behind schedule. In the beginning it had bothered him, if only because he was the exact opposite. He had to be early to everything on his agenda, otherwise he was panicky and on edge. But your reliable tendency to arrive after an agreed upon time was exactly what he needed right now, because if he didn’t kill the boner he’d been sporting since lunch, he was going to lose his fucking mind. 

The dorm was empty since all of his roommates were either in the Library or in Hogsmeade, but Sebastian still tried to stifle his noises. Choked moans of your name were bitten back and swallowed as his fist furiously worked the aching length of his cock. There was nothing sensual or graceful about how he moved his hand– it was all frantic. Berserk, even. His fingers were pressed roughly against his shaft, his wrist twisting rapidly over the head as he tried to practically yank his orgasm out. Any other day he would be ashamed of how pitiful he had to look, but not now. 

Right now, he was desperate. He had to stave off his cravings for you as a precaution before you showed up, otherwise he knew he’d be done for. 

A quick succession of three knocks sounded from the door, halting his movements. Then Sebastian’s blood ran cold when he heard your voice from the other side. “Sebastian? Are you here?” 

The stinging slap from his hand clamping over his mouth worked to snap his mind out of its lust-induced haze. Squeezing the base of his cock with bruising strength, Sebastian let his head fall back against the headboard of his bed as tears of frustration and pent-up pleasure filled his eyes. He blinked them back stubbornly, digging his teeth into his thumb as his entire body seized with agitation. 

Figures that this was the one time you were actually early. 

You started knocking again, your knuckles rapping against the wood of the door faster, your impatience permeating the air on your side of the wall until it was too much to bear. 

Sebastian snarled as he hastily stuffed himself back in his pants, at a complete loss for how to proceed. He was hardly in a state to be around you right now. All of this had been so he wouldn’t be a fraught mess around you, but now things were ten times worse. His legs were tense as he swung them over the side of the bed and made his way to the door, taking an extra moment to readjust his painfully hard cock in his pants before undoing the lock and wrenching the door open. 

“Finally,” you huffed angrily, your narrowed eyes widening when they took note of his flushed, sweaty face. “Merlin, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” 

“You’re early,” Sebastian replied flatly, ignoring your question completely. 

“Yeah, Garreth offered to help Poppy out at the stalls for me so I came over sooner. What’s the matter with you?” 

“I–” Shit, what did he say? His brain scrambled for an excuse, his red cheeks and disheveled clothing leaving little room for interpretation. Unless… “I was working out. Getting ready for Quidditch next week. I thought I’d have more time to finish up and shower, but now you’re here.” 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot about Quidditch. Figures Imelda is making you prepare early,” you waved your hand over your shoulder in the general direction of the bathroom. “Go ahead, don’t stop on my account. I can start reviewing what notes I did manage to take today.” 

Sebastian wasn’t sure whether or not he was grateful for your lack of attention. The clueless facade you maintained where he was concerned made him equal parts angry and confused. Didn’t you know he was a man? An eighteen year old man who catered to your every whim? A legal adult whose room you spent an unorthodox amount of time in? Anyone with eyes could see that Sebastian was into you, and yet you never gave him any sign that you were aware of his feelings for you. 

It was mind-boggling. It was frustrating. He was at the end of his rope.

And he still needed to shower. 

“Give me ten minutes,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. You nodded and stepped inside his room, watching as he stiffly grabbed a change of clothes and a towel before striding past you without a second glance. 

If the universe held any affection for him at all, a cold shower would be enough to loosen the tight knot in the pit of his stomach. 

—

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian’s excursion to the bathroom was unsatisfying. The shower head ought to count itself lucky that it was still mounted to the wall and not lying in a broken, dented heap on the floor. The icy spray of water had eased the problem between his thighs, but it had also snapped him out of his stupor, sharpened his senses, and left him with the grating realization that nothing would help him quench his thirst for you. 

After donning a pair of pajama pants and an old Quidditch jersey that had definitely seen better days, Sebastian slowly– painfully– made his way back to you. He dimly towel dried his hair as he shuffled towards the door, giving himself as much time as possible to steel his nerves and barricade his lustful thoughts behind a mental, brick shield. A chill snaked its way up his spine as the cold air of the Slytherin dorms kissed his damp skin, but he barely paid it any mind. 

He would rather be cold than embarrassingly hard. 

When Sebastian pushed the door open, he found you laid out on his bed on your stomach, a textbook and a pile of notes situated before you. You’d shed your robes and were clad in your school uniform, the trousers you’d stubbornly kept since last year acting like a second skin. The passage of time was ultimately Sebastian’s greatest enemy, because with every month that went by, you changed. Physically changed. You were taller, curvier, and more womanly than ever. Instead of replacing your uniform with one that fit, you held on to ones from years past that had no business living in your drawers. 

That perky ass of yours was going to be his undoing. Why did that outdated pair of trousers have to hug your hips so nicely? 

He averted his gaze to the wall, curling his hands into tight fists that left violent red crescents on his palms. Get a grip, he thought to himself. 

“You certainly made yourself comfortable,” he finally managed to bite out, his voice strained and pitched higher than normal. Idiot. 

You glanced over at him with what he could only describe as a doe-eyed look. Those plush lips of yours were parted in mild surprise before they curled up into an easy smile, and your feet proceeded to kick up in the air playfully. “Your bed is much more comfortable than the one in my dorm.”

Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths, Sebastian. 

“Is that why you’ve practically moved in here? Not sleeping well in your own room?” 

“Among other things,” you admitted around a sigh. “Don’t pretend like you don’t live for my company though. What else would you do if I wasn’t around to pester you?” 

“Relax, most likely.” He allowed himself a shit-eating smirk, and he was rewarded by the sound of your indignant gasp. Closing the distance between you both, Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed, confidently moving so that he was situated against the headboard for the second time today. You shifted around to give him more space, then brazenly draped your legs over his before shoving your notes into his lap. 

His smirk vanished, and it took everything in him not to let out the choked groan that bubbled in his throat in response to the close proximity. “Whatever. You love me, and we both know it,” you huffed tauntingly, your downcast eyes keeping you from seeing the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “Now read over this and tell me if I got most of the important material. Then I can start drafting the paper.” 

History of Magic was the one class that never failed to make everyone sleepy, but presently? Working on an assignment like this with you in the wake of his shitty day? Sebastian had never been more awake, and it had everything to do with how pent-up he was. With excruciating restraint, he blocked out the feeling of your legs weighing down on his thighs and picked up the notes. 

It was going to be a long, long evening. 

—

It hadn’t been easy for Sebastian to maintain his composure for an hour straight, and there was even more truth to that fact now. You were still propped up against the bedpost with your notes scattered around you, your legs still tossed lazily over his, only you wouldn’t stop fidgeting. 

Seriously. Sitting still was a foreign concept to you and had been for the last twenty minutes, because your feet wouldn’t quit fucking rubbing together. That wasn’t the direct cause of Sebastian’s frayed composure. It was the fact that your incessant twitching was pulling on the fabric of his pants, drawing the material taught over his groin over and over and over. It wasn’t an unusual thing for you to get so restless after studying for so long without a break, but considering that his impromptu masturbation session had been cut short earlier, he was loads more anxious than usual.  

He didn’t mean to be so aggressive when he slapped his hands over your knees, stilling your absentminded writhing with a scowl. Later on he would apologize– and mean it– for being so harsh. But if he didn’t put a stop to your shifting, he was going to have bigger problems that superseded you being upset with him. 

“Hey!” Your head snapped up from your notes, your grip on your quill turning white knuckled as you openly glared at him. “That hurts. Let go–”

“Stop moving so much, you’re driving me insane!” He fired back defensively, hating how gruff his voice sounded. “Is it too much for you to sit still?” 

Your brows rose up your forehead in complete bewilderment, your expression warring between offended and shocked. “You could just ask next time instead of trying to dislocate my kneecaps. Merlin…” Sebastian didn’t know whether to be relieved or disgruntled when you attempted to withdraw your legs from his lap. Either way, he refused to let you move the limbs, and your loud sigh was laced with blatant vexation. “Let go, I’ll just move–” 

“No. I don’t want you to move, I just want you to relax.”

Your wary gaze pierced right through him, and if he wasn’t already coiled tighter than a fucking spring, he would stiffen at the way your lower lip jutted out into a pout. You obeyed, though, your legs staying mercifully still as you went back to reading over the notes he had added to, and Sebastian took the opportunity to watch you through his lashes while he pretended to look down at the papers in his own lap. 

Mussed strands of hair fell into your face, a byproduct of how frequently you’d run your fingers through them. Following summer break, you had returned to school with a light smattering of freckles dusting your nose. They couldn’t hold a candle to the ones that covered damn near every inch of him, but they were still pretty. Cute, even. The dark rings under your eyes would have looked sickly on anyone else, but in your case, they made the whites of your eyes all the more vibrant. You looked like a doll. 

A scrumptious, effortlessly beautiful doll. 

He watched as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, scratching out something you had written before hastily replacing the sentence with another. When the bit of skin was released, it was left red, swollen, and far more tempting than it had any right to be. 

He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to bite at your lips, your neck, your breasts, and leave imprints of his teeth all over you. He wanted to mark every inch of your body and lay his claim in some primal, unseemly way that went against every lick of gentlemanliness he had been taught. He wanted to toss his inhibitions to the wind and indulge in the taste of you– something he had wondered about for a long, long time. Were you as sweet as he imagined? Would your thighs work to crush his head if he found himself situated between them, lapping up your essence like a man starved? 

When your head popped up to glance at him again, Sebastian was unprepared for it. He was still staring– no, ogling you– with his eyes narrowed and his chest rising and falling rapidly. His fantasies had gotten the better of him and had left him a panting, lust-drunk mess. Another cold shower couldn’t even begin to lessen the painful throbbing of his cock. All of his hard work at keeping calm and in control had just flown out the fucking window, and he could only thank the stars in the sky that he had a pile of notes in his lap, concealing the evidence of his innermost thoughts. 

“Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?” You asked him, abandoning your quill against the mattress so you could sit forward and scan his very flushed, very tense face. 

“I’m fine,” he looked away, trying and failing to wave you off. 

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t back down. “You’re all red. Do you have a fever?” 

“Seriously– I’m fine. Don’t worry about it, just finish your report already.” 

The force of his heart hammering against his sternum left him worried that it was about to jump out of his ribcage. Your hand was suddenly closing in on him, concern etched across your features as you shifted your legs to move closer into his space. The tantalizing smell of your perfume oil invaded his senses, filling his nose and setting his blood alight in his veins. There was something to be said about how primal humans could be when it came to scents. Yours had always been incredibly intoxicating, and Sebastian was all too willing to breathe it in deeply as the back of your hand made contact with his forehead. 

He was so fucked. 

“You’re burning up. Maybe we should call it a night… you probably need to sleep it off.” 

“I don’t need sleep,” he insisted with a frown, reaching up to pry your hand away from his face. “I already told you; I feel fine. Just drop it.” 

That spark of rebellion you reserved for your most loathed enemies came to life behind your irises, burning brighter than the sun as you narrowed your eyes at him and tried to plant your hand against his forehead again. Sebastian held you back with little effort, your arm shaking with the force you exerted in your attempts. “You’ve been weird all day– if you’re sick, you need to be checked out. So either you tell me what’s wrong with you, or I’ll drag you to the Hospital Wing myself.” 

That dark, animalistic part of him that conjured up the most obscene of daydreams silently laughed at your threat. Drag him? You couldn’t move him if you tried. He was infinitely stronger than you– broader, faster, tougher. You were the prey his inner predator yearned to claim. It was your fault that he was so out of it today, and yet you had the gall to order him around? 

With the utmost difficulty, Sebastian checked himself in record time, reining in the bestial side of him as his grip on your wrist tightened. “For the last time, nothing is wrong. If you can’t accept that, then leave. There’s the door. You have your notes– go finish your report in your own room.” 

You scoffed and strained in his hold, realizing that your attempts at moving your hand forward were fruitless. Then, faster than Sebastian could process, you threw your other arm out– deciding that if he was going to hold back your left hand, your right could pick up where the other had left off. He instinctively jerked you sideways to throw you off balance, which sent you careening forward against his chest. A guttural, almost pained groan ripped from his throat when your palm pressed directly against the throbbing bulge in his pants, your efforts to catch yourself effectively giving him away. 

The jig was up. Your hand was right on his cock, the notes in his lap crinkling loudly as your fingers flexed in alarm. His eyes, which had squeezed shut in response to the abrupt contact, cracked open to find you blinking up at him blearily. “S-Sebastian?” 

“Stop. Just don’t,” he grit through his teeth, his molars clenching together so roughly that he was certain his jaw would lock. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t– I shouldn’t have–” you tried to backpedal away from him to remove yourself from his personal space, but you only succeeded in applying more pressure to his groin. A choked whimper escaped his lips, the sound forming too quickly for him to stifle it and too loudly for you to have missed it. 

Fuck. 

Sebastian blindly yanked you forward so the brunt of your weight was pressed against his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist to prevent you from escalating the situation further, and the sigh of relief that slipped through his teeth when you moved your hand away from his cock was pathetic. He was pathetic. 

He was glad that you couldn’t see his face when he desperately whispered, “Don’t– don’t fucking move. Please, just… give me a minute.” 

That was all he needed. A moment of reprieve. He needed sixty, uninterrupted seconds to focus on his breathing– to imagine a Dugbog in a swimsuit, or Madame Scribbner in lingerie. He needed to cycle through the things that never failed to kill his libido, and he could only do that if you let him. 

You didn’t. Fuck– you didn’t even give him five seconds to open his eyes. Before he knew what was happening, your hand was back on his cock, your fingers digging into the parchment that covered his lap as you fucking squeezed his pulsing length with intention. 

The effect was instantaneous, and the sounds that fell from Sebastian’s lips were ones that would be seared into your brain until the end of time. His brain, too. He had never made such a wretched noise in all his eighteen years of living. 

“Don’t make me throw you off this bed,” he growled slowly, but the high-pitched edge to his voice made it seem like despite his words, he was secretly pleading for it.

The image of himself climbing over you on the hardwood floor, pinning those damnable hands of yours above your head with one hand while the other was knuckle deep in your tight, fluttering cunt flooded his mind, and the brick wall of restraint he had constructed earlier crumbled into dust. He sucked down a shaky breath, his entire body vibrating with need as you gave him yet another testing squeeze, and that was what finally prompted him to seek out your eyes. 

They were glimmering with unrestrained curiosity, something strangely like wonder dancing behind your pupils. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I don’t know,” you admitted breathlessly, the prettiest flush Sebastian had ever seen spreading across your cheeks as you glanced down to where you gripped him. “I just… is this why you’ve been so out of it today?” 

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he rumbled, his mind urging him to shove you away while his body begged him to arch into your touch. “You better stop while you still have the chance.” 

“But…” you trailed off, squeezing him for the third time and jumping when he hissed loudly through his teeth. “This seems pretty bad. Painful, even.” 

If he wasn’t so wound up, he would have laughed. “You don’t even know the half of it.” 

Sebastian was convinced that he was the hardest he had ever been. The dual sensations of your hand on his cock and your shallow breaths fanning across his cheek had him dripping precum, the fluid swiftly soaking through the fabric of his pants and creating a stark wet patch that you noticed immediately. Almost testingly, you swiped your thumb over the spot, sending a bolt of arousal straight through him that left him gasping with need. 

His willpower was shot. It was going to take a fucking miracle to come back from this. You had effectively taken every last bit of Sebastian’s resolve and crushed it all beneath your heel, leaving him trembling and keening as every part of your being invaded his senses and held him hostage. 

“Fuck– please,” he moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He couldn’t look at you right now– it would be the end of everything if he did. The end of this insanely euphoric moment, the end of his restraint, and maybe even the end of his friendship with you. This was… uncharted territory. He was scared to explore it, but gods, did he want to. “Please, I can’t– I can’t take it…” 

He heard you swallow, your hesitation evident in the way you paused before lifting your hand away from his groin. The wrist he had held apart from you slipped free, his fingers closing over nothing but air, and a wave of disappointment crashed over him. Every inch of skin you pried away left him emptier and emptier, his heart and his dignity deflating with each passing second. His chest felt tight, and he was fully prepared to sit there in agonizing silence while you gathered your things to leave as fast as your legs could take you. 

But then your hands were back– on either side of his face to tilt his head up to yours– and his sharp intake of breath was smothered by your soft, delectable lips pressing against his. 

Bloody hell. 

You weren’t leaving. 

A switch flipped. 

A carnal growl ripped from the back of his throat, and then he had you splayed out on your back with his knee wedged insistently between your thighs. He faintly heard the sound of your notes being scattered across the floor, but your startled gasp transforming into a hapless moan was more important. His lips crashed back into yours with zeal, the mask he had maintained this entire time dissipating like smoke in the wind, and his tongue bullied its way into your mouth, probing and tasting as though he didn’t have enough time to memorize every facet of information he unearthed. 

You tried to match his pace the best you could, nipping at his lips and breathing heavily into his mouth, but your attempts only annoyed Sebastian. He asserted dominance by grabbing your chin between his index finger and thumb, then pried your lips apart with his tongue and conquered your mouth wholly and without subtlety. 

“I need you,” he panted against your face, his fingers digging sharply into your hips. “I need you so bad, darling.”

You could only moan shakily when Sebastian dove back in to latch his lips over your pulse, peppering your neck with wet, sloppy kisses and decorating it with an assortment of love-bites. His teeth left a trail of imprints that his tongue worked to soothe, comforting you like he always had while hopelessly committing the taste of your salty skin to memory. 

Sebastian felt you shudder as he worked his way up the column of your neck to the sensitive area below your ear. He nipped at the warm flesh waiting for him there, and when you whined and shamelessly bared more of yourself to him, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding his clothed cock against your hip. “Please, fuck– let me taste you. I’ll do anything you ask, just spread your legs and let me make you feel good.”

Your breathing hitched, and you tried to turn your head towards him, but he was too busy panting against your neck to meet your flustered stare. “S-Sebastian–” 

“Please, darling. I’m fucking begging here. Let me in. Let me do this.” 

Sebastian sounded drunk, his mind positively swimming with lust. The prospect of getting to see you like this, of getting to touch you, was driving him absolutely insane. His voice was airy and reedy– almost choked as though he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. 

“I– I’ve never done this before,” you stammered softly, your cheeks flushing with humiliation at the revelation. 

Sebastian’s head snapped up, a fire burning behind his eyes as he stared down at you with newfound hunger, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had to look deranged. “You– no one has ever touched you like this? Never?” 

“I mean, I’ve been kissed before, but not…” you trailed off, suddenly bashful in the face of your inexperience. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

Something buried deep inside of him broke free at that moment– a wild, untamable piece of himself that salivated at the fact that you were a virgin. No one had ever laid with you before. No one had ever glimpsed the intimate, private parts of yourself that were always hidden beneath that damn uniform. He would be the first– he would be your first. It should have been impossible, but the thought alone made him harder, his cock straining and leaking so much precum that he wouldn’t be surprised if it was dripping through the fabric of his pants. 

Rational thinking returned to him then, and he was able to blink back the fog that shrouded his morals. “We can stop,” he croaked, not meaning a fucking word of it. “Fuck– tell me to stop and I’ll leave you alone. We can’t come back from this. Tell me to back off and I will.” 

“I…” uncertainty washed over your pretty features, and much like before, Sebastian’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He was so selfish. He was such a self-serving bastard– he didn’t want you to call him off. He wasn’t the religious type in the slightest, but for the first time in his entire life, Sebastian started honest to God praying that you wanted this. That you wanted him. 

He was going to have to make a point to pray more, because after a few tense beats of silence, he heard you shyly murmur, “I don’t want you to stop.” 

Fuck. Thank Merlin. 

There would be time later to be embarrassed about how his body sagged with relief. He was too busy kissing you again to bother with such a trivial emotion right now. Savoring your taste with a deep groan, Sebastian allowed himself a minute to grind against your hip, then moved back so he could begin the laborious process of stripping your too-tight trousers from your legs. It took longer than he would have liked, but once the attire reached the base of your ankles, he was able to rip them off and discard them haphazardly over his shoulder. 

“Need to burn those,” he growled. “They drive me crazy.” 

A brief huff of amusement came from you, and you squeezed your knees together in some feeble attempt to hide yourself from him. “They’re just pants.”

He didn’t have the mental capacity to get into why he had such a potent love-hate relationship with the clothing. Instead of explaining himself, he reached out to pry your legs apart, taking immense satisfaction in the way you squeaked and your entire face turned red. “Let me taste you. I’ve been wanting to for so fucking long– I swear I’ll make you feel good, love.” 

Sebastian was sure that if he opened a dictionary to look up the word ‘disoriented’, there would be a photo of your face printed right next to it. You had never looked at him like that before; flushed, wide-eyed, and with traces of both confusion and arousal shadowing your tight features. Your expression had no right to rile him up the way it did, but he wasn’t interested in hiding his thirst for you. Not anymore. 

“Are you sure?” You asked him, voice quivering. “That– I mean, if it’s gross or anything, don’t feel like you have to.” 

Sebastian scoffed. You had no clue how extensive his fantasies were. As if he could ever be grossed out by you. 

The level of innocence you displayed only spurred him on faster, and he eagerly sat forward to cover your mouth with his again, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your blouse so he could wrench it over your shoulders. Even though he was vibrating with barely contained need, he had to allow himself a moment to take in the sight of you completely bare, the staps of your brassiere hanging seductively over the sides of your arms and tightening the knot in the pit of his stomach. Your undergarments had to be as outdated as your trousers, because they were snug, short, and way too sheer to qualify as new. 

He needed to burn those, too. 

Sebastian watched you with predatory intent as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your unmentionables, letting his nails scratch against your thighs when he began to drag the clothing down your legs. Without your blouse in the way, he was able to see the full extent of your reddening skin, the color more vibrant than the Gryffindor banners that hung in the Great Hall. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, then stilled when the underwear was fully removed. Save for your brassiere, you were completely bare before him, and Sebastian audibly moaned when he looked down to find your folds glistening with moisture already. 

“I’m going to drink up everything you have to give me until there’s nothing left,” he braced his hands on either side of your hips to lower himself onto his stomach, taking care to plant soft, revering kisses against your hip bones. “I know you taste so fucking good. I just know it…” 

Your entire body tensed when you felt Sebastian exhale against your damp center, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled your intoxicating scent. Then before you could collect your bearings, he was licking a broad, flat stripe up your slit, collecting as much of your wetness as he possibly could, and the sensation made you jolt. “S-Sebastian–” you gasped, digging your fingers into the rumpled sheets of the bed in a bid to ground yourself. 

“Yeah, say my name,” he urged roughly, his chest swelling with male pride. The sound of his name on your lips had the same effect as a bolt of lightning; it sliced through him to his very core, electric and unbelievably erotic, and he brazenly covered the entirety of your cunt with his mouth, licking and sucking at whatever parts of you he could reach. 

The wetness that covered you was so extensive, it was hard to tell whether it was your own arousal or Sebastian’s saliva to blame. A cacophony of moans and whines tumbled from your throat without restraint, prompting him to dig his nails into your sides as he hauled you closer. He fucked his tongue into you with inhuman vigor, his jaw aching in protest, but he ignored the discomfort and continued to devour every drop of your essence like he would die if he didn’t. 

It was so messy, too. Sebastian could feel the moisture dripping down his chin, but that only inspired him to work harder– his grip on your waist turning so severe that he knew he would find finger shaped bruises there later. Another mark left by him. Another brand proving that you were his. 

“I knew it,” he panted hoarsely, his voice strained and deep as though he’d been screaming before now. “You taste so good, darling– so fucking sweet.”

“I– Sebastian, I–” you covered your face with your hands, the appendages shaking in earnest as your muscles began to tense. “Fuck, I think I–”

He sucked your clit between his lips then, laving his tongue over the swollen bud with so much pressure that your hips bucked against his face. The chuckle he let loose was guttural and dark, and he broke his unwavering concentration to glance up at you. “Are you close? You want to come for me, huh?” 

Sebastian knew you had to be embarrassed, because you were still hiding behind your hands, the heels of your palms digging into your sockets. He could faintly see the row of teeth-shaped marks that lined your neck, but the majority of his hard work from earlier was concealed by your forearms. That wouldn’t do. He reached up and wrenched one of your arms away to reveal your watery stare, the glassy sheen covering your eyes telling him everything he needed to know about how close to the edge you were. 

“Don’t hide from me. I want to see your face when you fall apart on my tongue.” 

“It’s embarrassing,” your voice shook, as did the hand Sebastian held in his own. “I can’t– it feels hot. Like I’m on fire. I can’t even think–” 

“Then don’t,” he interjected immediately, tenderly kissing the insides of your thighs in a way that made your stomach churn. “Don’t think. Just feel. Let me do all the work, and you just sit there and enjoy every second of it.” 

It was a simple enough concept, but you still yelped when he dove back in, the singular hand he kept on your waist pulling you down so he was smothered by your wet, pulsing cunt. Sebastian didn’t waste any time picking up where he’d left off, his eyes burning as your potent scent drove him into a frenzy. He inhaled sharply as his tongue poked and prodded incessantly, its only goal to collect as much of your slick as possible, the ferocity of his movements making you tremble. Your nerves were totally scorched as the heat within your body reached new levels, the pleasure building in your gut nearing a peak that you were almost afraid to fall over. 

“S-Sebastian, I can’t– ah!” Your words transformed into a keening moan when Sebastian sucked your puffy nub into his mouth again. The bedframe shook in time with your own vibrating, your eyes crossing as the symphony of ecstasy he gave to you climbed to its crescendo. Sebastian’s lungs burned from the lack of oxygen he sucked down, but he didn’t care. If he suffocated to death while fused to your sopping wet cunt, he would die a happy man. 

Breaking away from your clit for a brief moment, he hastily murmured, “Come on, love, let go. Use me and let go.” 

He released your arm and tucked his hand somewhere under his chest, your confusion lasting for all of two seconds before you felt his fingers snaking their way inside of you. There was no resistance thanks to the slick gushing from your hole, the wetness saturating his hand and making him groan with desire. Sebastian’s tongue continued to flick and press against your bundle of nerves with reckless abandon, his fingers pumping and curling in and out of you as you deliriously cried out his name. Your walls tightened around his digits, sucking them deeper at the same time your brows furrowed in alarm, and Sebastian knew he had you right where he wanted you. 

“Sebastian– wait, I can’t– I’m going to–” 

His eyes strained as he fixed them on your face, his lips barely parting from your clit as he encouraged you. “Come on, darling, come on my face. Be a good girl and let go– just let go.” 

The praise drove you clean over the edge, the coil in the pit of your stomach finally snapping as his voice and his fingers and his tongue reduced you to a quaking, moaning mess. Sebastian’s desperation for you consumed you, pure rapture washing over your limbs before they fell boneless against the mattress. Stars danced in the corners of your vision, and you heard and felt Sebastian groan against you before his unrelenting grip on your waist went slack. 

You hardly registered him slipping his fingers free from your cunt and climbing over you until his face was right in front of yours. Sebastian took a flurry of mental snapshots of you, tucking each one into the far reaches of his mind and vowing to himself that he would never forget the fucked-out expression you bore. He made a point to suck the remnants of your pleasure from his digits while maintaining eye contact, and you whimpered breathlessly at the sight. 

“You were so good for me,” Sebastian cooed as he gathered you up in his arms. He moved so his back was nestled against the pillows before repositioning you so your head was tucked against his shoulder. Soothingly, he carded his fingers through your hair as he asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed between deep, shuddering breaths. “What about you?” 

“More than okay. Don’t you worry about me.” 

“But…” your eyes flicked down at the same time he tried to cover the blossoming wet patch on his pajama pants. “I thought you didn’t–”

Almost sheepishly, he admitted, “I did. Trust me, that did more for me than you could possibly imagine. I’m sorry for being so aggressive. And for being such a prick today. I just… it’s been hard to rein it in around you recently.” 

He felt your chin dig into the side of his pec as you glanced up at him, the virtuous, doe-eyed look you fixed him with threatening to undo him all over again. “Rein what in?” 

“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t realize the effect you have on me, right?” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut as he dredged up the very thoughts that had been hounding him for years. “I’m hopeless where you’re concerned. I get stupid. I act like a daft, brainless idiot, and you just strut about without a clue. I thought I’d finally gotten the hang of keeping that under control, but…” 

“Apparently not,” you helpfully supplied, and Sebastian grunted confirmingly. Those blasted trousers of yours had nullified the remnants of his restraint. So had your eyes. And your hands and your voice. All of you was to blame, really. Like he’d said from the very beginning; he was hopeless where you were concerned. 

“Anyway, thank you for… well, that.” 

“Please don’t thank me,” your face pinched, your body going rigid. “Then it will feel transactional, and I don’t want that.” 

Fair point. “What do you want, then?” 

That rosy flush reappeared against your cheeks, and Sebastian had to beat back the smile that threatened to split his face in the wake of your obvious shyness. “I– well… is there anything I can do for you?” 

Yes. No. Maybe? Sebastian’s laugh was humorless, mostly because there wasn’t anything funny about how his cock twitched in interest at the offer. “I don’t think we need to venture down that path right now. Especially since you’ve already given up so much tonight. I honestly feel kind of bad that your first experience was me jumping your bones…” 

“But what if that’s what I want?” His heart leapt up into his throat so fast that he nearly choked. The kind of uncertainty that went hand in hand with inexperience was written all over your face, but the stubborn set to your jaw told Sebastian that you were serious. Was he dreaming? Maybe he had passed out in the bathroom and this was all a very lovely, very cruel figment of his imagination. You pressed on, “Maybe I want to walk down that path with you. There’s no one else I trust as much as you, so… what would be the harm?” 

This time, Sebastian’s chuckle was genuine. He blinked rapidly, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes that it would settle his nerves and calm his racing blood. It didn’t work. “In that case, there’s plenty you could do for me, darling. I still think we should save it for next time, though.” 

You appeared to chew the inside of your cheek, your brows furrowing as you contemplated something that interested Sebastian to no end. Then, before he could process what you were doing, the hand that had been splayed against his chest inched down tauntingly, your nails dragging lightly across his skin. His breathing hitched, and then it stopped entirely when you gripped him through his pants. Much like he’d expected, the conversation had roused his cock back to life, and he was achingly hard in your hand. 

“I want ‘next time’ to be right now,” you declared stubbornly, pulling a hiss from him when your fingers rubbed over the sensitive head of his length. “I’m a little curious about this. You recovered pretty fast, but if you’re too tired…”

The wicked gleam in your eyes conveyed quite clearly that you knew exactly what you were doing. Where had the bashful innocence gone? Sebastian had blinked and suddenly it was like he was staring at a different woman, the challenge in your voice leaving him with one daunting realization. 

Either he had created a monster, or there had always been one lurking beneath the surface. 

His cock twitched again, and Sebastian knew that he was so, so fucked. 

[midniqhtt]

sebastian sallow

masterlist • hogwarts legacy • 03/27/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 never forget I @zevrra

where sebastian is actually worried about MC and regrets casting crucio on them

𑣲 caught in the rain I @/zevrra

you and sebastian seek shelter inside an abandoned home where every feeling is laid to bare.

𑣲 truth or dare I @ppomumgranatum

Truths emerged and friendships were tested as you found yourself confronting two years' worth of suppressed feelings towards Sebastian. Drunk.

𑣲 the dance of love’s sweet potion I @/ppomumgranatum

When a potion meant to repel backfired, it became a mishap that turned your world upside down.

𑣲 marry me I @theealbatross

The 3 times Sebastian thought about marrying you and the 1 time he asked.

𑣲 fight the alchemy I @/theealbatross

Garreth asks why Sebastian isn’t dating you. Sebastian spirals.

𑣲 i love you, it’s ruining my life I @/theealbatross

Sebastian has the worst insomnia known to man and you are not dating him.

𑣲 never not been mine I @/theealbatross

Everyone wonders if you and Sebastian are together. Sebastian wonders when will everyone mind their own business.

𑣲 a habit to kick, an age old cure I @/theealbatross

you and Sebastian are now strangers but at your most vulnerable moment he picks up the pieces. only he knows. only he can.

𑣲 fever (what a lovely way to burn) I @shadowtriovibes

"since you saved Sebastian from Azkaban, he has met you in the common room every morning and you have gone to breakfast together. One morning he isn't there so you go to his room looking for him to find him in bed, poorly.”

𑣲 request I @/shadowtriovibes

Eric Northcott is relentlessly pursuing you, so Sebastian offers to act as your heroic boyfriend to get him off your back

𑣲 break a sweat part 2 part 3 part 4 I @/shadowtriovibes

sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

𑣲 mind if i move in closer? I @/shadowtriovibes

𑣲 it’s a sign of the times part 2 I @/shadowtriovibes

Rivals-to-lovers Sebastian and MC use a Time-Turner to travel to the future with Ominis in search for a cure for Anne. Instead they find a girl who's the spitting image of MC trying to sneak into the Restricted Section in the 1910s, only she has freckles like Sebastian

𑣲 fissured composure I @anto-pops

After watching you hold your own against a handsy classmate, Sebastian is feeling particularly needy and steals you away to the Undercroft to show you just how worked up your right hook got him.

𑣲 possessive touch I @/anto-pops

Sebastian has never been the sharing sort. He was happy to loan people notes or quills, maybe even the occasional book from the Restricted Section. But not you. Never you.

𑣲 sudsy confessions I @/anto-pops

Sebastian confessing his long-harbored love for you while you’re naked in a bathtub.

𑣲 request I @/anto-pops

𑣲 unspoken attraction I @arthenaa

The girls and you have a talk on who they'll date amongst the students in Hogwarts. No one mentions Sebastian despite being deemed the most handsome in your year. You wonder why?

𑣲 jealously, jealousy I @awkwardauthorwrites

𑣲 i think he knows I @/awkwardauthorwrites

Sebastian helps Y/N with an interesting request

𑣲 violets and verbena I @/awkwardauthorwrites

Two years have passed since the events in Hogwarts Legacy, in which Y/N has drifted away from Sebastian. What happens when she has to spend some time in the hospital wing and he comes to visit?

𑣲 in the middle part 2 I @/awkwardauthorwrites

After a few months of knowing the reader the boys suddenly realise one day they are falling in love with the reader and start to become a bit bitter towards each other and very jealous if another guy gives her attention.

𑣲 wildest dreams part 2 part 3 I @/awkwardauthorwrites

Ten years have passed since the events of Hogwarts Legacy and Y/N is invited back as part of a reunion to celebrate.

𑣲 diesel is desire I @wttcsms

sebastian sallow is a good friend. so good, in fact, that when you find yourself under the ungodly influence of a lust potion, he's willing to help give you some relief.

𑣲 trust fall I @fairytalesandlegacies

Sebastian Sallow teaches you how to fight against the Imperius Curse late one night, and in the process, some long-kept secrets are revealed.

𑣲 i need you I @ravenelyx

Sebastian has different ways of dealing with being hurt. One of them is burying his face in your chest while you cuddle him

𑣲 who do you smell? I @roarieluz

Sebastian Sallow has had a crush on Y/N for a while now, this isn't news to him but when a strong batch of amortentia is made for potions class it is hard to keep his mind clear of anything that isn't about you and what he wants to do to you.

𑣲 the night shift part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 I @writing-intheundercroft

You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

𑣲 a long time coming I @undergaunts

aka three times Sebastian is a flirt, one time he gets called out on it, and one time he finally does something about it.

𑣲 pining in potions class I @festivalsofmargot

Sebastian Sallow is forming a huge crush on you, and it’s hitting him all at once in a very annoying way. Something as simple as not being partnered with you in potions class eats away at him.

𑣲 pretty thoughts part 2 I @/festivalsofmargot

Sebastian is down bad for you, my dear reader. But a lot of overthinking on your part makes you blind to it. So, his only option is to keep chasing after you.

𑣲 a worrisome box of chocolates I @matchavellichor

𑣲 you look better in green part 2 I @fierymiasma

In which Sebastian sees the new transfer student wearing someone else’s scarf and proceeds to absolutely lose it.

𑣲 snow, scarves, and schemes I @spaceyaceface

Y/N is sick of Leander Prewett trying to court her. Luckily, she has a best friend named Sebastian Sallow who would love to help put an end to it. They devise a plan to pretend to court up until the Yule Ball. Should be simple, right? If only. 

𑣲 the one who stayed I @talesofesther

For a moment, Sebastian thought he lost you, and now the guilt for what happened is eating away at him.

𑣲 the winner takes all I @justauthoring

in which, leander prewett is a prick and sebastian shows him not mess with his girl.

𑣲 bludgered I @slytherizz

Sebastian never really knew what his friend saw in Isaac Cooper but he never questioned it - he made his friend happy. That is until a Quidditch match goes quickly awry and he realises his feelings for her may go far deeper than simple friendship.

𑣲 between the two of you I @cuffmeinblack

Rewriting of the events of the Shadow of the Study/Discovery quests.

𑣲 i crumble completely (when you cry) I @atlabeth

there's only one way to get into salazar slytherin's scriptorium.

𑣲 right where you left me I @anomalyaly

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

𑣲 in the shadow of the mountain I @ellecdc

fed up with Sebastian. After admitting he "shouldn't have acted so bitterly about your goblin friend", you expect him to be in better spirits on your next quest. He keeps putting the both of you in danger, and you've had it.

𑣲 i remember I @whizzing-fizzbee

You died during your seventh year at Hogwarts before you could tell your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, how much you loved him. But when he discovers a box of your pensieve memories, he learns the comforting, yet cruel truth.

[voguesriot]

NOT A LOT / JUST FOREVER ✹ sebastian sallow

( summary ) when harry potter said he wanted a reason to skip potions, he didn’t expect to wind up developing a kinship with a portrait of a young witch by the kitchens, but how can he complain when her smile is just as welcoming as her stories?

( pairing ) sebastian sallow x female!reader (mc), platonic!harry potter x female!reader, small mention of ominis gaunt x anne sallow

( notes/warnings ) set during the philosophers stone and the end of the deathly hallows. this was supposed to be a mostly seb/minorly harry fic but it kind of inverted because i love harry potter and want to wrap him in a warm blanket and keep him safe forever. also!!! this is the first proper fic i’ve written in over a year so pls be kind 🤍. angst but mostly fluff! reader assuming a motherly role with harry! low-key sebastian assuming a fatherly role with harry too! canon-compliant violence mentions! minimal usage of y/n! not proofread!

Harry Potter had known torment like no other. Stood little over 5 foot tall, he had felt blistering rage poured from callous hands and the bitter loneliness nipping at his guts. But none of it, not the broom cupboard, not the scar, would be worse that enduring another double potions class.

And so, the boy who lived took a left turn down a spiral staircase instead of carrying on to the dungeons and followed the candlelit corridors until he found himself facing a dead-end. It was, he thought, maybe the most peaceful part of the castle he’d seen in his two months of admittance. There was no cobwebbed ceiling corners, no scathing suits of armour, no ghastly ghosts taunting his every breath. The walls were barren except for a lone portrait frame displayed on the far wall. Harry walked closer.

It was an empty frame, holding only a background of red curtains and a plush sofa. He wondered who that frame was meant to home and worried his footsteps had frightened them off. He turned to walk away, to find a shadowy area by one of the far courtyards where he could waste the rest of his two hours. But just as he did so, back already to the wall, he heard a gentle voice.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?”

Harry’s head whipped to the frame once more with such speed he wouldn’t be shocked to feel a sharp pain in the morning. Sat on the sofa was now a witch who looked to be older than him, if only by a few years. She wore a white collared shirt with a red tie and a long grey skirt beneath dark brown overcoat. There was a scar on her left cheek that Harry believed he’d find intimidating on anyone else, but something in the way she smiled at him, the softness of her eyes, told him he’d struggle to find an off-putting thing about her.

He hadn’t even realised he’d been staring, lips parted, question ignored, until she let out a small laugh. Harry Potter had been laughed at before, he’d been laughed at before he’d even been born, he knew what it meant for two people to share a look and a giggle when you speak — or, more aptly, don’t speak. But the insult he was accustomed to never came. He felt no wave of shame, no cheeks reddened with embarrassment. In a strange act of fate, he found himself laughing with her.

“I’m Y/n Sallow. Pleased to make your acquaintance…” She paused and nodded for him to introduce himself.

“Harry. Harry Potter.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “I’ve heard many things about you. It’s good to put a face to the name. So, Harry, my question still remains; are you lost?”

“I have double potions.”

She laughed again and so did he. “I see. You know, I remember your professor when he was about your age. Terribly frightened boy, but wildly genius.”

“He hates me for something that isn’t my fault.”

“People tend to channel anger when their other feelings are too confusing. It’s easier for them. But I know how you feel, love. Believe me.”

“Nobody knows how I feel.” Harry didn’t like how self-effacing he sounded, but to him it was mere truth. Nobody else had lost in the same ways he had and been forced to live with its guilt, nobody else was thrust into the war of a world they didn’t understand.

“You only say that because you haven’t taken History of Magic yet.”

Harry looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Get comfortable.” The boy took off his robe and folded in the floor, sitting atop it and crossing his legs, elbows resting on his knees.

For the next three hours, Harry paid no need to the fact he had missed a charms lesson, as he found himself immersed in the stories she told. Of long-dormant repositories of ancient magic, of goblins, and poachers, and graphorns, and plight, the scale of what he faced seemed not dwarfed, but levelled by that of her own.

She told him of the fears she felt as she entered the Great Hall, how lonely she was on her first day, and Harry felt his heart swell at the fortune of meeting Ron as early as he did. When he said this, she smiled and said Ron reminded her of an old friend, a former Hufflepuff and renowned magiczoologist.

“She said she didn’t have many friends before I arrived, which caught me by such surprise, because I believed her to be one of the kindest witches I had ever met. One of the bravest too. In fact, she led me on one of the most remarkable adventures of my life…” She said, a melancholic smile on her face as she talked of Golden Snidgets and centaurs.

As their second hour drew to a close, she brought her storytelling to a sudden halt. “Enough of me. Darling, how has Hogwarts been for you?”

Harry paused, having barely reflected on the question himself. “It’s been good.” A moment of silence. “I think.”

“You think?”

“It’s just…” His breath caught in his throat, as millions of thoughts came to mind but to words followed suit. “I just feel so out of place. I found out about magic two months ago, and suddenly everyone has these big expectations of me because of what happened when I was a baby.” She nodded in understanding and felt her heart break in her chest.

When you looked at him, you saw him not as a prodigal son or a budding star, but as the child he was. His glasses slightly crooked, almost hanging off his nose, his cheeks red and rosy, his eyes downcast. He looked a mirror of you, and you hated it with a ferocity you hadn’t felt in years.

It was supposed to end with you, the torment of children, the horror of destiny. You still remembered the terror you felt when you first touched that portkey, when Fig told you more of those iron-clad knights would follow, when the fate of a world you knew naught about was thrust upon your fifteen-year-old shoulders.

When Ranrok was defeated and you were told you’d be safe, you were lied to. The poachers still came in droves, angrier, smarter, fit to kill with the taste of your blood in their mouths. More loyalists subscribed to Ranrok’s ideals and strived off the image of your head mounted on a wall. There was always new monsters to fight, new people in need, new reasons to run away and forge a new life.

But you never did, you never took the bait. You knew that if you left, if you abandoned your responsibilities that eventually they would fall onto another you. Another child born with your gift, and they too would know true loneliness and fear and you could not let that happen.

You graduated and became a freelance cursebreaker. If people felt unsafe, you were the first port of call. You risked your life with the sole mission of preventing another child from filling your shoes. You did all this, and it meant nothing. It meant nothing because now, over a century later, a young boy is being punished for actions he didn’t commit, tormented for events out of his control.

Harry Potter was cut from the same cloth as you, and so, you listened.

The bell tower tolled and sent a shock down Harry’s spine. Was it lunchtime already? He stood up and dusted off his cloak. “Do you ever get lonely?” He asked. “All the other portraits have others around them.”

“I rarely dwell in this frame, to be honest. I have a few others around, there’s one by the Magical Theory classroom on the fourth floor of the Astronomy wing. That’s where I spend most of my time, but I’ve got two in Hogsmeade, another in a run-down hamlet southwest of here, even have one in America.” You gave him a sweet smile. “The portrait of the old potions professor, Aesop Sharp, sends word for me whenever he sees someone come down this hall. Say hello to him when you pass, will you?”

He nodded his head, halfway down the corridor before he turned around and hoped you hadn’t gone yet. “Thank you for this. Is it—” he paused again and took a deep breath, “is it alright if I come here again? If I can talk to you again?”

His heart pounded in his throat, caught with a fear of you saying no. Of laughing at him for finding such comfort in a mere conversation. Harry Potter had long since accepted that he’d never truly know the feeling of being cared for, being heard. He had made his peace with such a thing. He was a child now, but he’d grow. He’d grow in his own and he’d grow to be a kind man who cared for others with kindness never afforded for him. He was okay with this, but now that he’d met you, he knew he couldn’t live that way anymore.

He’d never had enough material things to be selfish over, but he’d be selfish now if he needed to. He needed this again, this feeling of being truly seen and understood.

Ever since he came to the wizarding world, Harry had been told he had his mother’s eyes, her kindness and warmth. Looking at you now, he figured you were the closest to her he’d find. In the softness of your gaze, he shed the weight of his worries.

You smiled again and nodded. “Tell dear Aesop to send word whenever you need me, darling.”

His feet felt lighter as they travelled up the steps, eagerly searching for a portrait he hadn’t noticed before until he was outside the potions classroom and read the golden plaque. Aesop Sharp.

The man had a gruff face with rugged stubble and scars on his chin. His lips quirked up with a thin veil of remembrance. “I take it she arrived on time?”

“She said to say ‘hi’. And thank you.”

“She thanked me?”

“I’m thanking you.” Aesop only hummed and nodded.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, boy. Other than the fact that your potions professor will be kept uninformed of your detour.” Harry’s cheeks flushed a deep red and Aesop let out what could almost be considered a laugh. “It’s best you run along now. The rest—the first—of your classes will drag on an empty stomach.”

“I was wondering when you’d return.” Sebastian teased from the frame. “Almost four whole hours on my own with only Weasley for company.”

As you joined Sebastian in the portrait, settling comfortably on the sofa he’d been sprawled across, his arm found a comfortable place around your shoulders, holding you close.

Garreth, whose portrait was on the corner wall to the left of yours by his request, let out a hearty laugh at that. “You say that as though you weren’t the one recount all the old days, Sallow. No need to try impress the lady, you fooled her years ago.”

“Don’t be rude, Garreth. It’s sweet he cares so much after all these years.” Poppy chided from her frame beside his, appearing just as Natty did across from her.

“Where’s Ominis?” You asked, expecting a quip from your dear friend.

“He went to visit Feldcroft. Said he missed the place and wanted to see how ol’ Victoria is holding up.” You smiled as Sebastian mentioned Ominis and Anne’s great-great granddaughter.

“It’s is sweet that they stay in such close touch.” You smiled. “We must visit again soon. Adam is still in London, I think. His daughter is starting Hogwarts next year. Same with Sarah’s son.” Your heart swelled at the thought of the family of your own.

“It’ll be nice not to be the only one here with family visits in the castle.” Garreth said.

“My boy will be nothing like your Percy.” Sebastian defended.

“If he’s anything like you, he’ll be exactly like the twins, though.”

“I heard Imelda gave them an earful last week after they almost blew up her frame by the Trophy Room.” Natty laughed. “They’re definitely Weasley’s.”

“There’ll be more of them than there is Ravenclaw’s with the way things are going.” Poppy commented. “A young boy this year, and a girl next?”

“What can I say, we’re family people! I heard Ron’s befriended the Potter boy.” At this, your ears perked up.

“Harry?”

“Uh-oh.” Sebastian taunted, toying with a stand of your hair. “Something tells me you’ve taken someone under your wing again.”

You pinched his side as the others chuckled joked between themselves. “You say that as though it’s a bad thing. I thought you liked when I cared for people.”

“I do.” He smiled, putting his hand on the back of your head and pulling you close to press a kiss to your temple. “Just find it a bit funny is all.”

“I want all of you to keep an eye on him. I was talking him today and I could feel this— this— this loneliness hanging around him. He was talking to me and it felt like I was talking to myself at fifteen.”

A silence washed over the portraits. They’d seen you through it all. They saw you when Lodgok passed, when Fig passed, when everything worked against you and there was nothing they could do to help. Sebastian’s grip on you tightened, guilt stirring in the pits of his stomach.

It had been almost two centuries since everything with Anne’s curse had come to pass. He’d apologised countless times, kneeling before you with his head hung his shame and your hands held tightly in his, tears staining your skirts. You’d forgiven him just as many. You cradled his face and kissed his cheeks and told him that what happened then mattered no more than what you had for dinner the night prior. He was still your love, and you were the lone focus of his devotion, that was what mattered.

But time does not heal all wounds, and there would always be a part of you that remembered how he had to mean Crucio and how he didn’t write to you at all that summer, just as there would always be a part of him that yearned to go back and beat sense into the younger version of him who saw you as only a means of rescuing Anne.

They all knew how important the safety of the boy would grow to be to you, and made a silent pact to follow through with whatever you asked.

“I still remember when James and Lily were in first year.” Lamented Poppy. “She knew how to put a boy in his place. Could’ve learned a lot from her in our years.”

“She was so lovely, too. I always knew she’d become Head Girl. She reminded me of Amit. Always so smart but just as kind.” Natty sighed. “How’s Amit doing anyways, Y/n? You were the last to visit the library.”

“He’s well. Apparently a seventh year recognised him from his books the other day, he’s just as bashful as ever. Got red even recounting the story.” You grinned fondly.

“I remember how jealous Sebastian was on your first Astronomy lesson when Professor Shah volunteered Amit to share a telescope with you instead of him.” Garreth laughed, a deep laugh that came from the back of his throat.

“I was not jealous!”

“You were.” It seemed Ominis had a penchant for arriving just when Sebastian needed to be put in his place. “I couldn’t see it but I could sense it. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“I couldn’t tell, if that makes you feel better.” You attempted to console.

“He professed his love to you for a year and you couldn’t tell. That’s no consolation.” It seemed he had a penchant for catching you out as well.

“Easy, Gaunt.” Sebastian warned. “Let’s not forget five years of pining for Anne. Makes our thing look like a breeze.”

Your friend halted and shook his head, a breathy laugh escaping him. “You have me there, Sebastian.”

“How’s Vic?”

“She’s good. Really good. Asking after the lot of you, Poppy especially.” The former magiczoologist furrowed her brows. “Said your research papers on mooncalves have been an invaluable asset to her work on rescuing and rehoming them.”

“I always knew she’d do brilliant things.” Poppy beamed. “It was a guarantee given who her family is.”

You settled further into Sebastian’s embrace as the conversation rolled on, head on his shoulder and relishing in his warmth. This was the kind of peace you so desperately longed for in your girlhood, this was the home you fought so hard to protect, safe in the arms of your love and the company of your family.

You could only pray Harry found the same someday.

It became routine for the boy to visit your portrait over the months that passed, so much so that Aesop no longer needed to send for you when Harry passed because you’d be there already, waiting.

You felt a kinship with him that you could only compare to the bond you had felt with your own children all those years ago. You loved your great-grandchildren dearly, but they had inherited your wanderlust and seemed nearly impossible to get a hold of, a feat made even more difficult given your inability to do… anything, really. But Harry was here, in need of guidance, a service you were more than willing to give.

When you heard he won quidditch matches, you’d leap from your sofa and nearly wept with pride, just as you did with every assignment result he relayed to you. Harry seemed to preen to your praise.

You quickly became his confidant. He told you of his years with the Dursleys, his troll encounter at Halloween (where you had laughed at another similarity between the pair of you), his fears of Voldemort, and, eventually, his plans to find the Philosopher’s Stone.

“You must promise me you’ll be careful, Harry.” You warned. “It’s no small feat you’re about to undertake, do not underestimate it by any means. Without a doubt, you’ll be trialled before you find the stone, you have to keep a clear head. Do not let yourself get distracted, if only for a moment.”

There was a taught crease between your brows and your shoulders were tensed with worry. The boy seemed almost apologetic as he nodded. “I swear it. Ron and Hermione will help me too. I won’t be alone.”

You remembered how happy he was when he spoke of his friends, so similar to how you did. He seemed to glow with the joy of being accepted not despite being know, but because of it instead. “You keep an eye out for them as well. I don’t want to hear any stories of a first year sent to the Hospital Wing.”

An authoritative edge laced your voice that set Harry’s spine straight, heart clenching at the protectiveness you showed over him and those he held close.

“Harry,” your words were gentler now, softer, “you’re a brilliant wizard, destined to do great things, but you do not have to do them now. Not if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready. I have to do this. If I don’t, who else will?”

In a humbling moment, you realised there was nothing you could say to the boy that wouldn’t be wholly hypocritical. “Just—” you sighed, “promise me that you’ll come visit when you’re done, let me know you’re safe, tell me of your adventure.”

“I promise.” He smiled.

Later that evening, when curfew had long been set, you found yourself visiting the Trophy Room for the first time in many months. You smiled at Imelda as you passed through the portrait across from her.

“Hello, old friend.” You grinned warmly, stepping into the portrait of Eleazer Fig, tucked away behind the Goblet of Fire.

The man seemed to melt in your presence, a bright smile taking over his face as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“It’s been far too long, sweet girl.” He said in your ear, still holding you close.

“I fear an apology is in order.” You said almost feebly.

“What ever for?”

“I believe I now know the torment you felt in our year together.” A laugh escaped you. “I’ve developed a friendship with the young Potter boy.”

Fig nodded his head in understanding. “You worry for the child?”

“With every dawn. To know he’s in such danger and I am unable to help— it’s a cruel torture.”

“I know.” His hands found your own. “No child should have to face what he will — what you did. But if you stand by him whenever he calls, know that is the help he needs. The support of someone who has seen what he has and come out to lead a better life will give him the hope he needs to persevere.”

You hadn’t realised there were even tears in your eyes until they dropped onto your cheeks. It was one of Fig’s many talents to draw the rawest, most powerful emotions from within you.

Over the years, you’d gone to him when the slightest problems left you upset. You’d run to his portrait whenever you didn’t want to sit through History of Magic and sit on the floor and tell him everything there was to tell, from your breakfast that day to the deepest fears in year heart.

“Believe me, child. If he is in any way like you, he will shock you with abilities. I know you shocked me.” He moved to cradle your face softly, resting his forehead against your own.

“I feel so helpless. None of what he stands before is fair. He’s only a boy.” He knew the truth of your words, for they’d been said to him before Harry Potter had even been born. I am so helpless. None of this is fair. I’m only a girl.

“All you can do for him is let him know that you will always be there, never to judge, only to support. The boy needs comfort and normalcy, so that is what you must remain.”

“You’ve always known just what to say.” You smiled at him, face wrought with melancholia.

“It has always been easy to speak with you, friend. You were the closest I’d ever gotten to a child of my own.” His own eyes shone now. “Miriam truly would’ve adored you. The pair of you would’ve driven me mad.”

You let out a watery laugh and pulled him into another tight embrace, your chin tucked over his shoulder, anchoring you to him as you stayed that way for an indiscernible about of time before making your way down to your lone portrait to anxiously wait for Harry’s arrival.

The end of the school year drew close faster than any of the others had, you were sure of it, and soon Harry was sat before you, still shaking with the excitement of winning Gryffindor the House Cup, telling you of how happy the last year had made him.

“I’ll miss you, though.” He frowned. “Don’t suppose you have any portraits near Surrey?”

“I’m afraid not, sweet one. But I’ll be here when you return, eagerly awaiting your stories of summer. Maybe I’ll have some new ones myself too.”

A comfortable silence passed through you both, Harry pulling at him fingers and you looking down at him warmly. “I’m so proud of you, Harry.” He looked up at you quickly, a flicker of shock on his face.

“You’re so brave, so strong, so kind. You’ve dealt with more danger this past year than most wizards do in their lifetime, and you’re still here to tell the tale, still smiling while you do it. It’s a remarkable thing. I hope you know that.”

A tear caught the light trickling in from the corridor’s high windows as it dropped from his eyes, irises swimming with gratitude and remnants of pain he was not yet willing to divulge. He thanked you once more with an earnest sincerity that was so rare to see, and then left to pack his things, swearing to visit you again on September 1st.

As Harry sat staring out his window in The Leaky Cauldron at the dull night sky, knees pulled to his chest and hands clasped tightly together, he wondered how it was possible for him to feel more alone than ever, exiled from the house he grew up in, waiting anxiously for his thirteenth birthday to come.

He wanted to be back in Hogwarts. People cared for him in Hogwarts. You cared for him in Hogwarts. Here the bed creaked and the pipes clanged and the wind whistled as it came through the windows and his loneliness made him feel sick. So Harry did what he always did when he needed a distraction, he went for a walk.

The floorboards groaned beneath his weight, a small sound seeming so mammoth when laid before a silent hallway. If he listened hard enough, Harry could hear the quiet drone of conversation and drunken laughter from lingering patrons downstairs, but he carried on his path away until it was just him and his steady breaths.

“Are you lost?” A portrait asked making the boy jump from his skin. A masculine voice, deep and authoritative but complete with a soothing edge Harry likened vaguely to Arthur Weasley or Dumbledore.

Harry turned to face his frame. It was a simple model, nothing fancy enough to seem out of place in its dwelling, but polished enough to know it was revered. The man was beautiful, Harry thought. With freckled cheeks, big brown eyes, and a slightly flattened nose. He smiled at Harry’s hesitation, a small, kind thing, as though he were welcoming an old friend or coaxing a fawn from hiding.

Sebastian Sallow. Auror. 1875-1938. The golden plaque beneath him read. The last name made Harry’s breath hitch. Sallow.

You’d told him stories of your lover many times, of how you found each other just as you needed it most, how you stayed by him when no others would and how he returned the debt in kind. Harry had almost been able to fall in love with the man through your words alone.

“You’re Y/n’s husband.” He blurted without thinking, and Sebastian’s small smile grew to split his face, a deep laugh rumbling from his chest.

“It is one of my grander accomplishments.” A confident content that could almost be confused for smugness settled on his face. “And you’re Harry Potter. I’ve heard many things about you. Seems you’ve managed to quite entrance my wife.”

A dark red flooded Harry’s cheeks. “She’s very kind.”

“She is indeed. Though, she’d kill me if I didn’t ask what brings you here.”

Harry paused. “I couldn’t stay home any longer.”

Sebastian clicked his tongue, humming in acknowledgment. “I understand. Are you alright?”

It was a simple question, one he normally would’ve brushed off without second thought, but Sebastian seemed to share your ability of coaxing out Harry’s deepest truth. “I don’t know.”

A tense beat passed between them, neither knowing exactly what to say, both knowing you would if you were there, until Sebastian eventually broke the silence. “I remember when I felt like that.” Harry looked at him inquisitively.

“Christmas in our fifth year, I had… a falling out with my uncle and sister. The thought of going back home made me feel ill, so I didn’t. For the first time, I spent the holiday in the castle, just as she did.”

December 22nd, 1890.

A grey cloud seemed eternally settled above Sebastian’s head and the sight of your friend’s unspoken torment made your skin crawl. Ominis had just departed for Gaunt Manor, making hushed comment on the fact he’d likely be back within a week. You wished he hadn’t left at all.

Your worry for Sebastian had been gnawing away at you ever since the events surrounding Salazar’s Sciptorium. You feared for the path he threatened to follow, the darkness settling into the far corners of his mind. His nose was always stuck in the damned book you found in that room, reading, searching, and scouring for anything that would help Anne.

A small part of you knew he would give his own life to absolve her of that pain, a larger part feared he would give yours too.

“Have you eaten?” You asked him, taking a gentle approach with deliberate steps towards his hunched-over frame, careful not to startle him.

“Hm?” He hummed in half-acknowledgment.

“I said, ‘Have you eaten?’” There was a smile evident in your voice as you pulled out the chair beside him.

“Oh— Uhm, not yet.” He brushed off your concern. You thought Sebastian was clever, but if he truly was, he would’ve known you wouldn’t let up that easily.

You sighed, standing up again and patting his shoulders. “Up.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Up. You’ve been sat here every day this past week from dawn till dusk and I will not let it carry on any longer.” He hung his lead low and shook it slightly and you could tell he was fighting a smile. “If you won’t move for the sake of yourself, do it for the sake of chivalry. I intend to go to Hogsmeade and don’t wish to go alone. For safety.”

“You and I both know you’d best any opponents that cross us before I could even ready my wand.” He laughed, but he was slowly gathering his things and tucking them beneath his arm.

“Not if my opponent is loneliness. Come on, Sebastian. Entertain me.” You didn’t even attempt to hide your smugness as he stood by your side, holding his arm out for you to take. “How charming.” You commented, your hand resting on his elbow as he guided you from Hogwarts.

After spending almost every day of the past three months in your company, Sebastian had come to think nothing of mindless affection.

He noticed it first in your interactions with Natsai. How you pulled her into a tight embrace after she won a round of Crossed Wands, only letting go when it was your turn to duel.

Then it was with Poppy. How the pair of you always seemed to sit or stand close enough to each other to touch in some way. How she’d place her head on your shoulder and you’d rest yours on top of hers.

Even with Anne, who you had only just met, you placed your hands on her shoulders ever-so-softly as she told you of her strife. It seemed to natural for you to touch those you cared for.

He realised you were more hesitant to show affection to your male classmates. You’d hold Garreth’s arm as you laughed at a joke, but always retracted after a few seconds. But the Scriptorium changed everything.

In the moment, he supposed it was mere adrenaline, that the way you tightly squeezed Ominis after his parseltounge display was a mere product of high tensions. But when he cast Crucio, he saw Ominis react in a way he never had before. Ominis grabbed you and held you close as you cried and thrashed in his arms, hands shaking as he fought every urge in him to leave you alone and fend off him own haunting memories.

After that, you and Ominis became more freely affectionate than ever, sparking more than a few courtship rumours that made Sebastian’s heart race more than they should have. The blond boy would let you lead him through crowded areas where his wand might have failed him. You’d let him lean against you in History of Magic.

Your closeness with Sebastian was forged from a moment of weakness on his end.

A week prior to the Christmas break, the day Sebastian decided not to return to Feldcroft, you’d caught him sat on a bench by the greenhouses, watching the wildflowers billow in the moonlight. His hands were clasped before him, his knee kept bouncing, and his brows were furrowed into a deep line.

You approached him just as you had in the library, with a soft tenderness, inviting him to the Room of Requirement for some space to clear his mind.

He took his anger out of conjured training dummies and yelled so loud you had to move your diricawls to a different vivarium so they wouldn’t get scared until, eventually, he collapsed onto one of the sofas you had set up in the middle of the room. The last thing he remembered of that night was your fingers combing through his hair. And then he woke up, his head resting in your lap, your hands still in his tresses. He sat up quickly, instantly aware of how compromising such a position could be.

You were fast asleep, head tilted back on the sofa in a way that must’ve been most uncomfortable. His cheeks warmed at the thought of you sitting through that for his sake. He took off his robe and draped it over your frame, smiling as you subconsciously curled around it.

From that night on, it felt like a barrier had been broken between the two of you. Sebastian’s hand would seek yours beneath tables, his touch would linger on the small of your back in Hogsmeade.

“She always made me feel welcomed.” He said to Harry, eyes glazed over as he stayed half-distracted is his reminiscence. “She did that for everyone.” A laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “I remember all of our daughter’s friends wanted to come stay at our home just to see her. No matter how busy she was with work, she’d make them food and sweets and entertain whatever stories they had to tell her.”

Harry found himself laughing too, a sense of longing rooting him in his spot. He watched Sebastian, who he’d read about as a formidable curse-breaker unafraid of anything, turn to nothing more than a smitten schoolchild at the recollection of your younger memories and wondered what it would’ve been like to hear such stories from his own father.

“When she passed, it seemed as though the world itself stopped to grieve. Our Annie didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know how to help her. I mean, how can you tell a child her mother is dead?” Sebastian was vaguely aware that he was preaching to the wrong choir, but he so rarely got to wallow in the pain he felt all those years ago and found himself swept into its storm all over again.

The word ‘child’ caught Harry’s ears and made him look at Sebastian in confusion. “How could Anne be a child when Y/n passed? She said you had her at thirty.”

Sebastian’s mind cleared, shock melting to realisation on his face as the fact you’d kept your death from Harry dawned on him. “She was thirty-eight when it happened.”

“How?” Harry found himself asking without care for how insensitive it may have come across.

“It was supposed to be her final mission before retirement. She’d been worked to the bone for over twenty years, and if I carried on in my post, we’d have had more than enough money to carry on comfortably while she minded Anne. She was promised an easy case to finish it off, something about a loose canon in the south of France. She insisted to bring me along for ‘aid’ but I knew it was because the year prior I’d made comment about wanting to visit.”

“The case itself was fine, an old witch had written a barely legible spell book centuries before our time and passed it down from generation to generation as nothing more than mantle decoration, but it fell into the hands of a reckless wizard. Between the two of us, he was contained easily, but he had a wife who didn’t know the full story. She saw none of his wrongdoings and only us defeating and detaining him. She cast a killing curse on me whilst my back was turned and—” His breath caught in his throat.

“Her valiance had always been both my most and least favourite trait of hers. She pushed me out of the way before anyone could blink.”

A heavy silence settled over them both. A pit weighed in Harry’s stomach, stoking a fire of anger at the injustice of the Wizarding World.

His mother was a kind woman. His father was a kind man. You were kind. And what kindness was afforded to you in return? A cold death by an uncaring wand? Is that what truly came from devotion? Is that what would come to him?

“I’m sorry.” Was all he managed to say to Sebastian.

“There’s no need. I’m with her now.” The man smiled back. “It’s funny, when we were younger, I would be so annoyed every time an artist requested to commission a painting of her because it took away from the time I could spend with her. But once she passed, I couldn’t have been more grateful for them, because it gave me infinite chances to speak with her again.”

It wasn’t long before Harry felt the gentle temptations of sleep crawl to the forefronts of his mind and he bid Sebastian adieu after making the portrait promise to say hello on his behalf.

Decades had passed now since that first fateful day in the potions corridor. Harry had grown from a feeble and uncertain boy to a man weathered by grief but uplifted by the love he gave and received in turn.

He recalled you saying once how you wished for him the same family you made with Sebastian and he liked to believe that he now did. His eldest son radiated a nervous energy as he hovered by the front door of his girlfriend’s parents house, his other children stood behind him, giggling at their brother’s anxiety, Ginny stood by his side and smiled up at him with a knowing look.

It was the first time they were meeting the girl’s family, having met her once or twice in passing when they dropped James Sirius off at 9 3/4, and Harry couldn’t have been more excited if he tried. The way his son seemed to glow at the mention of the girl put him in mind of how he did with Ginny, how Rob did with Hermione, how Sebastian had that night in the Leaky Cauldron.

He wondered how the two of you fared in the years since he last spoke with you. It seemed as he travelled for auror work, he found less and less time to spend in the Three Broomsticks speaking with a painting over a few too many firewhiskeys. He hoped you were well and that you’d be proud of what he managed to accomplish, that he carried on the ‘chosen one’ lineage with a happy ending just as you had before.

Before he could wallow any longer, the door swung open to reveal a woman with a warm smile and brown eyes. “Hello!” She beamed.

“Amelia?!” Ginny exclaimed with a bright before introductions could be made. The woman’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Ginny Weasley?!” The redhead ushered her children inside to give the other woman a tight hug. “Merlin, you’ve changed since Hogwarts.” She let out a breathy laugh, holding Ginny by the shoulders.

“We were in the same year.” Ginny explained to her husband while Amelia told the children her daughter was just ahead in the front room.

“Lovely to meet you officially, Harry.” Amelia smiled and shook his hand. “My husband’s just popped down to the shop to get some wine and I’m finishing up the dinner, so make yourselves comfortable. Food should be ready in about ten minutes.”

Ginny went inside to greet the girl her son was so besotted by while Harry stayed back to hang her coat. As he walked toward the front room, he took his time in admiring the artwork lining their walls. They were all nice pieces, although nothing seemed to grab his attention until he saw the plaque on the last one before the door.

He could hear the fire crackling and his family laughing, but there was only one thing he could focus on. Y/n and Sebastian Sallow.

He dared not look up for fear he’d somehow misremembered the name of the woman who saved his school time sanity and raised his hopes for naught. He kept his eyes firmly in the plaque until he heard that same soft voice once again.

“Hello, sweetheart. I thought you’d gotten lost.”

©voguesriot 2025

taglist (comment or send an ask if you want to be added!): n/a

[theealbatross]

ominis: put a finger down if you were nice to a girl to use them for your own gain then played yourself, caught feelings, and is now horrendously obsessed with them that you got sick because they chose Amit Thakkar for one charms project

sebastian, on his last finger: i don't like this game

[thatboisus]

girlhood is staying up late to read the top posts in an x reader tag

[authorellasallow]

Soft Fabric, Hard Feelings

pairing(s): Sebastian Sallow x Reader

words: 3.6k

summary: After losing your virginity to Sebastian Sallow and graduating Hogwarts, you stumble across the Room of Requirement one summer day in July for some research and end up finding him in there by coincidence.

You haven't talked to Sebastian Sallow since graduation, but things become a difficult task when you spot Sebastian wearing gray sweatpants for the very first time.

warnings: contains nudity, sexual themes and mature content that is not advised for younger viewers. all characters are aged up!

a/n: I wrote it in Ao3 too hehe. dedicated to my discord fam for the light pressure. you could join us for laughs and content here's the link too. enjoy xx

===================

The day had been humidly hot. You’d been taking several side quests that morning, in seek of informative clues on an artifact, but had to stumble into the castle to find a few historic books that might’ve contained information about it.

Your boots echoed over Hogwarts halls. The castle had been empty. It only made sense since it was mid-July and everyone practically needed to take advantage of their break. Only the portraits were there to feel less lonely, yet they stared at you oddly for being there when classes weren’t in session.

You were melting by the time you slipped into the Room of Requirement. Luckily, the secluded room had everything you required: a quiet space, a cooling charm, and the one book you were in need of.

Even Deek, the elf, took his time for a break, so you took full advantage of an empty castle and slipped off the sticky first layer of your gear, throwing it messily over the sofa in the room.

“Ah,” You let out softly, taking a seat on the sofa for a brief moment.

Only a tank top and your rusty pants stayed intact.

You were in need of a nap, but when you were nearing a dream state, a small noise caught your attention. Your eyes opened, looking around the setting, but witnessed nothing.

Instead of sleeping more, you slipped up from the sofa and began to scan your wand over the small library you organized since your fifth year. It was surprising to think after years, it was still clean and organized.

“History of - no, The Ancient - no, that’s not it.” You bit your lip, struggling to find the book that you needed. “I swear it was in here before grad—“

“Err,”

A voice cut the concentration and you nearly hit your head above the small library shelf from the call. And you turned, confronting a figure you didn’t expect to see on a hot July.

You hadn’t seen Sebastian Sallow since graduation. Not that it was on purpose, but a few weeks before the ceremony, there were drunken confessions about being virgins in a Hufflepuff after-party and you both lost your virginity to each other that night.

It wasn’t awkward. You thought about that night every day since, but after Sebastian flicked it off like nothing, and never spoke about it again, even at graduation, you slipped it off.

You two agreed to a ‘see you later’ farewell.

It got to you, but instead of owling him over the summer, you distracted yourself with horrid side quests. Even if you wondered if he regretted that night or not.

You could barely look at Sebastian in front of you. Or what he wore. You were more intrigued by the thought of why he was there in the first place.

“Sebastian?” You scoffed. You nearly stuttered. “What - what…what the hell are you doing here?”

“I could say the same?” He questioned you.

The audacity he had.

But then you saw his state and your brain just — twisted.

A white, tight regular shirt clung to his upper body. It stretched over his chest and the short sleeves hugged his biceps, enough to reveal a toned muscle that hadn’t been there before.

You had seen him naked in the past, on that night, but it seemed like the past few months changed his appearance a little.

His brown hair tousled down his forehead, and it seemed damp like he had just taken a shower from the Scottish heat too.

But it wasn’t the shirt or the hair that distracted you. No.

He wore a layer of grey sweatpants.

It’d been the new gossip for men. This attire.

The pants sat low on his hips, giving a small inch of separation of the shirt and the waistline. You could see a bit of his hips as he stretched his arm up to run a few fingers through his soft brown hair.

He looks so good. You thought to yourself.

Though you’d cooled enough from the Room of Requirement’s cooling air, another droplet of sweat dripped down the side of your forehead from the view.

“The same?” You were a bit offended by his questioning. “It’s mid-July. I wouldn’t expect anyone in the castle right now.”

He pursed his lips, his brown eyes looking straight down your clothing.

You had certainly forgotten you’d stripped off layers of your outfit minutes prior and his eyes took every misbehaving advantage to stare right at your tank top, the skin plastered on you.

Noticing his loss of focus, he gazed to the side, ashamed of his actions, and sighed. “Me neither. That’s why I was here.”

“Were you taking a shower?” You furrowed at him, noticing the clean scent that drifted through your nostrils as he moved. “In my Room of Requirement?”

“Whoa,” Sebastian scoffed, but it was mixed with his iconic smirk that was hard to ignore. “My? I believe the Room of Requirement belongs to any student in need.”

“We graduated already. We aren’t students.”

“Then it’s not yours either,” Sebastian lashed back at you.

This was one thing you hated about him. Despite the huge crush you hid from him since meeting the fifth year, there were clashes of talks where he would prove you wrong and you’d get mad.

You swallowed, looking to the side. Your eyes were prying enough on the grey sweatpants on him, so you looked down at the carpeted floor.

“I shower here sometimes,” Sebastian admitted to you, answering your thoughts. “Somehow, the way you conjured that shower in the bathroom here the fifth year can’t compare to the one at Feldcroft.” He murmured.

You raised a brow. “So…you’ve been coming here over the summer to just take a shower randomly?”

“Occasionally. Not all the time.” He corrected. “But…with this heat, who would not?”

You wanted to sigh. It was a very Sebastian Sallow thing of him to do.

“It’s not just showers. I could relax here on the sofa, or chill in the Vivarium. I don’t know why any of the other students don't think wisely of being here in the summer. It’s a cooling system too with this weather.”

“I know.” You huffed, wiping your forehead from the sweat.

Sebastian brought his stare back at you. He couldn’t help it. He’d also wonder about you. About that night, but his ego won him over and he never brought it up.

It seemed like a miracle for him to see you show up here. But also an edging feeling to see you wearing just one layer of clothing right in front of his eyes.

“I’d assume from your stance down there,” he pointed at the library, “You came for a book?”

You sighed, crossing your arms and staring at the one shelf you hit your head in.

“Yeah…Madam Stain needed information on this artifact from Manor’s Cape, but I needed more study on it and all.”

Sebastian nodded. “Did you find it?”

“Well, I’m empty-handed, so no.”

He chuckled. God, that attitude of yours.

“Right,” Sebastian nodded. “Did you check the upper shelf?” His eyes lifted above you.

“No. I always placed my books in my height level. I wouldn’t consider it being there—“

“It’s not just your Room of Requirement, you know?” Sebastian blurbed at you, walking past your shoulder and glancing at the place you were in.

Turning, you watched Sebastian.

He had his back on you, yet, it gave the perfect outlook to admire the way his back muscles thrilled over the white fabric.

The shirt barely fit him. Was he insane?

You felt the heat. Not from the weather anymore, but a heated sensation between your legs from watching him. You flushed to yourself, knowing that it was out of your control, especially already being sexually active now.

You knew the feeling.

“History of what exactly?” Sebastian only turned his head to the side, side-eyeing you to give him an answer.

But you forgot. Your plan was to skim through several books until you found the right paragraph, but with him around, you wanted to act tough.

“You don’t know which one, right?” Sebastian teased from your silence.

You sighed. “It’s whatever. You could go. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s fine. I have time to spare.” Sebastian motioned his arm down, placing his hand inside his grey sweatpants.

Again, that same pulsating feeling.

You flushed, not wanting to make eye contact with him, but didn’t say a word.

“We do have a lot to catch up on anyway, don’t we?” He laughed it off.

===================

You couldn’t concentrate, even if you bloody tried. Not when you sat right across Sebastian Sallow in crossed sofas half an hour later, watching him skim through books too.

His legs spread on the seat like he owned the space. One of his arms draped lazily over the backrest of the sofa while the other held another random book in hand.

The manspreading wasn’t new. The Sallow man often did that everywhere in his times with you at Hogwarts, but not with grey sweatpants.

You tended not to stare, but your eyes would often fail to read the historical book at your level and stare directly between his legs. The small bulge of his seemed to be staring directly at you.

You wondered if he had done that on purpose. It was clear you were seeing it on fixation if you lowered your book. And it’d often move as Sebastian would lower a hand to flip a page and set it back on the backrest.

Your breath became a bit premature from the feeling you felt in the course of your core. It never went away, but you often had to crisscross and uncross your legs to take it away, but it kept pulsating more and more.

“Found anything, yet?”

His voice call made the book in your hand slip out of you, onto the floor from the cut-out and a laugh escaped him from across.

“Did I scare you?”

“You made me lose my page, Sallow,” You murmured, bending down to grab the book, but you were trying to hide the flush that came up from his talk.

You were never nervous to talk to Sebastian. Hell, you spoke to him every day since transferring to Hogwarts, but since that intimate night, you felt nervous.

How ironic since you let him see all parts of you with trust.

“I found something,”

As you picked up the book from the floor and attempted to lean back onto the sofa, you heard the sofa across make a weird noise and as you stared up, you watched Sebastian come to you.

The sofa you sat in dipped slightly from his weight and he sat close enough that the edge of his knee brushed yours.

“Look at this,” He said.

You felt Sebastian lean back beside you, one arm coming back behind both of you, hanging it lazily so that you could see the other end from the corner of your eyes. And he sat there, holding the book up, enough for both perspectives to read.

It was not normal.

You didn’t feel normal just sitting here alone with him in the Room of Requirement and attempting to read a paragraph you no longer cared about.

The fresh clean breeze of his post-shower lingered on you. If he dipped his head more down, you would have been able to feel his brown baby hairs tickle your nose, and feel the warmth of his body — the same warmth that made you a disaster that same night—

Sebastian Sallow was the same.

Dare, he gave no shits about a bloody excerpt of a stupid artifact. Since seeing you observe the library while coming out of the bathroom, he held all his will to not pin you in every corner of the Room of Requirement and make up for the lack of sex he hadn’t given you.

Seeing you wear the tank top didn’t do it justice. With each call out on him, your breasts would often make a bouncy movement, making him turn his gaze to the side not to goggle more before his cock strained over the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

And now as he attempted to show you a paragraph on an artifact, he was no longer reading the words — his eyes were directly down your breasts, and so close.

“Hey,” He whispered.

You hadn’t noticed how the patterns of your breaths began to increase with every diabolical thought that fumed inside your head. Inside your body now. Your lips parted every second as you heard Sebastian’s voice.

“Hm?” You didn’t stare at him.

Instead, your eyes were gawking on the grey sweatpants, but now, you’ll see how the once soft bulge that rested nicely in between his legs hardened. The outline of his cock sat nicely on the material, it was bizarre they were even selling these.

He was hard.

Sebastian Sallow was hard.

He felt the same way.

Sebastian gathered your view, looking down at himself. His face flushed from embarrassment, the freckles illuminating him as he cleared his throat and smirked.

“Pardon,” His hands palmed his boner, hiding it away and laughing it off. “It’s just—“

The intrusive thoughts inside your head won now. You hadn’t known how you found yourself taking that book out of Sebastian’s hands and throwing it across the room, but you did it and then latched your lips onto his.

The kiss had been sloppy.

Sebastian didn’t make a stop to it. At first, he’d been shocked by your actions, but when he felt your lips, the same lips he yearned and masturbated to, he didn’t hold back either.

His hands caged over the sides of your face before lowering down your waist, feeling the perfect inch of your skin from scrunching the tank top that distracted him. He used your hips as a lever to shift your positions on the sofa and make you get on top of him.

As both of your legs draped on his sides, Sebastian’s tongue dug into your mouth, fighting its way to find yours as his large hands traced your lower waist and rubbed circles.

“Hm,” You hummed, feeling the rising erecting outline under your pants from the position.

You noticed as you rolled your hips on top of Sebastian, you’d often feel his cock twitch below you, giving you an easy ride to shift back and forth and cure your pulsating core.

“I,” Sebastian removed his tongue from your mouth, and stared at you brown-eyed and breathless. “-missed you.” Then he dipped his mouth into your neck, licking and sucking it not giving you time to respond fairly.

“Oh,” Your head tilted back, letting the heat of his mouth suck hungrily into your neck as you kept rubbing yourself on him and using your hands over his shoulders as a control. “I missed - oh - missed you, too.”

While your hips rolled like no tomorrow, Sebastian became hard as a rock beneath you. What was once a satisfying feeling now became an edging feeling from the layers of clothing.

You were dry-humping each other.

Both of you didn’t even do this before. The first time was nerve-wracking and you two got completely naked ahead, but right now, you rubbed against each other like two teenagers.

You felt the straps of your tank top begin to fall off from your shoulder and Sebastian’s fingers yanked them off, making your breast air out in the cool setting.

“Fuck,” Sebastian’s mouth fed into your left breast, making you curse and accumulate the speed of rubbing yourself on top of his sweatpants.

Sebastian noticed the cues of your movements. He’ll be happy to lose himself inside of you, but watching you roll your hips above him and making the foreskin of his cock slide in and out without even taking off his pants turned him on.

It edged him badly.

“Does it feel good?” Sebastian asked, removing his mouth from your breasts.

You nodded, not wanting to say a word.

Sebastian’s hands placed on your back again and pushed your lower body much forward, helping you rub yourself on top of him.

“Take off your pants, darling,” He ordered huskily over your earlobe.

But you’d been enjoying yourself over his pants.

“Don’t worry, I won’t move,” Sebastian said cockily, as he read your worry of thoughts.

Your pants and underwear hung on the armrest of the sofa and soon enough, you’d found yourself on top of Sebastian again, right above the thick layer of his grey sweatpants naked.

They shouldn’t have been considered pants. The way his cock felt clear enough rubbing down your core. The way you’d been soaking wet from the arousal your dampness began to bleed through his pants easily.

Sebastian stopped kissing you for a moment of speed, resting his head on the backrest of the sofa behind him and intensely watching you massage over him. From sweats and flushes, a small smile formed on his face watching you enjoy yourself.

Then he began to feel wet over his pants. Your arousal had transferred enough to reach his skin and make him twitch with every second.

“You’re - so - harddd,” You whimpered.

“Y-Yes, I am.” Sebastian cooed, raising a hand to caress the side of your face. “I haven’t stopped thinking about that night or you.”

Your eyes closed from his honesty.

“It’s been killing me,”

“Well,” You had a gut feeling to throw in a challenge. “What are you waiting for? I’m right—“

He didn’t let you finish. You watched as Sebastian wrapped his strong arm around your lower body, lifting you for a second before using his free hand to lower his grey sweatpants a little and spring out his lubricated cock under you.

“Yeah?” He asked with consent.

You didn’t answer, instead, you lowered your own hand, positioning his cock over your entrance and sinking down on him.

It was better than the first time. From how heated and wet you’d both been, you dipped in every single inch of Sebastian Sallow proudly. It was warm and hot, and satisfying to hear the once-rubbing noise turn into a sloppy, wet noise in minutes.

Sebastian groaned with the feeling again, and you felt his hand grasp your thigh, restraining himself from going all in and taking advantage.

“Fuck,” He said beneath his breath.

Your hips rolled in sync, the same way you were dry-humping him, but this time, you felt him all. You felt how the tip of his cock would tickle down your cervix from every hop and how you’d moan in pleasurable pain on every sweat.

You’d often look back behind your shoulder, eyeing the grey sweatpants that hadn’t even been slid off correctly on Sebastian. He’d only made space for you to use him for pleasure, but the pants were still over his knees.

The forbidden grey sweatpants that led to it all.

“Oh,” You moaned.

“Sweetheart,” The pet names drove you insane. He’d often say them as a joke, but with each call, you’ll clench beneath him. “Shit — let’s conjure a bed…y-yeah? Let me feel myself inside you properly?” He begged.

You were muted. Too numb from the pleasure.

“We don’t have to—“

With the use of your Ancient Magic, you sprawled a conjured bed in the middle of the Room of Requirement and nodded.

Sebastian found it attractive to see you use your magic for things like this. It was like free will on your end and he couldn’t wait how far desperation could get you.

You gasped, feeling your head hit the pillows from Sebastian throwing you, but without a thought in your erotic little head of yours, Sebastian plunged inside of you again, pleasuring you endlessly.

“Oh, Sebastian!”

You could smell his clean aroma on your nose as you dreamt of it, and your fingers reached his dampened hair, digging through it with every thrust of his. The desperation had been tough, you used your magic again to make his white shirt disappear and get the man naked above you.

“…needy,” Sebastian whispered within his hips.

But he loved it.

Sebastian’s lips brushed against yours over the sex. His beady eyes would often shut close, squeezing them to hold back a finish, but it became difficult when it had been months without you, Without being inside of you.

“You feel - so - good,”

“Finish,” You begged. “…do it.”

“I’m gonna have - to pull out -“ Sebastian said in guilt.

“It’s alright,” You sweated over the whispers. “I’m taking the prevention pill.”

Sebastian breathed heavily from the news, but he was too distracted by a finish. But the idea of you being on a pill to not get pregnant terrified him that you must’ve been active over the months with other people —

“I got on it after that night,” You whispered. “I have been waiting for you to make use of it, Sallow.”

That was it. That’s all it took for Sebastian to groan out the most disastrous, impossible moans of mankind as he slammed into you one last time and clashed his chest over yours.

==================

“Please, don’t wear those pants around me.” You murmured within the halls of the castle.

Sebastian walked beside you. Both of you were sweaty and messy, but after your session, Sebastian offered to accompany you to return the artifact with the book in Manor’s Cape.

“Hm,” Sebastian gave a tired laugh, his hands tugged into his sweatpants. He had to use a cleaning charm to remove all the mess you previously made. He didn’t want to do it, but you demanded. “I’ll try.”

You rolled your eyes, but you felt an arm hang around your shoulder and you smiled.

“Now, to make up for these months you didn’t owl me.” He joked but planted a kiss on your forehead. 

[lovesicklovermia]

normalise making a list of character x readers u like to read so you can spin a wheel every night before bed to decide ur bedtime story xx

[actually-mentally-ill]

me after saying i’d get tasks done but i’ve just been reading fanfiction for the past 3 hours:

[jackalope-patronus]

summary :: very very soft smut of virgin Sebastian and MC reader. With plot! With feelings!

warning :: seventh year. Very soft, virgin Sebastian and reader, touching over clothes, dry humping, oral f receiving, raw, references to the angst that happened in the game, purity culture (yes, it's the 1890s), lots of love and fluffy stuff. Also there's a spider bite. Possible mistakes, I wasn’t able to check over the entire thing.

note :: I’m forever a hater of rough smut, ‘you like that, you dirty slut?’ uhm no, why are you calling me names!!

“Sebastian, down here.”

“Found something?”

“There’s a cave connected to her home.”

Isidora Morganach's home, or at least one of her homes. You weren't quite sure. It had plenty of notes and discoveries on her adventures travelling after graduating from Hogwarts, some keepsakes from other countries, and plenty of chests already emptied out. The home was ancient and very worse for wear, the roof had long since cave in, allowing the rain from above to patter against both you and Sebastian. You had spotted a deep cavern within the corner of her living-room. Big enough to fit the both of you.

"After you," said Sebastian, gesturing to the dark, black entrance.

You would've retorted, if you hadn't felt so seriously. It had been two years since you'd dealt with anything related to Isadora and the sudden discovery that one of her homes was merely a broomstick flight away from Hogwarts felt troubling to your intuition.

Sebastian could practically see the tension in your body when you first told him.

"I heard rumours of a home that could've belonged to Isadora nearby the castle."

“Isadora?” He choked on the food he’d served himself.

"Yes. I'm going to go and search it after dinner." Something troubling swirled in your eyes and Sebastian jumped to distract you from it.

"I'll come with you." He said.

"This might be something I'll have to do on my own, Sebastian." You stated. If there was a trial or something related to ancient magic, he wouldn't be able to do anything. Professor Fig never could. You'd be better off alone. 

"You won't even take me as a chaperone?" Sebastian asked, grinning at you. 

It was that grin that had him coming with you to the half rubble household, in the pouring rain, at the dead of night.

Your search was cut short when the moment you reached the end of the slope into the cave, a six legged beast jumped you. You recognised it as a hatchling, small for its kind but big enough to knock you off your feet. You attempted to reach for your wand but the large pincers found your arm, the hollow fangs sinking into your tissue. A sharp wail escaped you as the venom soaked into your muscle.

"Incendio!" The spider was thrown off of you with a quick ball of flame and Sebastian replaced it, kneeling at your side and pulling you up.

"It got me." You hissed, revealing your torn up sleeve. 

He cursed, then took your wrist in his large hand and pushed back the fabric of your sleeve, bringing your numbing arm to his mouth. He latched on before you could quite make sense of his actions, he sucked twice against your raw skin and then spat to the floor next to him. Again, he sucked on the bite then spat out what you hoped was most of the venom, and what looked to be some of your blood, and perhaps some rainwater.

You couldn’t be sure the flush falling over your face was from the venom or not, but the dizziness that followed suggested the first.

Through the haze of the sickening poison flooding your system and the feverish puffs of air you let out, you could hone in on Sebastian’s final part from your irritated skin. A thin, watery string of spit connected him to your arm before it broke and he turned to gauge the effects of the venom on your face.

��Wiggenweld?” You had some faint idea he had said something else, but you weren’t sure.

“My pocket.” You huffed, eye-line peering up at the dark, rocky ceiling dripping rain.

You recalled another flush passing over you, whilst desperate hands pat over your sides, legs and chest. Soon enough, the hands found what they were looking for. After that, a vile pressed to your lips and you felt yourself return to your pained body. Your legs must’ve given out, because Sebastian held you against himself, one hand cupped around your jaw.

“I’m alright.” You croaked, his hold loosening and giving you space. Your stiff legs ached at your weight and you patted your pockets for another wiggenweld potion, but came up empty. You let out a tired groan.

“Let’s head back.” He said. 

"But we've yet to look everywhere." You gazed around the dark and rocky cave, slithers of other spiders echoing through the darkness.

"The house won't be going anywhere, we can come back when you're well again."

Still, you shook your head. “It’s the middle of the night, we’ll surely be caught by some prefect if I’m in this state.”

“It’s worth it, we’ve got to get you another potion and get you right.”

So reluctantly, you let Sebastian help you out of the cave and onto your broom, keeping a weary eye on you until you snuck back into the castle.

Sebastian muttered something about peeves when you entered, your arm around his shoulder and a light hand on your side, keeping you steady as though he was a friend helping you home after a night of drinking. You needed a brewing stand to rid you of this horrid, sickening ache and the fuzziness behind your eyes.

"What in merlin's name..." A nearby wall began to shift, swirls of a door began to form and you had never been so relieved to see the entrance to the room of requirement form for you. It felt like a dear friend coming to your aid. 

"Inside, come on." You ushered, pulling Sebastian along. He held you closer, mumbling 'careful.' at your quickness.

Sebastian sat you down carefully on the closest thing he could, which happened to be a plush settee that you couldn't remember placing when you were last here. Perhaps the room had conjured it up just for you.

"My brewing stand, it should be over there." You blurted.

"You've really decked this place out." He muttered and behind you, you could hear the sizzling of a potion brewing. Sebastian had followed you into the room once or twice before, but not enough to be acquainted to it like you were. An uncomfortable minute passed before Sebastian handed you the potion which spread relief through your body once you drunk it.

He watched your eyes keenly for any haze or sickly glossiness. "Another?" He asked. 

"No I'm alright." You nodded. He sighed thankfully and you smiled at his relief. “I’ve never known you to be the doting type, Sebastian.” You uttered contently, placing down the empty vile.

“Well, you’ve never needed doting.” He rounded the large settee and sat beside you. 

"I never thought you had it in you to be so… gentle."

The word stunned Sebastian, but only for a moment. "Me? Not gentle? How could you ever come to think so low of me?" He jested, an eyebrow raised your way.

"Apologies, I don't know what could've convinced me otherwise." A lot lurked behind your retort, and although you could still see a grin on his face, Sebastian's shoulders deflated. "I'm only joking." You quickly added. "You've always had a soft side, I've been especially reaping the benefits of it in our recent time spent together."

"Well, I'd ought to start treating you well some time in our friendship." He continued, a playfulness added to his somewhat serious statement.

You hummed, although awkwardly. After fifth year, Sebastian had somewhat clung to you. Soloman was dead, Anne had left and his relationship with Ominis had never been so broken. All his time, his loyalty, his effort and his love was directed to you because, plainly, you were the only one who stuck around. You were the only one he'd give it all to, whether you were completely aware of it or not.

So when the two of you tipped around his less than stellar actions towards you, you could see the guilt wrack him. See his regret. Inwardly, Sebastian wished to scrub the memories of his slights against you from your brain. He wasn't that boy anymore. He wasn't so obsessed with finding a cure for Anne, driven by his one-track mind. No, now you had become his obsession. His motivations now revolved around you and he pursued you just as relentlessly as he pursued that cure for Anne, maybe even more so. Perhaps he is the same boy from two years ago.

You glanced at him, his eyes downcast to the marble floor. "I know you always cared for me. Just... Sometimes you had a funny way of showing it." You played with the hem of your skirt, rubbing the fabric between your index and forefinger. "You're a true friend Sebastian, don't doubt that."

"You're one to talk." He suddenly grinned, arm stretching out on the camel back of the sofa, close enough anyone else would consider Sebastian had his arm around you.

"Am I?" You smiled, less wary.

"The entire cohort is deeply in love with you. Perhaps some of the teachers too. I'm sure Professor Wesley would give just about anything to adopt you, and I've never seen Sharp so kind to someone. Truely, it's terrifying."

You shook your head, laughing. "Oh stop, there are plenty who don't like me. What about Imelda?"

"Don't be daft, she'd drop just about anything for you I'm sure." He hummed, smiling at the idea (although it made his affection towards you feel slightly less significant. Still, you were here with him, not Imelda or any other adoring fan you had. That must've counted for something). "You might consider me a charmer, but you're like an Amortentia potion given life."

"Compliments like these are precisely why I enjoy spending time with you Sebastian." You said. Sebastian chuckled lowly.

"Cheeky." He commented.

"So then, can I consider you deeply in love with me too? You did say everyone in our cohort." Daring, but you enjoyed the rush of flirting with Sebastian whenever the opportunity arose.

"Imelda, the teachers, even Ominis and yes, me."

The space between you somehow lessened, the teasing drawing your faces together. In a moment of weakness, yours eyes darted to his smiling lips. He’d caught the glance, igniting a wild tinkle in his eyes. He knew where your thoughts lie and you could see it in the way he looked at you. He took your cheek in his hand and you retracted into nervousness, opening your mouth to say something before Sebastian leaned in to pressed a kiss to your lips.

It felt curt at first, because Sebastian broke away too soon, perhaps because he realised to gravity of his action. But you trailed after him, following his lips and giving him the desire to kiss you again. So he did.

This time, with the assurance of you kissing him back, passion bloomed.

He rested an eager hand on your side, his other still holding your face. His fingers threaded through your hair as his lips pushed into you, with longing and need. It wasn’t messy, nor sloppy, just long moments of intimacy between quick breaths.

After a quick separation, Sebastian dove into you again, furthering his weight into you until you relented and laid back against the sofa, pulling him down with you whilst you kissed.

You utterly lost yourself in the swirls of emotions, drowning in the desire to just be with him, and feel him. It felt hot, light, but above all it felt natural.

Both hands now cupped your sides, pressing you into the pillows. His mouth moved to your cheek, then jaw and you attempted to breath out and slow your racing pulse but the sound that left you was much more vocal than you wanted it to be.

Sebastian stopped and you quickly sobered from the passion. He raised himself off of you, and you jolted up.

He wiped a hand over his mouth. “This is… compromising.” He muttered whilst you were being brought back to the reality of what you were doing.

Kissing Sebastian— kissing anyone!—Alone in a room together, with wandering hands and hot bodies. It was completely and utterly shameful. It wasn’t as though you were innocent children who could get away with linking arms or coupled rendezvous, the two of you were about to graduate and enter ‘proper society’ and however forward thinking the magical word was compared to the muggle word, hooking up with your dearest friend with no ring was still considered dishonourable.

“It is.” You nodded, wide eyed. Would you still be able to wear a white wedding dress after this? Was it allowed? What even was ‘being unclean’? Did making out count? The dizzying feeling returned. All you wanted to do was rewind time and stop yourself from ever making a peep so that Sebastian would’ve continued his journey down your body.

And clearly, Sebastian didn’t want his exploration to end either because his hands lingered around your uniform vest.

“Are you hot?” He asked, eyes dark and utterly taken by you.

“A little, yes.” You nodded, keenly watching his hands encompass the first button.

"May I?"

"Yes." You sighed shakily.

He was slow to thread the black buttons through their slits, opening your chest up to the cool air inside the room of requirement. It seemed the rain had also dampened the fabric underneath the vest, clinging it to your skin. The sight elicited a rough exhale from Sebastian whose reflex was to avert his gaze. He slid the vest off of you and rested his hands at your torso.

"Are you alright?" You asked in hopes to catch his eyes.

"Yes. I'm more than alright, actually." You would laugh if the comment hadn't made goosebumps rise on your skin. He finally returned to face you. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes.” You replied, with an embarrassing eagerness.

He returned from where he left you, kissing your jaw and then ear with such lightness it could’ve been a peck from a pixie. You weren’t sure what you expected, but the way he held you cried love and devotion. Treating your skin like porcelain, and your lips like a favourite dessert he needed to savour (lest he never eat it again). You supposed Sebastian would be a fast lover, a man who would take as he desired and give his all.

This was slow, relaxing, gentle and kind. Almost melancholy. As though with every simple kiss he pressed to your lips, he was apologising.

However you were done with apologies from Sebastian. You wanted his love without guilt.

So you took his face in your hands and kept him locked to your lips for a rhythmic kiss which had his hands clenching and his head feeling light from the rush of blood south. Now you could feel him adjusted to you, taking your lead.

Sebastian decided, when you whimpered at the sensation of his tongue sliding across your lip, that this moment would forever vex him during nights of loneliness.

You weren’t sure when, but his hand had found itself on your inner thigh, below the safeguard of your skirt and squeezing your leg in assurance. His thumb dragged over the dip on your stocking, so close to where you longed most.

As your tongue met his in a long swipe, he squeezed you again but this time the squeeze portrayed a promise, that he was going to touch you and draw pleasure from you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and the butterflies became too much to bear.

“Sebastian— I’m, I’m worried.” You gasped, breathing out a shaken breath.

His hands were away from you, almost in an instant and most unfortunately so was his mouth. “Then we should stop.”

“But I—” You couldn’t allow yourself to truely express you wanted more, wanted to continue and be enveloped by him. But he knew, like he always did, what you wanted.

So against his better judgment, Sebastian mumbled a quiet “Sorry.” To your previously untouched maidenhood, then found your body with his lips again.

He needed this. He loved you too much to stop.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” You asked meekly, as he kissed and sucked at the skin that peaked from your collar.

“I can’t say I’m experienced, but I know what I want to do.”

“What’s that?” You dared to inquire.

“Show you how dear you are to me.”

You whispered a too-soft 'okay' before laying down on your back, like a cat showing its belly to signify its trust. The gesture and the sight of you sprawled out for him, made Sebastian grab his clenched jaw and hide the red settling under his freckles.

You could see a reservation form— or perhaps it was an anxiousness to please swirling in his eyes. You couldn’t tell, but he watched you intensely as his hand traveled down, past your beating chest, over the knobs of your ribs until he dived under your skirt and made his stop at where you burned for him.

His thumb glided over your core and the space between you two felt as though you were on a stage and Sebastian was the only audience member. You had gasped and excitement flickered in his dark eyes. Again, he dragged his thumb over you but with more weight and your previous gasp turned into a whimper. You held onto him, pulling him down into you to avoid his excited stare. His body blanketed you, his scent enveloping you along with the masculine weight of him.

You could feel his hand shift, dulled by the fabric of your stockings then the force of his palm rub against your clothed bundle of nerves. Your legs attempted to close at the sensation, but Sebastian's body kept them open to him. Your chest pounded uncomfortably, so fast and so heavy with the weight of your first-time arousal.

His lips locked to your neck again, his free hand pulling at your tie and unbuttoning the first button on your blouse. Now he kissed a lower, new, more sensitive territory. He moved to the second button and you thought it was impossible for your chest to thud any faster until his wet lips reached a particular sweet spot between your shoulder and neck whilst his other hand worked your sex.

“My heart.” You whimpered, tugging at his robe. His hand halted, resting around your thigh. The sigh he exhaled lingered on the skin of your neck before he leaned to press his ear against your chest.

He listened for seconds, long enough for your fingers to find their way to his hair. You hadn’t realised he held stiffness until his body relaxed into you at the tender rake of your nails through his soft brown locks.

“I’m sorry, I can’t control my nerves.” You said, catching your breath and willing your anxious heart to slow.

“Don’t be.” He countered, lifting his head from your thudding chest. “I’m affected by all this, too.” He took your hand and pressed it into his chest. You quickly felt the thick beats of his pulse, in a rhythm that easily matched your own.

He returned to lay over you, between your legs, with his head beside your own. You clung to his body that draped over you like a blanket along with his wet, wood smell that you'd only ever caught brief whiffs of before this. You felt guilty, leaving all the pleasing to him, especially since he'd been so kind to your hesitations. "I'm sorry. I'm not doing much, am I?"

"Is sorry your favourite word, love?" He asked, his warm hand caressing your cheek. "You deserve someone doing something to please you for once. Besides, your little sounds are doing enough for me as it is."

You pushed a hand to his face, covering the grin that turned you a deep plum shade. He chuckled and kissed your palm. "And what of you, Sebastian?" The kisses began to lead up your arm but you stopped him. "Sebastian."

"Your selflessness never retires, does it?"

You ignored him, propping yourself up to loosen his tie in a simple show that now, it was his turn. You did so smoothly and so gently that it made Sebastian's jaw tighten. You tossed it to the pile where your vest lay, then moved to his robes, sliding them off him. His expression seemed hard, annoyed almost but you continued. He took your wrist only when your fingers edged to undo his third button.

"Don't do this for me." He muttered, clearly thousands of thoughts buffering his mind, but that horrid guilt resurfaced on his face.

"For you?" You somewhat gaped. He must truly think of you as a saint (a push-over, but a saint) to believe you so innocent in your motives. "Not for you. With you, Sebastian." The words were enough to ease his hold on your wrist, so you continued.

Just as Sebastian, you had little to no experience on any sexual matters. You were hardly familiar with your own body, let alone a male's. So ever the improviser, you lifted yourself over him and sat gently, feeling the poke of his arousal against you. You shivered, and had to look away from him for a brief moment.

His hands snapped to your hips, and he looked at you with some kind of warning in his eyes. Tread carefully. The look said.

With Sebastian below you, you finally got a clean look at him; red lips, flushed face, rustled hair. You'd never seen him in such a state. It allowed you to understand why he enjoyed watching you whilst touching your most sensitive area.

With your hands on his chest for balance, you gently swayed your hips against him. His fingers curled around you, his knuckles blanching, and he let out a grunted curse that melted your insides to molten.

Again you moved against him, finding your own pleasure in the movement, prompting you to do it again. Sebastian was unravelling beneath you, eyes creased shut with his head thrown back and mouth letting out choked moans.

You began to notice Sebastian's hips joining you, rolling up with a feverish need. You dipped down to him, deciding the space was too much. His arms envelop you in a strong hug, tightening when you began to leave kisses across his skin.

“Does it feel good?” You asked insecurely whilst already knowing the answer.

“Hng— yes.” He nodded desperately.

The following exchange between you two was nothing more than writhing bodies, quiet moans and shallow breaths.

At some point, appearing fed up with your pace and control, Sebastian had shifted you off him and to his side, where he then mounted you. Finding his rightful place between your legs and returning his core to yours, grinding against you in a manor that reminded you what was to come once the layers between you were gone.

It made your insides plea for him, his hand. Anything.

So you took his face, and guided it back to your lips. It was messier now, not fast or rough, just messy as his mind strayed between his deep rolls against you and the way your tongue met his bottom lip.

But he stoped, retracting his hips but not yet his mouth. You broke from him first.

"Sebastian." His name was a plea, a whine against loosing the sensation of him finding friction against you.

"If we continue like this, I... I won't last. You should find your release before it's over."

You wondered how Sebastian might've known you were even capable of climax, then consider what other kinds of books were available in the restricted section of the library he might've come across. The thought didn't linger in your mind for too long, because he had sat up and had begun removing your stockings.

"Sebastian..."

The familiar sound of your nervous unease halted him.

"Just don't stare." You asked, looking away from the sight of him undressing you.

"Of course." It was a shotty promise, but you allowed him to take off your puffy drawers and settle over you again. He kissed your lips briefly, then your cheek, jaw, neck, collarbone and the plush of your breast that peaked from your halfway unbuttoned blouse.

You gazed up at the ceiling you'd designed two years ago, finding comfort in its familiarity. You wondered briefly that if you had told your younger self that Sebastian Sallow would one day see you half undressed, flushed with lust and be kissing his way down your ribs, abdomen and stomach until he reached your sex, what she might say. You had some faint idea, younger you would've responded with "Sounds about right."

The kiss he pressed against your knee was unhurried and deliberate, even more-so was the one he pressed to your inner thigh. When his mouth finally found you it drew a sharp intake of breath from your chest, suspended in the heavy quiet of the room.

Your hands, awkward and alone, grabbed at your skirt and shirt, clenching the fabric until your knuckles went white. One of them instinctually reached for his hair when his hot, wet tongue slowly swiped you for the first time. Another gasp joined the symphony of echoed silence, aside for the occasional rustle of clothes.

His tongue explored you carefully and too light but with each vocal exhale or quick tug at his hair the experimental licks became sure as he uncovered what made you react the most.

You could feel a simple quake in his hands as they held your thighs open and your trembling body steady. You reached to the fingers that created craters in your flesh, brushing across them in a plea for him to hold your hand. And he did.

You had never imaged it could feel like it did, so warm, so encompassing, so vulnerable yet so rewarding. It was all utterly overwhelming. You couldn't think of anything else other than the sensations. His wet tongue sliding across your nerves, the softness of his chestnut brown hair, the puffs of his hot exhales against your skin and the loving hold of his hand.

The builds of pleasure had begun to undeniably form, and the incoming reality that Sebastian would made you climax quickly sent a storm of butterflies within your stomach.

"I think I'm close." You uttered.

Sebastian's eyes fluttered at your heavenly admission, but he didn't allow the swirling of pride in his chest to sway him from your pleasure. His tongue and mouth moved with such deliberate care, that you whimpered to consider how much he must've loved you, to want care for you this way. No, Sebastian was not a fast lover by any means.

The building peaked, until it snapped and you unravelled. Sebastian had known it by the shiver that ripped through your body and the way your fingers tightened almost painfully around his hair. All that, and the moan you let out was the loudest you'd made yet.

You felt the warm cavern of his mouth seperate from you however you were well past the point of reaction as you sobbed and gasped for oxygen to feed your rapturing heart.

Sebastian's eye's glazed over your now glistening skin "You finished." He stated, almost asking in such bewilderment. You didn't reply, still catching your breath. He picked you up from your weak lay on the sofa and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly.

You wondered when he kissed you, if that sweet tang on his tongue was the taste of you.

The intimacy lingered, guiding you into a heat you didn't expect so soon after your peak. Your hand reached the rim of his trousers, index finger curling around his belt and ever so lightly tugging at it.

Sebastian seemed to hesitate, separating from your lips and gazing at you. “We can stop here. There's no rush—” he began, his voice low and warning, but you silenced him with a soft shake of your head.

“I don't want to stop,” you whispered, the words shaky but certain. The way his breath caught at your words sent warmth bloating your chest.

His hug around you faded as he fumbled with the button of his trousers, his hands trembling slightly as his usual confidence slipped for a vulnerable kind of focus.

Your gaze rose at the ceiling instinctively, to avoid an image so lewd your heart might explode.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours again. The kiss was softer now, as if trying to calm both of your nerves. “It’s just me. You don’t have to be nervous.”

“I’m not,” you lied, the tight weakness in your throat betraying you.

Sebastian smiled, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “I think you are,” he countered, “but that’s alright. This is... I’m nervous too.”

“You don’t seem it,” you admitted, and he let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m good at pretending,” he confessed, his tone light but honest. He kissed you again, slower this time, and the warmth of his lips helped steady you.

As he positioned himself, his movements slowed, almost hesitant. His brow furrowed slightly as though searching for the right way to proceed. “If it hurts, or if you want me to stop, you’ll tell me?”

You nodded.

When he began to push forward, he braced himself with a groan you only recognised Sebastian let out when he'd been in pain, though this was something else entirely. The exhale that followed seemed to have winded him. It was as though sliding into you was like sliding into some exquisite oil.

Despite what you might've expected, no pain flooded your body. There was an uneasy pressure, but no incredible discomfort. As his size slid across your nerves you couldn't help the sharp intake of air through your teeth

Sebastian froze immediately. "Too much?" He asked.

"No," you managed, although sounding as if you were holding back a sob, "It's just.. new." His shoulders sagged with relief.

You shifted beneath him, angling your hips instinctively, and the change made him groan, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Gods, you feel… perfect,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.

He halted a slow jut into you, experimenting with each gentle motion, balancing his desire with your comfortability. That uneasy tightness had lifted almost completely as he massaged your insides, spreading a melting warmth that eased any tension in your mind.

His name fell from your lips and it shattered what composure he had left. "Does it feel better now?" Although the question sounded worried for you, Sebastian wanted more, to go further and harder and needed the permission from your pleasure.

"Yes," you gasp, "Its— ah— Sebastian it's so much better."

Now he had a newfound confidence and his movements grew surer but still achingly gentle.

It was all becoming smoother, more instinctive, and you found yourself matching him, your hips rising to meet his. He groaned at this. The sensation of him filling you, of your bodies moving in perfect sync, was intoxicating. You could feel his hands sliding up your sides, his touch gentle yet tight as he held you close.

The feel of him gliding inside you, slowly and shallowly pleasing you send spark dancing underneath your skin and another tension, similar to the one you felt with Sebastian's mouth around your sex, although not the same, began to build. “Sebastian,” you gasped, your voice laced with urgency. “I—”

“Just a little more,” he coaxed, remaining loyal to the kind rhythm of his thrusts. “I can feel it, too.”

You held yourself together for only a moment longer, unravelling too soon and too fast. This one was intense, flooding your body and contracting your muscles, even the ones that surrounded Sebastian. It had pushed him over the edge, too.

A warmth flooded you and the hands clutching his back became sharp nails digging into his shirt and skin. You didn't forget the way he moaned at the rake. Both of you shuddered, Sebastian at finding his release inside you and you feeling it merge with the aftershock of your own climax.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your breaths mingling in the stillness, the world outside forgotten. Sebastian lowered his forehead to yours and collapsed breathless at your side.

You could've drifted off into a deep slumber, you might've for a single moment, if Sebastian hadn't removed his blanket of warmth by lifting himself from the sofa. He took his robe off the pile of strewn bits of clothing, and draped it over you.

Through tiredly lidded eyes, you heard the rustle of clothing as he buttoned up the loose pieces hanging off him.

"Sebastian?" You weren't done basking in the aftercare yet.

"I'm going to brew the potion."

"Potion?"

"A... preventative."

You sat up. "Preventative?"

Although he'd been deep inside you just a moment ago, he attempted to avoid crudeness. "To, you know, stop you from being.. with child."

You weren't sure if you should laugh, or freak out, so an odd mix between the two emotions emitted from you. "Sebastian how do you know so much about all this?"

"Why? Did my skills exceeded your expectations that much?"

"Please, be serious," you begged.

"Well, you know how much I like to read." He seemed to shy from the confession. "After a while, one gets curious about certain things and... as for the potion, I found it in a book about married couples. Said it was 'to only be used to prevent further conception after having too many children' although I think we can bend the rules for this occasion."

"Children? Oh merlin, what have we done." The afterglow had faded too soon and you were left with the cries of a culture that told you sex before marriage was unacceptable. "I'm going to have to wear a black wedding dress..." You despaired.

Sebastian only laughed.

"Don't laugh! I'll have to lie to my future husband, and—"

"I'll be marrying you," he stated, as though you were slow for not already knowing this.

"What?"

"Love, don't think for a moment I'd let you share yourself with me like this and not marry you," any words you could've hoped to say were buried deep in your pit of a gut, "besides, I've always thought you looked quite pretty in black."

You weakly laughed, the other option being to cry from overwhelm of it all.

"I'll tell you a secret though—we're quite late to the party."

"What do you mean?"

"Weasley, Prewett and Plummly."

"You're joking." You gaped, "with who?"

"None of them will tell. Suppose they might be lying, though I'm sure I did spot Weasley snogging a Hufflepuff once. Might've been her."

"Huh." You supposed that if you had to have guessed, Garreth Weasley would've been the first name you called.

"Pretty sure word got out about it too, that's why he's been in detention for so long. The teachers can't prove it happened, but they can still punish him for it."

So that's why you hadn't seen Garreth as often anymore. With his aunt as a teacher, she'd surely be on his tail about anything scandalous. Then stress twanged your heart.

"What if someone finds out about us, about tonight?"

"They won't."

"What if they do?"

His mouth quirked into a half-smile, equal parts reassuring and mischievous. “We’d get scolded, thrown in detention, and likely forced to marry sooner than we’d like. Expulsion would be threatened, but I reckon most of the professors have enjoyed watching our so-called ‘budding romance.’ I’d wager they’d let it slide.”

"Professor Wesley would have you strung up by your ears for taking me to bed," you muttered, finding humour in the image, but also horror in the truth of it. "Oh Merlin she'd be so disappointed in me..."

"You're right," he muttered with an exaggerated sigh, "if it was Ominis who'd taken you, she'd be so much happier."

You couldn't help the laugh that left you, or how it quickly dissolved into a groan. "Sebastian please, I— what if this was a mistake?"

His amusement faded and he softened. "Think for one moment, with no one else's judgement, did it feel like a mistake?"

"No..."

“You think I’d do this with anyone else?” he continued, his voice softer now. “That I’d risk everything—us—for something fleeting?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Merlin, you really don’t give me enough credit, do you?”

“It’s not that,” you protested weakly.

“Then what is it?” he pressed, his gaze intent but not unkind.

"You're not just saying all this to make me feel better, are you? To make me think you want me?" The words felt stupid the moment they left your mouth.

Sebastian blinked, stunned into silence for a moment before a laugh—warm and disbelieving—escaped him. “You’re daft if you think I’d ever not want you. Have you met me?”

You swatted at his arm halfheartedly, your cheeks burning. “This is mortifying.”

“Mortifying?” He scoffed, pulling you closer. “The only thing mortifying about this is how much I love kissing you, everywhere. Truely, I won't be able to think about another thing."

"If we get married, I think I'll die of a heart attack."

"Not if, love, when."

[5sospenguinqueen]

Ominis: MC kissed you?

(Sebastian stares woefully out his window)

Ominis: And, you said thank you..?

Sebastian: Yes.

Ominis: Well, that was very polite of you.

(The Library)

MC: Thank you?!? What in Salazar does that mean?

Imelda: He’s stupid, MC. You should know this by now.

[myokk]

marry me

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 5,4k

summary: in which Garreth Weasley has a potions mishap that causes MC to become incomprehensibly proper, and Sebastian is going mad.

cw: fluff, mutual pining, giant squid guest appearance, marriage proposal, loss of virginity RATED M (not *really* explicit) smut (18+ ONLY)

a/n: I had so much fun writing this! I've been working on it since January (I'm the world's slowest writer) and shout out to the amazing girl in my ao3 comments who requested this!! 🫶​

If Sebastian Sallow could curse Garreth Weasley and get away with it, he would.

Unfortunately, after an incident involving Prewett and some misplaced toads, he's being monitored too closely by staff and students alike. Staff, so that it won't happen again, and students in the hope that they will see something and gain the prestige of being the ones to tell everyone else about it. It seems to Sebastian as if students of the red-headed Gryffindor variety are out to get him and make his life an absolute miserable living hell, and he is not happy about it.

That weaselly red-headed bastard had, once again, created a potion whose effects had gone disastrously wrong. This time, he had convinced her that it would alter her memory for 'only a day!', to give her an easier time retaining information so that exams would be easier for her. Their NEWTs are causing the seventh-year students to have periodic nervous breakdowns, and hers had apparently manifested in believing Weasley. Although Sebastian had, time and time again, tried convincing her that it didn't matter if sometimes they had to go over notes a few times before she truly understood them, she had always had a complex about it. If Sebastian had known that Weasley was going to rope her into being the test subject of his latest experiment, he would have tried to put a stop to it.

Sebastian surreptitiously looks over to the girl at his side.

Her head is bent down, dark hair shining in the late-afternoon sunlight as she quietly reads a book at his side. They're sitting on the shore of the Black Lake, it's one of those unusually warm spring days where one could fool themselves into believing it's already summer, and as he stares down at her Sebastian can't help but think of what they would normally be up to. Well, normally as of a few weeks ago.

Sebastian hasn't been able to touch her in two weeks, and he is going mad.

She drags a delicate finger across the words as she reads, her dark lashes fanning out across her cheeks as her eyes follow her finger, plump lips moving slightly as she occasionally whispers the extra-beautiful sounding words to herself.

Well, he could touch her, in theory, hypothetically, but she won't allow it.

She is hell-bent on keeping things as proper as possible between the two of them, and even holding eye contact with Sebastian for too long is seemingly enough to make her so hot and bothered that she can't even speak in his presence. (Sebastian once again curses Garreth.) He slowly, casually, brings his hand closer to where hers is, gently brushing his pinky against hers. Her whole body tenses, she immediately colors and glances up at him, and Sebastian's breath catches in his throat at the sight of the sun glinting in her eyes, the light giving them more depth.

(He can't help but think of a time a few weeks ago, where they were both fumbling with the buttons of each others' shirts, nervous and excited with the feelings that only new love can bring, her eyes glinting similarly and yet mischievous, as if daring him to continue his exploration of her -)

Carefully, she moves her hand away and drags her eyes back to her novel. He hears her murmur, and leans in closer to see what she's saying, the light scent of lavender floating up to him as his breath brushes past her ear: "He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

After reading this, she looks at him again and smiles. "That's us, is it not?"

Sebastian gives her a small smile and leans back. Although she's made it abundantly clear that her feelings for him haven't changed at all, she's loathe to let them manifest physically. It would remind Sebastian of the beginning of their feelings for each other, their courtship, had she not acted the complete opposite before, seemingly not being able to get enough of him.

And now, thanks to Weasley, it seems as though their relationship has somehow regressed. Instead of altering her memory for a day, to help her with studying, her personality has somehow been altered.

She's still the same sweet girl he fell in love with. She's always quick to make him laugh with a quip in Transfiguration spoken under her breath, still exasperatingly stubborn about her strange opinions about, well, everything, still obsessed with the lemon tarts served during meals.

The night she had fallen victim to Garreth's experiment, Sebastian had sidled up to her after dinner, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her close so they could steal away and continue their previous night's activities. But, strangely enough, she had squealed and pushed him away, her face flushing a brilliant shade of pink as she looked at him, aghast. Sebastian, she had said, unable to make eye contact with him, what are you doing?

He had been utterly confused himself, somewhat embarrassed at the rejection, and when she continued on about marriage and betrothal and a proper courtship he had felt his whole body go hot and cold at the same time as his throat heated up. Although he can't possibly imagine spending his life with anyone else, although it's a given that she is always a part of any nebulous future he's envisioned for himself, the thought of a commitment of that magnitude is enough to make his heart drop into his stomach. He feels too young to propose, and yet he knows it will happen.

Eventually. Just not now.

He hears a snicker come from behind them and he sighs in resignation. Ominis and Anne have been acting as chaperones during their time spent together, and the two of them find their friend's new-found propriety endlessly hilarious. He admits that he's found it funny, too, and when he's not so frustrated he loves teasing her. There's something so sweet about the way her cheeks flush, how she sputters in indignation when he insinuates anything - Sebastian has to wonder how Garreth's potion has made her interpret their previous intimacies.

She's back to reading silently and Sebastian settles in for another afternoon of hushed whispers, laughter, reading, and decidedly no touching.

She smiles dreamily at her reflection in the mirror as she and Anne get ready for bed that evening. The soft green light filtering through the windows of their dorm room reminds her of the light that had filtered through the leaves that afternoon as she sat at Sebastian's side. "He was so handsome today, wasn't he?"

"You wouldn't be saying that if you'd had to look at his ugly face your whole life," grumbles Anne, finishing her braid with a neat ribbon at the end before turning to her friend. She doesn't hear a word Anne says, instead choosing to stare carefully at her reflection, blushing over the remembrance of Sebastian these last few weeks. The time spent with him has been nothing short of exquisite, and she can feel herself falling more and more in love with him - every stolen glance, the brushing of fingers as they read the same page in a book, the feeling of him leaning in close over her shoulder, his breath tickling the top of her ear and - "Anyways," says Anne, a little more forcefully, snapping her fingers in front of the mirror, "when are you going to let him hold your hand? Might I remind you of what I've caught the two of you doing before? The sight made me want to rip out my eyeballs and feed them to a venomous tentacula and -"

She flushes and looks over at Anne, appalled. How could she joke about something that must have been confessed by accident?

"Anne!" she hisses, looking around frantically to make sure nobody has entered their dorm, "stop being so improper."

The truth is, she doesn't know how much truth is behind Anne's teasing. Her memories from before she took that fated potion from Garreth are cloudy at best, and she prefers to think of them as dreams she's been having lately. Terribly indecent dreams where the object of her every waking thought is doing things to her she never thought possible.

In a moment of weakness she must have confessed something to Anne.

Turning back to her reflection in the mirror: grabbing her hairbrush: trying to tame her unruly curls: steadfastly ignoring Anne pretending to gag behind her. She is over their conversation, especially when Anne is so keen to bring up things she would rather forget. (At least, that's what she tells herself. She gets horribly confused and flustered whenever she thinks of Sebastian in that way.)

But maybe: "I will allow him to hold my hand tomorrow," she says with a sniff, turning towards Anne. Her eyes narrow as she sees her friend stifle a smile before quickly turning towards her bed.

She finds it difficult to fall asleep that night, between blissful remembrances of the dreams she's been trying to forget and the beating of her heart as she thinks about a future with Sebastian and letting him finally hold her hand.

He slips a note to her during Charms.

Dust particles are swirling in the air, Professor Ronan is unusually dull, and the hot summer sun streaming through the windows is just another reminder that they are almost free. Almost done with Hogwarts, almost ready to start the next chapter of their lives and become who they were always meant to be. She can't deny that she's been terribly worried about what's to come - she still is unsure what she wants to do after graduation, and feels her stomach drop whenever she hears the others talk excitedly about the opportunities they've lined up; the only constant in her life is the boy at her side who has been unusually patient with her.

And yet he still hasn't made it clear to her that she is as important to him as he is her. Yes, he is carrying her bag from class to class, reading with her every nice afternoon by the Black Lake, showing her he cares with every gesture, but still:...she can't be sure of how he feels. What if it is all perfunctory? She doesn't want to be forgotten. She loves the little routines they've created for themselves, loves sitting by his side during classes, passing notes; she's loved her short time at Hogwarts and doesn't want to end it yet.

The note is one of many they've been sending back and forth throughout the course of this terribly boring theory class, but this time is different.

His hand is resting on top of the bench between the two of them, note underneath, and were she not so in-tune to his infuriatingly intoxicating presence, she wouldn't have noticed it. He moves with the ease of someone who has been avoiding being caught for many years. And, in the hazy memories (or are they?) she has of her past with Sebastian, the notes the two of them have sent back and forth to each other have not always been so tame.

Surreptitiously, so as not to draw the attention of Professor Ronan (she does not want a scandal), the sound of her blood rushing in her ears as she thinks about what she's about to do, she slowly slides her hand toward Sebastian's - the one resting on top of his note. He starts moving his hand away - he's learned by now to not play any games - but she's faster.

It feels like all of her nerves are located in her fingers as she grazes the back of his freckled hand. She can feel him staring at her in surprise, but she doesn't dare look up at him.

She continues.

Her fingers flutter over his, hesitating, until she gets up her nerve and laces her fingers through his, pressing their palms together. She hears his breath hitch and warmth pools to her stomach at the sound as she finally glances at him. He's looking at her with the most dumbstruck expression on his face and...and her own must mirror his.

She flushes and looks away, but doesn't remove her hand - all she can think about is the feeling of her heartbeat thrumming through her body (can he feel its nervous flutter through her fingertips?), how right the contact feels, and how has she not done this before? But, the nerves she feels are so intense and overwhelming and she doesn't concentrate on Professor Ronan's words for the rest of the lesson.

Sebastian sits, flushed, notes forgotten - even as he leans into the palm of his other hand, trying to look anywhere but at her, she can feel the intensity of his gaze every time his eyes swipe over to her and it's unbearable.

But the thought of letting go of him is even worse.

The morning of the penultimate Saturday before their N.E.W.T.s has Sebastian understandably nervous. He's risen early even for himself - 1 hour and 38 minutes early, to be exact - unable to sleep with everything racing through his mind (equations, charms, precise wand movements, and her) - and has already written down his plan in tiny, neat handwriting, gotten dressed, and has had ample time to worry himself to an early grave.

Ominis has listened to Sebastian for the better part of an hour as he paces back and forth across their dorm, probably creating a tiny, worn-down path in the rugs with his persistence. Sebastian's sure his friend is tuning his ramblings out by now, but he can't help it.

Everything needs to turn out perfectly, and, although he knows that he tends to simultaneously overthink and ruin everything he attempts, this time he cannot. He's been practicing this speech over and over in his mind for days now, had started composing the beginning phrases in his mind weeks, maybe even years ago - maybe since she knocked him to the ground in their first duel at Crossed Wands and taken his breath away.

Of course, back then he hadn't quite realized what was going on - or that it would shape the rest of his life.

He had just known that he wanted to keep her close, by any means possible, whatever that might entail. And with all they've been through together: turning to each other for comfort and understanding after everything that happened their fifth year, the hushed confessions of love that came eventually, their first awkward, lovely kiss and everything that followed - even all of their little squabbles and misunderstandings have brought them closer - Sebastian knows now with certainty that she will be in his life forever and he's been a fool to be so scared of what's to come.

"Did you hear me?"

Ominis shifts in his seat and huffs. "I stopped listening the second I heard of your plan and I've been mentally reciting the uses of flobberworm mucous since then. It's about time, you know. I don't know what's taken you so long."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. Now," Ominis gets to his feet and stops Sebastian from his pacing, clasping his hand. "You know what you need to do, and we'll be waiting to congratulate you when it's all said and done. Maybe we can all go out for a butterbeer in Hogsmeade later on."

(Little did Sebastian know, that would decidedly not happen.)

He nods, anxious despite his friend's support, and heads towards the door. He glances one last time at Ominis before leaving, almost reassured by the sight of him sitting at his desk, back straight, as his fingers slide over the pages of his book. Today marks the beginning of many changes that are about to come to Sebastian Sallow's life, but he can't deny it's comforting to see that some things are still the same.

Step One: Bribe the House-Elves

Sebastian steals into the Kitchens after tickling the pear in the painting guarding its entrance, and is immediately surrounded by a sea of bobbing heads at roughly the height of his waist, huge eyes blinking up at him. He looks beyond them; the whole kitchen is bustling and swarming with house-elves running around with purpose, bowls and whisks and bags of flour and sugar in their tiny hands, not wasting a single move as they prepare breakfast for all of the students.

"What does the young man need?" squeaks a house-elf with particularly hairy ears, grabbing him by the elbow.

In the end, Sebastian leaves the kitchens with more than he had bargained for, no bribes necessary.

He curses himself for never taking advantage of the kitchens before his last week of his final year of school, stuffing leftover pastries in his pockets after meals like a fool, when he could have done this all along. Well, either way, he now has plenty of baguettes - twenty-five to be exact - slung in a bag over his shoulder as he goes to greet the object of his affection. He checks his watch - shit - how is he five minutes late? - and he picks up the pace to the Clock Tower Courtyard, patting his breast-pocket to make sure that the tiny ring embossed with garnets is still in its place.

Step Two: Meet her in the courtyard at 8.00 am sharp (having previously sent her an owl invitation the week before to make sure she wouldn't make any other plans) (ignoring the fact that she is normally sleeping at this time on a Saturday morning)

Sebastian skids to a halt as he reaches the courtyard, looking around for her tell-tale wild curls, and doesn't see her yet. He's only seven minutes late - that's not enough for her to stop waiting is it? - and yet, at her absence, he begins to despair that he's ruined everything. Catastrophically ruined things like the huge, bumbling, idiot he is, and what's he going to do with all of these baguettes now? Eat them? Oh, Merlin, maybe he needs to head back to the Kitchens and get some butter, jam, brie, marmalade -

"Sorry I'm late." A breathless voice interrupts his spiral. His head snaps over to where he's heard her voice and the bubble of his despair bursts, but his nerves are still setting his body on fire. She is absolutely breathtaking, the golden light of the early morning sun glinting in her hair, dancing down the slope of her nose and lighting up her eyes in the way that makes them golden-tinged and deep and beautiful.

Step Two-and-a-Half (improvised): Remember how to breathe

Taking in a few deep breaths really does help ground him, although he can't really tear his eyes away from her face, nor can he forget why he's asked her to meet up with him.

Step Three: Escort her down to the Black Lake, where Anne has (hopefully, she was bribed to help out otherwise the fact that she had a dream about Leander will be accidentally told to Sacharissa) left a basket

As they walk down to the Black Lake, Sebastian can tell she's mystified. Their usual chaperones - Anne and Ominis - are absent, and it's just the two of them. They haven't been alone together since the night before she took Garreth's potion and became incomprehensibly proper.

He swallows nervously and glances over to her. She's been chattering to fill up the silence: "...of course, I told Imelda she was daft if she didn't understand how ridiculous it was..."

And, just at the sound of her sweet voice, he feels little bubbles of happiness fill his chest as if he's just drunk a bottle of pumpkin fizz. He can't help it - he reaches over and laces his fingers through hers. She stops speaking abruptly and flushes; birdsong fills the absence of her voice and her eyes flicker to the bag he has hoisted over his shoulder. "By the way, what are you keeping in there?"

Sebastian just gives her a crooked smile he knows will fluster her more, squeezes her hand, and is grateful she's only noticed the huge bag stuffed with baguettes and not the slight bulge in the pocket of his waistcoat. His heart is fit to burst out of his chest as he thinks of what's to come, but focusing on ways to make her splutter in indignation and step four of his plan is helping him to ground himself.

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

Slowly, he brings her hand up to his mouth and turns it at the last minute, pressing a kiss to her inner wrist. All of a sudden the atmosphere has changed: her breath falters at the contact, her eyes are wide and unblinking as she stares up at him and the expression on her face is enough to obliterate any thoughts from Sebastian's own mind; quite dangerous, really. His earnestness turns into a smirk and he brings his mouth to the palm of her hand, brushing his lips over it. He knows he's pushing things too far and -

"Sebastian!" she squeals, ripping her hand out of his, and Sebastian takes the opportunity to run ahead, "Wait for me!" - laughing as he leads her on an overgrown path towards their destination. He turns to look back at her, face flushed, a huge smile taking over her face, nose crinkling as she laughs, hair and robes flowing behind her as she tries to keep up with him. How has he gotten so lucky as to have her in his life?

He knows that he hasn't always been easy to get along with. Their fifth year, he had made things impossibly difficult for her, for everyone, and yet she had always stayed by his side. Trusting that he would come to his senses and somehow, with her help, he has.

Even with his nerves, he's never felt more sure of anything in his life than what he has planned now.

Sebastian Sallow is a quite perplexing. That's what she thinks, anyways, as she stares down at his broad back. He's bent over a picnic basket that's sitting in a clearing by the shore of the lake. She's never seen this part of the Grounds before and takes some time to look around while Sebastian finishes whatever he's doing.

He couldn't have picked a more beautiful day to sequester her away. Maybe fate has conspired to make it one she will remember for the rest of her life. It's one of those days when nature seems to be singing: the plants vibrantly green and dappled early sunlight filtering through the leaves, birds flitting from branch to branch above them, chattering and chirping to one another. And the lake, oh, the lake is beautiful. Still and unmoving, its water a deep green; she thinks once again (as she has been all of these last days at Hogwarts) how much she loves this, and how much she will miss it.

Sebastian Sallow is also infuriating.

He still hasn't told her why he has brought her all the way here, with a satchel stuffed with bread, making her wake up so early to meet up with him. 'It is of tantamount importance that you are available...' he had written in the note left for her a week ago, but the urgency was unnecessary. Even when she has no idea what he's planned, she can't help but say yes, can't help but want to be close to him always.

The feeling of his breath brushing against the palm of her hand is still burning bright-hot and she is scared to move her fingers lest it go away. Ever since she laced her fingers through his in Charms class two weeks ago, he's been finding excuses to try and get closer to her and she's simultaneously excited and scared every time they touch. This is the first time they've been alone together without her protection - Anne and Ominis - she's unsure if she trusts herself or Sebastian less, but she has to be free of them eventually.

"Well," he says, breaking her out of her reverie, "I think it's all in order." He leans back on his haunches and looks up at her, giving her the small smile that always makes her stomach flutter.

"But what is this all for?"

She gestures at the blanket he's spread out between them, at the baguettes he's pulling out of his bag, and huffs in frustration. She does not like being kept in the dark, and the expectations she had been building in her mind ever since she got his letter were not matching up to whatever's going on.

"We're going to feed the giant squid, silly." Sebastian stands up suddenly, holding one of the baguettes, and launches it into the lake. It floats there for a minute - tiny waves rippling across the smooth water from the impact - and then, as it slowly starts sinking, a huge tentacle shoots out of the water and grabs it, pulling it underneath.

She laughs in delight as she sees more tentacles come up to the surface of the water, searching for more bread. For as much disgust as she had for it her first year at Hogwarts, she's come to grow fond of the giant squid, even sometimes daring to tickle its tentacles with Imelda on sunny afternoons when they need a break from studying.

Now, Sebastian's handing a baguette to her, his fingers brushing against hers and she shivers at the contact, her eyes flicking up to his, uncertain. He doesn't pull away; instead wrapping sure fingers around hers as he guides her to the shore. Her back is flush against his chest as he guides her to throw the baguette, but she doesn't even see it hit the water. The feeling and heat of his body pressed against hers is all-encompassing and she turns around slowly - so slowly - and...

Sebastian brings his fingers up to caress the line of her jaw, then brush over her lips, her cheekbone, tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, tug the hair at her scalp and pull her face closer to his. Her eyes flutter closed as his breath warms her lips - is this really, finally happening? - and the first hesitant, sweet brush of his lips against hers is almost enough to cause her to faint. If his other arm wasn't wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer to him, she's positive she would have fallen as her knees threaten to buckle. Hesitant hands come up to grab the front of Sebastian's robes as their kiss deepens and yet before she knows it - before she wants it to end - Sebastian is pulling away from her with a sheepish smile, pressing his forehead against hers and breathing heavily.

"That was..."

But then -

She feels something slimy snake itself around her ankle, wrapping around before she's pulled backwards into the water with a shriek. She sees Sebastian's shocked face, arms reaching out hands scrabbling as he tries to grab her before she can be pulled into the water, but it's futile.

She's really not dragged that far into the water.

Once the squid realizes she has no more bread on her person, it retreats back to the deeper water it came from.

Maybe she wasn't pulled very far into the lake, but it's still enough to have all of her clothes completely and utterly drenched and she is mortified. As she sputters and staggers to her feet, pushing her heavy, wet hair out of her face, she sees Sebastian splashing towards her.

His face is absolutely flabbergasted and concerned for her and full of love and she forgets all of her annoyance at being wet as she sees him make his way to where she is. "Are you -?"

Sebastian is cut off as she throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to hers as she peppers it with kisses. He almost loses his balance, but quickly recovers and gathers her in his arms, easily returning her vigor. She can't get enough of him; she knows she's being greedy as she deepens their kiss, but she feels as if she's woken from a deep slumber and is alive again.

Her whole body is so, so sensitive: his fingertips feel electric as they dance across her back, her waist, as if they're drawing all of her nerves to wherever they touch. Maybe it's the sensation of her wet clothes dragging across her delicate skin, maybe it's the months of pent-up frustration with herself for not being able to touch him.

He pulls away slightly, laughing, as he takes in her appearance. She must look like a drowned kneazle, hair-wild-face-flushed-eyes-gleaming, and yet there is nothing but love in his eyes when Sebastian looks at her. He grabs her hand and leads her to the shore, where they've left the picnic basket. They're both laughing as they splash through the water, fingers intertwined.

She sits down and begins to unlace her wet boots, peel off her stockings, Sebastian following suit, and once she plops the wet boots down next to her she huffs and looks at him fondly. "Well, was that part of your plan?"

Sebastian shakes his head and he looks so dejected that she simply has to lean over and kiss him. She pulls away slightly, lips brushing against his as she smiles and whispers, "I don't care." The feeling of his breath against her lips is too intoxicating and she simply has to close the minuscule distance between them again. Sebastian seemingly can't help himself either, because in no time his hand comes up to caress her face, her jaw, buries itself in the thick hair at the nape of her neck, and he's deepening the kiss.

She's gasping into his mouth, needing more, remembering the last time they kissed all those months ago - how has it been months? - and she breaks away briefly, staring into his eyes. His pupils are dilated, hers must match - "Sebastian?" she whispers against his lips, "What happened?"

He brings his hand back to her face, eyes searching hers as he looks for some answer she doesn't know if she can provide. "I..." he shakes his head slightly, smiling, "it's not important." As they kiss again, she sighs happily into his mouth - she missed this. Her hands come up to grasp at the back of his head, tugging him, pulling him closer to her, and she deepens the kiss.

She feels her stomach clench in an unfamiliar way as Sebastian gasps into her mouth - "Merlin, I've missed this, I didn't know..." - and she is certain that this will be a moment of her life she will always remember.

She will always remember how he - almost nervously, shy in a way she has never seen him before - brings her to the picnic blanket they'd abandoned. They will laugh as they try to peel her soaking wet clothes off, Sebastian's fingers fumbling as he works the buttons on her blouse; the first tentative brush of his lips against her bare collarbone will make her shiver with anticipation.

They will both be breathless between kisses, between exploring each others' bodies, between the gasps of devotion they breathe to each other. Every drag of Sebastian's fingers down her waist, her hips, will send jolts of pure magic through her body, how could anything feel so good? - and she will arch her back towards him, craving more.

His hands will be everywhere on her skin all at once, her mouth on his mouth, the feelings and sensations burning through her until there is only the two of them in that moment, their limbs tangled and their breathing synchronized as they move together.

It will be needy, and messy, and awkward, and full of laughter. When they join, it will feel like a finally.

And afterwards, when they are lying lazily-peacefully-quietly together, tracing fingers over still-sensitive skin, wrapped up in a haze of love and tangled limbs and feeling at peace, she will notice a bulge in the breast pocket of Sebastian's discarded waistcoat.

He will watch her reach over, curious, a small smile playing on his lips as she pulls out the tiny box. Her breath will catch in her throat and her fingers will be trembling as she tries to open it, before Sebastian takes over and opens it for her.

It won't be the perfect proposal he had planned, but it will be perfect in its own way and tears will be inexplicably falling down her face as she smiles and says 'yes' over and over until it loses meaning.

[deadghosy]

How my favorite Slytherin boys react to you passing out.

Warning: Hogwarts legacy to Harry Potter

Ft. Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

Sebastian Sallow

“I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Please don— BLIMEY!”

Immediately catches you a little and takes you to the hospital wing. He’s definitely most worried about you since he was scared in the back of his mind that you might have been cursed like his twin sister during an adventure.

After he found out it was cause you hadn’t eaten, he’s shoving some honeyduke sweets down your throat and meals. 3 meals per day is what he’s making sure you are eating before another adventure starts.

Ominis Gaunt

You haven’t slept much, all these adventures sure were wreaking your body. You came in the common room to rest on the couch. Not noticing that a certain gaunt had sense you, you passed out before getting to the damned couch.

He sensed you passed out and he started to feel scared. He was put away his wand and started to feel you on the floor. And when he finally got the touch of your arm, he gripped it and pulled you towards him. Setting your head in his lap as he was praying to anything, anyone for you to wake up.

So when you woke up he felt relieved but asked you to go see the nurses when you felt like you could walk.

After finding out you haven’t been getting sleep from the trials and adventures you have been going through with Sebastian.

He gave the poor sallow boy an earful of a scolding.

Mattheo Riddle

You passed out due to overheating yourself. You were studying day and night. Of course your beloved riddle was concern, so he comes into your room. When you seen him and tried to stand up, that’s when you fell like an animated cartoon.

Mattheo thought you tripped on yourself, but when you didn’t move he got worried and checked you out.

As he felt your head was burning, he unbutton your shirt and ran to the bathroom to get a cold towel. Putting it in your forehead, he waited.

Waking up to see mattheo was sure a shocker since you would’ve thought he might’ve took you to the hospital wing.

Theodore Nott

He caught you when he noticed you had gotten “dizzy” is what you said in the morning.

He knew something was off when you kept looking spaced out. So when he caught your body that was going to hit the floor, he took you to the medic wing and let the head nurse treat you.

He visits often, telling you about the classes and slight drama. And after you still recover and leave the wing, he’s treating you like you will break.

And now you got a overprotective Theodore on your side

Lorenzo Berkshire

Panic mode actived

Poor baby let out a scream which alerted a professor over and took you to the medic wing

He was anxious waiting for news on when you can be release and how the blazes did to pass out.

You passed out because you forgot to ate for the 2nd time. Prepare for this Slytherin boy to put a lot of food on your plate for weeks.

[morelikeravenbore]

Feigning Indifference

"— And on the edge of it all, standing alone by the stands, there's you: arms crossed, little pout on your cute face, feigning indifference."

 (I promised Quidditch!smut for the girlies a literal year ago, oop. 🐢🐢🐢 Anyhoo...)

Rated: Explicit. MDNI. NSFW. 🔞

Content warnings: f!reader, no mention of house or appearance, size difference kink, semi-public sex, voyeurism/exhibitionist fantasies, possessive!Sebastian, Beater!Sebastian, feral!Sebastian, excessive use of the word fuck, p in v, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1.8k

[MASTERLIST] [WATTPAD]

Sebastian descends onto the Quidditch pitch, wind-swept, sweat-soaked — victorious.

Like a stone in quicksand, he's swallowed up by the cheering throng of admirers before he's even fully off his broom; Slytherin's mostly, their faces painted emerald, scarves transfigured into woolly snakes around their necks — they crowd around him, beside themselves with the thrill of Sebastian's triumph, back-slapping, hand-shaking, cheek-kissing. Sebastian is glad to be wearing his protective gear against the most enthusiastic among them — not that he's weak without his shoulder pads and arm guards, but some thump him so hard with their congratulations that he wonders if they're Gryffindor’s in disguise trying to put him out of action before the next match.

Once he's past the worst of it, he shirks off his Beater's gear: pads, guards, helmet (even cup, which he unashamedly yanks right out of his pants) hit the ground in quick succession, discarded for the teams’ first-year assistant to collect in his wake (provided his rabid fan club doesn't get to them first.)

Thanks to his seventh-year growth spurt, Sebastian is hardly any smaller without his bulky gear on — a fact he uses to his full advantage to shoulder through the crowd. It takes him several minutes to wind his way through; supporters and haters in equal measure jostle for his attention, girls squeal and find excuses to touch him, Imelda criticises his technique as he passes (even though he just won her the bloody match), and somebody lets off a series of explosions overhead that shower the crowd with green and silver sparks. — And on the edge of it all, standing alone by the stands, there's you: arms crossed, little pout on your cute face, feigning indifference. 

He wants to kiss the frown right off your face. 

‘There you are.’ He grins down at you. You glare up at him.

‘Seven different girls touched your shoulders just now,’ you grumble, scanning your narrowed eyes over the crowd. ‘Two more touched your chest, and that last one tried to climb you.’

Sebastian's grin widens, delighting in your jealousy. ‘Did they?’ He affects a look of innocence. ‘I didn't notice.’

‘Liar.’ You shoot him a deeply contemptuous look. ‘Maybe I should take up Quidditch, see how you like seeing your girlfriend being groped after every match.’

His amusement drops faster than a fumbled Quaffle. Usually, he finds your little jealous streak endearing — after pining after you for two long years, convinced his feelings were one-sided, your possessiveness makes him embarrassingly gooey-eyed and lovesick. But today he's too jacked up on adrenaline to let that comment slide: nobody touches you but him. Not even in your imagination. 

With no more effort than he expends on waving his Beater's bat around (less, even), he lifts you with one arm, bringing your face level with his. 

‘I wouldn't let you play Quidditch,’ he says lowly, his voice deep with authority.

Authority which you completely ignore, like always.

Incensed, you scoff and wiggle and squirm for freedom (‘Ugh, put me down, you brute! — You can't tell me what to do! — If I want to play Quidditch, you can't stop me!’) but Sebastian only waits, watching your little tantrum with a mix of resigned patience and wry amusement. 

‘You're not the boss of me!’ you wail. You’re tiny in his grip, slender limbed and delicate, but you’re agile enough to break free if he doesn’t handle you right. His arm tightens around you, pinning you so firmly against his chest that you squeak. 

‘Yes,’ he growls in your face, ‘I am.’

Despite all the height and the strength he’s gained since you met in fifth year (or the physique if all the giggles and whispers about his shoulders are to be believed), Sebastian is, generally speaking, an unapologetic softie when it comes to you: the most precious thing he's ever beheld, there's not a girl alive more loved than you. But fresh off the field, bolstered by the dizzying rush of glory and adrenaline, all his usual gentleness eludes him. — Suddenly, he wants to do more than kiss the frown off your face. 

A hot lick of desire alights in his belly, as familiar as it is impossible to ignore. Without another word, he hoists you higher and carries you off beneath the stands; game forgotten, celebrations be damned, he only has eyes for you, little doll, little bunny caught in his hungry gaze, so small and soft and devourable. 

You yelp when your back meets the wall, but hidden now deep in shadows, Sebastian only grins, wolfish. Grateful he'd thought to discard his cup, he pins you there with his hips, making sure you feel every sudden aching inch of him between your legs. 

You're his now. You both know it. 

‘How can you be jealous when you're the only one who does this to me?’ He leans in close enough to spill hot words right into your pretty, parted mouth. ‘I should fuck you standing. Right here,’ — he punctuates with a sharp thrust that makes you gasp, — ‘right now.’

Your eyes go wide, but whether you're scandalised by his audacity or desperate for him to keep whispering filth, Sebastian doesn't particularly care.

He wants to fuck the shock right off your face. 

‘R-right here?’ The wobble in your voice makes him twitch. He grinds into you again, sloooowly this time, rolling the entire length of himself against you while he watches you shift from stubborn brat to good fucking girl; no matter how many times he's seen you like this, flushed pink and panting, he's still utterly obsessed with the moment you finally give in. 

Because you always give in. 

‘Why not?’ He begins the careful crumbling of your resolve with the top button of your blouse, then the second button, third, fourth… But by the fifth his patience snaps and he yanks — hard; no need for a vanishing charm, he rips your shirt clean open. Buttons pop off in all directions; he knows you'll scold him for that later, but right now you only have strength enough to whimper. 

‘What if they see?’ You palm his shoulders — but you're pulling, not pushing. 

‘Let them.’ His lips are on the hollow of your collarbone, sucking shivers out of you. ‘Let them watch me fucking ruin you.’

Yanking you away from the wall, he spins you around and envelopes you from behind, one arm curled so tightly around your waist you couldn't wiggle free even if you wanted to. Not that you do want to; that much is clear when his other hand slides beneath your undies. Fingers slick, he fucking moans his way down the side of your neck, his tongue laving a hot, wet stripe down to your shoulder. 

‘You think I want to touch any of them like this, huh?’ He bundles your little body against him like a blanket, his arms taut and muscles straining as he works your moans free with his hands and his tongue. You buck obediently against his palm, and when he slides two thick, long fingers inside you, your knees give out. He holds you up, pinned pretty to his chest, your tits heaving in the open air, nipples begging to be painted wet by his hungry mouth. 

Sweat drips from his hair and lands on your face. ‘You think I want to fuck any of them the way I fuck you?’

Through the gaps between the stands, the Quidditch pitch is empty, quickly abandoned for post-match festivities (or commiserations if you're a Gryffindor). He imagines marching you back out there right now fucking you in the middle of it, stripping you bare and pounding you silly while the teams debrief in the changerooms and the Slytherin's celebrate their win in the dungeons. — He'd never do it for real, of course, but the fantasy of claiming you so openly, having you exposed and babbling on his cock for anyone to see makes him dizzy. 

He wants everyone to know you're his. 

The thought makes him fucking — lose — it. 

Hot and thick in his hand, he strokes himself free from his trousers with frantic pumps and a long, drawn-out whimper. If he's teetering on the edge of control, then you don't stand a chance; he hoists your leg up and rubs himself desperately against your underwear, mouthing your neck from behind, palming your tits with his big, calloused hand. Never has he been more grateful for all the grueling training sessions that have granted him the strength to manhandle you onto his cock whenever the mood strikes.

Undies bunched to the side, you arch your back and reach an arm around his shoulder, begging, begging, begging even as he's pushing in, in, into you. The sound he makes when he's fully sheathed is nothing short of feral; he stumbles forward, that hot, tight squeeeeeze of you so good it makes him weak in the knees. 

It's fucking unbearable what you do to him, the way you make him dribble and buck and moan all sorts of dirty things in your little ear — the way you make him lose control. 

‘Look at you,’ he slurs, anchoring you to his body with the full, hot length of his cock. ‘S'fucking good, s’all fucking mine.’

Holding your leg up, he sets a slow, deep rhythm and imagines himself watching you: a last-minute straggler drawn to your hiding place by your sweet moans. He imagines how pretty you'd look all stretched out and stuffed full of himself, tits bouncing, mouth agape with pleasure, too fucked out of your mind to realise how loud you are. He'd touch himself to it — oh fuck yes he would, edging himself to time his climax with yours. And maybe you'd notice him, a pair of dark eyes burning with desire. Maybe you'd like it. Maybe it'd make you cum harder. 

Fuck. Lust roils thick and luscious in his stomach and he makes a mental note to fuck you in front of a mirror next time. 

He's gasping now, slamming into you so hard your foot almost leaves the ground with every thrust.

‘If only —’ he groans, ‘— they could — see you —’ He drops his head to your shoulder and bites. ‘You're the — ngh — only one — oh, fuck —’

Surely you know — surely you understand that it's always been you; that the way you surrender makes him feel strong; that being inside you makes him feel less broken. Surely you know that he uses his body to say the things he can't put into words. 

It's more than sex: he fucking loves you. 

Your peak hits you first: a long, slow, wet release that Sebastian rides out as best he can without falling over. He moans along with you, echoing ecstasy into your ear, holding you up while your body succumbs to the overwhelming love he gives and gives and gives over to you. And when you're done, spent and shivering in his arms, sweet and limp and loved to the extreme, he follows. 

[theealbatross]

never not been mine (s.s)

Plot | Everyone wonders if you and Sebastian are together. Sebastian wonders when will everyone mind their own business.

Tags | fluff, cheesy pining, we're not together or are we, cranky!seb, slytherin!reader, curses, threats, prejudice, seeker!seb for the plot, established relationship (kinda), when you love her so much it drives you insane, seb and reader are shit seniors is my headcannon

[Disclaimer | I borrowed a scene from "no hard feelings" because it was trending on tiktok lol. Also a portion of this is heavily inspired by 'The Alchemy' by Taylor Swift'. Photos not mine.]

“Just one drink – butterbeers on me!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the eager nameless hopeful in front of you.

The wince from his two friends at the other edge of the common room was apparent at your periphery. You had to give it to him, he’s lasted longer than the others. Usually, most would be walking away with their egos bruised when greeted with your disinterest.

“Not like you have any … pending appointments, don’t you?” He tried to maintain his bravado, even taking a step closer to the loveseat you were sitting on by the fire.

Call it an instinct, a bond only kindred spirits that have tethered in-between life and death together would have, but you could almost feel him – not needing to see him to recognize the heavy steps on the stone stairs, the deep sigh as he impatiently scours the common room in search of you, and the inevitable crinkle that forms in-between his eyebrows when he sees someone else in your vicinity.

You smile.

“I have one,” you muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

His smirk faltered, eyebrows meeting, “A boyfriend?”

You shook your head.

“Pending appointments,” you grin.

His body comically cloaked the significantly shorter boy from behind.

“There you are.”

Sebastian barely glanced at the 6th year in front of you even when their shoulders bumped, making the student stumble. On instinct, you moved your legs to the side so Sebastian could curl up on the floor, his head finding comfort on the meat of your covered thigh, callused hands curling on your calf as he slumped into your lap.

His hair was still dripping sweat, the quidditch uniform he had on covered with muck and dirt and a spattering of blood, and yet here he was, shamelessly sharing his mess with your clothes. You can almost hear Ominis’ disapproving voice, ‘He's a spoiled dog!’.

Ah, but how could you not when he seemed to be cursed at being so good at everything and yet so miserable doing anything else but spending his time with you. Even you can’t be that heartless.

You ran your hands on his damp hair, making sure to press your fingers on his scalp, unable to stop the soft coos from coming out of your mouth. Sebastian had always needed extra attention after his drills with Imelda, the latter determined to tun him into her very own secret weapon of destruction for this upcoming Quidditch season.

This, in turn, had cut his time with you to his utter despair.

“Can we help you?” You were too busy tending to him that you hadn’t realized you still had an audience. Your pet wasn’t the friendliest, especially with strangers of the opposite sex that stares at you.

“N-No, I was just – we were having a conversa –”

Sebastian frowned, the boy took a step back, you place a halting hand on his shoulder.  

“I’ll,” you’re sure even this silly one knows of your Sebastian’s temperament. He wasn’t necessarily the type to be awarded as The Friendliest Senior of the Year.

(“You were nice to me the first time we met.” “Maybe I’m only nice to pretty witches.”)

“I’ll just talk to you later when you’re free.”

“Or not,” Sebastian deadpanned, his grip on your calf tightening, eyebrows meeting.

“Surely it couldn’t hurt–”

“Could hurt.”

“Sebastian.”

It was a pitiful sight but you’ve spared the boy a fate worse than a bruised pride as he muttered a clanky goodbye before turning his back the two of you. Sebastian still glowering at his fleeing back.

“Do you have to be so mean?” you half-heartedly admonished him, patting his freckled cheeks. He really is so handsome, easily the most eligible bachelor in your batch, biased opinion aside.

“Maybe I haven’t been mean enough if they still approach you,” he muttered, clearly still annoyed. His eyes shift from one boy to another accusatorially like if he stared long enough, he’ll catch them in the act of being interested after you and deliver the right sentence as an example.

After the events with Ranrok, high society quickly set its eyes on you. He thought he had nipped it in the bud, sending scathing letters back to prideful pureblood boys for their gall to direct formal letters of engagement to you, audaciously sticking by your side at all times, and severely punishing anyone who dared to even think of courting you. (One even tried to challenge him to a duel. It was barely entertaining, almost downright cruel. Sebastian hopes that the boy is enjoying Ilvermorny.)

Truly, he has his work cut out for him.

Your giggle pulled him out of his unpleasant thoughts, “You should go shower, it’s about to be dinner time.”

He hummed, “Can I use The Room? Hate the boy’s lavatory, ‘s a mess.”

You ignore the quick turning of heads of the students nearest you, trying not to laugh at their scandalized faces, aware of how bad it sounded. Instead, you let him stand and take your hand as he bitterly shared his hypothesis that Imelda was a dark wizard planted to torment him while he led you to the familiar steps toward the Room of Requirement.

On the other side of the room, the rejected boy glared at his sniggering friends.

“You told me they weren’t courting!” he accused.

“In my defense,” his friend shrugged, giggling at the spectacular explosion in front of her very eyes. Who would’ve thought Sebastian Sallow would catch the idiot in the act. “They aren’t but everyone knows they’re ... exclusive.”

“Exclusive?”

“We warned you! I warned you!” Their other friend, the more level-headed one was exasperated. “I’m so bloody terrified of Sallow I don’t even dare to look in her direction! Do you know there are rumors of him mastering forbidden spells? It’s why he had practically spent the entire half of 6th year serving a mysterious detention service for Professor Hecate.”

His other two friend looked at him in doubt. “I thought that was because he bombarda-ed the pants out of that Ravenclaw after he was challenged to a duel –”

“Regardless! He’s dangerous!”

“But are they dating or not?”

“No one knows, okay? That’s like in the Hogwarts top 3 mysteries.” The girl snipped.

“I may know someone who might know.”

Two heads swiveled to the boy who was already staring at a regal silhouette, sitting peacefully on the couch nearest the windows and furthest from any other person in the large common room – simultaneously seeming peaceful and brooding at the same time. As if feeling their gaze on him his unseeing eyes suddenly snapped in their direction, the boys physically flinched, the girl even covering her mouth to hide a gasp as they quickly vacated their spot before they truly tested their luck with the 7th-year Head Boy.

Ominis Gaunt.

The three sighed, resigned to leave that stone unturned.

“Guess we’ll never know.”

Sebastian flustered at the pretty boxes wrapped in silk, laces, and ribbons being shoved to his face, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a mix of embarrassment and honor.

He’s mostly gotten used to the numerous attention he receives but the abrupt surge of volume between his 6th and 7th year sometimes still gives him whiplash. It’s amazing what a growth spurt can do in your social standing.

“Thank you, ladies. I really appreciate it.” He flashed them a polite smile, genuinely flattered and touched at the thoughtful presents even if they are a bit overeager.

Swoons and giggles erupted from the small crowd, so dramatic yet so entertaining.

“Excuse me, Sebastian?”

From the middle of the crowd, Blaine Marune a fellow 7th year pushed herself to the front. She was a popular girl, sought after by many of his teammates. He cocked a brow at her Slytherin shirt when she was a Gryffindor, the team Sebastian was playing against. Was she dating someone on his team?

“Can you sign my shirt?”

Gasps scattered on the ground at her bold request, especially since she stretched out her shirt so the space by her chest was extended. He had to give it to these Gryffindors, they sure do live up to their name.

“Your girlfriend wouldn’t mind, would she?”

He frowned at the implication, suddenly hating the inquisitive eyes snapping between them, clearly curious as to his status. “That’s –”

“She’s here! Look!” A voice from behind the crowd gasped.

Sebastian swiftly turned his head, barely catching your eyes just as you slipped inside the tower that held the stairs to the bleachers up above. Mindlessly, he forgot all about the little scene that was unfolding between him and the Gryffindor and turned away from his gaggle of admirers to walk to the edge of the field, jumping on his broom to fly in front of you when you seemed to take a wrong turn to the other side of the bleachers.

“Wrong direction, darling. I saved you your seat,” he grinned even as you ignored him, walking a leisure pace as he floated beside you.

“I’m not sitting next to your admirers,” She quipped, still refusing to look at him, marching with a purpose. “Darling.”

She’s jealous. Sebastian beamed, flying closer so he could reach out an arm to stop her steps.

“Don’t be like that,” his words were soft yet the grin in his face couldn’t be tamed even if he did try. “You know I like it when I can see you at all times.”

Giggles and whispers were murmured from the seated crowd behind you.

“She’s here!” “The Felix Felicis is here!” “There’s no way those Gryffindor bastards will beat us now.”

The burn in your face doubled in intensity as you tried your hardest to ignore such embarrassing remarks.

It started with a silly coincidence.

In one of Sebastian’s first games last year, you had been running late, roped in a last-minute hunt for a large Ancient Magic hotspot that had abruptly appeared on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. When you entered the Quidditch Pitch the game was in full swing. However, your entrance had caught Sebastian’s attention which coincidentally also happened to be the moment the Snitch flew straight towards you. It was one of the shortest games in Hogwart’s centuries-long history as he had gotten a hold of it inches away from your face. The team included you in their celebration by throwing the two of you in the air.

From then on, it was duly noted that Sebastian’s performance remarkably improved every time you were in attendance. It didn’t help that the one time you didn’t attend one of his inter-school practice matches they had lost by a couple of points to Durmstrang.

Imelda had damn near made you swear on an Unbreakable Vow that you would watch every single one of their games from then on.

Hence, being Sebastian Sallow’s Felix Felicis became your position and moniker throughout the entirety of Quidditch Season, and as embarrassing as it was, it would seem your usually level-headed friend had either gotten roped in the ridiculous suspicion or was enjoying your obvious mortification a bit too much as he had taken every opportunity to snatch the same damn seat that practically showcased you to the rest of the crowd and in turn ensured he would be able to see you at all times.

“Sallow! We’re about to gather!” Imelda screamed in the middle of the field.

“Give me a second!” He turned to you. “Please, pet?”

Damn him and those brown eyes.

Harshly, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him till he was forced to maneuver his broom sideways, face an inch from yours.

“You better not embarrass me,” you threatened, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before turning on the opposite direction, straight to the seat that had been unofficially yours. Lucky charms get special privileges after all. “I want a photo with that trophy, Sallow.”

Sebastian hovered in the air frozen, hand on his burning skin, until a ball hit him square in the back. “Today, lover boy.”

He gave Imelda an apologetic look before calling over an underclassman.

“You there, 5th year!” The boy was quick to jump out of his seat, heart hammering in his chest at the Seeker’s sudden attention. “Call over Head Boy Gaunt and tell him to make sure no one unpleasant sits in my section.”

The boy nodded, understanding. Everyone knows Sallow’s unofficial section where all his friends from different houses sit – every single one of them as intimidating as him. If he had gotten a galleon for every time a professor mentioned one of them either in praise or in warning on what not to do, he’d rival Ominis Gaunt in wealth.

Most importantly, she would be there. The lucky charm and Sallow’s dearest companion – though jury is still out whether they had been courting all this time or not.

From what he’d seen he’d bet on them getting married by graduation even with the lack of formal courting. They didn’t seem to be the type to care for convention. He had even heard suggestive rumors that they basically sleep in the same room every night, though that has yet to be proven.

“Yes, of course, Sallow!”

Sebastian watched the boy scamper down the stairs, no doubt to relay his message to his dear friend who won’t be too pleased of his misuse of Ominis’ position.

Oh well, all’s well that ends well.

He blows you one last provocative kiss as he departs the stands before he flies up to where the rest of his teammates are positioned, ready for the game to start, pleased with the fact you would be fuming from the attention his grand performance would bring.

A jealous darling would be bad luck after all.

And he had a trophy to win.

“And the Triwizard Champion is Sebastian Sallow from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, House Slytherin!”

Green confetti and fireworks exploded all over the stadium overwhelming Sebastian as he tried to catch his breath and not let his knees buckle under his weight when all the adrenaline left his body. He belatedly realized that the cold, golden trophy had been shoved in his hands not until he was lifted by fellow schoolmates up above their arms in celebration and was staring at his own gobsmacked reflection in the shiny hardware.

More familiar faces and deafening cheers accosted him as he was brought into the section where all Hogwarts students were gathered. Only when he was put back in the ground to be showered with pats, congratulations, and splashing of fizzing butterbeer did his brain finally catch up with the rest of his body.

Immediately, his head started swiveling, looking for the face he needed to see the most, his instincts screaming at him that she was near. She has to be. She promised.

From the back of the crowds – there she was. Her beaming face, humbly waving from behind as if she wasn’t the reason he had fought so hard for this victory – that it really should be in her name and it shall, for he will lay this victory on her feet, first of his many devotion for the rest of their lives.

In haste, he shoved the trophy to the nearest body, uncaring of who was able to grab it as he pushed and shoved anyone on his way to you. The rest of the world blurred. He cared not for the gasps, shrieks, or protests – not when he saw the beam in your smile as you jumped into his arms – the golden ring that was hanging off a simple chain on your neck clanged with the similar one hanging off his own when you jumped into his arms.

The wedding rings he had prepared, ready for the day the two of you turned into adults in the eyes of the law and were permitted to be married. It would be for mere formality, his heart after all had been tied to yours the moment your eyes met.

“I’m so proud of you.”

He’s never felt satisfaction as fulfilling as this moment.

Finally, he has earned it – has earned the right to say it.

“I love you.”

This love was finally his.

The papers were printed in a few days. Bold letters with a bolder headline:

Triwizard Champion and Hero of Hogwarts Secretly Betrothed!?

Right below such an accusatory headline was the photo of the two of you framed almost too perfectly in a café’s window, Sebastian pressing a kiss in the unmistakable diamond ring he had bought with his winnings while you beamed at him.

It has not been a kept secret that many noble families have vied and proposed for the heavy hand of the Hero but all were rebuffed. All but one. Sebastian Sallow, a promising orphan from a fallen house seemed to have Championed the heart of the lady just as he had conquered the challenges of the Triwizard Trials. As remarkable as it is, his distinct lack of proper lineage, colorful history of delinquency, and the whispers of his preference for obscure magic would truly prove to be a challenge he might not be able to slay quite as easily, especially for a bride as coveted as –

“I am going to fucking kill that wench!”

You slammed the newspaper on the table, making Grace choke on her tea just as Ominis winced at your colorful choice of words, quickly conjuring up a silencing charm around your table lest you make it harder for his lawyers if you actually do deliver the threat.

“I know you’re upset –”

You glare at Grace. Upset barely covers it.

Finding that you have not insulted it enough you crumble the bundle of paper in your hand, even going as far as to grab two that a couple of fourth years were reading before throwing them to the fire in a huff, screaming an Incendio on the fireplace just for the satisfaction of seeing it all turn into soot in a blink.

Ominis quickly sends an owl.

She should still be in Hogsmeade, your mind runs. You’ve heard that the unpleasant reporter had made a home in one of the apartments in Hogsmeade once the Tournament started.

It should be easy, you try to suppress your maniacal grin as you turn, marching straight into the stairs that should lead you to the nearest floo, ignoring how quickly the other students parted for you as your head ran all types of scenarios on how you can absolutely gut that waste of space. She had unfairly targeted Sebastian from the start of the games, pointing out flaws on his runs even when he had won the stage, cruelly bringing up his 'upbringing' in Feldcroft, and even bringing up how he wouldn't be able to give it his all while still grieving his twin sister and should be replaced.

That fucking wench.

You’ve had enough practice breaking and entering through the many locks in Hogsmeade to be able to sneak into her abode. A simple hex would be child’s play, maybe you should curse her to lose one finger every time she writes a bad word against your beloved or maybe a limb or you should just do the wizarding world another favor and make her illiterate.

Once you were on the grounds you summoned your broom.

The punishment should fit the crime.

“Levioso.”

Before you could fly you found yourself already levitating up the air, from below Sebastian was way too pleased at your shrieks and foul mood.

“Let me down, Sebastian!” you kicked.

“I would but I would rather we not spend our lives running away from the ministry if you kill that journalist, my love.”

So, he has read it. The fact that he was able to see those vile words made your blood boil harder. Sensing your temper and the fact that you were about to break out of his spell he plays dirty.

“Accio.”

You shriek at the speed but the comfort of his arms was almost enough to quell the itch in your hands to curse that bloody witch into a pulp.

Almost.

He tightens his hug, playfully pulling you off the ground with a grunt and swaying the two of you gently. “Still upset?”

You push your blunt nails on his back and he chuckles. “It doesn’t bother me, you know.”

“It should!” you snap, a blast of your ancient magic smashing a statue to pieces that he quickly fixes with a ‘repairo’ without so much as a glance at the shrieking fifth years that had nearly gotten blasted with it. “It bothers me.”

That they think so lowly of him – him! A man worth ten –  if not hundreds – of those pompous pricks from noble houses who offers nothing but their ‘pure’ blood and rotting riches like it was enough, like it could buy your heart and pride.

If they knew –

If they knew it was him who cleaned your blood and licked the jagged wounds in your spirit in the quiet of your lowest nights, that it was this boy who pulled out the rubble of a girl after the war – carefully piecing it together until you felt like a person and not a hollow husk filled only by nightmares, that it was this lowly orphan they sneer at who had become your chain to your sanity – your family.

Would they still look down at him if they knew it was only his kindness, and his love, and him who stopped you from giving up on them? That if someone as beautiful as him could exist in the wizarding world then it was a world worth saving.

Sebastian frowns at your upset. Ominis had grossly underestimated how the article had affected you, he would be touched if he wasn't so angry.

“It shouldn’t,” he gently carries you like a bride – his bride – under the largest tree by the Beasts Class classroom, away from the prying eyes of a crowd, overlooking the lake. The songs of the breeze and birds were the perfect soothing balm along with his soft coos. “They can write about me all they want at the end of the day it is me who is coming home with you.”

He’s sure you’re aware that his overly sweet words are all to calm you down but you fall for it anyway, smiling on the skin of his neck. “I should have her tongue.”

He shushes you, pressing his fingers on your waist till it tickled, he smiles on your hair when you slap his shoulder. “Don’t you think you’ve terrified the freshmen enough with that mouth of yours.”

It doesn’t escape you that the other students have transferred their fear of Sebastian’s murky past to your present wicker-short temper. You are aware that it is only because of your impeccable grades, immeasurable talent and a sprinkle of Fig’s legacy that the headmaster has not suspended or expelled you for your insolence.

His palms run a soothing patten on your spine, letting you continue to bury your head on the crook of his neck to lull you into a calm.

You suddenly pull yourself away, looking straight at him. “Are you sure you don’t care? I promise I won’t get caught.”

He chuckles at that, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head before leaning back on the trunk of the tree, pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t worry,” he smiled. “As long as you still plan on marrying me nothing will ever bother me at all.”

“I reckon she's calmed down?”

Sebastian doesn’t bother to mask his stormy expression now that you have fallen into a nap, sparing Ominis a glance as he sits on one of the empty wooden crates.

“I was sure I’d catch the two of you digging up a shallow grave by now.”

Sebastian glances down at you, shaking his head. “Haven't you heard? I’m a changed man.”

Ominis chuckles at that. “Well, their vile words shouldn’t matter anyhow,” Ominis sighs, grateful at least that this betrothal had managed to calm at least one of his dearest friends down. “She’s yours now.”

The boy’s words made Sebastian think.

Think back to the first time he met you: the curiosity, the anticipation, the instant tug on his soul the first time your voice had pulled him out of his own head and you stood in front of him while the growing foreboding feeling that meeting in that room, in front of the fire was meant to be, bloomed in his chest.

He was young enough not to recognize love for what it was but not stupid enough to not act upon it. Monopolizing you and your attention, wrapping his being around you until people could no longer separate the two of you as individuals, guarding his precious hoard ferociously from wolves and thieves until he grew into the man who could claim it.

She’s yours now.

When he really, really, thinks about it, it almost makes him laugh. He always thought he'd lead a simple life. Get a decent job, marry a modest girl, and settle down into a humble life. Grand delusions weren't for him, that was more Anne's forte and he wasn't destined for a greater purpose, that was for Ominis.

And he was satisfied with that, honestly and truly thankful for it. He thrived in the shadows, after all.

But he met you and damned himself by falling in love with the one person he shouldn't have -- the one person he could never deserve even if he lived the rest of his life as a saint.

He loved a grand adventure personified and in a lickety-split threw away all of his dreams of a quiet life -- jumping straight into a den of goblins and trolls and certain death. Hit the ground running in a race between bachelors to get to you, to earn the honor of deserving your love. And even mercilessly overwhelmed any contender to your hand until it was uncontested that it was only him who could stand beside you.

It was only he who earned it.

She’s yours now.

In quiet moments he sometimes couldn't quite believe just what happened to his life in two years.

Because he never thought he'd fall in love with a brilliant witch vied by the world or that, out of all hands stretched out to her, she would hold his, that she would love him back.

She’s yours now.

Sebastian would beg to disagree.

It was fate. (He made it so.)

It was written. (He rewrote it.)

She’s always been mine.

[slytherinzz]

Sebastian Sallow:

“Rules? What rules? I consider them more like… guidelines with room for interpretation.”

“I’m not saying this was my best idea… but it is my most entertaining one so far.”

“Oh, come on! A little curse here and there builds character. You’ll thank me later.”

“I’d like to think I’m a perfect mix of charm, intellect, and just a dash of poor decision-making.”

“Listen, if you’re going to get in trouble, at least make it worth the detention. Trust me, I’m an expert.”

Ominis Gaunt

“You can’t see me rolling my eyes, but trust me, it’s happening.”

“Sebastian, if your brilliant plan involves me getting hexed again, I’m officially out.”

“Some families pass down heirlooms. Mine passes down generational trauma. But sure, let’s talk about my upbringing.”

“Just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t tell you’re about to do something stupid. Stop it.”

“I don’t ‘hate’ people, Sebastian. I simply find the vast majority of them exhausting.