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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 2 months ago

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Snowbound | Sebastian Sallow x OC #14

Summary: Evangeline and Sebastian return to Hogwarts for the second term of Sixth Year. Evangeline finds her courtship with Lysander increasingly stressful, causing her to find comfort in Sebastian. One night, in an attempt to get her mind off things, Sebastian convinces her to explore an abandoned mine shaft with him.

Words: 11,238

Tags: Slow Burn, Unspoken Feelings, Friends To Lovers, Jealousy, Romantic Tension, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Trapped Together, Adventure, Winter Storm

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The Gryffindor table in the Great Hall was alive with chatter that evening as students swapped stories about their holidays and tucked into dinner. Evangeline sat quietly among them, half-listening to her friends as she idly pushed her roasted potatoes around her plate.

Garreth and Cressida were locked in a spirited debate about the best way to charm treacle tart to sing, while Natty and Leander exchanged exaggerated accounts of their holiday adventures—Leander claimed he’d wrestled a rogue gnome off his grandmother’s prized herb garden, while Natty, rolling her eyes, recounted a much more grounded tale of helping her family restore a neighbours cottage after a storm.

To Evangeline, the hum of the Great Hall felt oddly distant. Her mind kept slipping back to the Floo in Feldcroft where Sebastian had seen her off earlier that day. “Back to the grind, Sterling,” he had teased, brushing a bit of snow from her shoulder.

Her holiday with Sebastian had been so full—of laughter, mischief, and moments that felt impossibly fleeting. The thought of returning to separate routines, of putting distance back where it didn’t belong, left her feeling untethered. She told herself it was normal to feel a little off after the break, especially with the unusual secret they now shared. No one could know they’d spent Christmas together in Feldcroft, least of all Lysander. So they'd returned to school separately, with her taking a carriage and him the Floo, careful not to raise suspicion.

It all felt so vivid, so tangible, even now hours later. It was jarring, sitting here with her housemates, trying to reintegrate herself into the world of Gryffindor when part of her was still caught in the snow-dusted quiet of their holiday together.

“Evie!” Garreth’s voice snapped her from her thoughts. “What about you? Did you do anything interesting over the break?”

She blinked, her fork clattering lightly against her plate as she looked up. “Oh, um... nothing too exciting,” she said quickly, her voice betraying none of the actual thrill her holiday had held. “Just... stayed cozy. You know how it is.”

Cressida smiled, raising a brow. “That's all? I expected you to have stories about hunting down Goblins or exploring the highlands.”

Evangeline forced a chuckle, lifting her goblet as if to hide her discomfort. “Even I need a bit of quiet now and then.”

A faint warmth crept up her neck as she felt a familiar gaze on her. She risked a glance toward the Slytherin table, her breath hitching slightly when she caught Sebastian watching her. He was leaned back casually, his dark eyes gleaming with a knowing look. When their gazes met, the corner of his mouth curved into a smirk, so fleeting it might have been imagined.

Her heart stuttered, and she quickly looked away, though the faintest smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it.

“What’s that grin about?” Cressida asked, leaning in with a teasing glint in her eye. “Got some secret we should know about?”

“Not at all,” Evangeline replied smoothly, though she hoped her flushed cheeks weren’t betraying her. She turned back to her plate, praying the conversation would move on before anyone pressed further.

The reprieve didn’t last long. A figure approached from behind, and when she looked up, her heart sank slightly. Lysander stood beside her, his ever-polished demeanor intact as he greeted her with a warm smile.

“Evangeline.”

The sound of his voice made her stiffen, though she quickly masked the reaction with a smile. He looked the same as ever, polished and composed, his blond hair neatly combed and his robes impeccable. His family’s pure-blood prestige seemed to radiate from him, effortlessly commanding attention without trying.

“Lysander,” she greeted warmly, setting her mug down as he took a seat beside her. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” he replied, his tone perfectly measured. “How was your holiday?”

“It was nice,” she said, careful to keep her answer vague. “Quiet, mostly. And yours?”

“Busy,” he admitted, leaning back with an air of practiced ease. “My parents had me meeting half the Wizengamot at our family gathering. Apparently, they think it’s never too early to build connections.”

Evangeline offered a polite laugh, though the thought of spending her break surrounded by such stifling formality made her chest tighten. “Sounds... productive.”

“It was,” he agreed, smiling as though pleased with himself. “But I missed you. Your letters were the highlight of my holiday.”

Her smile faltered slightly, though she quickly recovered, nodding as she picked up her mug of cocoa to avoid his gaze. She’d written to him dutifully, of course, careful to keep the tone warm and affectionate. But each letter had felt more like a performance than a genuine expression of herself, her words chosen carefully to meet the expectations she imagined he had.

“And yours were lovely to read,” she said, the response automatic. She felt his hand rest lightly on hers, and though the gesture was meant to be reassuring, it only reminded her of how different it felt from the warmth she’d come to associate with Sebastian.

“You look... well,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze flicked over her. “I was worried you might be overworking yourself again.”

Her grip on the mug tightened slightly. She knew what he meant, though he hadn’t said it outright. Evie was well aware that her robes were fitting a bit more snuggly after the holiday, and though Lysander didn’t seem unkind about it, the subtle shift in his expression made her stomach tighten into a knot.

“I made plenty of time to relax,” she said lightly, though the comment left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“That’s good to hear,” Lysander said, squeezing her hand gently. “You’ll need your energy for this term. I’m sure it will be a busy one for both of us.”

She nodded, offering another polite smile as her gaze flicked past him toward the where Sebastian was seated. He was laughing at something Ominis had said, his grin wide and unguarded in a way that made her heart ache. He caught her eye for the briefest moment, and the corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk that felt like a secret just for her.

“Evangeline?” Lysander’s voice pulled her back, and she turned her attention to him, schooling her expression into one of polite interest.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was just asking if you’d like to study together this week,” he said, his tone as steady and composed as ever. “I thought maybe you'd like some help with that Potions project you have... Professor Sharp’s grading is always brutal.”

“Of course,” she said quickly, nodding. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Lysander smiled, his grip on her hand relaxing as he leaned back in his chair. But as he launched into a discussion about their coursework, Evangeline found herself nodding absently, her thoughts drifting once more to the boy who sat just out of reach, his laughter still echoing faintly in her mind.

The weeks following the winter break passed in a steady rhythm of classes, study sessions, and Quidditch practices, but a quiet tension had begun to creep into Evangeline’s life—a slow-building unease that became harder to ignore.

At the heart of it was her courtship with Lysander. His world was one of structure and expectation, a life polished and pristine, steeped in the traditions of pure-blood society. At first, she’d tried to meet these moments with grace. During their study sessions, when he spoke of his family’s plans or their potential future with quiet optimism, she’d nodded along, offering the responses she thought he wanted to hear. Yet, the more time they spent together, the more she felt the weight of his unspoken expectations pressing down on her.

Every glance from him seemed to carry a standard she couldn’t quite define but felt compelled to meet. His words, though kind, hinted at a future that felt predetermined, a path carefully paved for her to follow. With him, she felt like a guest in someone else’s story, always mindful of where to step, never certain if she truly belonged.

Her unease deepened during her invitations to the Clearwater family estate for Sunday dinner. The grandeur of the manor, the lavish meals, and the formal conversations left her feeling overwhelmed, like she was being carefully measured against a set of unspoken rules. At the Solstice Ball, the Clearwaters had been welcoming—warm, even—making her feel, at least briefly, like she could fit into their world. But now, that warmth had cooled into polite formality.

Mrs. Clearwater’s questions about her future plans seemed harmless on the surface but carried an undercurrent of scrutiny that made Evangeline’s stomach twist. “And have you given much thought to what comes after Hogwarts?” Mrs. Clearwater had asked during one such dinner, her voice perfectly measured but her eyes sharp.

“I’ve been considering curse-breaking,” Evangeline had replied carefully, keeping her tone steady. “Or maybe becoming an Auror.”

The room had grown quiet, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting in the silverware as Mrs. Clearwater raised a brow. “How… adventurous,” she’d said, her smile tight. “I imagine such pursuits are not without their dangers.”

“That’s part of the appeal,” Evangeline had said with a small, polite smile, though the edge of defiance in her tone hadn’t been entirely disguised.

“Indeed,” Mr. Clearwater had interjected, swirling his wine lazily. “Our family has always valued pursuits that contribute to stability and legacy. Aurors do important work, of course, but such a path can be… turbulent.”

Lysander, seated beside her, had smiled faintly but said nothing, leaving her to carry the weight of the conversation. Each visit to the estate made her feel more like a piece on a chessboard, maneuvered to fit into a strategy she didn’t fully understand.

And then there was her weight.

It was only now, after months of regaining her appetite that her body had returned to its natural shape, with the holiday indulgences only helping her reclaim what she had lost during the previous summer. She had spent those months grieving, barely eating, and losing herself in a way that had left her drained and hollow. She’d felt like a ghost of herself then, struggling to piece together her shattered world. Now, after the warmth of the Christmas holiday and the comfort of being around Sebastian, she felt like herself again—stronger, healthier.

But not everyone saw it that way.

Though Lysander never addressed it directly, the quiet tension in his gaze when he looked at her lingered. She felt it in the way his arm would tighten around her waist, or in the beat of hesitation before he offered his hand. At the Clearwater estate, the scrutiny felt even sharper, every glance from Mrs. Clearwater making her hyper-aware of her appearance. Though no one said anything outright, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her natural size, her curves that had returned with her health, were quietly disapproved of.

So Evangeline caught herself pulling away, retreating into the safety of her friends whenever the pressure became too much. More often than not, that solace came in the form of Sebastian.

With him, there were no carefully crafted conversations, no delicate negotiations or expectations. His teasing remarks and unguarded grins reminded her of a simpler kind of companionship, one that didn’t feel so heavy. With him, she could laugh freely, let her guard down, and simply be.

But even that escape was complicated. Since their return to Hogwarts, Sebastian had grown bolder. His tactile nature had always been part of who he was, but now there was something different—an ease in the way he touched her, as if whatever boundaries had existed between them before the holiday had melted away entirely.

He had developed a habit of slipping up behind her during study sessions, his hands resting on the back of her chair as he leaned in close to murmur something teasing in her ear. His voice, low and warm, never failed to send a shiver up her spine, and his scent seemed to wrap around her like a second skin. She found herself leaning into his presence without meaning to, her pulse quickening whenever his proximity became too much.

And then there was his new favorite habit—resting his chin on the crown of her head. The first time it had happened, over breakfast in the Great Hall, she’d been so startled she’d nearly spilled her tea. He’d leaned over, so casually, to murmur something about the honeyed toast, his chin brushing against her hair as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Now, he did it without a second thought, whether they were studying in the library, practicing spells in the Undercroft, or simply walking across the grounds. Their friends noticed, of course, though most of them seemed more amused than anything else.

“You two are insufferable,” Garreth had muttered one afternoon as they sat in the Undercroft, books spread out around them. He’d watched with raised brows as Sebastian, mid-conversation, had leaned over and settled his chin on Evangeline’s head. “It’s like watching an old married couple.”

Sebastian smirked, entirely unfazed. “Jealous, Weasley?”

“Hardly,” Garreth shot back, tossing a crumpled scrap of parchment at him. “Just wondering when Lysander’s going to notice and hex you.”

Evangeline’s cheeks had burned as she ducked her head, pretending to be engrossed in her notes. But she couldn’t ignore the way her heart raced, the way Sebastian’s presence had begun to feel so natural, so… right.

And that was the problem. His gestures—so casual, so comfortable—blurred the lines she was desperate to keep clear. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way about Sebastian, not while she was still tied to Lysander. But as the days passed, the weight of her courtship and the comfort of Sebastian’s presence became harder to reconcile.

“You alright?” Sebastian’s voice was soft, his hand brushing lightly against her shoulder as he straightened, his gaze steady and searching.

“Fine,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just trying to focus.”

He watched her for a moment longer, as if debating whether to press, before leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated groan. “Alright, I’ll stop distracting you,” he said, though the grin tugging at his lips suggested otherwise.

She tried to focus on her notes, tried to ignore the flutter in her chest, but the truth was, Sebastian’s proximity had become its own kind of distraction. And she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to escape it.

One evening, after enduring yet another perfectly, unbearably polite dinner with Lysander in the Great Hall, Evangeline felt the weight of his conversation pressing on her. Every word had been measured, every gesture deliberate, as if their interaction had been rehearsed and refined long before they sat down. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly—Lysander was always courteous, always composed—but it left her feeling as though she were walking a tightrope.

When the meal ended and Lysander excused himself to speak with one of his Ravenclaw friends, Evangeline offered a faint smile and murmured her own goodnight. She didn’t head to the Gryffindor common room or the library, as she might have on another evening. Instead, her feet carried her in a familiar direction, her steps quickening as the need for solitude—or perhaps something else entirely—tugged at her.

She didn’t even think twice about where she was going. Her mind was already set before she’d even left the hall.

The path to the Undercroft was etched into her memory now, a route she could take blindfolded. The air grew cooler as she descended the narrow staircase, the faint hum of the castle above fading into silence. Her fingers brushed against the stone wall as she reached the entrance, her hand pausing briefly over the hidden mechanism that unlocked the door. She hesitated—not because she doubted herself, but because she already knew who she’d find inside.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing the familiar, dimly lit space. The sight of him was like a balm she hadn’t realized she needed. His hair was slightly disheveled, his shirt sleeves rolled up, as he sprawled on one of the couches, twirling his wand idly in his hand as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t seem surprised when she entered, though his grin widened as he sat up. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“Shut it, Sallow,” she muttered, though her lips twitched with a smile as she dropped her bag onto the floor.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp with curiosity. He scooted over, patting the space beside him.

She hesitated for only a moment before sitting, her hands twisting in her lap. “I just… needed some air,” she said vaguely.

Sebastian raised a brow but didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back, his shoulder brushing hers in a way that felt entirely too familiar. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. The Undercroft has the best ‘air’ in all of Hogwarts. Stale, musty, a bit damp."

His teasing pulled a reluctant laugh from her, and she glanced at him, her shoulders loosening just slightly. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he said, though his smirk softened. “What’s really bothering you?”

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I don’t know… it’s just… everything feels so heavy lately.”

Sebastian’s expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something quieter. "What do you mean?"

She didn’t answer right away, and the silence stretched between them. Then, finally, she sighed, glancing sideways at him. "You promise you won't give me an 'I told you so' speech if I tell you?" she asked, her voice soft, hesitant.

Sebastian tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching with restrained amusement. “I make no promises,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. “But I’ll try to resist. Scout’s honour.”

Evangeline huffed a soft laugh, rolling her eyes. “You were never a Scout. But I'm serious Sebastian, if I tell you, you can't make a big fuss."

He sobered slightly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze steady and focused on her. “Alright, no ‘I told you so.’ Now, what’s on your mind?”

Evangeline stared at her hands for a long moment, as if the answer might appear there. “I feel like… like I’m constantly walking on eggshells,” she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“It’s not just Lysander,” she went on, her voice gaining a little strength. “It’s his world. His family. The way they look at me like I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m just… not enough.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw, and Sebastian’s heart twisted at the vulnerability in her voice. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, his usual arsenal of wit and sarcasm feeling woefully inadequate. So instead, he shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against hers in quiet solidarity. "You shouldn't need to be anything except yourself."

“That’s easy for you to say,” she replied, her tone sharper than she intended. “You’re not the one who has to meet his family’s expectations, who has to look a certain way or act a certain way just to fit in.”

Sebastian was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he watched her. “Is that really how he makes you feel?” he asked quietly.

Evangeline bit her lip, the weight of his gaze making it harder to keep her emotions in check. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s... everything about his life feels so… polished. Like there’s no room for someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” Sebastian repeated, his tone incredulous. “Evie, you’re better than polished. If he can’t see that, then he’s a bloody idiot.”

She glanced at him, startled by the vehemence in his voice. “It’s not that simple,” she murmured, “He’s not a bad person, Sebastian. He’s just… different from me.”

“Different?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

Evangeline hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s… perfect,” she said finally, her voice tinged with frustration. “Polished and poised, like he’s never put a foot wrong in his life. I feel like I’m always trying to measure up. Be enough. Be... who he expects me to be.”

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady as he watched her. Then, with a faint smirk, he leaned closer, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin lightly on the crown of her head. The gesture was so familiar now, so undeniably him, that she couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, the sound muffled against the weight of his presence.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re terrible at being perfect,” he murmured, his voice warm and teasing. “Wouldn’t suit you at all, anyway.”

Evangeline huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "Wow, thanks."

Sebastian chuckled, his arms tightening around her ever so slightly as if to ground her in the moment. "I mean it," he said softly, his teasing lilt giving way to something more genuine. "You’re not perfect, Evie. And that’s what makes you… well, you. You’re stubborn, reckless, you’ve got this knack for getting yourself into trouble. But you’re also kind, brave, and more loyal than anyone I’ve ever met. That’s what matters—not whatever nonsense Lysander or his family thinks you need to be."

His words settled over her, warm and disarming. She wanted to brush them off, to keep herself guarded, but the sincerity in his tone left her defenseless. Evangeline tilted her head back slightly, her hazel eyes meeting his. "Can you go on over there and tell them that for me?"

Sebastian’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and something softer. “I could, but I’m not sure they’d appreciate my… unique approach to persuasion.” Then his tone shifted, softening as he continued, “And I don't think changing their minds is the solution. Maybe it’s that you’re wasting your time trying to meet expectations that aren’t worth meeting.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of his statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” he said, leaning back slightly, though his gaze never left hers, “why bother bending over backward to fit into their perfect little box? If they can’t see how amazing you are as you are, that’s on them. Not you.”

Evangeline’s brow furrowed as she looked away, her fingers twisting in her lap. “If I don’t at least try—if I don’t meet their expectations—then what’s the point of this whole courtship?”

“Maybe there isn’t a point,” he said lightly, though his words carried an edge. When she glanced at him sharply, he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, maybe that’s too harsh. What I’m trying to say is, you shouldn’t have to force yourself to be someone you’re not just to make them happy. You deserve better than that.”

Her chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond, the weight of her doubts and guilt tangling with the quiet hope his words stirred in her.

Sebastian, sensing her hesitation, let the moment linger before breaking the tension with a crooked grin. “You know what I think you need?” he asked, his voice dipping into a teasing lilt.

“What?” she asked warily, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Mischief,” he said with a grin, his tone playful but his eyes warm. “Nothing gets your mind off things like a bit of trouble.”

Evangeline groaned, rolling her eyes even as the corners of her lips tugged upward. “Oh, brilliant. Because what I really need right now is to land in detention.”

“I’m serious,” Sebastian said, nudging her shoulder with his. “Well, mostly. You’ve been wound up tighter than Ominis during exams. You need to let loose. Just for a little while.”

“And you think your idea of letting loose is the solution?” she asked, arching a brow.

“It’s a solution,” Sebastian quipped, his tone light as he leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Come on, what’s the worst that could happen? You get detention, and I have someone to keep me company next time I’m stuck scrubbing cauldrons.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re so selfless. Truly.” She groaned, already questioning her decision, but the spark of excitement in his expression was contagious. “What exactly do you have in mind?” she asked warily.

“Well,” he began, tapping his chin in mock thought, “I did overhear someone mentioning something about an old mine shaft near Brocburrow that’s rumored to be cursed. Apparently, no one’s been able to keep a light spell lit in there for more than a few seconds.”

Evangeline crossed her arms, staring at him incredulously. “A cursed mine shaft, Sebastian? Are you trying to get us killed?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, the picture of unbothered confidence. “You’ve faced worse than a bit of dodgy magic. Ancient goblin relics, angry trolls, even Ominis when he hasn’t had his morning tea.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “And here I thought you’d suggest sneaking into Honeydukes or some harmless bit of mischief, not leading me into some potentially haunted death trap.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, standing and offering her his hand. “Come on, Sterling. What’s life without a little danger?”

She stared at his outstretched hand, her expression torn between exasperation and reluctant amusement.

Evangeline let out a long, suffering sigh, but her smile gave her away. “If we get caught or cursed, I’m blaming you. Forever.”

“Noted,” Sebastian said with a grin, pulling her to her feet. “Now, let’s go before you start having second thoughts.”

The Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower was quiet as they slipped out of the Undercroft. Evangeline followed Sebastian’s lead, her footsteps soft against the cold stone.

After sneakily grabbing their coats and gloves from their dorms, they met up by a small alcove that housed one of the less conspicuous Floo stations. Sebastian turned to her, his expression a mix of mischief and excitement. “Ladies first?”

She huffed, stepping into the fireplace with an exaggerated sigh. “If I end up in some stranger’s sitting room, I’m hexing you.”

“You won't,” he reassured her with a chuckle, handing her a small pouch of Floo powder. “Brocburrow, southern clearing. Don’t forget to enunciate.”

Evangeline shot him a mock glare before tossing the powder into the hearth. The flames roared to life, swirling green as she stepped into them. “Brocburrow, southern clearing,” she said clearly, the magic pulling her forward in a rush of heat and spinning light.

When she landed, the crisp night air hit her immediately, a stark contrast to the warmth of the castle. She stumbled slightly, catching herself against a tree as she adjusted to the sudden cold. The forest around her was quiet, the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl the only sounds breaking the stillness.

Moments later, Sebastian appeared beside her, stepping gracefully out of the Floo as though he’d done it a hundred times before—which, she supposed, he probably had.

“Welcome to Brocburrow,” he said, brushing off his robes with a dramatic flourish.

Evangeline raised a brow, shivering slightly as she pulled her cloak tighter around her. “Lead the way, oh fearless leader.”

Sebastian grinned, holding up his wand for light. The path was uneven, the snow crunching under their boots as they navigated the rugged terrain. His wand cast a warm glow, the light reflecting off the frost-covered trees.

“Alright,” she said after a few minutes of silence, glancing at him. “Tell me more about this cursed mine shaft. Why hasn’t anyone been able to keep a light spell going?”

“No idea,” Sebastian admitted, his tone far too casual. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

Evangeline stopped, planting her hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me you dragged me out here past curfew and you don’t know what we’re walking into?”

“It wouldn't be the first time,” he replied with a smirk, nudging her forward. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but resumed walking, muttering under her breath.

As they climbed higher into the mountains, the forest began to thin, the dense trees giving way to jagged rocks and patches of frozen ground. The air grew colder, biting at her cheeks and nose, and Evangeline found herself walking closer to Sebastian, drawn instinctively toward his warmth. Shivering slightly, Evangeline plunged her hands into her pockets, searching for a bit of warmth. Her fingers brushed against something soft, and she froze, pulling it out slowly.

A scarf.

Not just any scarf—it was Sebastian’s. The dark green wool was unmistakable, fraying slightly at the edges in a way that gave it a lived-in charm. She recognized it instantly as the one she’d borrowed during Christmas in Feldcroft. Her cheeks warmed at the memory.

“What’s that?” Sebastian’s voice broke through her thoughts, his tone curious. He’d stopped a few steps ahead, his wand casting a soft glow over his face as he turned to look at her.

Evangeline hesitated, glancing down at the scarf in her hands. Then, without answering, she looped the scarf around her neck. The wool was warm, a faint cedar-and-parchment scent clinging to the fabric.

Sebastian’s lips curved into a slow smirk as he watched her. “Is that mine?”

“It’s warm,” she said defensively, lifting her chin as if daring him to comment further.

"You trying to collect one from every house or something?" he asked, his tone light and teasing, though there was a faint edge beneath it. His gaze flicked to the dark green scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, "You’ve got Gryffindor and Ravenclaw covered, clearly. Now Slytherin. What’s next? Planning to nick a Hufflepuff scarf too?”

"Ravenclaw?" Evangeline echoed in confusion, her brows knitting together as she glanced at him. “What are you talking about?”

Sebastian arched a brow, “Clearwater. Don’t tell me he hasn’t showered you with perfectly folded scarves or pristine handkerchiefs."

Evangeline blinked, caught off guard by the remark. She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, shaking her head, "No, I... I don't have anything like that of his."

Sebastian’s expression shifted, the teasing edge fading for a moment as he studied her. “Oh,” he said softly, almost as if the admission surprised him. He glanced away, his breath visible in the crisp night air. “Well then I suppose Lysander isn’t the sentimental type.”

Evangeline hesitated, unsure how to respond. “It’s not like that,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “He’s… thoughtful in his own way.”

Sebastian hummed, a noncommittal sound, as he fell into step beside her. His gaze flicked to the scarf around her neck again, and his lips quirked into a small, almost wistful smile. “So, what you’re saying is, I’m the only one whose things you hold onto.”

She rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming under his scrutiny. “I didn’t hold onto it. I forgot to give it back after the holiday.”

“Right,” he drawled, the smirk returning to his face. "It's just an accident it was in your pocket this whole time."

“I didn’t mean to keep it,” she retorted, pulling the scarf tighter around her neck in defiance. “It’s just… comfortable.”

“And warm,” he added helpfully, his tone laced with amusement.

“And warm,” she echoed, her tone pointed as she shot him a glare.

Sebastian chuckled, clearly enjoying himself as he nudged her shoulder lightly. “Relax, Sterling. I’m not asking for it back. Honestly, it suits you better than it ever suited me.”

The comment caught her off guard, and for a moment, she faltered, her steps slowing. There was no teasing in his voice this time, only a quiet sincerity that left her feeling strangely unsteady. “Thanks,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the snow-dusted path ahead of them.

Sebastian said nothing for a while, letting the silence settle between them. Then, with a mischievous grin, he added, “But seriously, if I see you with a Hufflepuff scarf next, we’re going to have a problem.”

Evangeline huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "Alright, Sallow."

By now, they were high into the rocky terrain, and the air had grown sharper, colder, while a light snowfall began to drift from the darkened sky, decreasing their visibility with every step.

The wind picked up, carrying with it a faint howl that echoed off the jagged cliffs. She squinted into the swirling snow ahead, her steps slowing. “Do you think we’re close?” Evangeline asked, her voice slightly muffled by the scarf.

Sebastian stopped just ahead of her, his wand raised to cast a soft glow over their path. He scanned the area, his brow furrowing as he peered through the falling snow. “Should be… there.” He pointed, his voice confident despite the uncertain terrain.

Evangeline followed his gaze, and sure enough, the dark, jagged mouth of a cave loomed just ahead, half-hidden behind a rocky outcrop. The snowfall made it look almost spectral, the entrance yawning wide like the gaping maw of some forgotten creature.

“Well,” she said, her voice light in an attempt to mask her unease. “That definitely looks… welcoming.”

Evangeline hesitated as they reached the mouth of the cave, the air inside still and heavy. The wind whistled faintly through the entrance, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic.

Sebastian turned to her, his expression a mix of excitement and mischief. “Ready?”

She glanced at the darkened cavern, then back at him, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Define ‘ready.’”

“Too late to back out now,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice as he stepped forward, his wand lighting the way. The faint crunch of his boots on the stone floor echoed softly as he moved deeper inside.

Evangeline took a deep breath, steeling herself before following. The cave swallowed her in its shadowed embrace, the sounds of the outside world quickly muffled by the enclosing stone. She tightened her grip on her wand, her light mingling with Sebastian’s ahead as they ventured deeper into the mine.

The walls glistened faintly in places, streaked with frost that caught the light like shards of glass. Evangeline’s footsteps echoed against the stone, and she shivered, more from the strange, oppressive air than the cold. “So, what exactly are we looking for?” she asked, her voice hushed as though speaking too loudly might disturb whatever lay within. “Ghostly miners? Cursed tools? A giant, man-eating spider?”

“Hopefully all three,” Sebastian quipped, glancing back at her with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want this trip to be boring.”

She rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips despite the unease curling in her chest. Before she could reply, though, the light from Sebastian's wand flickered once, twice, before sputtering out completely, plunging them into sudden darkness. The silence was suffocating, the oppressive blackness swallowing everything in its wake.

"Sebastian..." Evangeline instinctively reached for him, her hand finding his bicep as as the darkness pressed in around them. Her voice was taut, edged with unease, and the slight tremor in her grip betrayed her composure.

“It’s alright,” Sebastian said quickly, his voice steady but lower than usual, as though wary of disturbing the silence. “Hang on. Let me get it back.” He shifted slightly, and she could hear him fumbling with his wand. “Lumos!”

Nothing.

Sebastian swore under his breath, his calm demeanor slipping just enough for Evangeline to catch it. “Lumos!” he tried again, his voice sharper, but the wand remained stubbornly dark.

Evangeline swallowed hard, her other hand instinctively gripping her own wand. “Lumos Maxima,” she murmured, willing the spell to work, but her wand only flickered faintly before going dark again.

“Well, I guess the rumors are true,” Sebastian muttered, his tone attempting levity but falling short.

“Apparently” Evangeline hissed, her heart pounding as her grip on his arm tightened. The darkness was absolute, an oppressive void that made it impossible to discern up from down. It felt alive, pulsing faintly around them, and it was all she could do not to imagine something lurking just out of reach.

Evangeline inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. Her fingers brushed against the satchel slung across her body, the familiar leather strap grounding her. And then she remembered.

“The lantern,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence with a hint of hope.

“What?” Sebastian’s head turned toward her, though she couldn’t see him in the suffocating dark.

“The lantern,” she repeated, her hands moving quickly to open the satchel. “I put one in the satchel you gave me for Christmas. If the satchel's charm still works, then we'll just need some sparks can light it.”

Sebastian let out a low, impressed hum, his tone tinged with relief. “Leave it to you to come prepared. I knew that satchel would come in handy.”

“Thank Merlin for Christmas presents,” she muttered, relieved as she dug her hand into the bag, quickly finding and pulling the lantern free.

Sebastian shifted beside her, close enough now that she could feel the faint warmth of him. “What do you need from me?”

“Sparks,” Evangeline said, her voice steadier now. “Just enough to catch the wick. But no setting me on fire.”

Sebastian chuckled, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “You act like I’m not a professional. Fire is my specialty.”

Evangeline knelt carefully, balancing the lantern on the uneven ground between them. She adjusted the wick with deliberate precision, tilting the lantern slightly to make it easier for the flame to take hold. “Alright,” she murmured. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Sebastian crouched beside her, and she felt the faint brush of his hand near hers as he aimed his wand.

Sebastian muttered Incendio his breath, his wand tip sparking faintly for a brief moment—then nothing. The darkness swallowed the effort almost instantly, leaving them once again in stifling black.

“Well, that’s… annoying,” Sebastian muttered, his tone laced with frustration. He adjusted his grip on his wand, aiming again. “Hold tight. Let me try that again.”

Evangeline held her breath, steadying the lantern with both hands as he crouched lower beside her. Sebastian's arm brushed against hers as he shifted, and she could feel the faint warmth of him despite the damp chill of the cave. With a determined flick of his wrist, he muttered the spell again. This time, the sparks were brighter, more numerous, and one landed perfectly on the lantern's wick.

A sudden, warm glow flared to life, spilling golden light over the space around them. Evangeline adjusted the lantern carefully, steadying the flame as its glow chased the oppressive blackness into retreat. Relief coursed through her, loosening the tight knot of tension in her chest.

Sebastian leaned back on his heels, letting out a low chuckle. “Told you I’d get it."

Evangeline rolled her eyes then lifted the lantern higher, the light reaching farther into the cavern. “Now, let’s see what we’re dea—”

Her words faltered, her voice catching in her throat as the light revealed what lay just ahead. Barely a yard or two away from where they knelt, the ground gave way to an enormous, gaping pit. The edges were jagged and uneven, the faint gleam of frost along the stone casting an almost surreal glow in the lantern’s light. The air around it felt heavier, thicker, as though the darkness itself were alive and waiting to pull them in.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Evangeline held the lantern out over the abyss, the faint light from the lantern revealing the extent of the vast expanse, the bottom shrouded in shadow. A faint hum seemed to emanate from the depths, low and unsettling, like a heartbeat echoing in the cavern.

"Holy fuck," She muttered.

Sebastian’s head snapped toward her, his brow arching in mild surprise despite the tension in the air. “Well, now I know it’s bad,” he said, his voice a mix of grim humour and seriousness. “You only break out the Muggle swearing when things are really dire.”

Evangeline shot him a sharp look, her knuckles still white around the lantern’s handle. “I think this qualifies,” she said, her tone brittle. Her hazel eyes remained fixed on the pit, the lantern’s flickering light barely making a dent in the oppressive void below.

Sebastian’s grin faded instantly as his gaze followed hers, his expression hardening into something sharp and alert. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, rising slowly to his feet. His eyes remained fixed on the pit, and for a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the discovery settling over them like a physical thing.

Evangeline clutched the lantern so tightly that her fingers ached. Her pulse raced as she took an involuntary step back, her breath shallow. “If we hadn’t lit the lantern…” she began, her voice barely audible, but the rest of the sentence refused to form. She didn’t need to say it—both of them knew how close they’d come to stepping over the edge.

Sebastian’s expression darkened, his usual easy confidence replaced by something more wary. “It's a trap,” he muttered, “The darkness, the way the pit’s hidden—it’s meant to lure people in. To keep them from seeing what’s right in front of them.”

She shivered, and not just from the cold. The air near the pit felt heavier, charged with an unseen energy that made her skin prickle. “Why would someone set a trap like this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian’s gaze remained fixed on the pit, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. “Could be a lot of reasons,” he said, his tone edged with tension. “To guard something. To get rid of unwanted visitors. Or maybe…” He hesitated, his voice trailing off as his eyes narrowed.

“Maybe what?” Evangeline pressed, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs.

He glanced at her, his brown eyes serious. “Maybe it’s not meant to keep people out. Maybe it’s meant to keep something in.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous, and Evangeline’s breath hitched as her gaze darted back to the pit. The faint hum emanating from its depths seemed louder now, more insistent, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them.

He turned his head toward Evangeline, his eyes meeting hers. The unspoken understanding passed between them, as tangible as the heavy air in the cavern: this was far beyond what they’d expected. This wasn’t just a bit of mischief, a simple late-night adventure—it was something far darker, far more dangerous.

“This is…” Evangeline began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to put her thoughts into words.

“More than we signed up for,” Sebastian finished, his tone grim but steady. His usual bravado was replaced by a quiet seriousness that made her chest tighten. He glanced back at the pit, the faint hum from its depths resonating in the silence. “We’re not prepared for this. Not tonight.”

Evangeline nodded, relief and unease battling within her. “We need a plan. Supplies. Something more than…” She gestured vaguely to the lantern and their wands. “...this.”

Sebastian straightened, stepping away from the edge with deliberate care. “Agreed. Let’s get out of here before whatever’s down there decides it’s had enough waiting.”

Evangeline tightened her grip on the lantern, her pulse still racing as she followed him toward the entrance. The faint glow from the lantern illuminated their path, the oppressive darkness receding reluctantly as if reluctant to let them go.

As they neared the mouth of the cavern, the sound of the wind outside grew louder, a low, eerie howl that sent a chill down her spine. When they finally reached the opening, they stopped short, their breath catching at the sight before them.

The gentle snowfall from earlier had transformed into a full-blown blizzard. Snow whipped violently through the air, the howling wind carrying icy daggers that stung their skin even from within the shelter of the cave. The world outside was a swirling vortex of white, visibility reduced to mere feet.

Sebastian cursed under his breath, peering into the storm. “Brilliant.”

Evangeline huddled closer to the lantern, the cold biting through her coat. “We can’t walk back in that,” she said, her voice trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the storm. “We’ll get lost.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his sharp mind clearly working through their options. “We’ll have to wait it out,” he said finally, his tone reluctant but resolute. He glanced around the cavern, his eyes narrowing as he assessed their surroundings. “At least we’ve got shelter. It’s better than freezing to death out there.”

Evangeline frowned, shifting her weight uneasily. The idea of staying in the cavern—so close to the pit, with its ominous hum and oppressive energy—was far from comforting. But she couldn’t deny the reality of their situation. “How long do you think it’ll last?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“Hard to say,” Sebastian admitted, his gaze flicking back to the storm outside. “Blizzards like this can blow over in a few hours… or last the whole night.”

Evangeline nodded, drawing the scarf tighter around her neck as the lantern’s light flickered between them. "Alright well... we should be far enough away to use some spells again. Might as well try and set up some sort of... camp."

Sebastian gave a short nod, already pulling out his wand. The warm glow of the lantern illuminated his face, revealing the subtle tension in his jaw and the calculating glint in his eyes. “Good idea,” he said, his voice steady as he assessed the uneven ground, “Let’s find a spot that's not so... jagged."

Evangeline glanced around the cavern, her eyes flitting uneasily toward the pit before snapping back to Sebastian. “Over there,” she suggested, pointing toward a slightly raised section of stone near the cavern wall. It was flat enough to sit on, and far enough from the pit that she could almost convince herself it wasn’t there. Almost.

Sebastian followed her gaze and nodded, already moving toward it. The soft crunch of his boots echoed faintly as he stepped into the lantern’s expanding circle of light. “This’ll do,” he muttered, crouching down to inspect the area. With a flick of his wand, he muttered a warming charm, and a faint shimmer rippled over the stone, pushing back some of the damp chill.

“It’s not exactly cozy,” he said, glancing back at her with a faint smirk, “but it beats hypothermia.”

Evangeline followed him, clutching the lantern tightly as she approached. The light cast flickering shadows along the rough stone walls, but the oppressive hum of the pit remained a constant reminder of their proximity to something they didn’t fully understand. She knelt beside Sebastian, placing the lantern down carefully before opening her satchel to search for anything useful.

Her fingers brushed against the blanket she’d packed, and she pulled it out, spreading it across the stone. “At least this is better than sitting on bare rock,” she said, trying to inject some normalcy into her voice.

Sebastian’s brow arched as he watched her. “A blanket, too? What else do you have in there? A full tea set?”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Unlike some people, I actually plan ahead.”

“Well, aren’t I lucky to have such a prepared companion,” Sebastian quipped, settling down on the blanket beside her. His shoulder brushed hers, and even through the layers of fabric, his warmth was reassuring.

They sat in silence for quite some time, the quiet broken only by the faint crackle of the lantern’s flame and the relentless howling of the wind outside. Time seemed to stretch in the dim light, the minutes crawling by as the oppressive chill of the cavern seeped into their bones. The hum from the pit had faded to a distant vibration, but it lingered in the back of Evangeline’s mind like a faint, unwelcome whisper.

Sebastian leaned back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, his wand loosely balanced in his hand. His gaze was distant, the faint crease between his brows betraying the thoughts running through his head. Evangeline sat beside him, her knees pulled to her chest beneath the blanket as she tried to fend off the creeping cold.

The wind outside roared with renewed ferocity, a sharp, unrelenting sound that made her flinch. She glanced toward the mouth of the cavern, but the storm outside was impenetrable, a swirling wall of white that showed no signs of letting up.

“This storm is worse than we thought,” she murmured eventually, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Sebastian turned his head toward her, his eyes meeting hers in the flickering light. “Yeah,” he agreed softly, his tone serious. “It’s not letting up anytime soon.”

Evangeline sighed, resting her chin on her knees as she stared at the lantern’s flame. She was tired—bone-deep tired—but the cold seemed to sink its claws into her, keeping her from relaxing. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the blanket, her knuckles white.

“We’re going to have to stay here, aren’t we?” she asked after a long silence. The words felt heavy, almost reluctant, as though saying them out loud would solidify the reality.

Sebastian didn’t respond immediately. His gaze shifted toward the cavern’s entrance, his jaw tightening as the wind howled louder, rattling faintly against the stone walls. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low.

Evangeline closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a slow breath. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t fallen asleep near each other before—the Undercroft had hosted its fair share of late nights when exhaustion overtook them mid-conversation. But this was different. The cavern was freezing, the storm relentless, and she knew they wouldn’t be able to keep warm without sharing the blanket. Without being close.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said suddenly, his voice softer now. “I didn’t think it’d get this bad. If I’d known—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, opening her eyes to look at him. “You couldn’t have known. And even if you did, I was the one who chose to come along.”

Sebastian tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “Still,” he murmured. "It was my idea."

His words carried an unexpected weight, and Evangeline found herself searching his face for a moment longer before looking away. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, the movement more for comfort than warmth. “We’ve been through worse, Sallow,” she teased quietly, more to reassure herself than him.

The silence stretched again, and this time it was heavier, the reality of their situation settling over them like a second layer of frost. Evangeline’s teeth chattered faintly, and she cursed the chill that seemed to sink into her very bones. She shifted closer to Sebastian without thinking, drawn instinctively to his warmth. At the contact, Sebastian flinched.

“Merlin's beard, you’re freezing,” he said, his gaze flicking to her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Evangeline shook her head. “I’m fine,” she lied, her voice trembling slightly.

Sebastian frowned, clearly unconvinced. Without a word, he shifted closer, pulling the blanket around them both as he draped an arm over her shoulders. “You’re terrible at lying,” he muttered, his tone exasperated but soft.

Evangeline stiffened for a moment, her heart pounding at the sudden proximity. But the warmth of him was undeniable, and her body relaxed almost instinctively against his. “I didn’t want to complain,” she admitted quietly.

“Complaining is allowed,” Sebastian said firmly, his tone laced with a faint hint of teasing. “Especially when it’s this bloody cold.”

A soft laugh escaped her, the sound muffled as she let her head rest lightly against his shoulder. “Well, then consider this my official complaint,” she murmured.

Sebastian didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he adjusted his wand, muttering a warming charm under his breath. A faint shimmer rippled through the air around them, and Evangeline felt a brief surge of heat settle over her skin, chasing away the worst of the cold.

For a moment, she sighed in relief, leaning slightly closer to the newfound warmth. But just as quickly, the warmth began to wane, the charm’s effects dulling like a candle losing its flame. The air remained thick and heavy, pressing in on them with a strange, unyielding energy.

Sebastian let out a frustrated sigh, his brow furrowing as his gaze flicked toward his wand then back to the direction of the pit, shrouded in darkness further down the cavern. “This bloody cave," he muttered, “It’s messing with everything.”

His gaze shifted back to Evangeline, her frame still trembling faintly beneath the blanket despite their shared warmth. The sight of her like this—cold, exhausted, and trying so hard not to show it—made something twist painfully in his chest. He tightened his arm around her shoulders, his tone soft but insistent as he said, “Lie down.”

She blinked, her head tilting slightly to look up at him. “What?”

“You’re freezing,” he said firmly, not leaving any room for argument. “And sitting like this isn’t helping. If we’re stuck here, you need to rest, properly. Lie down.”

Evangeline hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. The idea of lying down, of letting herself be vulnerable here, with him, felt… complicated. But the chill had sunk so deeply into her that the prospect of staying upright felt unbearable.

“Where?” she asked quietly, glancing around the uneven ground.

Sebastian shifted, guiding her gently as he adjusted his position. “Here,” he murmured, lying back and settling against the stone. He stretched out his arm, patting the crook of it with a faint smirk. “Come on, Sterling. I’m not letting you use the rock as a pillow.”

She stared at him for a moment, her heart pounding as she debated. The intimacy of the moment, the cold pressing them together, the heavy silence of the cavern around them… it felt charged in a way that made her hesitant.

But the cold won out. With a quiet sigh, she shifted closer, carefully lowering herself until her head rested against his arm.

Sebastian adjusted the blanket over them both, pulling it snug before wrapping his other arm around her, resting his hand lightly on her side. The motion was careful, deliberate, as though he were trying not to startle her. He could feel her stiffness, the faint tension in her body as she settled against him.

“You’re like a block of ice,” he muttered, his voice soft and laced with concern. “Relax, Evie. I’m not going to let you freeze.”

She didn’t respond immediately, her body still rigid against him, but Sebastian was still keenly aware of every point of contact between them—the way her back pressed against his chest, the soft brush of her hair against his jaw, the faint rise and fall of her breathing. Her warmth was intoxicating, seeping into him and chasing away the worst of the cold. And her scent… Merlin, her scent was wrapping around him like a spell.

He tried to force his thoughts back to the present, to the storm, to their precarious situation. But it was impossible to ignore the way her presence filled every inch of the space around him. He’d imagined moments like this before, fleeting daydreams he’d always pushed aside as impossible. Now that it was real, it was almost overwhelming how easily he could press his lips to her hair or murmur something he’d regret in the quiet of the cavern.

Eventually, Evangeline’s breathing began to slow, the tension in her body easing as the shared warmth between them seeped into her bones. The cold had dulled her reluctance, and she allowed herself to relax, letting her head rest more fully against his arm.

“Better?” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost afraid to break the fragile stillness between them.

Evangeline murmured something unintelligible, her tone drowsy. Her head shifted slightly against his arm, her hair brushing against his skin in a way that sent a faint shiver down his spine. “Mm-hmm,” she managed finally, her voice softer now. “Better.”

Sebastian let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Good,” he said, though his voice was rougher than he intended. He tightened his arm around her ever so slightly, his hand brushing against her side in a gesture that was meant to be comforting but felt far too intimate in the stillness of the cavern.

Sebastian woke slowly, the heavy stillness of the cavern pressing down on him like a weight. For a moment, he couldn’t quite remember where he was—the air was too cold, the ground too hard beneath him. Then the faint hum in the distance brought everything back: the cave, the pit, the blizzard outside.

And Evangeline.

His breath caught as he realized she was still curled into him, her body warm and soft against his. At some point in the night, she must have shifted; her face was now turned toward him, her breath warm against his neck. One of her hands rested lightly on his chest, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his coat as if anchoring herself to him.

Sebastian’s heart thudded in his chest, the sound almost deafening in the quiet. He didn’t dare move, every nerve in his body hyper-aware of her proximity. Her hair tickled his chin, and he could feel the faint rise and fall of her breathing against him, slow and even in her sleep.

For a fleeting moment, he let himself just… exist in the moment. It wasn’t real—not the way he wanted it to be, with the threat of a storm and whatever darkness loomed behind them hanging over their heads. But the warmth of her against him, the quiet, steady rhythm of her breathing, was enough to soothe the worst of his doubts.

Her face was so close to his that he could see the faint freckles dusting her cheeks, illuminated by the dim, flickering light of the lantern they’d left burning through the night. Her lashes fluttered slightly, and her lips parted just enough for him to catch the soft rhythm of her breaths.

Get a grip, Sallow, he scolded himself silently, tearing his gaze away and staring up at the uneven stone ceiling above them. And yet, his body betrayed him. The warmth of her, the way she seemed to fit perfectly against him, the trust she showed in letting herself rest so completely in his arms—it all made him feel like a drowning man grasping for air.

The wind outside had died down, the storm finally easing into a quiet calm. But Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to feel relief, not when he knew this moment—this fragile, perfect moment—would end the second she opened her eyes.

And when she did, when those hazel eyes blinked open and she realized how close they were, what would she see in him? Could he hide the storm raging inside him, the feelings he couldn’t name but couldn’t deny?

He didn't have to wait long to find out.

Evangeline stirred, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her lashes fluttered against her cheeks. Sebastian’s breath hitched, his entire body tensing as she slowly woke. For a fleeting moment, she remained still, her brows furrowing slightly as though still caught in the haze of sleep.

Then her eyes opened, hazel irises unfocused at first before they slowly sharpened—and widened.

The realization was immediate. She froze, her gaze darting to his, and Sebastian was struck by the sudden clarity in her expression. Her hand, still resting on his chest, twitched as if she might pull it away, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared at him, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Morning,” Sebastian said, his voice quieter than he intended. He offered a faint, crooked smile, desperately hoping to mask the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

Evangeline blinked, her face coloring faintly as she processed their position—the warmth of his arm still around her, the blanket cocooning them both, her breath still brushing against his collarbone. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost uncertain.

They stayed like that for a moment, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. Sebastian searched her face for a hint of what she might be feeling—embarrassment, maybe, or discomfort—but her expression was unreadable.

“I—” she started, her voice catching as her gaze flickered between his eyes and the space where her hand still rested against his chest. “I didn’t mean to… I must’ve—”

“You were cold,” Sebastian interrupted gently, his voice steady despite the rapid beat of his heart. He didn’t move, didn’t dare to, afraid of shattering whatever delicate thread held them in this moment. “And you needed rest. That’s all.”

Evangeline’s brows knit together, her lips pressing into a faint line as she considered his words. Slowly, she pulled her hand back, curling it against her chest as though unsure what to do with it. “I... yeah,” she said quietly, "Well. Thank you. For… everything.”

Sebastian nodded, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Of course,” he said, his tone light despite the weight in his chest. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you freeze to death in a cave?”

The word friend hung heavily between them, and Sebastian felt the sharp pang it always brought. But Evangeline didn’t flinch. Instead, she simply gave him a small, tentative smile before, sitting up as she glanced toward the cavern’s entrance.

“It sounds like the storm’s letting up,” she said, her voice rough with sleep.

Sebastian sat up as well, his movements deliberate as he adjusted the blanket. “Looks like it,” he agreed, his tone casual even as his chest ached with the loss of her warmth. “We should check to see if it’s safe to leave.”

Evangeline nodded, standing and moving toward the lantern. She picked it up, holding it close as she glanced back at him. "Looks like we have another secret to keep from Lysander."

Sebastian’s lips twitched into a faint smirk at her comment, though the mention of Lysander sent a sharp pang through him. He forced himself to focus on the teasing lilt in her voice rather than the knot tightening in his chest. “Right,” he said, his voice careful, steady. “Wouldn’t want to complicate things for you.”

Evangeline glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly at his tone. “I just meant…” She trailed off, biting her lip as her gaze flickered toward the cavern entrance. "It probably wouldn't go over well."

Sebastian gave a short, humorless chuckle, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’m sure he’d have plenty to say about us being stuck in a cave together, blanket-sharing and all.” His tone was light, teasing even, but there was an edge to it that he couldn’t quite hide.

Evangeline’s frown deepened, her hazel eyes searching his face as if trying to piece together his sudden shift in demeanor. “Sebastian, this... doesn’t need to be a big deal, right?” she said, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I mean, it was just survival. Nothing more.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened at her words, though he masked it with an easy shrug as he leaned against the cavern wall. “It’s fine, Evie. Really. Let’s just focus on getting out of here before the storm decides to trap us for another night.”

But it wasn’t fine. Not even close. The word Lysander hung between them, a bitter reminder of the line he wasn’t supposed to cross, the feelings he wasn’t allowed to have. And yet, here he was, standing in the aftermath of a night that had brought him closer to her than he’d ever dared imagine—and it still wasn’t enough.

Evangeline sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she turned back toward the cavern entrance. “Alright,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. She adjusted the lantern in her hands, the flickering light casting shadows across the jagged stone walls as she moved forward. “Let’s see if the path is clear.”

Sebastian followed her, his steps slow and deliberate as they emerged into the icy morning. The cold bit sharply at his cheeks, but the air felt lighter out here, freer. He glanced at Evangeline, watching the way she tightened his scarf against the chill, her movements purposeful and determined.

“You’re not going to let me hear the end of this, are you?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence as they trudged through the snow.

Sebastian grinned, “Oh, absolutely not. I’ve got at least a month’s worth of teasing material. Maybe two.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Of course you do.”

He stepped past her with an easy smile, leading the way down the mountain as the weight of everything unsaid pressed heavily against his chest. He let their conversation drift into the easy banter that came naturally to them, but for all his bravado, for all his teasing and charm, Sebastian Sallow knew one thing for certain: wanting Evangeline Sterling and being the person she chose were two very different things.

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as-thra · 2 months ago

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🐍 forgot about him

#he only ever wears daniel's scarves sorry about that #he'a slytherin frown ☹️🙁#aslan aureus #hpma oc #hpma mc #hpma #hp magic awakened #art!

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ultravjiolencee · 8 days ago

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Accidently wearing each other’s ties

pairing! fred weasley x different house reader

context! In the bustling morning chaos of the Gryffindor common room, you and Fred accidentally grab the wrong ties while rushing to get ready for the day. Your mistake doesn’t go unnoticed, and soon rumors swirl among their classmates. mention of slytherin reader just so.

The Gryffindor common room was already buzzing with the usual morning energy. Students were shuffling out of the portrait hole, tying their scarves and grumbling about early lessons.

You were sitting on the armrest of the couch near the fire, adjusting your robes and tugging at your tie. You looked slightly disheveled but didn’t think much of it—after all, mornings at Hogwarts rarely allowed for much polish.

Fred Weasley appeared a moment later, running a hand through his unruly hair, clearly having woken up only minutes earlier. He grinned at her in that mischievous way of his, still a little groggy but undeniably Fred.

“Morning, love” he greeted, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of your head before sitting down next to you.

“Morning” you replied with a small smile, stifling a yawn. You reached up to straighten your tie again, feeling like it wasn’t quite sitting right but too distracted to notice why.

Fred yanked his own tie into place, not even glancing down as he fiddled with the knot. “Ready for Snape’s lesson? I hear he’s extra cheery today.”

You rolled your eyes . “If by ‘cheery’ you mean he’ll take house points from Gryffindor just for existing, then yes. I’m absolutely thrilled.”

Fred chuckled, his focus still half on you as you gathered your things and joined the growing crowd heading down to breakfast.

The Great Hall was alive with chatter as students settled into their respective tables. Fred sat at Gryffindor table, sharing a plate of toast with Lee and trading sarcastic comments about the cloudy weather.

It wasn’t until George slid onto the bench across from them, a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth, that things started to unravel.

“Morning” George greeted, giving the two of them a long, pointed look.

“Morning” Fred replied, completely oblivious as he poured himself some pumpkin juice.

George tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Fred, mate…” He leaned forward, smirking. “Why are you wearing a Slytherin tie?”

Fred froze mid-sip, lowering his goblet slowly. “What are you on about?”

George pointed, and sure enough, the green-and-silver tie hung neatly against Fred’s chest.

Fred blinked, then looked over at you. “Wait—what the—” His words trailed off as he noticed your tie, which was unmistakably Gryffindor red and gold.

Your brow furrowed as you glanced down at yourself, then back at Fred. “Oh, no…”

“Did you two… swap ties?” George asked, his smirk growing impossibly wider. His voice carried just enough to catch the attention of a few nearby students, who immediately turned their heads.

“We must’ve grabbed the wrong ones this morning,” You muttered, your cheeks quickly turning pink.

“Sure, sure,” George said, his tone teasing as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the moment. “That’s definitely what happened. Right, Fred? No other explanation?”

Fred groaned, running a hand down his face. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, George, don’t start.”

But it was too late. Word spread quickly along the Gryffindor table, and soon enough, a chorus of hushed giggles and not-so-subtle whispers filled the air.

“Did you see their ties?”

“Switched them, huh? Wonder why…”

“Guess we know what they were up to last night.”

You buried your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear. “This is a disaster” you mumbled.

Fred, however, was less mortified and more amused. He leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “At least they’re creative. I mean, you’ve got to admire their dedication to imagining our nonexistent scandalous night.”

You gave him a sharp look, though your lips twitched despite yourself. “Fred, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” he corrected, grinning at you. “But only because they’re completely wrong. If they only knew the truth…” He trailed off with a wink, his tone clearly teasing.

Before you could retort, Ginny appeared behind you, arms crossed and her eyebrows raised. “What on earth did you two do?”

“Nothing!”You said quickly, though your flushed cheeks didn’t help your case.

Fred, ever the troublemaker, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and smirked up at his sister. “Nothing we’d admit to in public, anyway.”

Ginny rolled her eyes but didn’t push further, though her expression suggested she was filing this moment away for future teasing.

As the day went on, the whispers didn’t exactly die down. Even in Potions, you caught a few knowing smirks from both Gryffindor and Slytherin classmates.

“Ignore them,” Fred said during a brief lull in class. He slipped you a note across the desk, grinning when you opened it.

It read: If we’re already being blamed for it, maybe we should make their rumors true?

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat, and scribbled back: You’re impossible.

Fred read your response and winked at you. “But you like me for it.”

And, despite your flustered state, you couldn’t help but smile.

#harry potter #hp #hp fandom #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasly x reader #hp fanfic

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morelikeravenbore · 2 months ago

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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.

#sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x fmc #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy smut #morelikeravenbore writes #beater!sebastian #Quidditch!Sebastian

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mattnott · 2 months ago

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𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄

lorenzo berkshire x fem reader

SUMMARY. enzo knows how to push buttons, and what better way to get under his girlfriend’s skin than by flirting with someone else? WORDS.+5.8K. english it’s not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, +18 mdni, porn w//plot, reader and enzo are 18, sub!enzo, oral! f receiving, pnv, dick riding, lick kink (?), unprotected sex, making out, established relationship, whipped enzo (kinda), flirting, jealous reader, pussy drunk enzo, finger sucking.

A chilling fog hovered over the vast castle of Hogwarts. The dense, almost spectral mist curled around the school’s tall towers and spiraled down to cover the surface of the Black Lake, spreading like a curtain across the landscape and blurring the boundaries between sky and earth, creating an endless sea of gray that made it nearly impossible to discern the horizon.

Outside was eerily silent, and the usual sounds of bustling students seemed muffled. The hurried footsteps, the distant laughter—everything seemed softened, silenced by the thick, damp air. Even the castle’s imposing stone walls, usually so solid yet welcoming, felt colder, more rigid than usual, enveloped by the heavy, damp fog that crept into every corner and corridor.

Within the castle, the torches flickered faintly, casting long shadows across the stone corridors. The few students who remained moved swiftly, their voices hushed, as if they didn’t want to disturb the heavy silence that had settled with the fog and cold, which seemed to cling to the walls, making them wrap themselves in cloaks and scarves in a nearly futile attempt to escape the biting chill.

In contrast to the school’s corridors, the Slytherin common room filled the air with an almost eerie yet comforting calm. The soft glow of green-tinged torches reflected gently off the leather and velvet armchairs, and the fire crackled in the large fireplace, though its warmth was still a bit weak, barely enough to drive the lingering chill from the stone walls. Not that it mattered much; most of the students had already gone to bed, leaving only a few by the fire, chatting quietly among themselves.

Lorenzo Berkshire was one of them.

Enzo was lounging by the fireplace in an old velvet armchair, the soft firelight casting shadows over his handsome features, highlighting the lines of his face and the playful glint in his gaze. He held his usual casual, almost lazy posture, yet there was a subtle mischief in his expression that contrasted with his apparent relaxation. A faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth as he watched his friends, Mattheo and Theodore, who were seated a little further in front of him.

Beside them, a small group of girls giggled at their conversation, though they seemed more interested in everything except the words being said, eyeing the slytherin trio with an almost obscene manner.

On the other side of the common room, you stood, almost concealed in the shadows, the soft glow of the fire casting a faint light on the pages of the small book resting in your lap. Yet, the book had long been forgotten, with only your fingers tightly gripping the pages as a reminder of its presence. Your attention, however, was completely focused on your boyfriend, Enzo, who was now dangerously close to a girl, her smile too provocative and wide, her laughter too loud for your taste.

It was torture.

You kept a distance, your heart skipped a beat as you watched them, and you could feel your body growing sick. The girl leaned in slightly, her hand brushing against the armrest of Enzo’s chair, and her laughter sounded too sweet in a way that made you want to tear your ears off and her tongue out. She was enjoying flirting with him far too much, way too much. Her eyes sparkled with the attention she thought Enzo was giving her, and it made your blood boil, almost as if your veins were about to melt.

Still, you tried to keep your composure.

You could see the way his lips curled into another smirk, this time a more confident one—the kind that always made you want to reach out and wipe that annoyingly perfect face off. He was clearly toying with her, and while you knew you were the one who truly held his heart, that didn’t change the fact that you could feel your veins burning with anger. And what made it worse was that it was happening right in front of you, with him fully aware you were watching.

Every fake laugh he let slip with her made your ears ache, and every fake flirtatious glance he shot her way made your almost eyes bleed. But what twisted the knife was how everything he did felt intentionally exaggerated, as though he was either sending a message—or even worse, provoking you until you cracked.

And the worst part? It was almost working.

Enzo always loved doing that. He always loved drawing attention, but it wasn’t just for fun—it was almost like a weapon. Every gesture, every smile, every word, every step, it was all calculated, all part of his game. Nothing was spontaneous. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to manipulate the atmosphere, twisting every ounce of his charm to ensure all eyes were on him.

And it wasn’t just about being seen, it was about controlling how others saw him. Enzo was always one step ahead, and he knew exactly how to make everything he wanted fall right into his hands. Sometimes he just seemed to forget how that game didn't work with you most of the time.

You sighed sharply, flipping open the book again and trying to read, but the words blurred under your gaze. Your fingers dug into the pages, pressing harder before you could realize it, too furious at the scene playing out in front of you. Every muscle in your body tensed as you held yourself back from doing something reckless, forcing yourself to keep control so he wouldn’t feel like he’d won.

You wanted to scream in frustration.

The girl seemed to be enjoying herself even more, too oblivious to sense the insincerity in his actions, too thrilled with the attention she was getting. She leaned in closer, her hand settling on his arm with an irritating confidence, her fingers now tracing along his sleeve. At her touch, Enzo shifted slightly, moving a few millimeters away, offering her a lazy grin, though you could detect a flicker of irritation behind it as he murmured something low, meant only for her ears.

“No touching, yet.” You read his lips, aware that Enzo was always the one to initiate contact but never the one to welcome it; you were the only one who held that privilege. ‘Yet’ felt like a hollow promise, one she’d never be able to do.

Unfortunately for you, she was too clueless to notice, and her irritating giggles grew louder as she pushed her hand on herself, convinced that he would give her what she wanted at any moment.

He wouldn’t, yet you still wanted to rip your eyes from your face, or perhaps tear out theirs.

Your grip tightened around the pages as her loud giggles echoed in your ears, the edges of the pages biting into your skin, leaving red marks behind. The temptation to march over there, to yank Enzo away by his hair and remind him that you were the only one allowed to touch him, was overwhelming.

You wanted to remind him that you, his girlfriend, were right there. But when his eyes finally met yours, that flicker of amusement in his gaze froze you in place. He knew. You knew he knew. And worse, you knew he was doing it on purpose.

Your relationship was always this way—small, calculated moves to unsettle each other, to test who loved the other more, who could push the other further, who felt more. Little games meant to sting, to spark jealousy, all leading to the same end: you finally giving in, begging him to be inside of you. But this time, you told yourself, would be different. This time, you wouldn’t beg.

No matter how much you loved him or how deeply you craved him, this time you wouldn’t give in. Still, the urge simmered within you, a desire to remind Enzo that he was yours just as much as you were his. The thought alone made you bite your lip in frustration, struggling to keep yourself from getting up and putting an end to this nonsense.

Enzo’s smile widened slightly when he noticed the frustrated look you cast in his direction, watching him intently. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes told you everything, he loved the power he had over you. The way your frustration was slowly eating away at you was exactly what he wanted.

As you refused to give in, he almost let out a tired sigh, bored by your resistance, until a wicked little idea flickered in his mind, making him drape his arm over the top of the sofa, and the girl's giggles grew louder as she stepped closer, gazing up at him like he was her next prize. She was practically begging for his attention, and though Enzo only offered her a fake smirk, you felt your blood boil once more.

You took a sharp breath, pulling your gaze away from the scene in front of you. You did your best to control the jealousy and possessiveness rising inside you, struggling to keep your anger from spilling over. But there was something about his nonchalance that made your resolve begin to crumble, the way he seemed perfectly at ease with what he was doing to you and your jealousy, making you feel like you were overreacting.

That was maddening.

But still, you stayed where you were, with an almost unreadable expression. You were no stranger to the games Enzo liked to play and the way he loved getting a reaction out of you, as if he was proving to himself that you cared.

The girl, too distracted to notice the tension between the two of you, leaned in even closer to Enzo. Her fingers lightly brushed against his arm again, a gesture that would have meant nothing to anyone else. But to you, it felt like a physical blow, and you couldn't help but clench your jaw, your fingers digging into the pages of the book again as you fought to maintain your self-control.

This time, he couldn’t win. You wouldn’t let him win again.

Enzo noticed your reaction—he always did. His smirk deepened, filled with satisfaction at seeing your discomfort mirrored by the irritation simmering within him.

He let the moment drag on just a bit longer, holding your gaze just long enough to make it clear he was fully aware of how you were reacting, before finally turning to the girl. An irritated smirk played on his lips as he leaned toward her. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he murmured, his tone teasing but laced with acidity.

You recognized his behavior instantly. He’d never liked it when anyone besides you tried to touch him; he didn’t care for anyone’s attention as much as he cared for yours. You knew he was drawing a line, not because of her, but for of you, because no matter how far he went, his love, however twisted it was, was yours.

Only yours.

The girl, however, didn’t seem to take the hint, and you couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could be so stupid. Even Mattheo and Theodore exchanged looks, cringing at her annoying persistence.

But she only smiled wider, clearly convinced his words were part of some flirtatious game, part of the charm he was known for. She leaned in closer, determined to close the distance between them, as if she could break through the invisible wall Enzo had put up around himself, a wall that only you were allowed to pass.

Still, you were on the edge, feeling the rational part of you slip through your fingers, but you forced yourself to stay seated. Your nails dug into the fabric of your pants, the book now discarded on the floor as you kept watching them, the jealousy eating you alive.

You tore your gaze away from him for a moment, focusing on the cover of the book, desperately trying to calm the storm raging inside you. But then you felt it—his deep chocolate eyes on you again, the weight of his gaze pulling you back to him.

He was staring at your face, a frown tugging at his brows, but it was the fucking smirk that made your blood boil. It was as if he could sense every reaction you had and could read every thought that flickered through your mind. And the worst part? Enzo could.

And now, every time the girl giggled even louder in an exaggerated manner and grabbed your boyfriend’s arm with even more confidence, it wasn’t just jealousy anymore, it was something more insistent, something sharper. Your blood wasn’t just boiling anymore; it was exploding, almost tearing through your veins.

Enzo was pushing you, testing your limits to see how much you could handle before all hell broke loose. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, how to make you feel small or powerful, even without trying. And yet, somehow, you were still clinging to your composure, even though the final straw was closer than you realized. You were going to lose it, you were definitely going to lose it.

Then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Enzo’s gaze sliced through the air like a blade. His lips moved lazily. “She’s just playing,” you read his lips, the words meant only for you, his posture softer than you had ever seen, his eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing serious, princess.” You read his lips again, your hands gripping your pants harder. But deep down, you knew if he had said it aloud, his voice would be dripping with mockery.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay still and cling to the little dignity you had left, refusing to let him get under your skin any further. You had been holding your ground, resisting his game—until now.

But then, as if sensing your resolve cracking, Enzo shifted slightly, discomfort flickering across his face at her touch, but the smug relaxation in his posture betrayed the satisfaction beneath. He knew exactly what he was doing, pulling you back in.

His arm still draped over the back of the green sofa, casually claiming the space, as if he had all the time in the world. The girl, still completely unaware of her role in his twisted game to have you, leaned in even closer, her lips inches from his ear.

That's when it happened. The final push.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Without a word, you stood up abruptly, your steps heavy on the floor, the sharp echo reverberating through the communal room, drawing the attention of the few students still lingering. Their eyes followed you, tracking every swift, angry movement.

You ignored the shifting shadows behind you, finally accepting that you’d lost and making your way toward your boyfriend.

Enzo’s eyes followed your every step, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as you reached his chair. Without giving him a chance to say a word, you grabbed his tie, not gently, but with a force that made him falter for a second. You drove him to his feet, dragging him away from the girl in one fast gesture.

His friends exchanged knowing glances, amusement dancing in their eyes, but none of them dared to interfere, too entertained by whatever was happening. The girl blinked, her flirtatious smile quickly fading as she watched you drag Enzo toward the dorm stairs. The way he didn’t resist.

He never did when it came to you.

Your hand stayed clenched around Enzo’s tie, gripping it with a possessiveness that radiated a silent claim as you reached the stairs, your eyes scanning the path ahead, oblivious to the satisfied gaze he kept locked on you. His smile widened when you gave his tie another firm tug, his eyes gleaming with a dark, consuming hunger, pleased that you’d put an end to the scene, pleased that you’d proven exactly what he wished.

As you reached your dorm door, you spun to face him, frustration and anger simmering in your gaze, your breaths shallow and unsteady. Your hold on his tie tightened, possessive and unyielding, as you pushed him inside, disregarding the smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The dark glint in his eyes only made your blood burn hotter; he’d been waiting for this, savoring every second, but you would not give him what he wanted, not yet.

Once you were both inside the room, you released your grip on Enzo’s tie, shoving him into the chair with an intensity that matched your boiling anger. You could still feel the heat of jealousy coursing through you as you moved, your steps quick and agitated. Enzo, though taken aback for a brief moment, quickly regained his composure, his smirk transforming into a playful, charming smile.

He watched you pace the room, his eyes gleaming with amusement, as you pressed your hand to your forehead, trying to control the anger you felt.

“You seemed a bit... tense back there, princess.” Enzo’s voice was smooth, teasing, as he settled into the chair, his gaze dark and unwavering on you. “Need any help?” he continued, his tone still playful, but the edge in his smile faltered when you shot him a sharp, cutting glare. He knew you were angry. He could feel it.

“Don’t even try, Enzo!” you snapped, your voice laced with frustration. Normally, you would have played along with his games, but tonight, you were beyond furious. Maybe it was the stress of the day or just the suffocating weight of everything, but this time, he’d gone too far.

Enzo’s smirk faltered for a brief second, but it was enough for you to catch it—the flicker of regret that crossed his face before he masked it. He was trying to read you, testing the waters, but something seemed to shifted.

“That girl… What the fuck were you trying to prove?” you demanded, stepping closer, your hands balling into fists at your sides as your frustration flared.

He didn’t want to upset you like this; you knew that. He loved you too much for that. He always showed it with sweet words, declarations, and little gestures that made you feel like you were everything to him.

But underneath it all, there was that part of him, the part that couldn’t stop playing his games. He had always been the center of attention, drawing people in with ease, but when it came to you, it was different. You were the only one who held his heart, and yet, in his own way, he still craved the control.

Pushing boundaries, testing limits, he couldn’t help it. Not because he didn’t care for you, but because, in some twisted way, he needed to know just how far you would go for him.

Yet, Enzo sometimes seemed clueless to the fact that he already held your attention completely and that was his mistake. He always thought that his way of loving was the only right way, always wanting you to meet his standards.

“I wasn’t trying to prove anything!” he defended himself, though his voice faltered slightly, a crack betraying him as he watched you intently, that was not the reaction he wanted.

“Oh, right, of course you weren’t!” You rolled your eyes, noticing how Enzo flinched just slightly at your reaction, his gaze fixed on the way your fists clenched as you tried to hold yourself back. “Is that why you let that fucking girl throw herself at you?” You shot back, not really waiting for a response, as you took a step closer.

Enzo held your gaze, and for a moment, his usual charming smile faltered, replaced by something more vulnerable. But he quickly masked it with his familiar defiance, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes met yours with that challenge you knew all too well.

“Oh, come on!” He said, standing up from the chair with a bit of awkwardness, his eyes following you as you got closer, his throat tightening as he swallowed. For a moment, it was hard to tell if it was vulnerability or eagerness in his gaze, or maybe both. “She didn’t mean anything, and you know that,” he muttered, his voice dropping as he watched as you moved closer, his usual confidence flattering.

“That’s not the damn point, Lorenzo!” you snapped again, your frustration building as you stepped even closer, refusing to acknowledge the way his gaze lingered on you.

“It’s the fact that you let it happen, knowing damn well I was right there. You wanted me to get angry, just to see if I’d snap.” You stood before him now, your eyes burning into his, not ready to lose once again.

Enzo was beginning to get frustrated, hating how his mistakes and sick games were coming back to bite him, but that wasn’t what upset him the most. Under the surface, there was a part of him that wanted you to react like you always did—letting him take control of the situation, giving him the pleasure he craved. But another part of him couldn’t help but enjoy this side of you—the bitter, sour side.

It made him wonder how far you would go before it broke you or what you would do before that happened.

He continued to watch you carefully, his eyes flicking over your face as if searching for the reaction he so desperately craved. A hint of hesitation lingered in his posture. “Maybe I want that,” he admitted, barely above a whisper, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Maybe I wanted to see if you’d fight for me. If you'd... show me that I mean enough to you to get that reaction, like you always do.” Enzo continued, and you furrowed your brows.

You took another step closer, closing the distance between you, feeling your anger morph into something darker—something raw and almost intense, your heart racing. “You think I wouldn’t care?” you said, your voice low, but with a sharpness that even surprised you. “I’m your fucking girlfriend! You really think I’d just stand back and let you play your games without reminding you who you belong to?” You snapped, your words barely a whisper, fighting to keep control, but the edge in your voice betraying you.

A flash of surprise and excitement crossed Enzo’s face, and for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something, to defend himself. But instead, he bit his lip, clearly satisfied with your response. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hands gripping each other, as if holding himself back.

He wanted you so much in that moment that it made him feel sick with need.

You took another step, your chest now pressed against his, feeling his warm breath against your skin. “I don’t want to play games every day, Enzo,” you admitted softly, but your eyes mirrored the hunger and craving in his. As much as you loved the games, they were starting to tire you out. “I want you. All of you. Without having to fight for it every time.” You watched as he swallowed at your words.

He was starting to get heavier, his rational instincts slipping away, as if his brain was losing control. His hands were sweating, gripping each other tightly, his neck and body trembling, and his throat went dry as he fought to keep himself together.

Enzo didn’t know how much power words could have over him, how they could excite him to the core and strip away his rational thoughts. A part of him hated himself for how he used to take action instead of simply listening to what you had to say. He was sure his heart and veins might explode at any moment.

“Fuck, princess,” he muttered, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, his touch almost tender. “You already have all of me.” He admitted, his breath ragged.

“I do?” you asked, your eyes lingering on his lips, the moment feeling almost obscene. But Enzo seemed too distracted.

“Heart, body, and soul,” he whispered, his voice steady but low, his breathing growing heavier with each word. “You can have me anytime. I’m yours to ruin.”

With that, you couldn’t take it anymore. Before he could say another word, you gripped his neck, pulling him toward you and kissing him with such intensity and dominance that he was sure he was losing himself in it.

The kiss was rough and erotic, like an inferno consuming you both from the inside out. Your boyfriend couldn’t help but gasp as he felt your nails scratching down the back of his neck, pulling him even closer against your body. You could feel his hard length pressing against you, but you didn’t care.

You continued to kiss Lorenzo, tongues tangling and teeth grazing each other as any hint of restraint vanished moments ago. Your bodies pressed together, harder with every second, until he could feel his pants growing painfully tight around him. You both savored the familiar flavor of each other, but there was a nostalgic hunger in this kiss, one that left you both drunk with need, as if it were the first time all over again.

You dragged your nails down his neck, marking his skin with fierce intent, and he felt himself surrendering further to your control, a thrill he hadn’t expected but now craved. It was as if he were letting your pent-up anger devour him, wild and unrestrained, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

And God knows he was loving every second of it.

The way you were consuming him felt maddening, and he clung to you desperately, as if you were the only thing keeping him alive. He’d forgotten how your tongue was the one that stole the air from his lungs, how your hands gripped and scratched at his neck. He was so lost in the sensation of your body against his that he didn’t even realize when you were both completely bare.

It wasn’t until your hard nipples brushed against his skin that he froze, a deep groan escaping him as he pulled away from the kiss, his tongue slipping from his mouth as he gasped for air.

Enzo looked at you, ignoring the pain in his neck as his eyes devoured your body with a familiar hunger. His tongue still hung from his mouth, and another moan slipped from his lips. Without warning, you moved closer, your tongue flicking out to tease his, dragging a slow, deliberate lick across it, making him groan again, unable to hold back.

He couldn’t help but feel his cock throbbing harder, knowing that if he looked down, he’d see it straining, bigger than it had ever been before.

But Enzo couldn’t help it. You’d never done that before. He’d never felt your tongue lick his, at least not when you weren’t kissing or tangled in one of your make-out sessions. This was different. You’d only given him a taste, and Lord knows how much he craved another. It was like you’d woken something deep hidden inside him.

“Again,” he almost begged, his voice thick with need. You looked at him, watching as he pushed his tongue out again, desperate. “Again, please,” he begged, his voice barely a whisper. You couldn’t help but smirk, grabbing his neck and pulling him closer, your tongue meeting his in a slow, teasing lick. You devoured his tongue, feeling the slickness of his muscle against yours, swallowing his moans as your tongue dominated his.

His hand gripped your ass, holding you against him as if he were trying to keep himself from collapsing. He let out a breath against your tongue when he felt your nails dragging over his skin, a sharp reminder that no matter how much he touched you, tonight he had no control over you.

And you couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

You kept licking his tongue with yours, savoring every bit of his taste, staying just far enough to keep from kissing him but close enough to feel the heat of his tongue. But now, it wasn’t just your tongues that were rubbing together. A moan escaped you, just like Enzo’s, as you felt his cock sliding against your bare pussy, his hips grinding, desperate to press himself deeper into you.

“Enzo,” you moaned, pulling your tongue from his and ignoring his desperate protest, too consumed by the way his cock pressed against you, even though he wasn’t inside yet. “Shit, Enzo, I need to ride you, fuck.” You moaned again, grinding your hips against his, your rhythm rougher, more demanding than his, taking control.

He moaned at your words, “Do it, oh please, do it.” Enzo gasped, letting himself be guided toward your bed, sitting at the edge as he gazed at your body, his legs growing weak from the soft blankets beneath him. But the softness of the sheets did nothing to ease his anxiety when his eyes locked on your glistening, bare pussy, soaked with desire. “Sit on me, please... Just let me be inside you,” he begged, his voice trembling, almost pathetic in its desperation.

You sat on his lap, both of you moaning as you felt his cock teasing your entrance, yet you didn’t let him inside—at least not yet. You let yourself play with him, grinding your hips against him, listening to his moans as his cock slid through your wet folds.

When he was on the edge of begging again, you finally gave him what he wanted, moaning as you sank down, feeling him stretch your walls, filling you completely.

“Fuck!” He screamed in a moan, his hands gripping your thighs as he felt you riding him, your hips moving back and forth, squeezing his cock in a way that made him gasp. “Your pussy feels so fucking good, princess,” he groaned, his voice broken. “So fucking tight… so good.”

You could see the tears in Enzo’s eyes, and it only made you ride him harder, faster, your hips grinding down on him with more force. You arched your back, feeling him get impossibly tighter inside you, your walls clenching around him as you moved.

You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body shaking as you rode him.

He was moaning loudly, unable to remember the last time you two had such passionate sex, but he was loving every fucking second of it. He didn’t care that he’d begged for you to ride his dick like this—what mattered was the way your cunt squeezed him, how your thighs wrapped tightly around his torso, the way your back arched as you moaned, and how close he was to fucking cumming.

It was too much; he needed to let go, to cum inside you.

“Princess, fuck… I need to cum, please, let me. He begged, tears slipping from his eyes as he spoke. But you pulled him closer, your arms tight around his neck, bringing his face to your hard nipples, letting him kiss and suck on them.

“Me too, me too,” you moaned, breath hot against his ear as you felt his mouth teasing your nipples, the sweet contrast to the filthy act you were both caught in. With each moan, his cock slid deeper, pressing harder into you. “Let’s cum together, okay?” you asked, and Enzo nodded eagerly, pulling you tighter against him as his hips ground against yours.

The pace quickened, rougher now, and soon you both came together, your bodies shaking as you reached your release. Breathing heavily.

Enzo looked up at you, breathing heavily, his eyes filled with tears. You had to fight the urge to come again from the sight of him, so you stayed silent, watching his desperate gaze. You could feel the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through both your bodies as his hands roamed your back, his eyes still full of hunger, the desire never fading. But you didn’t speak, letting him take the first step.

“I...” he began, his breath ragged as he struggled to speak. “Princess, let me clean you up, please,” he asked, almost whining. You blink softly, trying to process his request. “Let me eat your pussy; I’ll be quick, I promise,” he pleaded, his desperate chocolate eyes locking with yours. Seeing the need in his gaze, you couldn’t help but nod, giving in to his request.

Enzo let out a relieved sigh when you nodded, lifting you carefully off the bed and sitting you back where he had been. You felt his cum from the sheets smear against your thighs, a shiver running through your body as the sticky liquid made contact with your skin, making you gasp with the sensation.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you look so fucking good from here,” Enzo whispered, his eyes locked on you as he knelt between your legs. “Your pussy’s so damn pretty,” he murmured to himself, his hands slowly spreading your legs apart, making a shiver run through your body.

“Enzo,” you murmured in anticipation, feeling your throat salivate with need.

“Just a moment, I just need to look a little more,” he said, his eyes fixed on your pussy with pure craving, his chest rising and falling with each breath. “So fucking pretty,” he muttered, leaning in closer to your folds, his pupils dilating as he took in how wet you were. He couldn’t help but let out a groan, his fingers moving to touch you.

With his touch, you moaned, his fingers moving slowly from top to bottom as he felt your arousal from your first orgasm coating his fingers. You could feel his other hand on your thighs, his fingers teasing, almost reaching your ass.

Enzo brought one of his fingers to his mouth, sucking your release off with obscene eagerness, and you couldn’t help but grip the sheets tightly as you watched his tongue circle around his finger, savoring every drop. The other hand grabbing your tight again.

“Oh, princess, you’re so sweet,” he groaned, his face inching closer to your cunt. But before he could take his first lick, he paused, extending his arm and placing his fingers, still coated in your wetness, in front of your mouth. “Can you suck them for me, sweetheart? Please?” You nodded eagerly, sucking his fingers clean, and once they were coated with your saliva, he buried his face between your legs, the first lick merging with the next as he devoured you hungry.

That was heaven.

“Enzo!” you almost screamed as he licked and sucked your folds with feverish intensity, his nose pressing against your folds as his tongue plunged into your wet core. It was messy—so fucking messy—that he seemed lost between your legs, as if he wasn’t trying to escape, he wanted to stay there, devouring you, tasting you, being dragged into madness.

And you didn’t mind; your fingers tangling in his sweaty hair, pushing his face harder against your pussy as you screamed his name. You didn’t want him to stop, and even if you did, he wouldn’t. Not with the way his tongue was relentlessly devouring and penetrating your cunt with perfect precision. It was messy—wild—but he didn’t care, and you even less. He was lost in the sensation, giving everything he had to please you, and he loved every second of it.

Your taste was making Enzo moan, making him drunk with the flavor. He couldn’t help but moan against your pussy, the vibrations sending shivers through your body, causing you to moan uncontrollably. “Oh, princess, you have such a pretty moans,” he murmured against your pussy, savoring every drop of your previous release.

Without warning, you came hard against his mouth, screaming his name with fervor, and he swallowed everything he could, savoring all the screams, while the rest of your cum mixed with his own release, soaking the sheets beneath you both.

You could had cum again with the sight.

Enzo pulled away from you, your arousal still on his chin, breathing heavily as he stared up at you with his usual mischievous grin, all his begging going away. “You know, I think I should flirt with other girls more often,” he teased, his voice warm as he sat on the floor, his eyes locked on you still perched on the bed.

“Shut up!” You playfully kicked him, causing him to laugh. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but there was no real bite behind your words.

He laughed again, his gaze softening as he looked at you with love. And for the first time, you seemed to be looking forward for his next mistake.

Loving Lorenzo was intoxicating, but nothing made you feel more alive than he did.

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

this is my first lorenzo berkshire one-shot, so please be kind and respectful! also it’s 4 am so might have grammar mistakes.

thanks for being my fav beta readers: @bucksplum & @earth4angels love you both (a little) 🐣 < 3

#— ; 𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 🧳#lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you

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megwritesriddles · 3 months ago

Text

Heavenly Torture ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 11 - Teasing & Degradation. After Hogwarts, Reader and Neville end up working together at Noltie's Botanical Novelties. Reader soon discovers she holds an unexpected power over Neville, one she'll have fun exerting over him at her whim.

Tags: Teasing, Degradation, Oral sex (m receiving), Neediness, Begging, Virgin!Neville, Sub!Neville, Dom!Reader, Slytherin!Reader, Set post Battle of Hogwarts, Coworkers to lovers (??).

Word count: 4.8k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: I know I'm running a day behind right now, I'll try my best to catch up when I can (hopefully monday)!! Another day, another submissive pathetic man... lol!! Also why did this end up so long... all this backstory for what?? Why do I keep doing this?? Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Getting the job at Noltie’s Botanical Novelties, the garden shop on Diagon Alley, had been one of the most relieving moments of your life. Not only did you have an income secured, but they’d hired you despite you having been in Slytherin. It seems silly for you to have been worried about this, given that people are starting to heavily advocate against stereotyping based on houses, but that didn’t mean it had actually stopped happening. At the moment, Slytherins were quite radioactive. Less than a year out from the war, all Slytherins near your age were assumed to be Death Eaters who just escaped consequence based on their age. This, of course, was not true for most of you, and certainly not for you. You’d been on the right side from… well, perhaps not the start, it takes time to shake your upbringing, but probably from some time in the fifth year. However, most people only remembered you as a Slytherin, and that was a decidedly bad thing to be currently. You knew you should have made more appearances at Dumbledore’s Army meetings, but back then you were facing the same issue, avoiding the meetings because when you did go, people would be distrusting of you because of the colour of your tie. Now people barely remembered that you’d been a member at all. It was frustrating beyond belief, but you just had to keep going.

The job at Noltie’s was an undoubted blessing, just a few years ago it would have been a no-brainer for you to get the job, given your expertise, but this year it had truly felt like it wouldn’t happen for you. When you’d gone in to pick up your uniform about a week before starting, Edward Noltie himself had confessed to having been a Slytherin himself in his school days. You wouldn’t have guessed it, the kookie old man certainly reminded you more of the types that come out of Hufflepuff, but you told yourself to stop stereotyping, you had learned its inaccuracies over and over by now. It amused you slightly how much he tried to separate himself from the Slytherin label, only claiming the identity in the past tense, while most Gryffindors were likely to wear their Gryffindor scarves until at least their 200s. You thanked him anyway for his understanding, emphasising once again that you’d had no ties to the Death Eaters. As you were leaving with the bag containing your uniform, he stopped you.

“We actually have another employee with us from your year group at Hogwarts, a very talented young man, instrumental in winning the war, we’re lucky to have him, really. Joined a few months ago,” Noltie chuckled. You smiled and nodded awkwardly over your shoulder. You knew exactly who he was referring to.

There’d never really been any doubt in your mind that Noltie had been talking about Neville Longbottom, but the suspicion is confirmed immediately on your first day. You walked in, hair neatly up as was required (less for aesthetic reasons and more for safety against the various plants stocked that had a tendency to thrash), your uniform tailored to fit you perfectly, and saw him behind the counter. You had been dreading this moment since you realised you’d be working with him. You knew what he’d say to you, how he would call you brave for going against your house, how much he appreciated your efforts during the war, things like that, and you couldn’t be bothered to listen to it. You just wanted to stop thinking about the war, and all the things you’d had to do to survive, but it seemed too much to ask. You took a deep breath and approached him and he did just that. With a serious and sympathetic expression, he began to thank you and commend you. He stared quite intensely at you as he spoke, which made you admittedly uncomfortable, your eyes flickered around the store as he spoke.

“We barely had any Slytherins in the D.A. and I know some people gave you a hard time about it, so I think it’s–” he continued in his solemn voice. You squirmed in discomfort and decided to cut him off.

“Look, Longbottom, all the same to you, yeah? You’re a war hero and all that, so… that’s great, congratulations! Can you show me how the till works now?” you huffed. He blinked in surprise at your little outburst, before flushing slightly, clearly having realised he’d made you uncomfortable in some way, even if he’d only been trying to compliment you.

“Sorry, err… yeah…” he cleared his throat, showing you over to the till on the counter at the back of the store. You walked in front of him toward it and when you turned back to face him, you saw his eyes flick up and his flush deepen a little. You realise with a start that he’d been looking at your ass as you walked. These uniform trousers really were tailored perfectly, so you were sure he’d gotten a good view. You just smiled to yourself and filed the information away for later as he started to explain the machine to you.

The next few weeks go surprisingly well. Sure, you’re only working the till and shop floor rather than actually doing any research or fieldwork, but at least you’re in your desired field, and the work is quite easy. The shop is never terribly busy, and the people who do come in like to spend a while browsing and contemplating, meaning you get to tell them all you know about the plants they’re deciding between, which you find quite fun. Neville works mainly in the backroom, counting stock, moving boxes, and maintaining the plants that can’t be kept on the shop floor because they’re too dangerous or require certain temperature conditions. You help with inventory, letting him know what’s running low on the shelves and making notes of what needs to be ordered for Mr Noltie. Mostly, you’re out of each other’s ways, but that doesn’t mean you’re not highly aware of each other.

You knew Neville had changed over the years, every girl who’d been at Hogwarts was aware of it. You remembered quiet nights while the D.A. had been hiding out in the Room of Requirement, when a bunch of the girls would get together for some girl talk, trying hard to feel a sense of normalcy. Lavender Brown’s idea, which initially seemed silly, actually raised spirits quite a lot. You joined in, even though people were still rather wary of you, being one of only two Slytherins in the room, you mainly listened because of this. The girls huddled together in one corner of the room, while the boys chatted about who knows what in the other, and gossiped about the boys. There was hardly time for romance in the conditions you were in, which is perhaps why so much of it was happening, forced to stay together in one big room and fearing for your lives, you had overheard a lot you wish you never had. Neville ended up being the subject of a few of these conversations. He had changed a lot, becoming taller, broader and more handsome. He had also taken the role of the leader of the D.A., and many of the girls admitted that they quite liked the authoritative voice he used, which made everyone tease and giggle. He was nothing like the timid little boy he’d been for the first few years at Hogwarts, he was a man now, a strong, handsome man. However, no one ever reported any sort of action with him like they did with the other boys. At the time, he became sort of untouchable, which was odd considering he was Neville Longbottom.

These days, he was looking even better. His face was no longer so marred by the constant scrunch of stress as it had been during the war. He’d grown out his hair a little, rather than keeping it quite as short as he had during the war. He overall looked healthier, and even more muscular now that he was able to eat properly, his skin looking less pale and dull. Days of moving and stacking boxes in the backroom gave you plenty of time to subtly watch his muscles. He really was handsome now, though he didn’t seem to even realise this himself. Occasionally, when he’d be bringing stock out front for you to shelve, there’d be a woman in the store who would begin to flirt with him. He always seemed baffled and out of his depth, never flirting back and just trying to escape.

“What was that all about?” he asks you once, poking his head out of the backroom when she leaves. This woman had come onto him particularly strong, trying to touch his arm and invite him to the Leaky Cauldron.

“She was flirting with you,” you chuckle, sorting the coins into the till. He scoffs.

“No, she wasn’t,”

“Yes, she was,” you laugh in disbelief. He chews his lip.

“Only because of what I did during the war,” he dismisses, fiddling with his wand in his apron pocket. It amuses you how insecure he is. But he is partially right, he’s become a bit of a celebrity in the wizarding world, thanks to Harry Potter’s insistence on mentioning Neville’s contributions every time he’s interviewed about the war. Sometimes you think it’s selfishly motivated, wanting the world to focus on someone other than him so he can be left alone, and dumping it on poor shy Neville.

“That could be true I suppose, but I bet she’d still let you shag her,” you grin at him. Neville splutters.

“I… I don’t…” he runs his finger through the collar of his shirt. You chuckle at his reaction, enjoying teasing him like this. “That’s not… I wouldn’t do that…” he swallows thickly.

You’d discovered quickly that you had a certain power over Neville. At first, it was catching him occasionally staring. You’d be leaning on the counter, your ass jutting out slightly as you scribble down inventory notes and you’d glance at the door to the backroom, spotting him peering through the glass door. He’d immediately blush beet red and look away, clearly ashamed to have been caught staring at you. It was sweet, in a way, because most guys didn’t seem to have any shame in ogling at you, at least Neville seemed to know he shouldn’t be doing it, even if he couldn’t stop himself. Slowly, you start leaving more and more of your shirt buttons undone, revealing glimpses of your cleavage. You revel in the way his eyes constantly stray to you as he brings you boxes, taking shaky breaths as you bend over to pick up the little plant pots from the box and organise them onto the shelves. Whenever you talk, you take to standing just a little too close. His height gives you a perfect view down your top, and although he tries his best not to, he takes advantage of this fact often, his eyes flicking down and then his face going red. You like to innocently ask him if he’s feeling warm, which makes him stammer. It’s a bit of fun to fill your days, and quite an ego boost too. Every quiet moment in the shop you take to showing yourself off somehow, or even just chatting to him, which seems to fluster him too.

“You wouldn’t shag her? I thought she was cute…” you tease. He goes a deeper shade of red.

“She’s… it’s not… uh…” he stumbles. You smile, leaning yourself onto the counter in a way you know shows off your ass. His eyes flick immediately down your body and he goes redder, success. “I don’t… shag…” he coughs, looking mortified.

“What? Never? But you’re the saviour of the wizarding world!” you taunt, pretending to be shocked, when really it had become abundantly clear not long into working with him that despite how much his looks had changed, and his confidence in every other area, women still made him unbearably anxious, especially you.

“I- I mean I…” he stutters and then straightens up. “This is none of your business,” he asserts shakily. You shrug.

“Just curious about you,” you smile flirtatiously, watching as he blushes once more and avoids your eyes. “Do you never want to shag? Some people are like that and it’s perfectly fine–”

“No! I… uh… I do want… oh Merlin!” he groans, burying his face in his hands. You press on, pretending not to realise how uneasy he is, delighting in his discomfort.

“Well, then what was wrong with that girl? She was cute… more than willing…” you taunt, taking a few slow steps toward him now.

“She just… it’s not… I can’t just…” he stammers, eyes following you until you’re right in front of him. You catch his eyes flicking down to your cleavage. You smile.

“Are you a virgin, Neville?” you ask bluntly. He twitches anxiously.

“I’m not answering that,” he squeaks, but you both know that it’s answer enough. He sighs, seeing the smug way you’re smiling at him. “It’s just… the only girl I’ve ever liked enough to do that with didn’t feel the same, she… never wanted to do that sort of thing with anyone… like you were just talking about,” he mumbles, avoiding your eye.

“Luna?” you hum. He just nods. You’d heard about that through friends, his wartime confession and her confession that she did not experience romantic or sexual feelings for anyone. To many people, it had seemed a completely foreign concept. You imagined that, even though he’d been understanding, it had probably felt like another blow to his confidence.

“It’s… that’s over now… she’s my friend and I respect her… I don’t feel that way about her anymore…” he rambles. His eyes flicker over your face. You believe him, you touch his arm, making him tense.

“You poor thing,” you coo gently, rubbing your thumb over the bare skin of his arm, feeling the muscle underneath. “You must feel pathetic, saviour of the wizarding world, women lining up, and yet you’re still a virgin,” he jolts slightly, not expecting your words. He feels confused, your tone is sweet and soothing, but your words are insulting.

“I- I don’t, I’m fine,” he stammers, his cheeks red as he looks at you cautiously. What are you playing at? You pout and tilt your head.

“Poor baby,” you coo again, making him nervous.

“Why are you–?” he cut off when the bell above the door jingles, signalling a customer entering. You pull your hand away with a teasing smile, he just stares a little dumbly at you as you return to the till and greet the customer. He can’t help his eyes from straying to your ass, perfectly hugged by your uniform trousers. He’s never felt this crazy before, this overtaken by lust. He wants you and something about your faux-pity has made it worse. He hadn’t felt this way about Luna, he’d liked her first and foremost, he never ogled her like this, never felt this maddened by her simple presence. He forces himself to return to his work in the backroom.

You torture him the rest of the day. He knows you’re playing at something, but he’s not quite sure what. You keep flashing him mockingly sympathetic glances, showing off your body more than usual, touching him. You’re making excuses to come into the backroom, you’ve never been in here so many times in one shift before, perhaps even ever. Leaning over his shoulders, touching his back, stretching up to the top shelves in front of him. He’s oblivious, but he’s not completely blind and while he’s suspected before that you might have taken to teasing him, now he’s sure. After trying fruitlessly to avoid you most of the day, he gives in toward the end, letting himself admire your body and enjoy your closeness. He’s had a few relentless flirts at his neck since graduating from Hogwarts, but you feel different. Most girls flirt with him because they think he’s something special, something big that will help them earn fame and get them in the Daily Prophet. You flirt like you think he’s a pathetic little puppy dog, and perhaps he should take offence from it, but instead, it makes him need you even more. Because it’s what he is, he’s not big and strong when it comes to this, he feels small and he needs someone who understands that, which you seem to, in your own roundabout way.

He helps you close up the shop, at your request, which is something he only usually does on particularly busy days, yet he knows the question is coming. You pout at him sweetly and ask for help and he comes running. As a thank you, you lean over as you count up the day's purchases, emphasising your chest and not commenting when he stares and blushes. He wouldn’t mind being compensated like this more often. He sweeps up the soil that’s accumulated on the floor from the various pots being moved around. Technically it’s your job, but how can he say no when you look at him like that and push your tits together just so?

You’re still double-checking the accounts when he goes into the back room again. He checks on all the special plants, making sure nothing is wrong, before moving toward the little cupboards in the corner of the room. He washes his hands and unties his apron slowly. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he sighs. You’ve been driving him crazy today. The subtle way you mocked him made him so needy for you even though he should hate you for it, he didn’t want to psychoanalyse that. He hears you enter but does his best to ignore you, you never usually talk at the end of your shifts, usually too tired and eager to get home to bother small talking. You wash your hands and remove your apron too, hanging it up by the door, your name tag facing forward. You feel his eyes on your ass again, which makes you smile to yourself.

“Is that why you stare at me so much?” you taunt, being purposefully vague. You glance over your shoulder at him. He’s bright red and chewing his lip.

“What?” he croaks.

“Because you’re a virgin? Is that why you stare so much? My ass in these trousers is the best view you’ve been allowed?” you mock, cooing as if you’re being sympathetic. He hates that you know, but he knows he hasn’t at all been subtle enough for it to be a shock. He just takes a shaky breath.

“I’m so-sorry, really… I don’t—“ he pulls nervously at his shirt. Godric it’s hot in here. You stalk closer.

“Poor thing, can’t control yourself around me, can you, hm?” you ridicule him, stalking closer with those dark seductive eyes. He realises you’re backing him into a wall as he takes a clumsy step back, moments away from hitting the hard surface. He swallows hard and you come closer, pressing your chest to his, emphasising the curve of your breasts. He can’t help but look, even if only for a split second. “Can you?” you prompt again, your voice lower.

“No,” he chokes. You laugh, low and mocking.

“No… you can’t control yourself around me… you pathetic little thing,” you finally backed him against the wall. He looks nervous, but you can feel his hardening arousal against your stomach. You shift yourself slightly, making him gasp and harden even more. You look up at him, smirking, the irony of belittling him in this way doesn't even matter, because you feel powerful and he feels small in this moment. You reach up and trace his cheek, making him shiver and his eyes flutter. “Poor little loser,” he whines loudly at that, and you watch carefully to see if you’ve actually hurt his feelings or not. When his eyes flicker open again, his pupils are wildly dilated and he looks desperate. You smile and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I am,” he whimpers. You’re surprised to hear him talk, but you let him, caressing his cheek in a mocking gesture. “I don’t want to be pathetic but I am, I can’t— do this sort of stuff,” he laments. “What kind of freak am I? Getting off to you calling me a loser?” you giggle at him and he laughs slightly too, looking down at the ground, not before glancing once more at your tits.

“You just want someone to see you for who you are and want you anyway, not put you on some pedestal,” you hum. He blinks at you. That actually… made sense. He glances up at you. “Isn’t that pathetic of you?” you tease with a smile and you both laugh a little.

“Yeah, Godric… I really am pathetic,” he chuckles quietly, watching you.

“A complete loser,” you chuckle, leaning up to kiss him. He squeaks, taken completely off guard by your lips on his. You fist your hands into the material of his shirt, forcing him to lean down to your level to kiss you. He kisses back, desperate and shaky. He pants into the kiss, already feeling a little dizzy. Your hand is reaching down and brushing feather-light against the bulge in his trousers before he can register what’s going on. His hips stutter and he whines against your lips. “So pitiful, barely even touching you and you’re whining,” you mock, brushing your fingers up and down the bulge, slow and teasing. His hands come to grip at your waist, exhaling shakily against you. “So needy,” you chuckle, pulling back and pouting at him.

“Y-yeah,” his eyes flit all over your face. You smirk up at him, trailing your hands down his body as you move to kneel in front of him. He gasps, his hands falling to his sides, chest heaving. He stares down at you, wide-eyed. He mumbles your name in question, wondering if this is really happening. You reach up, still smirking and pop to the button of his trousers. “Ah… oh Merlin…” he exhales, his eyes closing. You gently tug his trousers down and then lean forward, nuzzling your nose against the bulge in his boxers. You watch as his face twists in pleasure, a strangled gasp on his lips. He leans his head back against the wall as you press barely there kisses along his twitching length through the fabric. “This can’t be happening right now,” he pants, pushing his hips towards your face.

“Don’t you want it to?” you tease, gently licking the wet spot on the fabric, making him gasp.

“I— yes I want it but—this doesn’t happen… to me…” he groans as you slip down his boxers, springing him free. He stares down nervously now, no one has seen him like this before. You just smirk up at him, gently massaging his thighs.

“You want it?” you taunt, gently blowing on his length, making him twitch and buck.

“Nngh— yes,”

“Then beg me,” you grin. “Show me how pathetic you are for me,” he stares down at you, chest heaving, heart pounding so hard you can watch his pulse. He should feel humiliated, but the pre-cum dripping from his tip tells the both of you the reality. You lean up, placing soft open-mouthed kisses against his length, making him inhale sharply. “Beg me,” you sing-song between kisses.

“P-please,” he gasps. “Please, I’m pathetic, I need this so bad… I’ve never– ah–!” you cut him off by licking a stripe up his length. He dissolves into a string of shaky moans as you wrap your lips around his tip, softly suckling. He’s never felt this amazing before. He fights to open his eyes and look down at you, needing the visual of you doing this committed to his memory desperately, even though he knows it will likely haunt his every waking thought from today onwards. You look smug, even on your knees in front of him, and he knows you have him wrapped around your finger. He tries uselessly to dig his nails into the wall for purchase, watching as you slowly envelop more and more of him into the heavenly heat of your mouth. Your head bobs slowly, torturously slow, up and down the length of him. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you take a gentle hold of with your hand. Your tongue swirls and laves against him within your mouth, making his hips buck toward you. You immediately withdraw, making him sob.

“You just can’t control yourself, can you?” you chastise harshly. “Needy and brainless,” he nods along because he really can’t help but think you’re right.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll control myself, I will, please… I need you,” he wails. You look unimpressed, slowly teasing your hand up and down his shaft. He whines, melting against the wall. “Please…” he whispers. His voice is entirely wrecked and he already looks thoroughly debauched by you, you find the image exciting. When he glances down at you with those pleading wide eyes, you can’t deny him any longer. As a final teasing act, you lean in and gently kitten lick at his slit for a moment, tasting the salty sweetness accumulating there. You feel him trying to twitch in your hand, his head falling back again and desperate groans leaving his throat. You take him as deep down into your throat as he will go, gagging just a little, and start to bob your head again. His fingers curl, and you can tell he wants to grab your hair, but he’s being good, you keep in mind to tell him he was good later. Your lips slide up and down his length, using your tongue to swirl and add an extra layer of stimulation. He’s very vocal, whining, whimpering, groaning, completely ruined. You stare up at him as you gently swallow around him. His eyes squeeze further shut and his hips cant forward, making you gag a little, but you do it again. He gasps loudly and his hands start to flail, smacking against the wall. You only realise he was trying to warn you between strangled moans when you feel the warm spurt of his release in your mouth. You swallow it down as he frantically withdraws himself from you, crying as he rides out the feeling of his orgasm, his legs shaking. He feels like he’s left his body and ascended to heaven, this was why all his friends were so crazy about sex. He got it now. Once he’s returned to himself a little, he falls to his knees in front of you. “I’m so sorry, I tried to warn you but I felt so good, I-” he fusses. “I’m so sorry, th-thank you,” he whimpers, wiping a tiny bit of cum from the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,”

“It’s fine,” you dismiss him as he holds your face and thanks you over and over. It amuses you how wrecked he is. “It’s alright, Neville,” you chuckle in disbelief, leaning forward and pecking his lips. He can vaguely taste himself on your lips, even without you opening your mouth, and it makes him groan. He chases your lips as you pull away, opening his eyes to give you a puppy-dog look.

“Merlin … I really am pathetic,” he swallows and then laughs nervously, leaning back against the wall, smiling sheepishly as you tuck him back into his boxers. You sit on your knees in front of him and he stares at you, half in awe, half in apprehension. “Are you going to tell people about this?” he questions, slightly anxious, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“No, I can’t lose my job, we’ve just broken a bunch of rules, you realise?” you tease and he smiles slightly.

“Are we going to do this again? Or you know… something else?” he glances at your body, feeling a little bad he couldn’t do anything to make you feel like he just did.

“Maybe, maybe not, you’ll just have to wait and see,” you taunt, pecking his cheek and rising to your feet. He cranes his neck to watch as you fetch your bag and coat. You glance at him over your shoulder, seeing him sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, looking dazed and ruined. You can’t help but giggle, the sound stirring his stomach again. “See you soon, Longbottom,” you blow a mocking kiss and leave. He stares after you, both glad you’re gone so he can process what just happened, and also wishing you were never away from him again.

Tomorrow at work was either going to be heaven or hell on earth, and he found himself eager to find out.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

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teaforthotxxx · 1 year ago

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I feel like Professor Regulus Black would be such a shit once Harry starts playing quidditch. Like sure thats his son but fuck Gryffindors. As the head of Slytherin house, he would show up to Harry’s games in full silver and green. He stands in the Slytherin stands with giant banners for Slytherin. It annoys Harry to no end. Because he knows Reggie loves him but Harry is a Gryffindor and he wants more support for Gryffindor.

Harry would beg Remus to dress up in Red and gold but of course be wouldn’t. Professor Lupin doesn’t care about Quidditch. Harry goes as far as to beg Minerva Mcgonagall to dress up but none of the Gryffindor professors are willing to break dress code for this.

But, then, he gets an idea right before the Christmas Quidditch games. He knows that he may not convince his professors to dress up but there is one way to make them wear what he wants. So, he commissions two giant couple scarves from Mrs Molly Weasley. Both red and gold. He gives them to his dad James Potter and his godfather Sirius Black as early Christmas presents. Then, he asks them to wear them to his game.

AND just as he planned, he sees Remus and Sirius in the Gryffindor stands wrapped in a giant scarf. Remus looks begrudging but he can’t resist how happy it makes Sirius. Then, Harry swoops past the Slytherin stands, he finds Regulus and James snuggled in one giant red and gold scarf. They are still in slytherin but the banners have changed to “Go Harry!” and “THATS OUR SON!”. James was such a sap he wanted them to wear couples costumes and as Gryffindor’s previous headboy, he just HAD to wear red and gold. So, Reg was wearing his old quidditch jersey cute gold rings with rubies.

Harry is so proud he pulled one over Regulus. But, more importantly, he can’t stop laughing at the shocked expressions on Malfoy’s and Zabini’s faces!!

#harry potter #hp fic #marauders #marauders era #james potter #remus lupin #jegulus #peter pettigrew #sirius black #wolfstar #hp lore #headcanon #quidditch #minerva mcgonagall #molly weasley #draco malfoy #blaise zabini

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stargirlstabber · 4 months ago

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i know i am spamming but i warned you-oops

Gently warming up their Lovers hands during the winter with Theodore Nott BUT he is the one with the cold hands…- bye 🫡

babes, again and again, spam me, i love it🫶🏻 lmao as someone who rarely freezes i can sooo relate to that, to everyone around you getting cold hands and you're there just like- hm. cool. very nice.

cold hands

featuring. theodore nott

snow was falling as the cold winter months reached the magic school. everyone was wrapped up in blankets, jackets, and scarves, not letting the cold air touch them. the slytherin house was no exception to that, y'all sitting in the common room, trying to warm up your bodies while spending some time together.

theo was sitting on the couch, your place was on his lap, sitting sideways and leaning into your boyfriend. across from you were mattheo and draco slouched into the soft cushions, mindlessly chatting with theo and blaise, who sat next to the two of you.

the fire crackled, pushing soothing warmth into the dark room although it didn't really do it's job right. you couldn't help but nothing theo rubbing his hands together, here and there blowing some hot air onto them.

so the good girlfriend you are, you wordlessly took his big hands as you spread your thighs a little, pushing his cold palms in between and closing your legs again. your boyfriend just smirked at you, leaning forward to press his soft lips against your shoulder.

his hands shall not get cold that evening...

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latenightreadingpdf · 2 months ago

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Hold Me - James Potter

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: After a hard-fought Quidditch match against Slytherin, Gryffindor’s loss hits James Potter harder than anyone expected. With the defeat weighing heavily on him, Y/N stays behind to offer comfort while his friends try to lift his spirits.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The stands were packed with students, their scarves and banners waving frantically as Gryffindor and Slytherin faced off in what was bound to be one of the most intense matches of the season. Y/N sat in the Gryffindor section of the stands, nestled next to Remus Lupin. He had a book in his lap, though he wasn’t reading it, his amber eyes fixed on the pitch below.

"Come on, James," Y/N muttered, her gaze darting between James Potter and Regulus Black. The two Seekers were neck and neck, their brooms weaving in and out of the players below as they chased after the elusive Golden Snitch.

Remus nodded silently, his lips pursed. "They’re so close." His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edges of his book, though he had abandoned any pretence of reading. He hadn’t turned a page in the past half hour.

Y/N could feel the tension in the air, thick like a storm cloud. Every single student in the stands was on edge, watching intently as the Seekers danced through the air. Gryffindor’s hopes rested on James catching the Snitch, but Regulus wasn’t going to let it go easily. Y/N's heart raced as she watched the two of them twist and turn in midair, the tiny golden ball barely a blur in the distance.

James and Regulus were neck and neck, brooms darting dangerously close as they sped through the maze of players. There was a collective gasp from the crowd as they narrowly avoided colliding with a pair of Beaters who were too absorbed in their own skirmish to notice the Seekers darting past.

“They’re going to crash if they’re not careful,” Y/N whispered, her hands clasping tightly together as anxiety bubbled in her chest. She could see the raw determination on James’s face, his hair windswept and wild as he leaned forward on his broom, pushing it to its limits. His focus was entirely on the Snitch, completely oblivious to anything else on the pitch.

Suddenly, something strange happened. James’s broom jerked unnaturally, wobbling violently as if an invisible hand had grabbed it. It veered off course, and for a split second, Y/N thought he might be able to regain control, but the broom jerked again, this time harder. It twisted sharply to the left, causing James to lose his balance. His fingers gripped the handle tightly, knuckles white, as he struggled to steady it.

The crowd gasped, and Y/N instinctively grabbed Remus’s arm, her nails digging into his sweater. James fought to steady his broom, his face set in determination, but it was no use.

“Merlin’s beard,” Remus muttered under his breath. “That’s not normal. Someone’s messing with his broom.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She had seen something like this before—the time during their second year when Professor McGonagall had to stop a match because someone had tampered with one of the school brooms. But this time, it was worse. It wasn’t just a Slytherin ploy to distract James; it was sabotage.

Regulus, on the other hand, seized the opportunity. With a final burst of speed, the Slytherin Seeker shot forward and snatched the Snitch from the air. The whistle blew, and the Slytherin section erupted in wild cheers. Their green and silver banners waved triumphantly as they celebrated their victory.

“Slytherin wins!” the announcer’s voice boomed, but all Y/N could hear were the groans and disappointed mutterings of the Gryffindors around her.

Remus exhaled slowly. “That was… unexpected,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he watched James struggle to bring his broom back down to the ground. Y/N's chest tightened with frustration. She knew something had happened to James’s broom—probably Slytherin sabotage—but there was no proof.

As the Gryffindor team trudged off the pitch, heads hung low, the cheers from the Slytherin stands rang in her ears. The energy in the Gryffindor stands had drained, leaving behind a dull silence, broken only by scattered conversations about what had just happened.

“Bloody cheats,” Mary Macdonald muttered, standing next to Lily Evans, her hands clenched into fists. “There’s no way that was an accident. They did something to his broom. You saw how it was jerking around.”

Lily nodded in agreement, her eyes filled with concern as she watched James descend toward the ground. “I don’t know how, but they definitely did something. James should have caught that Snitch.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas said, wrapping her scarf more tightly around her neck as the evening air grew colder. “You could see it from up here. There’s no way his broom would just do that on its own.”

The rest of the Gryffindors in the stands had already started to file out, but Y/N and her friends lingered. Marlene McKinnon, the Gryffindor Chaser, was the last to leave the field. Her shoulders were slumped, her expression dejected as she trudged toward them, her broom dragging behind her.

“Marlene!” Lily called out, hurrying forward to meet her. The group closed in around Marlene, pulling her into a big, warm hug.

“You played great,” Mary said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas added. “That broom business was total rubbish.”

Marlene gave them a weak smile, her eyes filled with exhaustion. “Thanks, but it still sucks.”

“It’s not your fault,” Y/N said, stepping closer and resting a hand on Marlene’s shoulder. “It was Slytherin cheating. You did the best you could. James knows it too.”

Marlene gave a small nod, but the disappointment in her eyes was hard to shake. She had given everything during that match, and losing like this felt like a punch to the gut.

“Let’s head back to the dorms,” Lily suggested, glancing around at the emptying stands. “We can have a girls’ night, yeah? Chocolate, pyjamas, the works.”

Y/N gave Marlene’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Go on. I’ll wait here for James and Sirius.”

Marlene nodded, a bit of the sadness lifting from her face as the group began to make their way back toward the castle. Y/N watched them go, then turned back to the pitch, waiting patiently as the last few stragglers left the stands.

After a few minutes, the locker room door creaked open. Sirius Black emerged, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be seen. His shoulders were tense, and his dark hair was damp from the post-match shower. The moment Y/N saw him, she stood up and hurried over.

“Sirius,” she called softly.

He looked up, his grey eyes dull with frustration, but before he could say anything, Y/N pulled him into a tight hug. “You were brilliant out there,” she whispered, her voice soothing. “It wasn’t your fault, and you know it.”

Sirius sighed, wrapping his arms around her in return, though his grip wasn’t as firm as usual. “Thanks, Y/N,” he muttered, but his voice was distracted. He pulled back slightly, glancing over at Remus, who was watching quietly from a few feet away.

Remus stood up and offered Sirius a small smile. Sirius walked over to him, and without a word, Remus pulled him into another hug. Unlike Y/N’s brief embrace, Sirius stayed in Remus’s arms longer, resting his head on his shoulder for a moment longer than necessary.

Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight, the quiet beginning of something unspoken passing between the two boys. She could feel it, even if they didn’t realise it yet.

Once they pulled away, Sirius rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “James… isn’t doing great. He’s pissed—mostly at himself—and he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’ll probably take a while to come out.”

Y/N frowned, worry creeping into her chest. “That bad?”

Sirius nodded. “He blames himself for losing. Thinks he should’ve been able to fight whatever Slytherin did to his broom.”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Remus. “He’ll come out when he’s ready,” she said.

Sirius gave a faint nod, looking relieved that someone would be there for his best friend. “We should head back. He’ll be fine eventually.”

As they made their way back to the castle, Y/N walked beside Sirius, linking her arm through his, offering comfort. The three of them didn’t say much, but their presence was enough to calm the disappointment that hung in the air.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Later that night, Y/N walked into the Gryffindor common room, the warmth of the fireplace casting a soft glow over the space. Sirius and Remus were sitting on one of the couches, close together, wrapped in cozy jumpers. Their heads were bent in quiet conversation, the firelight flickering over their faces.

“Is James back yet?” Y/N asked, approaching them.

Remus nodded. “Yeah, he’s upstairs. Hasn’t come down since.”

Y/N sighed and leaned down to give each of them a quick hug, planting a kiss on their cheeks. “I’m going to check on him.”

Sirius nodded, his eyes following her as she made her way to the boys’ dormitory stairs. “Good luck,” he called after her.

Climbing the stairs, Y/N reached James’s door and knocked gently. There was a pause before she heard his muffled voice from the other side.

“Go away, Sirius.”

“It’s me, James.”

Silence followed, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if he was going to answer. But then she heard the soft click of the door unlocking, and it creaked open.

James stood there, his glasses slightly askew and his eyes red-rimmed from crying. Tear tracks marked his cheeks, his face crumpling the moment he saw her.

“Oh, Jamie,” Y/N whispered, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. She pulled him into her arms, and James buried his face in her neck, his breath shaky as he tried to hold back more tears.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Y/N said softly, running her hands up and down his back, offering comfort. She guided him over to the bed, sitting down and keeping him close. James wrapped his arms around her, holding on as if she were the only thing grounding him.

“Is there anything I can do?” Y/N asked, her voice gentle as she played with his messy hair.

James shook his head against her chest. “Just… just hold me, please.”

“Come here.” Y/N said as she leaned back, pulling him with her until they were lying on the bed. His head rested on her chest, his body curled up beside her as his arms stayed wrapped around her waist.

Y/N smiled softly, her hands threading through his dark hair, massaging his scalp in slow, soothing strokes. She could feel the tension in his body begin to ease as he relaxed into her touch.

After a while, James’s breathing evened out, his grip on her loosening slightly as sleep began to pull him under. Just before he drifted off, he mumbled in a low, sleepy voice, “Godric, I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with warmth, and she pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I’m lucky to have you too, Jamie.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

#fanfic #fluff #james potter #marauders #dead gay wizards from the 70s #marauders era #the marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james #hurt/comfort #gryffindor #james x oc #james x reader #james x you #james x y/n #quidditch

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icejello · 2 years ago

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So after a long while of not associating with the HP fandom, i had to do the research again for the houses and i was reading this and i think I've decided on the houses. I would also like to thank you guys for the suggestions in the comments! This would be a long post so if anyone is curious with my choices, you can check it below the cut and there'll be some short explanations.

For Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan, he will be Slytherin. He's ambitious (even if it's only to survive), cunning and resourceful (he adapts to his situation quick and uses everything he can to his advantage and schemes for his own survival) and he's determined (again to survive yes). He has the machiavellian tendencies, a tendency to surround himself with powerful ppl to ensure his safety and well we can clearly see his discrimination or at least the way he views ppl who seem to be less in terms of IQ (yes i am aware he doesn't openly hates and discriminate them, I'm simply mentioning the thoughts)

For Shang Qinghua, I'm going to give you guys what you want and make him a Slytherin too. He fits in Hufflepuff too bcs of his loyalty and dedication but he gets to be in Slytherin bcs he too, is ambitious, determined and resourceful just like SQQ. He takes pride in his works despite not many people appreciating it, he was still proud of PIDW despite having to succumb to the peer pressure and not being able to write it in the way he actually wants to. He's not afraid to do what it takes in order to survive and is cunning.

For Mobei-Jun, I can see why you guys say he would fit in Hufflepuff due to how much he values loyalty but he has too much conflicting personality to fit in there so I'm putting him in Gryffindor. He is courageous and daring as seen in the Moshang extra despite the extreme risk there is for him to inherit the power without a guard. Even when he wasn't in a good condition, he still tried his best to protect SQH and stand up against his uncle. MBJ is also quite the hot-headed person and could be pretty reckless as seen a few times. He also could be a bit arrogant about himself.

Last but not least we have Luo Binghe and despite the many suggestions I see ppl give for what suits him, I'm going with the one that nobody suggested and it is Ravenclaw. Why Ravenclaw? LBH is actually quite the intelligent person, SQQ mentions how LBH has read every book in SQQ's house and he has a curiosity to learn new things. He catches up to new things that he learns fast and he still progressed nicely even with the wrong textbook given to him. He figures things out fast (example: figuring out the SQQ in his dream is the actual SQQ and other stuffs) and easily catches on SQQ's lies (we see SQQ mentioning how LBH knows he was lying bcs he has read all the books in the bamboo house and knows what SQQ just said was never mentioned in any of the books). He has a uh 'creative' way to solve his problems and his individuality could easily be seen bcs he does what he wants whenever he wants (unless it involves his shizun but its not like its that hard to make him succumb). LBH is also someone who pretty much disconnects himself from the outside world and only cares about life with his shizun and purposefully isolates himself from others as seen by the cottagecore life he has with SQQ. Lastly, he could be pretty arrogant about himself and his abilities and gets jealous due to his insecurities and other things easily which easily sets off his anger.

Okay svsss fandom give me your thoughts

So i was thinking about that scene where sqq jokingly asks the system if it ever worked with the harry potter franchise before and got inspired to write a harry potter au for svsss. The characters that would be involved are bingqiu and moshang but i can't figure out what Hogwarts house they would be in so do tell me your ideas.

How the story would go?

Basically the system malfunctions and suddenly transmigrated the 4 of them into the Harry Potter world. They can only escape if they help protect Harry and figure out who's the evil person trying to kill him (it's going to be centered in book 1). The problem? None of them knows about Harry Potter and so they're in a panic trying to solve who the evil person is without realizing Harry practically could not be killed because of the prophecy.

#svsss #moshang #bingqiu #harry potter au #i'm just rambling at this point bcs i have no friend that reads svsss and i always need to ramble to somebody about my ideas and stuff #i'd tell my friend that i always talk about interests that we don't have in common but she wouldn't really understand #anyways SQQ and SQH being roommates would make it easier for them to scheme together but they would fight sooo much #their other roommates are just tired of listening them argue so much #meanwhile their respective husbands are just pissed they're separated from them #it doesn't bother MBJ that much tho bcs he for some reason is still good at sneaking in and appearing on SQH's bed #it freaks and causes a LOT of commotion among the other slytherins bcs 'WHY IS A GRYFFINDOR HERE'#moshang exchange scarves bcs i think mobei would dislike the red and gold and prefers qinghua's silver and green #it confuses ppl bcs qinghua being a gryffindor makes sense by appearance but you're telling them the cold mysterious one is the gryffindor?#at some point the slytherins just accept the gryffindor and ravenclaw that keeps sneaking into their dorm #mostly bcs they also fit in well with the other slytherins #the 4 of them being classmates would annoy their other classmates so much #bcs first you have this one slytherin that just looks tired and stressed and the ravenclaw always follows him around #why does the absolutely handsome student always follows that slytherin while acting absolutely pathetic and crying shizun every second #and then there's the slytherin and gryffindor duo where the slytherin always seems to get bullied by the other #they look like master and servant of some kind but then if anyone tries to approach the other then they would be so incredibly protective #and why are the 4 of them always seem to be closely paying extra attention to the Boy Who Lived????

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fandomnerd9602 · 3 months ago

Text

Tricks & Treats

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

It was one of your favorite holidays. And it was your first with the twins, your boys, Billy and Tommy. You and Wanda were able to spend last Halloween together as a couple, now you get to spend it as a family unit. And you couldn’t be happier.

You had set up a Halloween party for all the volunteers and hybrids at the sanctuary. Natasha took the initiative and led the charge on it. Pietro was so happy that he was going to be able to spend the day with Natasha and America, the little girl who had quickly stolen their hearts.

Billy and Tommy were excited that they were gonna go trick or treating with their momma, poppa, uncle and their best friend America. They had a field day browsing the aisles of the local store, looking for their costumes. But after two hours trying to locate a perfect costume, they were left tired.

“Poppa” Billy whines, “I can’t find a costume”

“Neither can I” Tommy huffs.

Your eyes wander to a certain section of the costume store. “I think I got the perfect costume for us and Momma too” you smile.

Wanda found herself setting up pumpkins and hanging little witch decorations.

Pietro and America were running around. Pietro was wearing a big bad wolf costume while America was wearing a little red riding hood outfit.

Natasha giggles at the sight as she helps Wanda with the decor.

“Looks like you have your own little pack going on” Wanda motions to the scene before her friend.

“America’s a young pup and I…I always wanted one” Natasha admits with a blush. “Piet’s a good mate too.”

“I’m proud of you, Nattie”

Natasha blushes about as brightly as her hair. It felt good to be supported.

You and the boys came running into the courtyard. You had four bags full of costumes and props as your boys hugged their momma tight.

“Poppa found the perfect costumes!” Tommy explains.

“What?” Wanda giggles.

“I figured you and I were such big fans and…” you pulled out Hogwarts robes and scarves.

“Detka!” Wanda giggles, “it’s perfect! Slytherin for me.”

“I call dibs on Gryffindor!” Billy exclaims.

“I’m a total Ravenclaw!” Tommy chimes in.

“And im a Hufflepuff” you smile as you wrap a Slytherin scarf around your mate’s neck. She gives you a quick peck to your nose.

The Halloween party was in full swing. Natasha was dressed as a huntswoman, ready to hunt herself a big bad wolf.

The big bad wolf in question, Pietro, was currently serving punch to America and the boys.

You and Wanda were dancing together in the dance floor. Her deer tail stuck out thru the back of her robes.

She giggles as she pulls you close, “enjoying Halloween detka?”

“You’re the only treat I need” you whisper in her ear. You kiss her jawline, she shutters to your touch.

“Well after the party tonight I have quite the trick for you” she gives a quick wink.

You got your mate, your boys, a pretty rocking Halloween party and all the love one could ever need. It was a happy Halloween indeed.

Tags @lifespectator @olsenmyolsen @texaswolf23 @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @aloneodi @julieromanoff @multi-fandom-enjoyer @idkwhatever580

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spaceyaceface · 2 years ago

Text

Snow, Scarves, and Schemes

Sebastian Sallow x f!Reader (unspecified Hogwarts House)

Word Count: 14.8k (oops)

Content Warnings: Slight angst

Summary: 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.

Or, the classic friends to lovers, idiots in love, fake dating scenario.

Also available on AO3

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Y/N paced back and forth nervously in the Undercroft. This was a stupid idea. Utterly rubbish. She considered going back to her common room, but knew it was already too late–she’d sent him an owl, after all. A bloody owl with a bloody note asking for help and to meet her in the Undercroft. She couldn’t flee now; he’d just track her down and badger her about later.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door to the Undercroft opened with the boy she was waiting for waltzing through. He’d shot up in height the summer after their fifth year—he now nearly had to duck coming in the doorway. He’d been a twig for a brief moment after his growth spurt (a fact that Y/N had taken to her advantage and teased him with) but he had quickly filled out in the months that followed. Now, Sebastian Sallow stood tall and broad before her, the changes from the last two years evident to her eyes. It made her feel a little intimidated. Not that Sebastian himself was intimidating—she knew him too well to ever fear him. And he knew her well enough that she wouldn’t put up with any of his nonsense. The last two years of friendship had made them very close—of everyone in Hogwarts, Sebastian was easily the person she trusted the most, despite some of the difficulties throughout their time together. He’d really come far in proving himself redeemed—the fact that Anne now spoke to him attesting to his progress. It was her trust in him that led to this moment now.

“I got your owl, what’s happened?” He’d seen her nervous only a handful of times before. For the most part, Y/N was a girl who didn’t let things get to her—she made a habit of running headfirst into danger, thinking of the consequences only in passing. So, the way she was wringing her hands was most unusual. “You said you needed help, are the poachers back around Hogwarts?”

She shook her head quickly, finally meeting her eyes. “No, nothing like that. It’s just—oh this is stupid, I shouldn’t have sent that owl—”

“Too late,” Sebastian teased. “I know something’s afoot, I won’t rest until I find out what it is.”

“I know, I know!” She sighed. “You can’t laugh, alright?”

A signature smirk settled on his face. “No promises.”

She groaned. “Look, you know Leander Prewett, right?”

The events leading up to Y/N’s hastily scribbled note came back full force. Leander had followed her from her Herbology class down to Potions. Most of the time, Y/N had Sebastian and Ominis by her side, and could quickly dismiss the arrogant Gryffindor. But today, Sebastian had ‘accidently’ spilled a bag of dung all over Garreth Weasley’s feet, and Professor Garlick had insisted Sebastian stay behind to clean it up. Poor Ominis, guilty only by association, had been roped in as well. So Leander had taken his chance and walked out of the classroom with Y/N.

Because their conversations were usually cut off by Y/N running off to Sebastian and Ominis, Leander would typically ask how she was, make some snide remark about a Slytherin, and then ask her out. Sometimes she answered with a simple “No, thank you,” sometimes she made excuses of how busy she was, and sometimes, when she was really at her wit’s end, she’d pretend she hadn’t heard the question before claiming she saw Ominis’s blond hair up ahead and running off. But today she couldn’t find a reason to run.

And so, Leander strode up to her in the hall. “How are you, Y/N?”

“Just fine, thank you,” she stated simply, not even meeting eyes with the red-headed boy.

“Pretty low of Sallow to dump that dung all over. Typical Slytherin. Serves him right to have to clean it all up.”

She didn’t give him a reply this time, electing to roll her eyes instead. The whole Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry had always seemed pointless and melodramatic to her, though she had to admit she disliked it coming from Leander a lot more than hearing it from Sebastian or Ominis.

“What would you say to a trip to the Three Broomsticks with me this weekend, eh? My treat, of course. Could make a date of it.”

She let out a sigh. “I’d say no thank you, Leander.”

He scowled a bit. It was no secret to the majority of the students in their year that Leander had been chasing after Y/N for some time now. Ever since she became the “hero of Hogwarts” (a title she loathed to be remembered by), he’d had his eye on her. She had always felt it was less than actual attraction and more of a claim to fame that had him on her tail. But he was persistent.

“Why won’t you let me take you out, Y/N? We could end up enjoying ourselves, you know. I pride myself in being good company.”

“Because I don’t want to , Leander.” She was growing exasperated with him quickly.

“Want to? Or don’t think you can?” Leander frowned at her. “I know your friends with Sallow, and if I’d hazard a guess, I’d say he’s trying to poison you against me.”

She stopped walking, aghast. “I’d say it’s yourself who led to any ill-feelings I have toward you.”

“Then why not give a chance at settling some of those ill-feelings?”

Her fists clenched at her sides, and before she knew what she was saying, the words came tumbling out of her mouth—the words she almost immediately grew to regret.

And now in the present, Sebastian's eyes narrowed. “That prat? What about him?”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his sour reaction. “Well, it’s to do with him. You see, he keeps asking me out—”

“You’re not planning on saying yes, are you?” he asked, an edge to his voice. Ah, that Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry.

“Of course not! Like you said, he’s a prat. A prat who won’t take no for an answer. Well, at least he wouldn’t, until I told him was already seeing someone…” She bit her lip, looking away from him.

Sebastian’s eyebrows raised. “You’re seeing someone? That’s news to him and me both, though I thought as your best friend I’d be a bit more entitled to that information.”

“That’s the whole problem, Sebastian! I’m not seeing anyone. I just needed a way to get him off my back, and now he’s suspicious, it was obvious he didn’t believe me—”

She was interrupted by a laugh. Sebastian was holding his arms over his stomach, nearly bent in half with the laughter shaking his body.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I said no such thing.” He stood up straight again, still chuckling. “So, you need someone to pretend to be courting you, is that it?”

She blushed deeply, covering her face with her hands. “Yes, Sebastian. That’s what I need help with.”

“Well, I’m honored.” He grinned ear to ear. “What made you choose me over Ominis, if I may ask?”

“For one, most everyone has heard he’s courting Anne now, which would add some tension if he was supposedly courting both of us—”

“Ah, right,” Sebastian conceded. Ominis and Anne’s developing relationship was rather new, one that had completely blindsided Sebastian (which was ridiculous in Y/N’s opinion, she could see it from a mile away. The protective twin had simply been in denial), though he had approved nonetheless.

“And secondly, to be quite frank, Prewett… has a stronger distaste for you than for Ominis. I figured it would throw him off his game a bit more.”

“Strategic. I like it.” He clapped his hands together. “So, when do we start?”

Y/N brightened. “You’ll help me then?”

“Of course. You’re my best friend, Y/N, I’m happy to keep a slimy chap like Prewett off your back any day.”

She launched herself forward, tackling Sebastian in a hug. “Oh, thank you! You’re bloody brilliant, you know that?”

He gave a sly smile. “‘Course I do, though it’s nice to be reminded of it now and again.”

The two sat side by side, snacking on some of the nicked food they’d stored in the Undercroft. After practicing spells for a bit, they had gotten hungry and decided to take a break. Y/N broke a roll she was holding in half, setting one part into Sebastian’s outstretched hand. It was an unspoken system between them—always sharing what they ate.

“So,” Sebastian said between bites. “We should probably discuss the details of our arrangement, shouldn’t we?”

She glared at him. “You want some sort of payment for it?”

He put his hands up in surrender. “Not at all. I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. And seeing Prewett’s humiliated face.” He smiled at the chuckle this brought out of her. “I meant things like how long we plan to ‘court’, or how we want to go about… displaying it.”

She nodded, thinking. “Well, the Yule Ball is coming up. I think it’s part of why he’s upping his game.”

He hummed in agreement. “That’s in what, three weeks, is it?”

“Precisely. I figured we could court until a few days before the ball, then ‘break it off’. That way, you could ask whoever you wanted to be your date, and I could attend with Ominis as he helps me through my devastating heartbreak, like the true friend he is.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Sensible. Speaking of Ominis, you know we’re going to have to tell him we’re faking it, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely. He wouldn’t believe it otherwise. He’d call it out for what it was, and it’d all crumble before it started!”

Sebastian laughed. “He’s a decent liar. And he hates Prewett too, he won’t have any qualms with it.”

A chuckle made its way past her lips as she pressed another bit of food into Sebastian’s hand. “Now, as far as the ‘displaying it’ nonsense goes…”

Sebastian nodded solemnly. “This will be the most difficult part. I’ll have to tolerate your company, won’t I?”

The shove she gave him nearly tipped him over.

“Come on now! You know I’m joking!”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s me that tolerates you , we both know that. We’ll have to do a bit more than tolerate, anyway. I don’t imagine it’ll be too much, though. Perhaps holding hands, and occasional loving embrace, that sort of thing.”

“So I’m not getting a proper snog out of you is what I’m hearing?”

This time, the shove did tip him over. “You’re nothing but an overconfident rake, Sebastian Sallow!” Even as she said it, she smiled down at him.

“I’m not, and you know it. I’m a right and proper gentleman.”

“Right and proper gentlemen don’t talk about snogging in front of young ladies.”

“You’re my best friend, Y/N, you hardly count as a lady.”

There was a slight twinge of pain in her chest as he said those words. Since when did she not count as a lady? Sure, she preferred trousers to skirts and dresses, but they were simply more practical. She could out duel any witch or wizard who stood against her, but she liked to think she kept some amount of poise while doing so. And she thought herself quite respectable, at least until she got talking to Sebastian… perhaps he had a bit of a point. Most ladies would be aghast at arranging a fake-courting situation, and talking so plainly while doing so, but it was Sebastian . He felt more of an extension of herself at times than a boy she had met just over two years ago.

Y/N was in the middle of rolling her eyes when another voice joined the conversation. “What was that about snogging? Do the two of you need a moment alone?”

She grinned at the sight of Ominis walking toward them, his wand outstretched. “Oh, thank God you’re here Ominis. I don’t know if I could have spent another moment in the hell that is Sebastian’s company.”

“If that’s really how you feel, Y/N, our plan is doomed to fail,” Sebastian said, gathering more of their nicked food to share with the new addition.

“Plan? What trouble are you trying to get me into now?” Ominis asked as he sat on the floor beside them. Sebastian pressed an apple tart into his hand.

“Oh, nothing horrible, unless you think giving Prewett a heart attack is indecent,” Sebastian said.

“As… un-fond of Prewett I am, I still need to know what’s happening before I let anything proceed. What is it?”

Y/N sighed. “Well, Ominis, as someone who shares similar sentiments about Prewett, I… needed a way to get him to stop asking to take me out. I stupidly told him I was seeing someone, and Sebastian has graciously decided to step in and be that someone. Pretend to be that someone, I guess I should say.”

Ominis frowned. “And you need my help in what way?”

“Not in any way, really. Just go with it. Confirm it if people ask. Spread rumors when possible,” Sebastian said.

Ominis thought hard. Y/N could practically see the gears turning in his head, calculating every which way things could backfire. After a few moments, he seemed to come to the conclusion that nothing could go too terribly wrong. “All right. Whatever keeps Prewett at bay.”

Y/N threw an arm around him, startling him a bit. “Thank you, Ominis.”

He chuckled. “Anything for you. Now, if only I had someone to place bets with on how long the pair of you last.”

Ominis and Sebastian walked side by side back to the Slytherin common room. Y/N had departed a while before them, needing to catch up on a bit of her homework.

“Seems like an interesting plan the two of you have conceived,” Ominis said.

“Interesting indeed. Though I do have to say, it was pretty much Y/N who conceived it,” Sebastian replied easily.

“It’ll be… fascinating to see the two of you pretend to be a couple.” Ominis sounded thoughtful.

Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, if I’m honest, there’s been times I thought the two of you might have something between you.” Ominis tilted his head to face Sebastian a little bit more. “Never certain of it, though. Should I have been certain of it?”

His frown deepened. “Are you trying to say that one of us has feelings for the other?”

Ominis shrugged. “More or less. Any truth to that?”

Sebastian found himself thinking about the thought of that. Truth be told, he hadn’t done much of it before. He enjoyed spending time with Y/N, of course. It was always fun to throw her off by saying something unexpected. What was more was how well she did the same thing back. It kept him on his toes, always letting him expect the unexpected. She was talented, too, of course. He’d never forget that first duel they had, nor the ones they fought side by side in afterwards. She was an incredible witch. Beautiful, too, though that was common knowledge among most of the students in their year. It was just a fact. A statement. Y/N was beautiful, talented, funny, and exciting. Sebastian knew all of these things–-that didn’t mean he liked her, did it?

He realized there had been a bit too much of a pause after Ominis’s question. He quickly spat out the conclusion he had drawn to. “No, Ominis. She’s my best friend, right beside you. I haven’t felt that way, and I seriously doubt she’d ever feel that way towards me. Purely platonic.”

Ominis nodded, seeming like he expected as much. “Figured. Was just curious if this whole arrangement would bring anything out of the two of you. Perhaps it’s for the best—if the two of you really did start courting, I have a feeling the very walls of Hogwarts would have their days numbered.”

“Are you saying we’d be an awful couple?”

“Awful, or perfect together. I don’t think the castle would stand a chance at your mayhem in either case.”

Sebastian chuckled before changing the subject. What he had told Ominis had been true… hadn’t it? She was his best friend. They were nothing more, never had been, and never would be.

So why was he so glad Ominis couldn’t see how flushed he’d gotten at the thought?

Y/N picked at her breakfast the next morning—she’d only eaten a couple bites of her tart before setting it back on her plate, moving her eggs around instead. She imagined this is what it felt like for those on the Quidditch teams before a match. It was only by sheer luck that none of her friends around her seemed to notice her unease; perhaps they figured she got a bad night of sleep or something. They talked animatedly to one another. Y/N tried to listen, but found herself distracted with constant glances at the door.

It was very usual for Sebastian to be late to breakfast—or at times to miss it entirely. With all his late night mischief, he tended to sleep in as much as possible before coming down at the last minute to grab some leftover pastry and rush off to class. She started to wonder if he would show at all before they had to start heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

As if the thought had brought him into existence, Sebastian Sallow strode through the doors of the Great Hall, Ominis trailing behind. He glanced quickly around the room before his eyes landed on Y/N, a smile appearing on his face as he walked over.

Seeing him let something settle in Y/N’s stomach. What was she so worried about? Of course he would show up for her. He always had, hadn’t he?

Sebastian arrived at Y/N’s table and didn’t hesitate to reach over her, grabbing an apple off her plate. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

Y/N scoffed. “Have you even looked outside yet? It’s a blizzard out there. I’m only grateful we don’t have to walk to Herbology in this mess.”

He shrugged. “Just because it’s snowing doesn’t mean it’s not lovely.”

A chuckle escaped her lips. “I suppose.”

He held out a hand to her, a prompting to head to class. “Come on then. Best we start our way over.”

The gesture wasn’t unusual coming from him, so she dedn’t hesitate to take his hand and stand. However, instead of letting their hands slide apart, his grip tightened as he laced his fingers between hers.

She turned away from him quickly, heading straight for the door. With their hands interlocked, he had no choice but to follow. She hoped she had turned quickly enough to keep him from seeing the blush that had crept up her cheeks. He had done that so… naturally. It stirred something inside her. She figured it was just her being impressed with his acting skills, and God knows Sebastian’s ego was already big enough—no need to let him know her astonishment of his actions to boost it further.

Once she felt she had collected herself enough, she turned her head to face him. “Did you finish your essay yet?”

He frowned. “What essay?”

“The one Professor Sharp assigned us in Veritaserum. Figured you’d find the topic interesting.”

His eyes lit up a bit. “Ah, yes, that one. Haven’t even started it, actually. Though I’m not nervous—I’d say the both of us know plenty to fill eleven inches of parchment.” He winked down at her, eliciting a smile on her lips. He was right about that. There was a period of time in their sixth year where Sebastian became determined to brew as many restricted potions as he could get the ingredients for. Veritaserum had been included in these, and the batch had resulted in an interesting night with Sebastian, Ominis, and Y/N spilling secret opinions on their classmates. “Perhaps we should brew another batch. I have a feeling Ominis isn’t telling me all the details of his letters with Anne.”

Y/N laughed and bumped shoulders with him, their interlocked hands keeping them both balanced. “Don’t torture your best friend for details about love letters, with you sister, no less.”

“Exactly! She’s my sister, I have a right to know!”

“I have the distinct feeling you wouldn’t want to know all the mushy things they write to each other.”

He rolls his eyes, but any annoyance comes across as ingenuine with the grin plastered on his face. “I’m not going to admit it, but maybe you’re right.” He leads them into the classroom, walking to the desk where Ominis already sat. Sebastian pulled out Y/N’s chair, allowing her to sit before taking his own beside her. A nice touch, she thought. Very in character.

Ominis chuckled to Y/N’s side. “The rumors have already begun. I overheard Poppy whispering about the two of you holding hands to someone, now that she’s got ahold of it, it’ll spread fast.”

Y/N grinned, meeting eyes with Sebastian beside her to see the smirk that had settled on his face. He stretched his arm above him, letting it settle on Y/N’s chair behind her. This was all too simple

The rest of the day continued on much the same. Sebastian was quick to hold her hand between classes, and with that the whispers around them became increasingly pronounced. It seemed too easy, really—Y/N supposed her close friendship to the boy leading up to this gave them some credibility as a believable pair.

By dinner, she couldn’t help but notice Leander Prewett positively fuming at the sight of them. He glared past all the tables, seemingly unable to tear his gaze away from Sebastian as he helped load food onto Y/N’s plate. She had to stifle a laugh.

“God, would you look at the awful sight of him?” she said, pulling her plate in front of her. “He’s livid.”

Sebastian smiled mischievously. “It’s beautiful to behold, really.”

Ominis frowned. “Well don’t leave me out of it.”

“Oh, you’re not missing much,” Sebastian replied, finishing up with his own plate and getting ready to dive into the meal. “Just Prewett tried to curse me with his glare alone. I suppose I should be grateful he never took to nonverbal spells.”

It wasn’t long until Imelda came over to the trio, Poppy and Natty trailing close behind her. Y/N held back a wince. Besides the two boys sat on either side of her, these three were her best friends. It was inevitable that they would confront her—especially with Imelda being, well, Imelda.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, a determined look in her eye. Natty stood off to one side, looking fairly unconcerned. Poppy, on the other hand, seemed nearly fearful.

“So,” Imelda said, looking between Y/N and Sebastian. “There have been rumors.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “About me? Pray tell.”

“About the two of you. ” She gave a tilt of her head to indicate Sebastian.

“I’m right here, you know,” he said.

“So am I,” Ominis interjected. “Though go on treating me like a broken broom, if you’d like.”

Y/N held back a laugh, trying to remain serious. Imelda rolled her eyes. “Just tell us if it’s true or not. Are the two of you… courting?”

Y/N shot a quick glance at Sebastian. The slight up-ticks in the corners of his mouth were all the reassurance she needed. “That we are. I’m surprised it took you all the entire day to ask me about it.”

Poppy let herself smile a bit behind Imelda. Funny, Y/N thought. She looked pretty happy about the development.

“We were surprised we weren’t the first to know,” Natty said.

“Well, to be fair, it’s a very new thing.”

“Long time coming, though,” Ominis mumbled.

Imelda’s suspicious eyes softened. “Well, alright. We just wanted to… confirm it, I suppose. It all seems a bit out of the blue, to be fair.”

Y/N shrugged, thinking fast. “These sort of things almost always are, aren’t they?”

“Not usually,” Poppy piped up.

“Well, this one was. In any case, I promise I’ll tell you all the whole story soon enough.”

“You better, L/N, or I’ll knock you off your broom,” Imelda said, smiling.

Y/N grinned back. “If you can catch me, that is.”

Imelda chuckled, waving a quick goodbye and leaving. Natty followed, but Poppy lingered for a moment. “She means well, you know. And for the record, I think the two of you complement each other.” After that, she scurried away.

Y/N turned back to Sebastian. Was his face a bit red? No, couldn’t be… though she admitted that last comment from Poppy had thrown her off a bit. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag.”

Sebastian smiled. “That it is. Seems like you have a story to come up with, too. I only ask you don’t make me too pathetic.”

Y/N groaned. “Bloody hell.”

When the next morning rolled around, Y/N somehow wasn’t surprised to see Sebastian standing at the entrance to the Great Hall. It seemed that his dedication to ‘courting’ her had trumped his need for a little more extra sleep. As she walked toward him, she watched his eyes scan the throng of students rushing back and forth. Something stirred in her stomach as she saw how intently he looked through everyone—the fact that his eyes were searching for none other than her.

How wonderful to have a friend who looked forward to seeing her that much.

Finally, his eyes landed on her. He… lit up, for the lack of a better term. A smile settled onto his face, and he pushed off of the wall he’d been leaning on, standing straighter. It was only a moment later he met her by her side.

“Morning, darling,” he said, as if he’d been waiting since the day before to say it.

That silly feeling in her stomach flared up again. “Good morning. I see the weather hasn’t gotten you down.”

His grin widened. “Down? You’re joking me, you know I love the snow.”

That much is true. She’d been teasing him all winter for that very fact; he’d looked like a child when Mr. Moon had started putting out the Christmas decorations—that elation only grew as the first flakes of snow settled on the castle grounds.

“It’s beautiful, Y/N, I seriously can’t see how you dislike it,” he says, taking her hand and leading her to the table.

“I don’t dislike it, it’s just… cold,” she replied. It was an honest answer. She’d always appreciated the snow from the distance; it was quite lovely to see Hogwarts and the surrounding hamlets covered in a blanket of snow. However, she wasn’t a fan of the chill–-it greatly limited her ability to go out and explore.

Sebastian sat down beside her. “Well then, I’ll take it as my responsibility as your companion to keep you warm.”

She wished she had something witty to reply back with. Instead, a blush fought its way to her face and she frowned. “You… yes. Do that, then.” She cleared her throat, looking around. “Where’s Ominis at?”

“Common room. He’ll be down shortly, he was just sending another letter to Anne before coming.”

She nodded. “We have Herbology today.”

“That we do.” He chuckled. “Merlin, am I excited to see Prewett’s face up close.”

“I hope it’s not too close. I wouldn’t put it past him if he were to try to duel you.”

“I almost hope he does,” Sebastian said, pulling some of the food off of Y/N’s plate. She slapped his hand away, but it was already too late. “I’d love to hex him onto his arse again.”

She shot him a warning glare. “Don’t you go starting anything. Ominis would kill us both if he had to pull his strings.”

He puts his hands up in a surrender. “Any spells I cast will be in self-defense only. I promise you that.”

It’s not long after that Ominis joins them, and then they were off to class. Once again, Sebastian’s hand found Y/N’s. There was still that slight pull in her stomach, a trace of unease in his fingertips. Normal things, she was sure, to have when holding hands with your best friend.

When they arrived in Herbology, the trio set themselves up at a table. The rest of the students came piling in and Y/N distinctly ignored the piercing gaze of Leander Prewett. She felt it on the back of her neck as class began and Professor Garlick gave instructions. It lingered as Sebastian pulled the pot they would be sharing onto the table, not giving her the chance to do it herself. And as the three of them spread soil into the pot, it bore into her still, not letting up for even a moment.

She felt she was about to combust from the heat of it when she noticed Sebastian’s grin beside her. Of course he was enjoying the whole thing—she’d have been a fool to think he’d feel any differently. She lightly slaped his arm with her gloved hand.

His eyebrows raised, not even phased by the ‘attack’, if one could consider it that. “And what was that for?”

“You’re enjoying yourself entirely too much .”

“Really? I was about to step it up a notch, I feel I’m not enjoying the moment to its fullest.”

And obviously, she couldn’t help but laugh at that. She always seemed to have a weakness for his quick remarks. His grin stretched further, if possible.

“Now, my dear, allow me to gather some seeds.” His face became terribly serious. “Don’t fret, I’ll only be gone a moment.”

She wanted to roll her eyes as he left, but instead, another chuckle made its way through her. Ominis let out a sigh. “And I thought he was insufferable before the two of you started this nonsense.”

The class carried on and Y/N found herself baffled again and again by Sebastian’s antics. First he insisted on not letting her leave the table for anything, running back and forth in the classroom to gather supplies. (Ominis didn’t complain about this aspect; he was completely content letting him weave through the tables like a mad-man.) Then he pulled the bag of soil away from her. When she tried to reason with him, he rattled on about how no lovely lady like her should get her hands dirty, to which she reminded him of all of the many, many times she’d proved herself most unlady-like in that sense. He didn’t relent. And finally, when class was over, he stood faster than a blink, offering his hand to help her up—to which, she rolled her eyes and took. It wasn’t this that surprised her—no, helping her up wasn’t extreme. It wasn’t something she would have even found outside of their friendship on a normal day. What caught her off guard was the bow he bent into as she stood, and the lips that pressed lightly, so very lightly , on the back of her hand. Her eyes widened.

He really was insistent on milking every last ounce of Prewett’s agony, wasn’t he?

In the bustle of students getting up and heading to the door, she doubted that many, if any at all, had seen this supposed display of affection. Even so, a tingle shot throughout her, settling right onto her warm cheeks. It was nerves, she reasoned. She was nervous about being caught in the scandal of one such as Sebastian Sallow being so physically affectionate toward her.

But as a figure stormed out of class, she realized the action had not gone completely unnoticed—as was the intention, she was sure. Leander Prewett strode past them, ears redder than the accents on his robes.

She’d have slapped the self-satisfied smirk off of Sebastian’s face if it didn’t look so bloody good on him. You know, in a completely platonic way.

Obviously.

They walked to Potions, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice that Ominis seemed in an awfully good mood, too. “I’m assuming the tantrum-like stomping I heard leaving the class was Prewett?”

“Tantrum-like,” Sebastian echoed. “A fitting way to describe him.”

“The two of you are awful, you know that?” Y/N said. She couldn’t help but be quite pleased with the outcome as well, though.

“‘Course we know that,” Sebastian replied.

Ominis grinned. “We’re not in Slytherin for nothing. Though to be a little fair to Prewett, I myself was getting a bit nauseous in there listening to the two of you. I only kept it together knowing it’s an over-the-top ruse.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Over-the-top. Not in the slightest, my dear Ominis. You just don’t know the first thing about romance.”

Y/N made no comment, though she was fairly certain Sebastian didn’t know much more about romance, either… He was doing a decent job at pretending to know, though.

They were fast approaching the classroom, and she winced to see Leander standing in the corridor leading up to class, arms folded and leaning against the wall in a sulk. His eyes shot up when he heard their footsteps, and he glared daggers directly at Sebastian. As they approached, he stood straighter, glancing between the three of them. She could see the nerves hidden behind his eyes.

“Could I talk to you, Y/N?” His eyes narrowed at Sebastian coldly. “ Privately?”

Sebastian tensed beside her. She was well aware of his protective streak. It was as deeply rooted in him as his charm, immovable as the freckles on his face. It was a part of her dear friend she both admired and grew tiresome of. But she was (almost) always good at talking him down, wasn’t she?

She tightened her grip on his hand. This time, it was a gesture of reassurance, not any sort of display for Leander–-though it could easily be taken as such. She looked up at him. “Go ahead into class. I’ll be right there, alright?”

He took a deep breath. It shuddered a bit on the way out. After a moment, he nodded. “Alright. But if it takes more than a few minutes, I’m coming back for you.”

He let go of her hand, and she found herself missing the comfort of the contact as he and Ominis continued down the corridor. She now faced Leander alone. “What is it you wanted to speak about?”

The red-head’s frown deepened. “It… seems,” he started, speaking as if each word physically pained him. “That you and Sallow are… involved. ”

About as much as she had been expecting. “And how is that your business?”

He gaped at her, as if she dare question his involvement in her affairs. “Because I thought you were a sensible person, Y/N. I still think you are, you’re just lost in this… nonsense.”

A small flame flickered somewhere in her chest. “Nonsense, you say?”

“Alright. It’s more than nonsense. It’s complete and utter rubbish. You’re blinded by Sallow, his false charm and party tricks.” Leanders fist clenched at his side, voice growing louder. “You’re better than this. Better than him. ”

Her jaw tightened. The flicker grew, sending heat down her arms and legs. “You’ll stop talking now, if you know what’s good for you.”

“No, Y/N. It’s I who knows what’s good for you. And what isn’t good for you is that conniving, sorry prick with no life ahead of him. He’s in detention every night. He’s ambitious for nothing but trouble, bound for nothing but a penniless life and an early grave.”

She hadn’t realized she’d pulled her wand out until it was aimed squarely at the Gryffindor’s chest. A raging fire burned inside of her, aching, needing to burst in a wave of fury. She had never felt anything like it.

It surprised her how steady the words were when she spoke them, how in control she was of the fire. “You are a fraction of the man Sebastian Sallow is. You know nothing of who he is, how it’s me who is undeserving of him . I would happily live a thousand penniless lives by his side before I ever even considered wasting a mere moment with you. So I’d suggest doing the greatest kindness you have the ability to provide, and piss off.”

Leander Prewett was stunned speechless. He stared at the girl–-no, the beast stood in front of him, at the wand poised to end him, and in the wisest decision he’d ever make, fled.

Y/N stood in the hall, just breathing for a moment. How dare he—how dare he even suggest he knew a single thing about her Sebastian? He saw only what he chose to, only what his jealousy allowed him. He was wrong.

It was a minute or two before she walked toward the classroom, still half-blind in her anger. It was this blindness that kept her from seeing the figure using a poor disillusionment charm, just a few steps down the hall.

Sebastian slipped into the classroom just after Y/N, charm dispelling as he entered the door. He saw Ominis’s head face toward them, and he’s sure he can feel the anger rolling off of her in waves. It was so tangible that there was no need for sight in sensing it.

She plopped into her usual seat next to Natty, not noticing how Sebastian sat after her at his own desk, even when he had been given very specific instructions to go on ahead of her.

As for his part in the incident, he was stunned .

He didn’t think he’d ever taken a Stupefy that had affected him as much as this.

While Ominis had continued down to the classroom, Sebastian had cast a disillusionment charm over himself and hid against the wall. He was very aware that this was likely an invasion of privacy, and that Ominis was right in scoffing and rolling his eyes at the action, but he was Sebastian Sallow, for Salazar’s sake. How could he resist listening in to a conversation bound to be about him, especially when the circumstances for eavesdropping were so simple?

(There was also the fact that something could go wrong. And if it did, he couldn’t leave the girl he was supposed to be courting to fend off Prewett on her own, as capable as she was.)

He’d heard every word leave Prewett’s mouth. He’d been ready to jump out and defend his honor when Y/N had done so for him.

And what a bang-up job she’d done, hadn’t she?

The words still echoed in his head. A thousand lifetimes… the ridiculous claim that she didn’t deserve him. He couldn’t wrap his head around any of it.

Ominis leaned over to whisper, pulling Sebastian out of his head and into the reality of Sharp’s droning about their assignment. “Seems like the conversation went swimmingly. Is she mad at you for butting in?”

“I didn’t butt in,” Sebastian whispered back. “She handled herself just fine.”

“It is Y/N we’re talking about, we’ve both known she’s completely capable for years now,” Ominis said. He frowned. “She’s still angry, though, isn’t she?”

“Oh she’s fuming. ” It was true. Natsai was looking quizzically at her friend, concerned at her stiff posture and clenched jaw.

“What is it she’s mad about?”

“She—” He found himself not wanting to say it. Not wanting Ominis to read into the things she had said, make them into something they weren’t.

He didn’t want to allow himself to read into it, either.

“Prewett was being a pratt. Said he knew her better, tried to convince her he knew better than she did. She told him to piss off. ”

That was enough of the truth, wasn’t it?

Ominis seemed to think so, giving a low hum. “Serves him right.”

Y/N didn’t calm down, even when the instructions were over and she and Natty went to gather the ingredients for their potions. Sebastian kept an eye on her, watching her chop ginger with much more force than was necessary. It doesn’t look like she told Natty anything–-the poor Gryffindor looked at her friend, completely at a loss. Blimey, he might’ve thought he was looking in a mirror. Sebastian decided he better do something about the situation.

He abandoned his meager start to the assignment and strided over to Y/N’s table, approaching her from behind. “I do believe the textbook says to cut the ginger into even slices, not to mutilate it.”

She gave a small start, turning to face him. He sees just a bit of the fury drop off her shoulders as they meet eyes. She let out a sigh, looking down at the ginger and wincing. “I’ve made a mess of it, haven’t I?”

“I bit, if I have to admit it.”

She groaned. “I’m sorry, he’s just… it was infuriating.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to your poor ginger. Let’s put it out of its misery, shall we?” He pulled out his wand, vanishing the sorry mess on her table before summoning the untouched ingredient he’d left on his desk. He set it down, smiling at her. “There. A fresh start.”

“Thank you.” He can tell by the look in her eyes that it’s more than just the ginger she’s talking about

“No, thank you.” As if it had a mind of its own, his hand found hers, giving it a light squeeze. “I quite hope he takes your advice and pisses off for the foreseeable future.”

Her mouth dropped open, but before she could say a word, he winked and walked back to his table.

The next few days went off without a hitch. Y/N and Sebastian played the part of the ideal courting couple, and none were the wiser. With each passing day, it became easier to hold hands, to lean in close and share conspiring whispers, to flirt and blush and play pretend.

(Curiously, the strange feeling in her stomach didn’t stop, as natural as these things became. Always nervous someone would see through it, she supposed.)

The rumors that had once been the very exciting topic of meals and corridor whispers turned slowly into accepted truth. There seemed to be no denying it. And as the Yule Ball loomed nearer, Y/N felt more and more at ease that she would not be asked to attend with Leander Prewett. He’d kept his distance since the Incident, as she’d taken to calling it, but felt that she’d be celebrating too soon if she thought he was done for good.

The Incident seemed not only to have an effect on Prewett. She hadn’t foreseen the consequences of Sebastian overhearing what she said, but really she didn’t think she would go back and change a single word she’d uttered. It had all been true. She knew him very well, as a friend, and she’d spend a thousand lifetimes with him, as a friend, and she sure as hell didn’t deserve him, as the bloody brilliant and completely wonderful friend he was.

Sebastian knew that.

Neither of them had spoken about it. They didn’t need to. There was nothing to address. Prewett had been stupid, Y/N had defended Sebastian, like a good friend , end of story.

So why did she still feel the weight of it whenever she saw him?

She figured it must be the leftover anger that coursed through her when she thought of Leander’s words, or the guilt that he had ever had to hear such things said about him. Yes, that was it. She wanted to reassure him. Say it straight to his face that that prat Prewett had it all wrong, and that he shouldn’t ever even consider things he said as truth. But that would have been an awkward conversation, and it was all implied anyway, so each time she thought about the Incident, she’d push it to the back of her mind.

She had been doing just that when Imelda caught her arm in the courtyard. “There you are! We’ve been trying to talk to you for ages .”

Y/N smiled at her, seeing Poppy in tow. “Oh? What about?”

Imelda rolled her eyes. “Don’t play coy, L/N. You still never told us the story about you and Sebastian. I mean, it's increasingly obvious the two of you are courting, but how? When? Why?”

“And have you kissed him yet?” Poppy added, grinning.

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “Poppy!”

The Hufflepuff smiled not-so-innocently.

Y/N shook her head in exasperation. “Look, it’s not as exciting as you both seem to think it is. We were walking together one day, he said he cared for me a bit more than friends, I said I felt the same, and here we are. And no, we haven’t kissed.” She’d thought carefully about the story she’d tell them, coming to the conclusion that a short, safe story was best. Fleshing it out with extreme detail would make it outlandish.

It was also hard for Y/N to think about how she and Sebastian might get together, for some reason. It caused that silly feeling in her stomach to turn.

Imelda frowned. “If I’m honest, I expected there to be a bit more to it. It is Sallow we’re talking about.”

Oh dear. Y/N shrugged, trying to hide any discomfort in the action. “Don’t know what to tell you. Sorry to disappoint.”

“You two have been getting along, though, haven’t you?” Poppy asked. “It seems like you are.”

“Of course we have been,” Y/N answered. “I mean, we were best friends before. Most of it feels… natural, really. Just a few added things. It’s… nice.” She was surprised that she didn’t get that uneasy feeling she normally had when telling a lie at those words.

They stopped pestering her about Sebastian (thankfully, she wasn't as good at coming up with lies on the spot as he is) and instead caught up on other things—homework, poachers, Quidditch, the usual. It was good spending some time with them. She almost didn’t notice the cold of the courtyard. Almost.

She started shivering at some point—with just her uniform and robe, the chill was quick to settle in. The slight breeze didn’t help, either, whipping away any warmth before she could keep it.

“And just what are you doing out here without a proper coat?” a voice said from behind her. She felt a bit warmer already. Sebastian smirked from beside her, looking over her shivering frame.

“I wasn’t planning on spending a lot of time here, we just… happened to meet,” Y/N explained.

He gave a playful scoff. “Ridiculous. Here, take this,” he said, removing the scarf from around his neck. Her hand opened to grab it, but… there was no need. Instead, he stood directly in front of her, passing the scarf over her shoulders and tying it snuggly without a word. He ran a hand against it, smoothing it out and pushing her hair out of her face. “There we go. Color suits you pretty nicely, too.”

He seemed very satisfied with his handiwork, taking a small step back to admire it. There were several moments of silence until Y/N realized she should probably say something.

“Um, thank you. That’s… much better now.” She was in fact, very warm now.

He chuckled. “I’ll see you later, darling.” And with that, he left.

She didn’t feel the chill at all anymore. Her stomach fluttered with that silly feeling, and her head spun with the scent of old parchment and fireplaces.

The snow fell in gentle flakes around her, and she realized it really was beautiful when she could feel the cold.

The Yule Ball was now only ten days away. It had come up faster than Sebastian thought it would—very recently, three weeks had seemed like a lifetime. Now each day went faster than the last.

With the winter chill growing ever stronger, Y/N had taken to wearing Sebastian’s scarf constantly. She could have swapped her own scarf out and returned his own, but… she hadn’t. He reminded himself that it added a very believable level to their act. It was physical proof that they were tied together, present even when they weren’t standing side by side. When they were apart, Sebastian sometimes thought of her somewhere off in the castle, his scarf tied around her neck, and Ominis would have to tap his shoulder out of his distant thoughts.

He wasn’t really sure what that was all about.

But right now, Y/N was by his side, sitting in the grass as they listened to Professor Garlick’s lecture. Herbology was mostly a hands-on event, but as they progressed toward their N.E.W.T.s, there were some plants to study that even Professor Garlick hesitated to put in front of them. Today she had ushered them outside, insisting that if they had to listen to her ramble on, they should at least feel the sun while doing so.

The snow had melted over the last couple of days, leaving the ground drier than it had been all winter. Sebastian missed the white blanket that had coated the trees and fields. He hoped it would snow again before Christmas. While the sun was out, it was still rather cool. Which was why, even in her coat and scarf ( his scarf), Y/N had begun to shiver.

Sebastian chuckled. “Still cold, are we?”

She frowned, giving him a small glare. “What gave it away?” She looked back at Professor Garlick. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through class without turning into a block of ice.”

“I’ve got an idea. Come here,” he said, scooting closer to her. Before she could protest, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her softly into his side.

He wasn’t sure what had made him do it. Instinct? His natural and irresistible flirtatious charm? Who knows. But as soon as he had done it, the weight of it settled on him. Other things had become normal. But this, Y/N pressed against his chest, where she could likely feel his rapidly beating heart, this was new. His body stiffened at the realization. Was this ok? Had he gone too far?

For a moment, she also seemed surprised—but only for a moment. He felt her body relax a bit against his, allowing herself to lean into his warmth. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and did the same.

Class continued, and Y/N stopped shivering. (Sebastian found this very fulfilling.) He was hyper aware of her breathing; he’d never heard it so close for so long. Over and over again he found his gaze drifting down to look at her, eyes unconsciously following the slope of her nose and curve of her lips. As soon as he’d realize he was staring, he’d whip his head forward again, begging himself to keep it that way. It never seemed to work.

After what felt like eternity, class ended. Y/N moved to stand, but Sebastian was quicker, jumping to his feet to offer his hand. A mischievous glint twinkled in her eye. She laid back on the ground, reaching up for his hand lazily. “The class really took it out of me. I’m not sure I can go on.”

Sebastian feigned annoyance. “Are you trying to take advantage of my kindness?” He grabbed her hand anyway, attempting to pull her up. She acted like a limp doll. He couldn’t help but laugh at the way she slumped forward when he finally pulled her into an upright sitting position. She stuck her tongue out at him. Leaning down, he grasped her other hand, forcing her to her feet. Still halfway committed to her game, she rose off balance, and to steady her, Sebastian placed a hand on her waist.

When she finally stood straight, he noticed how close the action had made them.

He was still holding her hand, still gripping her waist. He could feel her breath on his lips—it made his heart lurch. For a split second, he could only think of getting closer, seeing how not only her breath felt, but her lips against his—

His hands dropped to his side and he took a large step back. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see the expression she was wearing. He didn’t know what he wanted to find.

So instead, he cleared his throat. “Lot of work to get you on your feet. Come on, those potions won’t brew themselves.”

Smooth, Sebastian.

Ominis Gaunt was no idiot. In fact, he fancied himself pretty sharp, especially when it came to certain topics.

One of these topics happened to be Sebastian Sallow.

He didn’t need working eyes to see that something was changing . Well, less changing, really, and more uncovering what had been there all along. He could hear it in the tone of Sebastian’s voice when he spoke to her, the way it went all soft. He felt it in the way Sebastian froze in place every time she entered a room. There was this small stupid sigh he’d let out when he couldn’t walk her to her next class, a lingering frown that wormed its way into his speech every time she wasn’t around.

They were little things. But they were there.

And now, after that Herbology class, his friend walked beside him in silence . It was something he had scarcely beheld.

Ominis wasn’t completely sure—not yet. But if he’d hazard a guess, he’d say his best friend had fallen in love—he just didn’t know it yet.

It finally hit her when she realized she missed his smell on his scarf.

She’d worn it every day since he gave it to her—it was cold out, why wouldn’t she? Why not appreciate the gift her friend had given her?

Why not take the chance to always feel he was near her, even when he wasn’t?

Over the days, the scent of fireplaces, old parchment, and a trace of his cologne faded away. She sat in her room and took a deep breath, realizing in that moment that she had spent every moment she could basking in it. It was in the absence that she finally figured out that silly feeling in her stomach. And now that she had a name for it, it was painful.

She wasn’t supposed to feel this way for a friend—her best friend . She wasn’t supposed to be excited when he held her hand, wasn’t supposed to feel the burn of his hold on her waist, wasn’t supposed to wish he had closed the distance and kissed the life out of her .

She wasn’t supposed to be in love with him.

Because that’s what it had been all along, hadn’t it? She couldn’t even trace back to the beginning of the feeling, it was like it had been there all along, lingering, waiting to be discovered.

Now that she had, she worried it would destroy her.

There was no chance he felt the same—he would never have agreed to her stupid plan if those feelings had existed. He would have said something a long time ago. Perhaps he would have kissed her in Herbology.

Where was she supposed to go from here? How could she continue with their awful, awful plan, longing in every moment that it was the truth?

How could she give up the chance to pretend it was real, if only for a few days more?

She wouldn’t ruin this. The plan. Their friendship. She would continue on, and when the day came for it to end, she’d be heartbroken, and pretend to be that damn good at acting . She’d get over it, and she’d never let anyone know that she had ever been in love with Sebastian Sallow.

Ominis bounded into the Great Hall, which was a distinctly un-Ominis thing to do. Sebastian raised an eyebrow as his friend approached, grinning ear to ear. “Have you gotten a letter from Anne?”

“I haven’t checked my post yet,” Sebastian answered as Ominis sat in one of the empty seats beside him. Y/N hadn’t come down yet, which was a distinctly un-Y/N thing to do. Blimey, was everyone off today?

“Then I’ll do the pleasure of sharing the good news myself. She’s been feeling well these last several days, and if it keeps up, she plans to come to the Yule Ball!”

Sebastian understood his friend’s good mood immediately—his own heart soared at the thought of his sister enjoying herself and dancing the night away, and didn’t even feel bothered that it would likely be in Ominis’s arms (he had given his approval, after all). “Really? Have you asked her then, officially?”

“Of course. I’ll be right beside her, Sebastian. You won’t have to worry.”

Sebastian patted his oldest friend on the shoulder, grinning right back at him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“This does leave a bit of a complication, though, doesn’t it?” Ominis said.

Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean?”

His friend sighed. “I was supposed to be going with Y/N after the two of you broke it off… it wasn’t official, or anything, but—”

“Don’t worry about it, Ominis. She wouldn’t want you to miss going with Anne.” Sebastian thought for a moment. “It is rather close to the ball, anyway. Perhaps it would be best if I went with her. Left the ‘breaking it off’ until afterwards.” Why did that thought make his heart beat faster? “If she’ll have me, of course.”

A strange expression crossed Ominis’s face. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. Why don’t you ask her once she arrives?”

“I will.”

For some reason, it became infinitely harder to eat after that conversation. Each bite of Sebastian’s toast had lost its taste, no matter how much butter he put on it. His pumpkin juice was the same.

What if she said no? What if she was disappointed to go with him, her longing lying elsewhere?

And why did he care so much if it did?

He pushed those thoughts aside as she arrived in the Great Hall, uniform slightly rumpled and hair askew. Had she stayed up too late studying?

In any case, he had a question he needed to ask. He rose to meet her, unable to wait for her to sit at the table. She started a bit, looking up at him.

“Morning, Sebastian,” she said.

“Morning. I had… a question to ask you.”

She tilted her head. He wondered if she heard the worried tone in his voice and quickly cleared his throat, trying to get it to leave.

“What’s the question?”

“Well, you see, there’s a bit of great news, and a little bad news that comes with this question.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Anne is feeling well–well enough that she plans to attend the Yule Ball.”

Her eyes lit up. (He was glad he got to tell her, just so he could see that.) “That’s wonderful! I’ll be so excited to see her! What’s the bad in all of this?”

“She plans to attend with Ominis, who was going to be your date.”

She shakes her head. “That’s alright. I would never want to come between the two of them, I can stay in that night. Be heartbroken, and all that.”

Sebastian shifted on his feet, nervously. His arms came up to cross over his chest in a protective gesture. “But that’s where my question comes in. I thought—and, please feel free to say no to this—that we could go together? Most people would be expecting it anyways, and we could push off the end of our courting a bit, I wouldn’t mind. And it would keep Prewett trying to ask you last minute, I wouldn’t put it past—”

“Sebastian,” Y/N said, smiling. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll look forward to going with you.”

He held back a wide grin. “Good. I figured it would beat sitting in your dormitory being miserable.”

She laughed, and something shifted inside him. “That it will.”

And with that, he took her hand and led her to the table, his smile refusing to be hidden any longer.

The week leading up to the Yule Ball was a frenzy. Students were restless in class, whispering about who was going with who, figuring out if someone didn’t have a date yet, making plans on buying dresses and robes and discussing how to style hair. By the time the last class was out, a mere three days before the dance, the professors were sick of it. There was an excitement in the air—it was difficult not to get swept up into it.

It was inevitable, Y/N realized, that she wound up in the dress shop in Hogsmeade. Imelda, Poppy, and Natty were with her, all trying to find dresses of their own. Poppy had settled on a lovely gown with a light floral print. Natty found a deep maroon one, accented with flecks of gold–-the perfect dress for a proud Gryffindor. Imelda was set on a navy dress, a little less fancy than some of the other ones, insisting she needed to be able to move properly to dance.

Y/N, on the other hand, was at a loss. She felt like she had tried at least a dozen gowns on and hated every single one. She was nervous—more than she’d like to admit. She knew Sebastian didn’t feel the same for her as she did him, but she still wanted to put her best self forward. And part of that meant the perfect dress.

She sighed as the shopkeeper put away yet another reject—this one a frilly pink number than Y/N had nearly vomited on. She buried her face in her hands. “It’s hopeless.”

Poppy came to her side. “Of course it isn’t! We just have to keep looking!”

“What about this one?” Natty asked, pulling a dress forward for them to view. The Gryffindor had a proud glint in her eye, as if she already knew she had won. “I’m sure he’ll love the color.”

That much was sure to be true. It was a deep emerald green, one that Y/N thought would compliment Sebastian’s lovely brown hair nicely. She blushed at the thought, looking closer at the dress. “I can try it on and see.”

As the shopkeeper helped lace up the back, Y/N knew before looking in the mirror that this was the dress she would wear. It was a simple, but a little scandalous—the neckline allowed her collarbones and tops of her shoulders to be put on display, and the short flowing sleeves showed off her arms. It was lovely. She felt lovely.

When she was dressed, her friends grinned at her. “If you don’t get that dress, I’ll force you into it,” Imelda said.

“No need for force,” Y/N said. “I love it.”

She could only hope Sebastian loved it, too—even if it was just as a friend.

Sebastian’s fingers drummed on the table as he stared at the ground of the Undercroft. Ominis gave an annoyed hum. “If you don’t stop that tapping, I may have to blast your fingers off.”

He frowned at his friend, but stopped his tapping. “You act like I killed your puffskein.”

“If I had a puffskein, and you killed it, I promise I’d act much worse. ”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, trying to read the book on the table in front of him. The words had no meaning to him.

“You’re tapping again.”

Sebastian groaned. “I can’t help it.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t used to get so antsy without seeing her all day.”

“Y/N’s been gone for hours . Aren’t you a little concerned?”

“She’s dress shopping, Sebastian. I hardly think that’s an event to worry over.”

Sebastian pouted, arms crossed to keep from drumming the table.

“I didn’t say who her was, by the way.”

His head shot over to look at Ominis. “What do you mean?”

“I never mentioned who you were antsy about not seeing. Could have been Anne. Could have been Professor Weasley, for all the context there was. But you thought of Y/N. ” Ominis smiled to himself. “I wonder if it means what I think it means.”

Sebastian swallowed thickly. “And what exactly do you think it means?”

He shrugged. “That you love her.”

It was like a fire ignited inside his chest. “What are you—why would—I don’t— ”

“With that reaction, I rescind my previous statement.” Ominis grinned. “It’s no longer what I think it means. It’s what I know it means.”

“You don’t know anything, Ominis. I’ve told you before, she's my best friend, I don’t…” he trailed off. He couldn’t say he didn’t.

“Are you quite certain of that?” Ominis closed the book he’d been tracing his wand over with a gentle thud . “Let’s review the facts before we come to a conclusion, dear friend. You’re nervous about the dance tomorrow.”

“It’s a ball, why wouldn’t I be–”

“Hush now, Sebastian. You’re going to listen to me for once in your life. You’re nervous because of her . Think back, is there anyone else you would have asked to the ball?”

Of course there bloody wasn’t. But that was a rule Sebastian made for himself, wasn’t it? Not to think about it? Not to let his heart race, his days revolve around her. Not to admit what these things meant.

“You’re insufferable when she’s gone—and believe me, I know the difference between normal Sebastian and insufferable Sebastian. You trusted her from the moment you saw her. You’d do anything for her, including torturing yourself by going along with this ridiculous scheme of hers. You lie to yourself, again and again, and for what? To protect her? To protect yourself? You love her, Sebastian.”

Sebastian held his head in his hands. He’d put up so many barriers, so many walls around that truth, that he felt himself crumbling. He couldn’t love Y/N, not because she wasn’t worthy of it, not because he didn’t, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of living without her. That was torture. That was insufferable.

The walls had been demolished. The rules all broken. The truth was out there now, spoken into existence by Ominis, and as much as Sebastian longed to put it back in the careful little corner he’d made for it, he couldn’t.

He was supposed to deny every word Ominis said. He was supposed to push these things aside and lie and go back to the way things were. But instead, his voice came out small, uneven, and raw.

“What am I going to do, Ominis?”

For all the snark he gave, Ominis truly cared for his friend. At the sound of his weak voice, he placed a gentle hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Telling her would be a good start.”

Sebastian gave a humorless laugh. “As if that wouldn’t ruin everything.”

“I seriously doubt admitting you care for her deeply would result in her hating you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ominis said. “If she had the capability to hate you, I feel you would have crossed that line long ago.”

“Which is exactly why she could never feel the same.”

Ominis sighed. “Sebastian, throughout everything, she has always been right at your side. I’d say that loyalty reflects feelings a bit deeper than friendship on her part.”

Sebastian didn’t have a reply to that. Admitting to Ominis, to himself, the feelings he had for Y/N had been challenge enough. To consider that Y/N might feel the same… It was too much. Ominis seemed to recognize that. “Look, just… think about it, alright? Go to the ball with her tomorrow. Let yourself enjoy it. Stop acting for one night, and see how it goes.”

Ominis gave him a pat on the shoulder, then rose to his feet. “I’m going to the dormitory. Anne is arriving tomorrow; it’s best if we both get our sleep.”

Sebastian scoffed as his friend left. As if he’d sleep at all after any of that.

The ball was only an hour away. After greeting Anne, Natty, Poppy, and Imelda had whisked Y/N away to begin getting ready. At first, Y/N didn’t understand why so much time was necessary—but as the minutes ticked away, she found herself nervously scrambling to pin her hair. They had all settled themselves in the Room of Requirement, figuring it was the perfect space for all of them to prepare. The other three girls had left just minutes ago, rushing off to see the other girls their year, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire their lovely gowns.

As she was leaving that morning, Y/N had hastily explained to Anne how to get to the room; she could only hope her instructions were clear. Evidently, they were—Anne came bursting into the room, bright smile on her face. She held a dress in her arms. Y/N tore her stare away from the mirror in front of her to turn to the girl. “Anne! You’ve made it! You haven’t left much time to get ready, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, settling in front of the mirror beside her. “But I couldn’t tear myself away. It was wonderful seeing Ominis again.”

“I’m sure he made up for the hardship of seeing your brother,” Y/N joked.

Anne laughed. “And then some. Sebastian left a while ago to get ready. I’m glad he’s taking you, seeing as I stole your intended companion. Quite the plan the three of you had, hm?”

Y/N froze with a pin clutched between her fingers. “Ominis told you about it?”

“He did. I have to say, I’m sorry I missed seeing Prewett’s reaction. From what I’ve heard, you gave him quite the talking to.” Anne turned to the mirror, beginning the work on her own hair.

“O-oh? Well, um, yes, I suppose I did,” Y/N said, trying to distract herself by looking at her reflection. “I do appreciate Sebastian’s help with all of it.”

“He’s horrid, but he’s always there when it truly matters.” Anne glanced over at her. “Your hair looks perfect, why do you keep fidgeting with it?”

Y/N shrugged, trying to maintain a look of innocence. “I just want to look my best.”

“Nervous, are we?”

She froze. “W-why would I be nervous?”

Anne gasped, reaching out to grab Y/N’s arm. “You are nervous! Please, you must tell me, do you fancy him?”

“That… that’s ludicrous, Anne, he’s my best friend, you know that.”

The brunette smirked, and it looked much too like her brother—mischievous glint and all. “I won’t tell him.”

“I…”

Oh, what was the point? Why try to keep it in any longer—it was bound to drive her mad, might as well let someone know why she was doomed for an asylum.

“I do fancy him, Anne. In fact, I fancy him so much, I hardly know what to do with myself.” She sighed heavily. “It’s maddening . I’ve only realized it recently, though I now know I’ve felt this way for much longer than that. And now, with this idiotic plan—” She held her face in her hands. “Well, it’s easy to see how things… how it could be , if he only felt the same.”

She was too busy wallowing in her misery to see Anne’s grin widen with her words. “Perhaps tonight will change things.”

Y/N groaned. “I doubt that. He only asked me because he wanted to make sure Prewett didn’t.”

“And why would he want to make sure Prewett didn’t?”

“Because… because he’s a good friend, Anne.”

Anne shrugged. “I’m going to ask you to do something tonight, Y/N. Oh, quit groaning like you’ve been cursed, it’s not difficult —keep an open mind. That’s all. Try to see what’s there, and not what you’ve been so focused on avoiding. Let yourself be happy tonight.” Anne turned back to the mirror, finishing up her hair. “I won’t push you any more on the subject as long as you try to do that.”

Y/N didn’t think she had much choice but to accept.

As they walked to the ballroom, Y/N could only repeat the words don’t trip over and over again in her mind. Anne had gotten ready quickly, and she looked stunning in her blue dress. Her health had improved greatly in the past few months—a nurse and St. Mungos had been experimenting with different potions to ease her pain, and it had been working. Her face was no longer as thin, and Y/N could finally see her as the trouble-making girl she had always heard about.

Together, they turned the corner that led to the top of the stairs. Ominis and Sebastian stood at the bottom, speaking to one another. They hadn’t noticed them yet. The sight of Sebastian’s well-fitted black suit left her a bit breathless. She took Anne’s hand as they began down the stairs. Sebastian looked up.

If she thought she had been breathless a moment ago, now she was simply drowning . There was a softness in his eyes that traced over her, looking down at her gown and then back up to her face. For a moment, he seemed too stunned to move. And then, he smiled.

Oh, God, Y/N. Really don’t trip now.

He walked with Ominis to the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t take his eyes off of her. He took a deep breath, she thought, and then… relaxed. Something about his disposition changed, ever so slightly.

Her hand slid into his as he offered it. “I can’t begin to describe how wonderful you look.”

His words made her heart race. “You clean up nicely yourself.”

He grinned, holding up his arm to escort her. “Shall we?”

She looped her arm through his. Anne and Ominis followed them. Y/N smiled. “They look happy together, don’t they?” she said softly.

Sebastian hummed in agreement. “There’s a part of me that thinks I should disapprove, but really, I couldn’t ask for someone better for my sister.”

The ballroom was decked ceiling to floor in Christmas decor. Floating lights twinkled through the air, making Y/N stare in in wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Sebastian said quietly. She turned to face him, his own head swiveling away from her. Around them, couples were preparing to dance. He cleared his throat. “May I take this dance?” he said in an overly posh voice, bowing to her.

She laughed. “Careful, you’re sounding a bit like Ominis there.”

He grinned before taking her hand, leading her to the floor. A wave of nerves came over her—she wasn’t much of a dancer. Sebastian seemed to notice this. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you if you step on my feet. For long.”

She hit him on the shoulder. Rolling his eyes, he brought her into position, stepping closer to her. His free hand came to settle on her waist. He held it softly—she could barely feel the weight of it. It wasn’t hesitant, but… gentle. It was careful. She brought her own hand up to his shoulder—only then did she realize how close they truly were.

She could have counted every freckle on his face—and wouldn’t have minded the time it took to do so. His lashes were longer than she remembered. And his eyes—had they always had those flecks of green in them?

The music started, and he began to lead her in a dance.

Any nerves she had felt faded away once she realized how competent of a dancer Sebastian was. He led her effortlessly, bringing her in and out of twists and spins with ease. She found herself getting lost in the motions; it was rather like a duel, in some ways. Her awareness of her body was heightened, having to be ready to react to each move Sebastian made. She and Sebastian had proven themselves to be excellent dueling partners—why would dancing have been any different?

He pulled her into the basic position as the song shifted from one to another. This one was slower, less complex. It allowed them to stay face to face. Y/N grinned. “You never told me you could dance.”

He smirked a bit. “You never asked. My parents taught Anne and I when we were young. Thought it would only be proper for us to know, they at least tried to raise a gentleman.”

She chuckled. “Their efforts have been noticed. Although, it does make me wonder what other secrets my Sebastian might be hiding from me.”

His eyebrows raised. “Oh? Your Sebastian, is it?”

Her mouth opened quickly and then closed. A blush fought its way to her face. “I… This is about you and your secrets, Sebastian. Don’t try to change the subject.”

He laughed. “All in due time, my Y/N .” He didn’t give her the time to reply, pulling her into a quick spin that left her dizzy.

Several more songs came and went, each leaving the pair more restless than the last. It was only with great hesitation that Y/N asked to stop for a drink, thoroughly enjoying the exhilaration of it all. Sebastian led her to a table, returning a moment later with Butterbeer for each of them. Y/N sipped at it eagerly.

“Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, don’t they?” Y/N said, watching Imelda dance stiffly with the Ravenclaw boy she had come with. As well as she flew, she didn’t move nearly as well on the ground. However, this fact didn’t keep her from smiling and laughing as she danced.

Sebastian nodded from beside her. “It is a bit crowded, though, don’t you think?”

She couldn’t help but agree. The room was nearly stifling. “It is a bit warm.”

“Then let’s go somewhere to cool off for a bit.” He smiled down at her, twinkle in his eye.

“Oh? Do you have something in mind?” she asked with a tilt of the head.

“You’ll see in just a moment.”

He led her out of the ballroom, and even the hallway alone gave her some fresh air she desperately needed. But they didn’t stop there. Instead, he dragged her through hallways and up staircases (and she didn’t even care how far it was—she’d go anywhere with him) until finally, they were at the top of the Astronomy tower.

The cool air hit her skin as she took deep, appreciative breaths. It had been a while since she had been up here—she hadn’t pursued a N.E.W.T. on the subject. The view was astonishing—how had she forgotten it?

Sebastian sat on the ground, overlooking the world around them. He patted the ground beside him, a clear indication to join him.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been up here,” she said, sitting. The moon was dancing in and out of the clouds, its pale light reflecting off of the Black Lake below them.

“I still sneak up here sometimes, to think.”

“Isn’t that what the Undercroft’s for?”

He smiled. “Sure. But sometimes a little risk of getting caught makes things a bit more worth it. Besides, the Undercroft has nothing to this view.”

She hummed in agreement. The heat of the ballroom had disappeared by now, and she found herself starting to shiver in the cold winter air. At the very first trace of this, Sebastian removed his coat, leaning over to wrap it around her shoulders. She was grateful the moon had hidden behind a cloud, concealing the redness in her face. Old parchment and fireplaces. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” He laid back on the ground, staring up at the sky above. “I’m going to be sore until next Tuesday with all that dancing we did.”

She fell back, laying beside him. “Maybe that’s their plan. Tire us all out at the beginning of the break so we don’t have energy to cause any mischief.”

He snorted. “You really think a lack of energy is enough to stop me?”

“Absolutely not. But perhaps the professors underestimated you.”

“Then I’ll have to show them how wrong they are then, won’t I?” He shifted, bringing one arm up behind his neck, resting his head on it. The other—the one next to her— stayed stretched out by his side.

She mirrored his position. “Don’t go too far. Ominis might have your head if he has to save you from expulsion. Again. ”

“He’ll forgive me. He always does.”

It was then she finally felt the heat of his gaze. She turned her head to look at him, meeting his eyes. How long had he been staring at her? There was a softness there—one that had been there all evening. She hadn’t realized it until then, but it dawned on her that the uneasiness, the fear that she had felt before the ball, had disappeared completely from the moment he smiled at her. It occurred to her that she should do something with that courage. She looked him right in the eye, a voice whispering in her mind— tell him. Just tell him you love him.

But he looked away, back up into the clouds. She let out a small sigh, doing the same. Was it really all so hopeless?

A warmth overtook her fingertips as Sebastian took her hand in his. Their fingers intertwined. She could feel the calluses of his thumb brush against her knuckle.

“It’s snowing,” he said softly, barely more than a whisper.

It was. The flakes came down slowly in fluttering paths that made her head spin as she stared up at them. They caught the moonlight, flickering just like the lights in the ballroom.

“It is,” she said. “And you were right. It really is lovely.”

She half expected some witty remark, a Sebastian-esque reply of obviously , he’s always right.

But instead, he just tightened his grip on her hand and watched the snow fall around them.

Four days. That’s how long it had been since the ball, since something had shifted.

Y/N didn’t know how to explain it–-her and Sebastian hadn’t spoken about that night, yet the weight of it was felt in every moment they spent together. They both continued on, pretending to be more than friends, while toeing that very line in reality. The first day or so, this shift had given her hope. Perhaps Sebastian did feel the same. He had held her hand without the world watching. He had looked at her with that softness. It had to mean something, didn’t it?

But the days continued to pass and nothing else changed. If they were still following the initial plan, they were supposed to break the whole thing off any day now. And yet… neither of them had brought it up.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t keep living with this in-between thing, caught between a blissful lie and a heartbreaking truth. With every passing hour, it felt heavier and heavier. The words between them piled up. She worried she would soon drown in them.

They were in the courtyard when it finally happened. With the Christmas break, most students had returned home—the quiet wouldn’t last long, though. They would all be back for class the next day. Maybe the thought of the coming hustle and bustle is what drove Sebastian to speak. Y/N had cleared off a bench for the pair of them to sit at, snow lazily falling around them.

“What are we doing?”

Her eyebrows furrowed at his question. “I thought we came out here to enjoy the snow. Isn’t that what we planned on?”

He shook his head, sighing. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I think we both know that’s not what I’m trying to talk about.”

Oh. Oh. “I… I’m not sure, Sebastian. If… if you want to break it off before everyone gets back, I understand. It would cause less of a stir that way.” I don’t want to break it off. I want to start over. I want to do it right this time around.

“You really want to break it off? After everything?” Where had that softness in his eyes gone?

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Sebastian. Wasn’t that the plan?” Why was she getting angry at him? If he felt the same thing she did, why couldn’t he just say it?

“That damn plan. Is this really all that’s about?” His voice rose in volume. “Still some stupid ploy to keep Prewett away?” He stood up from the bench, moving to pace in front of her.

“I…” She faltered. She watched his movements, back and forth, the way his brow furrowed and his lips fell down into a frown. “I don’t know, Sebastian. Maybe this was all too much to ask from you, but you’re my best friend and I—”

He interrupted her with a scoff. “ Friend. Don’t you know how it kills me to hear you say that?” He turned to face her, eyes aflame. “Since that bloody ball, every time I’ve even thought about you in that way, it tears me to bits. Each time I look at you, all I see is that night in the Astronomy tower, you, and the snow in your hair. It took everything in me not to kiss you that night, don’t you know that?”

She swore she could hear each snowflake hit the ground in the silence that followed. “You… you wanted to kiss me?” Her voice was timid. “Why?”

“Because I love you, Y/N. That’s why.”

And there it was.

Like a dam bursting, the truth poured out. “You asked me to help you with Prewett, and of course I agreed. You’re everything to me, why would I not help you? But then I realize, well I realize it’s you, and it’s always been you. I want it to be real, Y/N. Every last bit of it. I want—”

He hadn’t processed her jumping up from the bench until her lips were pressed against his in a short kiss. He didn’t even have time to close his eyes before she pulled away. Her hand still held his cheek.

He gaped at the girl in front of him. “I… I want… what was I saying?”

She smiled— really smiled, one of those ones done more with the eyes than the mouth. “I'm pretty sure you were telling me that you love me. You kept going on about it, though, so I thought I’d interrupt to say I love you, too.”

He didn’t waste another moment before kissing her. His hands cupped her face, pulling her closer than she ever thought possible. Her own hand skimmed across his cheek and then on the back of his neck, and goodness, was his hair as soft as it looked . The other hand held tightly onto the front of his coat—she swore it was the only thing keeping her on the planet.

It was him who broke the kiss, and she instinctively leaned forward to chase after his lips. He chuckled, pressing his forehead on hers. “I’ve had a thought,” he said, breathless. “I think I’d like to court you, if you’re interested.”

She laughed as he kissed the corner of her lips. “We’ve gone a bit out of order, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t care less,” he said, moving to kiss her again.

The last coherent thought she could make was that the snow made for a very, very lovely morning.

When the students all arrived the next day to continue classes, no one paid much attention to Y/N L/N and Sebastian Sallow. Old news. An obvious pairing, looking back at it. No one really cared that she wasn’t just sporting a Slytherin scarf around her neck, but a green sweater that was much too big on her.To most, there was no difference in the grins on their faces, the excitement in their voices. Well, no one except Ominis.

When Sebastian took a seat beside him, Ominis chuckled. “Seems I was right. Absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but his wide grin countered any annoyance he might have felt. “Don’t start.”

As Y/N sat beside him, giving a quick kiss for good morning, he thought that maybe it was ok that Ominis was right every once in a while.

A/N: I really hope you all enjoyed this! I definitely had a lot of fun writing it. This is my first work with Sebastian, and I’m very much looking forward to writing more! I have plans for a few mores oneshots and a series, so stay tuned for those! Thanks for reading :)

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #fake dating au #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #idiots in love #first kiss

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