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cherrixpie · 2 months ago

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HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part four of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it. only, you could only lie to your brother for so long...

↬ sfw; fluff & angst; wc: 5.4k; cw: suggestive, partial nudity; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor! reader

( masterlist )

The castle was alive with anticipation, the crisp morning air buzzing with excitement of match day. The first quidditch match of the season, Griffindor versus Slytherin, was to take part today. After breakfast, you would join your team on the pitch and -hopefully- win the game. The first game of the season had always been the most nerve wracking to you, but with the new layer of excitement of playing against your secret boyfriend, you were vibrating with anticipation.

As you made your way towards the Great Hall, the sound of distant cheers and chants already echoed from the grounds outside, early fans eager to secure the best seats. Griffindor red and Slytherin green clashed in waves of color as students of either house swarmed towards breakfast. Though you didn't stick out in your quidditch attire that was as scarlet red as the hats, capes and scarfs of the Griffindor fans, the people who noticed you wished you good luck for the match.

Rounding the corner near the staircase, you nearly collided with Theo, who was casually leaning against the stone wall, his broom slung over his shoulder and his emerald scarf lazily wrapped around his neck. You knew he had been waiting for you when your eyes met. After last night, you had been worried your argument would result in a permanent rift between you, but his eyes lit up when they locked with yours.

“Well well,” he drawled, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “If it isn't Gryffindor’s star chaser. Shouldn't you be off practicing some last-minute heroics?”

You pretended to be annoyed rather than filled to the brim with adoration and rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help the small smile that crept onto your face. “Funny. I was just about to ask if Slytherin had finally resorted to bribing Madam Hooch. Seems like the only way you’d stand a chance today.”

Glancing around the deserted booth under the staircase, Theo pushed himself off the wall and strode slowly towards you. You uncrossed your arms to take his hand, and there you stood, brooms in one hand, holding onto each other with the second. Finally, the subtle smile reached Theo’s eyes as he played with your fingers. “You’ll be great today.”

“You too,” you smiled with exhilaration and took a step closer. Your eyes darted around the small space nervously, but there was no one to see you. So you stood on your tip toes and pecked Theo’s lips softly. What you hadn't anticipated was Theo jolting and surging at you, chasing your retreating lips until he had them locked in a soft caress of his own. A surprised moan escaped you and Theo chuckled softly into your mouth. One hand held your jaw still as he kissed you senseless, the other trailed down to toy with the hem of your jersey.

Kisses with Theo were always a careful mix of fervent passion on your part and disciplined control on his. It was no different now, as Theo lead the kiss, caressing all the right places, balancing that perfect combination of tender and dominating. You fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him impossibly closer. Suddenly, a cool hand closed around both your wrists, yanking them away and over your hand, making you stumble as your back hit the wall. One of Theo’s hand held your wrists in place over your hand, the other lifted your chin to gain access to your neck.

“Tesoro,” he sighed against your skin, “let me give you a good luck token for the match.” You knew what he meant, and your suspicions were only confirmed when you saw the hungry look in his eyes. You twitched under his heavy gaze and his eyes grew impossibly darker. “Theo… no one can see.”

When he used his index finger to draw a line down your throat towards your collar bone, he left a row of goosebumps in its wake that he took in with great satisfaction. The soft material of your quidditch uniform gave in to his pull as he exposed part of your cleavage. “They won't,” he promised in an impossibly soft voice. “I’ll do it where nobody can see.”

You could barely hear your whispered “okay” over the thundering of your heart beat. The fear of being caught paired with the thrill of anticipation and his dark, hungry eyes culminated in the uncontrollable beating of your heart against your ribcage, as if it wanted to escape from your body, to seek shelter in the meticulous hands of your lover.

Theo dipped his head down to the exposed skin of your cleavage and left a trail of pecks before he found a suitable spot. Biting down on it, he relished in the little gasp it elicited from you. As Theo worked diligently on perfecting the mark, you slipped your hands from his grip and buried them in his dark locks. In response, Theo let out a small groan and lifted his head, tugging up your jersey with a satisfied little smirk. “Now you’re ready.”

During breakfast at the Griffindor table, you kept tugging at your jersey to a point when Hermoine asked wether you were okay. You stocked it up to performance anxiety. When Harry, Ron, Ginny and you left for the quidditch pitch, several people all over the table patted you on the shoulders. Their shouted wishes of luck followed you all the way out of the Great Hall and down the grounds toward the stadium, where you were joined by the rest of the team.

Harry didn't bother with much of a speech, but after yesterday’s brawl, he seemed determined to wipe the smirk off of Malfoy’s face. A notion you couldn't object to. After revising your strategy, the team stepped out onto the pitch, where the Slytherins and Madam Hooch were already waiting. The hollers and booing of a green and red mass of people drowned out any other noise, like the splatter of rain.

The snowfall of the day before had been replaced by a thick rain that made it almost impossible to see farther than a few feet. Not very favorable conditions. You could barely make out Theo within the midst of the Slytherin players. Harry and Malfoy shook hands with particulars nasty scowls on their faces, before you all mounted your brooms and shot up into the rainy mist above. Madam Hooch released the quaffel, Ginny got a hold of it and the game was on.

It was almost impossible to differentiate between friend and foe when your vision was clouded by rain and mist. Your only reconciliation was that the Slytherins weren't any better off than you. It took at least ten minutes for the first goal by Slytherin that had only succeeded because an exasperated Theo had given up on the attempt to pass the Quaffel around as it would be inevitably lost to the mist or a Griffindor player, and did a lucky solo run, completely catching Ron off guard.

After some more failed attempts from both sides, Ginny finally managed to goal for Griffindor. You as well, a few minutes later, because one of Slytherin’s beaters flew into you full force, vision obstructed by the downpour, and Madam Hooch granted a free kick to you. But soon after that, Slytherin had the lead once more. As the game went on, it became increasingly hard to keep track of the score. Though you were pretty sure your team had earned sixty points, you had no idea how many goals Slytherin had. By now you were shaking and clattering your teeth and your hands felt frozen to your broom. If Harry didn't catch the snitch soon, you’d get frostbite.

Nobody flew in formation or followed strategy anymore. When Theo flew past you with the Quaffel, quickly approaching the rings, you took up the chase. You had lost sight of your third chaser for a while now, but you managed to attract Ginny’s attention, who followed you hot on your heels. Seeking cover, you let yourself drop to a few feet under Theo but did not lessen your speed. Waiting until he was only a short distance away from the rings and raised his hand with the Quaffel to dunk it into one of them, you made a sharp turn upwards.

It was risky, but you played on his protective instincts. Theo sensed an approaching figure and lowered his arm. You, on the other hand, shot towards him perpendicularly and caught him off guard. To avoid a collision which he -other than you- would have been able to pull through, Theo turned his broom in a rapid motion. Ginny used the opportunity to knock the Quaffel out of his hands. You caught it, locking eyes with a startled Theo for a split second, and the two of you set off in the direction of the Slytherin rings.

Steering your broom through green and red flashes, you accelerated your speed. Wherever your beaters were, they were doing a fantastic job, as you and Ginny passed through the Slytherins without any bludgers knocking you off your brooms, passing the Quaffel back and forth. When the rings came into sight, you took the lead, shielded your face against the rain to aim and threw the ball. It hit. But another thing hit, too.

WHAM

A sudden pain shot through your body and your hands slipped off your broom. It was so horrible you must have screamed, but your head and senses were numb and unresponsive. You were vaguely aware that the pain originated from your stomach region. That was all, before your body failed you and you could feel yourself falling into darkness.

“Open your eyes, idiota!”

You snapped your eyes open and the first thing you saw was Theo, hovering over you. Just then, you realized he was holding you in his arms and kneeling on the ground of the quidditch pitch. It could have only been a few seconds you blacked out, but judging by the stings and aching all over your body, as well as the fact you were lying beside the stands, you had knocked into the wooden wall of the stands in your fall, where he must’ve caught you. Oh crap. Theo had caught you.

“Get off!” you hushed, scrambling back to your feet even as pain shot through your body at the slightest movement. A particularly nasty ache made you stumble and Theo caught you once more, frowning at you. “Where does it hurt? Where did it hit you?” Oh, right. It must've been a bludger at last. “Can you hear me?” Theo asked and you registered the worry laced into every syllable. Raw, unconcealed fear.

“Y-yeah,” you gritted through clenched teeth and clawed at your side where the bludger had made its impact. It must've been shot from short distance, because rarely had a bludger hit hurt this bad. “Midriff, left side.”

When his hand brushed over the hurting spot, you let out a whimper of agony and Theo quickly retracted it. If it hadn't been for the pain clouding your mind, you’d have teased him for his visible distress. “Where's my broom?” you choked out and Theo looked at you incredulously. “You’re going to Madam Pomphrey, Tesoro. Now.”

“What?” you exclaimed, vaguely aware of voices approaching. You didn't have much time. “No, Theo, I need to play! One of my chasers has taken off, you’ll win! Wait, is that why you’re-”

“Cazzo , Tesoro,” Theo cursed, sending wary glances to the side. “I don't care about winning, I’ll throw the match with you if that's what it takes.”

Suddenly, a familiar voice shouted your name and Theo’s face hardened as Hermoine reached you, looking concerned and rather disheveled. “Are you okay? Madam Pomphrey is on the way.” Obviously under the impression that Theo was harassing you, she gave him a sinister scowl. “What are you doing here, Nott?”

Theo, who’d settled for a mask of indifference once more, let out a mere “tch”, set you down on the grass with a suspicious precariousness, and reached for his broom when-

“HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!” the commentator roared and you breathed out a sigh of relief. About time. “GRIFFINDOR WINS!” announced the speakers and even through the slashing and splashing of the rainfall, your ears were thrumming at the hollers and shouts from the Griffindors.

Though you couldn't see them approaching, soft thuds announced the arrival of your teammates around you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Theo walk over to his team where he ran into a furious Malfoy, gesticulating heatedly. “Are you okay?” Ginny asked as she and Harry kneeled down to your level. “That damn bludger,” Harry cursed, still holding the snitch. “That Slytherin beater hit you from a few feet distance, Madam Hooch should’ve given him a reprimand!”

“I’m okay,” you assured them and stood up shakily. Hermoine helped you support your weight. “Great job,” you told your brother, ruffling his unruly hair. “I was beginning to think we’d send an imposter in your place.” Even Harry laughed, though he still looked very disconcerted. “What was that guy Nott doing? Did he hex you?”

Oh, most certainly, yes.

“He caught me,” you said in a neutral voice, as if the mere mention of his name didn't have your stomach do cartwheels. Sceptical expressions surrounded you, but they all shrugged it off- all except Ginny. “I’d have gone after you,” she explained apologetically, “But Nott was shooting down like damn lightning and I didn't want to get in the way of that.”

“Weird guy,” you said in an effort to diffuse Hermoine's suspicious look. Harry stepped forward to support your weight, but you let go of Hermoine to demonstrate your walking ability. “I’m fine, I’m okay, just a little bruised up.”

Indeed, none of the others seemed very eager to concentrate on your injuries. Everyone was in the mood for celebration as they changed out of their quidditch robes, already planning the winners party. As they walked out one after the other, you volunteered for cleaning duties, an unpopular job, especially after a won match. “I’ll be there in ten,” you shouted after your brother and Ron leaving for the castle and shut the door.

With a pained groan, you sat down on one of the benches. You hadn't even changed yet, in fear of what you would find on your stomach. Earlier, Madam Pomphrey had cleared you while muttering about the dangers of Quidditch. She had recommended murtlap essence, and you checked the medical closet for it. You found a bottle of the potion and set it down on the bench. The sound of the pouring rain still pelting the roof of the changing room filled the quiet hair as you reached for the hem of your jersey, wincing as your shoulder protested the movement. You thought you were alone- until a quiet knock on the doorframe behind you made you freeze.

“Do you always take this long after a match, or are you just stalling?”

Theo's voice was low, but it carried a certain edge that hindered the casual tone. As you tugged your jersey down in a haste, you spun around to see him leaning against the doorframe. His hair was still damp from the rain, the dark locks were clinging to his forehead. The faintests of smiles tugged at his lips, but it was a little grim, matching the somber look in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you repeated the words you’d been echoing for the last half hour. You hoped a convincing smile would ease his nerves, but his gaze only sharpened when your casual shrug made you wince. “Don't lie to me, tesoro,” Theo said softly, drawing closer to you. He came to a halt and you frowned at the pained look in his eyes. “Bell is a maledetto coglione, Voleva ucciderti? Non hai idea di quanto desiderassi farlo cadere dalla scopa!”

Theo seemed to talk himself into a rage, rambling on in Italian as his careful hands brushed over your chin down your arms, inspecting your bruises and cuts. You wouldn't deny that you loved to hear him talk Italian, especially when his quiet voice was brimming with controlled fury. Fiddling with the hem of your jersey, you searched for his eyes but he didn't meet yours. “Theo?” you asked, locking your fingers so he would stop with his inspection. “Don't put Bell in the hospital wing again, yeah?”

Theo glared at you and freed his hand to guide you down onto the bench. “Take off your shirt.” Even though it was a purely practical request, you felt a surge of excitement and nervousness. You froze for a second, then held onto the hem of your jersey and attempted to pull it over your head, but flinched at the pain. Theo helped you, carefully prying it off of you.

Theo’s hands froze the moment the jersey slipped over your head, leaving your skin bare save for the bruises blooming across your ribs and shoulders. His usual sharp retorts or smirking comments were conspicuously absent as his eyes lingered, first on the angry purple marks and then, almost hesitantly, on the soft curve of your body.

He swallowed hard, his fingers brushing your arm lightly as if unsure where to look or how to act. “You’re… very hurt,” he murmured finally, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, but there was a flicker of something else -something unspoken- flickering in his gaze before he quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand. He reached for the murtlap serum, grabbing the air at first attempt before pulling himself together and seizing the bottle and a cloth.

No words were exchanged as he started tending to your bruises, first the large one on your midriff that was the color of an angry red. When his soft fingers, dapped in murtlap essence, touched your skin, you took a sharp inhale and breathed rapidly. Theo could have smothered himself for the lingering of his eyes on your chest. He attempted to keep his focus on you and started treating the bruise.

You felt the relief of pain in an instant and sighed. “Thanks, Theo.” A light grunt was all you got in response, but the tender care of his fingers was answer enough. Though the murtlap was cool, his his touch left you uncomfortably warm and you tried not to squirm under his deft fingers.

The topic of intimacy was still a shy topic in your relationship. You knew his prior liaisons had been primarily sexual. Thus, you avoided the topic, seeing as your experience was almost none next to his. In any of your relationships, you had never gone beyond kissing and making out, and didn't know wether Theo even knew you were a virgin, let alone wether he’d want to have sex with you after hearing it. Theo had never initiated anything either, seeming perfectly content with your relationship as it was. But you couldn't deny the occasional hunger, the daydreams, the not so innocent thoughts.

Theo’s voice caught your attention. His brows were furrowed as he worked on your scratches from the fall. “Should’ve kept looking out for bludgers, cara. Stupid gryffindor recklessness.” When you recognized the worry in his voice, you smiled and ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’ll make sure to do that.” He seemed content and locked your fingers. “Shirt goes on again, tesoro.”

The itching when you pulled your shirt over your head was nothing compared to the pain from before. As your eyes appeared over your collar once more, you saw Theo had stood up and was putting the murtlap essence back to its place of origin with a lot more fuzz than the task required. Maybe it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but he seemed to avert his eyes and avoided to look at you.

Before you could contemplate this, Theo had turned around once more and handed you your cloak. “We should get back to our teams before our absence is noticed.” You would have liked to say something to diffuse the light hint of bitterness in his voice, but Theo gave you a calming smile and was out of the door in an instant. Still, the rain brewed up a symphony on the roof of the changing rooms, but your own thoughts sounded too loud for you to notice.

The Gryffindor common room was a cacophony of sound and color, the flickering firelight mingling with enchanted banners that decked the walls in red and gold. Laughter and cheers echoed from every corner, the victorious chants of your teammates nearly drowning out the music. The smell of butterbeer wafted through the room, mixing with the damp, earthy scent of post-match rain that still clung to everyone’s robes.

You smiled faintly as Seamus led an exaggerated reenactment of the game on a table, nearly knocking over a platter of snacks, but the sheer noise of it all pressed against your temples, leaving you torn between wanting to join the celebration and retreating to somewhere quiet. When Seamus started pulling out fireworks, you slipped out of the room through the portrait hole for a quick withdrawal.

Knowing that some of the others, including your friends, had sneaked down to the kitchens to supply the party with more butterbeer and snacks, you took the path down to the dungeons. Though you tread lightly to avoid detection by Filch or Mrs Norris, the sound of your footsteps echoed of the walls as you hurried down the stairs. It was wonderfully quiet, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the Griffindor common room, and you relished in the fresh, cool air that turned more moist the deeper you went.

Just as you were about to turn around a corner, you collided with a hard chest. Your prior speed made you stumble and you fell, closing your eyes and shielding yourself for the impact. It didn't come. Opening your eyes, your were met with the infamous raised eyebrow of Theodore Nott, hovering only inches above you. You could be slapped yourself for the breathless “Hi” that escaped you, but it made his lips curl with cold amusement. “Hello, tesoro, where are you off to in such a haste?”

“Kitchens,” you said sheepishly as he pulled you back up and steadied you on your feet. Theo threw a quick glance around the corridor before he slipped his hands into his pockets and switched to a more relaxed stand. Under his heavy gaze, you played with your fingers, trying not to think about the way he had been looking at you in the changing rooms “I forgot to tell you before, you played good,” Theo complimented you softly.

“Thanks,” you smiled. It was a weird situation. Usually, the two of you only talked like this in secret corridors, abandoned classrooms, locked broom cupboards or the astronomy tower, not out in the open. But it was night, and you supposed it was fine. And even if… You had been contemplating it ever since your argument yesterday. Would it be the end of the world if you just talked to Harry and the others about it? Even if they disapproved, you didn't want Theo to feel like an accessory, and sneaking around was not as fun as you thought.

Theo seemed to sense your thoughts had wandered off elsewhere and stepped towards you until your chests almost touched. When he flicked your forehead, you flinched and swatted his hand away. “Hey!”

“What are you thinking about?” Theo asked in a soft but demanding tone. You sighed. “Nothing.” But Theo was not thrown off the scent so easily. Deliberate hands wandered to your hips as he prepared for the attack, but you were faster. You gripped the collar of his shirt, pulled him down by it and kissed him.

The reaction was immediate. You were pulled flush against his body, his hands roamed under your shirt to your bare back making you shudder. “Jeez, Nott, your hands are ice cold,” you mumbled between kisses, but Theo pushed you back against the wall and seized your lips, swallowing every sound, every whimper that fell from them eagerly. You noticed that he avoided your bruised spots as his hands trailed over your bare skin and couldn't help the rush of affection that surged through you at his care.

“Someone could see us,” Theo muttered into the kiss, but you merely whimpered needily and buried your hands in his soft curls. “Then they see us.” The answer seemed to spur him on. It was as if it had awakened some primal part of him, tucked away behind his usual composure. The kiss turned messy as your lips clashed into each other without the usual rhyme and reason. When your eyes met his for a split second, you saw the dark hunger swirling inside them and breathed in shakily. It only seemed to spur him on even more as his head dipped back down and you felt his thigh coming up between your legs, eliciting a pathetic little whimper from you.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”

Theo and you surged apart, or rather, you scrambled away and he made sure you didn't trip and fall in your haste to put some space between the two of you. Harry, Ron and Hermoine, as well as some other embarrassed looking griffindors, stood a few feet away from you, having just rounded the corner. Their arms were full of pastries, snacks and bottles of butterbeer and lemonade, safe for Harry's, who seemed to have dropped his load at the sight of you and Theo.

“What's it look like I'm doing?” you asked, chest heaving and hair probably a mess. Glancing at Theo, you saw he had leaned against the wall, watching Harry with sharp eyes. The message was clear. He left it up to you to resolve this, but the second Harry stepped over the line, he was a goner.

Your brother shook his head wildly, as if he couldn't believe what was happening and planned to shake the image out of his memory. He called your name incensedly. “Tell me I didn't just see you snogging Theodore Nott in the dungeons.”

With a quick glance at Theo, you decided it was all in. “Would you rather have me snog him in the astronomy tower?” you asked, a hint of sass creeping into your tone. “Because that's what I've been doing for the last months.” Ron and Hermoine looked at each other incredulously, but Harry looked straight up furious as he kicked the pastries aside to step closer to you. When you saw the look in his eyes and caught Theo's slight movement in the corner of your eye, you suddenly began to worry about an altercation between the two. An altercation that, with all your love for him, Harry had no chances of winning.

Harry had caught Theo’s movement as well and turned to him abruptly. “If you think I’m going to stand by and let this happen, you’ve got another thing coming.” You could've kissed Theo for remaining where he stood without blinking, leaving it up to you to resolve this. “Look, Harry,” you tried the diplomatical route. “Would you just listen to m-”

“Do you even know who he is? What he stands for?” Harry cut you off. You were hit with the sudden realization that the footsteps of multiple people were drawing closer, and indeed, a group of Slytherins that had been awoken by the sudden noise appeared in the hallway next to you, watching the conflict with great interest. “I know perfectly well-” you tried to answer but again, Harry didn't let you finish. “His father is a death eater! What, does that excite you?”

“Excuse me?” you hissed and saw Theo shift slightly. “Are you even listening to yourself right now, Harry?” But he probably wasn't. Your brother looked just about ready to tear down walls and you began to doubt wether you could even reason with him about this. “That's a horrible thing to say,” you shot back, folding your arms over your chest. “And Theo’s not his father.”

“Theo? Oh yes?” Harry said angrily, ignoring Hermoine tugging at his robes in an effort to calm him down. “He's just as bad as the rest of them, I don't know how you could be this naive!”

“Is it impossible for you to even entertain the possibility that I can look out for myself?” You hadn't realized you were shouting now as well. “Would you, just for one second, consider that I have a mind and a life of my own? That I can be trusted to make decisions in my life without you chiming in and questioning them?” Your breathing was labored and you tried to calm down, lowering your voice. “Why can't you accept that this was my choice, and it's a valid one? Why would you think you know Theo better than me? Do you think I can't trust my judgement, that I'm just a love-sick, hysterical, stupid schoolgirl who can't descipher reality and delusion?”

“Maybe you are!” Harry bellowed and you flinched, a sudden wave of hurt crashing down on you.

“You say that again,” a voice, soft and eerily composed, said, “and you’ll regret it.” The words hung gravely in the air as everyone, including the groups of Griffindors and Slytherins, stared at Theo, stunned by the both deliberate and utterly terrifying tone of his voice. But the speechlessness didn't last long.

“After everything we’ve been through,” Harry hissed at you, hurt brimming in his eyes, “this is how you repay me? By sneaking around with him?” His fists were clenched at his sides and he paid no attention to Hermoine's pleas to just leave.

“This isnt about you,” you breathed, aghast at his nerve, “This is about me. For once, this is just about me! God, Harry, why are you being so self-centered? This has nothing to do with you!”

“It has everything to do with me!” Harry shouted, stepping even closer. “I just don't get how you could be so stupid! You think he cares about you? He’s a Slytherin- he’s probably using you!” His words were hurtful and they stung worse than the bruises from earlier, but Harry wasn't done yet. “What happens when he gets bored of you? Have you thought about that? If you think Theodore Nott is interested in you, you’re even more naive than I thought.”

You knew he didn't mean it that way. But it still hurt you. This assumption that Theo could never like you for you, could never be interested in you apart from the fact that you were Harry Potter’s sister. That there was nothing about you that made you special, or lovable. That you had no idea what you were doing and no agency of your own. Just a stupid little girl fooling around with something she didn't understand. He was wrong. You told it to yourself over and over in your head as you stared at him silently, watching his anger shift into something else. He was wrong, Theo liked you. Right? But what did he like about you? What was there about you?

You hadn't realized you were crying, you only registered it when Theo himself stepped forward. Apart from the most threatening death glare you had ever seen from him, he didn't attack Harry. His attention was fixed on you, as if he was waiting for your command. But you could only stand there, under the eyes of your classmates, as tears ran down your face.

Harry seemed to realize now what he had said and took a step forward, but you took one back and let out a dry laugh. No words came out. Even if you had some to shoot back, defend Theo or stand up for yourself, they wouldn't have made it past the lump in your throat. Swallowing hard, you took another step back, then another, and before you knew it, you were fleeing up the stairs, ignoring the shouts behind you. You didn't know wether they were directed at you, or Harry, or Theo. You only wanted to get away.

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#harry potter #harry potter x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you

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my-castles-crumbling · 4 days ago

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skirt - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 353

“C’mon, Reg!” Barty called up to him from the bottom of the stairs to the Common Room. “I’m sure it’s not that bad!”

“Yeah, just like it ‘wasn’t that bad’ when you pissed yourself in front of the entire Great Hall in second year!” Regulus retorted, refusing to go down another step.

But it was Evan who spurred him into action. “Are you really going to let the Gryffindors think we Slytherins can’t take a dare?”

So he began to walk down, grumbling the entire time, shifting uncomfortably and pulling at his clothing. When he finally found himself level with Barty and Even, Barty clapped him on the back. “There. Not so bad, is it?” Barty asked bracingly.

“You’re not the one in a skirt,” Regulus mumbled sourly.

It had been part of a Gryffindor versus Slytherin bet. Losing team had to host a victory party for the winners, and wear skirts the entire night. Dorcas called the whole thing ‘sexist and stupid’ but Regulus was still nervous as he walked into the packed Common Room.

“You look good, honestly,” Evan shrugged. “You have nice legs.”

“He- he what?” Barty gaped, looking rather furious.

But Regulus was over the entire thing. He pushed past his two best friends and went to find a drink.

And for a while, things were fine. Nobody really said anything. The shock factor had worn off long before he’d come down to join the party and he thought that maybe he could get away with surviving the night without comment.

Until he noticed James Potter staring at him unabashedly, his mouth wide open and his cheeks pink.

“What’re you looking at?” he sneered, trying to mask his nervousness.

But it was Potter who ended up stuttering. “I…er…I….fuck,” he mumbled, scrubbing at his face. “Nothing, it’s just…you look good, Regulus,” he said, voice genuine, as he looked him up and down.

“Oh. Thanks,” he said, blinking in shock before jutting his chin in the air.

And if he purposely swayed his hips a bit as he walked away so Potter had something to look at, well….that was his business.

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whizzing-fizzbee · 1 month ago

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This Is How It Starts

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC) (And some temporary Andrew Larson x Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+, MDNI (shameless smut, profanity), all characters are 18+ Words: 10,402 Themes: friends to lovers, sexual tension, sexual frustration, shitty boyfriends

Summary: You're going absolutely, utterly mental. Your boyfriend, Andrew Larson, hasn't touched you in weeks and you're growing desperate. When he's unwilling to help relieve your sexual tension, your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, always has your back.

Notes: This one's mainly just some shameless smut. Characters are 18-year-old seventh years. Reader is female MC. Inspired by "Sex" by The 1975.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

You blew a puff of air upward, hoping it would release the strand of hair that was currently plastered to your face. Sweat trickled from your hairline, over your temples and down your neck until it disappeared beneath your shirt collar.

It was abnormally hot outside, but there was no chance you were going to miss the quidditch final. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, a rivalry that promised a match for the ages – not to mention your very best friend was a Slytherin beater.

“Get him, Seb!” you screamed as your best friend whizzed overhead in pursuit of a bludger. Slytherin had a 40-point lead and the match was approaching its second hour of play. Gryffindor was holding its own, but its players were clearly growing weary against Slytherin’s physical and aggressive style of play. If the Slytherin seeker could just catch that damn snitch, the party could start.

Suddenly, the Slytherin seeker initiated a sharp nose dive and you screamed in encouragement. She hurtled toward the ground, two Gryffindors tailing close behind in an attempt to knock her off course. Their desperation was palpable and you feared they might knock her off her broom if she got too close to the snitch.

Sebastian was attempting to corral another bludger. You watched nervously as his eyes narrowed in concentration, his bat raised until he connected it with the bludger. It careened toward the Gryffindors, forcing them to abandon their path.

“Yes, go, go, go!” you screamed so loud, Ominis Gaunt had to cover his ears from his seat next to you. You had dragged the poor boy along to the match, despite his incessant reminders that he would be unable to see any of the action. But he was the other third of your trio and the undeniable glue that held you and Sebastian together, so you convinced him that Sebastian deserved both of your support that day.

“Go, Alice, go!” you screamed at the seeker, silently praying your housemate would come through for Slytherin. She inched closer and closer to the ground, her fist closing around the snitch with about five feet to spare.

The stadium erupted in a frenzy. You grabbed Ominis by the head, hugging him to your chest as you screamed and bounced in elation. He squawked in protest, but even he couldn’t conceal the smile that had formed across his lips.

The Slytherin team descended to the center of the quidditch pitch until they piled up in a massive group hug. You laughed as you spotted Sebastian at the bottom of the pile, his grin clear even from your seats high up in the stands.

Headmaster Black strode to the center of the pitch with Madam Kogawa carrying the quidditch cup close behind. Professor Sharp met them and motioned for the Slytherin team to gather around, where he presented them with the cup.

The Slytherins in the stands roared with applause and you whistled as loud as you could, drawing another annoyed glance from Ominis.

“Come on, let’s get down there!” you said, tugging on the sleeve of Ominis’ robe.

“Yes, mother,” he sighed as he drew his wand, its red tip guiding him as you pulled him through the sea of students.

Once you reached the bottom of the staircase, your eyes scanned the grounds in search of Sebastian. Sad and angry Gryffindors shoved past you, coaxing a laugh from you as you continued toward the center of the pitch. Finally, you spotted Sebastian engaged in an animated chat with Imelda Reyes, who was smiling smugly while the rest of their team continued to celebrate with the cup hoisted into the air.

“Sebastian!” you screeched as you launched yourself toward the boy. You threw your arms around him and leapt, your legs wrapping around his torso as he stumbled backward to brace his balance. “You did it!” you practically screamed in his face. You hugged him tightly as more bodies clad in green flooded onto the pitch.

Sebastian offered you a goofy grin as he supported your weight, his arms squeezing you tightly so you wouldn’t slip.

“That boyfriend of yours is going to kill me,” he murmured in your ear. You drew backward slightly to give him a pointed look.

“You and I both know you’d demolish him in a duel,” you said.

“Can’t argue with that,” Sebastian said with a shrug. He set you on your feet and draped an arm around your shoulder. “I’m going to get cleaned up and changed. See you at the after party?”

“I’ve got a bottle of firewhiskey with your name on it.”

You skipped off to find Ominis again, but were instead met by your boyfriend. He was leaning against the entrance archway of the pitch, his arms crossed as his stare followed you. You sighed to yourself and begrudgingly trudged toward him.

“Hey,” you said, your tone much more feeble compared to the shouting and squealing you’d done moments ago.

“Hey.” You could tell he was cross with you from the way his jaw clenched, though his eyes were calm and cool.

“Some match, huh?” you said cheerily, hoping you could bring his mood up rather than the opposite.

“Sure was.”

He was clearly in no mood to discuss quidditch, so you slipped your arm through his. “You okay?” you asked.

“I was until I saw you and Sallow.”

“Andrew,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping in frustration. “I’ve told you a million times, it’s not like that with Sebastian.”

“And I’ve told you a million times that I’m not comfortable with the way you two egg each other on,” Andrew replied hotly. “The way you two carry on is improper and it’s disrespectful to me. His reputation is going to ruin yours.”

Sebastian was a known flirt who had earned a reputation for his extracurricular activities with half of the girls who attended Hogwarts. He didn’t have girlfriends, though, and you secretly wondered if he’d ever settle down. As a result, your friendship with Sebastian had endured its fair share of rumors and speculation as people wondered if you’d ever venture past the threshold of platonic kindred spirits.

“We’re just friends,” you tried, but Andrew glared to cut you off.

“Yes, I get it,” he snapped. “You, Sallow and Gaunt, Slytherin’s special little trio. But you’re my girlfriend.”

“You’re right,” you sighed, already tired of fighting. You didn’t want Andrew to feel slighted by you. If the tables were turned and some girl was climbing all over him, you knew you wouldn’t like it.

But you and Andrew were vastly different. You were bolder, more outspoken and adventurous. Hell, you were the hero of Hogwarts two years ago when you saved the school from Ranrok.

Andrew was more studious and reserved, a true Ravenclaw. Professors liked him, but for reasons that differed from the way they liked you. You were creative and savvy when it came to magic, whereas Andrew boasted the kind of intelligence that manifested in the form of logic and reason.

When you first started dating Andrew, Ominis and Sebastian laughed at you. They teased you like brothers, poking fun at your new boyfriend.

“Has he even been in a duel, ever?” Sebastian had chortled.

“And isn’t he friends with Puffskein Duncan?” Ominis added.

You chided them for their judgment and teasing, but Ominis, ever the prim and proper gentleman, later pulled you aside to tell you he was happy for you. He said Andrew was smart and would take good care of you, to which you snorted and reminded Ominis this was merely a teenage romance. You couldn’t see yourself invested in anything long-term with Andrew and were merely interested to see where your relationship would lead.

When you mentioned this to Sebastian in passing one morning as the two of you lounged in the Slytherin Common Room, he snickered.

“So Larson’s too dry to earn any consideration for a long-term commitment?” he mused.

"I've used Crucio on you before. Don't think I won't do it again," you warned.

"I'm just saying! Seems like he's a giant waste of time."

You huffed at him in annoyance. “While he and I likely won’t make it beyond Hogwarts, I’d appreciate it if you’d at least respect our relationship for its duration,” you scolded.

“The only thing I respect about Larson is that he somehow managed to finesse the school’s most eligible bachelorette into dating him,” Sebastian quipped. You rolled your eyes and hit him with a sofa cushion. “But seriously, what do you see in him?”

“He’s… smart,” you replied, which merely provoked a menacing laugh from Sebastian.

“Smart,” he repeated blankly.

“And he’s creative,” you continued. “And handsome.”

“What exactly do the two of you even talk about?” Sebastian asked, leaning forward curiously. “I mean, you’re complete opposites. What do you have in common?”

He wasn’t wrong. Most students were quick to point out that you and Andrew were an unlikely pair when you began dating. But you were attracted to Andrew. He was tall and handsome with an assured smile and composure.

“Opposites attract,” you quipped. “Some balance is good every now and then.” You weren’t sure you actually believed that statement, but you were going to pretend for now.

That was six months ago and now, the inevitable end to your Hogwarts days was approaching. You and Andrew hadn’t discussed your future as a couple, but you weren’t in any rush to do so – especially since you hardly felt like a couple these days.

The upcoming N.E.W.T.s had taken priority for all seventh years. Even Sebastian had been spending an uncharacteristic amount of time studying in the Undercroft. The two of you both aspired to be curse breakers, but the most coveted positions – curse breaking for Gringotts – were limited to two.

You were a shoo-in for one of the spots, given your famed history and experience. All you needed to do was score high on your N.E.W.T.s, which you were confident you’d ace. Sebastian should have been a certain choice for Gringotts as well, but he couldn’t exactly reveal all of the research and hands-on experience he had gained while trying to reverse Anne’s curse during his fifth year without raising suspicion.

“Are you coming to the Slytherin victory party?” you finally asked Andrew, hoping your innocent upward gaze would soften his mood.

Instead, he blinked at you. “I’m a Ravenclaw,” he deadpanned.

The evening sky was growing darker, and you knew the celebration would be underway soon. The dinner hour in the Great Hall had nearly passed, but there would be a plethora of sweets and snacks to indulge in at the party. You were eager for an evening of frivolity with your friends, as you knew your time with them was limited.

“But you’re invited to the party if you’re with me,” you said hopefully. “You can come and stay just for a bit.”

“A Slytherin celebration has detention written all over it. I was hoping you’d join me on the Astronomy Tower instead.”

Normally, you’d die before missing a single second of a Slytherin party, especially one to celebrate a quidditch cup victory. But the party was sure to continue late into the night, meaning you’d likely have time to enjoy it later.

A trip to the Astronomy Tower was much more important now, not because you gave a flying fuck about stargazing, but because you could get laid.

It’d been weeks since Andrew had touched you, and you were becoming a restless, coiled, ticking time bomb. You were an 18-year-old with wants and needs, but your stupid boyfriend had been more concerned with his N.E.W.T.s than sex as of late.

The Astronomy Tower was a common spot for romantic rendezvous, particularly for students in separate houses. You and Andrew had frequented it much more at the start of your relationship until you introduced him to the privacy of the Room of Requirement, but some nostalgia for the sake of sex was too appealing to reject.

“That sounds nice,” you said carefully, your grip giving Andrew’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’d love that.”

“Good,” Andrew said with a firm nod. “Shall we head there now?”

“Yes, please.” You allowed him to steer you from the quidditch stadium and back toward the castle. Clusters of students laughed and chattered around you, and you occasionally paused your route to the Astronomy Tower to discuss the events of the quidditch match with them.

As you stopped to say hello to Arthur Plummly, Andrew grunted in annoyance. He was clearly tired of waiting on you to finish socializing, so you merely waved to Arthur and continued to the Astronomy Wing. Perhaps Andrew was just as eager as you to relieve some year-end tension. The thought made heat rise through your body, flushing your cheeks.

The tower was quiet as most students were either celebrating Slytherin’s victory or licking their wounds in defeat. Once you reached the upper level and confirmed you and Andrew were alone, you grinned at him. You were already aching between your legs, desperate to be touched by someone other than yourself.

The air was much cooler at such a high point, the breeze drifting through the tower and its vacant telescopes. You shed your school robe and turned to Andrew to reach for his, gripping the front in earnest as you pulled him into a kiss. You kissed him hungrily as you stepped toward him, pressing your hips against his.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, craning his neck to break the kiss. You froze and rocked from your toes back down to your heels as you released his robes.

“What do you mean?” you asked stupidly. “I thought you wanted to-”

“No, not tonight, love.” His tone was gentle but you could see the irritation in his eyes. “I actually need to stargaze. I want to be sure I can identify Lyra in case it’s on the exam.”

You sucked on your top row of teeth to stop yourself from screaming in frustration.

“Can’t it wait, just a quick twenty minutes?” you asked.

“No, love. I’ve got to get this done.”

You knew there was no changing his mind, not that you wanted to at this point. The anticipation and desire you felt earlier had extinguished, now replaced by a sense of rejection.

“All right,” you sighed, stooping down to pick up your house robe. “I guess I’ll head to the party then. See you at breakfast?”

Andrew pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and smiled at you. “Goodnight, love.”

The trek down to the dungeons was cold and lonely. You weren’t used to rejection, but it had become a common occurrence from Andrew in recent weeks. It made you wonder if there was something wrong with you, that something had changed to make Andrew no longer lust after you.

You hadn’t changed much physically since the start of your seventh year. If anything, certain physical attributes had improved, at least in your opinion – and the opinion of the Hogwarts male population. Your chest had filled out nicely and your curves were more evident now. If Andrew no longer found you attractive, it surely wasn’t your fault, right?

You didn’t have long to brood, though. As you neared the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, you could feel the pulse of music vibrating through the stone walls. You smirked to yourself, ready to forget about your vapid excuse for a boyfriend for the evening.

“There you are!” Sebastian spotted you instantly as you entered the Common Room.

“There you are!” you laughed as you took in his appearance. His hair was more tousled than ever and he was holding a bottle of firewhiskey in each hand.

“Where’ve you been?” he demanded as he ushered you further into the room. “Nevermind that. Let’s get you a drink. Who has the firewhiskey?” he called out.

“Sebastian,” you snorted. “You have it.”

“Oh. Right. Well let’s get you a glass then.”

One glass quickly turned into three, and you eventually lost count by the end of the night. Students from other houses came and went, and you enjoyed the presence of your friends and classmates.

Sebastian was the life of the party, per usual. He’d periodically disrupt the music and laughter to climb on top of a study table, his glass raised in a ridiculous toast.

“To Chinese chomping cabbages!” he declared during one toast.

“To Professor Ronen’s beard!” he said during another. Each toast was followed by a roar of agreement from the crowd, no matter how absurd, which Sebastian reveled in with glee.

You laughed through it all, especially when Ominis, who had been lurking in a corner of the Common Room as an innocent bystander, was pushed toward Imelda Reyes to dance. By their third dance, you could feel Sebastian looming behind you as he watched Ominis with delight.

“Someone ought to rescue him,” he said in your ear. “It’s not going to be me, but someone should eventually.”

“I don’t know, he seems to be enjoying himself,” you mused. “I think I’ll take a night off from saving our poor friend from social expectations.”

Sebastian snickered and sauntered off. Your eyes followed him as he stumbled toward the stairs. You followed after him, your own inebriation stalling you as you steadied yourself.

“Sebastian!” you called after him. He spun to peer down at you as he reached the top of the steps. “Where are you going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared toward the dormitories. You scurried after him and watched as he slipped into his dorm room.

“Bailing on the party?” you asked as you shoved your way through the door. You’d been in that dorm numerous times, so the sight of unmade beds, cluttered desks and piles of books didn’t faze you as you sat on the bed next to Sebastian, who had flopped backward with his arms resting lazily behind his head.

“I’m tired,” he declared, his eyes watching you carefully. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a quidditch hero.”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Alice was the one who caught the snitch,” you pointed out.

“Ah, but she wouldn’t have reached it if it hadn’t been for my bludger,” Sebastian said proudly. You couldn’t argue with that. Instead, you rested back on your elbows, your legs dangling off the side of the bed.

Sebastian’s eyes fluttered shut and you studied him for a quiet moment. Your best friend was devilishly handsome. Though he maintained his boyish charm, he was certainly not the same kid you met at age fifteen. Now, Sebastian was tall and broad-shouldered, toned and sturdy, much more of a man than a boy.

“Want me to let you get some sleep?” you asked.

“No, stay. I’m just resting my eyes. I’ll get a second wind eventually.”

“Sebastian, it’s after midnight.”

“Time is a social construct,” came his quick reply. You snorted and shifted your gaze to the remainder of the room. You spotted Ominis’ bed, the only one neatly made, its curtains drawn shut. As you found yourself wondering what else went on in this room, you failed to notice Sebastian’s stare.

“So where were you anyway?”

You turned to look at Sebastian, who had one eye open.

“What do you mean?”

“You showed up late to the party.”

You heaved a sigh as the source of your less-than-ideal evening returned to the forefront of your mind. “I was with Andrew.”

“Ah. A quick little escapade before the party.”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” you said with a bitter laugh.

“Oh? It couldn’t have taken that long. You were late, but only by a half-hour or so.”

“Were you keeping track of time?”

“More like I was keeping track of you.”

You rolled your eyes. Sebastian, ever the protector. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you noted. “But we went up to the Astronomy Tower.”

Sebastian blinked in confusion. “But I thought you said you weren't hooking up.”

You groaned in annoyance. Though you and Sebastian were open books with one another, you didn’t feel very compelled to share the intimate details of your sex life – or lack thereof – with your best friend. Sure, you talked about sex, but the topic felt a bit more suggestive when you were alone on Sebastian's bed describing your own boyfriend's disinterest.

But the tension you’d been carrying for weeks was mounting, and before you could stop yourself, you said, “It wasn’t anything. Andrew and I haven’t… done that in weeks.”

That had Sebastian’s attention. His other eye popped open and he sat up, not bothering to mask his curious gaze.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

You exhaled slowly, averting your eyes to the dark wood floor. “Andrew hasn’t touched me in weeks.”

“And by touched, you mean…”

You whipped your body around, the sudden movement causing Sebastian to flinch as you stared directly into his eyes.

“My boyfriend. Won’t. Fuck me,” you said slowly and deliberately.

Sebastian gaped at you. It was clear he was at a loss for words, and if you hadn’t been the center of the discussion, you likely would have laughed at his dumbfounded expression.

“Well, what’s wrong with him?” Sebastian asked.

“He’s too focused on his N.E.W.T.s. He just wants to study constantly.”

“With all due respect, I’ve been pretty well focused on studying too,” Sebastian said. “But that hasn’t stopped me from enjoying myself.”

“Yeah well, that makes one of us,” you muttered.

“But you’ve… you’ve tried to- to fuck him, right?” Sebastian asked.

“Of course, I have!” you snapped, instantly horrified by your tense response. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Sebastian, however, flashed his canines in amusement. “Merlin, Larson really does have you worked into a tight little knot,” he mused.

“It’s not funny!” you groaned as you buried your face in your hands in misery.

"You’re right, it’s not,” Sebastian said, though you could still hear traces of a teasing tone in his voice.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you faster than you killed Solomon,” you hissed.

Sebastian barked a laugh. “I promise to tell no one,” he said. “But you really ought to take care of your… unfortunate situation. All that sexual tension is turning you rather violent.”

“Don’t you think I’d do something if I could?”

“Well, have you, you know, taken care of it by yourself?”

“Sebastian,” you warned, warmth creeping up the back of your neck.

“I’m just saying. I doubt you’d let anyone else assist you. Use your hands.”

“These hands are going to strangle you if you don’t shut up.”

“I could only be so lucky.”

“Sebastian!”

“Why don’t you just break up with him?”

“What?”

“You said it yourself, it was just meant to be a teenage romance,” Sebastian reminded you. “But you’re an adult now. Maybe you need a more adultlike relationship with someone who’s a little more willing to satiate your adult needs.”

“Say adult one more fucking time.”

“Adult.” You threw a pillow at him and he chortled. “But seriously,” Sebastian continued. “Why are you still with him?”

“Because it’s complicated,” you sighed. “I really do care for him. I can’t break up with him just because we’ve hit a rough patch.”

“Rough patch? Darling, this is a full-blown pit of Venomous Tentacula.”

“Easy for you to say, considering you’ve never had a serious relationship in your entire life,” you sneered.

Sebastian merely shrugged. “No one worth the time and effort has become available to me,” he said.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m not the one refusing to fuck you because I’m fretting over some stupid exams.”

The mere notion of having sex with Sebastian made your stomach flip. He was the one boy who appeared wholly unaffected by your looks and charm, though the same could be said vice-versa.

You hid your attraction to Sebastian well, suppressed in a secret, dark place, deeper than any repository. The only time it ever surfaced was when you were alone in bed at night, your fingers relieving yourself while your mind fantasized over the one person you couldn’t have.

“Even if I did break up with him, I’d have to start all over,” you noted. “I’d have to find someone else to get me off.”

Sebastian let out a silly laugh that almost sounded like a giggle. “Darling, please,” he deadpanned. “Like you’d have any trouble finding someone to fuck you. You could step into the Common Room right now and there’d be a line out the door.”

“You make it sound like I’m the biggest tramp to trapeze through Hogwarts,” you muttered.

“No, that award goes to Imelda.”

“Besides, I’m sure everything will return to normal soon,” you continued, hoping your tone sounded more assured than miserable.

Sebastian eyed you quietly, which made you shift nervously on your spot on the side of the bed. The sexually charged conversation had you hot and bothered, suddenly eager to return to your own dorm room. “Hopefully, for your sake,” he finally yawned. “But Larson clearly doesn’t realize how ignorant he is. If it were me, you’d barely be able to walk anymore.”

“Sebastian!”

---

The spring air should have met your senses with peace and placidity. It was a week later and most of the Hogwarts student body was taking advantage of the weather.

Students were scattered across the castle and its outdoor areas; some lounged lazily in the courtyards while others stretched across the grass at the center of the quidditch pitch.

You wanted to join them, but for some abhorrent reason, you were currently sitting inside the library of all places. It was hot and stuffy in there, the scent of the books and their aging pages filling your nostrils when you should have been outside enjoying the scent of the blooming flowers or the handfuls of bubblegum you’d purchased from Honeyduke’s.

But no, you were presently leaning with your elbows on one of the library’s long tables, pouting as you watched Andrew study. The two of you were nearly the only ones in the entire place, save for a few of the more recluse and antisocial students who would probably disintegrate in the sunlight anyway.

Your gaze fell on one boy – you forgot his name – who was hours deep into a Potions book. He was thin and pale, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was a vampire. The thought made you snort, which provoked a glare from Andrew.

You huffed a sigh as he returned to his reading. You studied him quietly and couldn’t help but smirk with lust.

Even though you were currently annoyed with him and his insistence on being a bookworm, he was so undoubtedly handsome. His sandy brown hair was parted to the side, his pretty green eyes darting across the lines of his Transfiguration book. His tall frame was currently hunched over the table, but when he sat back in his chair, his broad shoulders would rise and his long legs would stretch beneath the table.

Every so often, his brows would furrow as he mulled over the prose on the page, or he’d subconsciously chew at his bottom lip in an adorable way that made you want to climb him like a tree.

Watching him focus his attention on anything but you made you fidget and squirm. He still hadn’t touched you in weeks.

Of course, you understood that your Ravenclaw boyfriend was fixated on his studies. You took your education seriously, too, but you also recognized the importance of some self-care. A 20-minute study break to indulge in some sex wouldn’t kill you. Another day without it, however, just might.

You squeezed your thighs together, but the pressure only escalated the ache between them. You tried crossing and uncrossing your legs, but thoughts of something, anything, anyone between them were starting to consume you.

You decided to take matters into your own hands. Surely you could turn on the charm and tempt Andrew now, in the dimly lit ambience of the quiet library. Most boys in the school would die to be in his shoes. How could he possibly resist you after weeks of abstaining?

You leaned forward in your chair, your lips puffed out in a slight pout as you dipped your head just enough that you had to gaze upward at him with flirtatious eyes. You offered Andrew your best doe-eyed stare as you used the top of your foot to gently nudge his leg beneath the table.

He didn’t seem to notice at first, so you shifted in your seat to lean backward, puffing your chest out in hopes he’d be turned on by your breasts. The fabric of your blouse stretched taut over them, tightening as you stretched your shoulders. Your foot inched higher up his leg until you slowly dragged it downward again.

Still no response. It was absolutely maddening. Finally, you leaned forward again, your hand finding Andrew’s knee beneath the table. Your eyes swept the room to ensure Madam Scribner was nowhere in sight, your hand creeping up Andrew’s thigh until it met his groin. You slowly ran your palm over his crotch, hoping to stir his arousal.

Instead, he jerked his head up, the chair scraping loudly across the wood floor as he pushed backward from the table.

“What are you doing?” he hissed angrily.

You blinked in disbelief. Other boys would have finished in their own pants by now, but your own boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to even entertain your desires.

“Fine,” you said, pushing your own chair backward as you stood, your eyes narrowed at Andrew. “I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands. Or someone else’s.”

“What does that mean?” Andrew demanded. Your voices were rising and others were looking on in annoyance at the interruption.

“It means that if you aren’t going to fuck me, I’ll find someone who will,” you hissed bluntly. Andrew gaped at your lack of propriety, but you had no interest in pretending to be concerned for your image. “See you later.”

You stormed out of the library just as Madam Scribner surfaced to shush you. You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, making a beeline for the nearest castle exit.

Sunlight spilled across the Hogwarts grounds and you closed your eyes to appreciate its warmth. It spread across your skin, its heat exacerbating the fire that was ripping through your insides.

You weren’t actually on the hunt for the first male who would be willing to fuck. Even at your most feral, you had a little more dignity than that. You could relieve yourself of the tension in your core in private soon enough, but right now, you simply needed to get it all off your chest. You needed Sebastian.

But where was he?

He could be anywhere on a warm Saturday like this. Sometimes he liked to fly around the Highlands. Other times, he could be found socializing in the courtyard or in search of someone to duel… The Clock Tower. He had to be there.

You made a beeline for the Clock Tower Entrance and silently celebrated the familiar sight of Sebastian embattled in a friendly duel. You leaned against the archway as you watched him make quick work of Leander Prewett, ending the duel with a well-timed Expulso that sent Leander sprawling.

“Nice work,” you quipped as the duel ended and students began to disperse from the Clock Tower.

“Nothing to it,” Sebastian said as he pocketed his wand. He eyed your appearance and frowned. “What are you doing here? I thought you retired from Crossed Wands since no one could beat you?”

“Don’t fret, I’m still retired. I was looking for you.”

“At your service, darling. What’s up?”

You glanced around the room, where Lucan Brattleby was engaged in conversation with Nerida Roberts. “Not here,” you said. “Follow me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You led Sebastian by the hand inside the castle, your pace so quick he had to jog to keep up with you.

“Where are you going?” he demanded as you continued past the path to the Undercroft.

“Someplace private,” you answered simply.

“But the Under-”

“Someplace even more private.”

Finally, Sebastian understood. Besides Andrew, he was the only person you’d taken to the Room of Requirement, where the two of you occasionally brewed your own potions or provided Ominis with a break from your antics. You knew curiosity was clawing away at him, and your own impatience made you hasten your steps until you were at a full run.

Sebastian chased after you, question after question spilling from his mouth as he scrambled to keep up. It was all so ridiculous, you couldn’t help but laugh as you sprinted through the castle’s halls together until you reached the stairwell toward the Room of Requirement.

“Slow down!” Sebastian laughed as you continued up the stairs. Your legs burned by the time you reached the top, but you said nothing as you approached the Room of Requirement, its entrance making way for you per usual.

“Been a while since I’ve been in here,” Sebastian said as he gazed around the room. He followed you to the sofas tucked away in the side room, where he promptly sat down and made himself comfortable. You, however, continued to pace back and forth in front of him.

You felt like a fucking cat in heat. Your mind raced at the argument you’d just had with Andrew. Was that your breakup? You couldn’t even be sure, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to care. The fact that Andrew didn’t chase after you when you left the library spoke volumes. And the fact that all you wanted was to dig your nails into Sebastian’s back and scream his name was probably the clearest indication that your relationship was over.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked, his eyes weighted with concern as he watched you pace.

“Andrew,” was the best answer you could provide.

Sebastian’s eyes darkened with a familiarity you’d learned to recognize over the past three years. It was a clash of protectiveness and vigilance. “What did he do?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” you breathed hastily in an attempt to keep him calm. The last thing you needed was your best friend to hex your boyfriend, even if he was your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. “He just… we got into an argument in the library and I stormed out.”

“What were you arguing about?”

You hovered in front of a bookcase against the wall, unsure how to broach the subject. This was Sebastian, the boy who never judged you. He was your best friend and closest confidant. He had your back unconditionally and shared your darkest secrets. How could something as unprofound as sex be such a taboo topic?

“He still won’t have sex with me,” you finally blurted out. Sebastian’s eyes widened at your revelation. Sure, the two of you had just discussed it a week prior, but that was when you were both drunk, riding the high of a post-party haze. “I can’t take it anymore,” you continued. “It isn’t fair.”

Sebastian’s smirk returned and you made a silent vow to hex him into oblivion if he dared to laugh at you.

“You’re right, it isn’t fair,” he said sincerely. “Darling, please tell me you broke up with the sorry excuse of a lad.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I told him…” you huffed in embarrassment. “I told him if he wouldn’t fuck me, I’d find someone who would.”

The laughter that escaped Sebastian’s lips was borderline alarming. He hunched over and clutched his sides until he had to catch his breath.

“Merlin, you really are a horny little minx, aren’t you?” he grinned.

“It’s not funny!”

“You’re right, it’s not. Except-” he chuckled. “–Except it is rather comical to think about the hero of Hogwarts and the desire of every boy in the school stomping around and throwing a tantrum because her sad excuse of a boyfriend can’t make her come.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head from his audacity. “Sebastian!” you chided.

“Don’t get cross with me!” Sebastian said, throwing his hands up. “I would never leave you unsatisfied.”

You inhaled sharply through your nostrils. His words seemed to cloud overhead, daring you to take the bait. He sat back smugly, but you could see the uncertainty in his eyes as he waited for your reaction.

You swallowed in preparation. For nearly three years, the two of you had danced around the obvious; the whispers of “Will they or won’t they?” and the ceaseless rumors about all the things the two of you had or hadn’t done; the sexual tension that made you both straighten in your seats every time someone else dared to suggest you were more than friends; the anguishing questions you both never asked in fear of knowing the answers.

The truth was, the root of your sexual tension had very little to do with Andrew Larson. It had damn near everything to do with Sebastian Sallow.

Graduation was approaching and you had no idea what would become of your friendship. Sebastian and Ominis were set to move to London as roommates, and you had plans to do the same with Natsai. But adulthood would be different. You and Sebastian wouldn’t be a mere common room apart. And there’d be new people, new friends, new opportunities. The ache between your thighs was far deeper than the desire to know what it’d be like to be fucked by Sebastian Sallow; it was the desperate longing for a more permanent place in his life.

“Prove it,” you finally said, feigning confidence as you dared to look him in the eye.

Finally, you had managed to catch Sebastian off guard. All of these years of teasing banter and suggestive innuendo, and you finally had him pinned against a wall of astonishment. He hadn’t expected you to give in, especially in a way that managed to challenge him.

He gaped at you, a rare deviation from his typical air of self-assuredness. Your gaze remained fixated on him, cool yet inquisitive, ready to see if he’d put his money where his mouth is.

“Wait,” he finally said. “You… you really want to?”

“Why not? You’ve always been able to help me through every other trial and tribulation. Why not this one? Unless the rumors aren’t true.” You were toeing dangerous territory, teasing him while knowing damn well he’d gladly punish you for it.

“Oh, they’re true.” He couldn’t help himself. He always rose to a challenge, and you knew he’d rise to this one. But his eyes weren’t smug or even confident. They looked concerned. “So just to be sure,” he continued slowly. “You want me to… to fuck you.”

“Yes.” It was then that you realized how your chest had been heaving with every breath, a blend of nerves and lust you weren’t sure you’d overcome if you were denied again.

And to your absolute horror, Sebastian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It knocked the wind from you, causing the room to whirl as you searched your brain for an escape. But then Sebastian looked up at you again, and the sincerity in his eyes kept you rooted to the spot.

“Look,” he said after drawing a shaky breath. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend like I don’t spend every bit of my free time imagining what it’d be like to feel you absolutely and utterly fall apart beneath me. I spend a shameful amount of time thinking about you in ways that would positively make you want to hex me in the same way I’ve thought about hexing Larson. But you… you’re everything to me. I can’t lose you.”

What a day it had been. You entered the Room of Requirement prepared to beg your best friend to absolutely ruin you. Instead, he was confessing his love for you.

You couldn’t help but release a shaky laugh. It wasn’t the romantic declaration you wanted to respond with, but it was the most fitting and accurate reaction to such an idiotic situation.

“You mean to tell me,” you said slowly, your voice still wavering with disbelief, “That I could have been fucking you this entire time?”

It clearly wasn’t the response Sebastian had expected, because his eyes seemed to search you for confirmation, as if he was waiting for you to laugh or reveal the scene to be some kind of twisted prank. But when you maintained your serious gaze, he grinned in disbelief.

“I didn’t realize the feeling was mutual,” he said.

“Merlin, you fucking idiot,” you hissed. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Oh, sure, because it would be that simple! I’d just waltz on up to you in the middle of dinner and tell you I’m in love with you,” Sebastian said incredulously. “Besides, you have a boyfriend anyway!”

“I wouldn’t have that boyfriend if you’d told me! Besides, you seem perfectly pleased to fuck every other girl in the school!”

“Only because I couldn’t have the one I wanted!” The absurdity of it all made you dizzy and Sebastian sat back on the sofa looking dazed. “So what are you going to do now?” he asked.

You didn’t need long to decide. It had clearly been a day for bold declarations and daring acts. Why not keep the trend going? You decided you were going to get what you wanted.

“I’m going to fuck you until I’m satisfied, and then I’m going to go break up with my boyfriend for good.”

Before you could give Sebastian a chance to overthink another damn thing, you were on him, your legs straddling him as you mounted his lap and greedily grasped at his necktie. Your first kiss was a stunning reflection of the two of you – passionate and unrefined, not to mention stubborn as you both refused to be the first to pull away.

Finally, you relented, panting as you paused to gaze at Sebastian. You couldn’t help but snort at how positively elated he looked.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” you laughed.

“Funny, you’re the one who seems so desperate to be fucked,” he replied smoothly. It made you even hornier.

“So be a man of your word then,” you whispered. Your lips crushed against his again and you couldn’t help but rock your hips, the feeling of his erection beneath you stealing the air from your lungs. You shifted so that you could feel his hard length against your clothed entrance and it made you whimper in desperation. The heat was overwhelming.

Sebastian smirked. “You’re absolutely done for, you know that, right?”

“Shut up.” You yanked at his tie for good measure, your fingers working to loosen the knot as your core remained pressed against the bulge in Sebastian’s pants. The way his breaths became ragged indicated he would be just as ruined as you by the time you left that room – if you ever left.

Sebastian’s sweater and shirt followed his tie as you addressed every stupid little button. By the time you reached the bottom, you huffed with annoyance that was short-lived once Sebastian was bare-chested beneath you. You’d seen him shirtless a handful of times, but never close enough to touch, and touch him you did.

Your palms skimmed his chest and torso as you demanded another kiss. You bit down gently on Sebastian’s bottom lip, stirring more arousal from him. Your own shirt didn’t stand a chance.

Buttons popped and sailed around you like confetti before your blouse was discarded on the marble floor. Sebastian’s eyes roamed the new view of flesh above him, but it was clearly not enough. His hands drifted to the clasp of your bra, which snapped apart with precision and joined your shirt on the floor.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Sebastian hissed as he palmed your breasts. He reveled in the way they filled his hands, soft and full. “Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear it.”

“I want you to show me what I’ve been missing. I want you to give me the best fucking of my life.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

His hands roamed beneath the hem of your skirt and your breath hitched as you could feel his warm palms inching up your thighs. A single thumb dared to swipe across your entrance, which had soaked your panties ages ago.

The feeling made Sebastian’s breath hiss. “How did you get so wet?”

“How did you get so dense?”

Your banter was meant to be playful, but Sebastian and all his primal instincts viewed it as a challenge. Though he had every intention of showing you pleasure beyond your darkest dreams, he wasn’t going to give in without some teasing too.

“Calling me dense when you’re clearly dying to have me,” he tutted. “You’ve been awfully bold for someone who hasn’t been fucked for so long.”

His fingers worked their way through the side of your panties and he groaned as they were instantly coated by your wetness before they could even enter you. You whimpered as he dragged two fingers across your folds. “That’s what I thought,” Sebastian teased at your pitiful response to his touch.

He slipped a finger inside of you and you chewed your bottom lip at the sensation. You shifted forward, sending his finger deeper until you were desperate for more pressure.

“More,” you whined. Sebastian obliged. His middle finger joined his index and he used them to gently pump at your core, the base of his hand pressed against your clit. You were so damn sensitive already, you knew you’d unravel within moments.

“Like that?” Sebastian hummed. You nodded, too fixated on your aching cunt to offer a verbal response. Sebastian’s movements stopped. “I said, like that?” You whined in protest. “Fine. Guess you’ll have to do the work yourself.”

Sebastian’s fingers lingered inside you but held still, prompting you to rock against them. You lifted your hips and rocked downward, using his fingers in the way he’d hoped.

He licked his lips at the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers, his pants strained impossibly tight over his arousal. But he waited patiently as you worked yourself over his hand, your walls clenching around his fingers to earn your release.

That tender spot of flesh inside of you pressed repeatedly against Sebastian’s fingertips, the pressure building as the sounds of your slickness exposed your sinful act.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed as could feel the climax nearing, the peak edging to the surface of your walls until they pulsed with pleasure around Sebastian’s fingers. You moaned as you rode it out, grinding downward so that his fingers dug into your sensitive spot. Sebastian grunted as you flooded his hand, the sensation making his cock twitch with desire.

When your orgasm subsided, you slumped on top of Sebastian to catch your breath.

“Fucking hell,” he said as he examined his coated hand. “I’m never going to recover from this.”

The admission sparked renewed energy within you as you realized the two of you were just getting started. If Sebastian’s fingers could fuck you to completion, you were anxious to learn what his cock could do.

You rose begrudgingly to your feet to slip your skirt and ruined panties off, standing naked over Sebastian, whose erection looked painful inside his tented trousers, damp from your release.

“You’re a fucking vision,” he said as he studied your naked form, his arms outstretched as they rested over the back of the sofa.

You smirked and moved for his belt. He lifted his hips so that you could remove his pants, his boxers following suit, and you had to steel yourself at the full sight of him.

He was bigger than Andrew. You wondered if it would cause the uncomfortable pain you’d felt during your first time. You liked to think you’d had enough experience to become used to it, but your body wasn’t accustomed to accommodating anyone quite so large. The challenge of it all made your core throb with more desire.

You dropped to your knees and took Sebastian into your mouth before he could even think to protest. It was better than you’d dreamed of, smooth like velvet and far too big to fit in your entire mouth – not that you wouldn’t try.

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian hissed as his tip met the back of your throat. His hands balled in your hair and his eyes snapped shut. “This has to be heaven.”

“What makes you think you’re getting into heaven?” you asked, pausing to gaze upward at him with a smirk.

“Fine. If this is hell, I reckon I’ll be just fine.”

Your mouth returned to work and the room fell quiet except for the sound of your lips sharply sucking against his shaft. It made him shudder.

A sharp tug of your hair made you gasp as Sebastian pulled you off his cock. You whined in confusion, but he smirked.

“Let’s give that pretty little mouth of yours a break, love,” he said. “You’re going to need it once you start screaming.”

“But-”

Sebastian held your face in his hands, a loving gesture that juxtaposed the filthy acts you were performing. “If you were anyone else, darling, I’d gladly allow you to continue. But if you keep at it, I’m not going to be able to satisfy you for long. And I want as much time with you as possible.”

It was a vulnerable admission, especially from someone as confident and experienced as Sebastian. The notion that you could absolutely ruin him with your mere mouth made you drunk with power.

“Now,” Sebastian continued as he reached for your hand to tug you closer. You rose to your feet and he peered up at you with a dreamy gaze. “What can we do to relieve the neglect your imbecile of a boyfriend has created?”

A hundred different possibilities flashed through your mind as all of your fantasies clashed at once. You’d spent hours daydreaming of the different ways Sebastian would wreck you – positions that defied physics, vile phrases that insulted the English language, sensations that left your brain a pile of mush. You wanted it all, yet in this moment, you were wholly content to simply feel him in any way he’d allow. And given your mutual epiphanies earlier, there’d be plenty of future opportunities for you and Sebastian to exert your sexual tension.

“First,” you said, your voice husky as you straddled him again, lowering your entrance until it hovered just above his erect cock. The heat made his breath hitch. “I’m going to use you until I come all over your cock.” Sebastian nodded obediently. “And then, you’re going to pin me down and fuck me until every painting in this room has heard your name.”

Sebastian swallowed. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Then we’re both going to die happy, love.”

The decisive moment had arrived as you sank around Sebastian’s tip, slow and steady as the sensation of your folds gliding over his shaft made you hold your breath. Sebastian squeezed your hips in anticipation as he watched you descend far too slowly for his liking. His restraint had nearly disintegrated when you suddenly dropped downward the rest of the way in one quick and fluid motion, the tops of his thighs pressed against your ass. The sudden warmth that enveloped him made Sebastian groan.

“Unreal,” he gasped as you held still in his lap, willing your cunt to accommodate him more. You were gritting your teeth the entire time you stretched around him, exploring his size with determination.

“Fuck, Sebastian,” you whimpered. “You’re big.”

“Oh?” Sebastian chewed on his bottom lip as he smirked at you, though the rise and fall of his chest exposed his fragility. “And here I thought I’d have to measure up to that boyfriend of yours. Guess I easily fill his shoes.”

“And then some,” you moaned. You hadn’t even moved, but the mere feeling of Sebastian filling you entirely was enough to make your cunt threaten to contract. You dared to shift in his lap, leaning in closer to him. He sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“I can see why you were wound so tight now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Good thing I have you to help me unwind then.” You lifted your hips until your cunt glided upward, hovering around Sebastian’s tip until you dipped downward again. The look on Sebastian’s face was almost as satisfying as the pressure that swelled inside of you.

His hands roamed to your breasts, cupping one in each hand as a thumb gently stroked each nipple. “I want to play with these while you come undone,” he said.

You picked up your pace, using the head of Sebastian’s cock to ignite friction against the sensitive spot deep inside of you. Soon, the sounds of your ass smacking against Sebastian’s thighs coursed through the room as you rose and slammed yourself downward repeatedly.

Sebastian was fighting sensory overload; the erotic sounds of your skin connecting, the sight of your breasts bouncing with every movement, the salty taste of your sweaty skin when he kissed your neck. It was too much, yet not nearly enough.

“M’close,” you moaned as you threw your head back, your eyes squeezed shut as you willed your body to comply. Sebastian’s eyes drifted downward to the place where you were connected. If his cock disappearing into your cunt was the last thing he saw before he died, he’d go willingly.

His thumb pressed against your clit, forcing your eyes to snap open in surprise. “Oh fuck,” you wailed. Your bottom lip was raw and red from the way you were chewing on it, desperate to release the tension coiled inside of you. A few more swipes of Sebastian’s thumb triggered it, your shriek echoing across the stone walls as you rocked forward, holding your hips downward in place as your walls clenched and shuddered around Sebastian’s cock.

Your breaths became short, pitchy gasps as you recovered, your body thoroughly exhausted as you clutched Sebastian’s shoulders for support. He sat with his head tilted backward against the back of the sofa, his eyes clamped shut from bracing himself through your orgasm. His lap now held a puddle of your release and he didn’t bother to hide his arousal from the vulgarity of it all.

Once you caught your breath enough to speak, you uttered a faint laugh. “I really hope this isn’t a dream I’m going to wake up from,” you said.

“I don’t know,” Sebastian mused, his hands rubbing gentle circles over the tops of your thighs as he gazed at you with fondness. “Personally, I’d stay and live in this dream forever if I could.”

He placed a featherlight kiss on your eyelashes and for a moment, you nearly forgot that you were currently wrapped around his twitching cock. But as Sebastian shifted uncomfortably beneath you, the pressure returned to your core.

“Now,” he said, his hands placed flat against the small of your back. “Let’s make sure you never think about that useless boyfriend ever again.”

He rose, lifting you from the sofa as you wrapped your legs around him for support. He couldn’t help but kiss you, his way of making it clear he was strong enough to hold you in such a position for future engagements. Once he placed you gently on your back, he crawled between your legs, resting back on his heels as he studied your form.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said as he gripped his own cock.

“Show me.”

He was on top of you instantly, one hand supporting his weight while the other guided his cock back to your entrance. He sank inside you again and groaned at the return of your warmth. No one else would ever compare to it and Sebastian was sure he wouldn’t want them anyway. Not when he now knew how it felt to have you entirely.

“One more time for me, love,” he said with a thrust of his hips. “You look positively stunning when you come.” You tightened your legs around him to signal your insatiable hunger.

“Harder,” you ordered. Sebastian would have been a fool to defy you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make you earn it.

His hand snapped to your wrists, pinning them above your head as he bucked his hips for emphasis. The motion rippled through your body, forcing a moan from your throat. “Say please.”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“With feeling.”

“Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” He pulled his cock out so that only the tip remained against your cunt, swiping it over your clit as he licked his lips at the moisture that clung to it. “So fucking wet for me, too.”

Before you could protest, he dipped his head between your legs to drag his tongue over your raw entrance. It plunged inside your folds and trailed to your clit, where Sebastian’s mouth gently sucked until you kicked your feet from the overwhelming sensitivity.

He slowly crawled back to meet your face, planting a swift kiss on your lips.

“I’m going to love you forever, you know that?”

“I do now,” you breathed. “And the feeling’s mutual. Now shut the fuck up.”

Sebastian pushed his cock back inside you with less restraint this time. It drove deep within your walls in repeated jabs, the sound of your bodies clapping together with each thrust.

The moans that fell from your lips sounded more like a howl as you clenched yourself around Sebastian’s cock in a frantic attempt to draw one more orgasm from it. He held a palm against your chest, pressing you downward into the sofa cushions as he rocked hard against you.

Andrew had never fucked you this hard and you knew you’d never recover from it. There was no returning from a frenzied fucking like this, especially when the only person you’d ever loved was responsible for it.

You cried Sebastian’s name as his cock pounded your cunt, fervidly coaxing your walls to release. You could feel them begin to spasm as they gripped Sebastian’s hard shaft until they finally convulsed, the pleasure eliciting a guttural cry from you. Your entire body responded this time, your back arching and legs quaking as the orgasm rippled through you until you were left squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to prolong its final flutters.

You were absolutely fucked out beyond ruin, and Sebastian’s reward surfaced quickly. The sight of you so drained, so satiated by your undoing, confirmed that he was entirely lost in you. He was yours now and he’d be damned if Andrew Larson or any other brainless oaf tried to claim you ever again.

“Fucking hell,” he choked as he continued to rail his cock inside your tired cunt. “Ready to be mine?”

You nodded, still aroused by the anticipation of Sebastian finishing inside of you. Another moan escaped your lips and Sebastian grunted, forcing his cock hard into you as he spurted his release. It painted your insides with warmth, signaling the end of your romp, Sebastian’s labored breaths marking the final moments of his climax.

Your eyelids were heavy as you became hyperaware of just how worn out your body was, but all of the tension you’d carried for the past few weeks was gone. You were relaxed now. Sebastian had certainly delivered on his promise.

When you let your eyes drift open again, you realized he was still above you, gazing at you with renewed affection.

“All right?” he asked. You offered him the prettiest smile you could manage.

“What do you think?”

“I think you ought to go break up with that boyfriend of yours.”

“Sebastian, you’re literally still inside me. Do you really think I’m concerned with anyone else right now?”

“Oh. Too right, you are.” He was lingering, and you weren’t sure if it was because he was tired or because he wanted to prolong the moment. Whatever the reason, you were in no rush to part from him. He seemed to be studying you, and you recognized the familiar tells that he was deep in thought, like his furrowed eyebrows and slight pout.

“Anything you care to share with the class?” you murmured.

“It’s just that… I mean, you and I-” Sebastian struggled for the right words. “This wasn’t a one-time thing, right?”

“I fucking hope not.”

“Good. Because you’ve absolutely ruined me for life.”

Finally, he drew backward and straightened, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. Your eyes fell to your crumpled shirt on the floor and you heaved a sigh. The buttons were gone, the threads that held them shredded and torn beyond Reparo.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” you whined as you held the shirt up to show Sebastian the results of his impatience. He looked far too smug for your liking.

“Guess you’ll just have to wear mine,” he said with a shrug. He bent down to pick up his sweater and tossed it to you. “Too hot for me to be wearing this anyway.” You slipped it over your head, its large sleeves swallowing your arms, the initials “S.S.” embroidered in green over your left breast. It smelled like him – warm and woodsy. Though it was far too big for you, you decided you’d never give it back.

“I look ridiculous,” you huffed. Sebastian, however, beamed at you with pride.

“You look fucking sinful,” he declared, his grin revealing his glee.

Once you were both clothed, albeit visibly disheveled, you slipped from the Room of Requirement and descended the staircase.

“Hungry?” you asked Sebastian as you reached the lower level of the Astronomy Wing. He nodded but you frowned as he veered in the direction opposite the Great Hall. “Where are you going?” you asked as you clung to his arm.

Sebastian glanced sideways at you and smirked, taking in the sight of you in his oversized sweater, his initials marking his new territory.

“I believe we need to make a stop in the library first.”

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

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megwritesriddles · 4 months ago

Text

Your Champion ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 16 - Shower sex. Reader waits for Draco in the changing rooms during his match, ready to celebrate with him when he wins, and celebrate they do, in their usual fashion.

Tags: Shower sex, P in V, Handjob, Semi-public sex, Established relationship/Friends-with-benefits, Miscommunication, Cocky!Draco, QuidditchPlayer!Draco, Not canon compliant, Cliffhanger (minor).

Word count: 2.6k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Surprise!! Two fics in one day!! This is short (ish) and sweet!! Hope you like it mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The game was louder than usual. The stands were more lively, the buzz of the players as they flew by amplified somehow by the stakes of the game. Even in the player's tent, it was nearly deafening. You sat on the bench under Draco's locker, reading your book, waiting. You were interested to know how the game was going, but Draco had asked you to stay in the tent and wait for him, so you did.

You and Draco were… undefined, even though everybody knew there was something going on. As you’d walked into the tent with him earlier today, not even for the first time, other members of the team had wanted to make comments, but Draco had told them in no uncertain terms to keep it to themselves. He wasn’t shy of you in the slightest. Before walking out onto the pitch, he’d given you a kiss and a playful smack on the ass. He was never shy to let people see the two of you were involved, but the way you were involved was never discussed between you. You had decided a while ago to just interpret it as friends with benefits to prevent yourself from being let down. Draco had asked you to wait for him in the tent when you last saw him, telling you he’d want to ‘celebrate’ when Slytherin won.

“And if you don’t win?” you’d asked softly, his arms tightly around your waist. He scoffed at you.

“Oh, we’ll win,” he grinned, placing a kiss on your lips. “And if somehow not, then I’ll need you to comfort me,” he smiled slightly softer. It’s these little glimpses of vulnerability that keep you running back to him. You live for them, every drop of his true self he gives you just keeps you addicted. Which is why you sit for potentially hours alone in a tent that smells lingeringly sweaty for him to finish his game. You’re lucky your book is interesting.

It’s the final match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Stakes are high, even higher for Draco as it’s his last game at Hogwarts and, more importantly, his last game against Harry Potter. He has something to prove, and for his sake, you really hope he proves it. You don’t care much about your house, but you care about him. Slytherin hasn’t won the cup, even if they win this game, but for Draco, this match is bigger than that. He has to prove himself over Potter, it’s an odd compulsion he’s always had. He insisted you had to be in the changing rooms as you’re his good luck charm, which you had to admit, while cheesy, had really enticed you.

There’s a massive eruption of cheers, you try your best to guess which house they’re coming from, but you’re unsure. From your position near the ground, you can’t hear the commentary over the roar of the crowd so you’re unable to figure out what’s happened. You slowly close your book on the bench beside you and wait. There’s a chant forming, still obscured to your ears by clumsy timing, but slowly and surely it morphs into the word ‘Slytherin’. They’ve won. You smiled to yourself, cheering on your own in here feels silly. You slump slightly against the lockers, having won means the team will be out there celebrating for the while, talking to the school newspaper, being forced, with little luck presumably, to shake hands with the Gryffindors. You resign yourself to wait, but quite quickly, the fabric of the tent parts and Draco bursts in. He looks smug and he’s grinning wide, so you grin back. He comes over and picks you up with ease, clearly hopped up on adrenaline. You wrap your arms around his neck, giggling at his excitement.

“We won, love,” he tells you, even though this much is obvious. He presses a hard kiss to your lips before withdrawing again. “Fuck, you somehow look even more hot than when I just saw you,” he chuckles.

“That’s all the dopamine speaking,” you laugh softly, caressing his neck, his chest currently out of reach due to his quidditch uniform. “Aren’t you supposed to still be out there?” you question.

“Yeah, but I needed you, what are they gonna do? Kick me off the team? That was my final game,” he dismisses, holding you closer and kissing your jaw. You giggle a little.

“I suppose not,”

“Come on, I need a shower, love,” he carries you over into the shower room, gently setting you down by the bench. He makes quick work of his quidditch gear, but it still takes a while. Once he’s left in his undershirt and boxers, he dives for you. He kisses all over your neck, his hands sliding under your t-shirt and onto your back, caressing gently. “My good luck charm,” he hums against your neck. “You did me well today, I really showed Potter,” he hisses the last word and you almost laugh at him, but frankly you’re too used to this. He helps you to strip down, his hands absolutely everywhere on you. You take turns until you’re both stark naked. He is already half hard with anticipation, grinning lazily at you. You hear some of the other team members entering the tent and he guides you to one of the shower stalls so that you’re out of view. “Remember to be quiet for me, okay?” he grins cheekily. He turns on the shower and the stream of water crashes over you. It’s initially cold and you jump into his arms instinctively for warmth. He chuckles lowly and holds you while the water warms, seeming unphased by the icy shower falling over him. His wind-tousled hair becomes saturated with water, slicking down onto his forehead. He kisses your neck at a leisurely pace, rubbing his hands over you to soothe away the goosebumps until they’re finally gone.

“Do you wanna wash first?” you enquire in his ear, otherwise you would have needed to shout over the pounding of the water in the enclosed space. He nods in response, stepping back and retrieving some soap from the magical dispenser. You watch him as he scrubs himself down, his lean body highlighted by a long tough quidditch season. He keeps his eyes on you too, enjoying the sight of your wet glistening body. He’s seen it many times before, but he never seems to tire of ogling. It’s slightly flattering, but it also makes you want to roll your eyes. He grins, sensing your annoyance.

“What? You’re stunning, love,” he coos, leaning in to press his lips to your ear. “Making me hard just by standing there, no other girl can say that,” he nips your earlobe, leaning back to wash the last of the soap off of himself. He’s right, he’s much harder than he was when you entered the shower, his body knowing what’s coming, or rather, who is coming. He’s back on you in mere moments once he’s sure he’s free of soap. One arm settles around your waist, holding you close, the other takes your wrist and guides your hand to his erection. “You wanna spoil the victor, don’t you?” he teases against your ear. “I think I deserve it, and you’re always so good at it,” you roll your eyes again at his cocky behaviour, leaning up to kiss him as your hand wraps around his length. He hums in pleasure. His hand remains at your waist, slowly sliding down. You know where it’s headed, but don’t object. You pump his length gently in your hand, keeping a slow pace to start, aware that you can’t get him too loud where you are. His free hand cups your jaw as he kisses you, open-mouthed and desperate.

“You’re excited today,” you mumble teasingly against his lips. His hand squeezes the flesh of your rear. It’s a miracle he hears you.

“Been thinking about you the whole match, surprised I was able to win when all I was thinking about was you,” he admits, softly sucking on your bottom lip. You slightly tighten your grip on his cock and he groans quietly. Your motions speed up ever so slightly, you add a little twisting motion as you go, one you know he loves. He holds you tight against his lips, using the kiss to muffle the needy noises escaping his lips. You thumb his tip gently and he bucks into your hand, another groan escaping him.

“I thought it was me that was supposed to be quiet,” you taunt, still working your hand in the way he loves. He grunts.

“Brat,” he grins. “I’ll have you struggling in a second,” he promises between choked sounds. He reaches down, gently removing your hand from his cock, which is now weeping pre-cum. You know what he’s about to do, but somehow it shocks you anyway. He grabs your waist and spins you around, pressing you against the cool tile wall of the shower cubicle. His hands brace on either side of your head, his body pressing into your back. “Be quiet for me, won’t you, love?” he teases, kissing your cheek lingeringly before reaching down to align himself with you. You bite your lip, moaning softly as he runs his tip up and down your folds. You can tell without looking that he’s smiling his arrogant little smile, but it hardly matters to you when he’s rutting so deliciously against your clit. “While everyone’s distracted by the celebrations, I’ll take you to my room and please you nice and proper, yeah? A thank you for being my lucky charm. Eat you out until you cry? Do you like the sound of that, love?” he taunts. He knows you like the sound of it, you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. You whimper your soft agreement. “And then tomorrow, you can spend the day pleasing me, your champion, can’t you?” he prompts, grinding against you deliciously. “Can’t you?”

“Yes,” you exhale shakily.

“I can have you all to myself tomorrow, all day, a perfect Sunday," he muses, kissing the crook of your neck. You whine, pressing back against him needily, the thoughts of what the two of you might get up to exhilarating. It’s not often you spent the whole day together, and you were surprised it was what he wanted, rather than basking in his victory with the team, but you were happy to comply.

He finally begins to sink into you and it’s sweet relief. You bite your lip hard to keep quiet, wanting to moan out a string of colourful expletives to demonstrate how amazing this feels. He pants harshly against your ear, bottoming out and staying still for a little while. In this brief pause, you hear distant voices, a reminder that, though enclosed from view in these four walls, you are not completely alone. He braces against you and starts to pump his hips. You don’t need much warm-up since you’re quite used to his cock by now from months of taking it, but you’re still squeezing him the perfect amount and he makes sure to let you know through the soft growls leaving his lips. He rocks faster against you and it’s a battle to remain quiet, but you have no choice, even if you’re sure people have noticed your discarded clothes on the bench and put two and two together. His hand snakes down, rubbing gentle circles on your clit, you’re grateful for it, but you always wonder if it’s really a selfish action, as it makes you clench around him and his breath shudders with each clench. With him, it’s probably a bit of both, a favour for you, perfectly calculated so it benefits him too. You spread your legs a little more so he has better access to caress you. For the most part, the patter of the shower water against your skin and the shower floor drowns out the slap of skin against skin, but you hear it, travelling up through your body. If Draco hears it too, he doesn’t let it slow him down even slightly. He’s relentless in chasing his release, pressing firm kisses to your neck and shoulders, each a promise of a more relaxed experience later, a promise to lavish you in ecstasy, now and later. He’s mumbling something, but you can’t hear it, it’s not frantic enough to be an announcement of his orgasm, so you let yourself ignore him. The coil in your belly tightens and tightens until it’s almost painful, your whole body going tense. He realises it and speeds his fingers up on you, fucking into you faster.

“That’s it,” you hear him coaxing over the various noises clouding your senses. “That’s it, love, you’re right there,” he whispers. The coil in your belly snaps in an instant, forcing you to bite down on your lip hard. You close your eyes in ecstasy, feeling your body pulsing pleasurably, tingling all over. Your legs shake and Draco holds you up as he rams into you a few more times before pulling out to spill his seed all over your lower back. You feel the warm liquid land on your back only for a moment before he shifts you under the spray of water to wash it away.

You gasp for breath in his arms and he does the same behind you, both overwhelmed by your first time together in a little while. Draco had recently confessed that he no longer touches himself as he has you, but with last-minute practice, the two of you have been apart for a while. It’s oddly flattering to realise from the intensity of his release, that he’s still using only you as an outlet. He wipes your back gently, making sure you’re free of his cum before loosening his grip on you carefully. He’s worried you’ll collapse, it happened once, and he’s been overly careful since. You stand shakily on your own two feet. He guides you around so you’re facing him and then wraps his arms around your waist.

“I reckon I’m the champion at that too,” he grins smugly. You roll your eyes, leaning into his arms as he pecks your cheek and pats your ass affectionately as if to say ‘good job’.

“Merlin, your ego has been so inflated by that match,” you chuckle.

“And you want to stroke it,” he mutters the double entendre cheekily. Another glimpse at his genuine self, less vulnerable this time, but still true and seldom seen. You gently smack his chest and laugh at him and he laughs back. He turns off the shower and you listen. It’s mostly silent outside, you wonder idly how long you’ve been there together, and how obvious it might have been to the others what was going on. Draco seems unbothered, cracking the door to the cubicle and checking the coast is clear before ushering you out. He brings you a towel from his locker, which has been housing two towels since you began whatever this was. Once you’re wrapped in it, he smiles at you. “My beautiful good luck charm,” he murmurs, pushing your wet hair from your neck to press a few kisses there.

“Oh shut up,” you giggle, slightly flustered. It was moments like these that really made you want to ask him what you were. He was always so sweet and tender after sex, it felt like something more than it probably did.

“No really,” he insists, pulling you closer again. “I wish we could just apparate to my room, but I suppose I don’t mind showing you off in the common room first, showing everyone those cute little marks on your neck, especially Potter! Hah! Imagine his face, I won the match and fucked you all within the hour, he’ll be green with envy,” he traces the few soft pink spots on your neck, chuckling to himself.

“People might think we’re dating,” you dismiss a little, though you find his comments amusing. He tilts his head at you.

“Aren’t we?”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

xoxoxo

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iamgonnagetyouback · 4 months ago

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can you please please please write more for mattheo riddle x potter!reader. maybe the family going to one of harry’s games, accompanied by reader and mattheo? (maybe featuring the marauders?) i’d love to read anything, it doesn’t even have to be this!! hope you have a great night :)

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Mattheo Riddle x potter!Reader

It was one of those rare, crisp days at Hogwarts where the skies were clear, and the breeze was just right. The perfect day for Quidditch—or at least, that’s what your brother Harry would say if he weren’t busy being a massive diva about the whole thing.

The stands were packed with students from every House, cheering, waving banners, and clapping in anticipation of the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match. And to make the occasion even more dramatic than usual, your parents, James and Lily, had shown up, along with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, all seated proudly in the stands, ready to cheer Harry on.

Unfortunately for Harry, you had brought along a certain Slytherin boyfriend of yours—Mattheo Riddle.

“Merlin’s beard,” Harry groaned under his breath, glancing up at the stands where Mattheo had already worked his charm on the crowd. “Why did you bring him?”

You shrugged, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, he wanted to support you.”

Harry snorted. “Support? Please, he’s just here to make me miserable.”

You glanced at Mattheo, who had somehow managed to get half the Hufflepuff supporters waving at him and even Remus giving him an approving nod. “He’s being perfectly nice. Maybe you’re the one being dramatic.”

Harry threw you a look that said he was this close to throwing himself off his broom. “Dramatic? I’m not dramatic. He’s just—ugh, why is he even waving at people?”

Sure enough, Mattheo was leaning casually against the railing of the Gryffindor stands, flashing a charming smile at anyone who passed by. Every few minutes, he waved, winked, or nodded at a student, causing a flurry of giggles and whispers.

“He’s not supposed to be the center of attention!” Harry muttered furiously, his grip tightening on his broom. “This is my game!”

You patted his shoulder in mock sympathy. “Don’t worry, Harry. Everyone still knows you’re the main attraction.”

“Barely,” he huffed.

Down in the stands, Sirius barked out a laugh, clapping Mattheo on the back. “You’ve got style, kid,” he said, clearly approving of Mattheo’s ability to woo an entire Quidditch crowd without even trying.

“Thanks, Sirius,” Mattheo replied, throwing an arm around you as you sat next to him. “Just here to support my favorite team, after all.”

Harry, overhearing from the pitch, yelled, “Gryffindor is not your favorite team, Riddle!”

Mattheo only grinned and gave him a two-fingered salute, causing Harry to grumble and fly off toward his team.

Remus leaned over to James and muttered, “He’s got quite the influence, doesn’t he?”

James laughed. “He’s a slippery one, that’s for sure. But if he’s got Lily’s approval, who am I to argue?”

Lily, who had been watching Mattheo’s interaction with you, gave a knowing smile. “I think he’s good for her. Keeps things interesting.”

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. “If Harry doesn’t throw him off a broom first.”

The whistle blew, and the game began. But the match wasn’t the only source of entertainment that day.

Every time Harry swooped in for a save, Mattheo would cheer—loudly. “Go on, Potter!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. “That’s my future brother-in-law!”

Harry nearly lost control of his broom at that, swerving dangerously to avoid a Bludger. “Future brother-in-law?” he shouted, his voice shrill. “Absolutely not!”

The Hufflepuff Seeker zipped past him while Harry was distracted, and you couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands in secondhand embarrassment.

Sirius howled with laughter. “He’s really got Harry rattled!”

“Not to mention the Hufflepuffs,” Peter added with a chuckle. “Look at them. They’re more focused on Mattheo than their own game.”

It was true. Several Hufflepuff players kept sneaking glances at Mattheo, who was now waving at them enthusiastically, giving them a thumbs-up and shouting words of encouragement like he was their biggest fan.

“RIDDLE!” Harry’s voice echoed across the pitch, and he shot a death glare at Mattheo, who was absolutely thriving in the attention.

Mattheo leaned back in his seat, hands behind his head, and winked up at the sky as though Harry’s rage fueled him. “Doing great, Potter!” he yelled, entirely too pleased with himself.

When the match finally ended, Gryffindor won by a hair’s breadth, mostly thanks to Harry’s furious speed after seeing Mattheo charm his way through half the match. The second his feet hit the ground, Harry stormed over to you and Mattheo, his broom still in hand.

“You,” Harry said, pointing an accusatory finger at Mattheo. “You are the most distracting person in the world.”

Mattheo, unfazed, smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s not!” Harry spluttered, his voice rising to that familiar, high-pitched squeak of frustration. “You—you made the Hufflepuffs fall for your stupid charm! And you kept shouting things about being my brother-in-law!”

Mattheo shrugged, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Just manifesting the future, Potter. You know how it is.”

“No, I do not know how it is!” Harry snapped. “And stop manifesting things!”

You tried to hold back a laugh, patting Harry on the arm. “Come on, Harry, he was just cheering you on.”

“Cheering me on?” Harry repeated, looking at you incredulously. “He’s a Slytherin! He’s supposed to be evil and plotting things, not—this!” He gestured wildly at Mattheo, who was now sharing a victory fist-bump with Sirius.

“Well, mate,” James said, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he walked over, “he’s certainly got style. Reminds me of me back in the day.”

Harry looked at his father, horrified. “Dad, don’t encourage him!”

James just laughed, ruffling Harry’s already wild hair. “Relax, kid. He’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” Harry echoed, looking around at his family, all of whom seemed perfectly content with Mattheo tagging along. “Am I the only one who sees what’s happening here?”

Lily smiled warmly. “Harry, he’s good for her. You’ll see.”

Harry groaned, defeated, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t understand this family.”

Mattheo grinned, pulling you closer as your parents walked ahead. “You’re just mad because I stole your spotlight today.”

Harry glared. “No, I’m mad because you exist.”

Mattheo laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made you roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Get used to it, Potter. I’m not going anywhere.”

With a final groan, Harry shook his head and trudged off to join the rest of the family, muttering to himself about how this had to be some kind of cosmic joke. You couldn’t help but laugh as Mattheo, walked beside you, his charm having worked its magic on everyone except your very, very grumpy brother.

“Harry’ll warm up to me eventually,” Mattheo said confidently, as if it were inevitable.

You smiled up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Or he’ll keep trying to hex you every chance he gets.”

“Ah, it’s all part of the fun,” Mattheo said with a wink. “Besides, I’ve got the rest of the Potters on my side. What’s one grumpy Chosen One?”

Harry, hearing that from a few feet away, let out another dramatic groan. “Merlin, why me?”

Somehow, you knew life was only going to get more interesting from here.

thank you so much for requesting, love!!

#mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #potter family #potters #harry potter #potter!reader #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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hello! I spent a whole day reading your marauder fics and I am obsessed with them and your writing. I was wondering (if you’re still taking requests) if you could write one with poly!marauders with a slytherin!reader where she acts cold and tough with everyone else but turns soft for the boys and they tease her about it but only because they LOVE it.

hope that’s enough! ❤️

Thank you lovely!!

cw: takes place in the infirmary, our poor lovely Jamie is hurt </3

poly!marauders x slytherin!reader ♡ 931 words

“I’m fine.” You stalk down the hallway, batting away the hands of your friends like mosquitos. “I’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt. Sod off.”

The door to the infirmary opens, a familiar head of black hair peeking out. He says your name.

Something in you slackens reflexively. “I’ll meet up with you later,” you tell your pursuers, darting inside.

You find yourself pressed against Sirius’ chest, his hand covering the back of your head protectively. You don’t try to free yourself from the embrace, but you do angle your head on his shoulder, trying to see the bed behind him.

“Is James okay?”

“He is,” comes James’ overly upbeat voice, and you finally get a view of him. He’s sitting upright in bed, his right arm in a sling, looking a bit bedraggled but not much worse for wear. You were terrified he’d be all bloody and broken. Remus sits next to him. His brow is all sewn together, worry flying off him in every direction, and you know he’d be right there with Sirius if his hand weren’t so thoroughly attached to James’ knee. You don’t blame him; you’d only been hit, whereas James had been hit and then fallen thirty feet.

You’d been watching the Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch match from the stands when a wayward bludger had flown toward you, catching you in the shoulder and knocking you clean over. You’d been too busy getting your bearings to see what happened next, but reportedly a Slytherin beater (who you will be having some heated words with in the common room later) took advantage of James’ distraction to send another bludger his way. He came completely off his broom, and though Sirius had been quick with a spell to slow his descent, you can’t imagine the impact with the pitch was pleasant.

“Are you okay?” Remus turns your question back around on you.

You nod your head into Sirius’ shoulder, giving him a fierce squeeze around the middle before wriggling out of his grasp.

“You didn’t hit your head?” you ask James, stealing a chair from another bed and sitting beside him. You burrow your fingers into his curls to feel for yourself.

“Nope,” he says, catching your wrist with his uninjured hand and kissing the inside. “I’m good, sweetheart. Just dislocated my shoulder s’all.”

“S’all?” Your voice is incredulous. You feel your face scrunch woefully as you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

His eyebrows fly up. “I don’t see what you’d be apologizing for.”

You grimace, your good shoulder coming up sheepishly. “I distracted you…”

“You didn’t ask to take a crack from a bludger,” Remus says, quiet but stern. His eyes dip to your shoulder, where the cursed thing had struck. “Let’s see it.”

You sigh and pull down the sleeve of your jumper. You hadn’t been expecting it to bruise yet, but the red mark is already starting to darken around the edges. James hisses through his teeth as Sirius rounds you, crouching beside your chair to get a better look.

“Shit,” he says, frowning as he touches the mark gingerly with the tip of his thumb, “are you sure you haven’t knocked your shoulder out too?”

“I don’t think so,” you say, somewhat quietly. Being at the center of your boyfriends’ combined concern is a disaster for your nerves; it makes you as timid as a first year.

James pouts at you, taking the hand closest to him and pressing a wet smooch to your palm.

“I heard you sniping at your friends in the hallway,” Sirius says. “You can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, doll.”

You look at him through your lashes, sheepish. “It does,” you admit.

He and James coo, and you roll your eyes, turning away from them both.

Remus’ eyebrows pull up in the middle, his gaze gentle on yours. It softens you considerably. “Think you ought to have it looked at?” he asks.

“Yeah,” James says brightly, “we could match.”

Remus’ frown deepens at the reminder, his hand rubbing sympathetically at James’ knee.

“Thanks, but I’m okay.” You give James a weary smile, but his eyes narrow behind his glasses.

“You want something,” he says.

You blink. “No, I don’t.”

He studies you a second longer, then nods. “Yeah you do,” he decides. “Out with it.”

You blow out a breath, rolling your eyes, but he waits. You can’t quite look at any of them as you say, “I just sort of want a hug.”

“Aww,” Sirius croons, all but pushing himself into you as he engulfs you in his arms. “The ice queen melts at last, huh?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” you mumble wryly, and James laughs, giving your fingers a loving squeeze. “Anyway, I’m not the one who wound up in the infirmary.”

“Only because Jamie’s smart enough to go.” Remus gives you a meaningful look, but there’s enough softness in it to let you know he’s not really cross with you. Still, you muffle your apology into Sirius’ shoulder.

He holds you tighter. Digs his fingertips greedily into the material of your jumper.

“Don’t hurt her shoulder,” James says fretfully.

“I’m not,” Sirius replies, but he loosens his grip a bit. “I’m not, right?” You hum your agreement, and he’s pressing in on you again, biceps flexing. “You’re our lovebug,” he tells you, teasing undercut by an uncharacteristic firmness. “You know you don’t have to be tough around us, yeah?”

You grasp the tops of his shoulders in response, an affection so huge it pains you rising in your throat. “Yeah,” you say.

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nodirectionhome-ao3 · 3 months ago

Text

Victorious

Written for Jilytoberfest 31 Prompts Day 30: "Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me."

——

She can hardly think over the roaring of the crowd. The buzz of it seems to vibrate in her very skull, pounding with a force that matches the thrum of her heart in her ribcage. All around her, the crowd of scarlet watches the Seekers dive towards the Snitch–Elton Ackerley versus Regulus Black, a battle that no longer matters.

“What is Black doing?” cries a voice from beside Lily. Mary’s voice, positively baffled. Bless her. “Slytherin’s down by four hundred, for Merlin’s sake. Doesn’t that idiot know his team needs to score more before he ends the match?”

“Probably not,” snorts Sirius from behind them. “That fucking idiot can’t count to save his life.”

“Bet he knows there’s no hope, with the way Potter’s been playing,” counters Bridget, smugly. “Reckon he’s just trying to put an end to Slytherin’s humiliation, at this point.”

Lily feels a smile warm her cheeks. It’s true, and they all know it. Even if Black does manage to nab the Snitch for Slytherin, the one-hundred-and-fifty points wouldn’t even put a dent in Gryffindor’s lead. There’s only really one player who can be blamed for that lead—a certain dark-haired wonder with windswept hair and jaw-dropping speed and perfect bloody dexterous hands and—

“Another goal for Gryffindor!” booms the announcer, his voice rattling through Lily’s head. “That’s right, Potter! You show those scaly serpent twats—sorry, Professor McGonagall, I mean—another excellent play by Gryffindor’s captain! He’s really on a roll today, isn’t he?”

On a roll, indeed. Lily is screaming before she knows it, her voice growing hoarse with each ‘go, James!’ that rips itself from her throat. She’s spent so many years scoffing at Quidditch, denying herself this joy. And for what—for what?

Merlin.

It’s freeing to just bloody enjoy it. To lose herself in it. To jump with that crowd of scarlet around her. To laugh with each jeer that Sirius sends his brother’s way. To scream. To holler. To sing. To watch James dip and glide and roll. To feel her cheeks grow as red as his. To let her mind go fuzzy at that heart-stopping smile of his, that fierce determination on his face whenever he closes his hands around the Quaffle, the sweat that dampens his hair, the way his arm looks when he lifts it for a throw—

Fucking hell.

“Ackerley and Black are neck and neck now! The Snitch is within reach, it’s anyone’s catch now—come on Ackerley—sorry, Professor—”

A collective shout ripples through the crowd—a chorus of ‘come on Ackerley!’ that Lily doesn’t join. Her eyes stay fixed on the Chaser who sails above, putting his body between the Slytherin Beaters and his teammate. Daring them to try anything. Daring them to send a Bludger his way. And he’d bloody do it too, Lily knows without question. James Potter, in all his stupid, self-sacrificing recklessness, would take a Bludger to the head to spare his team’s Seeker without a lick of regret. The nerve of him. The stupid, reckless, admirable, noble, beautiful—

“Ackerley’s got it! He’s got the Snitch! And that’s it! Gryffindor wins five-hundred-and-sixty to ten!”

The crowd breaks into a whole new kind of roar. Lily is right there with them, throwing her arms around Mary and Bridget in turn. Jumping. Screaming. Kicking her feet when Sirius hoists her up and spins her around, hollering in her ear.

James is a blur as he sails down to Ackerley, pulling the scrawny kid halfway off his broom in a jubilant hug. When they break apart, he’s hoisting Ackerley’s arm into the air in triumph, clapping him on the back and grinning widely enough to melt Lily’s heart into a puddle right bloody there.

The crowd is chanting. “Ackerley! Ackerley! Ackerley!” James, maddeningly content to let the Seeker take the credit for a victory that is really all his, waves his arms in an upward motion at the crowd—signaling them to shout louder, louder, louder.

The crowd in the stands begins to rush downwards—a sea of scarlet converging on the grass below to mob the team where some of them are beginning to land. It’s a big fucking deal, this victory—the first time Gryffindor has beaten Slytherin in ten years. Never mind that the leaves on the trees are just beginning to change and the Quidditch Final is still months away. Never mind that this is the first match of the season. This victory is a big fucking deal and Gryffindor will treat is as such. Lily would be right there with them, if she could bring herself to move a muscle.

She stays rooted in the spot, her eyes locked on where James is now hovering mid-air, seemingly oblivious now to how his teammates are peeling away around him—swooping down to join the celebrations on the pitch below. He doesn’t seem to notice the trophy that Sirius has conjured (depicting a lion eating a snake, of course), or the chanting that’s somehow changed from ‘Ackerley! Ackerley! Ackerley!’ to ‘Potter! Potter! Potter!’ He’s looking directly at Lily instead—grinning at her— and she’s looking at him, giggling.

“Potter! Potter! Potter!”

James begins to move, but not in the direction anyone is expecting. His eyes never leaving Lily’s, he draws closer, closer, closer. Until he’s dismounting right there in the stands, tossing his broom down without a second glance and clambering over a bench.

“James!” Lily shouts, scrambling over the rows before her to meet him halfway. “James, you did it! You were amazing! You—”

He stops her words with a kiss—warm and desperate and bloody electric. The roar of the crowd grows impossibly louder, and Lily’s mind is wiped blank—blissfully, beautifully blank. Her fingers dig into his Quidditch robes, her heart exploding in her chest, and all those silly reasons they’d had for keeping their relationship secret are worlds away, dissolved into nothingness with the feel of his lips on hers.

She feels him grin against her, feels the tickle of his voice when he whispers ‘Evans,’ before his lips are on hers again and his sturdy arms are sliding around her and the world is going topsy turvy because he’s fucking dipping her—right there in front of the whole bloody school.

The crowd is so loud now she can feel it in her veins. But all that matters is James—right here, right now, tangled up with Lily in this moment she hopes will last forever.

#jily #jple #jilytober #love in the time of spiderwebs #lily is soooooo down bad

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reguluswife28 · 4 months ago

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Drunken Confessions~James Potter

Request? No

Pairings: James Potter x fem!reader, platonic!Sirius Black x platonic!reader, platonic!Remus Lupin x platonic!reader, platonic!Peter Pettigrew x platonic!reader

Requests are closed

A/n: I’m getting back into a James phase so this was really fun🤪

Warnings: mentions of drinking/drinking, drunk James Potter, slight angst

Being apart of the marauders was always fun no matter what. Being in love with one while he fawned after another girl? Not so much. That’s the life of Y/n Weasley. In love with James Potter while he was in love with Lily Evans.

It was Gryffindor vs Slytherin quidditch day. So it’s bound to be an eventful one.

Currently the marauders were sitting at the Gryffindor table eating breakfast and talking about the upcoming quidditch match.

“It’s going to be a good match. Gryffindor winning of course.” Said James Potter throwing his arm around Y/n as he spoke.

“The party after will be even better.” Y/n grinned after she finished her toast.

“Did anyone get the fire whiskey?” Asked Sirius to which everyone nodded. They had stashed it away last night for the party they were sure they were going to have the next day.

Soon after it was time for the match. Remus and Y/n commentating with Peter sitting with them. “Alrighty witches and wizards todays match is Gryffindor versus Slytherin!” Y/n yelled into the mike happily.

“Gryffindor will win obviously we’re much better than those-.” Remus started but was already cut off by McGonagall knowing what he was going to say.

The match started and Slytherin were winning by 20 points. 10-30. The three Gryffindors in the teachers stands all shaking their heads trying to not go off.

Suddenly there was a bludger heading right for Sirius. “Move Padfoot! Those sneaky fucks sent a bludger for you!” Y/n yelled angrily warning Sirius but earning a scolding from McGonagall.

“Minnie you know it’s true!” The redhead said to her professor away from the mic.

“Come on James get the bloody snitch!” Remus shouted after Sirius had dodged the bludger.

Eventually the score was tied up 30-30 with James Potter and Regulus Black looking for the snitch. “Come on.” Y/n whispered to herself watching as James started to go after something. The snitch. Soon after Regulus followed in pursuit.

“James Potter has spotted the snitch and is going after it! Regulus Black follows soon after.” Remus and Y/n yelled into the mic.

Y/n pulled Peter up next to them as the three of them linked arms as they cheered in anticipation for James to get the snitch. “Come on Prongs.” The three yelled to him into the mic.

Both of the seekers reached out to grab the snitch but only one got it. James. “James Potter has got the snitch!” Remus shouted almost louder than before.

“Gryffindor fucking wins!” All three yelled. McGonagall just laughed and shook her head this time. She always did if Gryffindor won a match.

The three marauders who weren’t on the quidditch team quickly ran down to the field as fast as they could. They ran to James and Sirius who were in the middle of the crowd starting to form around James.

“James!” Y/n shouted as they got to them. “Vixen!” He shouted back hugging her and spinning her around. Y/n blushed hard even though it didn’t mean anything. Atleast he thought it didn’t.

She shook her head out of it and congratulated him as he set her down. She noticed Remus looking towards her with a sad type of smile, knowing her feelings for James.

The five marauders gathered up together again after James and Sirius changed back into regular clothes. They all walked back to the Gryffindor common room cheering and thinking up new pranks.

They got back to the common room and started setting up for the big party they were going to have a little bit later on in the evening. They set up quickly only having to set up the speakers for the music and getting the cups out for the fire whiskey, using magic to make it go quicker.

They sat on the common room couches just chatting now while other Gryffindors seemed to be out of the common room currently minus a couple others.

James was talking to Sirius and Peter and Y/n couldn’t help but stare from the couch herself and Remus sat on. She loved the way his curls fell or his dimples when he smiled. She probably looked like a lovesick fool to everyone but him. He was too infatuated with Lily to notice no matter how many times Y/n thought that maybe he liked her.

“You know you shouldn’t waste your time on him.” Remus said quietly to her snapping her out of her dazed staring.

She looked over to him giving him a slight frown. “It’s hard though Remmy.” She told him only talking loud enough where they could hear each other. “I know. But it hurts you more than anything.” Remus told her softly.

“I know.” Y/n sighs glancing over to James then back to Remus. “I’ll get over him tonight. That’s what I’ll do.” The redheaded girl said determination on her face although in her mind she wasn’t as determined.

“I hope you can to save you the hurt that may come.” Remus told her with a slight small sad smile.

“I’m going to go get ready.” Y/n told the boys standing up.

“You should probably go invite everyone else and make sure they’re coming.” She suggested to them. “Aye aye Captain.” Sirius joked saluting her. Y/n rolled her eyes chuckling.

She then walked to her dorm room which to her shock Marlene or even Lily weren’t in there currently.

Y/n went to her trunk and pulled out a simple dress that wasn’t too short. It was new. She had actually gotten it last week when the Marauders went to Hogsmeade.

She changed into the dress then went over to the vanity all the girls shared since the dorm was kinda packed.

As she went to it Lily and Marlene walked in. Lily looked annoyed. Probably James again. “You okay Lily?” Y/n asked finally sitting down at the vanity.

“It’d that stupid James Potter again! He won’t stop asking me out! He’s so frustrating!” Lily exclaimed confirming Y/n’s suspicions. “James can tend to be quite stupid.” Y/n chuckled grabbing her brush and brushing her hair.

“You two are coming to the party though, right?” She asked changing the subject while continuing to brush her hair out.

“We are. Gryffindor did win the quidditch match today.” Marlene, a chaser on the team said proudly. “Beat the Slytherin scum.” Y/n said with a slight smirk putting her brush down and using a spell to curl her hair, too lazy to actually do it herself.

The other two girls started to get ready too. After Y/n finished her makeup then Marlene did hers then Lily did hers.

Eventually it was time for them to head down to the party. All three girls linked arms as they got to the steps going down into the common room. The two redheads and blonde walked down the steps.

They all got drinks when they got down into the common room. Eventually all three separated to do their own thing.

Y/n went off to find atleast one of the other marauders. Oddly enough despite trying to get over him tonight she found James first. She was hoping to find her older brother Arthur Weasley.

He beckoned her over to which she did walk over to him. They were still friends and she couldn’t just ignore him.

“You’re looking gorgeous, darling.” James complimented grabbing Y/n’s hand getting her to do a spin. “Thank you, Prongs.” Y/n thanked him blushing but James didn’t seem to notice.

Or so she thought but James had noticed. He had noticed every time she blushed around him. He loved it but didn’t say anything in fear of that he was just thinking up silly things so he just went after Lily.

“Y/n right?” A boy asked coming up to Y/n who still stood beside James. “Yeah.” Y/n said lightly giving him a small smile. “Dance with me?” He asked shyly holding out his hand. “Of course.” The girl said much to James’s distaste but she didn’t have to know that.

The boy dragged her to where everyone was dancing, starting to dance with her. “What is your name? Sorry I don’t recognize you.” Y/n asked then apologized feeling a bit embarrassed she didn’t recognize him.

“You’re fine. My name is Dylan.” He said to her over the music. They continued to dance together and Y/n was actually having fun. Maybe she could actually get over James.

Meanwhile James slightly mad and extremely jealous at the situation was drinking and getting as drunk as ever.

It seemed to be that eventually James was on the couch drunk whining about wanting someone. He was surrounded by Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

“I want her Padfoot! With her pretty green eyes and red hair!” James cried out to him. “I don’t think Lily wants you Prongs.” Sirius told him trying to go easy on him.

“Lily? Who said I wanted Lily?” James said to him making the three marauders that were there confused. “I want Y/n! But she doesn’t want me. She’s off with that guy dancing and not caring about me!” James cried covering his face with his hands causing shock to spread across Sirius, Remus, and Peter’s faces.

Remus then left to go grab Y/n who was now sitting somewhere else with that guy having a conversation with him. “Sorry to interrupt but it’s James. He’s drunk out his mind calling for you.” Remus told her grabbing her arm to pull her up.

Y/n instantly got concerned. She turned to Dylan and apologized then ran following Remus to James.

“Jamie?” Y/n asked quietly as she got to the couch where he was. Now all the marauders were there. “Y/n?” He said uncovering his face.

Tears were in his eyes making Y/n’s heart break. Suddenly James attacked her with a hug. Y/n hugged him back and ran one of her hands through his curls.

“Why’d you leave me? Why did you go off with that guy? Don’t you know I love you?” James rambled off. “What? You know I love you too James.” She said to him.

“No! I’m in love with you!” James exclaimed shocking Y/n. There’s no way this is true. He’s just drunk right now. “We can talk about this when you’re sober James. Okay?” Y/n said in a slightly now shaky voice.

“Peter, Remus, Sirius. Help me get him up to your dormitory.” The girl asked standing up with James also standing up leaning almost all of his wait on her. The three boys did as asked helping her. They got up to the dormitories laying James in his bed.

“Cuddles?” James asked reaching out and grabbing Y/n’s hand. The other three had already walked out.

“I can’t stay up here. I have to go back to my dormitory.” Y/n tried to tell him but he just pouted at her letting go of her hand and crossing his arms.

She noticed this obviously and felt bad so she gave in. “Fine. Only tonight.” She said getting into the bed with James.

She never thought this would happen like this if it ever had happened.

“Good.” James said mumbling throwing his arm around her waist nuzzling his face into her neck. Her breathing hitched but eventually calmed down and they both fell asleep.

The next morning James woke up yawning with a pounding headache. He then noticed the girl beside him sleeping peacefully. Y/n. He started to freak out.

“Vix? Vixen?” He said quietly shaking the girl awake. The girl swatted his hand away slowly sitting up.

“What happened last night?” James asked her frantically worrying that they did something they’d both regret.

“Don’t worry James. It wasn’t anything like that. But, you did get drunk as hell.” Y/n told him. “What… what did I do? Why are you in my bed with me?” James managed to get out.

“Remus had came to me saying you were calling for me. You um… said you were in love with me? We all got you up here and you wanted cuddles and wouldn’t stop pouting until you got them.” Y/n explained slowly and softly.

“Oh..” James said red in the face with horror in his expression. “Do you.. not feel the same?” James asking putting his head down in embarrassment.

“Prongs. If I didn’t feel the same I wouldn’t have cuddled with you.” Y/n told him admitting her own feelings now causing James to shoot his head up quickly with a smile which quickly turned into a frown because of his headache.

“Be careful. You’re going to have a massive headache today.” She said to him with a slight chuckle.

“Can I kiss you?” James asked quietly to which Y/n nodded.

James wasted no time after that and kissed Y/n who instantly kissed back.

It was short and sweet but it was enough for the both of them who were relieved that they admitted their feelings to each other finally.

#hp imagine #marauders #jamespotter #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #siriusblack #sirius black #remuslupin #remus lupin #peterpettigrew #peter pettigrew #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders map #hogwarts fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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bri-cheeses · 6 months ago

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Fiercely and obsessively (wrapped around your finger) — Part 1

| Rosekiller Soulmate AU | Word Count: 854 |

“So? Have you got it?”

Evan’s curious gaze roamed over his body like he couldn’t wait for an answer, instead having to search on his own. Barty laughed.

“Yes, I’ve got it, keep your pants on.”

Evan quirked a small smile and settled down, the bed creaking as he shifted his weight. Barty wasn’t sure why they had ended up on his bed, seeing as there were plenty of other, better places to do this—such as the window nook, which was plenty big to hold them both, or potentially even the chairs in the common room downstairs. Regardless, when Evan had come crawling into his bed as soon as they awoke, Barty hadn’t complained.

“Where is it?” Evan asked, still impatient. His eyes tracked Barty’s movements as he reached up towards his left sleeve and rolled it up, revealing a black mark in the shape of a somewhat blurred slash.

“Wow,” Evan breathed. His eyes were wide.

“Wow,” Barty agreed. Evan had the right idea with being a little in awe. Of course, Barty had already seen it on Dorcas—who had turned seventeen already—but it was something entirely to see it on himself. A permanent mark that would come alive with colors once your soulmate, typically by accident, touched you in the exact place your soul mark was.

Although there were some rules, the most prevalent being that a soulmate could touch you before both of your seventeenth birthdays and nothing would happen, and again after only one of you turned of age, but the colors would only light up after you both became adults. So, theoretically, you could have known your soulmate for ages before you ever discovered that your very souls were aligned.

Barty’s eyes drifted toward Evan, situated comfortably on his bed and looking for all the world like he belonged there. Something within him warmed at the sight.

“What do you think of it?” Barty asked. Evan’s looked back to the mark on his upper bicep.

“It’s certainly something,” he said. Some kind of emotion clouded his eyes, but he turned before Barty could figure out what it was. “Do you think his or yours will light up first?” Evan nodded toward the sleeping form in the bed next to them, closest to the wall. Barty could just make out a head full of curls, the rest completely buried under a blanket.

“Dunno,” he answered honestly. Of course, for all they knew, Regulus’s mark could’ve already been lit up. He had never shown them where his mark was, no matter how much they pestered him to show them. And believe him, they had tried.

But Barty didn’t say that, because somehow that felt a little rude. So instead he settled for a simple, “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Like Dorcas,” Evan said.

Yes, like Dorcas, whose soulmate mark had remained black for two months after her birthday. It was just recently in a Quidditch game versus Gryffindor that hers had become colorful after a certain Marlene Mckinnon grazed her forearm while chasing after a bludger.

That had been quite a sight to see, both girls frozen in midair while the game raged on around them. Dorcas had been staring with wide eyes, and Marlene’s jaw had just about hit the ground a hundred feet below them.

The most ridiculous part was that they had agreed to shake it off for the moment and finish the game, causing an uproar in the stands as soon as they realized that they wouldn’t be getting a front row view to the drama they had been expecting. No, that had come after Slytherin lost by a mere 30 points and Dorcas and Marlene disappeared to hash out their differences. It had taken a while, but the two were now practically inseparable.

Admittedly, Barty’s eyes had gotten tired of seeing so much red and gold day in and day out. Marlene was a Gryffindor through and through and did not hesitate to let it show. Which Barty could admire, he supposed, if she belonged to an actual good house like Slytherin.

“If Regulus’s soulmate is another Gryffindor I might have to jump off of the Astronomy Tower,” Barty muttered.

Evan’s responding laugh from beside him put a smile on his own face, because there was no better feeling in the world than making Evan Rosier laugh a deep, real laugh, and not just the kind he used at fancy dinner parties whenever his parents’ friends made bad jokes. No, Evan’s real laugh was miles better than that ever would be, because his nose crinkled up and his face flushed and it really was a sight to behold.

Not that Barty would ever say that out loud.

“I’ll go with you,” Evan promised, reaching out a hand to ruffle Barty’s hair fondly. “Now come on, it’d be a shame to miss breakfast on your birthday.”

“You just mean it’d be a shame to miss a time where you can sing me Happy Birthday,” Barty accused, but he was grinning as Evan pulled him off the bed and into the start of another day.

(Part 2 is here)

#rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #dorlene my loves #rosekiller soulmate au #marauders era #rosekiller microfic #my microfics

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iwriteasfotini · 1 month ago

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Regulus was armed with the bottle of laxative. Now all they had to do was wait for Black and Potter to show up. To their extreme pleasure, all four boys sauntered into the great hall at the same time. “It’s meant to be,” Barty said under his breath. “Give them a minute,” whispered Severus. Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew sat down together, and started loading their plates. “Go, Regulus, before they pour their drinks!” Regulus hustled off towards the Gryffindors, while Severus and Barty picked at their food. Severus noticed Barty was indeed eating a bowl of plain porridge, yuck. Soon Black leapt up and started yelling, “Who did you hear that from? Did Narcissa say something to you?” The other three boys stood as well as. Black looked like he was about to push Regulus. >>>From TPP, Chapter XVI - Stinky Revenge<<<

Who says the Marauders are the only ones who can pull a prank?

This chapter has two theme songs. T. Swift dedicated to Lily and YUNGBLUD dedicated to Severus.

#pro severus snape #marauders era slytherins #slytherin versus gryffindor #marauders era #our love is written in the stars #regulus black #barty crouch jr #death eaters #slytherin #severus and regulus #regulus and barty #Spotify

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uhhlifeig · 2 months ago

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Quidditch Pitch - Nov. 27 - word count: 710 - @wolfstarmicrofic

The Gryffindor stands were buzzing with energy as the players zoomed onto the Quidditch pitch.

Up in the commentator’s box, Remus Lupin adjusted the enchanted microphone and smiled. “Welcome to today’s match: Gryffindor versus Slytherin!” His voice echoed over the stadium. “Let’s hope no one dies today, yeah?”

McGonagall was shaking her head exasperatedly beside him.

Remus sighed. The introductions were always the most boring part. “On the Gryffindor side, we have Alex Brown, Mackenzie Glen, and James Potter, Chasers. Our Beaters are Sirius Black and Marlene McKinnon, and Cassidy West and Noah Logsden as Keeper and Seeker respectively.”

Sirius tilted his broom in a mock bow towards the dirty blonde when Remus said his name.

“On the Slytherin side,” the werewolf continued, “we have Dorcas Meadowes, Mark Sanders, and Darcy Avery as Chasers, Kim Johnson and Carmilla Rivers as Beaters, Jackson Mulciber as Keeper, and their Seeker is Regulus Black. Yes, another Black! Because one wasn’t enough, apparently.”

Regulus scowled at the commentary box, adjusting his gloves.

“And they’re off!” Remus announced as Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The players soared into the air, James immediately snatching the Quaffle.

“Potter has the Quaffle- shockingly, not his biggest achievement today. He managed to not fall on his face this morning, folks. It’s a miracle.”

James threw him a dirty look as he dodged a Bludger.

“Oh, McKinnon with a fantastic hit! That’s right, show them how Gryffindor Beaters roll.”

Meanwhile, Regulus darted across the pitch. Remus just managed to catch a glimpse of his face before he flew away.

“And there’s the younger Black giving us all a masterclass on brooding while flying. A true Slytherin strategy- if they can’t win, they’ll look better losing.”

James shot toward the goalposts, weaving through the Slytherin defense with Sirius taking out anyone who got too close.

“Potter goes for it- he shoots, he scores!” Remus cheered. “Look at him. So proud of himself. That’s Gryffindor ten, Slytherin zero!”

A few moments passed without any excitement- until a well-aimed Bludger from Sirius sent the Quaffle spiraling out of a Slytherin’s grasp. James dove to intercept.

“Look at older Black and McKinnon proving that teamwork makes the dream work! And Potter- oh, look at that catch! Someone’s showing off.”

Remus watched as Sirius and Regulus crossed paths mid-air, gazes locking briefly before the younger flew away in search of the Snitch.

“And there’s the Black brothers, sharing a tender sibling moment,” the werewolf drawled. “Truly touching. Almost makes you forget they’re trying to knock each other out of the sky.”

James’s next pass was intercepted by a Slytherin Chaser, who charged toward the Gryffindor goalposts.

“Finally, some action from Slytherin! And there goes West, looking vaguely concerned. Can she- oh, no, she can’t. Goal for Slytherin. It’s ten-all, folks!”

A Bludger shot past his friend by mere inches, Sirius swerving out of the way when he saw it hurtling at him. Remus breathed out a breath of relief, announcing, “Sirius Black narrowly avoids a Bludger! Shocking reflexes from a man who tripped over his own feet this morning.”

A cheer sounded as Marlene sent Carmilla reeling with a Bludger to the shoulder.

“McKinnon, good job,” Remus said, his grin audible. “Show those Slytherins who’s boss around here.”

Eventually, Regulus dove for the ground, looking as if he had spotted the Snitch. Noah followed him, but the moment he realized it was a feint, he swerved upwards.

“And Baby Black pulls a Wronski Feint! Probably trying to pull more than that today, if you know what I mean,” Remus remarked with a sly tone.

Despite the chaos, the match pressed on.

“And that’s Potter with another goal- I think his ego is taking over, folks.”

Noah suddenly shot forwards, having spotted the Snitch. Regulus tailed him, but the Gryffindor grabbed it a millisecond before the younger Black brother would have, cinching a win.

Remus leaned back in his chair, smiling. “And that’s the game, folks! Gryffindor takes it, thanks to teamwork, skill, and, let’s face it, sheer dumb luck. Better luck next time, Slytherin. ”

He started a timer in his mind. One, two, three…

Sirius flew right in front of the commentary box, grinning broadly. “I guess that good luck kiss really did work, Moony.”

#guess who brought back commentator remus!!!#my babyyy hes so snarky #i love him so much #and siriussss #“i guess that good luck kiss really did work” YASS GET IT QWEEN #sorry 😭 i know im fangirling over my own work 😔 but sirius orion black the man you are 😍#oh and btw jegulus is totally hooking up in this au #emi writes sometimes #platonic moonwater #as in remus teases the fuck out of reg #and vice versa #but they still end up cuddling together at the end of the day #and sirius and james are feeling very jealous but theyre not sure why #maraudersera #remus lupin #wolfstar #moony x padfoot #moony #sirius x remus #sirius orion black #sirius loves remus #sirius black x remus lupin #sirius black #sirius being sirius #sirius and regulus #remus x sirius #remus lupin x sirius black #remus and sirius #remus loves sirius #regulus a black

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my-castles-crumbling · 3 months ago

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murder - Jegulus microfic - TTPD microprompt challenge - wc: 253

"What the..."

Pandora was the first one to say something. As Regulus and his friends sat at the table, eating an early breakfast before the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw game that would decide that year's Quidditch champions, they didn't notice right away when James Potter walked in. But when they did? There was shocked silence.

Until Pandora spoke, fits of giggles interrupting her words. "What is he wearing?" she asked, nearly choking on her eggs as she laughed.

Regulus, however, was still speechless. He felt his cheeks heat up to a flaming red, and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry as his eyes tracked James walking to his seat at the Gryffindor table. After a long minute, he whispered through numb lips, "I'm going to murder him..."

Because James Potter was wearing a shirt with a giant picture of Regulus's face on it, with the phrase 'Number 1 Seeker' underneath. And as he turned to greet someone, the words, 'Regulus's Biggest Fan' became visible on the back.

It was stupid. It was obnoxious. It was so James. Frowning and rolling his eyes, Regulus ignored the way all of his friends were laughing and met James's eyes from across the room.

'Good luck, baby,' his boyfriend mouthed, grinning and sending him a thumbs-up.

Smiling shyly despite himself, Regulus nodded and turned back to his friends, feeling warmth spread throughout his body, his nerves slowly melting away.

Fuck. Try as he might to deny it, Regulus loved James Potter. And his stupid fucking shirt.

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whizzing-fizzbee · 19 days ago

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Death By A Thousand Freckles

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC Rating: Explicit 18+ (smut, profanity); all characters are 18+ Tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining and sexual tension

Summary: Emilia Bell accidentally sees her best friend and teammate, Sebastian Sallow, clad in only a towel after quidditch practice. Now, all she can think about are all those damn freckles.

Notes: This is literally just a handful of drabbles I morphed into one story. Characters are 18-year-old seventh years. Emilia Bell is MC.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

"If Imelda fell into a pit of dugbogs, I wouldn’t miss her,” Emilia Bell muttered to herself.

The cold rain had chilled her to the bone. Her quidditch robes clung to her skin and her hair was plastered to her face. Thick mud caked her shoes and splattered up her calves until it met her knees. She was the shining example of someone who was sure to catch pneumonia.

It’d been a particularly grueling quidditch practice that evening. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor match was a week away, and would be the last rivalry match of her Hogwarts career. The same could be said for Imelda Reyes, her team captain who was hell-bent on ending her seventh year with the quidditch cup. All their team had to do was beat Gryffindor, and then they’d have a spot in the championship match against Ravenclaw.

Imelda had become more maniacal than ever, scheduling five practices per week in rain or shine. Preventing a goblin rebellion had been more pleasant than this, Emilia decided.

Emilia sat on a bench in the locker room to tend to a particularly nasty scrape she’d received after a collision with one of her fellow Chasers. The impact had stripped her skin raw and she winced as she bandaged it, making a mental note to stop by Professor Sharp’s private potion cupboard before dinner.

The rest of the team trickled in and out of the locker room in a rush to get away from Imelda’s orders for the evening. Emilia took her time, savoring the peaceful silence that accompanied her to the shower without the interruption of her teammates.

The steam was intoxicating as she stepped inside, the hot water pelting her chilled skin until it adjusted to the stark difference in temperature. She closed her eyes and tried to force all thought to melt away, washing it down the drain with the remainder of her day.

She’d stay in there forever if she could, but Ominis Gaunt was counting on her for a study session in the Undercroft after practice.

Still, she leaned against the wall, the cool tile chilling the skin of her back as she willed herself to relax. It’d be a lot easier said than done if it hadn’t been for her idiot of a best friend.

Emilia thought she was going to make it through one quidditch practice without incident, but on the final round of training drills, a spare bludger got loose and she spent the last 15 minutes of practice trying to reign it in. It, of course, had been Sebastian Sallow’s fault. It always was.

And per usual, Emilia took it upon herself to help him. After nearly three years, she still couldn’t help herself, even if it was his fault because he’d been too busy talking about some book he read to properly secure all the equipment.

So she was the one to watch as Sebastian lunged at the bludger, forcing it to the ground until the two of them managed to wrestle it into its crate, leaving Emilia muddy, wet and bruised. It certainly wasn’t the first time Sebastian Sallow’s actions had left her in such a state.

She sighed to herself, scrubbing away the dirt and grime as if it would also rinse her clean of the filthy thoughts that plagued her head. And, like usual, Sebastian was to blame for those too.

Of course, he didn’t know she’d suppressed the urge to tackle him into that mud and straddle him. He didn’t know that the chill of the rain wasn’t the only reason for the shivers that coursed down her back. He didn’t know her quidditch uniform wasn’t the only thing that was soaking wet.

He didn’t know she was hopelessly in love with him. No one did.

So when the sight of Sebastian covered in mud made their teammates flinch in disgust, Emilia leaned in closer. She helped him secure that stupid bludger and smirked. He thought it was because she was teasing him for his incompetence. He had no idea she was eyeing the way his wet uniform adhered to the skin of his toned torso.

She had to exhale slowly, the heat of her body rising at no fault of the hot water and steam. But it was too late. Those shameful thoughts of Sebastian and his tight, drenched clothing were embedded, snaking into the deepest caverns of her brain.

Her hand immediately snapped to her core, two fingers sinking inside. She chewed at her bottom lip as they dipped deeper, pressing into the spongy spot of flesh that made her breath hitch. But it wasn’t quick enough. Her fingers were dissatisfactory compared to the fantasy that clung to her senses.

She wanted Sebastian and all the features only he could provide; that mop of messy hair that she wanted nothing more than to pull; that arrogant smirk that she wanted pressed against her neck; those tiny freckles that she wanted to count, one-by-one, until she’d examined every inch of his skin.

She was too impatient, too desperate and needy to prolong her fantasy. So instead her fingers swiped against her clit, pressing and pulling, begging for release.

Finally, her nerves complied, the familiar swell of tingling cresting within her until it broke, sending her cunt into a sharp shudder that made her whimper in an attempt to be discreet.

When it was over, she rested her head back against the wall, the water washing away her secret little sin, but not the dastardly thoughts of her best friend.

She sighed and finished her shower, the water faucet creaking to a halt before she wrapped a towel around herself. The scent of her vanilla soap lingered through the steam. The locker room was quiet, all of her teammates gone in search of dinner.

She exited the row of girls’ showers to the locker room, where her clothes were stashed away. With no one else around, she could dress comfortably rather than in the cramped confines of the damp showers.

Except she wasn’t alone. She froze at the sight of those familiar shoulders, broad and peppered in freckles that would outshine any constellation in the night skies. The temptation to reach out and touch them was suffocating. Like Emilia, he was wrapped in nothing but a towel, though he bore much more skin than her.

“Sebastian,” she breathed, praying her tone wasn’t betraying her.

He turned and smirked when his gaze fell on her. She stood, shivering in her towel, water still clinging to her skin in droplets with her wet hair slicked back.

“Didn’t realize anyone else was still here,” Sebastian said. She barely heard him. She was too focused on looking anywhere but the waistline where his towel hung tantalizingly low.

“Had to take some extra time in the shower,” she croaked as nonchalantly as her voice would allow. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her and her cheeks flushed. “Because of all that mud, thanks to you,” she added quickly.

Sebastian laughed through his nose. “Right. Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Sebastian frowned as he eyed the bandage on her forearm. “Was that from your collision with Jennings?”

“It’s fine,” Emilia said dismissively. “Just a shallow scrape.”

“He’s an idiot,” Sebastian muttered. He took a step closer to Emilia, reaching for her forearm to examine the bandages she had charmed to repel the shower water. “Keep a close eye on that,” Sebastian murmured. “Don’t want it to get infected.”

Emilia snorted. “Seb, I’ve suffered much, much worse,” she laughed softly. “Remember that Ashwinder in Cragcroftshire?”

“Just making sure,” Sebastian said simply, his hand maintaining its gentle grip on her wrist. His thumb rubbed gentle circles over her forearm as he searched her eyes, as if he was trying to confirm she was genuinely all right. It made Emilia shudder.

“I’m sure I’ll recover from a little collision,” she said as Sebastian released her arm.

“Yes, yes, I know, the hero of Hogwarts,” he sighed, his lips curving in a teasing smirk.

He clearly hadn’t showered yet. There was a swipe of mud across his right cheek and his legs were covered in it. His messy hair was wet from the rain and his cheeks were red from the chilly air.

She had never been more attracted to him.

But as his gaze lingered on her, still clutching her towel for dear life, she wanted nothing more than to sink into the earth. She was too bare, too naked, too vulnerable. She was certain Sebastian didn’t see her in that way, anyway. Nearly three years of closeness, of sharing all their secrets, thoughts and fears, and he had never so much as held her hand.

But he also had told her he needed her – couldn’t live without her, as he so kindly put it one day after they’d had a particularly nasty disagreement. She was his rock, his glue, his beating heart. She had Sebastian Sallow in every way except the one she wanted.

“If you stick around, I’ll walk you back to the castle after I shower,” Sebastian said, his eyes still on her.

Stick around? Merlin. If she stuck around, she was certain she’d end up embarrassing herself. Fainting in a towel in the middle of the quidditch locker room in front of Sebastian would be worse than losing any duel or falling asleep during class.

Still, Emilia’s thoughts inched closer to that fine line, teetering toward those maddening images of all the things she and Sebastian could do while alone in that locker room. Two towels, tossed haphazardly on the floor; skin pressed into the tile walls, the grout lines leaving divots in their flesh; the sounds of their moans echoing off the walls, drowned out by the rain outside.

But she didn’t want to wait for him. She wanted to join him.

He was going to be the death of her. Her heart hammered inside her chest and her palms began to sweat. Her body was betraying her. She needed to get out of that locker room sooner than later.

“I’ve got to get back,” she said as steadily as she could manage. “I’m already late for a study session with Ominis. You know how he is about punctuality.”

Sebastian tutted. “Another time then.”

And then she watched those broad shoulders turn and retreat toward the boys’ showers, each freckle growing smaller and more out of reach.

What she didn’t know was that Sebastian had to commit a similar act of sin in the showers the moment he was out of sight.

---

Emilia spent two days obsessing over what Sebastian had meant.

“Another time then?”

Another time for what? Surely she had simply misconstrued the context of it all, especially considering Sebastian behaved completely normal after that.

She chalked it up to a simple slip of the tongue. She went about her days, teasing and laughing with her best friend like she hadn’t had to touch herself to the thought of him in the shower. It wasn’t the first time she’d fantasized over him and it certainly wouldn’t be the last – not when amortentia was the topic of the day’s Potions class.

Emilia was relieved to be paired with Ominis, but glanced around the classroom nervously. Sebastian had been paired with Imelda.

Emilia smelled leather and cinnamon in her amortentia potion immediately; leather because of Sebastian’s favorite chair in the Slytherin Common Room, where he’d often sit and read before bed; cinnamon for the way he took his tea each morning – with more cinnamon than most people could stand.

“What do you smell?” Ominis asked her as they put the final touches on their potion.

She pursed her lips, unsure how to answer. If she declined, surely someone would deduce that the source of her favorite scent was in the classroom. If she answered honestly, Ominis would surely know who she was referring to.

“I smell… leather and citrus,” she half lied. “And just a touch of something sweet. Pear, I think.”

Ominis appeared deep in thought as he considered her words, and she was grateful he couldn’t see the way her cheeks were flushed.

“What do you smell?” she finally asked.

“Honey and hay,” Ominis answered. Emilia smiled to herself. He had just described Poppy Sweeting.

“Hay, you say,” Emilia mused. “Like someone who might spend quite a bit of time around creatures.”

Ominis scowled at her implications. Emilia had spent months trying to coax him to admit his feelings for her petite Hufflepuff friend. But Ominis remained silent on the matter, though she was certain the pair would be a perfect match.

“Maybe you should spend a little more time hanging around the Beasts classroom,” Emilia suggested with a soft smile. “Since you enjoy the scent of honey and hay so much.”

“Maybe you should keep your mouth shut about this unless you want me to rethink my stance on Unforgivable Curses,” Ominous hummed. Emilia cracked her bubblegum in delight.

“Oi, what if all I smell is the quidditch pitch?” they overheard Imelda ask.

Emilia snorted. “How typical,” she muttered.

“Sallow here won’t tell me what he smells!” Imelda continued. “I reckon it’s something embarrassing like sweaty socks.”

“Why the fuck would I enjoy sweaty socks?” Sebastian retorted. Emilia shot him an amused glance, to which he rolled his eyes. She blew a bubble with her gum and shook her head before returning her attention to her own potion.

But instead of stirring her brew, her focus was whisked away by more provocative daydreams. What did Sebastian smell in his amortentia? Which lucky witch was the object of his desires? Did he fantasize over anyone the way Emilia thought of him? Did he long to count the freckles on someone else’s skin?

Sebastian had engaged in his fair share of after-hours activities with Hogwarts’ female population. But he and Emilia rarely discussed their romances, at least not with much earnesty. Emilia herself had only recently ended things with Amit Thakkar after deciding they were better off as friends. She didn’t dare tell anyone that, even when her affections were supposed to belong to someone else, Sebastian was always her final thought before she fell asleep each night.

She wondered what occurred in Sebastian’s fantasies. Had he ever pictured someone while in the shower, visions of slick skin pressed against skin? Perhaps he was more into public displays, sneaking sinful acts that were hidden in plain view of passerby? Was he more of the dominant type? Surely he was, Emilia decided. Sebastian loved to be in control, a perfect contrast to her desire to be pinned down and put in her place.

A sudden gurgling stole Emilia from her reverie. Her cheeks were hot and she was grateful for the distraction happening on the other side of the classroom.

“Garreth!” Ominis groaned at the familiar sight of Garreth Weasley’s cauldron boiling over. Its contents hissed as they spilled over the brim, splashing over the table and floor.

“Weasley!” Professor Sharp barked. “See me after class, once you’ve cleaned your mess up. Class dismissed.”

Emilia nodded to Ominis and scooped up her books to hurry from the classroom. She didn’t want anyone to see her flushed face or jittery state as she made a beeline to the Slytherin Common Room.

She also didn’t hear Ominis and Sebastian discussing their amortentia potions on the way out.

“What did you smell in yours?” Ominis asked his best friend curiously.

Sebastian’s eyes swept the corridor before he ran a hand through his hair. “Vanilla,” he answered. “Vanilla and bubblegum.”

---

“Ow, Sebastian, you stepped on my foot!” Emilia hissed.

“Whoops, sorry.”

“Sorry? I ought to hex you. You’ve got to be more careful!”

“Yes, mum.”

“Ew, don’t call me that.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Shh! Here they come.”

Emilia and Sebastian were crouched beneath the bleachers of the quidditch pitch, disillusionment charms cast as their eyes peeked through the wooden tiers. Somehow, the pair had drawn the short straw from Imelda and was ordered to spy on the Gryffindor team during practice.

Emilia noted that what they were doing could be considered cheating, to which Sebastian shrugged and Imelda threatened to burn her house down. Not to mention she owed Imelda one for the time her captain covered for her to keep her out of detention. Imelda had only done it so Emilia wouldn’t miss quidditch practice, but Emilia was indebted to her all the same.

“This is ridiculous,” Emilia groaned as she crawled to a spot where she could see the entire pitch while remaining out of view, her disillusionment charm falling. She sat and pulled her knees to her chest as she watched the Gryffindor Chasers toss a quaffle back and forth.

“Could be worse,” Sebastian shrugged as he sat next to her. He fished through his pockets before he brandished a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. He offered the open container to Emilia, who shook her head and cracked her bubblegum in response.

They watched the Gryffindors start their training drills, the students darting patterns through the air on their broomsticks overhead.

“Think we can beat them?” Sebastian asked.

Emilia tilted her head to look at him pointedly. “I think we can demolish them,” she answered blankly. “They’re bigger than most of us, but we’re faster.”

“They’ll play physical, especially up top,” Sebastian murmured. “We’ll need to keep an eye on you. They’re bound to mark you with double-coverage.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Emilia mused. “I can handle my own.”

“Trust me, I know you can.”

They fell quiet again, making mental notes as they watched Gryffindor’s tactics. Sebastian’s attention span quickly subsided, his gaze falling closer and closer to the ground until he had clearly become lost in thought.

Emilia studied him from the corner of her eye. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up and his green tie loosely knotted around his neck. She wanted to grab that tie and pull him in closer. No one would see them. She could crawl into his lap, his hands inching beneath the hem of her skirt over her thighs as she kissed every fucking freckle on his face. As long as they remained quiet, no one would ever know.

She swallowed and forced her gaze to return to the Gryffindors zig-zagging above.

“Think their Beaters will take a more offensive approach?” Emilia wondered. “If they remain back on defense, I doubt their Chasers will be quick enough to dodge all of us.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement. They watched as Garreth Weasley smacked a bludger through a goal hoop.

“Not to mention Weasley has the attention span of a niffler,” he added. Emilia smirked.

“That too,” she agreed.

“What’s this I hear about Weasley asking you to Hogsmeade, by the way?” Sebastian suddenly asked. Emilia’s head snapped to look at him, her eyes narrowing.

“How’d you hear about that?” she demanded.

“Ominis.”

Emilia hissed a sigh. “Traitor,” she muttered.

“What, you didn’t want me to know Weasley asked you out?”

“I couldn’t care less if you or anyone else knows,” Emilia said. “But it really isn’t anyone’s business. Especially because I turned him down anyway.”

“Why’d you say no?”

“Because I didn’t want to go out with him,” Emilia answered simply.

“You still getting over Thakkar?”

Emilia blinked. “What?” she asked, not bothering to mask her dumbfounded expression. “Amit and I broke up weeks ago.”

“Yeah, but… I mean, are you okay about it now? You’ve seemed alright but you aren’t exactly the type to ask for help,” Sebastian said.

“I’m fine, Seb,” Emilia assured. “It was never that serious with Amit to begin with.”

“Why’d you break up?”

Emilia stirred, unsure why Sebastian was suddenly peppering her with questions about her love life. It wasn’t that she had assumed he didn’t care, but romance wasn’t quite his preferred topic of discussion.

“I don’t know,” Emilia sighed. “Amit’s wonderful. Very kind and romantic, but I’m not sure any of that sickly sweet romance is for me.”

Sebastian blinked at her. “What woman doesn’t want a kind and romantic partner?” he asked, thoroughly confused. “I thought that was all you birds wanted.”

Emilia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so daft. Sure, I like kindness and romance, but I also like a little assertiveness.” The admission made her cheeks grow rosy and she averted her gaze from him.

“Assertiveness?” Sebastian repeated, his box of candy forgotten beside him. Emilia could feel his eyes drilling into her profile, but she determinedly remained positively enthralled by Gryffindor’s training drills.

“Sebastian,” she warned with a huff.

“No, tell me,” Sebastian pushed. “What do you mean by that?”

Emilia finally dropped her gaze to meet his. Sunlight was peeking through the bleachers, the lines of light casting a spotlight on Sebastian’s freckles. Emilia hugged her knees closer to her chest while she stared at those freckles, as if they carried an explanation that wouldn’t leave her embarrassed beyond ruin. She knew Sebastian would never judge her, but she also didn’t want to reveal the nature of her desires.

After all, Sebastian was the one asserting himself in all her fantasies.

“It means exactly as it sounds,” Emilia said flatly. “Think about it. Amit is a wonderful person but he’s not exactly the type to take charge or take control.”

Sebastian leaned back against a wood post, his arms folded across his chest as the realization dawned on him. “So you like to be dominated,” he murmured.

Emilia fidgeted with the bandage on her arm. “Something like that,” she tried to say casually as she avoided her gaze again.

“Guess that shouldn’t surprise me,” Sebastian hummed.

“What? Why?” Emilia asked sharply, her mouth suddenly going dry as her eyes met his again.

Sebastian shrugged as a bludger whizzed nearby. “Because you’re a control freak in every other aspect of your life,” he replied. “You’re a goddamn hero, for Merlin’s sake. You’ve had the world on your shoulders. You dissect every person dumb enough to duel you. You get top marks in every class. Group projects make your hair curl because you’d rather do everything on your own.”

Emilia blinked. She certainly couldn’t deny any of that. Sebastian knew her better than anyone.

“You’re always in control, Em,” Sebastian continued. “So I guess it makes sense you’d prefer to… let go of some of that control in the bedroom.

“Sebastian!” Emilia hissed. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her sexual preferences with the one person she wanted to indulge those desires.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s rather cute when you’re flustered,” he noted. “Not so in control now, are you?”

Emilia was certain he could hear her heartbeat slamming in her chest, despite the whoosh of broomsticks and batting of bludgers above them. He was right, though. She’d always been the epitome of composure. He was the only person who managed to make her lose her cool. And Merlin, was she hot.

“My sex life is none of your business,” she finally chided.

“Oh, come on,” Sebastian laughed as he lifted his arms to rest them behind his head, his long legs stretching out. “We need to talk about something interesting while we pretend to give a damn about those Gryffindors.”

“Fine,” Emilia said simply. “What about you? I assume I already know the answer, but enlighten me anyway. Do you prefer to be in control or do you like your women to throw you around for a bit?”

Sebastian smirked, which only made Emilia’s stomach twist into a tighter knot.

“I wouldn’t turn my nose up at either of those scenarios,” he said with an air of smugness. “But if I had to choose, I always prefer to take control.”

Emilia swallowed. She had to be dying from dehydration given how parched she was. It was too bloody hot to be sitting outside, secluded with Sebastian and the topic of sex.

“Just as I figured,” Emilia said, hoping she sounded confident. She wanted so badly to match him, to challenge his arrogance. But she also wanted to be the submissive complement to his dominance. It was a maddening conflict.

“Oh? What makes you take me for the dominant type?”

Emilia snorted. “Oh, come on, Seb,” she said. “Everything about you screams dominant.”

“I like screaming.”

Emilia’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Was there something in the air that was causing him to speak so flirtatiously? Sure, the pair flirted, teased and joked, but this felt much bolder than anything they’d previously discussed. Sebastian seemed to be pushing her buttons, testing her limits.

“You’re a downright pig,” Emilia said, though her laughing tone and smiling eyes stripped her of all seriousness. Sebastian merely grinned and shrugged a shoulder.

“You’re right, though,” he said. “There’s a lot to be said for the power that comes with taking control.”

“That’s not why you do it, though,” Emilia noted. “At least, it’s not the only reason.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Emilia rolled her eyes, her sweaty palms tucked beneath her legs as she spoke. “You’re also a very giving person, Seb. You give everything your all. You don’t do anything halfway… Which is why you like to take control. It allows you to ensure your… partner is fully satisfied.”

Sebastian let out a low whistle. “I knew you were perceptive, but now I’m starting to suspect you’re a Legilimens,” he said. “Almost as if you’ve given this quite a bit of thought.”

Oh, if only he knew. The heat in Emilia’s cheeks was surely giving her away.

“You could only be so lucky,” she shot back.

“Apparently,” Sebastian replied, his eyes glinting with amusement. They fell quiet and Emilia fidgeted with her skirt hem. When Sebastian noticed this, he nudged her gently in the side.

“No need to be so bashful about it, darling,” he said. “It’s just me.”

That was the problem. Emilia wasn’t the type to shy away from much of anything. Few things scared her, or even unsettled her. And even though she and Sebastian knew one another deeper than anyone, he was the one person who could unnerve her without even trying.

“You are distracting me from my scouting,” Emilia said, gesturing toward the quidditch pitch. Sebastian snorted.

“Please,” he drawled. “Like you’re worried about Gryffindor. Just flip your hair at Weasley or something and the game’s over.”

“Flip my hair? Sebastian, that’s awfully sexist of you.”

“Well, it’s true! I’d do it myself but I don’t think I’m Weasley’s type. He’s got it bad for you. Just do that thing where you draw your hair back with your hand and chew on your bottom lip. That’s enough to send anyone into a spiral.”

“ What thing?!”

“Nevermind.”

“No, what the hell are you talking about?” Emilia was sitting straight up, her body turned to face Sebastian with full attention.

“Forget I said anything.”

“No, tell me right now.” Emilia shoved a hand against his shoulder for emphasis.

“Hey, no need for physical violence!”

“Tell me!”

Sebastian sighed and tilted his head backward, resting it against the post as he peered upward into the bleachers for a moment.

“You do this thing,” he started carefully. “Where you pull your back into a ponytail and hold it in your hand. And then you chew on your bottom lip. You do it when you’re deep in concentration, like your hair in your face is a distraction or something. It’s just very… very alluring.”

Emilia tensed. “Alluring,” she repeated blankly. She didn’t know Sebastian could ever think of her that way.

Sebastian nodded silently. “Perhaps even a bit provocative.”

Oh, Merlin. They were in for it now. Emilia could feel herself hurtling toward her demise, and Sebastian had been the one to push her from the ledge.

“Provocative,” she whispered.

It was Sebastian’s turn to shift uncomfortably. It was a rare act of vulnerability he couldn’t conceal. He had all but admitted outright to her that he’d envisioned her partaking in racy deeds that surely breached the boundaries of friendship.

But the way the hem of her skirt had snaked its way above her knees had turned his brain to dust. There wasn’t a single coherent thought behind his eyes as she continued to mull his words over.

He prayed she wouldn’t sense his discomfort; the beads of sweat that had settled along his hairline; the clench of his jaw that made his teeth ache; the stiffening inside his trousers that threatened to ruin everything.

It suddenly dawned on them that their faces were much closer than usual. Sebastian could smell the sweetness of her bubblegum. Emilia could see every freckle with clarity. A few more inches and their lips could solve all their problems.

But the shrill whistle that signaled the end of Gryffindor’s practice made them both jump and sent them scrambling to their feet.

“They’re going to come this way,” Emilia hissed as she recast her disillusionment charm. All thoughts of indulging in any fantasy were abandoned as the pair scurried back toward the castle.

---

The evening before the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match was met with tension. Imelda had been a downright tyrant during practice, screaming until she was hoarse. The team practiced for three hours in the rain, until Madam Kogawa showed up to bark orders at them to return to the castle.

“There won’t be a match tomorrow if you’ve all got pneumonia!” she scolded.

The remainder of the team showered and scampered back to the castle, eager to rest up for the evening. Emilia remained behind again, sitting quietly lost in thought on the locker room bench.

She wanted to claim her thoughts were focused on the next day’s match. She wished she could chalk it all up to nerves and her determination to win. She longed to be that dedicated to her team and sport.

In reality, her attempts at thinking about quidditch vanished the moment she realized she was alone. Those stupid, calamitous fantasies about those freckles surged through her brain again.

She and Sebastian hadn’t spoken in two days, not since the afternoon under the bleachers. Emilia had managed to avoid him at all costs, even slinking in late to their shared classes so he couldn’t sit by her.

It was all painfully immature, but Emilia had no other option. She was terrified by what her conversation with Sebastian meant – or didn’t mean. Was it shameless, silly flirting? It had to be, right? If Sebastian had ever been interested in her romantically, he would have said something or made a move by now, right?

Emilia was too cowardly to find out. She’d long ago come to terms with the conclusion that she and Sebastian would never venture beyond friendship, but it would splinter her heart to ever hear that confirmation out loud.

She’d rather suffer in silence than ever broach the subject that could dissolve her daydreams forever.

“Don’t tell me you got hurt again.”

Emilia’s head snapped up. “Sebastian,” she breathed. He leaned against an archway, still clad in his quidditch robes like her.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked. “You’ve missed dinner.”

“So have you,” Emilia pointed out.

“I was polishing my broomstick in the storage cupboard.” Emilia straightened in her seat, forcing Sebastian to bark a laugh. “Not like that,” he mused. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You said it, not me,” Emilia mumbled.

Sebastian chuckled and pushed himself off the archway, slowly approaching until he stood in front of her. Her fingers dug into the tops of her knees.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said gently as he peered down at her.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy scrambling to get away from me.”

“Nonsense,” Emilia said, praying Sebastian hadn’t noticed the way her voice increased by an octave. “Seb, I’ve had a lot going on.”

“Oh? With Eric Northcott?”

“What?”

“I heard he was trying to get you alone in the Potions storeroom yesterday.”

“And you believed that?” Emilia asked incredulously.

“I believe he was trying to get you alone,” Sebastian answered. “Didn’t say anything about thinking you’d actually join him.”

“Good,” Emilia said with indignation. “Because our little… conversation the other day doesn’t mean I’m rabid with lust for every male to walk the halls of Hogwarts.”

“Oh believe me, I know. We all do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emilia demanded.

“It means that we’ve all noticed you, but most of us are too terrified of you to do anything about it.”

Emilia narrowed her eyes. “Terrified of me,” she scoffed. “Sebastian, please. I haven’t hexed anyone in the school since last term, and we all know Puffskein Duncan deserved it.”

“Maybe so, but you’re still pretty intimidating,” Sebastian noted.

“How am I possibly intimidating?” Emilia breathed. “Just because I’m powerful with a wand doesn’t mean I’m some bloodthirsty killer.”

“We’re not scared of you because you can kick our arses. We’ve known that for years now,” Sebastian said. “We’re scared of you because you’re too damn beautiful and none of us know how to handle it.”

The air vacated Emilia’s lungs immediately. It made her woozy and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d slipped into one of her dreams. Perhaps she was sleepwalking, or maybe she’d been the victim of one of Garreth’s concoctions that made the drinker manic. She couldn’t fathom a lucid world where Sebastian Sallow thought she was beautiful. Sure, other boys fancied her dark hair and bright smile, but Sebastian had always appeared immune to her appearance. He never seemed to pay any mind to her softer, feminine side.

“Sebastian, did you take a bludger to the head?” Emilia asked. “You’re talking crazy.”

He let out a pitchy laugh and sat on the bench next to her, close enough so that their thighs touched.

“You can play coy as much as you want,” he said. “Especially if that’s your thing.”

“My thing?”

Sebastian smirked at her. “You said you like it when someone else takes control in these situations. I’m merely listening to what I’ve learned.”

Emilia’s stomach did somersaults. This couldn’t be happening. She sat, her shoulders tense as her nails pressed tiny divots into her legs.

“Sebastian,” she rasped. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking control,” Sebastian said simply. “I’m tired of overhearing all these stupid little rumors about you and Northcott and Weasley. I’m claiming what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?”

“If you’ll have me.”

There were no words. Things like this didn’t happen to Emilia. Her life’s story was marred by tragedy – death, destruction, the fate of the wizarding world left within her hands. Wild, lustful romance was usually reserved for her imagination, far from reality.

“Sebastian, are you sure? Do you even know what you’re saying? Have you been meddling with dark relics again?”

Sebastian glowered at her and she couldn’t help but smile. “I know exactly what I’m saying,” he said. “It’s the same thing I’ve wanted to say for nearly three years.”

“What?”

“Come on, Emilia,” Sebastian sighed. “I’m trying to be seductive here.”

Emilia snorted. “Sebastian, this is ridiculous.” His face fell, to Emilia’s horror. “Not because I’m not… interested, but because you don’t need to seduce me.”

“I don’t?”

“No, idiot,” Emilia breathed with a laugh. “You could’ve just straight up told me.”

“Oh. Well I wasn’t sure-”

“Well now you are.”

“I am?”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“For once in your life, stop talking. Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

He obliged.

Hands grasped hungrily at robes, pants and other articles of clothing as the pair refused to separate their lips. When they finally parted for a breath of air, Sebastian pulled away slightly to smile.

“Bubblegum,” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“Bubblegum. That’s what I smelled in my amortentia. Bubblegum and some sort of vanilla.”

“Oh,” Emilia smiled. “The vanilla is the soap I use in the shower.”

“Ah.”

“Care to see it?”

Within mere moments, Sebastian had her pinned against the wall of one of the girls’ showers. He kissed her hard, his tongue seeking more bubblegum flavor from hers as he peeled away the final bits of clothing that remained over her hips.

“Unreal,” he breathed as his eyes roamed her naked body. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

He stepped closer to her, his bare cock pressing against the flesh of her stomach as he kissed her again. She arched her back off the wall at the sensation, desperate to find out how hard he could get.

Sebastian reached for the faucet as he kept his lips crushed against hers, the hiss of hot water showering them as their fingers familiarized themselves with the other’s flesh.

Emilia reached for his cock but his hand found hers, curling around her wrist. He swept his arm upward, pinning her arm against the tile above her head.

“Didn’t say you could have the privilege of touching me just yet,” he said in her ear. His voice was a low, husky grumble.

They were only getting started and Emilia was already melting beneath the authority Sebastian was asserting. She was never going to be the same after this.

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her neck, drawing a low moan from her. His mouth moved across the ridge of her collar bone to the top of her breasts.

“I can’t believe anyone was created so perfectly,” he mumbled against the swell of her right breast. He placed another kiss to it before his tongue slipped over her nipple. It made her breath hitch and core quiver.

Sebastian continued his trail of kisses downward as he sank to his own knees in front of her. He planted a kiss just below her belly button, then one on each hip bone before he flashed her a villainous smile.

He placed one more kiss to the skin just above her slit before his tongue sank inward toward her entrance. It made Emilia gasp with fervor. Sebastian’s tongue glided over her clit, pressing into her folds. A low growl rumbled from his throat as he tasted her arousal.

“Sebastian,” she breathed, her eyes falling shut as his tongue flattened and flicked against her clit. Her hips jutted forward and one hand tangled in his hair.

Sebastian’s hands gripped her thighs as he lapped at her, desperate to know how she sounded when she fell apart.

His mouth engulfed her entire entrance, sucking against her flesh as he savored her taste. Emilia whimpered at the heat that coursed through her. It settled in her nerve endings, searing in the form of a familiar ache Emilia never thought Sebastian would ever relieve.

“Sebastian, I-”

Her words died as Sebastian traced spell patterns across her clit, a trick he’d learned from listening to the older boys during his early Hogwarts days. He drove his tongue harder against her until he could feel her thighs start to quake. They jiggled in his hands and he hummed at the sensation.

The vibration made Emilia moan, her climax creeping to the surface. She grinded her hips against him, nudging her clit in quick, jerking motions against his tongue. The curtain of tension inside her fell and the swell of ecstasy started. It erupted through the bundle of nerves and made her toes curl as her back arched off the wall, a moan singing through the shower corridor.

She slumped over when it subsided, a fog clouding her thoughts as she recovered. Sebastian sat back on his heels as she caught her breath.

“My turn,” he said as he stood. He propped himself against the wall with one hand as he leaned in to kiss her. Steam surrounded them as Sebastian’s hands rested on Emilia’s hips.

She melted into his kiss, her head still hazy until Sebastian drew her closer by the waist with a rough pull. He kissed her harder, one hand tangling in her hair until he gave it a sharp tug. Emilia’s head snapped back and he kissed her neck before he guided her away from the wall by the hair.

“I said, my turn,” he said quietly. He pulled his arm downward, forcing Emilia to her knees by her hair. She eyed his erection and reached for it with one hand until Sebastian swatted it away.

“Use your mouth,” he ordered. Emilia obliged.

She took him into her mouth, her hands resting against his thighs as her head bobbed. Sebastian kept one hand fisted in her hair, pulling it away from her face in a ponytail. He smirked as the visions once confined to his daydreams came to life.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured, his eyes holding affection as he admired the way her lips wrapped around his cock.

When his tip hit the back of her throat, he grunted at the plush warmth. Emilia gurgled around him, holding him in her throat as she nodded her head. When she pulled away, her lips dragged over his shaft, tongue flat against the bottom. The cold, pebbled floor left raw and red dimples over her knees.

She hollowed her cheeks as her lips tightened and pulled repeatedly, the sounds of wet lips sucking against flesh resounding over the shower stalls.

Sebastian drove his hips forward, his cock gliding in and out of her mouth as the movements of her head clashed with his thrusts. When his cock began to twitch, Sebastian yanked her makeshift ponytail backward, her lips separating from his cock with a soft pop.

“Stand up,” he ordered as he released her hair.

Emilia rose to her feet and he pulled her into a long kiss. His hands explored her front, cupping her breasts until they drifted over the curve of her torso and squeezed her hips. His erection bobbed against her stomach, the hot water leaving him slick.

Sebastian eyed the bar of soap that sat on the tiny shelf of the shower, its scent so familiar and comforting. He swiped it over Emilia’s breasts, leaving a trail of milky vanilla. The sight of the soap suds cascading over her nipples made Sebastian chew at his lip in desire. He rubbed his soapy hands over her body, taking care to touch every inch of skin he possibly could. He watched with admiration as the shower streamed lines down her body, rinsing her clean.

“How are you so fucking perfect?” he murmured.

Sebastian pinned her against the wall again, one hand snaking between her thighs. His fingers dragged lazy lines over her clit, the moisture of her arousal combining with the shower water.

Emilia was growing impatient. She’d take anything Sebastian was willing to give her, but her focus was on convincing him to fill her with his cock. She whined as he sank a finger inside her, her core swollen from her previous orgasm.

“Sebastian,” she begged. “Please, I need more.”

Sebastian tutted in her ear and curled his finger. “You’re going to have to ask nicer than that, darling.”

“Please,” Emilia rasped. Sebastian’s eyes met hers. They were dark with devilry.

“No,” he said simply. “Not yet.”

Emilia gnawed on her bottom lip to withhold a scream of frustration. Sebastian added a second finger and pumped his hand hard. His fingers forced themselves against her front wall, plunging into her soft sweet spot. The sounds of water and arousal squelched with every motion, drowning out the tiny whimpers escaping Emilia’s throat.

Sebastian attacked her neck with forceful kisses as her breaths grew heavy and quick. They mounted in tandem with the wave inside her, her walls squeezing Sebastian’s fingers in search of release. Emilia’s hips beckoned it from his fingers, which Sebastian pulled upward at a merciless rate. He could feel her clamping tighter and tighter until her head snapped back and she released, her walls fluttering around his fingers as she cried out.

Sebastian smirked at how spent she looked, flushed and sweaty, her hair plastered to her face as the shower rained over her curves. The sight was so sinful, Sebastian’s cock began to throb.

He reached with one hand to shut the water off. The sound of water hitting the rough floor was replaced with the cool, quiet air of the still room. Emilia shivered.

Sebastian wrapped her in his arms, pressing his body against hers for warmth. But just as she started to relax into the heat of his skin, he scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder as he retreated to the locker room.

“Sebastian!” she laughed, her breasts flattening against his back. “Put me down!” Sebastian smirked at the sight of her ass, hoisted in the air as her legs dangled in front of him.

When they reached the benches at the center of the locker room, Sebastian set Emilia on her feet.

“I’ve had years to think about all the different ways I’d have you,” he murmured in her ear. “All the ways I’d make you moan. All the ways you’d take my cock. All the ways we’d both come. The possibilities are endless. But since you like me to be in control, I’ve decided there’s nothing I’d like more than to watch you fall apart beneath me. I want to take you on your knees.”

Emilia nodded in silent agreement, her eyes begging him to begin. Sebastian nudged her toward the bench, where she sank to her knees. Sebastian stood behind her and swiped at her entrance with one hand, the familiar warmth coating his fingers. His cock was so hard, it was damn near painful.

He lined himself against her entrance and pushed forward, the tip of his cock slipping into her folds until she stretched around him. He watched with heavy eyelids as her cunt swallowed his shaft until he was fully sheathed.

He paused for a moment, swallowing at the searing heat surrounding his cock.

“You’re too fucking tight,” he said through gritted teeth. He had no idea how he was meant to last when she was so taut, so warm beneath him, her skin still glistening and wet. It was far more erotic than anything Sebastian could have imagined. His cock was already twitching.

Emilia’s fingers gripped the side of the bench for stability as Sebastian rocked against her, his cock dipping inward until he pulled it back. Emilia held her breath as her core stretched to accommodate him, the increasing friction making her walls clench.

Sebastian reached for her hair again, tugging backward until Emilia moaned. He watched the ridge of her spine curve as her head snapped backward and grunted at the sight.

He leaned forward to cup her breasts, his hips snapping forward in a harsh thrust. It nearly knocked the wind from Emilia. As Sebastian bent forward to press a kiss to the back of her neck, he murmured, “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“It’s not enough,” Emilia breathed.

The atmosphere shifted like changing winds. Sebastian’s final pillar of hesitation and restraint crumbled like weathered concrete at her words. She was more than he’d even dreamed of and right now, she was his.

Sebastian straightened up, his hands gripping Emilia’s hips as he slammed his cock into her with a resounding smack. The rhythm carried throughout the locker room repeatedly as Sebastian grit his teeth so hard, his jaw ached. He didn’t care. Lightning could strike him down or the ground could collapse and swallow him whole at that moment. He’d die happily now that he knew how it felt to have her.

But if he was going to live, he decided he wasn’t going to do so unless he could have her again and again. He wanted the vision of her falling apart beneath him to be the last thing he saw each night, and he wanted the sound of her moans to fill his dreams until he could wake up and do it all over again.

He’d address that later. For now, he was content to simply have her in that moment, trusting him to take care of her and fulfill her.

The more her arousal coated his cock, the quicker Sebastian thrusted. His cock drove upward into her, driving into her sweet spot. It was rapid and hard, the pressure mounting within Emilia’s core until it felt like her body might ignite from the heat. Each connection of Sebastian’s thighs against Emilia’s ass made her skin ripple, the waves symbolic of the rising tide within her. Finally, the wave broke and she cried his name, her cunt shuddering around his cock.

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian groaned at the new sensation of her climax flooding around him. The sight of her spent body, now slack with satisfaction, was too much for him.

He pumped hard into her twice more before he let out a shout and his cock jerked and burst inside her. Emilia moaned at the warmth that coated her swollen core until Sebastian slumped over her back, panting breathlessly above her ear.

He didn’t want to separate from her. The warmth of her soft body felt like home to him. But as her arms shook from supporting her weight and the force of his thrusts, Sebastian pulled himself off of her, one arm tucked around her waist to pull her upright with him.

“All right?” he murmured softly in her ear. She nodded silently as she turned to face him, her hair wild and her eyelids heavy. Sebastian couldn’t help but smile at her sinful and disheveled appearance. “Come here,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “Come sit.”

He guided her onto the bench where they sat, side by side. Sebastian draped an arm around Emilia, who cuddled up against him. Their bodies, still damp from the shower, seeped water onto the bench as they sat quietly.

Sebastian watched Emilia’s eyes fall shut as she rested against him. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over her arms as he held her. When she opened her eyes again, she smiled softly, her eyes studying his freckles. She couldn’t believe she was able to study them so close, each speckle marking something unique and special.

“Imelda’s going to kill us if she finds out this happened,” Emilia mumbled.

Sebastian breathed a gentle laugh. “If we beat Gryffindor, Imelda will let us do whatever the hell we want,” he said. “She’d probably encourage this.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to do this on the desk in the captain’s office next time,” Emilia suggested.

Sebastian quirked an eyebrow at her. “Next time, huh?”

Emilia flushed. “Perhaps, if you want,” she said slowly. Was she naive for assuming this was meant to happen more than once? It wasn’t like she and Sebastian had spent any time discussing their intentions.

Sebastian laughed and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re mental if you think I’m letting you do this with anyone else, ever again,” he said.

When they finally gathered themselves up off the bench, they collected their clothes in silence. Sebastian kept his eyes on her the entire time, admiring her curves and their graceful movements once more before they became concealed by her uniform.

The only time he turned his back was to search for his belt. As he did so, Emilia memorized every freckle scattered across his back.

---

Perhaps the Slytherins slightly underestimated their Gryffindor rivals. Slytherin managed to nab a narrow victory over the lions, but not without a grueling fight.

The team gathered in a heap at the center of the quidditch pitch in celebration, the screams and cheers from their housemates ringing throughout the stadium. Sebastian, who was at the bottom of the pile, didn’t realize who was on top of him until he was met with the familiar scent of vanilla and bubblegum.

“Ow, Imelda!” Emilia squawked, well aware that she was facedown on top of Sebastian, who was on his back. “That was my head! Everyone get off, I’m getting crushed!”

“You’re getting crushed?” Sebastian exclaimed from beneath her. “What about me?”

“Sebastian, stop moving,” Emilia ordered. “Sebastian, that was my chest!”

“Oops, my mistake. Didn’t realize.”

“Liar.”

The bodies above them shifted until Sebastian and Emilia were the only ones left. The roar of activity around them faded to a background hum as Emilia remained sprawled on top of him, her face inches above his.

“We fucking won,” Sebastian murmured, dropping his voice so that only she could hear.

“Told you we would.”

“Told you Weasley would get distracted by you.”

He reached up and gently tugged her ponytail before she pressed a kiss to his freckled cheek.

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