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matchavellichor · 2 years ago

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No Better Way to Warm Up

Sebastian x Ominis x f!MC - NSFW - 5.7k words - ao3

(Part two here!) (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

A/N: no one ask why I'm writing an xmas oneshot in the middle of may, i'm shamelessly procrastinating on my other wips rn lmfao

Tags: Idiots in Love, Pining, Drinking, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Threesome - F/M/M, Hesitant Ominis, Eager Sebastian

Summary: Ominis, Sebastian, and MC are snowed in the castle together during winter break. After an entire bottle of Ogden's, a long night of banter, and much-lowered inhibitions, the three friends soon find themselves in a rather intimate situation that not a single one of them is apt to resist.

The three friends huddled in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, hands outstretched in front of the flickering flames in an attempt to draw out the numbness in their fingers from the cold. They had just returned from a short trip to Hogsmeade, after much insistence from Sebastian that an assortment of treats from Honeyduke’s was absolutely essential for a proper Christmas Eve celebration, regardless of the harrowing conditions outside.

Both boys had decided to stay at Hogwarts for winter break to keep their dear friend company, refusing to let her spend her first Christmas in the wizarding world alone. It was a strange feeling to occupy the castle after the majority of the students had gone, but there was also a pleasant sense of coziness in having the common room all to themselves, considering all the other Slytherins had families to go home to.

“You’re going to catch a cold.” Ominis admonished lightly when he noticed she was still shivering after a few minutes. She hadn’t taken off her coat, despite it being soaked from the melted snow, the damp wool clinging to her skin. The blonde sat up from his spot beside her, feeling around her shoulders until he reached the buttons on her front, quickly undoing them with deft fingers. He continued scolding her under his breath as he peeled away the sullen fabric, slipping the coat from her shoulders. Despite how much she’d usually fight him for it, it was admittedly sort of endearing the way he coddled her so often, handling her with a strange sort of protectiveness she’d never experienced before.

Sebastian was of a similar fashion, though his doting was usually expressed in more subliminal forms and accompanied with a fair amount of teasing to go along with it. Nonetheless, the ways the boys treated her had made her feel more loved than she’d ever felt in her entire life and she found herself growing increasingly attached to them. Their friendship had grown so strong over the past few months, and she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was growing a sense of genuine affection for the pair of Slytherins, though she’d never allow herself to indulge in these thoughts.

She thanked Ominis meekly through chattering teeth as she settled back down in front of the fire. Her sweater underneath was subtly damp and so she begrudgingly decided to remove it as well, draping it over the stone mantel of the fireplace to dry out. She was too preoccupied to notice the way Sebastian’s eyes lingered over her exposed skin as she settled back down between the two boys, at how he traced the outline of her curves under her camisole with his gaze, nor did she pay any mind to the way his face flushed immediately after, chalking up the pink on his cheeks to a side effect from the cold.

Sebastian cleared his throat nervously and shifted his attention towards rummaging through his rucksack and pulling out the assortment of Yuletide sweets. He made sure to purchase an impressive variety, determined to expose her to every facet of wizarding Christmas. He couldn’t help but feel his stomach flutter as he watched her face light up at the sight of them, a smile breaking out on her lips.

Her fingers brushed against his momentarily as she took the sweets from him and he frowned. “Poor thing, you’re freezing.”

He took her hands in his gently, squeezing her fingers in an attempt to seep some warmth into them. The warmth in his hands seemed to go straight to her cheeks instead, and she reprimanded herself in her head for enjoying the feeling of her hands in his a little too much.

Sebastian pulled out a few bottles of cider next, setting them down on the stone in front of the fireplace to warm as he pulled out one final item that neither of his friends had spotted him purchasing. He set his bag aside and cracked open the bottle of Ogden’s, pretending not to notice Ominis’ obvious disapproval at the tell-tale sound of the bottle of strong liquor opening.

“What? There’s no better way to warm up.” He murmured through the rim of the bottle as he took a swig, grimacing slightly as the firewhiskey burned a path down his throat. He extended the bottle towards the blonde, shaking it enticingly. “Go on now.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Ominis muttered, rolling his eyes before he snatched the bottle from the brunette’s hand and begrudgingly took a drink himself. He handed it back to Sebastian and the brunette held it out to her now, tilting his head in an encouraging manner.

“I’ve never had any.” She admitted sheepishly.

“And you won’t have any.” Ominis objected in that paternalistic tone of his, shooting a stern glare towards Sebastian.

“Loosen up, Ominis.” Sebastian sighed as he pushed the bottle into her hands. “Let the girl have some fun.”

She gave an uneasy smile to Sebastian as she finally brought the bottle to her lips, taking a much larger swig than she probably should’ve. She painfully willed herself not to grimace or show any indication of the burn in a stupid attempt to prove herself in some way. Nonetheless, she choked out a few coughs as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and handed the bottle back to Sebastian, who looked positively delighted with her.

“See? Takes it like a champ.” He commented, a satisfaction in his eyes that made her feel warm inside.

The next several hours were spent bantering amongst themselves and working down the remainder of the liquor and the sweets, the last vestiges of daylight blurring into darkness as the blizzard continued to rage outside. At some point she had stumbled towards her dorm room and lugged out her gramophone, forcing the boys to drunkenly twirl around the common room with her to the latest Muggle composers. They took turns dancing around with her, Ominis doing so with an impressive amount of finesse, most likely due to years of pureblood etiquette lessons. Sebastian was a bit less poised, nearly knocking her down on several occasions and spinning her in his arms until her head was dizzy. By the end of the night she was nearly in tears on the floor from laughter, her head a fuzzy haze from the endorphins and alcohol.

When the peak of the evening had eventually died down they settled onto the couch together, where she inevitably curled into herself as sleep slowly overtook her, her head falling against Ominis’ shoulder and her legs draped over Sebastian’s lap. The boys exchanged knowing glances in the silence, allowing themselves a few more moments to bask in the serenity of the situation they found themselves in. Neither boy had to say a word, they were both blissfully aware of just how much the other was shamelessly enjoying this.

Sebastian rubbed gentle circles absentmindedly on her legs where her skirt had slightly ridden up and Ominis softly brushed her hair back from her face, delicate fingers tracing her features. They couldn’t help but admire how perfect she felt pressed against them and they would’ve stayed there forever if they could, just listening to her soft breathing. Eventually though, Ominis being the more responsible of the two, cleared his throat and broke them out of their audacious indulgence.

“Come on, love, up.” Sebastian sighed as he begrudgingly stood himself up, running his hands down her shoulders gently to rouse her from her sleep. “Off to bed.”

“But I’m not even tired,” She murmured through a yawn as Ominis stood and helped pull her up from the couch, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her.

“Aham, sure.” Ominis smiled softly down at her as they began their walk towards the girl’s dormitories, Sebastian following beside her. He tangled his fingers in hers and she eagerly welcomed the contact.

“We should have a sleepover,” She remarked eagerly, her speech slightly slurred and drowsy from sleep and the lingering effects of the firewhiskey. “We can…mmh all sleep in my bed.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea—”

“ Sebastian .” Ominis interjected with a scolding tone. “We’ll all sleep in our own beds.”

“But that’s no fun.” She frowned, turning to the blonde with heartbroken simpering. “Don’t you want to sleep with me, Ominis?”

“That’s — that’s, uh, hardly appropriate, I—” He flushed immediately, stumbling over his words at the innuendo.

“Trust me, Ominis would love nothing more than to sleep with you.” Sebastian informed with a smug smile, amused by the way the blonde turned red and immediately whacked him in the shoulder.

“You’re…you’re both so…so nice to me,” She continued her dozy ambling, a soft smile on her face. “Mmh, my boys.”

They pushed open the door to her room and settled her on her bed, Sebastian sinking to his knees to undo the laces on her boots and Ominis sitting beside her. She leaned her head on his shoulder and watched Sebastian, his fingers working diligently to get her ready for bed.

“You’re a terribly sappy drunk.” He chuckled, looking up at her. He couldn’t help but notice how absolutely enamored Ominis looked beside her, pink tinging his cheeks.

“It’s quite cute though.” Ominis remarked softly, wanting to stretch these last few moments out for as long as possible before they’d both have to retreat their dorms and have to stifle their longing yet again.

“You’re quite cute.” She replied as she turned to face him, a love-drunk smile on her face and her eyes half-lidded.

Ominis flushed profusely at the compliment, his mouth opening to stammer some nervous reply, but before any comment could be made, her lips were suddenly on his.

Both boys stood frozen in shock, barely even conscious of what had happened, the gesture feeling like a dream. Ominis looked as if he could faint, and Sebastian was expecting the blonde to immediately have pulled away, but when she curled her small fingers into the front of his robes and he groaned against her mouth, it became clear that not even Ominis, as stuck-up and decorous as he was, could resist the likes of her.

She was the one that finally broke the kiss. Her eyes widened as she looked at Ominis’ flushed face and parted lips, then looked down at Sebastian who was still frozen by her legs in front of her. It was as if the reality of what she had done had just caught up to her, sobering quickly and her cheeks warming with shame. She brought her fingers up to hover over her glistening lips and Sebastian couldn’t help but marvel at how precious she looked, overcome with the desire to leave her that breathless with his own kiss.

“I–I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—” She began immediately, her voice coated in mortification and he wanted nothing more than to tell her that she had nothing to be sorry about. Confess every single feeling the both of them had harbored for her for the longest time, admit to every hidden fantasy that they had shared over her, every secret desire.

He simply couldn’t help himself. He had shut her up with his mouth before she could ramble, swallowing the gasp she let out against his lips. He slowly rose from his knees, towering over her on the bed and he was delighted when she didn’t pull away, instead her hands coming up to cup his cheeks and pull him in deeper.

“Sebastian, we should stop.” Ominis spoke up beside the two after a moment, his voice strained. He was still trying to muster some composure after what had happened, and this was proving even more difficult as he listened to what was unraveling beside him. He was desperately trying to cling to rationality and not give into temptation.

“Do you want to stop?” Sebastian pulled his lips away for a brief moment, directing the question towards her.

She paused, staring up at him. She didn’t know what she wanted — a confusing mixture of uncertainty, nervousness, and desire clouded her brain — but she knew for certain that the last thing she wanted to do was stop. She took in a shaky breath before she swallowed, shaking her head.

Sebastian’s lips were on hers again in the next second, his kiss more brutal this time, hungry and passionate and bruising. She involuntarily whined against his mouth and it clearly had an effect on both boys.

Ominis paused behind her, wide-eyed and considering for a moment. Was this really happening? Should he stop this before things got too far? Did he even have the willpower inside him to stop this?

Sebastian didn’t let any of the blonde’s plans in impeding this come into fruition though, backing her up against Ominis’ chest until she was in his lap. “Touch her, it’s okay.” He told Ominis encouragingly, sensing his friend’s hesitations, before he dove back into her lips.

The feeling of her tight, warm body pressed against his, the soft little moans that Sebastian was pulling from her lips, the brunette’s encouraging words, it was all enough to make his walls crumble. How could he resist when all he ever wanted was right here in his arms?

His hands hesitantly came up to do as Sebastian said, hovering over her skin for a brief moment before he brushed back her hair from her shoulders, his fingers tracing her soft skin as if afraid to touch her. He slowly leaned down, his warm breath sending goosebumps down her spine when he finally attached his lips to the sensitive skin of her neck.

She moaned at the contact and it was all the approval he needed before he allowed himself to give in completely, his lips reveling in the feeling of her warm skin. She was intoxicating and his desire for her ached deep inside him, his trousers strained where she was pressing against him.

“If you want to stop at any moment, if anything bothers you, tell us. You don’t have to do anything you wouldn’t like to.” Ominis breathed against her ear, his self-restraint slowly slipping from him. He had to make sure she was comfortable with this, that she wouldn’t regret this. “Do you understand?”

She nodded, her voice caught in her throat. She was too enraptured by the feeling of their lips on her to form any semblance of a coherent sentence.

“Words, love, use your words.” Sebastian urged gently.

“Yes,” She blurted out, her entire body warming at the term of endearment. “I—I understand.”

She let out a small gasp when she felt Ominis’ tongue on the side of her jaw. He licked a hungry stripe down her neck, desperate to taste more of her. She could feel how stiff he was already as she squirmed against him, his chest pressed to her back while Sebastian loomed over her.

The boys explored every inch of her as if she were a work of art to be analyzed and discovered, to be worshiped and adored and studied intently with their mouths and hands. There was still a gentleness to the way they handled her, one similar to the manner that they always treated her, but she could tell that they were holding back, that they were balancing on the precipice of succumbing to their darkest desires.

It was clear that Ominis was trying to be a mediating force, scolding the brunette when he got too impassioned and nipped her bottom lip, earning a whimper from her and making him fret that they were being too rough. She could tell that even his self-control was faltering though, by the way his fingers dug into her hips to still her when she writhed against him, rubbing against his erection until it was too much for him to handle.

“Is this okay?” Sebastian asked softly as his hands trailed to cup her breasts t hrough the thin fabric of her undershirt. “Can I touch you here?”

“Please,” She breathed against his lips and it was all the approval he needed to rub gentle circles over the sensitive flesh. He palmed hungrily at her breasts, before circling her nipples with his thumbs, smiling at the way she gasped from the contact. He dipped his head down to plant kisses along her collarbone.

Ominis’ lips left her neck, his hand sliding down in its place and gently taking hold of her chin, tilting her head up and maneuvering her so he could take what he wanted from her. His lips met hers with a desperate urgency, his tongue slipping in her mouth immediately with a hunger to taste her.

“So fucking perfect.” Sebastian whispered against her skin as his mouth trailed down her chest, leaving innumerable kisses as he explored. He took his time when he reached her breasts, tonguing her nipples through her undergarment and soaking the thin cotton with his saliva.

She was a mess . She could feel the slickness coating her thighs under her skirt, Sebastian pressed in between her legs as he worked at her breasts. Ominis’ kiss was enough to make her head spin, his tongue exploring every inch of her as his fingers tangled through her hair.

“Let me take this off,” Sebastian muttered in a lust-drunk haze as he groped hungrily at her breasts through the fabric.

“ Sebastian , slow down.” Ominis pulled his mouth away from hers begrudgingly to admonish the brunette for his lack of patience. The last thing he wanted was to rush this, to make her uncomfortable in even the slightest way.

“It’s—it’s okay.” She said breathlessly which seemed to surprise both boys. Sebastian looked up at her for further confirmation. When she nodded, he eagerly began on the long line of buttons on her front.

He was surprisingly slow and gentle while he undressed her, despite his fervent desire. He wanted to savor every inch of her, kiss every tiny bit of exposed skin and make her feel worshiped and cared for. He wanted her to know his adoration for her in every caress, every brush of his lips.

“Arms up, darling.” Ominis ordered her softly when Sebastian began tugging the shirt over her stomach.

She was on another plane of existence at the moment, her brain fuzzy from pleasure. How could she possibly keep her wits about her when she was sandwiched between two boys that were kissing, licking, and caressing every sensitive inch of her? Thankfully, wits were the last thing she needed right now, and she had never felt safer than she did in the moment, despite her obvious lack of control. It felt so good to be able to trust them so much, to know they would do nothing but care for her and attend to her every need.

Ominis helped her raise her arms, smiling softly to himself at how much of a mess she was, her limbs adorably limp and languid. If she was in this state already, how would she be when they actually got their way with her? They didn’t plan on stopping until they had coaxed multiple orgasms out of her, until she was a weak, little thing underneath them that barely even remembered her own name.

Sebastian slipped the thin piece of cotton over her head, groaning when the sight of her bare chest was finally revealed to him, his hands immediately finding purchase on her skin, kneading the soft flesh.

“She’s so beautiful, Ominis.” Sebastian breathed out, awe-struck.

“That I already knew,” Ominis murmured dotingly, placing a tender kiss to her temple.

Sebastian’s hands ran affectionately up and down her sides for a few moments, appreciating just how perfect she looked laid out in front of him, only the warm, flickering light from the kerosene lamp beside them dancing over her features. He dipped his head down to let his tongue work at her sensitive breasts, sucking with open-mouthed kisses until he left pretty little marks on her perfect, untouched skin. Ominis’ lips never left hers, pouring all his devotion into every kiss he left on her neck, her cheeks, her lips, every tender little bit of exposed skin he could reach that made her breath hitch in her throat.

The feeling of Ominis’ erection pressed against the small of her back, and Sebastian’s against her inner thigh drove her insane. She bucked her hips, a pathetic array of pleas spilling from her lips that would’ve left her embarrassed from the neediness in her voice if she wasn’t utterly drunk on lust at the moment.

“Where, hm?” He asked softly as his hand trailed over her thighs, the smallest hint of taunting in his tone of voice that made her grow even needier. “Here? Is this where you want me to touch you?”

“S-Sebastian, please—” Her voice caught in her throat as his hand hovered over her core, his fingers brushing over the fabric of her skirt and pressing against her.

“Tell him to stop and he’ll stop.” Ominis reminded her reassuringly and his voice was so soothing, so grounding in her ear that she almost sobbed from how perfect it all was.

“Don’t stop.” She finally begged, grinding her hips up to meet his hand, desperate for any friction to relieve the ache between her thighs.

Sebastian eagerly obliged, unable to contain himself any longer. His hand slipped under the hem of her skirt, coming in contact with the wet fabric of her panties. “ Fuck , she’s soaked.” Sebastian marveled at the sensation, breathless. He toyed with her slowly, rubbing the wetness in with his fingertips. “Is all this for us?” He stroked gently up and down the soft cotton, delighting himself with the way her hips sought out his hand, the soft little whines tumbling from her lips.

“Stop torturing the poor girl, Sebastian.” Ominis chastised lightly, though she could hear the amusement in his voice. He loved having her like this, loved the way she writhed against him, loved feeling her lips stutter against his when Sebastian applied a bit more pressure and the pleasure was too much for her to kiss him back properly. He couldn’t help but imagine kissing her while Sebastian was fucking her to the point of tears, to feel her come undone in his arms and swallow every pretty moan she let out.

“Such a mess,” Sebastian tsked as he pulled her panties to the side, his fingers collecting her wetness. “The prettiest little mess.”

“ Please , Sebastian.” She begged, and it was music to his ears. If she was making all these pretty sounds with just his fingers, he wondered what kind of noises she would make when he was buried deep inside her.

“Give her what she wants.” Ominis said mercifully, his hands coming up to toy with her nipples.

Sebastian sank one finger inside of her, biting his lip at how warm and wet she felt squeezing him. None of his filthiest fantasies could’ve prepared him for the actual feeling of her.

“So fucking tight,” He murmured as he placed gentle kisses on the inside of her thighs, pumping in and out of her slowly, careful to allow her to adjust to the sensation. Her moans only encouraged him, and he reveled in the way she gasped when he eased another finger inside of her. “I don’t think she’ll be able to take us, Ominis.”

“I—I can take it,” She said defiantly, her head falling back against Ominis’ shoulder as Sebastian continued his slow, languid pace.

“Not yet, darling.” Ominis hushed her, kissing her cheek.

The feeling of Ominis’ hands rolling her nipples, the open-mouthed kisses he was leaving on her neck, the way Sebastian’s fingers curled inside her in just the right spot, it was all too much. When his pace quickened and he brought his thumb to rub tight, little circles on her clit, she saw stars. “Please, please, please, oh God.”

“ Fuck , you’re gorgeous like this.” Sebastian watched intently, wholly infatuated at the way her face contorted in pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut. “Eyes open, I want you to look at me.”

She immediately obliged, her fluttering open to meet his. He looked at her as if she were the most breathtaking sight in the world, taking in every little feature and committing it to memory. He made a mental note to get his hands on a Pensieve after this, so he could replay the image of her falling apart so beautifully on his fingers over and over again.

Sebastian’s fingers hit just the right spot and the coil of tension inside her exploded, her entire body trembling as she let out a strangled moan. He didn’t stop until she was writhing away from him, her hands weakly pushing his wrist away from the overstimulation. Ominis murmured praises in her ear the entire time, brushing back the hair sticking to her sweat-damp cheeks and placing doting kisses to her temple as she came down from her high.

“Gods, fucking taste her.” Sebastian breathed out as he slipped his fingers out from inside her, bringing them up towards Ominis’ lips. She watched through half-lidded eyes, her head still dizzy from the mind-shattering orgasm, as the blonde licked hungrily from his friend’s fingers, savoring the taste.

It was as if something snapped inside of him and suddenly he was slipping out from behind her, Sebastian quickly taking his place. He sank down to his knees in front of her, his hands coming to rest on her thighs to keep her legs spread for him.

Despite how eager he was to get another orgasm out of her himself, Ominis restrained himself, knowing she was still sensitive and recovering. He adjusted her against Sebastian so that she felt secure in his arms before he leaned down to kiss her slowly, plying her open to him and being mindful of her reactions, making sure he was touching her in all of the right places.

There was a carefulness to the way his lips met hers that made her head spin in the most delicious of ways, a gentleness in the way he trailed his lips down her neck, dragged his tongue over her sternum and then around her nipples. His kisses slowly increased in intensity, his touch becoming hungry and bruising before he sank down to plant kisses along her navel, just above the hem of her skirt.

Sebastian was quiet behind her, as if fully immersed in the sight before him, only the sound of his pants against her ear. She could feel the twitch in his trousers against her back every time she’d moan or let out a breathy gasp. He was utterly enraptured, as if he enjoyed watching her like this, watching Ominis touch and kiss her while she squirmed.

“May I?” Ominis asked, his hands on the clasp of her skirt.

“Yes.” She nodded, semi-conscious of the fact that she’d probably agree to just about anything at this point as long as it meant they kept touching her.

Ominis slid her skirt down with a resounding amount of care, her panties coming down with it. His hands came up to marvel at her hips, squeezing the supple flesh as if he wanted to tear her apart. She was so soft , it was maddening, and some part of him wanted to absolutely ruin her.

She was completely nude now, her only modesty lying in her wool knee socks. She probably should’ve felt embarrassed, exposed, insecure , yet she had never felt more secure and comfortable in her life.

“Beautiful, so, so beautiful.” Sebastian whispered in her ear with an awe-struck breathlessness, taking in the sight of her body over her shoulder.

Ominis’ lips were trailing up her thighs from her knees, torturously slow and deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every inch of her. He bit the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and chuckled when her hips jolted from the contact. “So sensitive.” He whispered and she could feel him smirking against her skin.

He ran his tongue over everywhere except where she needed him most and it was driving her insane. She wanted to beg, cry, anything in order to relieve the growing ache between her legs from the lack of stimulation. Despite her recent orgasm, seeing Ominis in front of her worshiping every square inch of her body made her insatiable once again.

Finally, as if deciding to grant her mercy, she felt a soft kiss just on top of her mound, watched him rub his nose against it and groan from the taste.

“Please, Ominis.” She whined, squirming underneath him but he increased the pressure of his hands on her hips to still her.

“I know, sweet girl, I know.” He hushed against her skin and the vibrations of his voice against her made her even needier.

“Who’s torturing the poor girl now?” Sebastian chuckled, his warm breath fanning her ear. He placed soft kisses on her shoulder, his eyes glued to the beautiful sight before him.

Ominis placed another kiss on her mound, just above her clit and she keened, earning a satisfied groan from both boys. It drove her insane, something about them finding great enjoyment in turning her into a pathetic mess, in watching her whine and beg for them.

Ominis’ hands intertwined with hers, pinning them down to the mattress beside her hips as he finally licked a long stripe through her slit, collecting the wetness on his tongue. “Tastes like heaven.” He moaned, his grip on her hands tightening.

“Well, that’s because she’s an angel.” Sebastian smiled fondly, pecking her cheek. Her head dropped back against his shoulder and he couldn’t help but study her face obsessively. It was truly the prettiest sight he had ever seen, her brows furrowed and her lips parted as a pathetic array of pleas and whimpers fell from her little mouth.

Ominis was growing more insatiable by the second, licking broader and broader strokes through her folds. He shifted his attention to her clit, tonguing soft circles around the sensitive nub until she was moaning his name desperately, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Feels so good, doesn’t it?” Sebastian whispered in her ear as he watched her writhe, her legs struggling against where Ominis was keeping them pinned to the mattress. “Can’t even keep still, poor thing.”

Ominis slackened the grip on one of her hands, guiding her hand to his head. When he increased the pace of his tongue on her, she instinctively tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling on it. He groaned in satisfaction at the sensation, desperate to bring her to climax soon, concerned that if he kept this up any longer he’d be finishing in his pants.

“Ominis, please — oh, God don’t stop.” She moaned, her hands holding his mouth pressed against her cunt. He had never experienced a greater euphoria than this, his fingers digging into her thighs so roughly he was sure he would leave marks.

“So fucking perfect,” Sebastian moaned against her skin as he planted searing kisses along her neck, leaving marks all over her skin. “Cum for us, just like that, God — that’s it,” His hands kneaded at her breasts, rubbing over her sensitive nipples until she was a mess. “Our pretty girl.”

She reached her peak with Sebastian’s encouraging words in her ear, her wetness dripping down Ominis’ chin, and he savored every drop, lapping at the evidence of her climax hungrily. He didn’t pull away until she was pulling at his hair and pleading, overcome with pleasure. She twitched from the aftershocks as he finally came up to kiss her and he couldn’t help but smile against her lips, the taste of her on his tongue.

“You’re better than I could’ve ever imagined, do you know that?” He whispered, overcome with satisfaction at her soft little pants, at the way her bare chest heaved underneath him.

She gave him a soft, pleasure-drunk smile, barely able to form any coherent thoughts, much less words. She was on cloud nine, utterly high from the endorphins, a languid, syrupy mess in between the two boys who were still kissing her softly as they eased her down from her second orgasm.

They wanted to coax a third, fourth, fifth out of her but could tell by her inability to even thoroughly keep her eyes open that they had probably reached her limit for the night. Their focus was completely on making her feel as safe and cared for as possible, at earning her trust and confidence, thus they knew they had to take this slow. There would be other opportunities to leave her thoroughly sore and fucked out, that they were sure of, but tonight wasn’t one of them.

The boys shifted her until they were laying on the bed on either side of her, their arms wrapped protectively around her. She barely had the energy to move a muscle, but she decided to force herself anyways, eager to return the favor from all the care she had received tonight.

Her hands came into contact with Sebastian’s belt but he quickly stilled them, pulling them up to his lips to place soft kisses on her knuckles. “Not tonight, love.”

“But I—”

“Another time.” Ominis assured her, his lips brushing over her bare shoulder. “Rest, darling.”

“But you didn’t—”

“So concerned,” Sebastian chuckled, placing a chaste kiss on her lips and caressing her cheek with a feather-light touch. “We’ll survive, I promise.”

She settled back against the pillows reluctantly, sandwiched between the two boys. Ominis pulled the covers over the three of them and she had never felt more loved than she did at the moment, listening to Sebastian’s heartbeat as she rested against his chest, Ominis pressed flush against her back as if any personal space between them would be unbearable.

Ominis traced soft patterns over her arms, reminiscing in the feeling of her soft skin on his fingertips. Sebastian was of a similar manner, his thumb brushing back and forth on her hip bone.

“There’ll be another time then?” She whispered sometime in the stillness of the aftermath, just before she let sleep overcome her.

“Oh, certainly.” Sebastian answered quietly, his arms around her tightening. “Or did you think we were letting you go after this?”

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blueraineshadows · 4 months ago

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Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Chapter 12 - Tangled

Tags: NSFW / PTSD / Angst / Violence / Blood / Dark Wizards /

Chapter Master List and Ao3

Chapter Twelve: Tangled

When it came to dramatics, Rookwood had the flair for being unfailingly civilised whilst delicately peeling the skin from your back with his icy words. Dressed like a true English gentleman, there was not a speck of dirt on his coat, his top hat carefully balanced atop his head, his hands clean despite the dirty work being attended to. Rookwood had no need to accumulate grime under his fingernails, or risk a stain on his fine waistcoat when he had lackeys all too eager to do the manual labour for him.

The young man on his knees in the middle of the prisoner tent was sobbing. His hair was a mess, filthy and limp, the skin of his hands and feet black with dirt, his clothing rumpled from several days in lock up. Saliva and blood trickled from his mouth, dripping from his chin to stain his trousers as he tried to choke back the croaky sobs. He shook as he tried to keep his head up, but another booted foot slammed into his ribs and sent him sprawling across the packed dirt floor of the tent.

Rookwood grimaced as though disgusted, throwing a look up at the faded cloth of the tent roof and sighing. “It’s such a shame that it must come to this,” he mused, shaking his head, his tone borderline sympathetic as he looked down at the pitiful sight. “I consider myself a fair man. I treat you well here. There is food to eat, whores to rut with, and a place to rest your head, and yet…and yet, you still betray me.”

To the rear of the tent, MC felt herself stiffen as she watched the scene unfold before her, sick to her stomach at how Rookwood truly believed himself to be some kind of saviour to these Ashwinder followers. Most of them came from troubled backgrounds, seeking a place to belong, and following a darker path because there were no other options for them. The few days she had spent in this Ashwinder camp had brought forth memories of long days in the orphanage, the hollow eyes of hungry children in those dark winter months. Little to live for, and yet you fought to hang on to every moment. It was every man for himself despite the appearances of this being some kind of “family”.

This was no family.

The man delivering the kicking was the camp Executioner. A man-mountain with a mask covering the lower half of his face, his eyes cold and brutal as they peered above the cloth. His arms were thicker than MC’s legs, his neck solid, and his feet deadly when aimed at one’s ribs. The man on the floor was clutching his side, his breath wheezing dangerously as blood trickled from the side of his mouth. The glitter of eyes above the mask were those of a predator, the scent of fear and blood inside the tent was palpable, and yet it seemed to rile up those present. Aside from her.

Glancing sideways, she caught the eye of Sebastian, his look dark and brooding as he stood with his arms folded. He met her gaze with the merest hint of a headshake, warning her to keep her mouth closed. It was safer that way, he would say, not wanting her to risk any more attention than she already received from the other camp members. Despite their efforts to maintain an outward appearance of distance between them, Sebastian was still the over protective menace he always had been.

Rookwood paced the floor, slow and deliberate, his forefinger and thumb gently caressing the neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard on his chin. “It is not respectful to bite the hand that feeds you, boy,” he said icily, his eyes like flint in the glow of the lamp. “Let this be a lesson learned. One more toe out of line, and I won’t be so gracious next time.”

The young man merely sobbed and wheezed, barely able to nod his agreement as he tried to get back up onto his knees. Even now, his eyes were turned to Rookwood with pleading, trying to gain some ground by almost worshipping at his feet. MC had to turn her head away from it all, fixing her gaze on the entrance of the holding tent, ignoring the chains and table laden with instruments of pain.

Footsteps approached her, the delicate scent of cologne reaching her nose as fingers gently took hold of her chin. Resisting the urge to flinch, MC let the hand turn her head back to the room, meeting a pair of cold, blue eyes. Eyes she had thought closed forever by her own hand.

“Come now, sweet one,” Rookwood said, smiling as though this was some kind of social tea party. “That’s enough drama for one evening, wouldn’t you say? Time for us to have that proper chat I’ve been promising you. Shall we?”

He offered out his arm, the very image of genteel behaviour, whilst his eyes sent shards of ice down her spine. MC swallowed hard and kept her chin lifted, maintaining a cool expression as she nodded. Hating every moment of this, she put her hand into the crook of Rookwood’s elbow, her eyes daring to glance towards Sebastian once more as she was led towards the tent entrance.

A muscle was twitching in Sebastian’s jaw, his eyes ablaze with barely contained aggravation as he had no choice but to watch her being led away. In the brief seconds they had eye contact, she could feel his frustration, and tried to convey her reassurance. It was all part of the plan, it was all game play. She had to be the epitome of willing and pliable in order to fool Rookwood. She could do this.

The cool, night air hit her cheeks, the freshness of it soothing after the stench of the tent. Rookwood led her across the camp, past fires and gang members huddled under thick cloaks, whilst a cold moon looked down upon on them.

“I hope you find your accommodations here with us suitable, MC,” Rookwood said, strolling along with ease. He flashed a suave smile. “Although, I am sure anything beats the comforts of Azkaban. Our humble tents must feel like palaces in comparison.”

A pallet on the floor of a tent shared with a female Ashwinder who snored louder than a Graphorn could hardly be described as luxury, but she managed a smile in return nonetheless. “I manage just fine, thank you.”

“No trouble from other campmates?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. “I call us a family, however I am not so much of a fool to believe that bad behaviour won’t take place. The disappointing scene in the tent just now merely proves my point.”

“I can handle myself,” she said firmly, her face hardening.

Rookwood’s smile dripped with cold delight. “Oh, I know, sweet one. I know. I also know that despite your murdering little hands wiping out his uncle, Sallow seems rather taken with ensuring your safety. He was most keen to have you out of Azkaban, and assured me that I would be in need of his assistance should you choose to resist joining my crew. It’s a curious little set up we have here. It makes one wonder where loyalties truly lie.”

Arriving outside the larger, and far more elaborate tent that Rookwood used, MC fought the tight feeling in her chest as she maintained her careful indifference.

“I’m loyal to myself,” she said, the words falling from her mouth with surprising ease. When she met his cold, enquiring eyes, she didn’t flinch. “When you spend years alone in a prison cell, you have plenty of opportunity to think. I’ve been let down all my life, and I’m not about to expect anything different any time soon. Sallow is one of those who let me down. If he wants my loyalty, he will need to earn it, just like everyone else.”

Rookwood narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “You are a cold little thing, aren’t you?”

MC shrugged and took her hand from his arm, stepping away from him, and her face remained hard. “Can you blame me? Even you need to prove that this is worth my time. You know better than anyone how easily I could wipe you off the very ground you stand upon. I could have this camp ablaze in seconds, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I’m here because I choose to be. Now, what’s it worth?”

His smile was slow, the greed in his eyes shining brighter than the moon above their heads. His chuckle was low and dark as he lifted the tent flap and gestured for her to enter. “You are delightful. Please, do come in. We have things to discuss.”

Enchanted to be a most luxurious and stately residence, Rookwood’s tent was like a home from home with all the comforts one could wish for. He strolled in and gestured towards a chair decorated with lovely wooden scrollwork, the cushioned seat plush and inviting. MC sat, her back straight, her hands placed loosely on her lap where they were in close proximity to the wand strapped on one thigh, and a silver dagger on the other.

“You know, I remember you when you were a slip of a girl in her Hogwarts robes, sipping butterbeers in Sirona’s bar. It was quite the wholesome little scene,” Rookwood said, casually fetching a wooden chest from a sideboard and carrying it towards the table where she sat. “You are still a slip of a girl, but not so much of the wholesome anymore, hmm? A cold blooded murderer, and an ex-convict. I wonder if those charming townsfolk would still be so quick to jump to your aid these days.”

His eyes were knowing as he brushed back her hair to reveal the prisoner number tattoo on her neck. A shiver swept over her and she glared at him. Did she not shove those very fears deep inside of herself every day?

“I knew nothing about the power I had back then. Things are different now. I can take care of myself.” In trying to maintain control, her words sounded brittle to her own ears, her mouth tight and almost grim.

“Indeed,” he smiled, opening the chest on the table with a flick of his wand. He reached in and pulled out some scrolls, the parchment yellowed and faded. “This ancient power you possess is quite remarkable. After seeing it first hand, I was rather intrigued to say the least. After everything with Ranrok, I decided to keep things much closer to home this time around. Doing dirty work for goblins can leave a rather sour taste in the mouth, however, there are benefits to be reaped if you know where to look.”

He held up the scrolls and proceeded to open one with a flourish.

“These I acquired from a ruined dwelling in Feldcroft, sacking the place for Ranrok in his search for those repositories. It was quite the adventure at the time, the locals having that same annoying wholesomeness as those in Hogsmeade. They came to try and stop us, but as you know, I’m not one to let people stand in my way.”

MC narrowed her eyes. As much as she felt deep bitterness towards Anne Sallow, it was still a terrible thing that happened to her. “I have heard the stories. Even cursing children doesn’t seem to be too much of a bother for you, just so long as you get your way. Children should be seen and not heard, right?”

“Absolutely,” he said, the flash of teeth sinister as he grinned. He leant to spread the parchment on the table top, a frown appearing on his brow. “I had to teach a rather annoying brat a lesson when I got my hands on these, actually. Quite the feisty thing, babbling on about taking things that didn’t belong. She tried to stop me, even dared to raise her wand at me, but I put a stop to that.”

MC stared at him, trying to picture a healthy and furious Anne and realised it wasn’t too hard to imagine. Like Sebastian, she had fight and stubbornness. MC had to be careful with her words here. Revealing that she knew the child he had cursed would open up questions she couldn’t answer. Not just because of the pact she had made with Sebastian, but for their own safety within the gang. After years of earning Rookwood’s trust, she couldn’t blow Sebastian’s cover for being here.

“How does one teach a child a lesson exactly?” She asked, tilting her head as though curious. In all honesty, she was curious. If she knew what Rookwood had done, it could help Sebastian find a cure. “Did you kill the child?”

“Not exactly,” he said, a smug smirk twisting his lips as he glanced at her. “A rather handy curse of my own design. No instant death for that little brat. No, a slow and painful one for her. I wonder if she is still suffering? Perhaps she thinks twice before crossing someone she shouldn’t these days.”

He had the audacity to laugh as he pondered these thoughts and MC felt her stomach twist with nausea, wondering how a man could so casually cause such trauma towards a child when he had a daughter of his own. Anne had not learnt her lesson, though, happily throwing MC into Azkaban to serve her own selfishness. It would appear she had not learned a lesson despite her pain, and MC found she could not hold on to her sympathy for long, her own blood crackling with vengeful desire.

“No cure for such a curse, then?” She asked, her gaze dropping to the parchment on the table.

Rookwood gave her another sinister smile. “No cure. That’s the beauty of it. A curse of my own making, all those I have chosen to bear it will suffer until their death, or mine, and I have no plans to leave this mortal realm just yet.”

“You are quite the villain, aren’t you?” She said, and not in an impressed kind of way.

He laughed, loud and heartily. “Why, thank you.”

Of course, he took it as a compliment. Hardening her resolve even further, she gestured towards the parchment on the table. “So, what’s next in your twisted little games? I’m going to assume you need my help with it. Why else would you want me here?”

“Straight to the point. I like it,” he said, satisfaction gleaming in his smile. “This scroll belonged to Isadora Morganach. You and I both know the significance of this particular witch, so there will be no need for any pretending here. We also both know that Isadora spent a considerable amount of time researching your ancient magic, and this is what appeals to me. My family was involved with this power once, and I intend to continue that tradition. That’s where you come in, sweet one.”

MC knew this would be coming, Sebastian had warned her, and Rookwood had shown his hand all those years ago when he had snatched her from the street outside Ollivander’s. Swallowing tightly, MC leaned over to take a look at the parchment, recognising the inked hand of Isadora. It was, indeed, a part of her research, outlining the deposits of ancient magic that seemed to store themselves in locations scattered across the land. MC felt a sinking sensation as she read, anticipating where this was headed.

“You are interested in locating more deposits,” she said flatly, looking up at him.

So smug. The greed was sickening as he smiled at her. “You catch on quick, sweet one,” he nodded. “You’re the only one who can see these deposits, and once absorbed, they will increase your capabilities. Imagine the power you could possess, the deeds you could achieve.”

“I am fully aware of these deposits and what it could mean, Rookwood,” she said, shrugging. “I have come across them before around the Highlands. I fail to see how this benefits you, though.”

His eyes narrowed. “With your power, and my connections, imagine the team we could be. Greatness, MC. Who could stand against us?”

“Us? You want me to work for you?” She needed to hear him spell it out, let him spill his lies whilst he aimed to collect her like one of his relics.

“With me, MC. I wish for us to work together,” he said smoothly, placing his hand against his chest as though this was heartfelt. It sickened her stomach. “Together, we could build something truly remarkable. I would fulfil a birthright, standing beside you, a pillar of strength that would see you reach your full potential, and therefore, claiming your own birthright. Do you not wish to finish what Isadora began? Together, we could finish her research, delve even deeper into what this magic could mean, push the boundaries out and achieve greatness. Does that not sound like something that could fulfil you? Claim back what you deserve, MC. After the darkness of Azkaban, this could be your light.”

The silence of the tent seemed to press in upon her, heavy with the weight of his words that were spoken with only his own selfish intent in mind, and yet the temptation of what he implied was undeniably tangible. It almost brought tears to her eyes how he was cleverly appealing to what she truly did desire, her own redemption in a way, a path to walk that would finally give her the sense of belonging she craved.

The gut punch of it all came when faced with the darker agenda he had planned, to build her up only to tear it all away from her and claim it as his own. A truly twisted game that he had every intention of winning. But, he couldn’t win. She wouldn’t let him. She had to play the game harder and slicker than him, draw on everything she had learned in order to survive, and she wouldn’t do it alone.

Knowing that she had Sebastian standing at her side helped to keep the steel in her spine as she stared at Rookwood, even if Sebastian, too, had his own selfish reasons to help her, she knew he would have her back, just as he always had. There was also the knowledge that she had the British Auror Office in the wings, her very own Auror waiting for her in London who had already proved just how far he would go to help her. Despite feeling like she didn’t deserve it, she was grateful to have Leander in her life. She only hoped she could pay his loyalty back and pull this off.

“You paint a pretty picture, Rookwood,” she said, tilting her head, considering him. “I won’t deny the appeal of it. But, I’m not so foolish as to trust you. You have form, something you don’t even deny.”

He gave a nod, a pretty image of respect that didn’t do anything to make her think he meant it. His showmanship was a smoke screen she saw through well enough. “Is it not enough that you would hold all the power? As you so rightly said, you could end it all with one flick of your wand, and I would be useless against such a display. I merely intend to be at your side, a guiding hand if you will. My Ashwinders will be of assistance whilst you seek out these deposits and uncover your potential. Your guardian army, you might say.”

He was a dreamer, a man who aimed high, and believed he could get there by using any means necessary. Not to take anything away from his cunning, and his clear skill at leading people, but MC suspected there was a weakness in there to press on. His greed and desire for greatness could be his undoing, his ego something to be stroked. Her barriers were firmly in place, but her mouth smiled at him as she touched her hand to Isadora’s research paper.

“Then I guess I have some reading to do,” she said, keeping her tone carefully neutral. “I don’t see the harm in seeing where this could lead. I might have some requests, though.”

“What do you need?” He asked, holding out his arms as though he could grant her any wish.

“If we are going to hunt down these deposits, then Sallow comes with me. He aided me as a girl, we work well together, and he has experience in helping me with my magic.”

“Is that so?” Rookwood’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you think he can be trusted with this?”

She summoned every scrap of determination she could muster as she made her voice cold and seemingly uncaring, whilst her blood burned to utter such words. “He knows if he betrays me I could wipe him from existence, just as I did his uncle. He will help me. He is almost as enamoured by my magic as you are, he won’t be able to resist it.”

Rookwood’s look was calculating as he studied her, his fingers stroking at his beard. “Imagine how different life could have been if you had taken this opportunity when I had offered it to you outside Ollivander’s that day, the deaths that could have been avoided, a prison sentence not served, the greatness you could have achieved already.”

His words hit like blows to the gut, and she fought the urge to cower against the breathtaking twist of grief that slammed into her chest as she thought of Professor Fig fading in her arms under the school. Guilt was cold and cruel, no forgiveness great enough to appease the horror of that moment, something she struggled with day by day. She fixed her gaze on the parchment, the words blurring through the haze that descended over her eyes as she fought to keep control of her emotions. The wounded dark of her heart threatened to spill forth, but she choked it back, blinking furiously as she focused on each breath, in and out, clinging to calm.

Her choices had been her own, and she had tried to avoid the temptation of darkness, but the fear that a piece of it lingered within scraped tempting claws through her soul. It whispered to her, weaving the spell of temptation and calling her home. It was in her blood. It was her birthright, was it not?

No. There was always a choice. Ominis was her proof of that and she held it tight, close to her chest. She had the power to make her own choices.

Stiffening her spine, she turned hard eyes towards Rookwood. “I guess it all comes down to timing. That, or, everything happens precisely when it means to, regardless of how dark things may be.”

“You believe in fate?”

“We live in a world of magic,” she said, lifting her eyebrows at him. “I’ve learned to accept that anything is possible. Now, let’s see if we can’t find a starting point for our search, shall we?”

….*….

The night held a chill that seeped into your bones, the camp mostly quiet, guards posted at the borders keeping watch for any sign of trouble as the rest of the Ashwinders sought rest or sustenance. MC sat huddled on her straw pallet, a cloak wrapped around her despite the casting of a warming charm, her tent companion snoring loudly beside her. Surrounded by people, the loneliness held a stealthy position at her shoulder, the weariness of having to mask her truth bearing down upon her.

Agreeing to walk willingly into Rookwood’s trap had set a course she needed to hold despite every instinct telling her to run. It was a dangerous game, but it held promise. Rookwood had been right about one thing. Her truth, her power, it was all connected to Isadora, and any evidence gathered was another step towards discovering who she was. MC had to snatch every opportunity that came her way, even if that meant dancing with the devil for a time.

Feeling the pinch of the lonesome darkness, she retrieved her secret parchment and laid it flat against a book, tapping her wand to the blank paper but revealing no new words. Swallowing down the disappointment, she felt that warmth she had shared with Leander slipping further into the shadows. His contact had been brief and polite for the last few days, words seemingly professional and distant, a mere touching base that covered her required check in with Aurors and nothing more. The wrench of missing him cut a fresh scar in that soft part of her she hid away, and even though it was for the best, she couldn’t help but grieve for what she was allowing to slip through her fingers. She, too, had been withdrawing away from him, and it had proved harder than she had expected.

The urge to see him swelled to the point that she was reaching for her quill, summoning the words to send off to him, a craving to see the warmth of his honey brown eyes making her bite her lip as she began to write. Whilst keeping her words as professional as he had set the tone for, she suggested a face to face report, an opportunity to look upon him once more before setting off in search of ancient magic deposits. Tapping her wand to the page, she watched the ink fade and vanish, knowing he was unlikely to see it until tomorrow. She imagined him safe and sleeping in his bed at his flat, drawing comfort from the image, a soft smile curving her lips. She couldn’t help but cling to the life line he had thrown her way after pulling her out of the frigid dark.

Putting her quill and parchment away, MC eyed the lumpy pillow and shifted on her hard mattress, missing the soft warmth of Leander’s bed. Perhaps it was a step up from the stone ledge of prison, but the snoring beast of her companion took away the peace and privacy, and she doubted sleep would deign to visit her tonight. Sighing, she clambered up and out of the tent, pulling her cloak around herself as she stepped out under a star sprinkled sky. Looking up she breathed in the crisp night air, filling her lungs with mountain breeze, camp fires and woodland. The promise of freedom lingered in that scent, but she was just as chained as ever, bound to a fate that could have been laid out before she had even entered this world.

Putting one foot in front of the other, she focused on the promise of being able to make her own choices, lost in her own head as she came across a dark figure in the shadows. Halting immediately, her hand hovering near her wand holster, she remained poised as Rosier stepped towards her. He was so very handsome, his smile designed to lure in unsuspecting souls for sure. She relaxed her hand, but left it hanging loose near her thigh, nodding in greeting.

“If it isn’t our chosen one,” he said softly. “Where are you slipping off to at this time of night?”

“The usual,” she shrugged. “Always assume I’m up to no good, it avoids disappointment.”

He chuckled and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Want some company whilst you raise mischief and mayhem?”

“A tempting offer, but one I must decline,” she said, pouting her lips in an image of regret.

“Of course,” he smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets and nodding towards a tent at the other end of camp. “He’s alone in there. I will be gone for a few hours. Make the most of it, darling. Go make mischief.”

Pulling her gaze from the tent Rosier shared with Sebastian, MC stared at him, the knowing glint in his eyes making her stiffen slightly. “Make the most of what, may I ask?”

He smirked and moved to step away. “When eyes speak as yours do, there is no need for words. Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. Sebastian is a good man, one of the best in this shit hole. He has been good to me. I won’t betray him.”

MC stared at him, keeping her silence as she shivered under her cloak. What did her eyes reveal? Had her mask slipped enough for others to see her truth, too? Turning her gaze back to Sebastian’s tent, the danger that hung over their heads felt like strings pulling them in every direction with no escape. So much for that freedom.

Rosier paused, turning back to her, his hand touching lightly to her elbow and making her face him once more. “Oh, and be careful,” he murmured in a low tone. “Luella. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating her. Don’t turn your back for a moment. Understand?”

MC nodded, her throat tightening as he brushed the pad of his thumb across her arm, that alluring smile soft on his face as he turned and walked away from her, vanishing into the night as though he had never even been there at all.

Of course, her feet led her to Sebastian’s tent, no matter how many times she told herself that she needed more time, that he needed to prove that he was worth the wait, she returned to him regardless. Lingering at the entrance, she debated the wisdom of going inside. Ever since they had slept in the cottage at Feldcroft, she had kept a reasonable distance between them, offering up the illusion that they were acquainted before the other camp dwellers and nothing more, whilst in reality their blood sung for each other in a way only they could understand. It led her here to his presence, answering a call that appeared primal and basic in its instincts.

Lifting the flap of the tent, MC stepped inside, the interior lit with a single lamp. Two bunks on either side, a chest, and a battered wash stand provided minimal comfort. It was basic and threadbare, but she could feel the warmth of magic lending it a far cosier feel than appearances would suggest. Sprawled on the far bunk, his nose in a book, Sebastian appeared relaxed, his hair a tumbled mess and his shirt open at his throat. Jacket and waistcoat were discarded, and an empty bottle of butterbeer sat on the floor by a stack of books. He glanced up as she entered, sitting up immediately at the sight of her, snapping the book shut with a warm smile.

Oh, how that smile seemed to chase the loneliness that persisted at her shoulder, pushing back the shadows that reached with long arms in their efforts to conceal her.

“Am I disturbing you?” She asked softly, glancing over her shoulder to ensure the tent flap was closed behind her. “I checked nobody was nearby before entering.”

“You’re always welcome,” he said, reaching for his wand. He cast a silencing charm, warding the tent to avoid any eavesdropping before beckoning to her. “Come in, take a seat.”

He patted the bed bunk, smoothing the rumpled blanket as he shifted to make room for her. MC unclipped her cloak, pulling it free from her shoulders as she moved to sit. His eyes never left her as she got comfortable, a softness lingering around his mouth. It wasn’t the look of a violent Ashwinder, just the boy she had once known.

“What were you reading?” She asked, gesturing towards the book he had abandoned.

“Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table,” he said, picking it up and handing it to her. “I wanted to refresh my memory on what Muggles had written about Merlin. They do love to embellish their legends. Their ideas about magic are rather amusing compared to the real thing, however, some of their words hit a little too close to home sometimes.”

MC smoothed her fingers over the book cover, absently following the embossed title. “What prompted the idea to read about Merlin?”

“You, of course,” he smiled. “Or rather, your ancient magic. Do you remember helping that witch, Nora Treadwood? She published her research on Merlin and I read a copy recently, intrigued by the possibility that Merlin could have been a host of ancient magic. Those trials we completed in the Highlands seemed to come naturally to you. I thought it might be worth reading up on it all.”

She couldn’t stop her smile as she looked at him. It hadn’t been a lie to request his presence at her side in order to help her seek out ancient magic deposits. His enquiring mind and ability to maintain vast amounts of knowledge were invaluable. It came easy to admire him for it, and she knew he was wasted here in this camp of criminals. He should be working for the Ministry, or teaching as a Professor somewhere, not thieving and committing acts of brutality.

“Did you learn anything interesting?” She asked, flipping the book open to a rather colourful illustration that caught her eye.

Sebastian leaned closer, peering down at the open pages. “The character Morgana is of particular interest I think. She is presented as an apprentice to Merlin, and then a villain. Some have suggested she was a lover, perhaps, but she is always cunning and powerful. I’d bet a few galleons that she was a Slytherin.”

Their eyes met, that inexplicable tension crackling between them. “Maybe she was. Perhaps she slept in the same dormitory as me. It’s strange to think of it.”

MC looked down at the artwork in the book, the robed drawing of Morgana seemed oddly familiar and she couldn’t place why. She had not seen this book before, she was sure. When she had read the legends of King Arthur, her copy had been a rather battered version she had smuggled into the orphanage, and she didn’t recall any artwork inside.

“Not that strange,” Sebastian murmured, looking thoughtful. “Some of the greatest witches and wizards of our world walked the halls of Hogwarts. What I would give to be able to sneak into the restricted section of the library one more time. I bet there would be something down there about her worth reading, something hidden from the muggle world.”

MC bit her lip, her finger tracing the artwork of the legend herself in the book. Her next words could potentially start something she might regret, breach a trust that had been placed upon her in order to help her, but it could also further her quest for more information. Looking at Sebastian now, the temptation to utilise that brilliant brain of his was so strong, that she was speaking before she could change her mind.

“What if I told you that I could do one better than the library at Hogwarts?” She said, lifting her eyebrows and fighting back a smile at the spark of interest in his gaze. “What if I told you that I had someone doing a little digging in the Ministry archives on my behalf? I could whisper Morgana’s name in his ear and see what turns up?”

“Who would do that for you? Not Prewett, surely?”

“No, not Leander,” she shook her head. “But, I’m not going to name who it is and risk him being caught out. He is doing me a huge favour gathering information at the risk of his own neck. I’m not going to unleash the chaos that is Sebastian Sallow on to him for his trouble.”

“I am not chaos,” Sebastian scowled, puffing out his chest indignantly.

She smothered a chuckle, recalling the similar jest Ominis had made at their last meeting, and nudged her shoulder into him. “I beg to differ.”

His lips twitched and he huffed with amusement, his fingers gently encircling her wrist, his thumb tracing a slow circle over her pulse point. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered. His brown eyes lifted to meet her gaze, the warmth in them seemingly boundless and undeniably alluring. “I’ve missed you.”

Her chest swelled with an ache so fierce she had to catch her breath for a moment, staring into his eyes and knowing without doubt that she had missed him too, missed these chats and picking each other's minds about things. Such simplicity, but it meant so much.

“You know, it was moments like this that kept me sane in that place,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “When the cold and dark felt like it might swallow me whole, I would allow myself to think about times we had spent together, just doing silly things like studying, or walking around the Black Lake at the weekends. Thinking of you chased back the darkness for a moment, but then I would have to suppress all thought of you, hide you away in my most secret, put away heart so that the Dementors couldn’t steal all trace of you from my mind. They were drawn to any happy thought, and I think I might have died if they had taken you from me.”

Fighting back her own tears, it made her stomach twist to see his eyes burn with his own sadness, the devastated look on his face painful to witness. He cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer so that their foreheads touched. “I can never repay the debt that I owe you,” he said, his voice pained. “You should never have been sent to Azkaban in the first place, and I will never forgive myself for it. Hearing what you had to endure in there…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to finish his sentence, his grip on her neck tightening. “I’m so sorry.”

They were words she needed to hear, and she did believe him. She had seen him at his most vulnerable, held him at his lowest points, and she did not imagine for one moment that this was anything but genuine regret. It might not make up for what she had lost, or take away any of the horror that she had suffered, but it did ease some of the ache in her chest to hear him say it. Lifting a hand to his cheek, she soothed him with a gentle caress, trying to show him that she appreciated what he was saying to her because words would not come past the tightness in her throat.

He opened his eyes, his head still leaning against her as he stared, gaining some control over his emotions. “I thought about what you said,” he began, his fingers trailing down her neck and back up again. “You said the pact that we made held you just as captive as your cell did, and you were right. I never intended to trap you with it. I just wanted us to never feel lonely again, to always know that we had each other no matter what. I hate that it only managed to keep us apart for so long, trapped by its bond, you were forced to remain in darkness or die. That’s not what I wanted, not at all.”

“I was angry when I said that,” she said, stroking back his hair. “Yes, I was bound by it, but I also clung to that bond whilst I was in there. It was my only link to the outside world. Knowing we were bonded meant that I wouldn’t be forgotten, although I did used to wonder if you had moved on with your life without me. I could only hope that you would be waiting on the day of my release. It’s what made finding out about Luella so gut wrenching.”

“I never moved on,” he said vehemently, holding her head so that she was angled perfectly to look at him, his eyes ablaze with emotion. “I could never move on. I was always waiting for you to come back to me. I held on to that bond, too.”

He shifted, digging into his pocket to pull out the amulet, the delicate silver charm encasing the blood red stone of their spell. He held it up between them, the lamp light catching the stone and making it shimmer to life.

“I would look at this every night, terrified that I would forget your face,” he said, smoothing his thumb over the stone. “This means something, MC. It will always mean something. I am yours, and you are mine.”

Slowly, MC touched her fingers to the stone, remembering vividly the way their blood had entwined and solidified to create it in the flickering candlelight of the Undercroft. Too young for marriage, they had turned to darker magic to pledge themselves to each other. Their youth had perhaps impacted on their choice of words, rendering them so bound to each other that it had trapped them. In another way, they had perhaps not linked themselves deep enough. Despite this pact, they had both taken another lover, given themselves to someone else when that shouldn’t have been possible. When you’re young, you don’t even consider the consequences, or anticipate extreme circumstances, you just rush headlong in with passion and the strength of will that comes with youth.

“I am yours, and you are mine,” she repeated softly, testing the feel of those words on her tongue.

A hopeful smile curved Sebastian’s mouth as their fingers touched around the stone. “Turn around,” he said softly. She gave him a curious frown, but he merely let his smile widen as he motioned with a finger for her to do as he asked, holding up the amulet.

She shifted on the bed, turning so that she had her back to him. Gently he gathered up her hair, and she helped him hold it up, shivering as he leant around her. His breath was warm as it fanned across her neck, his fingers fiddling with the amulet as he arranged it so that it lay over her collar bone. Closing her eyes, she felt the delicate brush of his fingers as he fastened the silver chain that held it, a soft sigh leaving her mouth as she felt the warmth of his lips at the back of her neck in a lingering kiss.

“I’ve been the sole guardian of our pact for too long,” he said, his mouth so dangerously close to her tingling flesh. “It’s your turn to take care of it now. Wear it, and remember how much you mean to me. Feel it against your skin, a reminder and a promise.”

“What kind of promise?” She asked, tilting her head as she held the amulet in her hand.

“My promise to you that I will never stop fighting for you,” he said, resting his face against the back of her neck, his breath hot and his lips teasing as he spoke. “You said you needed time, and you shall have it, but I will be here waiting for you. It will always be you, MC. Always.”

Her heart seemed to skip a beat, thudding hard against her ribs and stealing her breath. Turning to him, she met with his addictive gaze and he was unflinching, constant and set on his course. She let the amulet rest against her chest and his gaze dropped to it, his finger gently curling under the slender chain and dragging along the sensitive skin of her collar bone, making her breath catch in her throat.

“It looks good on you,” he whispered, a satisfied smile curving his lips.

“Thank you,” she murmured, still touching the amulet, the blood red stone warm under her fingertips. All too aware of how dangerously close they were, the scene intimate and loaded with tension, she wondered if perhaps it was too much, too soon. “It’s late. I should get back to my own tent, I suppose. You can get back to your reading.”

“Stay,” he said, a finger caressing under her chin. “You can make yourself comfortable while I read, just like we used to years ago. No pressure, no expectation. Just you and me.”

Once again, she found herself unable to say no, reluctant to return to that cold, uncomfortable tent and her snoring companion. With him settled back with his book, she curled up beside him, their bodies snuggled close on the narrow bunk, her head on his chest where the steady rhythm of his heart both soothed and comforted so close to her ear. He was warm and solid, his arm naturally draping about her waist as he began to read.

Tomorrow loomed, and all the tomorrows that would come after, but for now she felt safe, the tension gradually easing from her chest as she lay there. They had lain together like this so many times, quite content in each other’s silence, and it was perhaps no surprise how easily they had resumed this closeness. Nothing was ever that simple, though, not really. But, she would take it, her hand curling into the fabric of his shirt as her eyelids grew heavy. Sleep had come to claim her after all, her mind embracing the darkness whilst she lay safe in the arms of a guardian.

Leander

Pale sunlight filtered through the kitchen window and illuminated the parchment placed neatly on the table top. Delicate swirls of steam curled upwards from a freshly brewed tea, and the distant crash of Atlantic ocean waves stole the silence of the morning. Leander had arrived at Shell Cottage early, checking the property and taking the time to stroll the coast path to breathe in the clearer air. It was always good to escape the oppressive smog of London and refresh one's head. Everything here was as it should be, and yet the sense that things were all out of kilter clung annoyingly along his nerves.

There was a flutter of anticipation in his tummy as Leander allowed his gaze to lift once again to the ticking clock on the mantel. It kept good time, and mere minutes had passed since he had last checked, but the seconds appeared to drag on endlessly as he waited. It had been a few days since MC had left to seek out the Ashwinders, and whilst he had tortured himself with possible scenarios of what she could be doing in her absence, the bottom line remained the same. He missed her.

In the short time they had spent in each other’s company, she had embedded herself so thoroughly into his life that it seemed a struggle to traverse the path of his days without her. No soft humming from the other room, the floral scent of her perfume was fading from his flat, and his bed had never felt so large and empty. There couldn’t be a clean break from her either, not unless he handed her case over to another Auror, and there was no chance of him wanting to do such a thing. It had become personal, no matter how many times he told himself that it couldn’t be. He had to continue, and the new information that Larson had managed to pull up were missing pieces in the history of what made MC such a unique witch.

His long, freckled fingers touched to the file on the table beside him, handed to him only yesterday by Andrew. He had kept it tucked safely in his robe away from prying eyes. It exhausted him trying to be this double agent, working diligently to assist his fellow Aurors on the team, and yet keep secrets from them to help MC. Whilst dreams as a boy of thrilling adventures had seemed like the ideal way to live, actually having to experience such things was another matter entirely.

But, would he stop?

Absolutely not. There was more to this, he could feel it. His instincts told him not to give up. Not on MC, and not on the case.

The only other snag in the works was his enthusiastic partner, Ivy Montgomery. The new recruit had been accompanying him on all investigative outings, her sharp eye and quick thinking proving to be quite the asset. But, this meant that she would be astute enough to pick up on any details concerning MC should she be given the chance to get too close. Details that were far beyond the necessary realms of the case. Not only that, but after McKinnon’s betrayal, the wariness to trust again lingered.

Touching his fingers to his tie, he straightened it and swallowed, remembering how awkwardly he had to rebuff Montgomery's eager anticipation when she realised he would be meeting with MC today. She had looked up at him, her bright eyes keen, her cheeks pink from hurrying to catch up with him as he had left the office last night. It was out of the question to bring her to Shell Cottage, and he had put her off the meeting, suggesting she attend the next one instead. Her deflation had made him want to squirm, and he had sent her off to enquire after a lead on the missing Boleyn necklace today. A chance for her to work on something alone to appease the denial of meeting MC face to face.

He could understand the fascination, of course, the lure of the exceptional, the chance to sink her teeth into the heart of this case as a newly fledged Auror. Leander had taken the responsibility of MC’s covert role into his hands, and now felt a reluctance to let anyone else interfere. The mantra that this had nothing to do with the emotional attachment he felt towards MC seemed like a waste of energy, and yet he still foolishly told himself that it was the case.

Had he not told MC that this was more than just a job? They had been his exact words. He carried the secret parchment they shared messages on within his pocket, and checked it regularly for any word from her. He was just being careful, of course. Her mission was a dangerous one, placing herself in the company of some of the most notorious people in the country. It would be remiss of him to not be vigilant. It was his responsibility to ensure her safety, and know of her whereabouts after all. These were the words he comforted himself with when he lay awake at night thinking about the softness of her lips, the way her eyes darkened in the candlelight…

Tapping fingers nervously on the table top, his leg bouncing under the table, he tried not to let his anxiousness take over. Fighting back his affections for her, he had tried to maintain a professional manner, his written communications with MC presented as polite and focused on the Ashwinders. Behind that, he ached to hear her voice, have her close, despite knowing it was futile to dwell on any dreams of more. It meant he would likely say something foolish, and the little time he had with MC couldn't be wasted on such things.

Even so, when the crack of Apparation sounded from the living room, he was on his feet in an instant, the chair scraping back across the floor as he hurried towards the door. She turned towards him, her face pale and tired, her hair braided and her clothing dark. In one piece, and with no sign of injury, he felt some of the tension ease from his muscles.

“Hello, Lee,” she smiled, her eyes captivating in the light flooding through the window.

Where was his professionalism now? What use were his manners? Her smile, her warm gaze, her hands reaching out towards him, and he was across that room in a few strides. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close until he could feel every inch of her, the scent of clear air, wood smoke, and something else he couldn’t quite place, filling his nose.

“MC. It is a relief to see you safe,” he said, his hand finding its way to cup the back of her neck. “How has it been, really? Are they treating you as well as we can hope?”

“I am alright,” she replied, giving him a most welcome squeeze before slowly withdrawing. She placed her hands on his arms as she looked up at him. Such bravery she held firm on her face, that stoic way she had of keeping everything else tucked away. “The time spent within Ashwinder territory is useful despite the company I must keep. We knew it wouldn't be luxury, but I can manage. You should not worry about me.”

“I would find it easier to stop breathing, I am sure,” he said, his eyes drinking in the sight of her knowing time was short.

“I would rather you remained breathing,” she said softly, her hands gripping his arm. A shadow passed across her pale face. “I don't ever wish to place you in danger. You must know that. It is regrettable that Sebastian knows that I lay with you, but when confronted with him, I am afraid that feelings and tempers got the better of us.”

“You fought with him over us?” Leander felt his chest tighten, trying to imagine how that would play out. Sebastian would not have taken that news well.

She glanced down at her left hand, fingertips touching her scar. How he detested that mark on her skin. “In a way, yes,” she said, making a fist. “Let's just say it was messy and ugly, but done now.”

“What does that mean?” He frowned.

Her face became resolute, her chin lifting in that stubborn way of hers. “In order to move forward, to get this done, I need to face the reality that my fate and Sebastian’s are tangled up in ways I cannot begin to explain. I have to find peace with it, or lose my mind trying to fight it. It's complicated, but however things play out, I am bound to him, and him to me.”

Leander dropped his gaze, that tight, sickening feeling beginning to swirl in his stomach as her words sunk in. It would always be Sebastian. No matter what.

“But, I will not allow him to hurt you,” she said, her countenance softening as she touched a hand to his cheek. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and found that warmth he had always craved from her. “He is angry, and jealous, but if he dares to cast at you, I will take whatever punishment the bond will throw at me to stop him.”

”There is no need for you to do that. Not for me. I can look after myself. I have been fighting against Sebastian for years.”

”I know,” she said, sighing. She shook her head, and winced. “I fear I may have made things worse between you both.”

“It was mutual consent, MC. It took the both of us to become intimate, and on more than one occasion,” he reminded her, his mouth curving in remembrance. His fingers had found their way to her jaw, caressing upwards to the softness of her cheek. “Don’t regret it, for I could never. Not with you, no matter the consequence.”

”Lee,” she whispered, her eyes turning glassy. She shook her head, her face shadowed as she caught hold of his wrist. He could see it in her eyes, she was withdrawing from the affection, throwing up her barriers. “You shouldn’t be saying such things.”

”Do you regret it?” His brow creased, that cold anxiousness clinging to him. Perhaps he was pushing her too hard, and perhaps he shouldn’t be saying such things, but his mouth always had a habit of speaking before thinking.

“No,” she replied immediately, shaking her head. Her gaze was resolute. “I don’t regret it.”

He waited, sensing the inevitable ‘but’ hanging between them. The haunted look she gave him ripped his heart a little, and he knew it would tear further with words she would speak. “I know,” he nodded sadly. His thumb ghosted her jaw, desperately trying to pretend to himself that this didn’t hurt. “It was never intended to be forever.”

Her lips parted as though to speak, but he couldn’t bring himself to hear the words. “No, don’t say it,” he begged. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to those pretty lips, allowing himself the luxury of lingering there, filled with the familiar, aching longing, before withdrawing.

“Lee, I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright,” he said, cutting off her plea by touching his fingers to her mouth. He managed a smile as he stepped back away from her, that little tear in his chest pulling sharply at the sadness in her eyes. It would never be alright.

“Come, I’ve made a pot of tea. I’m sure there is time for a cup as we talk. You can tell me about your meeting with Rookwood, and I have some information from Andrew about ancient magic. It probably throws up more questions than answers, but perhaps it will mean something to you.”

Sitting at the kitchen table, they turned the conversation towards the Ashwinders. He noticed her careful avoidance of mentioning Sebastian too often, but his shadow loomed over it all nonetheless. Hearing the plan to uncover deposits of ancient magic, Leander felt his concerns crowding in, his gaze taking in her small frame. She was stronger than she looked, but absorbing more power only for Rookwood to try and take it made him uneasy.

“This is a trap, MC,” he said, resisting the urge to place his hand over hers. “There are so many things that could go wrong with this plan.”

“It’s the best path we have right now,” she shrugged. “Plus, I really could learn more. If Rookwood has more of Isadora’s research, then I need to get my hands on it. Sebastian says that Rookwood is a collector, and he has stores of valuable artefacts and books. If I can discover where he hides this stuff, it would be like discovering a gold mine.”

“You truly believe Rookwood will ever let you get that close?” He lifted an intrigued eyebrow.

She smiled. “I don’t really have much of a choice but to believe it. He is greedy, and he covets what I am. I let him think he can collect me, take what I want, and then we break him.”

Her coldness sent a shiver down his spine. Her gaze turned towards the window, her jaw tightening as the shadow of her thoughts passed through her eyes. It still gave him pause to think of the horror she could be capable of, but he refused to accept that the hardness was all she could be. The Auror Office and the Daily Prophet painted her in such a cruel light, but he clung to his faith in that soft part of her she kept so carefully hidden away. He had seen it, he had slept beside it, had felt the flow of what her heart could offer. He just wished she would open herself up to what life could give her. What he could give her.

“Here, maybe this will help in your quest for answers.” He slid Andrew’s file towards her. “The Ministry archives are patchy when it comes to ancient magic. It would seem they either don't understand it fully, or they are covering a lot of it up. Andrew suspects that the Department of Mysteries has a hand in this, but he has no access to their files, and they would definitely refuse permission to look. Unspeakables are a unique breed. Professor Hecat being a prime example.”

Leander couldn’t help the slight frown that creased his brow. Whilst Hecate was a capable and forthright tutor, he always thought she had a particular dislike for him.

“I quite liked Professor Hecate,” MC said, her smile turning wistful for a moment, and chasing away that cold mask. “A conversation with her usually proved rather interesting.”

“Teacher’s pet,” he grumbled, taking a sip of his tea.

MC smirked and picked up the file. “Thank Andrew for me, I know he takes risks to find this information,” she said. “If he hasn’t already, suggest that he look into Merlin regarding ancient magic. He had an apprentice named Morgana who might prove fruitful, too.”

Leander lifted his brows with interest. “Like in the tales of King Arthur? What made you think of that?”

A slight flush of pink coloured her cheeks, and her eyes dipped away. “Actually, it was Sebastian who brought it up.”

“Of course it was.” His muttered words sounded bitter to his own ears. Getting to his feet, he collected their cups and placed them in the old sink, pulling out his wand to set them to wash. His jealousy threatened to overspill, and so resorting back to cool professionalism seemed the best option in order to maintain some control. “So, when do you want to make the next report? Will you manage to travel by Apparating, or would you prefer Floo points?”

He heard her get to her feet, but kept his back to the room, staring out towards the wide expanse of ocean through the window above the sink. If he looked at her he might crumble again, and that would only prolong the ache that lay heavy in his chest. He had to remain in control. He had to let it go.

“I will remain in constant touch with the parchment,” she said, her footsteps coming closer across the flagstone floor. “I know the terms stated a daily meeting, and I can manage it if you so wish, but I don’t want to make Rookwood suspicious should he be watching me. He already suspects something after I requested that Seb come along to help me search for deposits. He helped me back in our school days, and he has a wealth of knowledge I can make use of. Could we meet in a few days?”

He nodded, his face tight knowing that Sebastian would be a constant at her side. “Of course. Just send word via the parchment when you are ready, and I will meet you. Oh, and I should mention, it’s likely I won’t be alone. I have a new Auror with me for a while. She took McKinnon’s position, and I am showing her the ropes as they say.”

“She? What’s her name?” Her tone was sharper, almost as though she disapproved.

Leander turned from the sink, moving the now clean cups to the draining board, pondering that thought. “Auror Montgomery. She is astute and bright, so I suggest we keep things strictly professional in her presence. I would rather she didn’t pick up on any over familiarity between us.”

The coolness of his words felt stiff and awkward on his lips. He hated this sense of detachment. It was a breaking, a chasm opening up between them, but his fingers couldn’t bear to loosen their grip. Unable to fully look at her, he moved back towards the table to gather up his notes and straighten his chair, careful to avoid brushing past her where she stood. His foot bumped the table leg clumsily, and he dropped a piece of parchment in his anxiousness, eager to tidy before leaving.

“If you are that concerned, why can’t we continue to meet alone?” She asked.

His fingers clenched around the handle of the tea pot, his gaze remaining averted as he turned to place it near the stove. He could feel the burn on his cheeks and knew he must appear flushed. “I’m not sure if that will be appropriate moving forward,” he said, swallowing hard. “You did warn me not to get too close, MC. That will be easier if we maintain a professional stance on things.”

“I really am sorry you know,” she said, her voice low and laced with regret. “I meant it when I said that I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He couldn’t stand the idea of her pitying him, his teeth clenching at the bitter urge to cry. He really was a pathetic fool. Taking a steadying breath, he blinked a few times.

“Like you said. You are bound to things in ways you can't explain,” he said, his words tight and weighed down with the weight of his loss. He looked at her at last. “I just hope he is worth this unfailing loyalty you hold for him, MC.”

She stared, her eyes wary as he turned to fully face her, stepping closer so that she needed to look up at him. The unspoken shadow of Sebastian cast over them constantly, and speaking of it was always risky. She bore the weight of Sallow as much as she bore the weight of her own trauma, and all the time that she did, there would never be room for anything else. It consumed, darkened any light he tried to bathe her in, and as much as he wanted her to accept it, she constantly held him at bay. He would have to be the one to break this thread that held them, but he didn’t have confidence in his ability to do it. How could he? His heart had other plans.

“You should know, that if you were to allow it, I would love you until the very end of existence,” he continued, his throat raw with the truth of it. “I would give you everything within my power to make you smile. I got you out of that dark cell where you were fading away. I couldn't bear seeing you in there, trapped in that gods forsaken place for something you didn't even do.”

Her face paled, her eyes darkening with a cold fear. She shook her head, and even took a step back. “What are you talking about?”

“Don't say anything that's going to hurt you,” he said, shaking his head and grabbing her left wrist. He held up her hand, that vivid red slash on her palm so obnoxious against the paleness of her flesh. “Don't say a damned word to defend him, but I know, MC. The fear on your face at spilling the truth in that interrogation spoke louder than anything you could have said to me. This binding blood pact you made to him, it just sticks in my throat how much you defend Sebastian when he did absolutely nothing for you in return. Do you want to know what I think? I think he killed his own uncle, not you. Sallow always was a self-serving prick, as was his sister, and you would rather run back to him than take a chance to be happy for yourself.”

“Stop it,” she gasped, attempting to pull her arm free from his grip. She had gone deathly pale, the ghosts of her secrets stark in her eyes. It pained him to see it, but it ripped him up inside to know she would never love him like she loved him. “You don't understand.”

“Oh, I think I do, MC,” he said, letting her wrist go. “I just hope you know what you're doing.”

“You make it sound so black and white, but it’s not,” she insisted, backing up away from him. The paleness of her face contrasted against the darkness that lingered in her eyes. It made him think of dark angels, tragic souls doomed to sorrow, and he immediately regretted saying anything. Her lips trembled, but he watched her stiffen, slamming up those walls she hid behind. “You think it’s easy, a simple matter of choosing between you and him. You think you want me in your life, but trust me, that is the last thing I would wish for you. I would destroy it. I would bring darkness down upon your head, and then you would end up hating me. I couldn’t bear it. Don’t ask me to risk it. I can’t…”

“I could never hate you,” he denied, clenching his hands in frustration.

She held up her hands, shaking her head, still backing up. “It would be easier if you did,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “Perhaps you are right. We need to take a step back.”

In defiance of her words and his own insistence that they should do just that, Leander took a step towards her. The thread was stretched to breaking point, she was before him, but it felt like she was slipping away, an apparition that would dissipate into the air and leave him with nothing.

“Where will you go?” He felt the bite of his fingernails against his palms as he clung to the last shred of his self control.

“Scotland first,” she replied. “After that, I am not sure, but I will send you updates. I won’t let you down.”

“Be safe,” he said softly.

The look she gave him tore the crack in his heart until he thought he wouldn’t be able to draw another breath. Her eyes had always held this magical power that hit levels high above anything he had ever known. Just to lock gazes with her could render him speechless, in awe of her, his whole soul belonging to the myriad of flecks and shadows that shone in those blue orbs. Perhaps she had bewitched him, and for a short time, he had held her. She had almost been his.

How was he supposed to let that go?

As she vanished with the sharp crack of her magic, he had thought perhaps there had been a tear escaping from her eye, but he couldn’t be sure. He would likely never know. She was gone, and he stood where he had first kissed her, realising it would likely be the last, too. The kitchen was now empty. The roar of the Atlantic still sounded in the background, timeless and relentless, whilst he was left with broken dreams and a torn hole in his chest.

Sebastian

The tension in his shoulders and arms felt like taut ropes pulled to their utmost, his chest rising and falling with each strained breath, as though a weight pressed down upon him. In his mind, his thoughts spun on a carousel of torture, imagining Prewett laying a hand upon her. The very idea of them being alone together made his blood burn with tumultuous, jealous fury.

In what world could he have ever imagined that MC would feel something for that irritating Gryffindor. Denying it was pointless. He had seen it in her eyes when she spoke of him. She had some kind of affection for Prewett, and it was proven further by her adamant refusal to let him go to the meeting with her. She knew he would annihilate him with a few handy hexes for daring to put his hands on her.

Pacing the space inside his tent appeared to not ease any of his tension, and his hand dipped into his pocket, a moment of panic seizing him as his fingers grasped empty fabric. His gaze darted to his bunk, and his mouth dared curve into a slight smile as he remembered last night. The amulet now hung about her neck, placed there by his own hands. The longing that pierced him as he thought about how she had lay down with him, her body relaxing into sleep against his frame as he had continued to read. So many nights he had ached to do just that, and now she had been beside him twice. There had to be many more times like that, the idea of spending another night apart from her unthinkable now that she was here. He rubbed absently against the scar on his palm, and turned to pace once more, ruffling the unruly strands of his hair and waiting for her return.

The tent flap rustled and Rosier appeared, a smug smirk on his lips as he wandered towards his bunk and sat. “I thought you and your little witch might have still been cosied up together in here,” he said, his eyes roaming over Sebastian’s rumpled bedding. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, because he didn’t know where MC had gone to meet with Prewett.

“Maybe she is off somewhere stewing over this,” Rosier smirked, holding up a copy of the Daily Prophet that he’d had tucked under his arm. He waved it under Sebastian’s nose. “We ought to be careful, mate. She isn’t long out of Azkaban, and I wouldn’t put it past Aurors to have eyes on her.”

Sebastian felt the blood freeze in his veins, and he snatched the newspaper from Rosier’s grip, unfolding it to look down at the front page. A moving photograph of MC with her prisoner number board stared up at him, her young face haunted and broken. Pushing down the memory of those days when she had been taken from him, Sebastian scanned the article written about her release, and how she could be a potential danger roaming the country with all that power at her fingertips. Of course, the Ministry have made their assurances that everything is under control, and they wouldn’t have allowed her to be free if they thought her an immediate danger, however, the reporter had laid it on thick about her ancient magic abilities.

Sebastian glanced at Rosier, an uneasy edge piling on top of his already agitated nerves. “Have any of the others said anything to you about this?”

“Not yet,” Rosier shrugged, drawing a cigarette box from his coat pocket. “But, how long before Rookwood has his doubts, if he doesn’t have them already? She is a dangerous little thing, your witch. The Auror Office would be foolish not to keep a close eye on her.”

If Rosier were to discover who MC was with right now, this inflammatory article would carry a lot more weight, and it would make the rest of the camp uneasy. Sebastian dropped the newspaper down onto the bunk beside Rosier and began to pace again.

“If Aurors are watching, then they must be rather bored by now,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair. “Once MC and I leave to seek out ancient magic hotspots, the heat will be off the rest of you. I’m sure there is nothing to worry about.”

“Not even Lulu?” Rosier gave him an enquiring glance, tucking a cigarette between his lips.

Sebastian’s eyes darkened, his mouth tightening as he shook his head. “I haven’t seen her. I will be leaving with MC today, so she shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Never underestimate a woman scorned, mate,” Rosier said, the glow from the tip of his wand illuminating his handsome face as he lit his cigarette. “You dropped her for a more powerful pretty, she isn’t going to just forget about it. Just watch yourself.”

Sebastian frowned, the feeling that Rosier was probably right sliding down the back of his neck. All the more reason to get things moving as soon as possible. He moved towards where he had packed some essentials into a leather bag, checking the contents and glancing around to ensure he remembered everything. MC’s bag sat on the bunk, neatly packed and ready to go.

A sharp crack sounded behind him, and he turned. MC stumbled slightly as she arrived, her face drawn and pale, and she wiped her hand swiftly across her cheek. Her eyes were glassy and he wondered if she had been crying. Gaze darting around the tent, she spotted Rosier and she stiffened, striding towards Sebastian’s bunk with a hard look on her face.

“Is everything alright?” Sebastian asked warily, exchanging a look with Rosier, who merely shrugged.

“Fine,” she snapped, grabbing up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder. “Let’s get going. We have already lost precious hours of daylight, and the deposits won’t find themselves.”

Sebastian stared at her, noting the taut way her shoulders were held, the tight line of her mouth. The meeting must not have gone well, and curiosity burned as he wondered what Prewett had said to vex her. “I’m ready when you are,” he said, fastening the strap on his bag.

“Good luck,” Rosier said, giving him a wry smile.

MC remained tight lipped as she wrapped a warm, woollen cloak about her shoulders and stepped towards him, linking her arm around his. “Are you sure you know where to go?”

Sebastian met her gaze, answering the cold hardness that she used as a shield with a smug smirk. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said, subtly tugging her closer. “We will start at the top of our list and work through it. Hopefully, we will strike it lucky.”

With a nod towards Rosier, Sebastian held her firmly and twisted them through darkness, whisking them both away from the camp and right into a cold, blustery wind that cut right across the west coast of Scotland. They both gasped against the force of it, clinging to each other as her cloak snapped and twisted, a fine mist of rain coating their faces.

The small island of Staffa lay surrounded by the swell and crash of the ocean, bleak and deserted, isolated from the mainland unless one dared to reach it by vessel. With the power of magic, they had arrived at the remote location, a place steeped in myth and legend with the locals. Sebastian glanced around them, the rough grass dropping off the cliff edge towards the rocks and surging waves below.

“The cave is below us,” he shouted against the wind, still holding on to MC as though the strong gusts might carry her away. “It’s tidal, so let’s hope the sea is on our side.”

She leaned forward, staring at the drop, her face still cold and hard. “And you really think there could be ancient magic here?”

He shrugged. “It’s worth a try. The legend of the giant, Fingal, is a well known Muggle story, but it is based on some truth. If we do find ancient magic here, then it might be worth hopping across to Ireland to investigate the other end of the Causeway for more.”

“Let’s just get down into the cave and out of this wind to start with,” she shouted, pulling her cloak closer.

Taking a good look at the rocks below, Sebastian gripped her tight and closed his eyes. The rocks below were slippery and shaped like perfectly cut tiles creating a pattern along the cliff base. Waves surged forwards, coating them in spray, and he felt MC’s fingers bite into the back of his jacket as they picked their way along. Columns of rock in identical neat rows wrapped around the cliff face, giving it the appearance of being man-made, the mouth of the cave yawning dark and foreboding with a channel of ocean flooding into it. A pathway made up of the strangely cut rock looked like a winding slab of honeycomb, coated in green weed rather than golden honey.

“Easy now, and watch your step,” he urged. “It’s wet and slippery all the way in to the cave.”

They carefully stepped their way along, MC still holding his arm despite remaining tight lipped and tense as they moved further into the gloom. The crash of waves echoed against the rock, the scent of the sea pungent as the darkness began to claim them. Pulling out his wand, he held it up. “Lumos!”

MC paused, as did he, their mouths parted as they gazed around at the cave, the walls continuing in row upon row of rock columns. “It doesn’t make sense,” she murmured, tilting her head right back to look at the patterned roof. “Do you think it’s true that a giant built this? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but the words died on his lips, goosebumps spreading swiftly along his arms and his hair standing on end as a haunting sound echoed through the cave. It was like a humming, or a chanting voice, twinned with an ethereal acoustic that sent shivers cascading through him. He looked at MC, and saw the way her eyes widened as she looked deeper into the maw of the cave before meeting his gaze.

“What is that?” She whispered, some of the hardness slipping from her features in her surprise. “Mermaids?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so…”

Not impossible, of course, but he had neither heard nor read of any mention of mermaids being seen here. He stared into the blackness, the eerie sound blending with the roar of the ocean behind them. Instinctively, his arm circled MC’s waist, holding her against him protectively. “Do you feel anything? Could there be magic here?”

She remained silent, and he turned his attention away from the rear of the cave to look at her. Her gaze was lifted to the sound, her eyes glassy and full of shadows. There was pain in her expression, something lost and haunted that pulled sharply deep within his chest.

“MC? What is it?”

Her throat worked and she gently shook her head, staring up at the stunning rock face. “There is no ancient magic here. Only ghosts.”

When she finally looked at him, he caught a glimpse of her raw and exposed, but then she slammed down her shields, her eyes flicking away from him. As quickly as that, she had hardened her shell and closed him off. Something was wrong.

“What happened this morning, MC? You’re different. What happened with Prewett?”

She wouldn’t look at him, and she pulled back from him, placing a distance between them whilst still keeping their arms linked. “Just get us out of here, we are wasting time,” she said, her mouth tightening as she shivered.

…*…

The Fairy Pools, Loch Ness, and the Standing Stones of Stenness, all locations of myth and legend and yet, they turned up nothing. The pull of each act of Apparation and taking MC with him was beginning to drain Sebastian. He felt weary, and his head was feeling fuzzy. Frustration hung like a tense cloud, hovering over them and feeding on the icy mood that still clung to MC.

Clipped sentences and hard faced, her mood plummeted as the day wore on. These locations were beautiful, steeped in lore and history, and such visits should have been enjoyable, but there was no spark at all. Not one smile graced her mouth, and her eyes remained distant and seeking out horizons that didn’t include him.

“We should make camp,” he suggested, looking up to the skies. Thunderheads were rolling in, and the air felt thick and heavy, the tops of nearby mountain peaks vanishing into the misty clouds. “Would you prefer to return to the Ashwinder camp, or make our own?”

The rush of a nearby brook babbled and gushed, the scent of wild grasses and old woodlands heavy in the air. The breeze was chill, and MC held her cloak about herself as she stepped through the spongy bog of ground towards the swift moving stream. Taking out her water skin, she crouched to fill it. Sebastian waited, the long silences that followed any time he spoke were starting to grate on his nerves. It felt like she didn’t wish to speak with him at all, that he was a loose part there for travel convenience and nothing more. The closeness he had felt having her asleep in his arms last night was long gone.

“There is something I need to do,” she said finally, replacing the cap to her refilled skin as she stood. The wind pressed the loose strands of hair from her braid across her face as she turned to look at him, her features firm and resolute. Even in this frosty atmosphere she had weaved today, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to the sheer beauty of her. “Do you think we could pay a visit to Ominis?”

“Ominis?” He frowned. “How can he help with searching out deposits?”

“This isn’t about the deposits,” she said, her gaze following the stream as it wound down the hillside towards the thick cover of trees. “I want to talk to him about the owl he sent me.”

“Ominis is sending you owls now?” Sebastian frowned and folded his arms as he studied her. “How very cosy.”

She gave him a look, loaded with antagonism. “Don’t tell me that makes you jealous, now, Sebastian. I know the Gaunt family like sharing their blood, but don’t worry, I’m not in the market for a husband, cousin or otherwise. Besides, Ominis already has a wife, doesn’t he? Were you ever going to tell me that he married your twin, or were you saving that loaded whizz cracker as a big surprise?”

“I wasn’t saving it for anything,” he muttered, striding towards her, heart in his mouth. “What do you mean by not wanting a husband?”

“I mean exactly that,” she said, a humourless smirk twisted her face. “Seb, I’ve just got out of Azkaban. I am surrounded, once again, by dark wizards and danger, my mother is alive out there in the world somewhere, and my head is fucked up between all of that and all these feelings trapped in my chest that I cannot even begin to comprehend! The last thing on my mind is fucking marriage, and yet, that is what you took from my words!”

Her voice reached squeaky levels of fury, her cheeks flushing, and her eyes blazing with a temper that flickered white and blue. Turning, she stomped her little booted feet across from the stream, marching with a rigid frame towards the mountain trail that led into the forest. Her angry muttering about selfishness and priorities carried on the breeze, and he felt his own patience begin to split and fail.

“Hey, where are you going?” He called after her, hurrying to catch up.

“Anywhere away from you,” she snarled over her shoulder.

“What the fuck did I do?” He huffed, reaching out to try and catch hold of her arm and missing. “I thought things were okay between us now.”

She whirled to face him, catching him off guard with a sharp intake of breath as his booted feet slid on a patch of mud. Thunder rumbled over the mountain, low and menacing, as she screwed up her face in frustration and thumped her fists against her thighs.

“That’s just it, isn’t it? Everything seems to be alright, and then I start to doubt myself,” she sputtered, eyes dark with agony. “Sometimes I wish I could just turn it all off, stop all this tangled web of feelings inside of me and just exist without any of it having to be so bloody complicated.”

“You are preaching to the choir, princess,” he said, shaking his head. He jabbed a finger into his own tight chest. “How many times have I wished for something similar? There is a whole cavern of fucked up shit inside here that torments me every single day. I want to shove my own hands inside my chest and just rip it all out sometimes. Drink doesn’t do anything, only numbs it for a while, and gods forbid I ever try and get a good night’s sleep. No, at night, when the world is quiet, my head is screaming at me, reminding me of all the bad shit I can never run away from. So, I get it. I really do.”

Shoulders slumping, she put her hands to her head and looked up at the heavy sky, pain etched on her lovely face. An agonised sound tore from her throat. “What do I do, Seb? What should I do? We found nothing today, nothing! Rookwood is going to be wanting progress, and Leander…”

Her words rasped from her throat, desperate and harsh, but her voice cracked when she mentioned Prewett’s name. She squeezed her eyes closed and turned away from him, still holding her head.

“What about Leander?” He asked, taking a slow step forward as the first few drops of rain began to fall from the swollen clouds. “What happened this morning, MC? You can tell me.”

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. She brushed back loose strands of her hair and looked up at the sky, drops of rain landing on her cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about this morning. We should go. Take us to Ominis before we become swallowed by the storm.”

He didn’t know why it scared him so much, her reluctance to talk about Leander. The agony on her face, it spoke of strong feelings, and he wondered what torture she meant about the emotions in her chest. Did her affections for Prewett really run that deeply? Fighting the urge to grab her by the arms and demand answers he wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear, he stepped up and merely gently took her arm instead, taking the soft approach as though taming a skittish beast.

“Alright, we will go to Ominis,” he said, keeping his voice level and calm. “Then we will make a plan for tomorrow. We must be missing something, but we will figure it out, just like we always do. We can read over Isadora’s papers again, and think back over the deposits you found before. One day at a time, MC. That’s how we do it, one day at a time.”

Pressing her lips together, her eyes glassy and dark, she nodded. “Gods, I knew there was a reason I asked for you to come along with me,” she sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “You are a pain in my side, Sebastian, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m not entirely sure how to take that,” he muttered, pressing his lips to her bowed head.

“Well, it’s the best you’re going to get today,” she mumbled against his coat.

Smiling into the soft sweetness of her hair, he held her close. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

Leaving a stormy Scotland behind, he whisked them away to a smog filled London, and the warm glow of the hearth in Ominis’ kitchen. The warmth of the fire bathed his damp cheeks, raindrops glistened like beads of glass in MC’s hair, and he could smell a rather delicious meal cooking as he glanced around the room. Ominis stood near the mantelpiece, lifting his wand with a curious expression as Sebastian helped MC steady her feet on the wooden floor.

“Hello, old friend,” Sebastian greeted, his heart lifting at the sight of Ominis in his neatly pressed shirt and tie. “I have brought a visitor.”

Ominis smiled, moving forward with his wand aloft. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

MC left Sebastian’s arms and moved toward Ominis, the first shine of hope in her eyes all day lighting her face. “Ominis, I received your owl. You said you had visited with your parents. What did you discover?”

A shadow crossed Ominis’ face. “I did indeed, and I am afraid they were rather closed off on the matter of Aunt Elizabeth. Father claims she is a traitor, and they have not seen her for many years.”

Sebastian bit his lip, seeing the disappointment of another failure darken MC’s face. “They could tell you nothing at all?” He asked.

“It matters not,” Ominis said, moving toward a briefcase on the table. A tap of his wand made the catches unclip and he reached inside to retrieve an old, leather book. He held it up. “Where my parents are a closed book, I turned to the one person who used to never let me down, and even in death, she is there when I need her. Aunt Noctua kept journals, journals that are kept in her house in Norfolk. A house that now belongs to me. A quick trip there, and I may have managed to find some answers for you. Here.”

He held out the book and MC took it with trembling hands. Sebastian moved to her shoulder and watched as she opened the pages yellowed with age.

“I had read some of her journals once I obtained ownership of my aunt’s property, but not all,” Ominis explained. “I knew that she had been close with her sister when they were children. She often spoke fondly of her to me. Of course, Elizabeth was already gone by this time, so I never met her myself. Therefore, I chose some diaries that dated previous to my own birth, and discovered that Elizabeth had confided in Noctua over personal matters. You might find dates during the summer of this journal particularly interesting, MC.”

“What is this?” Anne’s sharp tone cut through the room like a blade. Sebastian tensed and turned to look at his twin standing in the doorway, her arms folded, and her face set into a look that would have put his mother to shame in its level of disapproval. “Tell me, dear husband, why is she in my kitchen?”

“Anne!” Ominis frowned, aiming his wand towards her direction, the red tip blinking. “Now, now, my love. There is no need to be rude.”

Sebastian immediately put a protective hand to MC’s back, meeting Anne glare for glare as she marched into the kitchen, her hand dipping into her pocket for her wand.

“No prizes for guessing who brought her here,” Anne scowled, her eyes flashing towards Sebastian before landing on the journal in MC’s hands. “Is that Noctua’s?”

MC grasped the journal close to her chest, and Sebastian could feel the tension in the muscles of her back. He was immediately on high alert.

“We didn’t come here looking for trouble,” Sebastian said, holding up his other hand. “You certainly don’t need your wand, Anne.”

“Then, why are you here?” Anne snapped, stubbornly tilting her chin as she raised her wand even higher.

Ominis sighed and pressed fingers to his brow. “Anne, please. Don’t do this.”

“You know how I feel about this woman, and now she dares to step foot in my house,” Anne glowered. “Did she not learn her lesson the last time she tried to get her feet under my table? You are not welcome here.”

Anne aimed her wand towards MC, her mouth a bitter line. Sebastian immediately stepped between them both, hands up, desperate to diffuse the situation.

Anne’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I won’t hex you to get to her?”

MC’s breaths were harsh at his back, hissing through gritted teeth as she pulled out her own wand and aimed it around Sebastian, both of his girls squaring up to fight with him in the middle. It was the stuff of nightmares.

“You are not going to hex me,” he warned, daring to place the palm of his hand on top of Anne’s wand and gently lowering it. He then moved his hand towards MC’s wand with a pointed look. “Nobody is going to be hexing anyone.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blast you both out of here,” Anne huffed. “The absolute nerve of you to bring her here under my roof.”

“Hark at you, playing the victim,” MC sneered, aiming her wand straight for Anne. “If anyone is to start throwing hexes around, then that would be me, and I have a very good reason to be here under this roof.”

“I can think of no reason to welcome you here,” Anne hissed.

“Tell her, Ominis,” Sebastian sighed. “I am assuming she doesn’t know yet.”

Anne’s eyes widened as she looked towards Ominis. “Tell me what?”

Ominis appeared to brace himself, as always, maintaining that dignified air that made his very presence dominate a room. “No, she doesn’t know. Now, Anne, please try to be reasonable here. It has come to light that MC is, in fact, my relative. Her birth records prove her to be my Aunt Elizabeth’s daughter, and therefore, she is my cousin.”

Whatever colour had managed to manifest on Anne’s pale face now disappeared, draining from her flesh as she stared aghast. She shook her head, eyes wild as she glanced around at them all. “No,” she breathed. “No, that cannot be. She can’t be a Gaunt… I would know.”

The last three words tumbled from her lips in a stunned mumble, but Sebastian caught them. His heart jumped, and then stalled in his chest as he seized his twin’s arm in a vice grip.

“What do you mean, you would know?” His voice was low, dangerous, and his sister turned her big brown eyes up towards his face, all signs of her rage seeping away to be replaced by shock.

“Indeed, a question I was about to ask myself,” Ominis said, moving slowly forward. He tilted his head, his wand scanning his wife. “Why would you think that you should know this? Because I certainly did not until MC showed me her birth record.”

Accustomed to usually having the upper hand, Anne floundered for a few seconds, her eyes darting from one to the other. Sebastian savoured her being at a loss. She usually had a quick tongue, which meant that she was searching out a reply, a lie to cover tracks she had not anticipated. He honed in on this vulnerability, his instincts kicking in to delve and uncover.

“Well, well, it looks like I’m not the only one who has secrets,” Sebastian crooned, poised to pounce. “What have you been hiding, sister dearest? It wouldn’t have anything to do with our parent’s research, would it? You know, the information that you were so desperate to hide away from me.”

Anne stiffened, her eyes hardening as she stared at him. “It will stay hidden,” she said, nodding as if confirming something to herself. She pulled herself up straight, her eyes sunken into her pale cheeks, a waif of a thing, but capable of being formidable still. “I don’t have to explain myself, especially in front of her. Just as I predicted, it did not take long for her to sink her hooks into you again, and now you are running around like her little errand boy. You think this is love, but it is nothing but a toxic obsession. You are entranced by her power and what she can do, but it blinds you to the danger she is to everyone. I warned you, Uncle Solomon warned you, and now here you are. It will be a cold day in hell before I let her get anywhere close to that research, and wherever you are, she isn’t far behind you. It stays hidden!”

“I have just as much right to that research as you,” he bit out. “And, what of Ominis? MC is his family. If there is anything in those files concerning her, then it could affect him, too.”

Anne’s eyes darted towards Ominis and she took a few steps backward, her wand arm shifting in agitated arcs. “How long have you known she was your blood?”

“A few days,” he admitted. “I needed some time to think it over, and speak with my parents. It was never my intention to keep it from you.”

“And yet you did,” Anne said bitterly, her rigid facade cracking a little. “Do you agree with Sebastian? Do you think I should let him see the research?”

Ominis bowed his head in thought, the room stretched taut with tension so thick Sebastian fancied he could smell it. MC was silent beside him, his hand easing up and down her tense back in soothing strokes.

“What could be in that research that is so terrible, Anne? Would your parents keep it from one of you, but not the other? It hardly seems fair to me.”

Anne’s face scrunched in fury, a low growl of frustration bursting from her as she clenched her fists. “You do take their side! You agree with them over your wife! None of you understand. I have lost so much already, and yet you push me to risk losing even more. I blame her! I blame that bitch for coming into our lives and ripping out the very beating heart of it, and I will never, ever forgive you for it. Never!”

Sebastian gaped at his twin, the fury on her wan face was staggering as she jabbed her wand towards MC with a shaking hand. Ominis stepped towards her, his face distressed, but she backed away from him, shaking her head.

“She had better be gone when I get back,” she spat, her eyes narrow slits as she glared at MC. “I hope never to see you darken my door ever again, and you should stay away from my brother. If there is a shred of decency left in your conscience, then you will do as I ask, before you destroy him.”

Sebastian could feel MC shaking, but his eyes were fixed on his twin as he tried to process the fury and hate that spilled from her mouth. Could it be the curse making her speak in such a way? His sister had been the other half of his soul his whole life, her hand had always been there to hold, her words a comforting whisper in his ear whenever he would cry as a child. He did not recognise the girl before him now, and he thought perhaps a part of himself was dying right there as she tore at a person who was so important to him. She was cutting him off from his parents and their life work, holding secrets, and acting so ugly that it made his eyes burn with hot tears.

“Anne, please…” His broken plea came out as a sob, and she met his gaze, a moment of regret quickly shielded as she backed into the doorway, her wand aimed into the room as though they were the enemy.

“No,” she said through gritted teeth, and then she was gone. A swirl of black and Anne vanished, taking her fury with her like a storm that blew in and out again on the shore.

Sebastian turned his gaze to Ominis, who held his head in his hands, and then to MC, who met his confused misery with those mesmerising eyes draped in shadow. If she even dared to listen to Anne and abandon him, then hell itself would cower from his rage. How many times could he keep himself upright on his own two feet and watch as someone he loved disappeared?

His hand gripped the back of MC’s robe as if to keep her there, the fear that she would vanish too made his throat close. Perhaps she sensed his fear, for her hand sought out his and she grasped it in a tight grip, and then she was reaching for Ominis and taking his hand, too. The three of them stood, hands clasped in the ringing silence of the kitchen, as the skies above London burst into a downpour of rain.

Taglist: @eternalremorse @slytherin-paramour @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @evaslytherpuff @loving-him-was-red13 @sevprince-91 @lucy-withthediamonds-inthesky

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

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istaricelebelasse · 28 days ago

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Based on the post about the Fingon and Maedhros story being shared and edited by all the peoples of Middle Earth

If there was one thing that Bilbo enjoyed about Rivendell it had to be the Hall of Fire. It was grand to share and listen to tales and songs, and there was always an appreciative audience when he wanted to debut a new work.

Not that the tale he wished to share on this particular evening was one of his own. Instead it was a traditional tale, one normally shared around a winter’s hearth or underneath the Party Tree.

He readied himself to recite the words, as comfortable with the paths of the tale as he was with those of the Shire. His audience was a rapt and attentive as any group of faunts, for if there was one thing that Bilbo had learnt of the elves, it was that they adored new tales.

(He supposed that the same stories became boring after a few thousand retellings.)

A final puff on his pipe and he was ready to begin

—

Once, when the sun and the moon were new, there lived a fair maiden. She was as beautiful as she was kind, with long red curls she let tumble down her back. She was as apple cheeked and stout as any good hobbit lass should be, and every lad from miles around was enamoured with her.

But she only had eyes for one: a prince (for it was in the days when kings and princes still lived) who had once been her closest childhood friend. He was brave, and true, and could often be found speaking to all manner of bird and beast.

They planned to be wed, and their love was so great that even the flowers themselves bloomed brighter for joy.

Yet there was another. A wizard, cruel and jealous, who did not wish for anyone but he to set eyes upon the beautiful things in the world.

He saw the love shared by the lady and her prince and wished to hoard her beauty all for himself.

He sent his spiders and wolves to capture the lady one day as she gathered flowers, and they bound her up in ropes of silk to take to a tower. There she was locked away, away from the sun and the moon and the growing things of the world.

When his lady love did not return from the woods, the prince worried. He had heard the howls of the wolves and feared the worst.

He gathered up his fiddle and sling and ventured into the woods to find his lady, yet when he reached the glade she loved he found but her kerchief and basket.

The prince would have fallen to despair, but for a starling who had seen the spiders and wolves and shared this with the prince.

He followed the starling through the woods, the trees arching overhead.He called out to his love as he walked, playing his fiddle and listening for a response. But no response could be heard.

Deeper and deeper he ventured into the woods, until at last he came to a valley where the trees were ancient and hunched.

And so the prince called out to his love again, yet no response was there, until at last he started to sing a song. It was so beautiful that even the birds joined in, and finally so too did his lady love.

It echoed across the valley so sweetly that even the wind itself seemed to dance to it.

The prince followed the sound of the singing to a great tower, where his lady love could only be spotted by the shine of her red hair in the sunlight.

He hunted and searched for some way to reach his lady love, but to no avail. The walls were too smooth, the trees too short, and the vines too weak to support him, and with no way to reach her, the prince finally asked one of the birds for help.

First the robins tried, but they were too small. Then it was the doves, but they could not work together. Next a swan tried, but he could not fly high enough.

Finally an eagle stepped forwards. “Step on my back,” He said, “And I shall take you to your lady.”

And so the prince climbed onto the eagle’s back and it carried him up, up, up to the top of the tower where his lady love resided.

Their reunion was sweet, and neither could have said who was more glad to see the other. A final obstacle lay before them though.

A rope of silk bound her wrist so that she could not climb down the tower, so for all that he had reached her if he could not break the rope then all would be for naught.

First he tried to cut the rope, but it was too slippery and his blade would not work. Then he tried to untie the knot, but it would not be undone. Next he tried to argue to rope open, but it would not move.

Finally a tear slipped down his face and splashed onto the rope. Moved by the love between the prince and his lady, the rope untied itself and coiled into a neat pile on the floor.

And so the prince and his lady love flew away from the tower on the back of the eagle, back to their home. They were wed and lived happily ever after to the end of their days.

—

Bilbo leant back in his chair, content with the applause and compliments paid to him by the elves. His version would never be quite so good as that of the Old Took’s, but he did a good job of it if he said so himself.

In fact, the only one who did not seem utterly enamoured with his story was the Lord Elrond himself. His host had a queer look in his eyes that did not match the smile upon his face, it almost looked pained.

But then he blinked and it was gone, and Bilbo decided he must have imagined it.

After all, everyone knew the story was completely made up.

Didn’t they?

#bilbo baggins #Rivendell #lord of the Rings #silmarillion #Fingon #maedhros #although Bilbo doesn’t know it’s them

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mortallyvirtuallove · 25 days ago

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Some unique things I've scripted into my Hogwarts dr

(Hogwarts golden trio era)

1. I added fate winx to this reality. You can be just a witch/wizard, just a fairy, or both combined. The buildings are on the same campus and combined. Everyone who's fairy has to take combat classes. I'm a witch and fire fairy mixed. I'm Bloom's sister.

2. Annual events. We have a spring/Easter ball, Halloween ball, and yule ball. We also have carnivals/fairs in the summer, fall, winter, and spring

3. Enchanted fireworks. They get up close in quidditch games so I scripted they'll be cold by magic if a piece lands on or by you

4. Wizard express. It's like Amazon but made for people who attend Hogwarts

5. This is silly and scripted for fun, but wizard weed 😭 its the same but when you exhale it's a different color every time

#shifting community #desired reality #shiftblr #shifting blog #shifting motivation #reality shift #reality shifting #shifters #shifting #hogwarts dr

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cream-and-tea · 26 days ago

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LAY ME DOWN. chapter eight excerpt. unedited. featuring: the shaky next step in agnes’s journey to understand her powers. mentions of death. mentions of violence. ghosts. the not-great aftereffects of dealing with ghosts.

[transcript under the cut]

since the last major bit of writing from lmd i shared had pallas doing magic i figured it was only fair to show off agnes’s spooky ghost bullshit in this one!

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-). @vellichor-virgo @transmasc-wizard @houndmouthed @muddshadow @just-wublrful @corkywantstowrite @shrunkupthejams @andromedaexists @caninemotiff @lungs-and-gills @vampiresdrinkfruitjuice @phantomnations @onomatopiya @deer-in-headlights-stare @redbloodprose @definitelynotclayface @carnivalls @atthenian @dallonwrites

When they were younger and inquired after what it felt like to call a ghost, Fiver had told them to imagine trying to eat something in a dream only to have it start eating you back. Not in a violent way though, he elaborated, as if there was any such thing as magic devoid of violence. Calliope said it was like dunking yourself in fucking ice water, and then proceeded to empty her cup of cold lemonade over their head as a demonstration (they had cracked her tooth for that one, fingers shoved down throat to make him choke). Call it learned bias but they do not trust either of the two to have provided a factual account of the experience.

They’ve watched Agnes attempt this so many times. They know how it will go, best for beat. She will stand there for far too long. Perhaps there will be a faint shimmer in the air before her. Then she will drop her hand and stumble backwards like she’s been shocked and look at them all cringing and apologetic like she’s waiting for them to please help please tell me what I did wrong. And they will (or at least they will try to as best they can because this is not their area of expertise and the Director knew that she had to have known that when she asked this of them), and she will nod and apologize and trust their words and promise to do better next time. And they will both move on to more productive things and pretend the issue is being properly addressed. At this point it’s routine.

So when the space just in front of Agnes begins to warp itself slightly, a waver like one observed on a hot summer day distorting the blackberry bushes beyond it, they do not register it as anything of note. And when a visible shiver runs through her body, rustling the green at her feet and lifting the very ends of her hair and puffed cap sleeves of her blouse, they internally brace for the connection to shatter as it has so many times before.

Instead the emptiness her hand clutches begins to leak, to bleed, to congeal and resolve itself into an unmistakable something. Not so much the form of a human being but the absence of where a human being should be. A palness like fog spreading from the point of contact forming pressed palm and grasping fingers and arm and shoulder spindling into torso and neck until a blank, yawning, hole fills the approximate shape of a man standing in front of a girl in grotesque parody of a handshake, it’s outline futzing tenuously in and out of existence.

“Hello,” Agnes says, and her breath fogs in front of her face, even though the greenhouse is as artificially temperate as ever, even though Pallas’s shirt is currently glued to their back with sweat. What comes after is a sound like nails on a chalkboard, an echoing, rustling, scraping sound that fills the air in a spiral out from the now-visible ghost and washes over Pallas in the first blast of cold air when opening a window in winter that they realize is rendering into a spattering whisper of hello hello hello hello. The dead thing responding to Agnes, or maybe merely echoing her, they do not know enough about the specifics to say, they only know that this is something beyond dragged into the here and now where it should not be, so the way their nails bite into their palms upon hearing it is an entirely reasonable reaction.

Pallas has seen ghosts called by the skilled and unskilled, spoken to them and been spoken to, their experience with their powers equal and opposite has been about as through as it can be, but they’ve still never been able to shake the notion that there is a particular perversion in it. Vita at least deals in the tangible, the real, no matter how much it may warp those things the life they hold in their hands is always at least possible to hold. Perhaps Mortem is just as present to those born with it, just as natural, but Pallas has known enough of the things roaming the Haithwood outside to ever fully set their fear aside. In a world currently occupied by dying the act of brushing so closely with that death should be viewed with the utmost caution and the urge to grab Agnes by her shoulders and drag her back from what she has manifested is a natural byproduct of that caution.

Because they are aware of all of this they are also aware of how what she has done is incorrect, or at least incomplete. There should be features solidifying now, more words audible besides that rasping hello, but Morgan Chase is still as unformed as dough, a shadowless blotch sapping colour from cheeks and air from lungs and green from plant life. Agnes’s hair has fully lifted into a halo of dark, twisting waves around her head, her eyes glazed over almost completely. But still nothing more materialises beyond the unthing emptying itself in front of her.

Just as they’re about to intercede Agnes takes three wobbling, rapid, steps backwards and topples to the ground, the ghost saticing away into invisibility once again, though as Pallas moves they are uncomfortably aware of the fact that invisible is nowhere near gone. All that has happened is that it has been removed once again from their sight and whispered back into that state of being only Gravespeakers can perceive. But the dead man is still here, perhaps watching them right now, and the knowledge of that is a thorn pricking itself into the bottom of their foot.

Pallas forces their lungs to suck in air, then expel it, then they hurry to stand by Agnes. For a second she just lies on her back, limp as a dead animal in a way that will not fit into their mind, before sitting up with a great gasp of air. Pallas can see the grass she was just standing on has browned and withered and gone dead, and that she is shaking uncontrollably. Gooseflesh prickles her skin and her teeth chatter through bloodless lips as she raises her arms up to curl around herself. Pallas’s first thought is she’s going to bite through her tongue if she keeps on like that and their second thought is I can’t believe she actually did it.

#surprise surprise using your connection to death to reach out and let a ghost feed off your life force in order to drag it into some #semblance of visibility to those who cannot see them is. um. maybe kind of bad for you.#also i know it’s just a tiny detail in the first paragraph but i always like throwing in snapshots of the fights #pallas and calliope got into when the were younger. they were trying to tear each other APART. normal kids <3 #pallasvoice yeah sure i exclusively use my magic to inflict twisted body horror but ghosts are scaryyy :(#wip: ghost story #creme does a writing

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mirikitakato · 8 months ago

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[Translation] Skits of "Our magical party wiz you" and the staged reading ""A Mixer After the Mission"

Good day, everyone! I have translated the skits and the staged reading from the “Our magical party wiz you!” (Mahoawa) event on January 28-29th, 2024. It took me a while, and this is not the full translation for the 2-hour show. There are also Q&A activities involving seiyuus and some additional skits with characters. However, I translated all the skits featuring CaiOwe and the 20-minute main skit "A Mixer After the Mission" written by the devil Tsushimi Bunta!

Please feel free to share the link to the translation or screencap it to react.

Characters: Oz, Arthur, Mithra, Rutile, Cain, Owen, Snow

(The Day’s skit)

Owen: Hey, are you kidding me?

Mithra: That's my line.

Cain: Hey there, you two. Let's not start off on such a tense note, alright? What's going on?

Mithra: The thing I just had for lunch is called Napolitan pasta. This guy has more bacon in his bowl than mine, not fair at all.

Cain: More bacon? How nice!

Owen: That's not nice, comparing to that pudding he has. Mithra's pudding is bigger than mine.

Mithra: Obviously, because I eat faster than you.

Owen: You were just eating everything randomly, weren't you? Ah, I feel sorry for that pudding, being eaten by someone like you.

Mithra: So you're not giving up? How unsightly.

Owen: Hah? You want to die?

Mithra: Just what I want.

Owen: Cuore Memini–

Mithra: Athrim—

Cain: Wait, hold on!! Let's not start a fight out of nowhere! You'll wreck the place.

Rutile: Ah, how about this? Since we're in a theater, why not have a competition fitting this place?

Mithra: A competition fitting this place?

Rutile: Let's have the spirits of this land as judges. Since they love singing and art, we could have a poetry competition. What do you think, dear spirits? (The audience applauds)

Rutile: Thank you.

Mithra: Well, okay. I'm the strongest at writing poems.

Owen: I won't go along with your ridiculousness. Such a stupid game.

Mithra: Oh? Is it because you don’t have confidence?

Owen: Aren't you just led by the nose?

Cain: Please don't start a new round of quarrels, guys. Owen, if you're not interested…

Owen: Fine, I'll participate. With Mithra's brain, my victory is assured.

Sir Knight, let's start quickly *kick*

Cain: Ouch! Why did you suddenly kick me?!

The theme is “Winter”. Owen, you first!

Owen: Eh? Me?

Cain: 321, GO!

Owen: The…the winter sun…on top of the sky…turns into…a frozen white jade…

Rutile: Wow, what a beautiful imagery!

Owen: On the snow field…there's…a fluffy dog…but his fur sheds…and vanishes with the wind…

Cain: Ahhh, he was so fluffy, though.

Mithra: That's it? Well, no surprise that you're at this level

Rutile: But the first part was great! I couldn't have come up with “frozen sun”!

Cain: I also love fluffy dogs, they’re like winter. When you see your dog getting shaggy, you know winter's here. It's a shame his fur fell out.

Owen: Oh, you like that? Then why don't I turn you into a big hairless dog and throw you into an extremely cold place where it snows all the time?

Cain: Why do you come up with words to insult me so easily?!

Cain: Next theme is “Northern Wizards”. 321, GO!

Mithra: On the snow field…there is a fluffy dog.

Owen: Wait, don't copy me.

Cain: It’s even the same dog.

Mithra: Standing there is a creature more majestic than a dog, a huge crocodile... and the strongest and most fearsome, me...

Mithra: Hmmm, sounds weird. Rutile, you are up.

Rutile: Huh!? Uh...if you step on the shadow...

Owen: Hey hey, it'd be cheating to ask others for help, wouldn't it? Rutile, don't say more.

Rutile: I'm...I'm sorry. I can't resist answering when someone asks me...

Mithra: Huh? Is there a rule against asking others?

Cain: Well...no, there isn't. Sorry, I forgot to set rules. But I trust the spirits (audience) will judge fairly. Let's hear Rutile's first.

Rutile: Yes! Owen's expression was particularly poetic, and Mithra was great at involving others.

Cain: I see. Both had unique elements in their poems. What do the spirits think?

(The audience applauds)

Cain: I see. Congratulations, Owen and Mithra, you share the victory!

Rutile: Congratulations!

Mithra: Winning was too easy. Poetry seems like child's play.

Owen: You just won without a fight. Let's start over.

Cain: The spirits seem pleased, making the atmosphere livelier and more energetic here.

Owen: That means…

Mithra: Then...

Owen/Mithra: *fighting each other* Cuore Memini/Arthim!

(The Night’s skit)

Snow: You're back too. Just walking around, not bothering anyone and not killing anyone?

Owen: You think I'm Mithra? I don't do those things. *sound of chewing*

Cain: What are you eating?

Owen: Dango from a nearby stall. It's right over there, by the red gate.

Snow: You're right, it smells sweet and delicious.

Cain: I noticed it too when I passed by earlier today. But I was so full that I couldn't eat anymore, so I didn't buy any.

Owen: Because you had too much Napolitan pasta, didn’t you? What a glutton, ordering such a large portion.

Cain: I couldn't help it! It was so delicious. After that, I walked around the streets with Rutile for a long time and started feeling hungry again.

Hey, give me one.

Owen: The song of hot dango.

Cain: What?

Owen: If you want one, sing. This is a payback for making me do weird things during the day.

Cain: Are you still holding a grudge over that...? Eh…Impromptu singing? I've never done that without a drink...

Snow: How about this? They also sell hot drinks near the red gate. It's slightly sweet and tastes a bit like wine, but it's actually non-alcoholic.

Cain: Thanks. Ohhh, it smells good. Now this can set the mood I need...

Owen: Cuore Morito

Cain: Ugh!?

Snow: Owen!? What did you--

Cain: ....He he he...there...is a pile of hot dango...~

Snow: Cain!?

Cain: Dango dango~~ Taran taran tan tan~

Owen: He's started drunken dancing and singing now. How clumsy and amusing.

Snow: Dear! Did you cast a spell on Cain? That kid took just a sip and he's already drunk.

Cain: Ha, ha ha...Let's take off our clothes to dance and sing, everyone...

Owen: Do it, do it~

Snow: Wah!!! Wait--! Noscomnia!

Cain: What just happened?

Owen: What, we were just getting to the good part.

Snow: Phew, that was close. Are you okay, dear? You were only dancing and singing, don’t worry.

Cain: I can’t remember…..But then that means I fulfilled Owen’s request?

Owen: Well, you could say that. Here, I'll give you a dango, catch it. *throw it away*

Cain: Ah! Hey, don’t just toss dango around like that!

The staged reading "A Mixer After the Mission" written by Tsushimi Bunta

Arthur: Look, Lord Oz, there are fireworks lighting up the sunset sky.

Oz: Indeed.

Rutile: It seems people are setting off fireworks to celebrate the resolution of the recent event. How beautiful.

Cain: Strange occurrences took place at Granvelle Castle. Although very dangerous and tricky, fortunately, we managed to solve them successfully.

Snow: That's right, the people on the street are also very happy. Beautiful music is coming from the square, it feels delightful.

Oz: Indeed.

Snow: Ah, dear Oz, the young wizards are all very happy now. You should sometimes respond to them with something more enthusiastic, like "Wow! That's fantastic!"

Arthur: Just watching the fireworks with Lord Oz makes me happy enough. And is this music the same as the one played during the inauguration ceremony?

Cain: Yes, the sound of fireworks, the music from that day, and the laughter of the people. Just hearing them makes me feel like I've been transported back to the day of the inauguration ceremony.

Arthur: The sages and their wizards gathered on the terrace of Granville Castle and waved many times to the people.

Rutile: After that, a lot of things really happened. Time has really flown by since then. Being able to become so close to Lord Arthur, Uncle Mithra, and others is like a dream.

Speaking of which, where are Uncle Mithra and Mr. Owen?

Cain: Hmm? Oh, I don't see them either. Weird, they were with us just a moment ago.

Snow: Maybe they went to confirm "The Legendary Wind Passage"?

Arthur: What is "The Legendary Wind Passage"?

Snow: The land in this area is blessed by the wind spirit, thus strong winds blow sometimes. The most famous one is a passage where there are always violent storms. It is said that only the strongest wizard can pass through this legendary passage.

Arthur: So it’s the strongest passage?

Snow: Exactly, the strongest passage, literally as the words imply.

Cain: I'm pretty sure those two are competing to see who can fly through that passage faster.

Rutile: I am very confident in my broom-flying skills and would like to participate too...

Mithra: Arhtim

Arthur: They're back. Welcome back, Mr. Mithra, Mr. Owen.

Mithra: We're back.

Owen: Ugh, that was the worst.

Mithra: Oz, it is said that only the strongest wizard can pass through the wind passage - the strongest path, and I have conquered it. In other words, I'm the strongest. Your strongest throne has been taken away by me. How about that? Don't you want to say something?

Oz: Wow, that's fantastic.

Mithra: Huh?

Oz: Wow, that's fantastic.

Mithra: What's that?

Oz: Wow, that's—

Mithra: Shut up, you're noisy.

Arthur: Lord Oz, your level of agreement is truly superb.

Speaking of celebration, it seems that Lord Oz, Mr. Mithra, and Mr. Owen have never participated in a mixer.

Oz: Mixer?

Arthur: A mixer is to celebrate an encounter. If possible, how about holding one now? I feel a bit regretful not being able to join the social gathering with Lord Oz and others.

I also want to plan a mixer for 22 people including the Sage.

But now that we are here, how about practicing this bonding event in advance?

Mithra: Interesting, I want to join this thing called a mixer or something

Arthur: Thank you, Mr. Mithra.

How about Lord Oz?

Oz: Yes.

Arthur: Thank you so much!

How about Owen?

Owen: I won't. It's boring.

Cain: Don't say that.

If we sit face to face in a social gathering, we can understand each other better and maybe become closer.

Owen: When did I say I want to get along with you?

Cain: I want to get along well with you.

Owen: I don't want to. As if I would go.

Cain: Uhmm okay, that's good then! I actually don't want to get along with you either, but I have to do this because my lord is here. Lucky for me that you refused me first.

Owen: Oh? So you actually don't want to get along with me?

Cain: Yeah, why should I want to get along with you? You took my eyeball.

Owen: Ha ha, what a pitiful Sir Knight.

Owen: Then I will reluctantly join this mixer. Let's get close to each other, shall we?

Cain: Is that so?! Thank you, Owen!

Owen: Huh?

Cain: That's good for you, Arthur.

Owen: What does this mean?

Cain: Everyone, let's join in the fun!

Owen: Hey? Hey!

Arthur: I see!

Speaking of which, the Sage told me once…in mixer, people are supposed to have some special events.

Rutile: Special events?

Mithra: No matter what those are, it’s not a problem for me

Arthur: I don't know the specific details. Let's try to find out.

Rutile: I think I have an idea! (Rutile starts singing)

Rutile: Why do you want to drink? Why do you want to drink? Because you want to drink, so you drink!

(T/n: He is singing a parody of なんで持ってんの, a japanese drinking song)

Arthur: *confused voice* W-what song is that?

Rutile: This is the kind of song everyone sings at the beginning of a mixer.

Cain: Somehow, it feels like I’ve heard it somewhere before.

Rutile: Really? I created this song, though.

Cain: Really? But it sounds a bit familiar… Anyway, since we have songs, there should also be dances, right? Like dancing in pairs at a ball.

Arthur: That sounds appropriate! Perfect for social occasions to celebrate new encounters.

Owen: So how about this?

Owen: We play a game where one person acts as the king and the rest are retainers who follow the king's orders.

Cain: This game might not be suitable for this event, right?

Owen: …it isn’t?

Cain: It could make the atmosphere tense. It doesn’t seem like a social game.

Rutile: Although it sounds fun, I don’t think it's suitable for social gatherings.

Owen:…Hmmm, whatever.

Arthur: So, what dishes do you think should be served at the party?

Rutile: Dishes, huh? If there’s a grand feast at the mixer, the atmosphere will be livelier.

Cain: You must be hungry, Rutile. How about roasting a whole pig or something?

Arthur: Sounds like the mixer will be quite lively.

Rutile: It does sound that way! A roasted whole pig would be nice at a mixer.

Owen: Hey, how about this?

Mixing a hot sauce puff into a plate of sweet puffs filled with thick cream.

Cain: Absolutely not. That's a terrible idea.

Owen: Why?

Cain: Well, it's just not feasible. People who eat the hot sauce puff would be in for a bad time. This is meant to be a rare opportunity to meet new friends, and doing this would definitely make the atmosphere tense.

Owen: …Wouldn’t that make everything surprisingly lively though?

Cain: No, absolutely not. This would make it difficult to warm up the atmosphere. Think about it carefully— putting hot sauce in the puff for people to eat. It's going to be very tense, I'm telling you.

Rutile: I would certainly feel nervous…

Owen: Hmmm, whatever.

Snow: Ah, now I remember!

Rutile: What is it, Lord Snow?

Snow: Dear Sage mentioned a "first impression" game that seems to be held at the mixer.

Rutile: A game of first impressions?

Snow: Yes, for example, a question like "Who looks the gentlest here, or the richest person," and then you point to someone intuitively.

Snow: I hope everyone points to me when being asked "Who is the cutest person here?"

Oz: He just blurts out his wish.

Mithra: I definitely don't think you're the cutest person. If you asked who the scariest person is, I'd probably point to you.

Snow: I'm not scary. I'm obviously very cute.

Rutile: Very cute, indeed. But since we’ve met before, it might be difficult to judge as if it were the first time.

Snow: No worries. If it's just for a short time, I can erase your memory!

Mithra: Hah?

Owen: Erase memory?

Snow: Noscomnia.

Snow: Great, now we can play the first impression game!

Snow: Okay, after preparing, let’s point out who the cutest person here is.

Arthur: What just happened?

Mithra: What kind of terrifying magic was just used?

Owen: Step any closer, and I'll kill you.

Owen: Cuore-- Mithra: Arthi-- Oz: Voz--

Snow: Wait, wait, don't be so excited yet

Mithra: What do you mean?

Owen: Who are you?

Oz: Voz–

Snow: I said wait! Now everyone is playing the First Impression game.

Rutile: First Impression game?

Snow: Yes, it is to determine who the cutest person here is in the first impression.

Cain: Hold on a minute, I don't remember anything, not even you or myself.

Snow: Well, don't worry about that.

Cain: Don't worry?!

Snow: Yeah, don't stress about it, it's no big deal.

Cain: Is it really okay?

…Well, I suppose it is!

Rutile: Great, I don’t remember anything either, so I feel relieved to hear you say that.

Mithra: What's going on? That boy's complete lack of any sense of crisis is making me irrationally angry. My stomach seems to be hurting too.

Rutile: Oops, brother over there, do you have a stomachache?

Drink some hot potion to soothe your stomach, it'll help. I'll warm it up for you now.

Ah, but... T/n: Usually Rutile calls Mithra "Oji-san," but he's addressing Mithra as "Onii-san" now.

Mithra: What's the matter?

Rutile: This potion is very bitter. Brother, can you handle it? Will it be difficult for you?

Mithra: Not a problem. If need be, I can even eat grass.

Rutile: Ha ha, you're quite the wild one.

My first impression of you, brother, is that you're a very wild person.

Mithra: Ah, thank you.

My first impression of you is that of a careless person.

Snow: Look like someone knows how to play the game already!

Arthur: Hm? If you look closely, you two have the same eye color.

Cain: Ah, you are talking about me?

Owen: Me?

Rutile: That's right. Maybe you guys are brothers?

Ah, I feel like I have a brother too.

Cain: Do I have a brother?

*look at Owen* Can I call you big bro then?

Owen: What a joke. First of all, how could I have a brother with such weak magic power?

Besides, just from the appearance point of view, my hair color is similar to that guy’s.

Arthur: Are you talking about me?

Owen: Your magic power is pretty strong. Maybe we really are brothers.

Arthur: …Big Brother!

Owen: What's wrong~

Oz: Wrong…!

Arthur: Ah. Oz: That’s definitely wrong, although I don’t know why. Arthur: You over there… Oz: …Are you talking to me?

Arthur: …Sir, you have been silent until now.

Can you say a little more? That way we can get to know your personality better. Maybe the cutest person here is you.

Oz: I have nothing to say to you.

Arthur: Why?

Oz: *Silence* Because I have nothing to say.

Arthur: But why?

Oz: *Longer silence* Because I don't have anything to say so I won't say—

Arthur: Why—!

Snow: So, you guys have nothing to say. Okay, I get it! Let's begin! When I ask who the cutest person here is, everyone points to me.

Mithra: Isn't this cheating?

Snow: Humph! Forget it, let's not ask you; let's ask the spirits of this land.

(Snow asked who is the cutest, who is the noblest, who is the sexiest, and who is liked by animals. The audience responded with Snow, Arthur, Mithra, and Owen. After that, Snow returns memories to everyone.)

Arthur: Where are we?

Owen: Feels like there's a gap in my memory...

Cain: And I feel like I just had a strange dream...

Snow: Ha ha, the first impression game was so much fun!

Oz: I don't remember anything...

Cain: I want to join in too.

Snow: But you already participated.

Cain: Eh? I did? My memory's a bit fuzzy.

Owen: Too bad for you, then.

Snow, did you cast some strange magic on us?

Arthur: I feel like Owen and I were brothers...

Oz: Wrong.

Snow: Ha ha! That was so fun!

Mithra: So, what about the mixer to celebrate our encounter? Is this the end?

Arthur: No, it's not over yet. It's been a while since we last met.

Let’s reminisce about the events from when we first met until now.

Mithra: Are we talking about my heroic deeds?

Arthur: Mithra, Owen, Lord Oz, Cain, Rutile, Lord Snow, and our other esteemed comrades. And let's not forget the heroic deeds of our dear Sir Sage.

Cain: From the Ancient Birds and Beasts to the Resurrected City of the Dead. Three monsters attacking Granville Castle. And the perilous adventures in the Western Kingdom.

Rutile: Too many to recount. Let's share our stories tonight as we delve into the memories we share with the Sage.

Owen: There might be some pages I'd rather forget completely though.

Arthur: Even so, these are the nostalgic scenes that shape who we are. No matter how embarrassing or heartbreaking they may be, let's hold them dear in our hearts. Like precious friends, let's cherish those dark pages with tenderness.

Oz: That’s just like you, who is good at loving others.

Arthur: It's thanks to you, Lord Oz, and the watchful eyes of everyone else, that I'm able to do this. Now, everyone! Let's prepare some warm black tea and sweets. Get ready for our trip down memory lane, with the sound of fireworks and the music we love, while listening to everyone's laughter.

--- END ---

#mahoutsukai no yakusoku #mahoyaku #translation #owen #cain knightley #Mithra #Rutile Flores #Arthur #Everything is cute

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