whizzing-fizzbee

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Meet the Sallows

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI Word count: ~2,800 Tags: reader insert, female reader, shameless smut, explicit sexual content, marriage, husband and wife, workplace sex, auror MC, auror Sebastian, jealous Sebastian, p in v, oral sex, no beta

Summary: You and your husband, Sebastian Sallow, are both Aurors for the Ministry of Magic. When the new hire fails to realize you're married, he shows interest in you, drawing jealousy from your husband.

Notes: No idea what this is -- just a tiny dose of some shameless workplace smut. 💖

Read below the cut.

The Auror Division of the Ministry of Magic is quiet this morning. Sebastian Sallow sits at his desk, twirling his wand in one hand while his nose is buried in a spellbook. His brow furrows as he considers the spell theories on the page while his partner, Everett Clopton, scribbles notes at the desk across from him. The pair continue in relaxed silence until the department door swings open.

Dennis Dimford, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, strides in followed by another man Sebastian doesn’t recognize.

“Sir,” Sebastian greets his boss with a nod.

“Morning, Sallow,” Dennis greets. “I want you to meet Theo Pemberley, our newest agent.”

Sebastian sizes up the new Auror, who looks to be about the same age, maybe a tad younger. He’s tall and handsome with dark hair and rich, brown eyes.

“Welcome,” Sebastian says politely as he extends a hand. “Pleased to have you aboard.”

“Great to be here,” Theo replies before he moves to greet Everett.

“You’ll meet the rest of the department later,” Dennis says. “Some of the other Aurors are out on assignment.”

It’s no more than twenty minutes later that you and your partner, Fiona McIntyre, return to the office, fresh off the takedown of a small poaching ring.

Theo notices you immediately. He watches as Dennis commends you and Fiona for your arrests before you fall into conversation with Sebastian at his desk. Fiona eyes Theo in amusement before she crosses the room to introduce herself to him, where he stands next to Everett.

“Who is that?” Theo asks, his stare lingering on you.

“Who?”

“Talking to Sebastian.”

Fiona blinks at him. “You mean Everett hasn’t told you?” she asks.

“Told me what?”

Fiona catches Everett’s eye before the corners of her lips threaten to tug upward in a discreet smirk. “Oh, nothing,” she says quickly. “I just thought someone would’ve introduced you to our best officer.”

“Hey, what about me?” Everett demands, drawing an eyeroll from Fiona. 

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” she says to Theo, who follows her in earnest toward Sebastian’s desk. “Oi, this is-”

“Theo,” Theo cuts in with far too much gusto, his hand extended toward you eagerly. You smile kindly and shake it, offering him your first name. Neither of you notice the scowl that has settled across Sebastian’s features as he gazes up at you. “I hear you’re the best officer here,” Theo continues. He beams at you, his tall frame exuding confidence, but you detect the desire glinting in his eyes.

“Don’t let Sebastian hear you say that,” you joke, sneaking a glance at Sebastian who narrows his eyes at you. 

“Ah, a little friendly competition is good,” Theo laughs much too loudly. “Best if we can all keep each other on our toes.” His eyes meet yours. “I’d love to give you a run for your money.”

“I bet you would,” you muse before Dennis interrupts to debrief your recent assignment.

By lunch time, Sebastian has sternly decided he doesn’t like Theo, who has spent the entire morning chatting you up in an attempt to impress you. He tells you about his time in America, where he “single-handedly shut down a notorious trafficking ring,” and he swears he was top of his class at Durmstrang, where he was also captain of his quidditch team. He even motions you over to his desk, where he has displayed a framed photo of himself holding a silver trophy. 

You can practically see a vein protruding from Sebastian’s neck in irritation. It makes you want to keel over with laughter. Instead, you wait until your colleagues prepare to head out to grab lunch.

“Aren’t you coming?” Theo asks when he notices you still at your desk.

“Not this time,” you answer apologetically. “Sebastian and I have some case logs to file. We’ve been neglecting them for weeks.”

Fiona shoots you a knowing smile, which you choose to ignore. Meanwhile, Theo continues to frown at you. 

“Oh, come on,” he pleads. “A department lunch outing wouldn’t be right without its best officer. Besides, isn’t the entire point for us all to get to know each other better? I’d like to get to know you.”

You can hear Sebastian crack his knuckles beneath his desk. 

“Next time, I promise,” you say. 

You and Sebastian watch as the group files out the door. Once it snaps shut, you turn to look at Sebastian, who sits at the desk next to yours. You snort at his miffed expression.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Seb,” you tease. It’s an outright lie. Because jealousy actually looks quite good on him, and it’s making you grateful to have the office to yourselves.

“I’m not jealous!” Sebastian insists, drawing another laugh from you. He leans back in his chair, his long legs outstretched while he pouts at you with crossed arms. “Besides, you’re the one indulging that prat’s pitiful attempts at flirting.”

“I am not indulging him!” you laugh incredulously. “Sebastian, I haven’t done anything to indicate any interest in him. Don’t be delusional.”

“You could have told him you’re married,” Sebastian points out. 

“It’s not my fault he made assumptions,” you retort. 

“No, but you could have shut him down the second he latched on to you.”

“Oh, come on,” you laugh. “What did you want me to do, Seb, introduce myself with, ‘Hello, nice to meet you. I’m married, so please piss off?’”

“No, but you could have mentioned you’re Mrs. Sallow. Or you could wear your ring.”

“You don’t wear yours.”

Sebastian huffs and you smirk in triumph. Though the two of you have been married for two years, you made a mutual agreement not to wear your wedding rings while on the job, for the sake of each other’s safety.

Sebastian’s annoyed state is comical above all else, but it’s also endearing. You get it. You can’t say you’ve never been triggered by the pretty girls who eye your husband in passing, the ones who giggle and blush in hopes of drawing his attention. You want to hex them all the way to Marunweem.

But deep down, you and your husband have a mutual understanding that the two of you will always be the same kindred spirits you’ve been since the day you met. 

Still, you can’t help but stoke the flames, just a little.

“Seb, relax. Remember our agreement? You can’t keep a level head at work when you’re jealous of the new hire,” you tease.

“I’m not jealous!” Sebastian insists again. “I just don’t want some prat thinking he can move in on my wife.”

“He’s harmless,” you assure. “Besides, he isn’t here right now, is he? No one is.”

Sebastian’s eyes don’t soften, but they change; shifting from dark aggravation to dark desire. It’s not the first time the two of you have taken advantage of an empty office.

Sebastian stands, his desk chair scraping audibly across the marble floor before he steps toward you. He spins your desk chair around so that you’re facing him, his tall frame looming over you. Placing one hand on each arm of the chair, he slowly leans forward, bending at the waist until his face is an inch from yours.

“I’m going to remind you of your last name… Mrs. Sallow,” he says with malicious eyes. 

You think he’s going to press a kiss to your lips but instead he finds the sensitive patch of your neck. Your eyes fall shut and your shoulders relax immediately. 

His lips apply more pressure to your flesh but his hands are gentle as they graze the curves of your waistline. You can feel goosebumps peppering your arms when Sebastian sinks to his knees in front of you. He holds your gaze as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Sebastian-” you start, but he’s already bunching your skirt up, his lips pressing a trail of kisses from the tops of your knees to your thighs. You shift in your seat.

Sebastian’s mouth ghosts over your covered entrance, choosing to instead kiss the crease of your thigh. You chew your bottom lip in anticipation.

“Still thinking about that oaf Theo?” Sebastian asks.

You huff in annoyance. “Sebastian, I only just met him. I couldn’t care less about him.”

“Seems like you enjoyed the attention from him.”

“Seems like you’re still mental.”

“I’ll show you mental.”

Sebastian edges a finger into the crotch of your panties to pull them aside and you hold your breath. It releases when you feel his tongue dart across your clit. He sucks gently against it until he holds his tongue there, applying wet pressure that forces a moan from you.

The chair creaks as you push your hips forward. Sebastian hums in approval.

“Any doubts of who your husband is now?” he asks.

“N-no,” you pant, desperate for more. Sebastian barks a laugh, his breath sending vibrations across your cunt that make your thigh muscles tense. 

“Like that?”

“Sebastian, please-”

His tongue flattens and rolls against your clit and you choke on a moan. Your hands end up in his hair, the pads of your fingertips pressing into his scalp in a subconscious plea for more, more, more.

Sebastian obliges you. His tongue drags, pulls, presses and prods until your back is arching and your hips are lifting off the chair. He uses one arm to hold you down, pinning your thigh to the chair as you squirm beneath him with labored breaths.

His tongue drags searing patterns over your clit until he uses it to spell out S-A-L-L-O-W. You're none the wiser, but he smirks against your glistening flesh.

When you finally break, you whimper. Sebastian’s tongue sends a jolt through your nerve endings. It folds you in half, doubling you over as the ripples pulse across your cunt. Sebastian continues, his hands holding you down as his tongue works you through your release until you finally crumple backward in the chair, breathless and flushed.

Sebastian sits back on his heels to admire his work. 

“That better be all for me,” he says as he eyes your soaked entrance. He presses one final swift kiss to your clit, forcing you to inhale sharply from the sensitivity, before he returns to his feet. “Doubt Theo would know what to do with all that anyway.”

“Sebastian, shut up about Theo and fuck me,” you snap. It draws a long, pitchy cackle from him.

“That’s better,” he coos, his eyes cloudy with arousal. He extends a hand to help you to your feet before his arms snake around your waist. “Ready to come again for me soon?” he murmurs in your ear as his erection presses against your stomach. Your core clenches as if it’s ready to welcome his cock.

“Please.”

Sebastian leans in for a long, slow kiss. It dredges up the filthiest thoughts inside your mind until you’re fisting the front of his shirt in desperation.

Your hands begin to unfasten his belt but he stops you, his eyes indicating he has something else in mind. He backs you away from your desk, guiding you backward until you realize he’s steering you to Theo’s.

“You’re evil,” you muse when your thighs meet the edge of the desk.

“It’s his own fault,” Sebastian notes. “This is as close as he’s getting to my wife.”

He lifts you onto the desk, your legs dangling from the ledge as he stands between them. He peels your panties down and pushes your skirt back up before he removes his own trousers. His cock is so hard, it looks damn near painful to you.

You reach for Sebastian to drape your arms around his neck as he steps closer to kiss you again. Your legs wrap around his torso and you can feel his cock prodding against your thigh. Sebastian guides it to your folds and smirks at the anticipation in your eyes.

“What’s got you all wet, darling?” he teases. You narrow your eyes at him and he nudges the tip of his cock inside of you. He pauses to watch your arousal pool around his shaft until he sinks further inside to the hilt. You moan in his ear. He thrusts into you with a slow and steady rhythm first, holding you close until he can feel your walls squeezing around him.

“Lay back,” he orders. “I want to remember this sight.”

You obey, resting back on your elbows for support as you watch Sebastian pull back to glide the tip of his drenched cock over your clit. He teases you with it until his own resolve breaks and he pushes himself back inside your cunt. His hands snap to your hips to hold you in place while he rocks, his cock prodding through your plush walls until you can feel the familiar, delicious pressure swelling.

The desk scrapes over the floor and you’re grateful Theo has yet to add much to it, the framed photo of him and his trophy the only decor on the desktop. Sebastian slams into you until the frame topples over. The sound of its clatter is quickly replaced by the sounds of your slick union. 

“You’re so fucking good,” Sebastian groans. “Can’t believe I get to call you my wife.” He juts his hips for emphasis over the last word, his cock driving upward into the sensitive, spongy spot that makes your walls threaten to release. It feels so good your elbows give out, leaving you flat on your back, your legs hooked around Sebastian as he remains determined to ruin you.

You clench your cunt as you toe the edge of your peak, Sebastian’s name spilling from your lips amid a string of obscenities. Your nails dig into the top of the wood desk until the strain inside your walls snaps, igniting your hard climax. Your walls throb around Sebastian’s cock while you cry out, panting and gasping over the sensation rippling through your core. 

Sebastian swears loudly as the sight of you submitting to your orgasm consumes him, igniting a twitch across his cock until he’s spilling inside you. He continues to thrust through his groans and grunts until he can watch himself pour from your entrance. 

“Fucking hell,” he growls as he eyes the aftermath. Meanwhile, you remain on your back, your legs now swinging from the edge of the desktop as your husband admires your fucked out form.

The desktop suddenly feels cool and you sit up, your post-orgasm haze making your vision hazy until the room tilts into clear view.

“Alright?” Sebastian asks. You can’t help but shoot him a look and he smirks. “Thought so.”

You roll your eyes at him as you stand and fix your clothing while Sebastian fiddles with the buckle of his belt. 

“You’re blowing this Theo thing way out of proportion,” you note as you smooth the fabric of your skirt. 

“Maybe,” Sebastian says with a shrug, his hands casually stuffed in his pockets as he strides toward his desk. He leans against the edge of it, arms folded across his chest as he smirks. “But it was worth it.”

“Except now we’ve missed lunch,” you whine.

“We can get you something from the food cart in the lobby,” Sebastian says just as your colleagues return to the office, chatting animatedly and none the wiser to your activities – except Fiona, who wiggles her eyebrows at you in accusation. You shrug at her as Theo heads straight toward you.

“Get all your work done?” he asks.

“Definitely got some work done,” Sebastian quips from his chair. You shoot him a stern look and he flashes his canines at you.

“How was your lunch?” you ask Theo politely.

“Brilliant,” he replies. “Would have been better if you’d come along.”

You open your mouth to reply when Fiona calls, “Oi! Sallow!” from across the room.

“What?” you and Sebastian both answer in unison.

Theo blinks at you, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Sebastian in surprise.

“Wait,” he says. “Sallow? Your last name is Sallow too?”

“Aye, it is,” Sebastian answers for you. He rises slowly and deliberately to his feet, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my wife and I are going to grab something to eat.”

He takes your hand and leads you toward the door as Theo watches with wide eyes and an open jaw.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Yay, thank you for the tag @dreamy-gal-30! Bea is so damn cute. Can't wait to take some time to catch up on your fic. 💕

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[whizzing-fizzbee]

I Crumble Completely When You Cry.

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, language); all characters are adults Words: ~3,000 Tags: shameless smut, minimal plot, established relationship, long distance relationship, oral sex, p in v sex, no beta

Summary: You haven't seen or heard from your so-called boyfriend, Sebastian Sallow, in six months as he's been away on a secret work assignment for the Ministry. When he returns unexpectedly, he makes up for his absence.

Notes: Oh, hey there! I finally found a smidge of time to write something. It's just a small, random dose of shameless smut. I'm rather rusty so please go easy on me. Characters are early-20s post-Hogwarts adults. Story is loosely inspired by "505" by Arctic Monkeys.

Read below the cut.

It’s funny how the oppressive summer heat can give nights like this a sense of near-whimsy, you decide as you trudge home. It’s been a grueling day. Because for every hot summer night, there’s a hot summer day. And those bring out the worst in people.

There was the woman who tried to poison her cheating husband with an herbicide potion. There was the man who fell 50 feet while testing a homemade autopilot device on his broomstick. Then there was the 10-year-old who consumed three-dozen chocolate frogs and couldn’t stop vomiting.

You’d never been so relieved to leave St. Mungo’s.

Now, your sights are set on a bubble bath and a glass of firewhiskey before you sink into bed and forget the world.

It’s been a long day, but an even longer six months. But you were trying desperately to cast those thoughts from your mind. You’re not going to think about that – or him – you decide as you climb the stairs to your flat on the fifth floor. It feels like a particularly long and agonizing ascent to door number 505.

Despite the muggy summer air, you’re thrilled to watch your bathtub fill with suds as steam begins to cling to the bathroom mirror. It’s an escape, albeit a rather mundane one.

You shed your work robes and sink slowly into the water, your eyes falling shut in relief. The aroma of lavender and the gentle hiss of the foamy bubbles become your focus. You don’t hear the quiet footsteps. You don’t see the gentle swing of the door as it cracks open.

You exhale, your rigid shoulders finally starting to relax and your jaw finally ready to unclench when all your chances at a quiet evening are stolen from you.

“Careful,” a voice says from the doorway. “You don’t want to fall asleep in the tub again.”

The air departs your lungs as your eyes snap open and you flinch. The sharp movement sinks you lower into the bathtub until you’re coughing and sputtering soapy water, your hands grasping for the sides of the tub. It doesn’t matter; even when you regain control of your body, you’re speechless.

Your gaze meets a familiar brown stare and a lopsided smirk full of amusement. Touseled hair and freckles are also there to remind you of all the things you’ve been trying to forget.

He waits patiently for you to speak, his stare silently gauging your expression. You feel sick to your stomach. The battle within your brain rages to a full-on war. You’re torn between feelings of relief to see him again, anxiety from his unannounced presence, and fury over his months-long absence.

“Sebastian,” you finally manage, desperate to stifle any notion of surprise or excitement. 

“Darling,” he coos. You want to pummel him with bare fists, no magic necessary.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, suddenly aware of your vulnerable state. Much of the bubbles floating atop the water have dissipated amid your coughing and flailing. You cross your arms in a combined attempt to cover yourself and assert your disdain.

“It’s been six months,” Sebastian says. “I expected a warmer welcome than this.”

“Six months with no visits, no owls, no hint of your existence,” you retort. You hate the aggravation that accompanies your tone, but you can’t help yourself. 

“I couldn’t, darling,” he answers. “You know that.”

“You could have sent me something,” you fight back. “Something, anything. Some sort of sign.” 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Sebastian sighs as he steps closer. Your shoulders tense instantly and you hold your breath as he kneels next to the tub. You can feel his eyes sweep across the water’s surface. There’s much to see – not that he hasn’t seen it all before. “I couldn’t risk it," he continues. "There was a new cabal of dark wizards – really dangerous ones – and we didn’t have much intel on them. But we knew they’d killed an innocent family in Bulgaria. I couldn’t risk them coming for you.”

“I can hold my own, Sebastian,” you say dryly. 

“I know you can, Hero of Hogwarts,” Sebastian says, hoping his use of the nickname you hate might lighten the mood. “But still, if they came for you, I wouldn’t have been able to get to you and I- I just couldn’t put you at risk. I wanted to reach out – you know it was killing me – but I couldn’t tell you anything.”

Deep down, you know he’s right. You know he’d die to protect you. And you know you’d do the same.

But all of the anger you’ve pent up for six months without him is far too potent to cast away now. 

“And so what did you expect, Sebastian?” you snap. “You thought you were just going to waltz back in here and we’d pretend everything’s fine?”

“Everything is fine, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes finally filling with concern.

“No!” you cry. “Sebastian, you left for six months without a word. Just a quick note with no details. You could have been dead all this time and I wouldn’t have known. You could have run off with some veela. You could have joined… them.”

“You really think I’d do that?” Sebastian breathes. He’s hurt and he’s stunned that you – the one person who has always stood by him and believed in him – could make such an accusation. You regret the words the moment they leave your lips.

“I don’t know, Sebastian,” you sigh. “...No, I don’t. But I didn’t know where you were, what you were doing, who you were with-”

“Unless you think Xander MacMillan is a veela, I can promise you it was nothing like that,” Sebastian interrupts with another attempt at easing the tension. 

“And did Xander leave home without a word to anyone?” you demand. “Did he tell anyone he was vanishing on an assignment for half a year?”

“I… I mean, Xander doesn’t really have anyone,” Sebastian admits. 

“But you do, Sebastian,” you note. “Ominis and I have been worried sick. And Anne – what if Anne finally tried to reach out? What would we tell her?”

“Did she?”

“What?”

“Anne. Did she reach out?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that you have people who care about you, Sebastian!” you exclaim. Your frustration has breached its dam as hot tears finally stream down your cheeks. You hate this. You were so determined to appear strong and unbothered by Sebastian’s return. You hated it when he saw you cry.

Sebastian crumbles the instant he spots your tears. It’s a gut punch he’s never quite managed to take. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, his arms finally reaching for you. It’s the gesture that finally breaks you. You sob into your own hands, the ridges of your spine shaking as you hunch forward to cry. “I’m so sorry,” Sebastian repeats. His arms tighten around you and you’re too spent to resist.

Sebastian rests his forehead against your temple to whisper another string of apologies in your ear. He gently pets your hair, an act he knows has always helped calm you down. But now, you feel more like a stray dog that’s been kicked aside.

“I can’t fucking do this,” you sob, sniffling in a manner you can only describe as pathetic. “Sebastian, I can’t keep loving you when I’m always waiting for you.”

“I know,” Sebastian whispers soothingly. “I know. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“You can’t promise that!” you snap, daring to look at him through glassy eyes. You glare at him to emphasize your annoyance with his lies.

“I’ll figure it out,” Sebastian insists. “Really, I will. I’ll stop taking these kinds of assignments. There are plenty more aurors in the department. It doesn’t have to be me.”

“But none of them are as good as you.”

“Then they’ll just have to catch up.”

You allow silence to follow as you mull his promise over and wonder how much validity it carries. Sebastian doesn’t lie to hurt you. And despite five years of dangerous and cryptic work as an auror, he’d always fought to keep you. You were his most important mission.

“Please,” you whisper, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath. Your cheeks sting from the tears. “Please, just… just no more disappearances. I just need to know you’re okay.”

“Deal,” Sebastian says before he presses a kiss to your temple. He holds you in silence for a moment, his sunken heart starting to return to his chest, though the guilt was still eroding him. “Let me make it up to you,” he murmurs.

“How?”

He kisses you slowly, one hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut and your remaining remnants of resistance wane. You’re no longer angry. You’re relieved to have him back.

When Sebastian pulls away, he rises to his feet and extends a hand to you. “Come on,” he says. “Let me take care of you.”

You oblige and let him help you step from the tub, where he drapes you in a towel. Before you can exit the bathroom, he hooks an arm around your waist to pull you in close.

“I missed you,” he mumbles against your lips. 

“I can tell.”

He smirks at your response and tugs the towel away. It forms a heap on the wet floor and Sebastian nudges you toward the bathroom counter. When your ass presses against the ledge, he lifts you up to sit, your legs dangling as he leans in to kiss you again.

He falls to his knees in front of you.

You watch through half-lidded eyes as he places a trail of kisses from your kneecaps toward your inner thigh. He meets your gaze as he continues, and you’re left staring back at him as his mouth meets your cunt.

You inhale sharply at his touch, your mounting arousal making your entrance wet with much more than bath water. Sebastian’s tongue drags between your folds to your clit, where he traces patterns until a chorus of moans falls from your lips.

It’s a delicious friction you haven’t felt since the night prior to his departure six months ago. It’s euphoric and nostalgic, but it’s also a sign you don’t have long until you’re falling apart.

“Sebastian,” you whine as the pressure swells. Your legs are now draped over his shoulders and you have one hand tangled in his hair as you fight the urge to buck and grind your hips in a frenzy.

Sebastian sucks on your clit until the obscene sounds are bouncing off the tiled bathroom walls. You whimper and writhe against the countertop until you can feel yourself on the cusp of the release you’ve needed for months. Your breaths become quick, short huffs until you’re humming in anticipation. 

One final nudge of Sebastian’s tongue sends you spiraling, your thighs shaking and back arching as you come. He works you through it, his tongue lapping at your soaked cunt until the pulses coursing through your nerve endings subside. It leaves you gasping for air, your hair plastered to your sweaty, flushed face.

Sebastian returns to a standing position and offers you a grin. His erection is straining in his trousers, but you’re preoccupied as you wonder if you’ll ever walk again. 

He stands between your legs to kiss you, remnants of your arousal heavy on his lips. The sensitivity of your post-orgasm haze has you feeling faint and you’re suddenly desperate to get out of the hot bathroom.

“I need you to fuck me,” you whisper as Sebastian kisses your neck. He’s happy to oblige.

He pulls you closer until your legs are wrapped around his torso to carry you to the bedroom. He places you on the bed and you sit on the edge to help him undress. You can’t unbuckle his belt quick enough, clanking the metal apart before you shove his trousers to the floor. 

Once he’s naked, Sebastian stands over you, his hard cock begging to be used. He leans over to brush his lips gently against yours.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he rasps in your ear. 

You lick your lips as you stare back at him. “Whatever’s going to convince you to stay.”

His hand tangles itself in your hair in an instant, forcing you flat on your back. “I want to see you,” Sebastian says as he stands between your knees. You don’t have time to respond before he’s lining the tip of his cock against your entrance. You chew your bottom lip in anticipation.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he hisses as he sinks into you. The pressure is maddening. It’s been months since you felt it and now you can’t believe you managed to go so long without it. “Fuck, I missed this.”

Your fists curl around the bed quilt as Sebastian’s hips slam into yours. Your walls stretch around his cock and you will your body to adjust to the intrusion. It’s much more fulfilling than your own fingers. 

“God, Sebastian,” you whine. He presses a thumb to your clit and draws lazy circles, pulling a loud moan from you. 

“Just as good as I remembered,” Sebastian says as he finds a steady pace. His eyes fall shut as he cherishes how it feels to be buried inside you again. He reopens them to admire your body – the way your breasts bounce with every thrust, the way your greedy cunt swallows his cock, the look of desperation plastered across your face. Sebastian would commit it all to memory if he wasn’t so sure he’d never leave you for more than a few days again.

The only vision missing is the way you look when you finally fall apart around his cock. He pulls your legs around him tighter, lifting your hips higher to drive his cock into your front wall. It pushes and pulls your sweet spot until you unleash a sequence of swear words to indicate your nearing release. A few more swipes of Sebastian’s thumb nudges you there.

You shriek as your orgasm rolls through your walls, sending you thrashing beneath Sebastian. He drives his cock inside you again for good measure, thrusting until the surge in slickness causes it to pop out. 

“You’re so fucking good,” Sebastian says as he crawls onto the bed. “I want you on top of me.”

Most times, you might protest in effort to catch your breath and recover. But six months of celibacy followed by those two orgasms has left you far too cock drunk to deprive yourself tonight.

You crawl on top of Sebastian, who studies your frame with affection. He grits his teeth as you guide his cock back to its rightful place and lower yourself around him. Sebastian’s hands snap to your hips and you know he isn’t long for this ride. After all, he’s had to wait six months, too.

You rock forward to ensure he’s filled you entirely, your palms flat on his chest. Even after two orgasms, you still feel impossibly tight around him and his cock twitches, threatening to give in to the pressure soon.

You lift your hips and dip downward again, gliding around his shaft until he’s groaning. You squeeze your walls tight, desperate to induce one more release of your own before Sebastian’s. He whimpers and you can’t help but smirk at the power you hold over the great Sebastian Sallow. It energizes you, leaving you bouncing on his hips until his cock threatens to trigger another orgasm within you.

“Fuck, Sebastian,” you pant, your hair now a wild mess and your skin shimmering with sweat. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the pressure within your core. You’re so, so close, but so is Sebastian. You can sense it in his tightening grip on your hips. But you decide you’re allowed to be greedy, just this once, given the six months of hell he’s put you through.

You shift slightly until you can slam your hips downward, forcing Sebastian’s cock into your plush center until your walls begin to flutter. One final bounce triggers your last orgasm. It folds you in half, leaving you immobile as you slump over Sebastian, who's hanging on for dear life. The last, lingering twitches of your walls coax his cock into its own release and he grunts, fingers digging hard into your flesh as he spills inside you. 

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian groans in your ear. You’re still plastered on top of him, unsure you can move and unwilling to do so anyway. He reaches upward to push your hair from your face and grins at you. “I knew you missed me,” he teases.

Despite your exhausted, fucked out state, you manage to glare downward at him. “Don’t make me regret my decision to forgive you.”

Sebastian chuckles and twists a strand of your hair lazily around his index finger. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. You finally roll off of him and he hooks an arm around your waist to pull you close. A peaceful silence settles between you until he clears his throat. “So is now a bad time to mention I’m leaving for China soon?”

His words force you upright and you turn to look at him with narrow eyes. He laughs and reaches to pull you back down into his arms.

“I’m only joking,” he says. “Actually, I’m going to the Italian Riviera.”

“Sebastian, I-”

“I was thinking you could come, too.”

“Me?” you snort. “Sebastian, I can’t accompany you on a work assignment. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re right,” Sebastian muses, one hand playing with your hair again. “But you could accompany me on a honeymoon.”

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Something Blue

Summary: Anne Sallow hasn't spoken to her brother Sebastian in five years, since that fateful day in the Feldcroft Catacomb. She has no plans on reconciling with him... until she receives an invitation to his wedding.

Rating: General (just a little bit of angst) Words: ~4,700

Notes: Hi! I am so sorry for my absence -- I know I keep saying I'll be back soon, but I recently received a promotion at work that has kept me busy as hell. Annnnyway, I have no idea what this is -- it's a bit different from my usual Seb smut, but it just sort of spilled itself into a Google Doc and here we are. And have no fear, I'm slowly but surely writing more of my usual work. I love you all, and hope to engage with everyone more soon!

Read below the cut. (Might throw on Ao3 later if people like it.)

The Janus Thickey Ward of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was still. It was always quiet compared to the hospital’s other floors, which brimmed with all the chaos that accompanies magical misfortunes.

Anne Sallow thumbed through the morning’s Daily Prophet, her eyes scanning its pages for something interesting to read. Another quidditch scandal involving the Wimbourne Wasps, wedding announcements, some story about a witch who survived a kelpie attack. All mundane, if you asked Anne.

Finally, a photo just below the fold on the front page caught Anne’s eye. She froze as she recognized one of its subjects, her eyes staring at the familiar freckled face. Her brother. 

A headline that read, “Ministry Auror Makes Major Arrests in Muggle Murders” was just below the photo, in which Sebastian Sallow could be seen accompanying two figures robed in dark cloaks. Sebastian’s wand was out, pointed between the two wizards, as he smirked proudly. Anne’s eyes fell to the article that accompanied the photo. 

LONDON – Two notorious wizards are behind bars Tuesday after a months-long tracking operation. Wolfgang Muller, 34, and Lina Antunovic, 29, were taken into custody Monday night, according to the Ministry of Magic.

Officials said the pair were wanted for the murders of 13 muggles that occurred in London over a six-month span. They were also allegedly an integral part of the international illegal poaching operation that was disbanded in Munich last month.

Officer Sebastian Sallow, who arrested other leaders of the poaching ring, apprehended Muller and Antunovic inside an abandoned church outside of Chiswick. No serious injuries were reported.

“The Ministry of Magic is relieved to announce the arrests of two of the wizarding world’s most dangerous criminals,” Minister of Magic Faris Spavin said in a statement issued Monday. “The Ministry is particularly grateful for Officer Sallow and his exceptional work and dedication to keeping the wizarding community safe.”

Muller and Antunovic will be tried separately in the Wizengamot next month.

Anne’s lips thinned. Another remarkable achievement by her estranged brother. Her chest swelled with pride for him, but her heart ached because she couldn’t tell him so.

Anne hadn’t seen or spoken with her brother in five years; not since that fateful day when his descent into dark magic drove him to commit the ultimate unforgivable crime. He’d killed their Uncle Solomon and altered their lives forever.

Though Ominis Gaunt eventually convinced Anne to keep quiet about Sebastian’s actions, she ultimately decided the only fair trade for such a sinister secret was to shun Sebastian for life.

She left Feldcroft and checked into St. Mungo’s as a long-term patient. They kept her comfortable there. The alchemists even offered to work on an elixir that could someday cure her curse. Anne accepted with masked apprehension. But as soon as Sebastian found out she was staying there, he tried to reach her. She had his name added to the hospital’s security list, banning him from visiting her. She also refused all of his letters.

Anne wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive her brother for what he’d done. She had begged him to stop his pursuit for her cure and insisted she had come to terms with her fate. But Sebastian, ever the stubborn one, didn’t know when to stop.

Even his letters showed up for years, arriving on a monthly basis that Anne soon learned to expect. She turned them all away and told the Healers to have them destroyed. Instead, she kept tabs on her brother from afar, whenever an article about his achievements popped up in the newspaper.

So as Anne gazed at the photo of her brother, looking so honorable, so impressive, her heartstrings twisted in agony, torn between his efforts at redemption and his inexcusable past. 

She folded the paper and shuffled it into the top drawer of her nightstand.

Two days later, an elegant envelope arrived at her bedside. Anne didn’t recognize the handwriting and there was no return address. Curiously, she peeled the seal apart and removed a sheet of thick, cream-colored cardstock printed with distinguished gold, glimmering letters.

Miss Madeline Gaines & Mr. Sebastian Sallow kindly request your attendance for their upcoming nuptials. Saturday, June 9, 3 o’clock in the afternoon. St. James’s Church, Piccadilly, London.

Anne didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until her lungs began to burn. She inhaled sharply to relieve them, her eyes scanning the invitation for a second, then a third time. There was no note with the invitation but Anne knew it was Madeline’s doing.

Sebastian was getting married. Her twin brother was getting married, and it was to the pretty little Ravenclaw Anne had met a few times during their fifth year.

Anne would be lying if she said she liked the girl. Not that she’d concealed her disdain very well. In her defense, everything unraveled when that girl entered their lives.

Anne could tell Sebastian was smitten with Madeline from the start. When he visited Anne in Feldcroft one afternoon, his eyes lit up the moment he began to talk about Madeline. He raved about her brilliance, how she demolished him during a duel on the first day of classes, and how she had taken down a troll in Hogsmeade. He spoke of her like she possessed some sort of captivating power he’d never seen before. As it turned out, that power was love.

When Madeline came to Feldcroft, she was kind and curious about the Sallow family. At first, Anne thought it might be good for Sebastian to have another friend. Her decline in health and absence from Hogwarts weighed heavily on her brother, leaving him with only Ominis Gaunt to confide in.

But Anne’s faith in Sebastian’s new friend quickly faltered. First, it became clear that Madeline was Anne’s replacement. When Anne found out from Ominis that Sebastian had shown the new girl the Undercroft, she was irate. And then, Ominis’ stance on Madeline also began to soften. He also found her intriguing, much to Anne’s annoyance. So as stories of Madeline spending time with Sebastian and Ominis became more commonplace during their Feldcroft visits, Anne developed a dislike toward Madeline.

Of course, her dislike morphed to something much more loathsome when it became clear that Madeline was a bad influence on Sebastian. The closer they became, the lower Sebastian sank toward the bottom of his moral being. And then Madeline helped him steal that stupid spellbook and wicked relic, which became the catalyst for Sebastian’s worst moment. 

So no, Anne wasn’t too fond of Madeline Gaines. And now they’d be sisters-in-law.

Still, Anne chewed at her bottom lip, the invitation still in hand. It was clear she was missing out on her brother’s life. What if she someday grew to regret that? Surely Sebastian would soon have a family of his own. Anne wouldn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to be an aunt. And to be utterly, excruciatingly honest, Sebastian was obviously living a much more productive life than she was. He had a flourishing career and a bride-to-be. Anne spent her days in a quiet hospital ward with fellow patients who didn’t even remember their own names.

What if she did attend the wedding? Was she ready to forgive Sebastian for what he’d done? Was she ready to reopen those old wounds that had never fully healed, but merely scabbed over?

But what if Sebastian hadn’t actually changed? What if his career and happy nuptials were merely a performative mask, meant to shield outsiders from learning the truth? What if he and Madeline were just as reckless, just as dangerous as they’d been five years ago? There was a chance Anne would regret reuniting with her brother. But there was an even bigger chance she’d regret missing out on any more of his life’s monumental moments.

—

June 9 arrived and so did Anne. She showed up to the church nearly an hour before the ceremony was set to start. She didn’t know why. Perhaps it was nerves, or the excitement of seeing Sebastian after five years. But as she approached the grand cathedral, its stained glass windows sparkling in the summer sun, she hesitated at the front gate. 

What if she wasn’t meant to show up that day? What if Sebastian didn’t want her there? What if Madeline had been misguided in her decision to send that invitation? After all, this was their day, not Anne’s. Though she still held ill feelings toward Sebastian and Madeline, she didn’t want to dampen their wedding day.

Soon, guests started to arrive and Anne realized she’d been lingering in front of the church for a good 20 minutes. She swallowed and filed inside, its heavy oak doors creaking open to admit her.

The church was quiet, save for the sounds of chatty guests and an abrasive bridesmaid who was barking orders as a string quartet set up near the front of the church. It took a moment for Anne to realize it was Imelda Reyes. 

The sight of her former housemate sent a surge of panic through Anne’s nerves. She’d spent weeks thinking about how it’d feel to reconnect with Sebastian. She hadn’t considered how it would feel to see her old friends and classmates again. What if they were cross with her? What if they judged her for abandoning her brother? Anne assumed that was how the tale was spun, given that no one but Ominis knew the truth about the nature of her sudden departure.

Still, Anne was struck by a wave of nostalgia as she watched Imelda tease a man with red hair that had to be none other than Garreth Weasley. She realized she had missed these people. They’d once been a part of her daily life and she never even said goodbye.

Perhaps they all thought she was dead. Perhaps they hadn’t given Anne another thought.

Unsure how to handle the inevitable entrance into the nave of the church, Anne hovered in the front hall until a shriek of laughter echoed from a nearby corridor. Curiosity got the best of Anne, who was still stalling her entry toward the pews anyway. She wandered into the corridor, where a trio of doors stood open. 

The sounds of giggles and gushing voices carried from the first door on the right. Anne wandered toward it, creeping quietly to avoid drawing any attention to herself. She peeked around the doorframe and stilled.

Madeline stood at the center of the room as she gazed into a floor-length mirror. Her lace gown draped from her hips to the floor, where a modest train pooled at her feet. Her dark hair was pinned up and her lips were a soft shade of coral. Anne had always thought she was pretty but now, she was positively stunning. 

To Madeline’s right, Anne recognized Natsai Onai and Poppy Sweeting wearing matching champagne-colored gowns. The trio were laughing over Madeline’s veil, which clung to her behind rather than draping delicately over her frame as intended.

Anne couldn’t help but smile to herself at the warmth and energy within the room. She wondered if she would have been a part of this moment had she stayed in Sebastian’s life. Would she and Madeline have become friends? Would she have been the first to know when Sebastian and Madeline were engaged? Would Sebastian have asked Anne for her opinion on an engagement ring? Would Anne have been the one to help Madeline pick out a wedding dress?

There was no use dwelling on what could have been, but the notion left a sharp pang in Anne’s chest. Maybe writing Madeline off and missing out on these important moments had been a mistake.

“Oh Maddie,” Poppy sighed. “Seb is going to die when he sees you. I’ve never seen a more stunning bride.”

“You don’t think the dress is too much?” Madeline wondered. “It’s a bit ostentatious compared to my usual style.”

“Maddie, it’s your wedding day,” Natsai noted. “If there were ever a day to dress up, this is it. Poppy’s right, Sebastian’s going to keel over.”

Anne smirked at the thought of her brother seeing his bride. Something made her chest swell with pride. Maybe her brother really had changed, and maybe his commitment to Madeline was another indication of the reparations he’d made for his past.

Still, Anne had always been the careful and calculated one. That hadn’t changed over the years and she was still apprehensive. Just because Sebastian and Madeline were getting married didn’t mean their crimes would be erased, nor did it even mean they’d moved past them. What if they were still dabbling with dark magic? What if Solomon’s death had merely been a gateway to more egregious acts?

As Anne mulled over all the possibilities, she suddenly realized Madeline’s wide eyes were staring into the mirror straight back at her. Anne froze, her entire body unable to make sense of what was happening. Her tongue became heavy, leaving her void of any words.

“Anne?” Madeline breathed. Anne swallowed and nodded silently, stepping into the room as Poppy and Natsai’s eyes grew wide. “You came,” Madeline said in disbelief. 

“I… I thought I might regret missing such a big moment in my brother’s life,” Anne managed. Her mouth was still cotton and her heart was still closed. She wanted to exude warmth, to embrace Madeline as her sister-in-law, but years of resentment don’t disintegrate in one mere moment.

“I’m glad you came.” Madeline seemed to have a mutual understanding of Anne’s hesitant behavior. After all, she’d dealt with a similar reception from Ominis at first. She had to earn his trust – and then his forgiveness. But she’d never had Anne’s trust to begin with.

“You look beautiful,” Anne offered. 

“Oh! Thank you,” Madeline beamed. “You look great yourself. That shade of blue suits you so well. It’s lovely, really.”

Anne smiled. It was a thin smile, but it was genuine. No one had complimented her appearance in years, and the pale blue dress she’d found for the occasion made her feel pretty for once. 

“Thank you,” she said.

An unwieldy pause settled over the room. Poppy and Natsai had been watching the exchange with bated breath, as if it were live theater. Madeline’s lips thinned for a moment as she mulled over her next words.

“Poppy, Natty, can you give us a minute?” she asked kindly. “Maybe you could check and make sure Imelda hasn’t hexed anyone?”

The two bridesmaids nodded, both flashing reassuring smiles at Anne before they filed from the room. 

Madeline moved from the mirror to sit on a sofa that had been shoved against a wall. She motioned for Anne to sit next to her and inhaled audibly.

“How… how are you?” Madeline asked cautiously, her eyes unable to meet Anne’s.

“I’m well,” Anne replied. She hoped her tone sounded civil. She didn’t want to be a cloud over Madeline’s wedding day, but she also found it difficult to simply cast the painful past from memory. “Still at St. Mungo’s,” Anne added. “No change in my condition, but I’m feeling okay most days.”

“That’s good to hear,” Madeline said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Anne said politely.

Anne shifted uncomfortably in her seat as a silence fell over them. She decided she should have planned better, should have rehearsed her words. She had intended to demand answers from Madeline, but as she sat and stared at the bride, she couldn’t help but soften her stance. 

Perhaps now wasn’t the time to discuss their turbulent past, Anne decided. But before she could ask Madeline how she was doing, Madeline looked up to catch her gaze.

“I’m so sorry for everything,” Madeline said quietly, her eyes unable to meet Anne’s. “I swear, I never wanted any of that to happen. I tried to stop Sebastian, tried to reason with him, but that relic… it held magic that was far too powerful and sinister. I had no idea it was affecting him like that.”

Anne nodded silently in acknowledgement, torn over her emotions. Part of her was still angry, still bitter. She still wanted to blame Madeline for Sebastian’s downward spiral. But she knew that wasn’t true. Sebastian made his own decisions, including the one to steal that stupid relic. And even if all that dark magic had spurred him to kill Solomon, it had still been his choice to venture into that realm in the first place. Sure, Madeline could have done more to stop him, or could have been more forthcoming with Anne and Ominis about Sebastian’s actions, but Anne knew Madeline had been way in over her head.

It wasn’t fair to keep blaming Madeline, Anne realized.

“Sebastian really is remorseful for everything,” Madeline continued. “He’s worked so hard to do all the right things. He hasn’t touched dark magic since fifth year. He’s a good man. He’s an Auror now-”

“I know,” Anne interjected gently. “I read The Prophet and I see him. I see all of the articles about his arrests and his work, and how respected he is at The Ministry.” Madeline smiled at the revelation, as if it confirmed that Anne still cared about her brother. “I’m proud of him,” Anne continued. “I’m proud of him but I’m still angry at him, if that makes sense.”

“I understand,” Madeline said. “I was angry with him for a long time, too. But I’ve seen how hard he’s worked, how sorry he is.” She shifted to face Anne more directly, her dress bunching around her in a pile of fabric. “I can’t tell you to forgive him and let him back in,” she continued. “I wouldn’t do that, because I respect your feelings. So all I’ll say is I’m sorry for my part in it. And I hope you’ll see the same man I do now. He’s a good person – a great person – and I’m so proud of who he’s become, Anne. He’s brilliant and he’s so deserving of the good things he has going in his life now. The only thing missing is his sister.” Madeline paused to study Anne carefully. “Nothing fills your void.”

Tears welled in Anne’s eyes. She hated crying. She’d hoped years of bitterness would have drained her internal well of tears, especially when it came to Sebastian, but she couldn’t help herself. Everyone else had grown and moved on from Solomon’s death. She was the only one who had allowed it to take root and twist itself into her heart.

Madeline smiled gently at Anne and offered her a handkerchief. “Sebastian’s getting ready with the groomsmen in a room off the far corridor,” she said. “I don’t mind making our guests wait a little longer if you’d like to go see him.”

Anne returned the smile in gratitude. “Thank you,” she said, rising to her feet but Madeline shook her head.

“No, thank you for coming,” she said as she also stood. “I know you didn’t do it for me, but I’m glad you did it for Sebastian.”

Anne paused to consider her words briefly. “It was for you, too. You make Sebastian happy,” she finally said. “And he deserves to be happy.”

Anne had never been one for hugs, but she welcomed Madeline’s embrace. Madeline felt like warm, welcome change from the cool, jaded veil Anne had adopted over the years. Anne decided she was happy to call her a sister-in-law.

The pair swapped one final smile before Anne retreated from the room in search of her brother.

But the warm feeling from her reconciliation with Madeline quickly evaporated as Anne strolled toward the opposite side of the church. What if Sebastian didn’t want her there? What if he had decided he didn’t need her in his life? What could she possibly say to him?

After all, the last time Anne saw her brother, he had just killed their uncle.

A chorus of male voices echoed from a room as Anne found another corridor. Her breathing became quicker and shorter, her heart threatening to slam against her ribcage as she lingered outside the door. 

A bout of laughter erupted from within the room, causing Anne to still. Was it really fair of her to interrupt her brother’s wedding day? But before she could make any decisions, the door swung open and Anne found herself face-to-face with Ominis Gaunt.

He froze immediately as the crimson tip of his wand alerted him to her presence. She didn’t need to announce herself. He recognized her instantly.

“You came,” he breathed, snapping the door shut behind himself.

“I… hi,” Anne managed. Ominis didn’t seem to have words, and it became clear to Anne that she had abandoned him, too. Worse, she had punished him for Sebastian’s actions.

“It’s great to see you,” Ominis finally said. The warmth in his features shredded the curtain of uncertainty between them and Anne couldn’t help but wrangle him into a hug, relieved to be in his presence again.

“I missed you,” she admitted once she released him. “And I’m sorry for not keeping in touch.”

“I understand,” Ominis said. “Things were… heavy.” 

Anne nodded in quiet agreement. Ominis turned back to the door and creaked it open. “Oi,” he called into the room. “Sebastian, can you come out here?”

“Are we starting already?” Sebastian’s voice asked.

“No, just come out here.”

Anne held her breath as the familiar tread of Sebastian’s footsteps could be heard across the wood floor, clunking in a rhythmic pace toward the door. Each step seemed to spike Anne’s pulse until she could feel it ringing in her head. The door creaked open wider and Sebastian appeared. “Ominis, if this is about Poppy, I told you to just man up and ask her to-”

Sebastian’s face paled as his gaze landed on Anne. He blinked in disbelief, shutting the door behind himself as his brain scrambled for a reaction.

“I’ll see you two in a bit,” Ominis said softly as he ducked back into the room. 

“You’re here,” Sebastian croaked. Anne’s guard was waning, sinking with every moment that Sebastian’s wide eyes stared back at her. But his sad puppy dog expression was reminiscent of that fateful day in the Feldcroft catacombs, right after he killed Solomon. It rocked her with the memories – the trauma – from that cataclysmic moment; the stench of death in the air, the light leaving Solomon’s eyes, the hope for a better future vacating Anne’s body. 

Her mouth filled with cotton. “I… how did you…” Sebastian stumbled.

“Madeline invited me,” Anne rasped.

“Oh. I didn’t know. I-”

“It’s okay, Sebastian.”

The twins stared at each for a beat that seemed to stretch for hours, taking in the other’s appearance as they both scrambled for the right words. Sebastian noticed that some color had returned to Anne’s complexion, in spite of the curse. Anne noticed that Sebastian had grown taller, his facial features now sharper as he had shed some of his boyish baby weight.

Anne decided she needed to be the first to speak. After all, she was the one who had appeared out of the blue to crash his wedding after years of cold silence.

“You look so handsome,” she said, smiling as she admired his suit.

“You look great, too. That shade of blue is nice,” Sebastian said. “St. Mungo’s… have they…”

“The alchemists are working on a cure,” Anne answered knowingly. “But there are, of course, no promises. But I’m comfortable there. And the more time I spend there, the more they can learn about me… about my curse, which brings them closer to a cure.”

Sebastian nodded in silence as he absorbed her words. He’d hoped she was going to reveal that she’d been cured. But to simply see her standing before him – alive – was enough.

“I… can’t believe you’re here,” he said, tears stinging his eyes. 

“Honestly, neither can I.”

Five years of unspoken words loomed over them. Both shouldered a cloud of clashing emotions; Sebastian, full of guilt, sorrow and shame; Anne, full of resentment, fear and apprehension. But Anne also carried her own guilt for punishing Sebastian for so long. They were only 15 when he killed Solomon, and he’d been driven by an adolescent desperation that could only be explained by a deep love and devotion to his twin. 

Another silence. And then, Anne took a deep, slow breath.

“Sebastian, I’m sorry,” she exhaled. Her twin blinked back at her.

“You’re sorry?” he repeated stupidly. “But… you didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, I did,” Anne said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I shut you out.”

“You had every reason to.”

“I did at first,” Anne agreed. “But I should’ve heard you out, should have considered how things change… how you’d change.”

“Anne, I’m so sorry for everything,” Sebastian said quickly. It felt eerily similar to Madeline’s apology, and had the context been lighter, Anne might have smiled at their similarity. Instead, Sebastian’s eyes shone with sorrow. “If I could go back and undo everything, I would. I never meant for things to get so out of hand.”

“I know.”

“I just… just wanted to help you, to take your pain away.”

“I know, Sebastian.”

“But that doesn’t excuse what I did. But I swear, I’ve done everything I can to make up for it. And I see things more clearly now. I would never, ever do anything like that again. And Madeline, she’s been there for me every step of the way. She’s so good for me, Anne, and-”

“Sebastian, I know.” Now Anne couldn’t help but smile at him. “I know. And I’m so proud of you.”

Sebastian crumbled at her words. A sob escaped his throat and the twins quickly embraced, Sebastian burying his face in Anne’s shoulder as five years of despair dissipated. He went limp in his sister’s arms, clinging to her to ensure she was real.

“I’ve missed you so much, Anne,” he sobbed. “So much has happened and all I’ve wanted was to share it all with you.”

That marked Anne’s turn to break. Her resentment toward her brother and his bad decisions was replaced with grief for the years she allowed them to lose. She was shredded by the guilt of denying her brother her precious time, especially when it could be cut short by life’s razor at any moment.

Anne was hit with the sharp clarity that life wasn’t black and white. Sebastian wasn’t black, marked by evil and malice, and Anne wasn’t white, innocent and pure simply because she’d never killed anyone. 

She realized her judgment of her brother had gone on long enough. They were still one in the same, despite their decisions to sin differently.

“I’m here now, Sebastian,” Anne said soothingly, though her own tears were streaming warm, stinging trails down her cheeks. “I never should have left you. I was hurt by what happened but I didn’t consider how hurt you were, too. Instead, I hurt us both.”

“Please don’t leave me again, Anne,” Sebastian begged. 

“I won’t, I promise.” Anne’s arms tightened around Sebastian and he did the same. Both were terrified to let go in case fate decided to insert itself between them again. But this time, Anne was determined to be there for her brother in all the ways he’d been for her.

Finally, the door behind them could be heard creaking open and Ominis reappeared. 

“Alright, you two?” he asked. Sebastian sniffled and Anne choked a laugh. 

“We’re fine,” she mused, her own nose running. “We just need to get a grip.”

“Better get it soon,” Ominis warned, though the smile across his lips revealed his elation at the reunion in front of him. “The ceremony was supposed to start 10 minutes ago. Lucky the bride is an understanding woman.”

“Even the most understanding has her limits,” Sebastian noted. “Best get going.” He turned to face Anne, his eyes still wet and his heart still swelling with happiness. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “It means everything.”

“I couldn’t miss it,” Anne answered. “I’ve missed enough these past five years. But most of all, I missed you.”

[whizzing-fizzbee]

saturday tag game

Thanks for the tag, @sloanesallow!

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currently reading: A Novel Love Story by Ashley Poston, and doing a slow re-read of Mansfield Park by Jane Austin...and a lot of fanfic 🤣

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[whizzing-fizzbee]

I am not dead! I am just a very overworked girly whose schedule gets crazy when the weather turns nice, and when her football team wins the Europa League 💪🏼🏆 (which is my way of saying I’ve been drunk since Wednesday)

I’m writing fic updates slowly but surely and I love you all!

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Just Once | Part II

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, language); all characters are 18+ Words: ~6,400 Tags: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, mutual pining, smut, sexual exploration

⬅️ Read Part I

Notes: I'm alive! I am so, so sorry it took me so long to write this! Work has been kicking my ass lately, but I deeply appreciate everyone who has read this -- it's been a blast to write!

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Sleep was futile. You tossed and turned for hours, but the more you squeezed your eyes shut, the more you found yourself clamping your thighs together in quiet agony. The thoughts of what Sebastian had done to you – done for you – replayed on a loop until your core ached for more.

You buried your face in your pillow with half the mind to smother yourself. Except you weren’t seeking death. If anything, you felt like you’d been enlightened to a new reason worth living. Perhaps most people would deem that silly and dramatic, but they hadn’t felt what you had.

You swallowed, your forehead hot and hair plastered to your face as you thought about Sebastian – the way his fingers pressed patterns of pulsing pleasure into your flesh; the way his calm eyes met yours in the mirror’s reflection with quiet determination; the way his attention remained entirely on you.

Your crush on your best friend had always been anything but that. You merely told yourself it was a meaningless flame that would surely falter the moment you left Hogwarts and met new men full of worldly experience. But in truth, you’d been fatally in love with Sebastian Sallow since you were fifteen. And now that he’d grabbed you by the hand and dragged you to a secret alcove of ecstasy you never thought you’d explore, your ties to Sebastian were much tighter than the loose threads of mere puppy love. He’d looped an invisible noose around your neck that would surely suffocate you if he strayed too far from you now.

Simply put, you knew whatever this was you’d embarked on with Sebastian would surely land you in a cage of hopeless desperation, but you were in far too deep to flee.

By the time breakfast finally started the following morning, you practically had to sit on your own hands to keep from fidgeting.

Ominis sensed your restless behavior the moment he sat down across from you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone sharp with concern.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled into your morning eggs. “Just tired.”

“Tired? Then why are you acting like you’ve had ten cups of tea? You can hardly sit still.”

“Just have a lot going on is all,” you said with a shrug. “You know, exams approaching and whatnot.”

“Since when do you care about exams?” Ominis pushed. “You’ve already got your spot secured with the Ministry Auror apprenticeship.”

“Yes, I know,” you huffed. “But it never hurts to put a little effort in.”

“Put a little effort into what?” Your head snapped up as Sebastian took the seat next to you. Your spine became rigid and you held your breath, your eyes absolutely fascinated by your breakfast plate.

“A little effort into my studies,” you answered with as much nonchalance as you could manage.

Sebastian’s eyes glinted with amusement, not that you could see them as your gaze remained cast downward. “Studying?” he laughed. “What are you concerned about studying for?”

“She said it’s making her jittery,” Ominis added. You glared daggers at him, undeterred by the fact he couldn’t see them.

“Jittery?” Sebastian repeated. “Since when does anything make you anxious?”

“Since when does my interest in schoolwork concern either of you?” you challenged.

“Everything you do concerns us,” Sebastian said. “That’s how this works.”

You prayed he didn’t see the flush that was surely sprawling from your neck to your cheeks. His casual, confident demeanor set you even more on edge. How could he be so carefree after the things he’d done to you yesterday?

Of course, for you, that was all foreign and new. But for Sebastian, you had to assume it was another standard Sunday. Maybe it hadn’t really mattered to him. 

“Don’t forget about detention tonight,” Sebastian said with a mouthful of pastry. “We’re to meet Professor Weasley in the Trophy Room.”

“The Trophy Room?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Who knows, maybe she wants to reward us for being upstanding, model students.”

—

By the time you met Sebastian at the top of the staircase to the Trophy Room at 7 p.m., Professor Weasley was already waiting for you. She stood with her hands behind her back, her eyes serious as she watched you approach. 

“Good evening,” she said with a neutral tone. You knew she was annoyed at you and Sebastian for behaving like degenerates, but you also knew the two of you were among her favorite students. She wouldn’t stay cross with you for long.

“Good evening, Professor,” you both chorused. 

“The two of you will spend the evening polishing the trophies in each case – without magic,” Professor Weasley said, adding extra emphasis at the end of her sentence. “I surmise you’re both capable of that task?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“And I trust the two of you will resist any temptation for additional indiscretions?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. Now I have some matters to tend to, but I’ll check on you in a couple of hours. And please keep your voices down. Headmaster Black is currently away in London, but I trust you two will be quiet anyway.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. I’ll leave you to it then.”

You watched in silence as she retreated toward the Grand Staircase. Now very aware that you and Sebastian were alone for the first time since the previous day’s activities in the Undercroft, you made a beeline toward the bucket of polish and rags Professor Weasley had left. Perhaps if you pretended to be unbothered, it would come true.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian mused. He leaned with his back to the frame of the entrance archway, his arms folded across his chest. You could feel his eyes clinging to you while you began to wonder why it was abnormally hot in the Trophy Room.

“I’m polishing trophies,” you deadpanned, still avoiding his stare.

“And why are you doing that?”

“Because I don’t want to spend another evening in detention, you prat. Now help me so we can get this done and over with.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

“Those are famous last words,” you muttered as you began polishing a trophy inside the quidditch cabinet. You didn’t need to face Sebastian to know he was smirking at you.

“Come on,” he said. “Surely there are better things we could be doing.”

Your heart crept into your throat. You knew where this was going. You were inching toward another point of no return. And you knew you wouldn’t stop yourself. 

“And what would you rather be doing?” you asked, finally turning your head to look at Sebastian.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled. “Lots of things. Perhaps what we did yesterday?”

You tore your gaze from him, your blush surely giving you away. 

“Sebastian…” you warned. 

“What?” he quipped innocently. 

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“How so? Or are you no longer interested in my services?”

“Your services?” you snorted. “What are you, a street harlot?”

“Depends, are you offering payment?” You hurled your rag at him and he laughed. “Okay, okay, fine,” he continued. “No payment necessary. But I still think we should take advantage of these extra hours of free time.”

“It’s not free time, Seb,” you noted. “And if Professor Weasley catches us, we’ll never see freedom again.”

“Then we won’t let her catch us,” Sebastian said simply. Before you could realize it, he was stepping toward you. You stilled, breath held deep in your lungs as he lingered in front of you. 

You silently screamed at him to touch you, in any way, shape or form he wanted. Instead, you gazed at him with a pointed stare, challenging him to act. It was your only defense to keep yourself from making an absolute, utter fool of yourself.

Sebastian’s hands snaked their way around your waist to the small of your back before he leaned in. You could smell aftershave, his arms tugging you closer until your head rested against his chest. Now, you were torn between wanting to linger in the safe warmth of his embrace and the desire to wrestle him to the floor to climb on top of him.

“We don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” he murmured in your ear. “Honestly, just tell me if… if you want yesterday to be a one-time thing.”

Sebastian was wasting his breath. You didn’t need an out, nor did you need any persuading. But you weren’t going to tell him that.

“But what if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught,” Sebastian insisted. You could feel his fingers pressing into the small of your back, and the sudden realization that he wanted you, too, hit you with stunning force. 

You’d spent your entire friendship thinking your connection to Sebastian would never breach the confines of platonic; kindred spirits, maybe even friendly flirtation, but certainly never anything of a physical nature. You’d begrudgingly convinced yourself that Sebastian was blind to your sexual nature. After all, plenty of your classmates expressed desire for you, but Sebastian never seemed to sneak so much as a double-take. 

But now, Sebastian’s eyes were feasting on you as if you were the first sexual being he’d ever seen.

The heat that had been slowly sprawling over your facial features now descended into your stomach, inching lower until you could feel it scalding between your thighs. You pinched them together, but the pressure only made the ache worse. 

Sebastian, sensing your discomfort, lifted an eyebrow at you. “Alright?” he asked. You merely nodded in response, afraid the pitch of your voice would expose your anticipation. Sebastian moved even closer, until his body was pressing flush with yours. Your breath hitched when you felt his erection prodding your stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he hummed in your ear. Goosebumps peppered the skin of your arms. The bulge pressed against your belly felt... substantial.

Sebastian slowly backed you toward the trophy case until you were pressed against the glass display. His eyes locked on yours, wild yet in control, as if he was testing the waters, reading how far you’d let him go. When you didn’t break his gaze, he leaned in to kiss you.

If you hadn’t been a goner before this, you certainly were now. Your heart rattled against your ribcage and you became spineless in Sebastian’s arms. He’d rendered you into submission and he’d barely touched you.

When Sebastian deepened the kiss, your arms tightened around his neck, shamelessly seeking more. He obliged you, his tongue finding your bottom lip and his hand tangling itself in your hair. Somewhere, beneath the blurred lines of an evolving friendship, you felt affection. Your mind raced until your head spun and your lungs burned for air. When you finally forced your lips free from Sebastian’s, he smirked at you.

“Ready for something even better than yesterday?” he mewed in your ear. 

Sebastian wasn’t one to make promises he couldn’t keep. And that’s what made your current situation even more dizzying – and thrilling.

His lips met your neck with careful deliberation, pressing swift kisses while his hands roamed your waist. The cool glass of the trophy case against your back contrasted the scorching heat between your bodies, but Sebastian’s hands wandered lower, skimming the tops of your thighs beneath your skirt.

His fingertips grazed your skin until the heat between your legs was impossible to ignore. He rubbed the fabric guarding your entrance and you whimpered in desperation for more.

You thought he’d tease you, take his time with you. After all, Sebastian had always been a cheeky son-of-a-bitch, especially when it came to you.

But as he fell to his knees in front of you, you gasped when he shoved the hem of your skirt upward, pinning it against your stomach while he pinned you against the glass. He pulled your panties to the side and you couldn’t withhold a moan when his tongue met your clit.

“Fuck, Seb,” you hissed as the pressure increased. Your hands tangled in his hair, the scant remnants of your self-control keeping you from pulling too hard. Your hips rolled forward and your exhales became quick, short puffs. 

You always thought you hated every girl who had the privilege to discover Sebastian in this way. But now, you silently thanked the universe for his experience and expertise. 

Broken moans escaped your lips between your panting. Your eyes fluttered shut and your head tilted back against the glass, your fingertips pressing against Sebastian’s scalp. Your woozy head became a black hole of filthy thoughts and shameless greed, desperate to discover more.

Sebastian’s hand kept your skirt hem raised above his head, his forearm pinning you against the trophy case as his tongue prodded your clit.

If Professor Weasley were to return, the primal sounds echoing across the room would expose you immediately. But you weren’t thinking about Professor Weasley right now, and you sure as hell weren’t in a state of mind to consider decorum. The only thing coursing through your mind was the bliss blooming within your walls.

When you finally managed to open your eyes and tilt your head forward to look at Sebastian, you were alarmed to find him staring upward at you. Pride glimmered in his eyes and you couldn’t fault him for it, given the pitiful uncontrolled sounds spilling from your lips.

“You taste so fucking good,” Sebastian murmured against your flesh. He sucked against your clit and you unleashed a sharp gasp. You’d never experienced that before and you could feel the muscles tensing in the backs of your thighs.

“Oh god,” you moaned to encourage him. He received the message and continued, his lips pulling and tongue flicking, until your eyes began to water from the searing sensation mounting within your nerve endings. It was all new to you, and had it not felt so fucking good, you might have been concerned for yourself. Sure, Sebastian had shown you your first orgasm just the previous day, but this – this was more intense than you thought possible.

The pressure became damn near painful as you squeezed your eyes shut again, your back arching off the glass as a desperate hum vibrated from your throat. You bucked your hips forward, begging Sebastian to grant you the privilege of more pleasure.

His tongue flattened against your clit and rolled, triggering the response you’d been willing to risk everything for. You heaved a sharp wail as your cunt convulsed, forcing a current of ecstasy through your body. It nearly forced you to your knees, had Sebastian not been holding you upright. His tongue worked you through your release, pressing and prodding your surging entrance until he hummed at the taste.

You ground your hips against him one last time to prolong the moment until your body finally slackened, leaving you slumped against the trophy case without a coherent thought. Sebastian, still resting on his knees, smirked upward at you.

“How was that?” he asked.

Your brain couldn’t quite compute the words, so you merely issued a soft whimper that made Sebastian bark a smug laugh. He released your skirt hem and rose to his feet, looming over you so he could press his erection against your stomach again.

“Have I earned some repayment yet?” he rasped in your ear, one hand pressed against the glass above your head so he could lean closer. You nodded.

“Anything you want,” you whispered.

“Anything?” he asked, pulling away to gaze at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Anything.” You were sure. You trusted Sebastian enough to know he wouldn’t demand too much, but knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t be afraid to ask for what he wanted.

Sebastian studied your eyes until you felt faint. He seemed to be searching your gaze for some sort of confirmation or hint. His eyes lingered and you swallowed the urge to tell him you’d worship him to the grave if he asked.

“I want you to be mine,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. Your lungs emptied instantly. It wasn’t the request you’d been expecting.

“Wh-what?” Your vision rattled back into alert focus, your mind sharpening at his words.

“I want you to be mine,” Sebastian repeated. “Mine and only mine.”

“How… how so?”

“Just you and me. No one else.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

You were terrified to continue staring into his eyes, convinced he'd be able to read them and learn every secret about himself you'd kept under lock and key. But you were also fearful of looking away, as if breaking eye contact would sever the moment you’d seen only in your daydreams. But you had to be sure.

“You mean as in us… being together?” you asked carefully.

“Yes.”

This was not how you’d expected your detention to turn out. You wanted to say something impressively witty and painstakingly clever, something that would prove to Sebastian this would all be worthwhile, that you were the one and only being he should ever bother with.

But all you could manage was a soft, “Okay,” though your hushed tone was a steep contrast to the screaming jubilation ringing in your skull. You wanted to fall to your knees in relief, or jump up and down in celebration. Instead, you waited for Sebastian to decide what would come next. Little did you know it would be you — again.

Sebastian didn’t say anything more. Instead, he used the soft moment to kiss you, first with gentle adoration, followed quickly by charged intensity. He pressed his body into yours, as if he were trying to prove how much he needed you. But as his kisses became more urgent, the sudden intrusion of footsteps approaching forced you apart.

You whirled toward the doorway just as Duncan Hobhouse wandered into the trophy room.

“Hobhouse,” Sebastian sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask the two of you the same question,” Duncan retorted with narrowed eyes.

“We’re serving a quick little detention,” Sebastian answered. “Meaning the Trophy Room’s closed for cleaning, so you can be on your way.”

“Detention my arse,” Duncan sneered. “The two of you were clearly having a snog.”

“Might want to get your glasses checked, Hobhouse,” Sebastian continued. “We’re merely cleaning the trophies like upstanding students committed to completing our detention and learning our moral lesson.” Even you had to bite back a snort.

“Really,” Duncan deadpanned. “And that’s why there’s a handprint on the glass above your heads? Perhaps I’ll just tell Professor Weasley that you missed a spot.”

“What are you doing here, Duncan?” you interjected with an annoyed sigh. 

“I came to check on some old awards for special services to the school,” Duncan replied. 

“They don’t hand out awards for being the school’s biggest bigot, if that’s what you’re aspiring toward,” you noted.

“Yeah? How about an award for being the school’s biggest slag? You’ll take top honors.” 

Sebastian made a move toward Duncan, ready to throttle him with his bare hands, but you were quicker with your wand. “Petrificus totalus!” 

Duncan’s limbs snapped rigid and you watched in silence as he toppled to the floor, stiff as a board. Sebastian cackled with glee.

“We ought to shag right next to him,” he said as he approached Duncan to leer downward at him.

“He’d probably like it too much,” you said, glaring daggers at the boy on the floor. You fished Duncan’s wand from his robes and secured it with your own. 

“Too true,” Sebastian agreed. “Besides, you’re mine now. No one else gets to have a look.”

Your cheeks flushed as he reached for you and hooked an arm around your waist. It was a simple gesture that you hoped would become as routine as afternoon tea, but in that moment, it felt as if everything was changing in a flurry of thrill and adrenaline. Your self-control and propriety were waning.

“Come on,” you said, reaching for Sebastian’s hand. Another simple gesture that felt wild and bold to you, new and unchartered despite the unchaste actions that had just occurred in the Trophy Room.

You tossed one final look of disgust at Duncan before leading Sebastian toward the rear doorway of the Trophy Room, through the gate and up the stairs. Once you dragged him through the winding hallway and toward the next staircase, Sebastian let out a low whistle.

“Wait a minute,” he said, though he allowed you to continue guiding him up the steps. “We’re not headed where I think we are…”

You tossed him a smug glance. “You heard Professor Weasley,” you said. “Headmaster Black’s gone for the night.”

“But we can’t just…”

It was rare that you ever rendered Sebastian speechless and you were reveling in the moment. “Assuming he hasn’t changed the password – and he hasn’t in the last few years,” you said slyly.

“This is bold, even for me,” Sebastian said as you approached the stone gargoyle.

He wasn’t wrong. While you and Sebastian had no reservations when it came to bending a few rules (and maybe committing an accidental homicide), you were both typically smart enough to color within the lines. You only strayed from them when it felt necessary. And breaking into Black’s office had only been necessary that one time.

But you decided if you and Sebastian were going to take the plunge into the wild unknown of romance, you might as well make it memorable. Maybe, you thought, you’d look back at this with fondness one day. And even if you didn’t, even if you failed and you and Sebastian became a burning wreckage of destruction and debris, at least you could say the two of you were anything but boring.

“Toujours pur,” you said confidently, smiling as the enchanted gargoyle began to spin. You glanced sideways at Sebastian, who was giving you wide eyes. “Scared?” you teased.

Sebastian shook his head. “Of course not,” he answered. You could see right through him. 

“We’ll just have a quick look, yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

Sebastian followed you up the spiral stairs until you reached Headmaster Black’s office. You watched Sebastian gaze around the office, eyes glinting with familiar mischief as he observed the surroundings. He strode toward Black’s desk, pausing to examine various trinkets and statues along the way. When he reached the desk, curiously eyeing various sheets of parchment scattered across the top, you noticed his trousers were still straining over his erection. 

You subconsciously licked your bottom lip. You genuinely — honest and swear to God — hadn't planned on defiling the headmaster's office that night, but your weeks as a Hogwarts student were winding now and you figured such an opportunity wouldn't arise again. Not to mention you were desperate to seal your fate with Sebastian.

You strolled casually toward the desk, your arms folded as you studied the ceiling with faux interest. When you returned your eyes downward, you realized Sebastian’s were fixated on you. 

“About that reward,” he purred as he backed you toward the desk. It seemed his hesitations had vanished.

Once the backs of your thighs met the desk’s edge, you chewed your bottom lip in anticipation. Sebastian flashed his canines.

You held your breath as he reached for the buttons of your blouse. His fingers worked methodically until your shirt fell open, exposing your bra and bare midriff. He leaned in to kiss you, his hands guiding your shirt off in the process. 

The office air was cool and dim, but Sebastian’s lips seemed to sizzle against your skin as he left a trail of kisses from your lips to your neck. His hands were just as hot as they snaked toward your back to unclasp your bra. As soon as it opened, Sebastian was tossing it aside with your blouse.

You couldn’t help but avert your bashful eyes as he examined your half-nude form. You weren’t sure why you felt shy, given he’d seen you much more intimately just below in the Trophy Room, but as his hand cupped your breast, your anxiety fizzled.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he hissed as he pressed a thumb against your nipple. “Can’t wait to finally make you come on my cock.”

You whimpered in response. You’d always assumed Sebastian was bold and brash when it came to bedroom behavior, but hearing it directed at you was more arousing than anything you'd heard from other boys.

It became clear Sebastian was tired of touching your clothed form. He quickly tugged at the hem of your skirt and wrestled it from your hips, leaving you in only your panties until those also found the marble floor.

“This isn’t fair,” you protested, eyeing Sebastian’s fully-clothed frame. You felt like prey presented on a pedestal for a predator.

“And whose fault is that?” he teased as he held his arms outward. “I’m not stopping you.”

You rolled your eyes in response and made a move for the hem of his jumper, tugging it over his head in one swift motion. You stilled. Sure, you’d seen Sebastian shirtless on a few summer afternoons of swimming, but you never thought you’d have the chance to touch his bare chest. Your stare clung to his toned arms and chest, and you couldn’t help but smile at the freckles that scattered across his skin. Someday, you’d take the time to familiarize yourself with those constellations, but not now. Now, you were far too greedy for such sweet moments.

“Seb,” you whined. “I need you. I need you to show me how it feels... how you feel.”

Sebastian was overcome by a warm flood of energy. His hands snapped to your waist and he hoisted you onto the desk, your legs dangling off the ledge as he fidgeted with his belt. When it clanked open, you reached for his waistband, shoving everything to the floor.

The ache within your core blazed when his cock bobbed against your thigh. You shifted impatiently atop the desk, your cunt still wet from your antics in the Trophy Room. 

You were a viper ready to sink your teeth into sustenance.

But you had to touch him, to know how his smooth length felt in your hand. You reached for him and stroked slowly, the pads of your fingers tracing over every ridge. Sebastian swore under his breath at your touch. You wished you could leave fingerprints over his flesh.

Sebastian’s own fingers found their way between your thighs and swiped across your entrance. He groaned at the feeling of your wet folds and sank two fingers inside you. 

“Sebastian,” you moaned, unsure if you were relieved by his touch or annoyed he was only offering you his fingers when you were desperate for more. But when he pumped his hand, you decided you’d never doubt him again.

You rested back on your hands to support yourself, your walls clenching around Sebastian’s fingers, anxious to incite another release. By now, you were certain you’d only ever experience such a sensation with him. You didn’t want it from anyone else anyway.

When he withdrew his hand, you pouted in protest. He sucked his fingers and smirked at you, eyes shining with anticipation. 

“Don’t pout, darling,” Sebastian laughed. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

He leaned over you, hands flat atop the desk on either side of your hips while he kissed you. And while you appreciated Sebastian’s tender side, you were certain you were going to spontaneously combust if he didn’t splay you out across that desk soon.

Your thighs tightened around his torso and you could feel him smirk against your lips. 

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he teased. 

“And you’re being insufferable,” you whined. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” Sebastian cooed. “Let’s make you feel good, shall we?”

Before you could agree, Sebastian was prying your knees apart and lining his cock against your entrance. You held your breath, every nerve ending on high alert for this climactic moment. He sank into you with an impressive air of self-restraint. You felt impossibly tight at first and willed your body to relax to accommodate him.

“Fucking hell, you’re tight,” he groaned.

You wanted to pause the moment, to freeze time to appreciate this monumental step in your timeline with Sebastian. It had been three years in the making; three years of tension, longing and torment. It meant something to you both.

But now wasn't the time for sappy sentiments or histrionics. Now, all you wanted was to claim Sebastian Sallow as the keeper of your entire being.

He pressed deeper until a low moan escaped your lips. It seemed to reassure him and he pulled back, his cock dragging against your stretched walls slowly. He repeated the motion until he was thrusting you gently, testing your limits until he reached the hilt. Blood rushed to your ears, ringing a loud and intrusive symphony as your pulse raced. Your cunt felt so full, you gnawed at your bottom lip.

Soon, you were resting back on your elbows as Sebastian gripped your hips. He drove inside you with a steady rhythm, hands holding you in place on the desktop. 

“God, you’re so good,” Sebastian panted. When you moaned in response, his pace hastened. His hips jutted forward with more force until you were flat on your back, breasts bouncing with every movement and legs locked around Sebastian's torso. Parchment rustled beneath you and quills pricked your back, but you paid them no mind. The only sensation you could feel was the mounting pressure within your walls.

Sebastian groaned at the vision of your cunt swallowing his slick cock. He'd conjured the sight in quiet solitude, but no fantasy could replicate the squeeze of your tight heat or the submissive whimpers tumbling from your lips.

It was surely the most obscene display to ever occur within the walls of the sacred headmaster’s office; you, sprawled across the desktop, your mouth hanging open in ecstasy while Sebastian fucked you harder than you’d ever experienced. 

Your hitching gasps were soon joined by the steady symphony of slapping skin when Sebastian pulled your legs together, hugging them against his own shoulder as he pounded you harder. 

“That’s it,” he panted above you as your toes curled and walls squeezed at the change in angle. You were most certainly going to be sore in the morning, but you’d commit every Unforgivable Curse a hundred times over before you allowed this to stop. Not before you discovered how it felt to fall apart around Sebastian.

The crude noises echoing from your union could only be rivalved by the absolute filth spilling off your tongue. You begged Sebastian to fuck you harder, treat you rougher, all while you used the name of every spiritual power in vulgar vain. Sebastian Sallow was the only higher power you cared to worship anyway.

Sebastian gazed at you, half-lidded, with lust and love. Your moans became short wails as his cock drove upward, prodding the sensitive spot within your front wall. You could hear your body’s slick response. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “Don’t ever stop.”

“Don’t plan to,” Sebastian panted. “You’re mine, remember?”

“Yours,” you answered, your voice a broken stutter. Your nails scraped against the top of the wood desk, your body growing more rigid as you willed it to release. You’d never been so full, and your stretched walls were strained around Sebastian’s cock, threatening to seize. 

He pumped faster, his jaw clenched in concentration while you quivered and writhed beneath him. The pressure was blooming within your core, and you felt the knot inside you ready to unravel. 

“Seb, I think I’m close,” you breathed. It was more of a plea than a warning.

Sebastian dropped your legs, allowing them to drape over the edge of the desk again as his hands returned to your hips. He pulled himself hard against you until he found another rhythmic pattern, his hips rolling forward as his thumb found your clit. You gasped in response to the dual sensations, your cunt constricting around Sebastian’s cock in preparation for your release. 

Your chest heaved and your moans became louder as Sebastian drove inside you, his thumb swiping at your clit until you were screaming his name. He dabbed his cock upward, pressing firmly into your sweet spot.

With a shrill shriek, your back arched and your legs spasmed, your walls pulsing with your climax. You thrashed against the desktop as your cunt surged and Sebastian continued to thrust you through your grand finale. Your eyes saw spots until the quivering within your walls calmed. 

But the vision triggered Sebastian’s own unraveling. He yanked your hips flush with his as he grunted and spilled inside you, his fingers pressing firm into your sides with every pulse until his knees threatened to give out.

As the office drifted back into focus, you gazed upward at the ceiling, in disbelief of what you had just done, but more stunned that you’d done it with Sebastian. But he was yours now, and the notion that your future together now held much more possibility made you positively giddy. You blinked up at him with heavy eyelids, your head still spinning in a post-orgasm haze as you watched him with adoration.

He smirked at you and extended a hand to help you from the desk. You slid to your feet and began gathering your clothing when you felt his arms latch around you from behind.

“Hold on now,” he hummed in your ear. “You’re okay, right?”

You spun to face him, the corners of your lips tugging upward in an amused smile. “Sebastian, I can barely stand upright after the way... the way my legs were shaking. How could I be anything other than okay?” you laughed. Sebastian looked satisfied with himself. Typically, you’d say something snarky, perhaps shove him away with playful banter to knock his ego down a few notches. But right now, you were too smitten, too elated to be anything but authentically, unequivocally exhilarated.

“Just checking,” Sebastian said with a shrug, one of his fingers twirling a lock of your hair. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but it felt entirely different. Now, it meant something.

“We should get out of here,” you finally said, your eyes scanning the office once more.

“Oh? I was starting to grow fond of the place,” Sebastian mused. “Was thinking we could spend the night in Black’s bed chamber.”

“Try explaining that one to Professor Weasley.”

“She’d probably resign on the spot.” 

The two of you hurried from the office and returned to the Trophy Room, where Duncan was still on the floor. Sebastian glanced at his pocket watch and flicked his wand. “Scourgify.” The trophies and their display cases sparkled. 

You moved to fetch one of the cleaning rags you’d left on the floor when Sebastian caught your arm. “Just so we’re clear,” he started, “We… you and I… Are we…”

“Not backing out on me now, are you?” you teased.

“No!” Sebastian said quickly. “I just… wanted to be sure this is all real.”

“Sebastian,” you deadpanned. “My undergarments are ruined, I’m fairly certain I have quill marks on my back, and I’m certain I won’t be able to walk come morning. So yes, this is very real.”

"But you and I... we're..." He rubbed the back of his neck and you couldn't help but smirk at his discomfort. "We're more than friends now, right?"

"Do mere friends do what we just did?"

"I mean, some do."

"Well, I happen to be a lady of honor and dignity," you said matter-of-factly, drawing a snort from Sebastian. "And I don't do those things without a little commitment."

"Believe me, I'm all yours."

"Good."

Sebastian looked delighted, but before he could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor. 

“Goodness!” Professor Weasley exclaimed as she scurried toward Duncan. “What happened?”

You and Sebastian swapped a glance. “There you are, Professor!” Sebastian exclaimed, his voice feigning urgency. “We were just about to come looking for you!”

“What have you done to Mr. Hobhouse?” 

“We didn’t have a choice!” Sebastian insisted innocently. You clenched your jaw to suppress a laugh. Even after years of witnessing Sebastian’s charm and charisma, you were still impressed. “Duncan was trying to sneak through the Trophy Room. Tried to bribe us to keep quiet. Said something about sneaking into Professor Black’s office! We were going to come find you to let you know, but we didn’t want him to get away so we used Petrificus Totalus. I'm sorry, Professor!”

You prayed your face wasn’t flushed from fighting to maintain your composure. Professor Weasley’s sharp gaze shifted from Sebastian to you, and you immediately wore an expression of faux concern.

“And did Mr. Hobhouse say why he was trying to enter the headmaster’s office?” she asked.

“No, Professor,” you said, offering your own air of innocence. Though you weren’t as silver-tongued as Sebastian, you’d certainly learned a thing or two from him. “He was mumbling some nonsense about looking for a book of student names? Said something about wanting to ensure only purebloods would be admitted to Hogwarts. I’ve no idea what he was referring to.”

Professor Weasley’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Book of Admittance. You made a mental note to explain to Sebastian later how you'd once stumbled upon it as you caught his eye and he shot you a confused frown.

“I see,” Professor Weasley said slowly. She turned to look at Duncan, who was still motionless on the floor. “That is a very serious offense, Mr. Hobhouse. You’ll be serving a month of detention, and the headmaster will be made aware of this. As for you two, you’re free to go.”

“Goodnight, Professor,” you and Sebastian said in unison, too smart to linger any longer. Sebastian winked at Duncan as you passed his lifeless form and retreated toward the staircase.

“Hope we didn’t leave any evidence in Black’s office,” Sebastian muttered quietly as you continued downward. “Hobhouse will surely try to spin his own tale once Weasley removes the body-bind spell.”

“Oh, I might have left something behind,” you said with a smirk. Sebastian turned to look at you in panicked alarm and you unleashed a flippant giggle.

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “We’re in the clear.”

“Then what’d you leave behind?”

You flashed Sebastian a proud grin. “Duncan’s wand.”

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I’m OBSESSED with your writings 🧎🏼‍♀️😩

Oh hi cutie! Thank you! I love and appreciate you! 💖

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Aww thanks for the tag @dreamy-gal-30! I’m jealous of your date because a chill night with Seb and board games and tiramisu is definitely my vibe.

I am SCREAMING at my date because can y’all tell I’ve been obsessed with The Pitt lately? 💀 Wrong fandom for this blog but there is currently no one I would rather go on a date with than Dr. Robby because I could totally fix him. Also, CRYING at that quote because of how well it fits.

NP tagging @spookybriecheese @sloanesallow @kay9leo @jstfndmthngs @leaswhum @channiesstar

you are going on a blind date that pinterest set up for you, find out who will be the lucky one and how the evening will end 💌

on pinterest search the following topics and post the first pin that will show up in each category

fictional character. date night. gift. outfit. dessert. love quote.

tysm lyssy for the tag this is so pretty!! @bloodstainedsapphic

Npt 🏷️@moonpascal @thatdammchickennugget @obsessedwithceleste @acourtofchaos @leona-hawthorne @gibsluv @ur-local-wizard @riddlesrizzler @dearmisshoney @musingsofahufflepuff

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a father's approval

Sebastian is ready to ask Sloane to marry him, but first, he must speak with the most intimidating man in the world: her father. Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (Siobhan Sloane) Tags: Established relationship, Papa Sloane is basically an Irish Ron Swanson 1.5k words [Ao3] | [Wattpad]

Summer 1894

It’s a clear day, the sun shining brightly overhead, when Sebastian disapperates to the outskirts of Nottinghamshire. He’s made this trip plenty of times over the years, visiting his girlfriend’s childhood home on weekends and during holiday breaks. It’s a place he’s come to cherish, the quiet hamlet the setting of so many precious memories he has with Sloane.

Though it’s been a while since his last visit, with Sloane in Marseille. After graduation, she’d been invited to become an apprentice by a prestigious Herbologist in France, an opportunity she couldn’t pass on, even if it meant being away from Sebastian. He’d accepted his own apprenticeship with Gringotts, training in London as a curse-breaker.

After nearly a year apart, he’s ready for her to be home.

There’s something else he’s ready for, too.

Sebastian leisurely walks up the grassy path toward the Sloane family homestead, absentmindedly plucking a few wildflowers to form a makeshift bouquet. By the time he reaches the porch steps, his chest aches with how quickly his heart beats, terrified that this trip won’t go according to plan. He leans over to inspect his warped reflection in the doorside window, fiddling with his collar and tie, making sure there aren’t too many hairs out of place before he knocks.

He doesn’t get the chance.

“Sallow.”

Sebastian meeps. Meeps.

He slowly turns around to find Mr. Sloane standing behind him, hands covered in dirt from a long day’s work in the fields, a shotgun slung over his broad shoulder. Sebastian might consider himself tall, but compared to Sloane’s father, he feels like a house elf.

“Uh…h—hello, sir,” he greets, clearing his throat of the embarrassing squeak. “Fine day.”

Mr. Sloane slowly blinks. “Siobhan isn’t here.”

“I know that,” Sebastian replies with a strained laugh. “Can’t I visit you?”

“No.”

Sebastian frowns. Sloane always says that her father doesn’t hate him, regardless of his curmudgeonly personality. That’s just the way he is, the softer, more jovial parts reserved for only his beloved daughter. While Mr. Sloane has never outwardly protested their relationship, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to the idea, either. If anything, the man tolerates Sebastian, which might be worse.

Without another word, Mr. Sloane enters his home, leaving the door open behind him in a silent invitation for Sebastian to follow. He idles in the foyer, doubting his presence is truly welcome.

“Sit,” Mr. Sloane instructs when he reenters the room, this time carrying two shallow glasses filled with amber liquid. Sebastian is confused by the offering, staring down at the drink that’s pushed into his hand. Mr. Sloane’s voice is a little firmer this time. “Sit.”

Sebastian snaps himself down onto the worn-out sofa, watching Mr. Sloane as he relaxes into the nearby armchair with a long, exhausted exhale. When the older man raises his glass to drink, Sebastian does the same, wincing when the alcohol hits the back of his throat.

“Smooth,” he coughs, tears glazing his vision.

Mr. Sloane laughs.

It startles Sebastian, the sound so foreign to him that he doesn’t know how to react. He swallows the tightness in his throat, wishing he had something less caustic to help ease his nerves.

“Out with it, Sallow,” Mr. Sloane finally speaks, studying him with steely blue eyes. “What do you want?”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t?”

“I mean—”

“You mean what?” Mr. Sloane firmly asks, with one brow arched high.

Sebastian sighs, wetting his lips as he builds up the courage to say—to ask—what he’s come here for. All the practicing he’s done that week, all the imaginary conversations he’s held with himself to prepare—it all vanishes from his mind when he meets Mr. Sloane’s gaze.

“I’d like to ask for Siobhan’s hand, for your approval, that is, for her hand—”

“Are you planning on cutting it off?”

Sebastian is confused by the interruption. “What?”

“Her hand,” Mr. Sloane clarifies. “Do you plan on cutting it off?”

“Huh?”

“What else would you need it for?”  

Sebastian closes his eyes and groans. “Please, sir. You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Mr. Sloane’s lips twitch just enough for Sebastian to realize he’s being needled.

Maybe Sloane is right, that her father doesn’t hate him. Sebastian doubts the man would tease him so ruthlessly if he weren’t at least a little fond of him. He steadies his resolve and tries again.

“I’d like to ask Slo—Siobhan—for her hand in marriage,” Sebastian says, heart racing in anticipation of Mr. Sloane’s response. “I didn’t want to—couldn’t—propose to her without your approval.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Sebastian repeats, not expecting the question. Isn’t this what he’s supposed to do? Even in the wizarding world, where the rules for courtship are far more lenient than they are in Muggle society, boys are taught to be gentlemanly. “Erm…don’t I need your permission?”

“Permission, approval,” Mr. Sloane shakes his head, but it isn’t him disagreeing. Not yet, at least. “I’ve no care for what the law says, I do not control Siobhan’s life.”

Sebastian appreciates this about Mr. Sloane, that he’s given his daughter the freedom to live her life as she wants. But he knows that she’ll never agree to marry him if she thinks it will upset her father. After everything they’ve been through, he can’t bear the thought of not spending the rest of his life with Sloane.

Mr. Sloane remains silent—a family trait—as he slowly sips his brandy until the glass is empty. “I expected you to grovel.”

“Do…you want me to grovel?” Sebastian gulps. He will, if that’s what it takes.

“Perhaps a little,” Mr. Sloane shrugs. “Siobhan is my only daughter, after all. Her mother will have words for me in the afterlife if I don’t make it somewhat difficult on you. Go on, tell me your plans.”

Despite the demand, Sebastian feels strangely hopeful.

“I uhh…” he trails, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s a spot in Hogsmeade, the wizarding village, where we spent a lot of time while attending Hogwarts. It’s where we’d…stroll.” Sebastian decides against mentioning all the times he’s kissed Sloane on late-night walks after dinner at the Three Broomsticks. “She’s fond of the wisteria trees. I’d…like to propose to her there.”

“Do you have a ring?” Mr. Sloane asks next.

“Yes,” Sebastian nods, then backtracks. “I mean, I have one picked out. The jeweler promised to hold it for me until I could pay.”

“Not that I lack the funds,” he scrambles to add. “Well, right now I…do. But I’ve accepted a contract with the Ministry of Magic, and will purchase the ring once I receive my first week’s pay.”

Mr. Sloane’s expression is unreadable, not that it is ever discernible. “Where will you live?”

“In London,” Sebastian answers, grip tightening around the glass he hasn’t dared to drink from. “I have a flat there,” he explains, omitting the fact that he still has roommates. “But I’ve told Sloane already that we can live anywhere she’d like. As long as we’re together.”

Mr. Sloane says nothing, prompting Sebastian to second-guess everything he’s said.

“I know I don’t have a lot to offer, sir,” he says, wondering if this conversation would be easier if he were of a better station in life. “But I really, truly love your daughter. And I want to spend the rest of my life loving her.”

Mr. Sloane abruptly stands, and he moves to do the same until the older man gestures for him to remain seated. He disappears from the room for several minutes, leaving Sebastian to spiral. When Mr. Sloane returns, he swaps the glass in Sebastian’s hand for something else.

A small, ornate box.

Sebastian carefully opens it to reveal a ring, the silver band intricately engraved with a Celtic lover’s knot, the center diamond surrounded by tiny, leaf-like gems. The sight renders him speechless.

“Her mother’s ring,” Mr. Sloane explains, a lingering grief in his tone. “I’ll not have you propose to Siobhan with anything else.”

Sebastian remembers Sloane speaking about it once, thinking the ring had been buried with her mother. “You kept it?”

“I knew this day would come,” the man responds, still rigid, even as he sighs. “You’ll understand one day when you have a daughter of your own.”

The blood drains from Sebastian’s brain as he blanches, doing everything he can to not think about Sloane with a rounded stomach, or with a baby at her breast—their baby. It’s only then that he realizes what Mr. Sloane is implying.

“Does this mean—”

“You’ll be married in a church, do you understand?”

Sebastian frantically nods, suddenly feeling quite jittery. “Y—yes, sir.”

“And no more of this Sloane nonsense,” he adds. “Won’t make much sense, anyway, once she’s a Sallow.”

Sebastian grins.

“Stop that,” Mr. Sloane says. “Stand up.”

Sebastian does, still somewhat terrified that he might change his mind. Mr. Sloane raises his hand, but when Sebastian reaches out to shake it, he’s pulled into a crushing embrace that he’s sure will bruise his ribs.

“Sir?” he squeaks, too nervous to hug the man in return.

“Rowan,” Mr. Sloane corrects, offering his given name. “You’re a good man, Sebastian.”

When he pulls away, Sebastian pretends not to see the sheen of tears in the man’s eyes, while fighting back his own. Mr. Sloane firmly grasps his shoulder and, for what feels like the first time, smiles. “I’ll be proud to call you son.”

Show your support! Reblogs, comments, kudos/votes are greatly appreciated. 💛✨

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Okay hear me out, I thought of doing my own fic about this idea but I feel the world needs to hear this sooner and I’ve never done a fic so would be too long until this happens.

It’s an amortenia idea, but it’s like professor sharp has a personal vendetta that day. No one knows about the lesson plan and he’s got the pot sitting there brewing smelling all whatever it smells like. And like one by one students are trickling in questioning these strange scents and spilling their deepest darkest secrets and professor sharp is just sitting there with smug satisfaction reeling in the chaos he has created.

Some examples I thought of, someone who likes poppy complaining that it smells like she has been in the animal pen at beasts class all day (Jim from the office zoom to professor sharps face)

Ominis like asking the class hey wait is Anne here today? Coz he smells her perfume or something.

The classic mc and Sebastian smelling each other I’ll leave that idea to you.

Leander like smelling the greenhouse coz the loser has a crush on his teacher.

Someone who crushes on Gareth walking in thinking he has already exploded a potion.

And then there’s Amit smelling like books or something to do with astronomy coz that’s all he loves lol.

Please make this a reality 🥲🥲

Love your work btw 😍

Hi! So I love love LOVED this request. It was so fun to write these students trying not to spiral out during class, so thank you for this one!

Amortentia

Rating: PG (language) Words: ~2,500 Tags: 2nd person POV, multiple pairings, teen romance, secret crushes

Read below the cut.

Professor Sharp was a straight shooter. He valued hard work, self-discipline and intelligence. It showed in the way he ran his classroom. He expected students to be prompt, attentive and alert. He demanded effort and excellence. And he felt genuine satisfaction when his students succeeded – and impatience when they didn’t.

Sharp was a gruff, no-nonsense man. But every once and a while – or maybe just once a year – he couldn’t help but stir the pot… literally and figuratively speaking. 

Every April, Sharp chose one day to hold a special lesson for his unsuspecting seventh-year students. Perhaps it was a bit cheeky, maybe even diabolical, depending on who you asked, but Sharp couldn’t help but bask in the controlled chaos that consumed his classroom on this particular day each year.

Today was his annual Amortentia lesson. And nothing was more entertaining than watching a group of hormonal 17- and 18-year-olds fall victim to love’s sweet scent. 

Garreth Weasley was the first to enter class that day. No surprise there, Sharp thought as he watched the redhead find his usual work station. Garreth often arrived ahead of the other students to get a head start on his brews, which were often unsanctioned and illicit. Sharp knew this, but chose his battles wisely. Truth be told, he quietly appreciated Garreth’s enthusiasm for potion brewing, even when it was often accompanied by anarchy.

Garreth’s brow furrowed as he strolled into class, his nose audibly sniffing the air that wafted from the cauldron Professor Sharp had placed at the front of the classroom. 

“Why in Merlin’s name does it smell like hay in here?” Garreth asked as Leander Prewett entered the class behind him.

“Hay?” Leander blanched. “What are you on about? It smells like… soil and dirigible plums.”

“Huh? It smells like hay and corn… like the Beasts classroom,” Garreth insisted. Professor Sharp blinked at the boys’ exchange.

“Oi!” came the sharp voice of Imelda Reyes as she tossed her books down at her work station. “Weasley, did you already blow up your brew? Why’s it smell like burning billywig stings?” 

“Oi, I haven’t done shit!” Garreth said indignantly. 

“Language, Mr. Weasley,” Professor Sharp sighed. He earned a sheepish grimace from Garreth, which drew a smirk from Imelda.

“Does it smell like the Herbology greenhouse in here?” Leander asked her. Imelda wrinkled her face at him.

“Herbology?” she repeated blankly. “Don’t tell me you’re already lusting after Professor Garlick first thing in the morning. Keep it in your pants, Prewett.”

“It smells like dirigible plums!” Leander said hotly.

“It smells like Weasley’s been concocting more of that forbidden fizzing whizzbee potion,” Imelda retorted.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Ominis Gaunt. His usual cool and calm features contorted the moment he approached, his hands feeling for the table as he found his work station.

“Was Anne here?” he asked eagerly. “Where’s Sebastian? He didn’t tell me Anne was visiting today.”

Imelda and Garreth swapped a glance. “Anne? Anne Sallow?” Imelda asked carefully.

“Yes,” Ominis replied excitedly, the glowing tip of his wand surveying the room in search of the source of the scent. “It smells like shrivelfig and dittany, like the pain management potion Anne takes. When was she here?”

“Er, she wasn’t mate,” Garreth said carefully. “It’s just been us and Professor Sharp here.”

“Ah, Sebastian, there you are!” Ominis said, ignoring the others as Sebastian Sallow approached. “When was Anne here? Why was Anne here?”

“Anne?” Sebastian repeated blankly. “Anne’s still at St. Mungo’s, Ominis. You know that. Why would she be here?”

“I can smell her,” Ominis insisted, his pale face turning pink. “She has a very distinct scent because of her potions.”

“She’s not here, Ominis,” Sebastian said seriously, his face forming a concerned scowl. “And besides, I think it smells like lavender and… is that cinnamon?”

“Cinnamon?” Ominis repeated blankly. “What in Merlin’s-”

“Good morning,” Natsai Onai said as she took the station next to Sebastian. “Why does it smell like the library in here?”

“The library?” Sebastian repeated.

“Yes, like old books,” Natsai said. The group of students shared a menagerie of confused glances when Amit Thakkar entered the room with you.

“Morning,” you said cheerily, stopping in your tracks at the familiar scent of smoke and licorice. You smiled at Sebastian, who was looking miffed about something.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, eyeing him carefully.

“Nothing,” Sebastian answered. “It’s just… Ominis thought Anne was here.”

“Anne? Here? I thought she was in-”

“London,” Sebastian finished. “Yes, she is. She’s still at St. Mungo’s for the medication trial with the alchemists.”

“Why did you think she was here, Ominis?” you asked, your stare shifting to the other third of your friendship trio.

“Because it smells like her,” Ominis said, looking exasperated. “I know it sounds mad, but it smells like her medicine in here.”

“Really?” you mused, your lips pursing to suppress a knowing smile. It was no secret to you that Ominis held a torch for Anne. You’d never mentioned it though, knowing damn well he’d be mortified if Sebastian found out.

“What’s that on your shirt?” Imelda cut in before you could tease Ominis about his secret crush. You glanced down at the front of your blouse and frowned.

“Oh, that’s just cinnamon,” you sighed as you tried to dust yourself off. “Must have spilled some on myself when I sprinkled it in my breakfast tea.”

“Cinnamon, huh?” Imelda mused. You watched in confusion as her eyes grew wide with slow, stunned realization. 

“What is it?” you demanded, but Imelda shook her head as she turned to Amit.

“Oi, Thakkar,” she said. “What’s it smell like in here to you?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“What do you smell?”

“I smell grass,” Amit answered. “Grass and leather.”

Imelda glanced at the leatherbound journal Natsai always carried around.

“Imelda, what’s this about?” you sighed.

Imelda ignored you. “Professor!” she called out with her hand raised. “What’s the assignment for today?”

Professor Sharp, who had been sitting in his usual chair at the table at the front of the classroom, sat back and stretched his legs out. It was a rare expression of casual nonchalance you weren’t used to seeing from him. 

He cleared his throat before his eyes scanned the room to confirm all students had arrived. “Class, gather around my table,” he instructed as he rose to his feet. You and Sebastian swapped a curious glance as you abandoned your work station to follow your classmates to the front of the room.

“Who can tell me what this is?” Professor Sharp asked as he motioned toward the large cauldron on the tabletop. It contained a bubbling brew that was a rich shade of magenta.

Your eyes darted around the room as you waited for one of your peers to answer. Imelda raised her hand and you couldn’t help but notice an alarming glint in her eye.

“That’s Amortentia,” she said matter-of-factly. A series of whispers rolled across the room.

“Correct,” Professor Sharp said. “Five points for Slytherin. And who can tell me what Amortentia does?”

You swallowed before raising your hand. “It’s a love potion,” you answered. “Or more like an obsession potion. It can’t actually create the true emotion of love, but it can create dangerous infatuation.”

“And?”

“And it’s said to smell different to everyone,” Imelda cut in smugly. “It smells like whatever they find most attractive.”

Your stomach twisted and you could hear Ominis swear under his breath next to you.

Eyes darted around the classroom as you and your classmates began to assess the inadvertent admissions many of you had made upon your arrival. You silently thanked the higher powers that you hadn't let slip what you had smelled.

“Say Imelda,” Leander mused. “Weren’t you saying it smelled like Garreth’s potions when you walked in?”

The satisfied smirk vanished from Imelda’s face. “Shut it, Prewett!” she snapped. “At least I didn’t walk in and get a hard-on for Professor Garlick.”

Sebastian snorted next to you. “Garreth and Imelda?” he muttered quietly in your ear, “Now there’s a match made in hell.”

“And what do you smell?” you asked casually, praying you didn’t seem too curious. 

“Nice try,” Sebastian replied with his signature half smirk as he crossed his arms. You were afraid to know the truth anyway.

Meanwhile, Ominis was looking even paler than usual. You smiled with a blend of sympathy and amusement while your eyes darted back and forth between him and Sebastian, wondering if Sebastian would realize the object of Ominis’ attraction.

“Hey Prewett,” you teased. “What’s this about you and Professor Garlick?”

You grinned as a crimson flush crept over Leander’s ears. 

“I merely find her to be a rather inspiring teacher,” he said indignantly. 

“More like you want to pull those braids,” Imelda said with a snicker.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Professor Sharp’s voice cut through the chatter. “Get to brewing. Recipe is on page 493.”

Meanwhile, Ominis looked hell-bent on busying himself with his potion.

“Need some help powdering your moonstone?” you asked kindly. Ominis seemed to sense your knowing smile.

“If you don’t mind,” he sighed. You couldn’t help but notice the way he was fidgeting with his peppermint leaves.

You eyed Sebastian for a moment, watching him tease Leander some more, to ensure he wasn’t listening.

“Perhaps you should write to Anne,” you offered softly. “I know she’d love to hear from you.”

“She doesn’t need any more stress in her life,” Ominis muttered quietly. 

“On the contrary, perhaps hearing from someone she cares for would help ease some of that stress,” you noted. Ominis seemed to mull your words over, but before he could respond, Imelda began pelting Leander with Ashwinder eggs.

It seems Leander had made a suggestive remark about Imelda fancying Garreth and was now facing the consequences.

At the front of the room, Professor Sharp sighed, though had anyone been paying him any attention, they might have noticed the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Still, he had appearances to keep up and strode briskly toward the sparring students just before Imelda could grab a fistful of Leander’s hair.

He gave Imelda and Leander detention and surveyed the remainder of the room before returning to his table up front. Natsai had busied herself with her brew, leaving her oblivious to the shifty glances she was receiving from Amit, who was looking much sweatier than usual.

Sebastian, who had been enjoying the chaos with outward glee, finally settled in front of his own cauldron to begin the assignment.

“So,” you said with careful deliberation in an attempt to appear casual. “You’re really not going to reveal what you smell?”

Sebastian offered you a pointed stare. “Can’t go telling you all my secrets, can I?” You responded with a dramatic eye roll. “Besides,” Sebastian continued, “I don’t see you revealing what you smell either.”

“Sallow, I thought you said you smelled lavender and cinnamon when you walked in,” Imelda, who had been eavesdropping, offered. She flashed an innocent smile at Sebastian, though you knew Imelda well enough to be sure it was facetious.

Sebastian’s freckled cheeks were flushed. His features tightened and you began to fear for Imelda’s safety.

“I said maybe cinnamon,” Sebastian lied. “I don’t really know what I smelled.”

“And what’s that on your shirt again?” Imelda asked you. Your stomach somersaulted no less than three times.

“It’s cinnamon,” you said carefully. “I always put it in my morning tea.”

“Oh, how interesting,” Imelda drawled as she smirked at you. “And what kind of perfume do you wear?”

“I… it’s… it’s a lavender perfume my mother gave me,” you answered.

“Lavender, you say? Hey Sallow, that’s quite a coincidence,” Imelda continued. Sebastian was looking positively distraught. You wanted to crawl under the table and hide, or find a secluded place to scream. Perhaps Professor Sharp had some poison on hand for a quick and painless death.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sebastian said simply. It was the wrong thing to say, because Imelda, when prompted, always pushed harder.

“I mean, you said you smell lavender and cinnamon in the Amortentia,” Imelda continued. “And it just so happens that your very best friend wears lavender perfume and puts cinnamon in her tea.”

“So what of it?” Sebastian snapped. You, unsure of what to make of these developments, remained quiet. What could you possibly say that wouldn't make both you and Sebastian feel like absolute and utter fools.

“Just think it’s an… interesting coincidence,” Imelda said simply before she returned to her potion.

You and Sebastian worked in excruciating silence for the remainder of the class, the scent of smoke and licorice assaulting your sense of smell as you completed your potion.

With 15 minutes remaining, Professor Sharp stalked around the classroom to observe his students’ progress. As he moved from table to table, he couldn’t help but pick up on the tension that emanated from each cluster of students.

He noticed Amit looking ill, possibly on the verge of passing out, while Natsai was locked in on her potion with alarming focus. Leander was scowling as he worked. Garreth was casting uneasy glances toward Imelda, who was still looking smug. Ominis was pretending to be hard at work, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere – like hundreds of miles south in London. 

And then there was you and Sebastian, working in silence though the tension you both carried in your jaws would have been concerning to Professor Sharp had it not been so entertaining. 

"Wait a minute," Sebastian said slowly as his head snapped up. His stare found Ominis and you shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "Ominis, didn't you say you smelled Anne's pain medication?" Sebastian asked sharply.

You held your breath as you watched the color drain from Ominis' face.

"Sebastian, look," Ominis started cautiously. "I'm not... I just- it's-"

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Sebastian demanded. An uneasy hush rolled over the entire room. All eyes in the classroom were on the Slytherin boys now.

"I'm sorry," Ominis blurted out. "I didn't know how. I didn't want you to get the wrong impression."

"But if you'd said something, I wouldn't have had to put up with listening to Anne's senseless pining," Sebastian continued.

"S-senseless pining?"

"Yes, you prat," Sebastian sighed. "Anne's had a thing for you since our third year."

Your jaw dropped. Professor Sharp fought to conceal a smile.

"Oh," was all Ominis could manage. Sebastian shook his head at his friend.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "You really thought I'd be angry with you?"

"You do have a proclivity for irrational ire," Ominis noted. You snorted over your cauldron.

"You're my oldest friend, mate," Sebastian continued. "You're the only person I'd want to end up with my sister."

"Oh."

A sudden scuffle at the back of the room stole the attention from the Slytherins. You craned your neck, your eyes widening as you realized Andrew Larson had Duncan Hobhouse in a headlock.

"Think you're going to steal my girl?" Andrew shouted at Duncan. "Coffee and biscuits? I know you smelled her." His hold on Duncan tightened, causing the smaller boy to whimper. Andrew finally released him with a shove, sending Duncan toppling to the floor. "If I ever catch you anywhere near her, I'll curse you to Marunweem."

Professor Sharp, who had rushed toward the altercation, scolded Andrew and sent him from the classroom. Duncan, who you could swear had tears in his eyes, slunk back to his seat.

“Hey Professor,” Imelda asked suddenly, her hand raised. 

“Yes, Reyes?” Professor Sharp sighed.

“You didn’t tell us what you smell in the Amortentia.”

Professor Sharp blinked in an effort to suppress his shock. His eyes drifted over the classroom, and he was met by wide, curious gazes. He should’ve known his quiet, calculated scheming would try to catch up to him one day. He cleared his throat and retreated toward his office door. “And on that note, class dismissed.”

Sebastian gathered his books in record time, his eyes glued to the floor as he made a beeline for the door. But you were just as quick.

“Sebastian,” you said as you caught up to him. Your own eyes darted around, looking anywhere but at the boy beside you. “Do… do you still want to work on Confringo target practice in the Undercroft later?”

“Huh? Oh- right. Yes. Of course.”

“Okay. I’ll bring the snacks this time.”

“Alright.”

“I was thinking cauldron cakes and licorice snaps. I’ve been craving them.”

Sebastian finally turned to meet your gaze, his brow furrowed in a frown. “You hate licorice.”

“I know,” you agreed. “But I have a feeling I’ll have a hankering for it later. After all, that’s what I smelled in my Amortentia.”

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Whoever you are, I love you and appreciate you for reading my crackfics 🥹 I appreciate every single one of you who has ever taken the time to even skim my nonsense. This fandom is small but so lovely and fun 💖

@whizzing-fizzbee 's collection of smutty stories are top tier!!!

Let's come together and hype @whizzing-fizzbee ✨you can read their work here and on ao3 👇

https://archiveofourown.org/users/whizzingfizzbee/pseuds/whizzingfizzbee

[whizzing-fizzbee]

If you’ve sent me an inbox prompt or are waiting on fic updates, I promise I’m not ignoring you! It’s been an insane work week and I also had to guest lecture a college class in addition to attending two concerts 😵‍💫 Plus, I’ve been held hostage by my latest hyperfixation (any of y’all watch The Pitt?)

This girly will definitely be writing this weekend, I swear!

[whizzing-fizzbee]

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Ahhh thank you @rambling-tam! You’re top of my list lately, and your list basically matches mine, but I also love reading any work by: @bookie-bookdust @dreamy-gal-30 @sloanesallow @writingsoftarnishedsilver

(FWIW, I’m terrible at reading fics because I spend all my free time writing them, so my inbox is always open to reading recs!)

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