Yknow the lil fanfic trope where a character, usually non-human, purrs like a cat. In this case it would obviously be Rocky but what if it was Grace instead hear me out-
I couldn't miss an opportunity to make epic geological phenotypes for eridians:D them rocks will look fly as hell on my watch!
Nerding out under the cut:)
For those interested, the igneous phenotype is inspired by granitic pegmatites, with hexagonal beryl crystals growing from it (of the aquamarine variety)
The sedimentary fella is a BIF, or a banded iron formation - a type of chemical sedimentary rock recording the years following the Great Oxygenation Event, with alternating bands of red jasper and magnetite/iron oxides:)
And the metamorphic eridian is inspired by an amphibolite, containing garnet gem porphyroblasts:)
ALL THAT YOU WANT / BABY, COME BACK TO ME ✹ sebastian sallow
( summary ) after developing an odd sort of romance with sebastian during your fifth year, you expected some sort of acknowledgment from him after the school year, but now it’s two weeks into your sixth year and he still hasn’t spoken to you.
( pairing ) sebastian sallow x female!reader (mc)
( notes/warnings ) set in the ‘the house of the rising sun’ universe! sebastian is so mean but it's not without reason and there is redemption later! , angst , hurt/no comfort (in this part) , reader is struggling a lot with the aftermath of the war and being a "hero" , i'll try have part two done asap!!!
part one , part two
For most of your life, you'd been naïve enough to believe that a forgetful world was a blind one. That to dismiss feeling, no matter how ruthless, was the lack of humanity, not the proof of it. But now, sat in a suffocating classroom, so close to the boy you knew you loved, you'd reach to gouge your eyes and cleanse your mind of this purgatory at any given chance.
It had been four months since Sebastian had last spoken to you, sparing you quick and vague words of congratulations as you passed him at the House Cup ceremony last May and nothing else. You'd written letters every day in June, every week in July, and every day again in August. Each correspondence went unanswered. You half-hoped you'd gotten his address wrong and he thought you were ignoring him, but a war waged and won in six months had stripped you of hope and you knew better than to have faith in wizards with large promises.
He was sat directly across from you now. You could see his knee bounce under the table and wondered if the sight of you made him as nervous as the sight of him did to you. The summer had done him well, you had to admit. Writings from Ominis informed you that he'd spent the months with a friend of his late uncle near Marunweem, a farmer who wasted no time in putting the Sallow boy to work in his fields. He'd grown, not by much, but enough to make his robes slightly too short in the ankles and too tight in the shoulders. A lingering tan darkened the freckles on his face and forearms making your fingers itch with the urge to reach out and trace them like you had many months ago.
What lay between you and Sebastian hadn't been a romance in the classic sense. Both merely fifteen, facing villains and curses beyond your wildest imagination, you had no time to learn what it truly meant to court someone. But the warmth was always there, in the quiet, subtle ways.
It showed in how close he stood by you in Herbology, never anything more than the drag of his robes brushing against yours, but far more intentional than when he moved past Nellie Oggspire to reach the fertilizer. It was the way you never looked anywhere but him when he spoke. How he held doors for you, and how you ran the tips of your fingers along the back of his hands as he taught you wand positioning.
You never spoke about it, never confronted your longing head-on, but it was always there. For you, it still was.
At the welcome feast, you tried to reach his eyes when Headmaster Black made comment about the Restricted Section, hoping to share with him once more a quiet laugh that nobody else could claim, but his gaze never left the table in front of him, as if he were trying to etch the grain into his mind.
A knock to your knee jolted your from your daze and reminded you that you were not in a fable of love, but instead a droning Divination class. "You're thinking about it again, aren't you?"
Almost more shocking than the lack of Sebastian's correspondence that summer, was the excess of Imelda's. It seemed the girl had grown fond of you, the only one who made effort to see her as more than a hyper-competitive prodigy. By the end of June, she'd taken you flying through further parts of the Highlands and introduced you to most of her family, all just as charming and intense as she was, although you couldn't tell if that was good of not. Regardless of that, she had quickly cemented her place as one of your best friends.
She'd been there while you wrote most of your letters to Sebastian, judged you for most of them, but melted the wax for your seal nonetheless. She held mild distaste for the boy before, but it had grown to pure hatred now.
"Perhaps." You responded, hoping your vagueness would spare the remainder of your dignity.
"Perhaps." She mimicked with a teasing smile. "It would do you good to think about this instead, you know I'm no good at reading these stupid bloody cards--"
"It would do you good, Miss Reyes, to respect the Arcana and keep such language out of my classroom." Professor Onai's voice cut from over your shoulder's. Imelda's cheeks flared, while yours puffed in a poorly-veiled laugh.
"Apologies, Professor." She mumbled, embarrassed, delivering a harsh elbow to your side after Onai left and you let a giggle slip out.
"Remember, students, draw three cards each. What was, what is, and what will be."
Imelda took the deck in her hands. "I'll draw for you first if you check the meanings." You nodded while she shuffled. "Alright, what was..." She turned the top card to reveal The Hanged Man. It's morbid illustration had you sucking in a harsh breath. You turned to find its page.
"The Hanged Man, upright meaning sacrifice and martyrdom."
"Seems fitting, Hero of Hogwarts." Imelda laughed to herself as you kicked her shin. "Now, what is..." She turned the next card and paused. "Death."
A knot tied in your stomach, but a soothing voice washed over you soon after. "The meanings of cards will often betray your perception of them." Professor Onai warned. "Find it before you worry." She offered you a kind and encouraging smile.
"Death, upright meaning the end of a cycle, new beginnings, and change." Tension bled from your shoulders with a deep sigh.
"Not as scary as it seemed, hmm?" Professor Onai hummed.
"Depends who you ask." Imelda retorted, more to herself than anyone else. "Last card, what will be..." She bit her lip in concentration as she turned the final card. "Four of Cups. Reversed."
You hurried to find its page, buried in the book's centre. "Reversed meaning sudden awareness, choosing happiness, and acceptance!" A relived smile made its way across your face.
"I told you this year would be your best yet." Imelda chided.
"Quite poor competition to go against." You countered with a laugh, calming just in time to hear the loud voice of Everett Clopton reciting Sebastian's reading.
"...what was...The High Priestess reversed. Often meaning..." He trailed off, searching for the definition. A quick glance over showed Sebastian was barely paying attention to the boy beside him, instead staring at the crystal ball on their able. "Lack of centre, loss of judgement, and repressed feelings!"
As Everett delved into a tangent on his own interpretation of the cards, you busied yourself with Imelda's reading, revealing a past of repression and isolation, as well as a future of bountiful success. "Didn't need a lousy deck to tell you that." She joked, rolling up her parchment while the rest of the students around you packed their things.
"What will be..." Clopton's voice rang clear and made Imelda stifle a snort.
"Is he still going?" She asked you, but you barely heard, ears straining to catch a glimpse of Sebastian's future.
"Ten of Cups, upright meaning... inner happiness, dreams coming to life, and fulfilment."
Sebastian stiffened in an instant, his relaxed and bored disposition gone so quick you'd wonder was it there at all. "Cheers, mate." He rushed out, gathering his things in his arms and fleeing as soon as Onai dismissed the class. For a second, a blink and you miss it beat, you could've sworn he looked right at you.
"That was strange." You mused as you and Imelda descended the Divination ladder.
"I don't want to know what that creature dreams about." Imelda sneered. "Other than a lifetime of solitude."
"Who dreams of solitude?" Natty chimed in from your left.
"And I hope you're not using 'creature' as an insult again." Poppy followed after her.
"Sebastian." Imelda answered before you could. "And there's no better way to describe him, Poppy. He's a beast."
"He's not that bad"
"Beasts aren't that bad." You and Poppy responded simultaneously and the awkward, bordering on judgemental, silence that followed made your skin crawl.
"Regardless," Natty began, swatting her hand to bat away the tension, "Shall we go to Hogsmeade tomorrow night? I heard Leopold the Bard is playing in the Three Broomsticks."
Poppy gasped excitedly. "Absolutely! I can't pass on the chance to see him in person. The cousin of a girl in the dorm beside mine met him in Ireland a few months ago and he dedicated Ode to The Willow Tree to her!"
"You'd have to fight every girl in our year to be the Willow Girl, Poppy." Said Imelda, a fond smile growing on her face.
"Don't tempt her, she might actually do it." You added with a laugh.
"Then I'll definitely go." Poppy swatted Imelda's arm, though it was barely a tap.
A sudden twist of nerves hit you, whether it was lingering thoughts of Sebastian's reading, or the idea of a crowd when people still called you 'Hero', the notion of going out that night stirred nothing but worry. "I think I'll stay in this time."
A look of minor heartbreak flashed across each of the girls' faces. "Are you alright?" Poppy asked.
"I'm perfectly fine, just been feeling slightly run-down lately is all. I was planning on finishing my Potions report and going right to bed. You three must go, though! And tell me all about it the next morning." Natty and Poppy nodded, but you could see in Imelda's eyes that she didn't believe your half-truth. "Have a Butterbeer in my honour."
Begrudgingly, the Reyes girl nodded. "We'll drink in your name when he plays Hollow Eve."
"And get him to address a love letter to me, as well."
"Poppy would change her name and keep it as hers before we could reach you." Natty teased, to which Poppy let out an indignant 'Hey!'.
As the four of you made your way to the Great Hall you could feel your ears burning, the eyes that followed you practically burning a hole into your robes. This was, unfortunately, your new norm. The whispers followed you wherever you went, be them of reverence or fear, all of them added to the fire surrounding your name. You were not a mere student anymore, no, that title was too mundane. Now you were a legend to some, a god to most. It made your stomach turn, the attention, the weight.
After protecting the repository, you were told you would live a normal life, that the danger was gone and although the Wizarding World would forever be in your debt, you were now allowed to take your time to find your true place in it. How stupid of you to believe that even remotely true.
You were a weapon, in truth. A tool for the Ministry to wield at their whim because they knew at your core you were weak to the helpless, that your servitude would save them time and manpower. What did the mental toll on you matter if it meant families didn't suffer the loss of a father dead in battle? How selfish of you to ask for a break. Danger waits for no one, don't you know?
Ranrok may have fallen but his death deified him to his followers; the God struck down too soon. Though many retreated at the mere threat of your name, enough to harm still lingered and loitered with the sole intention of causing pain. They followed no organised regime, pillaging whatever poor village they passed, silently praying you would arrive and they could enact vengeance. You had them dealt with before tea got cold.
"Your fan club is waiting for you." Imelda teased, subtly pointing to the group of roughly 15 underclassmen huddled outside the doors to the Hall. They whispered amongst themselves, quiet enough to hide the specifics of their worship, but loud enough for anyone near to know who they spoke of. Parchment was gripped to the point of crinkling in their grips, and one of the smaller ones' eyes lit up when she saw you, batting the others' arms with an elated gasp.
A feeling of dread crawled up your throat. You couldn't ignore them now, it was too late for that, but their praises made you feel ill. They loved you for the wrong reasons, for the blood your drew, you lives you saved only by slaughtering men and women who had children waiting for them at home. Why was it so easy for people to forget people they disagree with have people who miss them too?
But weapons do not feel remorse, nor are they allowed to question their purpose. You swallowed your bitterness and let your friends carry on without you with the promise to save you a seat. You smiled with practiced grace as they passed you quills and shouted out their names. Shallow compliments received hollow thanks in return. It felt like even more people were staring once they were done, and the prospect of entering that Hall was something you couldn't stand, so you turned on your heel and walked towards the Dark Arts tower instead.
Perhaps your new destination was foolish, you hadn't stepped foot there since the school year started, but you knew Sebastian had History of Magic now, so the main threat was gone. The Undercroft had been a sanctuary to you last year, a solace. A familiar warmth filled you as you tapped your wand against the door and stepped through its unfurling mechanism.
It stood just as you remembered it, vast, dusty, echoing and seemingly endless in the illusion of its dark corners. Your shoes tapped against the stone as you entered and in the quiet you heard the sharp suck of a breath. Your heart jumped in your chest. "Ominis?" You called, voice taut with shock. Only silence greeted you.
Your brows furrowed, had you only imagined the sound? Surely not. Over the past few months, you'd learned to read silence better than most. You were not alone in this room. As you pressed on, walking further in, your eyes scanned the walls. "Hello?" You called again to no avail.
It was only when your eyes crossed the forgotten corner where Isadora's triptych stood that you saw a shadow out of place. The soft billowing of a robe that swayed with the wearer's breath. Slightly too high at the ankles.
As you stepped closer, you saw a sight that would've made you laugh last year. Sebastian's shoulders were tense and he stood so close to the wall it seemed as though he was waiting for the stone to swallow him. He looked like a child caught stealing in Honeydukes. It was the closest he'd allowed you to be since May.
He didn't say anything, didn't even look at you. For a moment, you didn't either, wracking your brain for something that wouldn't scare him off because this was all you'd been waiting for.
"Hello." The words left you soft, tentative. It was a tone he recognised, had seen you use on injured civilians and trembling creatures in cages. He felt more like the latter. Your greeting was met with no answer.
"I worried for you over summer." You noticed his fingers tighten as they pulled on a loose string. "I wrote to you. I'm not sure if you got them." Your heart ached. "Ominis told me you were well, that you wrote to him." His next breath shook slightly, something one would only notice if they paid the utmost attention, which you always did. "Sebastian, have I done something to-"
Suddenly, in a fast motion that cut through the budding tension, he turned to face you, jaw clenched and eyes wide and red-rimmed. "Are you thick?"
His tone was like a slap to the face. Gone was the gentleness he once reserved for you, now he spoke with anger. Anger so visceral that if you thought about it enough sounded a lot like hatred. "Excuse me?" You winced at how fragile you sounded, how small you stood.
"Do you really think it's a coincidence that I missed every single letter of yours, and haven't said anything to you since we got back? I'm wondering if you're a lot more idiotic that I gave you credit for or if you just can't imagine someone not revering the Hero of Hogwarts." He spat it like poison, every word a dagger. "If you only understand plain speak, then let me help. I do not want to talk to you. Whatever happened last year does not mean I owe you anything."
Your mouth opened and closed foolishly. It was clear to you that it was now you who looked like a child. "I never said you did. But I- I thought we were friends."
Something vaguely similar to guilt flashed across his face before he blinked it away. "You were wrong. I needed something, you had it. We were allies at most." There was a finality to how he said it, a kind of authority that let you know all memories you had tucked away in your head were false.
You thought you knew Sebastian Sallow, you were wrong. The boy whose breathing matched yours in a cold cave by Cragcroft was different to the boy who had more freckles on his right cheek than on his left who was different to the boy before you now.
A harsh swallow brought you to your senses, a spark of anger breaking through the hurt. You once told yourself you would take anything you could get from Sebastian Sallow, but that was the boy you loved. This was a stranger who earned no such allowances.
"If that is how you feel, then I shall leave you to it. And you need not worry about me bothering you any longer." You turned and walked away with your head held high. As you reached the door, you spoke again. "Sebastian?" You didn't need an answer to know he was listening. "If you ever speak to me like that again, I won't grant you the grace of a friend."
The first time Sebastian Sallow looked at you, a selfish need stirred in his gut. There was a want deep within him, a carnal urge to take and to twist. Maybe it was the lamb-like innocence with which you took each tentative step along the length of the Great Hall. The nervous pulling and popping of your knuckles as the hat deliberated your future.
He was not a boy born cruel, in fact his cruelty was so far from his blood that is was hardly recognised as cruel. But his intent was always there. He was angry. He wanted to cause hurt. In every duel where he went too far, in every argument he spat venom, in the way he wanted to make you preen to his every word, it was there. His hunger for control.
So much in his life had been taken without consideration, so much was out of his control. His parents, his sister, his life. He needed to feel as though he mattered, that his voice carried some semblance of weight. He hadn't felt that in a pure sense, nothing truly good was drawn to him, so he let darkness take it for him.
It had worked in his favour for so long, leeching off your kindness, playing mentor and savant. He almost believed it was true, that he deserved this. You were the best person he knew, so utterly devoted to a world you hardly knew. He taunted you with the title at first, but there was an earnest to it, you truly were a hero.
Maybe that was where his envy stemmed. Your friendships with others was proof that one can be good and still hold power. Poppy Sweeting hung to your every word, followed every whim you presented to her, and loved you still. His excuses had no ground left to stand on. There was no reasoning for his cruelty now. He couldn't hide behind the guise of attempted good. Beside you, he couldn't hide from what he was. A villain.
He knew if your roles were reversed, he wouldn't have spared you from Azkaban. Not as blind as he was then, anyway. He wouldn't have covered for you, taken the blame for leaving grounds, for causing fights, for any of it. He knew if your roles were reversed, he wouldn't have had to, because you were far too good to cause half the trouble he had.
His guilt tore up his stomach with a vigour that convinced him that the only way to spare you from its wrath was to abandon you. Your first few letters had his eyes clouded and bile inching up his throat, the rest he learned to ignore.
The worst hurt, though, was when Ominis met him at a teashop in Diagon Alley and told him Anne had been writing to you. Often, too, by the amount of stories you had relayed to Ominis. She was in Paris, she prompted you to visit some coming weekend, you were delighted to accept and tell her you'd begun your own research, that you found a way to channel your magic to heal her, no collateral needed. She was cured, set to finish her studies in Beauxbatons, set to live a full life.
It was the last reminder he needed to cement the fact he already knew. You were better than him in all ways. You did what he could not. Then an ugly resentment grew within him, made him question all he knew, made him question you.
One could not receive the praise you did and still remain good, he knew he wouldn't, so you mustn't either. You were playing a game, only trying to keep him beside you so his shortcomings made you look even more divine. He had thought he was the one controlling you, but you'd made him your dog.
He voiced this to Ominis, raving like a madman about how you must have been lying about the Keepers, they must have told you how to help Anne and you kept it to your chest until the right moment. His ramble was cut off with a sharp blow to the cheek. An angry red print lingered where Ominis' hand landed. The blond looked more furious than Sebastian had ever seen him.
"How dare you, Sebastian." He spat. "Whatever childish rage you have towards her is misguided and has turned you to a fool. Just because you cannot fathom kindness without reward does not mean that is the truth. You know as well as I do that she would do anything for anyone, especially for you. Whether you are jealous she is purer than you and I combined, or whether it is anger that you shut her away before you could atone and confess, I do not know, nor do I care. However, I will not allow you to spew such filth about the girl who saved your life. Your sister's life."
With that, he stormed away, not saying another word to Sebastian until the Sallow boy wrote to him a fortnight later to apologise.
Sebastian Sallow was no daisy-fresh boy. He was Eurydice, weathered by cold storms and heavy words. The strings of fate were woven tightly around his neck — tugging, tugging; his golden noose. With naught to his name but his devotion and his wits, Sebastian had learned that loving someone would only distract him from what he needed. To survive.
You were no sweet summer child either. No, you’d felt the breath of a dragon and tasted the air cleft in twain by goblin silver axes. There was no innocence left to take, but still you brought spring. Orpheus enters from the left wing, pulling sunshine in her wake. It was an enigma that puzzled the Sallow boy more than whatever sick spite drove the fates; how hadn’t your hardships hardened you in turn? How could you still love?
That, he realised, was what he really hated about you. You had both been hurt since birth, you had both witnessed and caused death, you had both been driven to the brink of insanity. You were able to look beyond it, to light, to joy, to hope. He was not.
It only became more apparent when you returned from summer, having clearly fared well under the sun and gentle love of your true friends, you came back more beautiful than ever. He hated how his heart pounded in his chest.
Even though you made sure nobody knew the extent of his involvement in your work the year prior, Sebastian had still ostracised himself from the rest of the student body. Ominis was the only one who actively spoke to him, Grace Pinch-Smedley would sometimes ask how he was over breakfast, but that was only during the first week, before Imelda told her how he'd been ignoring you. The most anyone else offered him was a nod and polite conversation when paired together.
You, however, seemed to thrive. It seemed you never went anywhere without at least one of your girls, and even if you were, for whatever reason, alone, it wouldn't be long before another friend or admirer clambered to your side. Gone was the girl who shook behind Headmaster Black and looked fit to apologise for breathing too loud. He heard what they called you, honestly dubbing you what he meant as a joke. The Hero of Hogwarts.
He could make peace with this, lay in the bed he made. He was close to grown, he could live with the consequences of his actions. He told himself all of this and truthfully believed it. Even though he felt like crying every time he felt yours eyes desperately search for his, even though he wanted to puke every time Leander Prewett leaned a bit to close while he commended your magical prowess. He could manage.
Or at least, he could manage before Everett Clopton's stupid tarot reading.
Judgement reversed on his present — regret, guilt, facing the consequence of past mistakes. He felt his face pale and his hands shake, that sinking feeling only worsening when he heard you laughing with Imelda, loud and unrestrained.
And then his future, that promise of dreams coming true, of happiness. Sebastian had told himself he was okay with this, with missing you, admiring you, ignoring you, but you still plagued his dreams, sleeping and waking.
Hope was a dangerous thing for a boy like him to have. Sebastian knew he didn't deserve that future, one where you inevitably forgive him and hold him like nothing before mattered. The dream of a picket fence and children with some of his traits and all of yours was one he knew, no matter what he did, he would never truly earn.
He had wanted it so badly it hurt, to wait for you to reach him under a veil of white as you wait to be dubbed Mrs. Sallow. He wanted the quiet moments stolen between the busyness of your life, the kiss to his nose as you woke with the dawn, the drag of his hand along your waist as he passed you in the kitchen. A domestic life where he cooks the meals and you clean the dishes while the kettle boils for tea shared on a swing chair on your porch, watching the sun set over a horizon you protected.
He wanted to grow old with you, to know if you'd still be as spry chasing Ashwinders in 20 years, if your hair would lighten, if the smile you wore so often would leave creases by your eyes with age. He wanted to know how you would change as the years pass, though he already knows you'll still leave him weak at the sight of you.
He wanted the plainness of a nightgown at dusk, the dimpling of skin under his hands and lips when your only company was the moon, the extravagance of a ballgown for a party thrown in your honour. Everything and anything that could come from a life with you, Sebastian yearned for, and he hated that Ten of Cups for making him think he could ever have it.
When he left that tower he knew the last thing he could do was listen to Professor Binns drone on about a fallen knight who Sebastian could simply read about later, if he didn't know him already, that is. So with a busy mind and his heart in his throat, he all but ran to the Undercroft.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he was pulling at the knot in his tie, suddenly finding the room far too suffocating. Pacing back and forth, he tried to clear his heed, tugging at his hair and breathing heavily when it didn't work. All the anger and fear he felt towards the world was creeping in once more, that far-too-familiar darkness rearing its head once more.
Like a siren's call, some unspoken lull pulled him slowly towards the triptych and something resembling a sob wrenched from his chest. He hadn't expected to cry, hadn't even felt the lump build in his throat. He figured he'd done enough of it during the summer, but the tears spilled out hot and fast nonetheless.
It was moments like this where he truly hated himself for pushing you away. You'd seen him like this before, during fifth year, when his mind was boggled with Salazar and he found himself slowly losing hope. You held him to your chest and cradled him with so much sincere love it put him to sleep in mere minutes.
It was moments like this where he truly realised he would never be half the man you deserved, though he could feel in the weight of your stare across classrooms that he was still that man you wanted. You were too good for him, too kind, too heavily burdened already to shoulder the weight of him.
The fabric of Isadora's paintings, torn from an outburst of his before the prior year ended, seemed to taunt him. Each wisp of paint wielded a separate voice, playing his own cruel words back on innocent ears. He heard himself now as you had before and wondered even more how you could still want him, how you could still care.
A sniffle masked the sound of the door opening, but upon hearing the click of shoes that could hardly be Ominis', a gasp tore through him. He heard how gentle your voice was, could practically feel the worry you had for him in the way you all but whispered your words. You still wanted him, and that was something he couldn't allow you to do.
Sebastian Sallow, he was now learning, was right about very few things. But he was right about being your dog, so he did what dogs in a corner do best. He bit. He barked, he threw all his anger at himself into words he could never truly mean in the vain hopes it would make you see him for what he thought he was. Nobody could love him enough to stay after this.
And he was right about that too, he thought. As you pulled away and threw ice his way at the door.
What you didn't know, what you'd never know if he could help it, was how his tears returned the second he was sure you were gone and how his robe gathered dust as his knees gave out and sent him crashing to the floor.
summary :: very very soft smut of virgin Sebastian and MC reader. With plot! With feelings!
warning :: seventh year. Very soft, virgin Sebastian and reader, touching over clothes, dry humping, oral f receiving, raw, references to the angst that happened in the game, purity culture (yes, it's the 1890s), lots of love and fluffy stuff. Also there's a spider bite. Possible mistakes, I wasn’t able to check over the entire thing.
note :: I’m forever a hater of rough smut, ‘you like that, you dirty slut?’ uhm no, why are you calling me names!!
“Sebastian, down here.”
“Found something?”
“There’s a cave connected to her home.”
Isidora Morganach's home, or at least one of her homes. You weren't quite sure. It had plenty of notes and discoveries on her adventures travelling after graduating from Hogwarts, some keepsakes from other countries, and plenty of chests already emptied out. The home was ancient and very worse for wear, the roof had long since cave in, allowing the rain from above to patter against both you and Sebastian. You had spotted a deep cavern within the corner of her living-room. Big enough to fit the both of you.
"After you," said Sebastian, gesturing to the dark, black entrance.
You would've retorted, if you hadn't felt so seriously. It had been two years since you'd dealt with anything related to Isadora and the sudden discovery that one of her homes was merely a broomstick flight away from Hogwarts felt troubling to your intuition.
Sebastian could practically see the tension in your body when you first told him.
"I heard rumours of a home that could've belonged to Isadora nearby the castle."
“Isadora?” He choked on the food he’d served himself.
"Yes. I'm going to go and search it after dinner." Something troubling swirled in your eyes and Sebastian jumped to distract you from it.
"I'll come with you." He said.
"This might be something I'll have to do on my own, Sebastian." You stated. If there was a trial or something related to ancient magic, he wouldn't be able to do anything. Professor Fig never could. You'd be better off alone.
"You won't even take me as a chaperone?" Sebastian asked, grinning at you.
It was that grin that had him coming with you to the half rubble household, in the pouring rain, at the dead of night.
Your search was cut short when the moment you reached the end of the slope into the cave, a six legged beast jumped you. You recognised it as a hatchling, small for its kind but big enough to knock you off your feet. You attempted to reach for your wand but the large pincers found your arm, the hollow fangs sinking into your tissue. A sharp wail escaped you as the venom soaked into your muscle.
"Incendio!" The spider was thrown off of you with a quick ball of flame and Sebastian replaced it, kneeling at your side and pulling you up.
"It got me." You hissed, revealing your torn up sleeve.
He cursed, then took your wrist in his large hand and pushed back the fabric of your sleeve, bringing your numbing arm to his mouth. He latched on before you could quite make sense of his actions, he sucked twice against your raw skin and then spat to the floor next to him. Again, he sucked on the bite then spat out what you hoped was most of the venom, and what looked to be some of your blood, and perhaps some rainwater.
You couldn’t be sure the flush falling over your face was from the venom or not, but the dizziness that followed suggested the first.
Through the haze of the sickening poison flooding your system and the feverish puffs of air you let out, you could hone in on Sebastian’s final part from your irritated skin. A thin, watery string of spit connected him to your arm before it broke and he turned to gauge the effects of the venom on your face.
“Wiggenweld?” You had some faint idea he had said something else, but you weren’t sure.
“My pocket.” You huffed, eye-line peering up at the dark, rocky ceiling dripping rain.
You recalled another flush passing over you, whilst desperate hands pat over your sides, legs and chest. Soon enough, the hands found what they were looking for. After that, a vile pressed to your lips and you felt yourself return to your pained body. Your legs must’ve given out, because Sebastian held you against himself, one hand cupped around your jaw.
“I’m alright.” You croaked, his hold loosening and giving you space. Your stiff legs ached at your weight and you patted your pockets for another wiggenweld potion, but came up empty. You let out a tired groan.
“Let’s head back.” He said.
"But we've yet to look everywhere." You gazed around the dark and rocky cave, slithers of other spiders echoing through the darkness.
"The house won't be going anywhere, we can come back when you're well again."
Still, you shook your head. “It’s the middle of the night, we’ll surely be caught by some prefect if I’m in this state.”
“It’s worth it, we’ve got to get you another potion and get you right.”
So reluctantly, you let Sebastian help you out of the cave and onto your broom, keeping a weary eye on you until you snuck back into the castle.
Sebastian muttered something about peeves when you entered, your arm around his shoulder and a light hand on your side, keeping you steady as though he was a friend helping you home after a night of drinking. You needed a brewing stand to rid you of this horrid, sickening ache and the fuzziness behind your eyes.
"What in merlin's name..." A nearby wall began to shift, swirls of a door began to form and you had never been so relieved to see the entrance to the room of requirement form for you. It felt like a dear friend coming to your aid.
"Inside, come on." You ushered, pulling Sebastian along. He held you closer, mumbling 'careful.' at your quickness.
Sebastian sat you down carefully on the closest thing he could, which happened to be a plush settee that you couldn't remember placing when you were last here. Perhaps the room had conjured it up just for you.
"My brewing stand, it should be over there." You blurted.
"You've really decked this place out." He muttered and behind you, you could hear the sizzling of a potion brewing. Sebastian had followed you into the room once or twice before, but not enough to be acquainted to it like you were. An uncomfortable minute passed before Sebastian handed you the potion which spread relief through your body once you drunk it.
He watched your eyes keenly for any haze or sickly glossiness. "Another?" He asked.
"No I'm alright." You nodded. He sighed thankfully and you smiled at his relief. “I’ve never known you to be the doting type, Sebastian.” You uttered contently, placing down the empty vile.
“Well, you’ve never needed doting.” He rounded the large settee and sat beside you.
"I never thought you had it in you to be so… gentle."
The word stunned Sebastian, but only for a moment. "Me? Not gentle? How could you ever come to think so low of me?" He jested, an eyebrow raised your way.
"Apologies, I don't know what could've convinced me otherwise." A lot lurked behind your retort, and although you could still see a grin on his face, Sebastian's shoulders deflated. "I'm only joking." You quickly added. "You've always had a soft side, I've been especially reaping the benefits of it in our recent time spent together."
"Well, I'd ought to start treating you well some time in our friendship." He continued, a playfulness added to his somewhat serious statement.
You hummed, although awkwardly. After fifth year, Sebastian had somewhat clung to you. Soloman was dead, Anne had left and his relationship with Ominis had never been so broken. All his time, his loyalty, his effort and his love was directed to you because, plainly, you were the only one who stuck around. You were the only one he'd give it all to, whether you were completely aware of it or not.
So when the two of you tipped around his less than stellar actions towards you, you could see the guilt wrack him. See his regret. Inwardly, Sebastian wished to scrub the memories of his slights against you from your brain. He wasn't that boy anymore. He wasn't so obsessed with finding a cure for Anne, driven by his one-track mind. No, now you had become his obsession. His motivations now revolved around you and he pursued you just as relentlessly as he pursued that cure for Anne, maybe even more so. Perhaps he is the same boy from two years ago.
You glanced at him, his eyes downcast to the marble floor. "I know you always cared for me. Just... Sometimes you had a funny way of showing it." You played with the hem of your skirt, rubbing the fabric between your index and forefinger. "You're a true friend Sebastian, don't doubt that."
"You're one to talk." He suddenly grinned, arm stretching out on the camel back of the sofa, close enough anyone else would consider Sebastian had his arm around you.
"Am I?" You smiled, less wary.
"The entire cohort is deeply in love with you. Perhaps some of the teachers too. I'm sure Professor Wesley would give just about anything to adopt you, and I've never seen Sharp so kind to someone. Truely, it's terrifying."
You shook your head, laughing. "Oh stop, there are plenty who don't like me. What about Imelda?"
"Don't be daft, she'd drop just about anything for you I'm sure." He hummed, smiling at the idea (although it made his affection towards you feel slightly less significant. Still, you were here with him, not Imelda or any other adoring fan you had. That must've counted for something). "You might consider me a charmer, but you're like an Amortentia potion given life."
"Compliments like these are precisely why I enjoy spending time with you Sebastian." You said. Sebastian chuckled lowly.
"Cheeky." He commented.
"So then, can I consider you deeply in love with me too? You did say everyone in our cohort." Daring, but you enjoyed the rush of flirting with Sebastian whenever the opportunity arose.
"Imelda, the teachers, even Ominis and yes, me."
The space between you somehow lessened, the teasing drawing your faces together. In a moment of weakness, yours eyes darted to his smiling lips. He’d caught the glance, igniting a wild tinkle in his eyes. He knew where your thoughts lie and you could see it in the way he looked at you. He took your cheek in his hand and you retracted into nervousness, opening your mouth to say something before Sebastian leaned in to pressed a kiss to your lips.
It felt curt at first, because Sebastian broke away too soon, perhaps because he realised to gravity of his action. But you trailed after him, following his lips and giving him the desire to kiss you again. So he did.
This time, with the assurance of you kissing him back, passion bloomed.
He rested an eager hand on your side, his other still holding your face. His fingers threaded through your hair as his lips pushed into you, with longing and need. It wasn’t messy, nor sloppy, just long moments of intimacy between quick breaths.
After a quick separation, Sebastian dove into you again, furthering his weight into you until you relented and laid back against the sofa, pulling him down with you whilst you kissed.
You utterly lost yourself in the swirls of emotions, drowning in the desire to just be with him, and feel him. It felt hot, light, but above all it felt natural.
Both hands now cupped your sides, pressing you into the pillows. His mouth moved to your cheek, then jaw and you attempted to breath out and slow your racing pulse but the sound that left you was much more vocal than you wanted it to be.
Sebastian stopped and you quickly sobered from the passion. He raised himself off of you, and you jolted up.
He wiped a hand over his mouth. “This is… compromising.” He muttered whilst you were being brought back to the reality of what you were doing.
Kissing Sebastian— kissing anyone!—Alone in a room together, with wandering hands and hot bodies. It was completely and utterly shameful. It wasn’t as though you were innocent children who could get away with linking arms or coupled rendezvous, the two of you were about to graduate and enter ‘proper society’ and however forward thinking the magical word was compared to the muggle word, hooking up with your dearest friend with no ring was still considered dishonourable.
“It is.” You nodded, wide eyed. Would you still be able to wear a white wedding dress after this? Was it allowed? What even was ‘being unclean’? Did making out count? The dizzying feeling returned. All you wanted to do was rewind time and stop yourself from ever making a peep so that Sebastian would’ve continued his journey down your body.
And clearly, Sebastian didn’t want his exploration to end either because his hands lingered around your uniform vest.
“Are you hot?” He asked, eyes dark and utterly taken by you.
“A little, yes.” You nodded, keenly watching his hands encompass the first button.
"May I?"
"Yes." You sighed shakily.
He was slow to thread the black buttons through their slits, opening your chest up to the cool air inside the room of requirement. It seemed the rain had also dampened the fabric underneath the vest, clinging it to your skin. The sight elicited a rough exhale from Sebastian whose reflex was to avert his gaze. He slid the vest off of you and rested his hands at your torso.
"Are you alright?" You asked in hopes to catch his eyes.
"Yes. I'm more than alright, actually." You would laugh if the comment hadn't made goosebumps rise on your skin. He finally returned to face you. “Can I kiss you again?”
“Yes.” You replied, with an embarrassing eagerness.
He returned from where he left you, kissing your jaw and then ear with such lightness it could’ve been a peck from a pixie. You weren’t sure what you expected, but the way he held you cried love and devotion. Treating your skin like porcelain, and your lips like a favourite dessert he needed to savour (lest he never eat it again). You supposed Sebastian would be a fast lover, a man who would take as he desired and give his all.
This was slow, relaxing, gentle and kind. Almost melancholy. As though with every simple kiss he pressed to your lips, he was apologising.
However you were done with apologies from Sebastian. You wanted his love without guilt.
So you took his face in your hands and kept him locked to your lips for a rhythmic kiss which had his hands clenching and his head feeling light from the rush of blood south. Now you could feel him adjusted to you, taking your lead.
Sebastian decided, when you whimpered at the sensation of his tongue sliding across your lip, that this moment would forever vex him during nights of loneliness.
You weren’t sure when, but his hand had found itself on your inner thigh, below the safeguard of your skirt and squeezing your leg in assurance. His thumb dragged over the dip on your stocking, so close to where you longed most.
As your tongue met his in a long swipe, he squeezed you again but this time the squeeze portrayed a promise, that he was going to touch you and draw pleasure from you.
Your heart skipped a beat, and the butterflies became too much to bear.
“Sebastian— I’m, I’m worried.” You gasped, breathing out a shaken breath.
His hands were away from you, almost in an instant and most unfortunately so was his mouth. “Then we should stop.”
“But I—” You couldn’t allow yourself to truely express you wanted more, wanted to continue and be enveloped by him. But he knew, like he always did, what you wanted.
So against his better judgment, Sebastian mumbled a quiet “Sorry.” To your previously untouched maidenhood, then found your body with his lips again.
He needed this. He loved you too much to stop.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” You asked meekly, as he kissed and sucked at the skin that peaked from your collar.
“I can’t say I’m experienced, but I know what I want to do.”
“What’s that?” You dared to inquire.
“Show you how dear you are to me.”
You whispered a too-soft 'okay' before laying down on your back, like a cat showing its belly to signify its trust. The gesture and the sight of you sprawled out for him, made Sebastian grab his clenched jaw and hide the red settling under his freckles.
You could see a reservation form— or perhaps it was an anxiousness to please swirling in his eyes. You couldn’t tell, but he watched you intensely as his hand traveled down, past your beating chest, over the knobs of your ribs until he dived under your skirt and made his stop at where you burned for him.
His thumb glided over your core and the space between you two felt as though you were on a stage and Sebastian was the only audience member. You had gasped and excitement flickered in his dark eyes. Again, he dragged his thumb over you but with more weight and your previous gasp turned into a whimper. You held onto him, pulling him down into you to avoid his excited stare. His body blanketed you, his scent enveloping you along with the masculine weight of him.
You could feel his hand shift, dulled by the fabric of your stockings then the force of his palm rub against your clothed bundle of nerves. Your legs attempted to close at the sensation, but Sebastian's body kept them open to him. Your chest pounded uncomfortably, so fast and so heavy with the weight of your first-time arousal.
His lips locked to your neck again, his free hand pulling at your tie and unbuttoning the first button on your blouse. Now he kissed a lower, new, more sensitive territory. He moved to the second button and you thought it was impossible for your chest to thud any faster until his wet lips reached a particular sweet spot between your shoulder and neck whilst his other hand worked your sex.
“My heart.” You whimpered, tugging at his robe. His hand halted, resting around your thigh. The sigh he exhaled lingered on the skin of your neck before he leaned to press his ear against your chest.
He listened for seconds, long enough for your fingers to find their way to his hair. You hadn’t realised he held stiffness until his body relaxed into you at the tender rake of your nails through his soft brown locks.
“I’m sorry, I can’t control my nerves.” You said, catching your breath and willing your anxious heart to slow.
“Don’t be.” He countered, lifting his head from your thudding chest. “I’m affected by all this, too.” He took your hand and pressed it into his chest. You quickly felt the thick beats of his pulse, in a rhythm that easily matched your own.
He returned to lay over you, between your legs, with his head beside your own. You clung to his body that draped over you like a blanket along with his wet, wood smell that you'd only ever caught brief whiffs of before this. You felt guilty, leaving all the pleasing to him, especially since he'd been so kind to your hesitations. "I'm sorry. I'm not doing much, am I?"
"Is sorry your favourite word, love?" He asked, his warm hand caressing your cheek. "You deserve someone doing something to please you for once. Besides, your little sounds are doing enough for me as it is."
You pushed a hand to his face, covering the grin that turned you a deep plum shade. He chuckled and kissed your palm. "And what of you, Sebastian?" The kisses began to lead up your arm but you stopped him. "Sebastian."
"Your selflessness never retires, does it?"
You ignored him, propping yourself up to loosen his tie in a simple show that now, it was his turn. You did so smoothly and so gently that it made Sebastian's jaw tighten. You tossed it to the pile where your vest lay, then moved to his robes, sliding them off him. His expression seemed hard, annoyed almost but you continued. He took your wrist only when your fingers edged to undo his third button.
"Don't do this for me." He muttered, clearly thousands of thoughts buffering his mind, but that horrid guilt resurfaced on his face.
"For you?" You somewhat gaped. He must truly think of you as a saint (a push-over, but a saint) to believe you so innocent in your motives. "Not for you. With you, Sebastian." The words were enough to ease his hold on your wrist, so you continued.
Just as Sebastian, you had little to no experience on any sexual matters. You were hardly familiar with your own body, let alone a male's. So ever the improviser, you lifted yourself over him and sat gently, feeling the poke of his arousal against you. You shivered, and had to look away from him for a brief moment.
His hands snapped to your hips, and he looked at you with some kind of warning in his eyes. Tread carefully. The look said.
With Sebastian below you, you finally got a clean look at him; red lips, flushed face, rustled hair. You'd never seen him in such a state. It allowed you to understand why he enjoyed watching you whilst touching your most sensitive area.
With your hands on his chest for balance, you gently swayed your hips against him. His fingers curled around you, his knuckles blanching, and he let out a grunted curse that melted your insides to molten.
Again you moved against him, finding your own pleasure in the movement, prompting you to do it again. Sebastian was unravelling beneath you, eyes creased shut with his head thrown back and mouth letting out choked moans.
You began to notice Sebastian's hips joining you, rolling up with a feverish need. You dipped down to him, deciding the space was too much. His arms envelop you in a strong hug, tightening when you began to leave kisses across his skin.
“Does it feel good?” You asked insecurely whilst already knowing the answer.
“Hng— yes.” He nodded desperately.
The following exchange between you two was nothing more than writhing bodies, quiet moans and shallow breaths.
At some point, appearing fed up with your pace and control, Sebastian had shifted you off him and to his side, where he then mounted you. Finding his rightful place between your legs and returning his core to yours, grinding against you in a manor that reminded you what was to come once the layers between you were gone.
It made your insides plea for him, his hand. Anything.
So you took his face, and guided it back to your lips. It was messier now, not fast or rough, just messy as his mind strayed between his deep rolls against you and the way your tongue met his bottom lip.
But he stoped, retracting his hips but not yet his mouth. You broke from him first.
"Sebastian." His name was a plea, a whine against loosing the sensation of him finding friction against you.
"If we continue like this, I... I won't last. You should find your release before it's over."
You wondered how Sebastian might've known you were even capable of climax, then consider what other kinds of books were available in the restricted section of the library he might've come across. The thought didn't linger in your mind for too long, because he had sat up and had begun removing your stockings.
"Sebastian..."
The familiar sound of your nervous unease halted him.
"Just don't stare." You asked, looking away from the sight of him undressing you.
"Of course." It was a shotty promise, but you allowed him to take off your puffy drawers and settle over you again. He kissed your lips briefly, then your cheek, jaw, neck, collarbone and the plush of your breast that peaked from your halfway unbuttoned blouse.
You gazed up at the ceiling you'd designed two years ago, finding comfort in its familiarity. You wondered briefly that if you had told your younger self that Sebastian Sallow would one day see you half undressed, flushed with lust and be kissing his way down your ribs, abdomen and stomach until he reached your sex, what she might say. You had some faint idea, younger you would've responded with "Sounds about right."
The kiss he pressed against your knee was unhurried and deliberate, even more-so was the one he pressed to your inner thigh. When his mouth finally found you it drew a sharp intake of breath from your chest, suspended in the heavy quiet of the room.
Your hands, awkward and alone, grabbed at your skirt and shirt, clenching the fabric until your knuckles went white. One of them instinctually reached for his hair when his hot, wet tongue slowly swiped you for the first time. Another gasp joined the symphony of echoed silence, aside for the occasional rustle of clothes.
His tongue explored you carefully and too light but with each vocal exhale or quick tug at his hair the experimental licks became sure as he uncovered what made you react the most.
You could feel a simple quake in his hands as they held your thighs open and your trembling body steady. You reached to the fingers that created craters in your flesh, brushing across them in a plea for him to hold your hand. And he did.
You had never imaged it could feel like it did, so warm, so encompassing, so vulnerable yet so rewarding. It was all utterly overwhelming. You couldn't think of anything else other than the sensations. His wet tongue sliding across your nerves, the softness of his chestnut brown hair, the puffs of his hot exhales against your skin and the loving hold of his hand.
The builds of pleasure had begun to undeniably form, and the incoming reality that Sebastian would made you climax quickly sent a storm of butterflies within your stomach.
"I think I'm close." You uttered.
Sebastian's eyes fluttered at your heavenly admission, but he didn't allow the swirling of pride in his chest to sway him from your pleasure. His tongue and mouth moved with such deliberate care, that you whimpered to consider how much he must've loved you, to want care for you this way. No, Sebastian was not a fast lover by any means.
The building peaked, until it snapped and you unravelled. Sebastian had known it by the shiver that ripped through your body and the way your fingers tightened almost painfully around his hair. All that, and the moan you let out was the loudest you'd made yet.
You felt the warm cavern of his mouth seperate from you however you were well past the point of reaction as you sobbed and gasped for oxygen to feed your rapturing heart.
Sebastian's eye's glazed over your now glistening skin "You finished." He stated, almost asking in such bewilderment. You didn't reply, still catching your breath. He picked you up from your weak lay on the sofa and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly.
You wondered when he kissed you, if that sweet tang on his tongue was the taste of you.
The intimacy lingered, guiding you into a heat you didn't expect so soon after your peak. Your hand reached the rim of his trousers, index finger curling around his belt and ever so lightly tugging at it.
Sebastian seemed to hesitate, separating from your lips and gazing at you. “We can stop here. There's no rush—” he began, his voice low and warning, but you silenced him with a soft shake of your head.
“I don't want to stop,” you whispered, the words shaky but certain. The way his breath caught at your words sent warmth bloating your chest.
His hug around you faded as he fumbled with the button of his trousers, his hands trembling slightly as his usual confidence slipped for a vulnerable kind of focus.
Your gaze rose at the ceiling instinctively, to avoid an image so lewd your heart might explode.
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours again. The kiss was softer now, as if trying to calm both of your nerves. “It’s just me. You don’t have to be nervous.”
“I’m not,” you lied, the tight weakness in your throat betraying you.
Sebastian smiled, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “I think you are,” he countered, “but that’s alright. This is... I’m nervous too.”
“You don’t seem it,” you admitted, and he let out a breathy laugh.
“I’m good at pretending,” he confessed, his tone light but honest. He kissed you again, slower this time, and the warmth of his lips helped steady you.
As he positioned himself, his movements slowed, almost hesitant. His brow furrowed slightly as though searching for the right way to proceed. “If it hurts, or if you want me to stop, you’ll tell me?”
You nodded.
When he began to push forward, he braced himself with a groan you only recognised Sebastian let out when he'd been in pain, though this was something else entirely. The exhale that followed seemed to have winded him. It was as though sliding into you was like sliding into some exquisite oil.
Despite what you might've expected, no pain flooded your body. There was an uneasy pressure, but no incredible discomfort. As his size slid across your nerves you couldn't help the sharp intake of air through your teeth
Sebastian froze immediately. "Too much?" He asked.
"No," you managed, although sounding as if you were holding back a sob, "It's just.. new." His shoulders sagged with relief.
You shifted beneath him, angling your hips instinctively, and the change made him groan, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Gods, you feel… perfect,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.
He halted a slow jut into you, experimenting with each gentle motion, balancing his desire with your comfortability. That uneasy tightness had lifted almost completely as he massaged your insides, spreading a melting warmth that eased any tension in your mind.
His name fell from your lips and it shattered what composure he had left. "Does it feel better now?" Although the question sounded worried for you, Sebastian wanted more, to go further and harder and needed the permission from your pleasure.
"Yes," you gasp, "Its— ah— Sebastian it's so much better."
Now he had a newfound confidence and his movements grew surer but still achingly gentle.
It was all becoming smoother, more instinctive, and you found yourself matching him, your hips rising to meet his. He groaned at this. The sensation of him filling you, of your bodies moving in perfect sync, was intoxicating. You could feel his hands sliding up your sides, his touch gentle yet tight as he held you close.
The feel of him gliding inside you, slowly and shallowly pleasing you send spark dancing underneath your skin and another tension, similar to the one you felt with Sebastian's mouth around your sex, although not the same, began to build. “Sebastian,” you gasped, your voice laced with urgency. “I—”
“Just a little more,” he coaxed, remaining loyal to the kind rhythm of his thrusts. “I can feel it, too.”
You held yourself together for only a moment longer, unravelling too soon and too fast. This one was intense, flooding your body and contracting your muscles, even the ones that surrounded Sebastian. It had pushed him over the edge, too.
A warmth flooded you and the hands clutching his back became sharp nails digging into his shirt and skin. You didn't forget the way he moaned at the rake. Both of you shuddered, Sebastian at finding his release inside you and you feeling it merge with the aftershock of your own climax.
For a moment, there was only the sound of your breaths mingling in the stillness, the world outside forgotten. Sebastian lowered his forehead to yours and collapsed breathless at your side.
You could've drifted off into a deep slumber, you might've for a single moment, if Sebastian hadn't removed his blanket of warmth by lifting himself from the sofa. He took his robe off the pile of strewn bits of clothing, and draped it over you.
Through tiredly lidded eyes, you heard the rustle of clothing as he buttoned up the loose pieces hanging off him.
"Sebastian?" You weren't done basking in the aftercare yet.
"I'm going to brew the potion."
"Potion?"
"A... preventative."
You sat up. "Preventative?"
Although he'd been deep inside you just a moment ago, he attempted to avoid crudeness. "To, you know, stop you from being.. with child."
You weren't sure if you should laugh, or freak out, so an odd mix between the two emotions emitted from you. "Sebastian how do you know so much about all this?"
"Why? Did my skills exceeded your expectations that much?"
"Please, be serious," you begged.
"Well, you know how much I like to read." He seemed to shy from the confession. "After a while, one gets curious about certain things and... as for the potion, I found it in a book about married couples. Said it was 'to only be used to prevent further conception after having too many children' although I think we can bend the rules for this occasion."
"Children? Oh merlin, what have we done." The afterglow had faded too soon and you were left with the cries of a culture that told you sex before marriage was unacceptable. "I'm going to have to wear a black wedding dress..." You despaired.
Sebastian only laughed.
"Don't laugh! I'll have to lie to my future husband, and—"
"I'll be marrying you," he stated, as though you were slow for not already knowing this.
"What?"
"Love, don't think for a moment I'd let you share yourself with me like this and not marry you," any words you could've hoped to say were buried deep in your pit of a gut, "besides, I've always thought you looked quite pretty in black."
You weakly laughed, the other option being to cry from overwhelm of it all.
"I'll tell you a secret though—we're quite late to the party."
"What do you mean?"
"Weasley, Prewett and Plummly."
"You're joking." You gaped, "with who?"
"None of them will tell. Suppose they might be lying, though I'm sure I did spot Weasley snogging a Hufflepuff once. Might've been her."
"Huh." You supposed that if you had to have guessed, Garreth Weasley would've been the first name you called.
"Pretty sure word got out about it too, that's why he's been in detention for so long. The teachers can't prove it happened, but they can still punish him for it."
So that's why you hadn't seen Garreth as often anymore. With his aunt as a teacher, she'd surely be on his tail about anything scandalous. Then stress twanged your heart.
"What if someone finds out about us, about tonight?"
"They won't."
"What if they do?"
His mouth quirked into a half-smile, equal parts reassuring and mischievous. “We’d get scolded, thrown in detention, and likely forced to marry sooner than we’d like. Expulsion would be threatened, but I reckon most of the professors have enjoyed watching our so-called ‘budding romance.’ I’d wager they’d let it slide.”
"Professor Wesley would have you strung up by your ears for taking me to bed," you muttered, finding humour in the image, but also horror in the truth of it. "Oh Merlin she'd be so disappointed in me..."
"You're right," he muttered with an exaggerated sigh, "if it was Ominis who'd taken you, she'd be so much happier."
You couldn't help the laugh that left you, or how it quickly dissolved into a groan. "Sebastian please, I— what if this was a mistake?"
His amusement faded and he softened. "Think for one moment, with no one else's judgement, did it feel like a mistake?"
"No..."
“You think I’d do this with anyone else?” he continued, his voice softer now. “That I’d risk everything—us—for something fleeting?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sebastian let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Merlin, you really don’t give me enough credit, do you?”
“It’s not that,” you protested weakly.
“Then what is it?” he pressed, his gaze intent but not unkind.
"You're not just saying all this to make me feel better, are you? To make me think you want me?" The words felt stupid the moment they left your mouth.
Sebastian blinked, stunned into silence for a moment before a laugh—warm and disbelieving—escaped him. “You’re daft if you think I’d ever not want you. Have you met me?”
You swatted at his arm halfheartedly, your cheeks burning. “This is mortifying.”
“Mortifying?” He scoffed, pulling you closer. “The only thing mortifying about this is how much I love kissing you, everywhere. Truely, I won't be able to think about another thing."
"If we get married, I think I'll die of a heart attack."
❀ And You Look Fetching in Yellow ❀ // Sebastian Sallow x f!MC
Summary: Hogwarts couples exchange scarves to signify their intention with each other. Unfortunately for Sebastian, MC is new to the whole magic thing.
It's been weeks since Sebastian had gifted her his scarf. And yet nothing romantic has happened between them.
How was she supposed to know that she had to give him something in return?
Part 1: You Look Better In Green
♪ Tags: Slight Dark!Sebastian, angst, sadness, manipulation, making out, heartbreak
Word Count: 5k
|| Masterlist || AO3 ||
"Did you see what the new girl was wearing?"
"Obviously, do I look like I live under a troll's bridge? The whole school is talking about it!"
Sebastian preened, sitting a bit straighter in his seat. He had been lounging on a bench with Ominis in the Dark Arts Tower, bored out of his mind. About ten paces away, a gaggle of 3rd year girls were giggling and loudly whispering amongst themselves. The student body of Hogwarts never had anything better to do then to guess who started courting who. Sebastian had never cared much about this (often incorrect) news, having always found it dull.
But it was looking like Hogwarts was just about to get bit more interesting.
"What was she wearing?" one of the shorter girls asked.
"She was wearing a Slytherin scarf!" another whispered conspiratiously as if it was an unspeakable secret.
There were gasps around the group. The new Hufflepuff student? Wearing Slytherin's green and silver scarf? It could only mean one thing.
"Ohhhh, she's seeing from someone from Slytherin." There was much fervent whispering.
"I bet so many hearts are crushed now. Someone finally got to her first."
Sebastian couldn't' help but puff out his chest. Finally, in his time as a 6th year at Hogwarts, the natural order of things were being corrected. No longer did he have to worry seeing his Hufflepuff in ugly red and yellow.
"Who do you reckon gave it to her?" one of the Ravenclaws bounced on the tip of her toes.
"Well, there's not that many Slytherin boys that she associates herself with."
Sebastian grinned. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his hands behind his head. He was constantly next to her side whether that meant on the battlefield or at the library. His devotion to her had most definitely discouraged any potential suitors who thought they were worthy of wasting her time. An effortless arm thrown around her shoulder. His coarse hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. His chin resting on her much shorter head. Now that the whole school knew that the most amazing girl in all of Hogwarts history was his, Sebastian's worries could finally-
"I heard from someone in Charms that it's Ominis."
Sebastian stilled. What?
There were squeals of delight.
"Of course! That makes so much sense! They look so cute together!"
Sebastian scowled. No they didn't.
"Awww, I'm so happy for them. I bet he swept her off her feet!"
"It's the eyes isn't it? All the Gaunt kids have those gorgeous eyes."
In Sebastian's personal opinion, blue eyes were incredibly overrated.
"That makes so much sense! They're always in the library studying together."
One of their voices took a cheekily tone. "Studying? Is that what the kids are calling it now a days?"
Yes, Ominis and his Hufflepuff were always studying together, only because Sebastian invited both of his best friends to his study session.
The group of girls all squealed bouncing up and down like a group of Puffskeins. They were loud and annoying enough that Professor Hecat had opened the doors to her classroom. With heavy scolding, the professor shooed them outside, to spread their gossip elsewhere in the castle no doubt.
Sebastian felt as though he took a troll club to the head. That was his green scarf around his Hufflepuff. It was Sebastian's scarf that she was wearing every day. Not Garret's. Not Natty's. Not even Ominis's. It was Sebastian's. Turning to stare at his best friend, he was startled to find that Ominis was still engrossed in his book. The other boy looked completely at ease, as if Sebastian's entire life hadn't been entirely upended.
"What," Sebastian spat through gritted teeth, "in Merlin's name, was that all about?"
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The hero of Hogwarts laid on her back like a starfish on the grounds of the Transfiguration courtyard. Having successfully commandeered a quiet corner of the courtyard with Natty and Poppy, she tried her best to relax between classes. Poppy was playing with Gerald. Natty attempted hastily to finish her astronomy homework before the next toll of the bell. The ancient magic user scowled at the bright blue cloudless sky as if it personally had cursed her.
She was still wearing Sebastian's scarf. The new Hufflepuff hadn't taken it off since Sebastian had kindly (or possessively?) wrapped it around her. His signature bergamot and oak scent was starting to fade.
She had learned quite quickly the ins and outs of courting at Hogwarts thanks to her friends. Coming from the muggle world, it was dizzyingly confusing all the fake rules that witches and wizards put upon themselves. She wasn't sure if it was wizard conservatism or teenage boredom that forced the students of Hogwarts to play these stupid courting games.
Wearing another House's colors was a walking advertisement to the rest of Hogwarts that you were officially being pursued by classmate of another House. The second that a Gryffindor was caught wearing green and silver or a Ravenclaw was caught wearing red the whole school would erupt in commotion and gossip.
In her opinion, the student body of Hogwarts needed to go outside more. Experience some of the real world for once.
After all it was their coy games that put her in this whole mess. She thought, as any rational being would, that after a whole year's worth of 'dates', alone, unsupervised, not under the watch of any adult, that something more would come of her relationship with Sebastian. She had hoped by now she would be wrapped in his strong arms with his green scarf wrapped around the both of them, joining them together.
She had thought wrong. Instead, it was the still the same Sebastian. Teasing tone, seductive one-liners, coy looks when he thought she wasn't watching. He always held her at an arm's length, never getting too close. Despite all of his flirty comments, he never made a verbal hint that they were anything more than friends.
Ugh, this was all so maddening. If she had it her way, she would march right up to Sebastian, grab him by the beautiful luscious curls of his, and kiss him silly until he finally got the message through that thick skull of his.
"Why isn't my brilliant plan working?" She whined as she laid beneath the sky, as if hoping it would give her the answers.
"What plan?" Natty asked, not looking up from her astronomy homework. "Your mind has been up in the clouds all day."
She groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes to block out the sun. "Why hasn't Sebastian made a pass at me yet. For Merlin's sake, we went to Three Broomsticks and Sirona gave us her Valentine's Day Special. We shared it, together. Using one spoon, like a couple."
"Have you considered that Sebastian might think you two are actually exclusive?" Poppy interjected. "I mean, you're wearing his scarf. That has to count for something."
The new student groaned. She started ripping the grass next to her in frustration. "I don't think we're dating. At least, I don't think Sebastian Sallow is the type to not snog his girlfriend silly when she drops obvious hints."
Poppy made a show of gagging at the thought of her friends making out. In retaliation, the other Hufflepuff half-hearted threw some of the plucked grass in Poppy's general direction. The strands lamely flew everywhere but their intended target.
Natty sighed, brushing the grassy debris from her astronomy chart. "Honestly, Europe is so behind. Back at home, things were much simpler. Girls do not have to wait for the man to ask them to be in a relationship! Anyone could do the asking! All of this exchanging of clothes is so silly to me. What if two people from the same House start dating? Then what? This makes no sense to me."
Poppy hummed in agreement. "Dating at Hogwarts does seem like such a headache compared to Uganda, Natty. But," she squeezed Gerald tightly, "you can't deny how cute it is when you see the couples together wearing each other clothing. They're so mismatched and adorable." Poppy paused awkwardly. "Come to think of it, I've never seen Sebastian wearing even a hint of yellow."
The air stilled. Both Poppy and Natty turned to stare at their friend who was still in the process of pulling out all of the blades of grass in her vicinity. It was a long awkward moment before the hero of Hogwarts realized that her two good friends were looking at her, expecting a reaction out of the wallowing girl.
"What?" She asked.
Poppy gave her a pitying look. "You…you did give Sebastian your scarf right?"
The new student blinked owlishly, her hands stilled in their destructive action.
Natty sighed. "A hat? Your tie? Cufflinks? Merlin's beard, even your socks would do. Anything?"
For being a wielder of ancient magic, she sure didn't have a clue as to wizarding culture. "Um, no? Was I supposed to?"
Both girls groaned. Natty shook her head, disappointed in the lack of charisma her friend had. Poppy looked at her pitifully as if she was the runt of a Niffler litter.
"What? We're supposed to trade scarves? Who made up that rule? Is that why Sebastian hasn't made a move on me?"
"YES!" The other girls replied, getting fed up with the drama.
"No one told me about this!"
The three girls bickered back and forth, homework now entirely forgotten. So lost in debate, they missed the Slytherin that was approaching them.
Imelda Reyes, captain of the Slytherin team, stood in front of them, interrupting the trio of girls. "Oh good, the losers are all gathered together." She looked rather bored as if she would rather be on the field than here.
Poppy frowned. Gerald stuck his tongue out at the offending girl. "Imelda, why do you keep calling your only friends at Hogwarts losers?"
Imelda ignored the remark, flipped her hair behind her shoulders. "It keeps the fans in line. Got to remind you lot of your place."
The Slytherin girl turned her sights onto the other Hufflepuff who was still wallowing in the grass in self-pity. "Anyway, I came to collect on my good deed. Some token of appreciation would be nice. Even a thanks would do."
The Hufflepuff sighed. She pinched her nose in frustration at the annoyance that was Imelda Reyes. Rolling over to her side, she faced the Slytherin captain. She propped up her chin on her hand. Nothing that Imelda ever have to share was interesting. "Imelda, what is it now? Why should I be groveling at your feet for this time?"
"You should be thanking me for saving your relationship with Sallow." Imelda nonchalantly stated.
The new girl spluttered, her chin slipping off of her hand and hitting the ground. She made a pained noise, rubbing at the growing bruise. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Imelda inspected her glossy green nails. "It's painful to see you two fumbling about like Quidditch little league toddlers. I just gave a gentle nudge in the right direction."
The bottom of her stomach was in free-fall. Imelda "helping" was never a good thing, despite what the Slytherin believed. "Imelda, what did you do?"
Imelda grinned. "Oh, you know, just started a rumor that Ominis was the one who gave you the scarf."
She finally sat up. Bits of grass stick to the Hufflepuff's hair. "Why on earth would you do that, Imelda? The whole school is going to think that Ominis is courting me!"
"Indeed."
Natty frowned. "I have to admit. I do not see the game you are trying to play. How does that help our friend?"
Imelda rolled her eyes. It was sometimes frustrating being the only Slytherin of their girl group. They were so slow to stack the odds to get what they wanted. They were so narrow-minded as they achieved their goals, seeing only a couple paths towards victory instead of the millions of possibilities Imelda always saw.
"Boys like Sallow are easy to manipulate. Start a rumor that his best friend is seeing the love of his life, and the boy will make sure to do everything in his power to correct the record." Imelda flicked off a speck of dirt on her otherwise well-polished nails. "He'll come crawling back to you in a week tops."
Poppy oo'ed in approval, clapping excitedly at the new development. Natty shot her a judging look. Poppy dropped her "oo's" to a respectful volume.
The other Hufflepuff gaped in silence, at a loss for words. "Sebastian's one of the smartest people I know. He can pick up even the most difficult spells on the first try." She crossed her arms. "He's too smart to fall for your tricks, Imelda."
Her compatriots were silent. Natty, Poppy, and Imelda ginned and looked at each other deviously. Poppy was the first to bust out in laughter, causing the other two to join in. The offended girl scowled behind her green scarf, annoyed.
The Hufflepuff rolled her eyes. "You all think so low of him. I'm telling you, Sebastian's not the type to care about this sort of petty thing. You'll see."
"Oh, we'll see alright." Imelda sneered. "I bet my best broomstick that your Slytherin will come crawling back to you on his knees. Why I bet he's foaming at the mouth right now."
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Sebastian was practically foaming at the mouth. He wanted to scream and pull his hair out. Back in the sanctuary of his dorm room, he could finally take off the mask of indifference he'd been wearing all day. Ever since he eavesdropped on the rumors surrounding the new student, they have followed him incessantly, mocking him. It seems like all the students, all the professors, even the godforsaken portraits were talking about the 'newest couple in Hogwarts'. How on earth that anyone could see her and Ominis actually together was beyond him.
Speaking of Ominis, Sebastian glanced over at his friend who was sitting comfortably in his own bed, reading a book in braille. Ominis looked serene as if he was above the petty comments of the commoners of Hogwarts.
Suspiciously aloof in Sebastian's opinion.
"How are you not bothered by all of this?" Sebastian asked. He squinted his eyes, trying to see if he could catch Ominis in the act of trickery.
Ominis sighed, marking his place in his book before closing it with an air of finality. He had foolishly hoped that the silly rumors going around Hogwarts wouldn't upset his best friend too much. The students of Hogwarts were constantly talking Sebastian after all. Gossiping about his charm around the female students, about his duels, about him getting detention for the second time that week. Sebastian was never bothered by gossip, seeming revealing in it.
This rumor was different, it would seem.
"I'm not sure what you're on about." Ominis tried.
Sebastian could smell something was up. "Don't you play dumb with me. You know exactly what I'm referring to. The whole school thinks our new friend is seeing you. Now, I believe that the heresy isn't true." Sebastian's voice threatened to crack. "Is there any reason to believe otherwise?"
The accused boy huffed, rolling his eyes. "Merlin, Sebastian, you really live up to the infamous Slytherin jealousy."
"Don't you avoid the subject." Sebastian said.
Ominis frowned, confused. "Why don't you just correct the rumors? Haven't you been courting her the whole time?"
Sebastian scowled, turning away from his friend, hiding the disappointment on his face. He'd thought that everything was going so well. Her secretive smiles and stolen glances whenever she thought Sebastian wasn't looking her way. The way she stared openly and unapologetically mid-duel as his muscles strained under the force of his spells.
"No, we're just friends, Ominis." Sebastian responded stiffly. "That's all there is too it."
Sebastian had thought that she returned his affections, especially when she accepted his scarf, a calling card of his intentions to woo her. He thought things were going even better when she invited him to an date to Three Broomsticks, reminiscing about their first of many troll attacks. Sebastian thought the date had gone perfectly when he walked her like a gentleman to her dorm.
It wasn't until she bid him a cordial, kind but only friendly, goodbye that he had realized how wrong he was. She had not returned to give Sebastian her own yellow and black scarf, a token of her acceptance towards the courting. And Sebastian had stood in front of the wine casket that hid the Hufflepuff common room, scarfless, lamenting in what an absolute fool he had been.
Ominis's frown deepened. "Enough of this nonsense, Sebastian. She's interested in you. I mean, half of the female population is. I can hear the way you two talk to each other."
Sebastian chuckled darkly. "If that were true, I'd be wearing a yellow scarf."
It had stung. The blatant, but very gentle rejection that she had given him. Sebastian wasn't raised to be a troll to woman, and Anne had taught him to be better than his peers, so he allowed himself a few days to wallow before swallowing his pride. It was privilege enough that she would be friends with him after all that had happened in their 5th year.
He was an idiot for thinking that someone as amazing as her would want to be with someone who's done so much bad as him.
Ominis shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sebastian, but I am convinced that something is afoot between the two of you. As both your friend and her friend, I can say without a shadow of doubt that the feelings are mutual. I think the time for games is finished. You must confess your feelings towards her."
Sebastian scoffed at the ridiculous notion. It's like Ominis wasn't even listening to him. Sebastian had literally just finished explaining how not interested she was in him.
"Gyffindors don't have a monopoly on courage, Sebastian." Ominis chided. "We Slytherins are brave enough to get what we want. We always have been."
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. He could feel the venom on his tongue. "Oh? How's courting my sister working for you?"
Sebastian wasn't sure what reaction he was expecting from Ominis. What Sebastian was for sure not expecting was for a blush to creep its way up Ominis's neck. His best friend sat ramrod straight, as still as a statute. Ominis was incapable of schooling his expression and looked like a child who was caught in a lie.
Sebastian's mouth dropped at Ominis's shift in demeanor. While he had some suspicions over the nature of Ominis's outings beyond Hogwarts grounds, it was a different matter entirely to have confirmation that Ominis was attempting to woo his twin sister.
The two boys were quiet, frozen in place. The air in the dorms was stifling and awkward.
Ominis cleared his dry throat, very comfortable with pretending that he was also selectively deaf. "Well, anyways, it is my humble opinion that our friend is head over heels for you. All you need to do is ask."
Sebastian threw up his arms. He was going to get nowhere with this infuriating boy. Giving up, he collapsed, face first, on his bed, defeated.
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The Hufflepuff sighed, chewing on the end of her quill. Sitting on one of the dusty decrepit armchairs of the Undercroft, she relished in these moments of silence. No one, student, professor, or villager, was asking anything of her. Instead, she could simply be alone with her thoughts.
Unfortunately, her thoughts often revolved around Sebastian.
She rested her head against her fist and blew a raspberry in frustration. The parchment before her was riddled with crossed out phrases and giant bleeding blotches of ink where her quill had paused. She had spent the whole afternoon trying to come up with…something to say to Sebastian. Four hours of work only to come up with nothing. Ugh. Why did words have to be so hard?
Maybe everyone was right. It would be much easier just to throw him a Hufflepuff jumper and call it a day.
Before she could finalize her thoughts, the iron gates of the Undercroft swung open. She hastily stuffed the quill and parchment into a random pocket in her bags. She couldn't help but fix her hair, just in case it was Sebastian.
In walked the very man who had been on her mind all day. And Sebastian Sallow looked rather miffed. Hands already clenched in frustrations, he walked up to her. His eyes trailed up and down her form.
"What are you wearing?" he asked without preamble.
There was a sense of deja vu at the question. "My school uniform? Because…I go here? I'm a Hogwarts student?"
Sebastian frowned. "Where's your scarf?"
She huffed. Really? Out of millions of important things they had to talk about: Sebastian's behavior, Anne, their maybe date, their questionable relationship status. Her scarf was the thing he chose to fixate on? "It's warm outside, Sebastian. Why on earth would I be wearing a scarf in the spring?"
He scowled, now pacing unable to contain his anxiety. So she decided not to wear his scarf anymore. What did this mean? This only proved Sebastian's theory that she did reject his affections. Ominis's words of encouragement last night only worsened Sebastian's current mood. Ominis had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe after all this time, she finally learned the symbolism behind the gifted scarf and was appalled at Sebastian's rather forward claim on her. Maybe the rumors were to be believed, and she was interested in Ominis. Maybe her and Ominis "studying at the library together" actually had no studying whatsoever. Maybe-
His thoughts got interrupted when something rather soft smacked him square in the face. Whatever the scratchy material was had hit in right in his open eyes. His eyes watered, stinging at the insult.
"What in Merlin's beard?" He ripped the offending fabric off his face.
In his hands was a warm, yellow and black striped Hufflepuff scarf. The one that she had worn throughout the fall. The one that always managed to hide her teasing smiles and blushes. It smelled of their shared apple tarts and a bit singed at the edges as if one of her Confringo spells exploded a bit too close for comfort.
It smelled like her.
He looked up to catch her gaze. She was leaning with all her weight on one foot with her arms crossed, slightly annoyed at the silly affair.
Sebastian recovered quickly. He couldn't stop the grin from his face. He felt like he was back to his old self, just like how he was when the two of them first met. "Well, well, I was waiting for you to pay me back eventually. Nice to know that Hufflepuffs have some manners."
She huffed, tired of these games and double-speak. "You know, if you don't want it, you can always give it back."
"Now hold on," Sebastian cut her off, already wrapping it possessively around his neck in intricate woven pattern so tight so she couldn't even separate it from him if he tried. "I never said I didn't appreciate the gift."
She rolled her eyes. Walking up to him, she picked at the scarf on instinct, fluffing it in a more comfortable manner for him. "This is frankly so dumb."
He hummed in delight at his Hufflepuff fussing over him. With her so close to him now, he felt like a purring Kneazle. "Well, as dumb as you think it is, I think I look rather fetching in yellow. Don't you think so, sweetheart?"
She choked on her spit, hands frozen on her scarf. She missed the safety of the green and silver scarf that allowed her to hide her expressions from the world around her. With a scarlet face, she muttered. "Sebastian Sallow, you know I find you attractive."
Sebastian smirked, preening under her words.
Whatever speech she had drafted now forgotten in favor of venting her frustrations out onto him. "You should also know that you drive me absolutely bonkers. I just can't believe we had to go through this whole song and dance. Merlin, I've been drunk on the Amortentia that is you, Sebastian Sallow, for a whole two years now." Her hands tighten the grip that she had on hers (now Sebastian's?) yellow scarf. "I've been in love with you ever since you first took me to Hogsmeade. Merlin's beard, Sebastian, I've taken you as my companion to every poacher duel I can think of. We explore the most dangerous dungeons together. We fight off foul Acromantulas together. And it takes a silly yellow scarf for you to finally realize my feelings for you?"
She finally looked up at him, her fierce eyes finding his. What she wasn't expecting was a rare moment of vulnerability on Sebastian's face. The confident charming boy before her looked uncertain all of a sudden.
His rough hands reached up to gently meet hers, holding her in place. "Why would someone as good as you want someone who's done so much evil like me?"
And therein laid the truth of Sebastian's fears. If the savior of Hogwarts was too good for people as dull and drab as Garreth or Prewett, then in what world would she want to be with someone who had so much blood on his hands as Sebastian? No, she deserved the best. And it certainly wasn't someone like him.
She was flabbergasted. She was so used to the Sebastian Sallow she first met. The boy whose Slytherin ambitions urged him to greedily take what was rightfully his. Where was the young brash and carefree optimistic boy whose boldness and forwardness had charmed her?
She gently removed her hands from his. His expression was caged off from her. Gently, she reached up to caress his face, angling his chin slightly downwards so he could look at her in the eye. He turned to her, like a wilting flower dying for the sun. The walls around him melted as his knitted brow soften to look at her.
"Sebastian, you are rash and reckless. You are possessive and incredibly jealous, even though you have no reason to be." The other boy looked away, trying to pull away from her. She held his chin in place forcing him to look at her. He looked gorgeous in yellow.
"You're also the most devoted person I know, devoted to Ominis, to Anne, to me. You fight so fiercely to protect what is yours both on the battlefield and off of it. Everything you have done, both the good and the awful, has been because of your love. Everything that you are, your recklessness, your kindness, has been because of your love, your devotion to those that you care for. How could I not fall in love with you?"
The bright joyous colors brought a sunny aura to his usual darkened expressions. The Hufflepuff scarf around his neck made him look lighter, more open to the possibilities around him. The hues of yellow reflected the golden flecks that were hidden in his brown eyes.
He scoffed, trying not to think too hard at her words, not willing to break into a million pieces in front of her. "You are so brilliant, sweetheart, you could have anyone you wanted in the world. I'm just a boy from some hamlet who couldn't even save his sister."
Her shoulders softened. Oh, Sebastian. "That's not true. I am here with you, Sebastian. I am choosing to be here with you. I will always choose to be here with you, in this moment."
He could see her eyes dip down to look at his lips. And with that, it was like the weak dam to his flood of emotions was broken. He surged forward catching her lips in his. His hands flew up to cup both sides of her face, marveling at the beauty he was holding. She responded in turn, throwing her hands around his neck. She met the storm that was Sebastian with equal ferocity. Her lips pressed forward, almost bruising him with the passionate intention behind it.
He could feel the curl of her smile against his. Her long eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as if they were kissing the freckles that they found there. She smelled of their shared apple tarts, and her lips were warm against his. In her arms, he felt safe, like the world was created just for the two of them.
Lungs dying, he could barely stand ripping himself away from her. He rested his forehead against hers, not wanting to let go of this moment even for a second. His thumb was still caressing her cupped face, marveling at the miracle that was the savior of Hogwarts.
"You should know, you are never getting your scarf back." Sebastian quipped.
She let out a breath of laughter. Sebastian eagerly chased it with another quick kiss. Later, much, much later, after he was finished kissing his darling silly, he'll walk out the Undercroft with a yellow scarf around his neck holding hands with his Hufflepuff wearing that green scarf of hers.
Why must it be me? @iamconstantlyinpain - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
