But every once in a while a fic grabs me by the throat and refuses to let go.
Anyway, here's seven chapters about love across time.
Yours, always (Rating: T)
Premise:
The Room of Requirement is supposed to give you what you need.
In September 1895, it gave Josephine Hale a notebook.
And a boy named Sebastian Sallow, writing from January 1891.
This fic was inspired by Il Mare (The Lake House if you're more familiar with the remake). I originally had a one-shot about anonymous note exchanges in the Room of Requirement, watched the movie, reopened the draft, and immediately made things more complicated for myself.
A small note: Josie is half-Korean as a homage to Il Mare. I'm not Korean and I don't have Korean heritage, though I did my best to research where I could. If something feels off, please feel free to let me know kindly.
Also, what started as a homage somehow became part of the fic's structural integrity, which is a very writer sentence but unfortunately true.
If you're a fellow enjoyer of red strings of fate, bootstrap paradoxes, impossible correspondence, and two people falling in love despite several years standing between them, this one's for you.
âsebastian, I canât believe you just did that!â
âhurry before Madam Snelling catches us!â
prank after prank, our laughter echoed through the streets of Hogsmeade, now but a hollow void of what used to be.
Fic Summary: Twelve years of friendship, and Sebastian Sallow has supported her through every stupid decision she's ever made. So when she panics about her cheating ex bringing a date to their friend's birthday trip in France, he agrees to the most reckless plan yet: pretending to be her boyfriend for the weekend. It should be simple. They've been best friends forever. They know how to sell it! Except the line between performance and reality has always been thinner than either of them wanted to admit, and a weekend in Arcachon might be exactly what it takes for everything to implode.
Tags: Best friends to lovers | Fake Dating | Slow Burn | Modern AU | Idiots in Love
Rating: E
Chapter 11: Midnight - Sunday
Word count: ~9,000
Excerpt:
"Why didn't you tell me about Stanford?"
She caught Sebastian right where the lawn surrendered to the beach, he'd been walking like he could outrun whatever she was planning to say. Tough luck for him, the moon was full and the villa was throwing light all the way down the slope, so she could see him clearly even with her eyes half on the ground, watching her own feet, trying not to trip over the hem she kept catching underfoot.
It was the worst time to have worn a floor-length dress.
When he finally stopped and wheeled around to face her, the glow from the house caught the stubborn tilt of his head. Hands buried in his pockets. Shoulders hunched. He had 'back off'Â written all over him.
But she'd always had a terrible track record of leaving him alone when he was actively trying to self-destruct.
"Why, Seb?"
He didn't say a word. She just fell into step beside him, her bare feet sinking into the cold, damp grit, her shoes abandoned somewhere back on the grass and already forgotten. To their left, the tide kept coming in, entirely indifferent to the mess they were making of themselves.
How did they even get here?
Not literally on this beach, with the water eating the sand under her feet. But the other hereâyears of mess tangled up that she'd never once been able to point at the beginning of it.
Itâs a common misconception that she and Sebastian solidified their friendship on the climbing wall. In reality, the foundation was poured in a drafty university laboratory, during those dead hours spent waiting on machines to finish their runs.
In their third year, they had been the default lab partners. It wasnât a formal arrangement so much as just being on the same wavelength. While other pairs bickered over who did the write-up just to escape early, they made the most out of these hours. They played card games, ordered late-night takeaway to the loading bay, watched stupid YouTube videos, and talked until they ran out of things to say.
Of all of them, the fatigue failure experiment was the one that lodged itself in the back of her mind.
It's basically a tedious and brutal test of structural integrity. You take a materialâusually steel, forged to carry immense weightâand subject it to microscopic stress. It's a load far below its yield strength, nowhere near enough to snap it on impact. But you cycle that minor force over and over at a single point of concentration, ten thousand times, waiting for the fatigue to set in and the first microscopic crack to propagate.
She could still picture Sebastian sitting on the edge of the lab bench, fingers rhythmically tapping, smelling of stale filter coffee and cold rain. Heâd been watching the digital counter on the hydraulic rig cycle endlessly, speaking with that sort of geeky zest that made material science sound like the most fascinating thing in the world.
The cracks are invisible, heâd enthused one evening. It looks completely fine right up until the second it isn't. But thatâs the best part, isn't it? You test it to absolute destruction, find the exact spot where it wants to give up, and then build it better. You make something you know won't break on you.
But thatâs the thing with invisible cracks. You can pretend all you want that they aren't there, hell maybe convince yourself that the structure is still in topshape.
And thenâpoof! The structure is suddenly destroyed.
Running barefoot down the dark slope toward the water, chasing his retreating silhouette, she could actually feel those years of microscopic fractures finally hitting the surface all at once.
"SEBASTIAN SALLOW!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.
"Does it even matter?!"
"Of course it does!" Her voice split on the last word, climbing the scale. "We planned the entire thing. I know I dropped out, I know I changed my mind, but I thought you wanted to go. I thoughtâ" She pressed both hands flat against her face, fingers digging into her temples. "I thought you got rejected."
"It was my acceptance," he pointed to his chest. "My choice to turn it down."
Without giving her a second to process, he spun on his heel and took off. She scrambled after him, instantly regretting her entire genetic makeup. It was offensive how much ground he could cover. Sebastian was basically all legs, eating up the beach in effortless strides while she had to do double duty just to keep his shadow in sight.
"Right, fine, but why couldn't you just tell me? Why keep it from me in the first place? Didn't I deserve to know?" She jogged and threw herself in front of him, planting her heels directly in the shallow surf and forcing him to either halt or plough straight through her chest. "StopâSebastian, please just stopâ"
"What do you want me to say?" He snarled.
"The truth would be a good staâ"
"Do you want the truth? Stanford is ancient history. Can we leave it now?" He threw the words back over his shoulder.
"No!" she screamed in frustration. He turned around, and the heat coming off him made no sense! Not when he was the one who'd been sitting on a secret that big. "I will not just leave itâ"
"Then we're going to be here for a while." Sebastian hooked his thumbs into his pockets and looked at anything but her.
Despite everything, she still knew the rules of Sebastian Sallowâespecially during arguments. Push him head-on, and he'd dig his heels in, throw up a brick wall, and deflect until you either gave up or gave in. If she kept hammering him about Stanford, he'd just shut down, repeat that it didn't matter, and keep marching down the beach until she literally ran out of air.
She needed a different angleâskip the sparring and go for the nerve.
"Do you love me?"
His head whipped toward her, clearly taken aback by her question.
"Are you in love with me, Seb?"
Nothing. The first wave hit her shins, freezing enough to send goosebumps straight up her arms, but she didnât budge.
Here we go.
"Because I am," the words tumbling out of her before she could lose her nerve. "I'm in love with you."
[continue on ao3]
this chapter wouldn't be as it is if not for @slytherizz. Gal, you get my characters almost as much as I do at this point. Thank YOU!!!! đ»
Fic Summary: Twelve years of friendship, and Sebastian Sallow has supported her through every stupid decision she's ever made. So when she panics about her cheating ex bringing a date to their friend's birthday trip in France, he agrees to the most reckless plan yet: pretending to be her boyfriend for the weekend. It should be simple. They've been best friends forever. They know how to sell it! Except the line between performance and reality has always been thinner than either of them wanted to admit, and a weekend in Arcachon might be exactly what it takes for everything to implode.
Tags: Best friends to lovers | Fake Dating | Slow Burn | Modern AU | Idiots in Love
Rating: E
Chapter 10: Saturday Evening & Night
Word count: ~10,000
Excerpt:
How do you tell when you actually know a person?
It's not about the easy shorthand you collect just by accidentally occupying the same square footage for years. Anyone can memorise the list of food someone is allergic to or concede the left side of the mattress without trying. For her, prediction was the ultimate factor for real understanding, and she'd have staked her life on it. For example, she could run Sebastian forward in her mind like a simulation, watching him execute a move three seconds before he actually did it. Give her a scenario, any scenario, and she could map his exact reaction, beat for beat.
Put him in a room with someone arrogant, and she could tell the precise moment he transitioned from charming to irritated. Hand him a crisis, and she knew whether heâd immediately tear into it or circle it for three days.
Theyâd been doing this dance since they were twenty. Like the night heâd turned up to a house party with a fake smile plastered on his face, trying to pretend his uncle hadnât just spent twenty minutes ripping into him over the phone. Sheâd spotted the furious line of his mouth, grabbed his sleeve, and dragged him out to the street. Heâd argued the entire way down the pavement, insisting he was completely fine, until she sat down on the damp kerb outside a late-night kebab shop and refused to move. Instead of pressing for answers, she just let the quiet stretch between them, knowing he was far too restless to leave a silence unfilled. It took less than five minutes for him to give up and start telling her things he'd never admitted out loud to anyone else.
Predicting him wasn't a skill anymore; it was an involuntary reflex. The sun rises in the east. Water is wet. Sebastian Sallow is entirely legible to her.
Which was why she felt so incredibly stupid right now...
Seb: "Each movement I make draws a breathless gasp meant only for your ears... so you always know exactly how good you're making me feel every single moment"
Just wanted to drop a WIP of my Seb x Mc pack. This is the second-to-last piece, so the pack launch is getting closer and closer!
Now that the common room series is finished, I've posted them all to my Ko-fi with high res downloads available! I'll link to each of the posts here. I would love to see more people try the "6 MCs challenge" and other art in these backgrounds!
Neutral hangout in the DADA Tower
Ravenclaw Common Room
Slytherin Common Room
Gryffindor Common Room
Hufflepuff Common Room
My backgrounds are available for others to use for non commercial art as long as I am credited and tagged. I do not consent to them being used with or for AI in any way.
I think my background art skills have improved a lot since the start of this series so really, if you think about it, Hufflepuffs are lucky that they lost the "which should I draw first" poll.
In the process of drawing this series, I came up with a whole lore around the house tea sets. There are brief descriptions about it on Ko-fi but there's a character limit so if you're interested, I'm going to do a separate post about the teacup lore, linked here
These are free to use but if you love my work and have the means, my Commissions and Etsy shop are open!
"... and most of all, I miss book shopping with you in Hogsmeade, your carefree smile permanently etched in my mind as I carried all your bags. I know you'll never forgive me for what happened with Uncle Solomon, but I hope that wherever you are, you're living your best life."
Summary: When Sebastian first broke her heart at Hogwarts, Y/N swore off becoming attached to anyone ever again. Now, years later, Sebastian is a professional Quidditch player and she's a renowned physician. When Sebastian breaks his wrist during a match, he turns to her for help. Though she's the one who can mend his broken body, he's determined to mend her heart.
A/N: Huge thank you to @barnabyjr, @placeartinside, and @cheywritesfanfics for their support and help with this story thus far. Be sure to check out their works! They are all insanely talented and I am so lucky to call them friends.
Themes: One-sided enemies to lovers; Fake Dating; eventual smut
Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and injuries
Two hours later you stood outside of the room they had moved Sebastian to, pacing. Upon arriving at the hospital, it had taken only 10 minutes for the medical team to prepare him for treatment. It had felt like an hour to you, each transfer seemingly taking twice as long as it usually did.
The first few doses of Wiggenweld didnât seem to have an effect on his pain. Normal bone mending charms seemed inadequate as well, much to your dismay. You had stood in the corner of the room, observing, your arms wrapped around your form in a futile attempt to keep you calm.
The injuries ran deep, deep enough that you, and your on-call colleague, Dr. Ridley, decided that the best course of action was for you to treat him. Given your emotional connection to Sebastian, which had just grown even more tenuous today alone, maybe it wasnât a wise decision to try and treat him yourself. He would heal with multiple doses of skele-grow, but the process would be excruciatingly painful. Both you and Dr. Ridley were unsure of what his ultimate outcome would be if you took that treatment route.
 So, you made an ethical call, and decided to do what you did best. You pulled yourself together in the locker room, stripping out of the clothes you had donned to the quidditch game, what should have been an enjoyable event. It felt like peeling off a costume and coming back into your true self, the rough feeling of scrubs familiar against your skin.
Before you knew it, you found yourself standing over Sebastian, eyes closed and wand raised. You pulled the fractured pieces together, arranging them in your mind like a puzzle. Each piece felt painstakingly tedious. Each groan from Sebastianâs lips felt like someone had reached into your chest cavity and squeezed. You tried not to focus on all the eyes on you. You couldnât blame others for being curious. Healthcare workers had a way of being curious about differing techniques, and yours was uniquely novel.
By the time you were finished, you were covered in sweat. It was only an hour later, but it felt like an eternity. Sebastian was stable and you practically ran from the room, leaving Dr. Ridley and the rest of the medical team to manage the clean up. You felt horrible for departing so quickly, but the weight of everything - taking responsibility for Sebastianâs outcome, the feeling of so many eyes on you, the stress of the entire day - had left you spiraling, your heart pounding in your chest.
You tried to focus on your breathing, your form eventually being overtaken by pacing. Subconsciously, it was like your body knew that pacing would help. It gave you a chance to work off the nervous energy and sore muscles that much exertion of magic left you with. If you could just keep moving, breathing, you knew you wouldnât collapse in on yourself.
After a couple of minutes, Dr. Ridley opened the door and stepped into the hall, closing it softly behind her. You turned to face her, the massive stone ceiling echoing despite Dr. Ridleyâs best attempt to avoid it. She studied you in the late afternoon light, before speaking. âHeâll be fine. Mostly thanks to you,â your colleague stated matter-of-factly.Â
You had met Dr. Ridley when you had both started your medical training together. For every measure that you were unsure, nervous, and slightly timid, she was confident, warm, and open. You knew that she would never tell you that things would be fine if they wouldnât be. So, you let out a breath that you werenât aware you were holding in, and tried to convince yourself that she was right.
âI, thank you. I couldnât have done this without you, Charlotte.â
âYouâre welcome⊠but you do realize Agatha is going to have questions on Monday, wonder why you ended up treating your boyfriend?â You nodded, doing your best to choose your words carefully through the haze of exhaustion.
âIâll talk to her. Iâm sure itâll be alright when I explain.â You werenât, but you werenât quite ready to think about that possibility yet. You had learned to take things one day at a time at Hogwarts. It had proved to be one of the only effective coping mechanisms you had found.
Dr. Ridley let out a soft sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. âEither way, Sebastian is stable for now. He will probably be asleep for a couple of hours, at least. You should go home and shower, get something to eat. Maybe even sleep a little.â
You simply nodded in response. You both knew that if you said you would, it would be a lie.
You had never been more thankful for how well stocked you kept your locker. After an achingly hot shower, one where you had let the water run down your face like a scene from a teenage drama for an embarrassingly long time, you got dressed. The feeling of fresh scrubs against your skin was welcome. It made you feel like you had a handle on what was happening, despite your mind vehemently disagreeing.Â
Usually you could calm your anxiety, a result of years of practice and dissociation. It was unlikely that you could have survived all your near-death experiences as a teen, your rampages across the highlands and through the forbidden forest, if you hadnât learned to calm your mind and set fear aside.
This time, something felt different. Despite the press of the wooden bench against your thighs, the low hum of the fan producing meager airflow in the room, you just couldnât ground yourself to this moment in time. âWhat if you had lost him?â You asked yourself the question over and over again, the images replaying like a slideshow in your mind: Sebastian being gravely injured, Sebastian crying out your name, Sebastian dying in your arms. The thumping of your heart kept rhythm, your mind jumping to a new possibility with each beat. Your grip on the bench was almost painful.
You had nearly lost him. He had taken a bludger for you and you had nearly lost him. His blood had nearly been on your hands again, the same way in which you blamed yourself for what happened in catacombs all those years ago. It would have been your fault; he had always trusted you to pull him back from the edge, and this time left your heart reeling. How did the saying go? âFool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on meâ? Sebastian had put his trust in you on the pitch, trusted you to make sure he survived. What if he hadnât?
You tried to remind yourself that circling on âwhat ifsâ would never be healthy. He was okay and you were simply exhausted. You just had to keep reminding yourself that everything had worked out, even if the whole situation just made you want to burst into tears.
You pushed yourself from the bench with both hands, closing your locker with a soft click. Your phone buzzed in your hands again, as it had been for the past few hours, but you ignored it, pocketing it in your fleece and making your way into the hallway.
The hospital showed little signs of life for Saturday evening, but you didnât mind. You didnât want to be around people right now, other than him. So you made your way back to his room, ensuring you didnât make eye contact with the few people you did pass. No one seemed to pay much attention to your demeanor. You supposed mostly keeping to yourself had its perks, namely people didnât notice when you were more withdrawn than usual.
When you did open the door to Sebastianâs room, the thin slit of light from the windows behind you poured in, resting on his face. He was asleep, thankfully. You werenât sure you had it in you to converse yet, to discuss what had happened, relive every gory detail. You pulled out your phone and turned on the flash light before fully stepping in and shutting the door behind you. Your footfalls were light, and you tried your best not to wake him as you made your way to examine the monitors he was hooked up to. His vitals were satisfactory for the state that he had been in earlier, you could at least be grateful for that fact.
You were careful not to shine the flashlight in his eyes as you set your phone screen down on the table and grabbed a chair, placing it at Sebastianâs bedside. The light from the flashlight filtered over the top half of the room, illuminating only part of the ceiling with dancing shadows. You eased yourself into the chair, hands on both the armrests as you sat, still feeling shaky. You knew the adrenaline was starting to fully wear off.
You werenât quite sure what you were doing as you reached for Sebastianâs hand, taking it in yours. The line between patient and significant other felt blurred, especially given you were currently alone in a hospital room. You still werenât quite sure how to behave when no one was watching, but for some reason, this felt right.
Sebastian began to stir and for a moment you were nervous that you had woken him. Instead, a grimace passed over his features and you paused, watching the pain paint itself over his freckled face. He let out a huff of discomfort, chestnut hair shifting on his forehead, and you found yourself reaching into the pocket of your jacket and drawing your wand.
At first you retraced the pattern of his wounds, wand hovering over his chest to ensure that you didnât miss anything. It took you a few minutes, but you came to the conclusion that your work had been satisfactory. You were about to repocket your wand when you suddenly stopped, a tug pulling your wand until it paused directly over his heart. You had never experienced anything like it. It was like you had hit a snag in magic, something resisting against your attempt to move. You figured it was simply a lapse in attention, a spot you had missed despite your best efforts. It had to be your ancient magic insisting on finishing the job. However, as your eyes fluttered closed to fix it, you startled. Typically, when fixing injuries with ancient magic, the issues highlighted themselves in a faint blue, similar to the pulses of magic you had searched for in the highlands during your teenage years. This magical trace was red, a crimson you thought hard to place. Perhaps it was just exhaustion, but you couldnât remember. Instead, some voice inside you urged you to pull.
Your wand moved before you had settled on a decision. Suddenly, the crimson red swirl shot towards you, with frightening speed. You heard Sebastian release a sigh of relief before you dropped your wand, the wood clattering on the floor as you simultaneously shot up from your chair.
The realization hit you like a tidal wave, the mixture of fear, acknowledgement, and success at a breakthrough overwhelming. The last time you had seen that red color came flooding back, head spinning as if you had just pulled it from the pensieve, all those years ago.
You had tried to remove Sebastianâs pain, and you had nearly succeeded.Â
An hour later, you were still sitting there, trying to process what had happened. You had always known that you could remove pain with the same spell that Isidora had, it simply came with the ancient magic abilities. That didnât mean that you had ever tried to use it, especially not on a living person. No, you had always promised yourself that you would never try to remove pain until you were sure that it wouldnât lead to more suffering. You had resigned yourself to pouring over books and running thought experiments in an attempt to figure out how to remove pain, but a part of you had always held the belief that you would never truly be able to. You had never, in your wildest dreams, believed that you would actually succeed.
Thankfully, Sebastian seemed fine. The pain had appeared to fall back into his form, retaking its abode in his chest. His painful breathing was, for once, a positive sign. The same couldnât be said for you. You didnât know what you should do. Part of you, the part that prided itself on being ethically sound, knew that you should tell him what happened as soon as he woke. He was your patient, and you had taken an extra step in his treatment, one that you couldnât be sure he would have consented to. He had a right to know.
Another part of you screamed that you shouldnât. If you did tell him, there was a possibility that he would never forgive you. He would never forgive you for having used the magic on him, after all the times you had refused to try it on Anne. If Sebastian knew that it was possible, that there was an actual possibility of a cure, you werenât sure he would ever let it be. He could fully slip into the dark prison he had been in at the end of 5th year, the bars of obsession and recklessness in pursuit of his cause clouding his vision. You told yourself you weren't even confident that you could succeed at a full extraction, that this had just been a small amount of pain, not a curse that had ravaged a body for over a decade. You couldnât tell him. It simply wasnât the right time.
Sebastianâs POV
Sebastianâs head was pounding as he cracked his eyes open, the darkness of the hospital room coming into focus. âY/N?â He asked the question softly, as if it was forbidden to wonder if you would be there. He shifted in the sheets slightly, the needle from the IV prodding him uncomfortably.
He let out a shuttering breath when he heard your response.Â
âIâm here.â He felt you take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. âYouâre going to be okay.â
Sebastian hadnât doubted that fact, not now, not when he was laying on the field, mist gathering at the corner of his eyes from the pain. He had always known you would be able to fix him, his trust in you as strong as when you were teens.Â
He sat up, taking a shaky breath as his hands pressed into the bed beneath him. You moved swiftly, adjusting his pillows to better support his back. He took the opportunity to look at your face then, really study you. You looked exhausted, worry etched into your face like a carving in stone. âI⊠thank you.â It was all he could really say, and it would never be enough to repay you for caring about him in a way he didnât feel like he deserved.
âYou donât have to thank me Sebastian, itâs just another day on the job.â You tried to pull a smile, try to make it clear that you said it in jest, but he knew that it was a lie.
âStill.â He sighed, eyes detaching from your face and instead moving around the room. âSo, I suppose I should ask how long you think I need to stay?â
You turned to the monitor, eyes grazing over the numbers that didnât make any sense to Sebastian. âWell, your vitals are stable. I can talk to Dr. Ridley, but I think she might want to keep you for observation overnight.â You checked your watch then, nodding to yourself. âShe should be stopping by in about twenty minutes.âÂ
Sebastian nodded again, thankful that it wouldnât be too long. He would never admit it outloud, but something about hospitals made his skin crawl slightly. Perhaps it was simply a symptom of having spent too long in them in childhood, watching his sister suffer in silence, but he had never felt at ease in them. He wasnât quite sure why you willingly spent so long inside of one. âI would like to try to go home, if at all possible.â
You sighed, running a hand through your already messy hair. âI mean, you can ask Sebastian⊠But Iâm not really sure sheâll say yes. Dr. Ridley has a tendency to play it on the safe side.â Sebastian let the argument die in his throat, part of him realizing that it wasnât you he needed to convince, but rather this Dr. Ridley character. You picked up your phone and began to read something, and Sebastian turned over the thought in his head, which was still quite hazy. He just needed an argument that this Dr. Ridley character would take.
Your POV
By the time that a knock sounded on the door, Sebastian had managed to sit upright, his legs swung over the side of the bed. You knew what he was trying to do, demonstrating that he was fine. You didnât try to tell him not to, deciding to just let it be.
âHi Charlotte.â You offered her a smile, hoping that in part you could soften her mood, making the impending argument a bit less vicious. Dr. Ridley didnât have the pleasure of knowing that arguing with Sebastian Sallow was futile. If Sebastian Sallow had one central trait, it would be his stubbornness. Thus, you sent a silent payer to Merlin that this would be over quickly. She nodded at you, before walking over in front of Sebastian, leaning down to examine him better.
âHow are you feeling, Mr. Sallow?â Charlotte asked, hand reaching out to palpate his chest, looking for any wincing. Sebastian, to his best ability, did not react.
âA bit sore, but I feel perfectly ready to go home.â Charlotte let out a sigh, steeling herself for an argument, just as you had expected.
âI should insist that you stay for at least a couple more hours, you certainly look better, but you need medical supervision-â
âDr. L/N can supervise me, at home.â Sebastian met your eyes then, his searching yours for an answer, just like earlier in the day. You werenât sure where he had come up with that idea, but you supposed it could be okay. âI assure you, Dr. Ridley, I will be fine,â Sebastian added, a tone of finality in his voice.
Dr. Ridley muttered something to herself about quidditch players and recklessness, before turning to you. âAre you comfortable with that?âÂ
You turned the idea over in your head, before choosing your words carefully. âIt should be fine. His injuries have healed and his vitals seem stable. Itâs really just pain management at this point, making sure the soft tissues heal well. Besides, you and I both know that Iâll bring him right back if his status worsens.â
Dr. Ridley nodded, studying your face for any sign of a lie. When she found none, she finally resigned to the fact that this was not a situation she could win. âAlright, Iâll sign off on you taking him home. Let me ask the nurse to get the discharge paperwork.â
An hour later, you struggled trying to unlock the door to his flat, while simultaneously supporting his weight. Sebastian was trying his best to mask it, but he was still clearly in pain. Although you still knew that it was best not to tell him what had happened, and that it was good that you hadnât completed the extraction, a small part of you felt guilty for not just finishing the job.
âIt's just a little longer, okay?â You mutter, trying to get alohamora to work. Eventually the magic took hold, and you were able to steer him inside, and onto the couch. Sebastian let out a groan as you lowered him down. You grabbed a couple of the stray pillows he'd had laying around, and stuffed them under his head and back. âIs that better?â You asked, still adjusting them.
âMuch. Thank you.â You nodded and stood, making your way to his kitchen to find a glass. While he couldnât have another full dose of Wiggenweld at this point, a smaller amount would help take the edge off the pain. You poured it carefully, then walked back to the couch, trying your best to not look worried.
âHere. This will take the edge off the pain, hopefully.â Sebastian swallowed it in one gulp, wincing at the taste. Soon enough though, he began to relax, looking significantly more comfortable.Â
âBetter?â You asked, sinking down on the couch next to him, taking care to make sure that your sides didn't touch.
âMuch. I⊠thank you, for everything.â A small smile crossed his face as he looked at you and you took it as a sign of improvement.
âI really should be the one thanking you. You took a bludger for me.â You couldnât help but let out a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. âYou⊠That was quite stupid of you.â
âI would do it again, in a heartbeat.â His smile grew, and suddenly he shifted, lifting his left arm. It clearly took some effort, but he managed to wrap it around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. The action caught you off guard, the idea how comfortable, domestic you felt was slightly overwhelming. You tried to ignore it.
âI didnât realize you were so chivalrous."
âAlways have been, especially for ladies whom I care about.â You resisted the urge to give him a playful shove.
âAh, so am I just one of your many damsels?â You retorted, and when Sebastianâs face suddenly grew more serious you stiffened, suddenly fearful that you had said something wrong. It was pretty obvious you had issues holding back today.
âNo. Only you.â You nodded slowly, as if trying to process the direction this conversation was drifting in. Sebastian broke the silence once again, adding, âand honestly, I like it that way.â
You werenât sure which one of you moved first, but suddenly you were closer, the space between you limiting with each breath. It was as if instinct was tugging you closer and you couldnât resist the pull. But when Sebastian suddenly pulled back, a painful yelp leaving his lips, you instantly snapped back to reality.
He was injured. He was injured and you were supposed to be taking care of him, making sure he healed properly. Instead, you had almost let your need, your greed for him get in the way of that duty. You decided it was best to just put some distance between you, moving to stand.Â
âIâŠSorry about that. You really should be laying down.â You moved towards your bag, hating the way that your voice had instantly changed to your physicianâs one, your words feeling more confident, less vulnerable. You could barely stand keeping the truth from him, but you just had to keep reminding him that it was for his own good.
âWill you stay?â He asked softly, as if he suddenly feared that not being the case, despite the plan established at the hospital earlier that evening. You had pulled out your phone, beginning to type out a message to Ominis, figuring you should probably update your friends on Sebastianâs status.
âOf course I will. Someone needs to watch you, make you dinner-â
âI mean⊠overnight. Will you stay here overnight?â You startled at the question, finally turning to look at him.Â
It was a rare sight to see Sebastian so vulnerable. In all the years you had known him, you had always known him to be the exact opposite. He was head-strong, intelligent, determined, ambitious, and cared deeply about those that he cherished. You knew he needed you. You knew you had to stay, regardless of how horrible you felt.
âI will,â you said, words punctuated as if it was a promise. âJust let me call Ominis and see if he can drop off some of my things.â
You both knew that wasnât necessary. Not even two nights ago, you had managed just fine with his shirt. But this visit didnât have the air of surprise the other one did. It was already evening, evidenced by the lack of light pouring into the living room. Besides, you knew it would be easier for you to focus, be professional and ensure that Sebastian was okay if you had your own pajamas. You didnât think about how sharing a bed would probably negate any walls you did try to throw up, as that was a problem for a few hours from now.Â
You shot off a text to Ominis, then moved into the kitchen. âWhat do you have in terms of fixings for dinner? You must be starving by now.â
âYou know me too well.â Sebastian joked, a smile crossing his lips.
You couldnât help but feel the irony, given he really didnât know you, or what you were capable of, at all.
friendly reminder that having a draft is not the same as having a chapter.
iâve got the bones. the scenes exist. the emotional beats are there (i think?).
now i just have to survive the editing phase where i stare at the same words for three days straight, convince myself iâve forgotten how to write, rewrite every other paragraph, and emerge from the experience as a changed personâHA!
editing gods⊠i offer you my sanity. please grant me patience in return đ«
i am just dropping in to say that i discovered your work on monday and have made my way through EVERYTHING. you are an absolutely incredible writer. i am in awe. i am inspired.
i hope you love what you do and recognize how beautiful it is and how talented you are!!
thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing.
your stories are my favorite that iâve read in a long time, and iâve been reading fanfiction (and more obvi) for almost 20 years.
anyway thatâs all. i hope youâre having a great day! byyyeeee
Oh my. This is genuinely one of the sweetest messages Iâve ever received. I just came back from a short holiday so Iâm sorry for the late response! But this was such a TREAT to read! đ„č
Seriously though, thank you. Writing can sometimes feel like tossing little pieces of my brain and self into the void and hoping someone out there enjoys them.
Itâs such an honour to hear that youâve been reading fanfiction for nearly 20 years and still connected with my stories. That means more than I can say.
Youâve absolutely made my day. I hope youâre having a wonderful day too, and thank you for spending some of it with my stories â„ïž
(Now Iâm super motivated the next chapters of my fic haha)
