#garreth weasley

[keri-mcberry]

HL2 announcement trailer when? I’m ready ✨

[voguesriot]

NOT A LOT / JUST FOREVER ✹ sebastian sallow

( summary ) when harry potter said he wanted a reason to skip potions, he didn’t expect to wind up developing a kinship with a portrait of a young witch by the kitchens, but how can he complain when her smile is just as welcoming as her stories?

( pairing ) sebastian sallow x female!reader (mc), platonic!harry potter x female!reader, small mention of ominis gaunt x anne sallow

( notes/warnings ) set during the philosophers stone and the end of the deathly hallows! part of the ‘the house of the rising sun’ universe! this was supposed to be a mostly seb/minorly harry fic but it kind of inverted because i love harry potter and want to wrap him in a warm blanket and keep him safe forever. also!!! this is the first proper fic i’ve written in over a year so pls be kind 🤍. angst but mostly fluff! reader assuming a motherly role with harry! low-key sebastian assuming a fatherly role with harry too! canon-compliant violence mentions! minimal usage of y/n! not proofread!

Harry Potter had known torment like no other. Stood little over 5 foot tall, he had felt blistering rage poured from callous hands and the bitter loneliness nipping at his guts. But none of it, not the broom cupboard, not the scar, would be worse that enduring another double potions class.

And so, the boy who lived took a left turn down a spiral staircase instead of carrying on to the dungeons and followed the candlelit corridors until he found himself facing a dead-end. It was, he thought, maybe the most peaceful part of the castle he’d seen in his two months of admittance. There was no cobwebbed ceiling corners, no scathing suits of armour, no ghastly ghosts taunting his every breath. The walls were barren except for a lone portrait frame displayed on the far wall. Harry walked closer.

It was an empty frame, holding only a background of red curtains and a plush sofa. He wondered who that frame was meant to home and worried his footsteps had frightened them off. He turned to walk away, to find a shadowy area by one of the far courtyards where he could waste the rest of his two hours. But just as he did so, back already to the wall, he heard a gentle voice.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?”

Harry’s head whipped to the frame once more with such speed he wouldn’t be shocked to feel a sharp pain in the morning. Sat on the sofa was now a witch who looked to be older than him, if only by a few years. She wore a white collared shirt with a red tie and a long grey skirt beneath dark brown overcoat. There was a scar on her left cheek that Harry believed he’d find intimidating on anyone else, but something in the way she smiled at him, the softness of her eyes, told him he’d struggle to find an off-putting thing about her.

He hadn’t even realised he’d been staring, lips parted, question ignored, until she let out a small laugh. Harry Potter had been laughed at before, he’d been laughed at before he’d even been born, he knew what it meant for two people to share a look and a giggle when you speak — or, more aptly, don’t speak. But the insult he was accustomed to never came. He felt no wave of shame, no cheeks reddened with embarrassment. In a strange act of fate, he found himself laughing with her.

“I’m Y/n Sallow. Pleased to make your acquaintance…” She paused and nodded for him to introduce himself.

“Harry. Harry Potter.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “I’ve heard many things about you. It’s good to put a face to the name. So, Harry, my question still remains; are you lost?”

“I have double potions.”

She laughed again and so did he. “I see. You know, I remember your professor when he was about your age. Terribly frightened boy, but wildly genius.”

“He hates me for something that isn’t my fault.”

“People tend to channel anger when their other feelings are too confusing. It’s easier for them. But I know how you feel, love. Believe me.”

“Nobody knows how I feel.” Harry didn’t like how self-effacing he sounded, but to him it was mere truth. Nobody else had lost in the same ways he had and been forced to live with its guilt, nobody else was thrust into the war of a world they didn’t understand.

“You only say that because you haven’t taken History of Magic yet.”

Harry looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Get comfortable.” The boy took off his robe and folded in the floor, sitting atop it and crossing his legs, elbows resting on his knees.

For the next three hours, Harry paid no need to the fact he had missed a charms lesson, as he found himself immersed in the stories she told. Of long-dormant repositories of ancient magic, of goblins, and poachers, and graphorns, and plight, the scale of what he faced seemed not dwarfed, but levelled by that of her own.

She told him of the fears she felt as she entered the Great Hall, how lonely she was on her first day, and Harry felt his heart swell at the fortune of meeting Ron as early as he did. When he said this, she smiled and said Ron reminded her of an old friend, a former Hufflepuff and renowned magiczoologist.

“She said she didn’t have many friends before I arrived, which caught me by such surprise, because I believed her to be one of the kindest witches I had ever met. One of the bravest too. In fact, she led me on one of the most remarkable adventures of my life…” She said, a melancholic smile on her face as she talked of Golden Snidgets and centaurs.

As their second hour drew to a close, she brought her storytelling to a sudden halt. “Enough of me. Darling, how has Hogwarts been for you?”

Harry paused, having barely reflected on the question himself. “It’s been good.” A moment of silence. “I think.”

“You think?”

“It’s just…” His breath caught in his throat, as millions of thoughts came to mind but to words followed suit. “I just feel so out of place. I found out about magic two months ago, and suddenly everyone has these big expectations of me because of what happened when I was a baby.” She nodded in understanding and felt her heart break in her chest.

When you looked at him, you saw him not as a prodigal son or a budding star, but as the child he was. His glasses slightly crooked, almost hanging off his nose, his cheeks red and rosy, his eyes downcast. He looked a mirror of you, and you hated it with a ferocity you hadn’t felt in years.

It was supposed to end with you, the torment of children, the horror of destiny. You still remembered the terror you felt when you first touched that portkey, when Fig told you more of those iron-clad knights would follow, when the fate of a world you knew naught about was thrust upon your fifteen-year-old shoulders.

When Ranrok was defeated and you were told you’d be safe, you were lied to. The poachers still came in droves, angrier, smarter, fit to kill with the taste of your blood in their mouths. More loyalists subscribed to Ranrok’s ideals and strived off the image of your head mounted on a wall. There was always new monsters to fight, new people in need, new reasons to run away and forge a new life.

But you never did, you never took the bait. You knew that if you left, if you abandoned your responsibilities that eventually they would fall onto another you. Another child born with your gift, and they too would know true loneliness and fear and you could not let that happen.

You graduated and became a freelance cursebreaker. If people felt unsafe, you were the first port of call. You risked your life with the sole mission of preventing another child from filling your shoes. You did all this, and it meant nothing. It meant nothing because now, over a century later, a young boy is being punished for actions he didn’t commit, tormented for events out of his control.

Harry Potter was cut from the same cloth as you, and so, you listened.

The bell tower tolled and sent a shock down Harry’s spine. Was it lunchtime already? He stood up and dusted off his cloak. “Do you ever get lonely?” He asked. “All the other portraits have others around them.”

“I rarely dwell in this frame, to be honest. I have a few others around, there’s one by the Magical Theory classroom on the fourth floor of the Astronomy wing. That’s where I spend most of my time, but I’ve got two in Hogsmeade, another in a run-down hamlet southwest of here, even have one in America.” You gave him a sweet smile. “The portrait of the old potions professor, Aesop Sharp, sends word for me whenever he sees someone come down this hall. Say hello to him when you pass, will you?”

He nodded his head, halfway down the corridor before he turned around and hoped you hadn’t gone yet. “Thank you for this. Is it—” he paused again and took a deep breath, “is it alright if I come here again? If I can talk to you again?”

His heart pounded in his throat, caught with a fear of you saying no. Of laughing at him for finding such comfort in a mere conversation. Harry Potter had long since accepted that he’d never truly know the feeling of being cared for, being heard. He had made his peace with such a thing. He was a child now, but he’d grow. He’d grow in his own and he’d grow to be a kind man who cared for others with kindness never afforded for him. He was okay with this, but now that he’d met you, he knew he couldn’t live that way anymore.

He’d never had enough material things to be selfish over, but he’d be selfish now if he needed to. He needed this again, this feeling of being truly seen and understood.

Ever since he came to the wizarding world, Harry had been told he had his mother’s eyes, her kindness and warmth. Looking at you now, he figured you were the closest to her he’d find. In the softness of your gaze, he shed the weight of his worries.

You smiled again and nodded. “Tell dear Aesop to send word whenever you need me, darling.”

His feet felt lighter as they travelled up the steps, eagerly searching for a portrait he hadn’t noticed before until he was outside the potions classroom and read the golden plaque. Aesop Sharp.

The man had a gruff face with rugged stubble and scars on his chin. His lips quirked up with a thin veil of remembrance. “I take it she arrived on time?”

“She said to say ‘hi’. And thank you.”

“She thanked me?”

“I’m thanking you.” Aesop only hummed and nodded.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, boy. Other than the fact that your potions professor will be kept uninformed of your detour.” Harry’s cheeks flushed a deep red and Aesop let out what could almost be considered a laugh. “It’s best you run along now. The rest—the first—of your classes will drag on an empty stomach.”

“I was wondering when you’d return.” Sebastian teased from the frame. “Almost four whole hours on my own with only Weasley for company.”

As you joined Sebastian in the portrait, settling comfortably on the sofa he’d been sprawled across, his arm found a comfortable place around your shoulders, holding you close.

Garreth, whose portrait was on the corner wall to the left of yours by his request, let out a hearty laugh at that. “You say that as though you weren’t the one recount all the old days, Sallow. No need to try impress the lady, you fooled her years ago.”

“Don’t be rude, Garreth. It’s sweet he cares so much after all these years.” Poppy chided from her frame beside his, appearing just as Natty did across from her.

“Where’s Ominis?” You asked, expecting a quip from your dear friend.

“He went to visit Feldcroft. Said he missed the place and wanted to see how ol’ Victoria is holding up.” You smiled as Sebastian mentioned Ominis and Anne’s great-great granddaughter.

“It’s is sweet that they stay in such close touch.” You smiled. “We must visit again soon. Adam is still in London, I think. His daughter is starting Hogwarts next year. Same with Sarah’s son.” Your heart swelled at the thought of the family of your own.

“It’ll be nice not to be the only one here with family visits in the castle.” Garreth said.

“My boy will be nothing like your Percy.” Sebastian defended.

“If he’s anything like you, he’ll be exactly like the twins, though.”

“I heard Imelda gave them an earful last week after they almost blew up her frame by the Trophy Room.” Natty laughed. “They’re definitely Weasley’s.”

“There’ll be more of them than there is Ravenclaw’s with the way things are going.” Poppy commented. “A young boy this year, and a girl next?”

“What can I say, we’re family people! I heard Ron’s befriended the Potter boy.” At this, your ears perked up.

“Harry?”

“Uh-oh.” Sebastian taunted, toying with a stand of your hair. “Something tells me you’ve taken someone under your wing again.”

You pinched his side as the others chuckled joked between themselves. “You say that as though it’s a bad thing. I thought you liked when I cared for people.”

“I do.” He smiled, putting his hand on the back of your head and pulling you close to press a kiss to your temple. “Just find it a bit funny is all.”

“I want all of you to keep an eye on him. I was talking him today and I could feel this— this— this loneliness hanging around him. He was talking to me and it felt like I was talking to myself at fifteen.”

A silence washed over the portraits. They’d seen you through it all. They saw you when Lodgok passed, when Fig passed, when everything worked against you and there was nothing they could do to help. Sebastian’s grip on you tightened, guilt stirring in the pits of his stomach.

It had been almost two centuries since everything with Anne’s curse had come to pass. He’d apologised countless times, kneeling before you with his head hung his shame and your hands held tightly in his, tears staining your skirts. You’d forgiven him just as many. You cradled his face and kissed his cheeks and told him that what happened then mattered no more than what you had for dinner the night prior. He was still your love, and you were the lone focus of his devotion, that was what mattered.

But time does not heal all wounds, and there would always be a part of you that remembered how he had to mean Crucio and how he didn’t write to you at all that summer, just as there would always be a part of him that yearned to go back and beat sense into the younger version of him who saw you as only a means of rescuing Anne.

They all knew how important the safety of the boy would grow to be to you, and made a silent pact to follow through with whatever you asked.

“I still remember when James and Lily were in first year.” Lamented Poppy. “She knew how to put a boy in his place. Could’ve learned a lot from her in our years.”

“She was so lovely, too. I always knew she’d become Head Girl. She reminded me of Amit. Always so smart but just as kind.” Natty sighed. “How’s Amit doing anyways, Y/n? You were the last to visit the library.”

“He’s well. Apparently a seventh year recognised him from his books the other day, he’s just as bashful as ever. Got red even recounting the story.” You grinned fondly.

“I remember how jealous Sebastian was on your first Astronomy lesson when Professor Shah volunteered Amit to share a telescope with you instead of him.” Garreth laughed, a deep laugh that came from the back of his throat.

“I was not jealous!”

“You were.” It seemed Ominis had a penchant for arriving just when Sebastian needed to be put in his place. “I couldn’t see it but I could sense it. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“I couldn’t tell, if that makes you feel better.” You attempted to console.

“He professed his love to you for a year and you couldn’t tell. That’s no consolation.” It seemed he had a penchant for catching you out as well.

“Easy, Gaunt.” Sebastian warned. “Let’s not forget five years of pining for Anne. Makes our thing look like a breeze.”

Your friend halted and shook his head, a breathy laugh escaping him. “You have me there, Sebastian.”

“How’s Vic?”

“She’s good. Really good. Asking after the lot of you, Poppy especially.” The former magiczoologist furrowed her brows. “Said your research papers on mooncalves have been an invaluable asset to her work on rescuing and rehoming them.”

“I always knew she’d do brilliant things.” Poppy beamed. “It was a guarantee given who her family is.”

You settled further into Sebastian’s embrace as the conversation rolled on, head on his shoulder and relishing in his warmth. This was the kind of peace you so desperately longed for in your girlhood, this was the home you fought so hard to protect, safe in the arms of your love and the company of your family.

You could only pray Harry found the same someday.

It became routine for the boy to visit your portrait over the months that passed, so much so that Aesop no longer needed to send for you when Harry passed because you’d be there already, waiting.

You felt a kinship with him that you could only compare to the bond you had felt with your own children all those years ago. You loved your great-grandchildren dearly, but they had inherited your wanderlust and seemed nearly impossible to get a hold of, a feat made even more difficult given your inability to do… anything, really. But Harry was here, in need of guidance, a service you were more than willing to give.

When you heard he won quidditch matches, you’d leap from your sofa and nearly wept with pride, just as you did with every assignment result he relayed to you. Harry seemed to preen to your praise.

You quickly became his confidant. He told you of his years with the Dursleys, his troll encounter at Halloween (where you had laughed at another similarity between the pair of you), his fears of Voldemort, and, eventually, his plans to find the Philosopher’s Stone.

“You must promise me you’ll be careful, Harry.” You warned. “It’s no small feat you’re about to undertake, do not underestimate it by any means. Without a doubt, you’ll be trialled before you find the stone, you have to keep a clear head. Do not let yourself get distracted, if only for a moment.”

There was a taught crease between your brows and your shoulders were tensed with worry. The boy seemed almost apologetic as he nodded. “I swear it. Ron and Hermione will help me too. I won’t be alone.”

You remembered how happy he was when he spoke of his friends, so similar to how you did. He seemed to glow with the joy of being accepted not despite being know, but because of it instead. “You keep an eye out for them as well. I don’t want to hear any stories of a first year sent to the Hospital Wing.”

An authoritative edge laced your voice that set Harry’s spine straight, heart clenching at the protectiveness you showed over him and those he held close.

“Harry,” your words were gentler now, softer, “you’re a brilliant wizard, destined to do great things, but you do not have to do them now. Not if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready. I have to do this. If I don’t, who else will?”

In a humbling moment, you realised there was nothing you could say to the boy that wouldn’t be wholly hypocritical. “Just—” you sighed, “promise me that you’ll come visit when you’re done, let me know you’re safe, tell me of your adventure.”

“I promise.” He smiled.

Later that evening, when curfew had long been set, you found yourself visiting the Trophy Room for the first time in many months. You smiled at Imelda as you passed through the portrait across from her.

“Hello, old friend.” You grinned warmly, stepping into the portrait of Eleazer Fig, tucked away behind the Goblet of Fire.

The man seemed to melt in your presence, a bright smile taking over his face as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“It’s been far too long, sweet girl.” He said in your ear, still holding you close.

“I fear an apology is in order.” You said almost feebly.

“What ever for?”

“I believe I now know the torment you felt in our year together.” A laugh escaped you. “I’ve developed a friendship with the young Potter boy.”

Fig nodded his head in understanding. “You worry for the child?”

“With every dawn. To know he’s in such danger and I am unable to help— it’s a cruel torture.”

“I know.” His hands found your own. “No child should have to face what he will — what you did. But if you stand by him whenever he calls, know that is the help he needs. The support of someone who has seen what he has and come out to lead a better life will give him the hope he needs to persevere.”

You hadn’t realised there were even tears in your eyes until they dropped onto your cheeks. It was one of Fig’s many talents to draw the rawest, most powerful emotions from within you.

Over the years, you’d gone to him when the slightest problems left you upset. You’d run to his portrait whenever you didn’t want to sit through History of Magic and sit on the floor and tell him everything there was to tell, from your breakfast that day to the deepest fears in year heart.

“Believe me, child. If he is in any way like you, he will shock you with abilities. I know you shocked me.” He moved to cradle your face softly, resting his forehead against your own.

“I feel so helpless. None of what he stands before is fair. He’s only a boy.” He knew the truth of your words, for they’d been said to him before Harry Potter had even been born. I am so helpless. None of this is fair. I’m only a girl.

“All you can do for him is let him know that you will always be there, never to judge, only to support. The boy needs comfort and normalcy, so that is what you must remain.”

“You’ve always known just what to say.” You smiled at him, face wrought with melancholia.

“It has always been easy to speak with you, friend. You were the closest I’d ever gotten to a child of my own.” His own eyes shone now. “Miriam truly would’ve adored you. The pair of you would’ve driven me mad.”

You let out a watery laugh and pulled him into another tight embrace, your chin tucked over his shoulder, anchoring you to him as you stayed that way for an indiscernible about of time before making your way down to your lone portrait to anxiously wait for Harry’s arrival.

The end of the school year drew close faster than any of the others had, you were sure of it, and soon Harry was sat before you, still shaking with the excitement of winning Gryffindor the House Cup, telling you of how happy the last year had made him.

“I’ll miss you, though.” He frowned. “Don’t suppose you have any portraits near Surrey?”

“I’m afraid not, sweet one. But I’ll be here when you return, eagerly awaiting your stories of summer. Maybe I’ll have some new ones myself too.”

A comfortable silence passed through you both, Harry pulling at him fingers and you looking down at him warmly. “I’m so proud of you, Harry.” He looked up at you quickly, a flicker of shock on his face.

“You’re so brave, so strong, so kind. You’ve dealt with more danger this past year than most wizards do in their lifetime, and you’re still here to tell the tale, still smiling while you do it. It’s a remarkable thing. I hope you know that.”

A tear caught the light trickling in from the corridor’s high windows as it dropped from his eyes, irises swimming with gratitude and remnants of pain he was not yet willing to divulge. He thanked you once more with an earnest sincerity that was so rare to see, and then left to pack his things, swearing to visit you again on September 1st.

As Harry sat staring out his window in The Leaky Cauldron at the dull night sky, knees pulled to his chest and hands clasped tightly together, he wondered how it was possible for him to feel more alone than ever, exiled from the house he grew up in, waiting anxiously for his thirteenth birthday to come.

He wanted to be back in Hogwarts. People cared for him in Hogwarts. You cared for him in Hogwarts. Here the bed creaked and the pipes clanged and the wind whistled as it came through the windows and his loneliness made him feel sick. So Harry did what he always did when he needed a distraction, he went for a walk.

The floorboards groaned beneath his weight, a small sound seeming so mammoth when laid before a silent hallway. If he listened hard enough, Harry could hear the quiet drone of conversation and drunken laughter from lingering patrons downstairs, but he carried on his path away until it was just him and his steady breaths.

“Are you lost?” A portrait asked making the boy jump from his skin. A masculine voice, deep and authoritative but complete with a soothing edge Harry likened vaguely to Arthur Weasley or Dumbledore.

Harry turned to face his frame. It was a simple model, nothing fancy enough to seem out of place in its dwelling, but polished enough to know it was revered. The man was beautiful, Harry thought. With freckled cheeks, big brown eyes, and a slightly flattened nose. He smiled at Harry’s hesitation, a small, kind thing, as though he were welcoming an old friend or coaxing a fawn from hiding.

Sebastian Sallow. Auror. 1875-1938. The golden plaque beneath him read. The last name made Harry’s breath hitch. Sallow.

You’d told him stories of your lover many times, of how you found each other just as you needed it most, how you stayed by him when no others would and how he returned the debt in kind. Harry had almost been able to fall in love with the man through your words alone.

“You’re Y/n’s husband.” He blurted without thinking, and Sebastian’s small smile grew to split his face, a deep laugh rumbling from his chest.

“It is one of my grander accomplishments.” A confident content that could almost be confused for smugness settled on his face. “And you’re Harry Potter. I’ve heard many things about you. Seems you’ve managed to quite entrance my wife.”

A dark red flooded Harry’s cheeks. “She’s very kind.”

“She is indeed. Though, she’d kill me if I didn’t ask what brings you here.”

Harry paused. “I couldn’t stay home any longer.”

Sebastian clicked his tongue, humming in acknowledgment. “I understand. Are you alright?”

It was a simple question, one he normally would’ve brushed off without second thought, but Sebastian seemed to share your ability of coaxing out Harry’s deepest truth. “I don’t know.”

A tense beat passed between them, neither knowing exactly what to say, both knowing you would if you were there, until Sebastian eventually broke the silence. “I remember when I felt like that.” Harry looked at him inquisitively.

“Christmas in our fifth year, I had… a falling out with my uncle and sister. The thought of going back home made me feel ill, so I didn’t. For the first time, I spent the holiday in the castle, just as she did.”

December 22nd, 1890.

A grey cloud seemed eternally settled above Sebastian’s head and the sight of your friend’s unspoken torment made your skin crawl. Ominis had just departed for Gaunt Manor, making hushed comment on the fact he’d likely be back within a week. You wished he hadn’t left at all.

Your worry for Sebastian had been gnawing away at you ever since the events surrounding Salazar’s Sciptorium. You feared for the path he threatened to follow, the darkness settling into the far corners of his mind. His nose was always stuck in the damned book you found in that room, reading, searching, and scouring for anything that would help Anne.

A small part of you knew he would give his own life to absolve her of that pain, a larger part feared he would give yours too.

“Have you eaten?” You asked him, taking a gentle approach with deliberate steps towards his hunched-over frame, careful not to startle him.

“Hm?” He hummed in half-acknowledgment.

“I said, ‘Have you eaten?’” There was a smile evident in your voice as you pulled out the chair beside him.

“Oh— Uhm, not yet.” He brushed off your concern. You thought Sebastian was clever, but if he truly was, he would’ve known you wouldn’t let up that easily.

You sighed, standing up again and patting his shoulders. “Up.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Up. You’ve been sat here every day this past week from dawn till dusk and I will not let it carry on any longer.” He hung his lead low and shook it slightly and you could tell he was fighting a smile. “If you won’t move for the sake of yourself, do it for the sake of chivalry. I intend to go to Hogsmeade and don’t wish to go alone. For safety.”

“You and I both know you’d best any opponents that cross us before I could even ready my wand.” He laughed, but he was slowly gathering his things and tucking them beneath his arm.

“Not if my opponent is loneliness. Come on, Sebastian. Entertain me.” You didn’t even attempt to hide your smugness as he stood by your side, holding his arm out for you to take. “How charming.” You commented, your hand resting on his elbow as he guided you from Hogwarts.

After spending almost every day of the past three months in your company, Sebastian had come to think nothing of mindless affection.

He noticed it first in your interactions with Natsai. How you pulled her into a tight embrace after she won a round of Crossed Wands, only letting go when it was your turn to duel.

Then it was with Poppy. How the pair of you always seemed to sit or stand close enough to each other to touch in some way. How she’d place her head on your shoulder and you’d rest yours on top of hers.

Even with Anne, who you had only just met, you placed your hands on her shoulders ever-so-softly as she told you of her strife. It seemed to natural for you to touch those you cared for.

He realised you were more hesitant to show affection to your male classmates. You’d hold Garreth’s arm as you laughed at a joke, but always retracted after a few seconds. But the Scriptorium changed everything.

In the moment, he supposed it was mere adrenaline, that the way you tightly squeezed Ominis after his parseltounge display was a mere product of high tensions. But when he cast Crucio, he saw Ominis react in a way he never had before. Ominis grabbed you and held you close as you cried and thrashed in his arms, hands shaking as he fought every urge in him to leave you alone and fend off him own haunting memories.

After that, you and Ominis became more freely affectionate than ever, sparking more than a few courtship rumours that made Sebastian’s heart race more than they should have. The blond boy would let you lead him through crowded areas where his wand might have failed him. You’d let him lean against you in History of Magic.

Your closeness with Sebastian was forged from a moment of weakness on his end.

A week prior to the Christmas break, the day Sebastian decided not to return to Feldcroft, you’d caught him sat on a bench by the greenhouses, watching the wildflowers billow in the moonlight. His hands were clasped before him, his knee kept bouncing, and his brows were furrowed into a deep line.

You approached him just as you had in the library, with a soft tenderness, inviting him to the Room of Requirement for some space to clear his mind.

He took his anger out of conjured training dummies and yelled so loud you had to move your diricawls to a different vivarium so they wouldn’t get scared until, eventually, he collapsed onto one of the sofas you had set up in the middle of the room. The last thing he remembered of that night was your fingers combing through his hair. And then he woke up, his head resting in your lap, your hands still in his tresses. He sat up quickly, instantly aware of how compromising such a position could be.

You were fast asleep, head tilted back on the sofa in a way that must’ve been most uncomfortable. His cheeks warmed at the thought of you sitting through that for his sake. He took off his robe and draped it over your frame, smiling as you subconsciously curled around it.

From that night on, it felt like a barrier had been broken between the two of you. Sebastian’s hand would seek yours beneath tables, his touch would linger on the small of your back in Hogsmeade.

“She always made me feel welcomed.” He said to Harry, eyes glazed over as he stayed half-distracted is his reminiscence. “She did that for everyone.” A laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “I remember all of our daughter’s friends wanted to come stay at our home just to see her. No matter how busy she was with work, she’d make them food and sweets and entertain whatever stories they had to tell her.”

Harry found himself laughing too, a sense of longing rooting him in his spot. He watched Sebastian, who he’d read about as a formidable curse-breaker unafraid of anything, turn to nothing more than a smitten schoolchild at the recollection of your younger memories and wondered what it would’ve been like to hear such stories from his own father.

“When she passed, it seemed as though the world itself stopped to grieve. Our Annie didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know how to help her. I mean, how can you tell a child her mother is dead?” Sebastian was vaguely aware that he was preaching to the wrong choir, but he so rarely got to wallow in the pain he felt all those years ago and found himself swept into its storm all over again.

The word ‘child’ caught Harry’s ears and made him look at Sebastian in confusion. “How could Anne be a child when Y/n passed? She said you had her at thirty.”

Sebastian’s mind cleared, shock melting to realisation on his face as the fact you’d kept your death from Harry dawned on him. “She was thirty-eight when it happened.”

“How?” Harry found himself asking without care for how insensitive it may have come across.

“It was supposed to be her final mission before retirement. She’d been worked to the bone for over twenty years, and if I carried on in my post, we’d have had more than enough money to carry on comfortably while she minded Anne. She was promised an easy case to finish it off, something about a loose canon in the south of France. She insisted to bring me along for ‘aid’ but I knew it was because the year prior I’d made comment about wanting to visit.”

“The case itself was fine, an old witch had written a barely legible spell book centuries before our time and passed it down from generation to generation as nothing more than mantle decoration, but it fell into the hands of a reckless wizard. Between the two of us, he was contained easily, but he had a wife who didn’t know the full story. She saw none of his wrongdoings and only us defeating and detaining him. She cast a killing curse on me whilst my back was turned and—” His breath caught in his throat.

“Her valiance had always been both my most and least favourite trait of hers. She pushed me out of the way before anyone could blink.”

A heavy silence settled over them both. A pit weighed in Harry’s stomach, stoking a fire of anger at the injustice of the Wizarding World.

His mother was a kind woman. His father was a kind man. You were kind. And what kindness was afforded to you in return? A cold death by an uncaring wand? Is that what truly came from devotion? Is that what would come to him?

“I’m sorry.” Was all he managed to say to Sebastian.

“There’s no need. I’m with her now.” The man smiled back. “It’s funny, when we were younger, I would be so annoyed every time an artist requested to commission a painting of her because it took away from the time I could spend with her. But once she passed, I couldn’t have been more grateful for them, because it gave me infinite chances to speak with her again.”

It wasn’t long before Harry felt the gentle temptations of sleep crawl to the forefronts of his mind and he bid Sebastian adieu after making the portrait promise to say hello on his behalf.

Decades had passed now since that first fateful day in the potions corridor. Harry had grown from a feeble and uncertain boy to a man weathered by grief but uplifted by the love he gave and received in turn.

He recalled you saying once how you wished for him the same family you made with Sebastian and he liked to believe that he now did. His eldest son radiated a nervous energy as he hovered by the front door of his girlfriend’s parents house, his other children stood behind him, giggling at their brother’s anxiety, Ginny stood by his side and smiled up at him with a knowing look.

It was the first time they were meeting the girl’s family, having met her once or twice in passing when they dropped James Sirius off at 9 3/4, and Harry couldn’t have been more excited if he tried. The way his son seemed to glow at the mention of the girl put him in mind of how he did with Ginny, how Rob did with Hermione, how Sebastian had that night in the Leaky Cauldron.

He wondered how the two of you fared in the years since he last spoke with you. It seemed as he travelled for auror work, he found less and less time to spend in the Three Broomsticks speaking with a painting over a few too many firewhiskeys. He hoped you were well and that you’d be proud of what he managed to accomplish, that he carried on the ‘chosen one’ lineage with a happy ending just as you had before.

Before he could wallow any longer, the door swung open to reveal a woman with a warm smile and brown eyes. “Hello!” She beamed.

“Amelia?!” Ginny exclaimed with a bright before introductions could be made. The woman’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Ginny Weasley?!” The redhead ushered her children inside to give the other woman a tight hug. “Merlin, you’ve changed since Hogwarts.” She let out a breathy laugh, holding Ginny by the shoulders.

“We were in the same year.” Ginny explained to her husband while Amelia told the children her daughter was just ahead in the front room.

“Lovely to meet you officially, Harry.” Amelia smiled and shook his hand. “My husband’s just popped down to the shop to get some wine and I’m finishing up the dinner, so make yourselves comfortable. Food should be ready in about ten minutes.”

Ginny went inside to greet the girl her son was so besotted by while Harry stayed back to hang her coat. As he walked toward the front room, he took his time in admiring the artwork lining their walls. They were all nice pieces, although nothing seemed to grab his attention until he saw the plaque on the last one before the door.

He could hear the fire crackling and his family laughing, but there was only one thing he could focus on. Y/n and Sebastian Sallow.

He dared not look up for fear he’d somehow misremembered the name of the woman who saved his school time sanity and raised his hopes for naught. He kept his eyes firmly in the plaque until he heard that same soft voice once again.

“Hello, sweetheart. I thought you’d gotten lost.”

©voguesriot 2025

taglist (comment or send an ask if you want to be added!): n/a

[hiiragimare]

The 3rd Anniversary

[slytherinzz]

Sebastian: “Let’s make a pact: if either of us gets expelled, the other will smuggle us back in.”

Ominis: “If you get expelled, I’ll personally escort you out.”

[zumbiewrites]

The three times Sebastian Sallow almost kissed you and the one time he finally did. 

Summary: Sebastian Sallow is fine. Completely fine. Unless you fall asleep on him, fix his tie, corner him during a duel, or get asked out by Garreth Weasley.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: None really. Theres a bit of miscommunication and references to violence (none actually in it though)

NO USE OF Y/N OR MC AND ALL REFERENCES TO READER ARE GENDER NEUTRAL. The house can also be ambiguous if you ignore the one single time i loosely gave the notion that they shared one.

A/N:Oopsies, went dark after one post lmao. I’ve got a good reason though! I’ve been writing a Fred Weasley slowburn that’s being posted on ao3 and wattpad! It’s called The Great War and its under the user name sqweasley on wattpad and zumbierum on ao3,, and you should totallyyyy check it out 

Available on ao3 also! Have fun ;)

The first time was in the Undercroft:

The two of you were pulling a late night study session in the Undercroft, Professor Sharp’s midterm swiftly approaching; both on the ground and surrounded by borderline useless textbooks and parchment filled with notes from class. You’d both assumed that cramming together the night before would be more beneficial than being strategic with the weeks of prep time you’d been given.

“This is insane. In what world would I both need to turn invisible for thirty seconds and be within arm’s reach of six and a quarter kilogram of troll bogeys?” You asked aloud, after reading yet another potion recipe. “Need to be practically invisible to get the blasted things.” You finished with a mutter and yawn, leaning your head back on the wall behind you two.

Sebastian let out a soft laugh, barely having the energy to internally encourage himself to continue studying, let alone you. “I think the point is to go in prepared, not to hope for an abandoned cauldron in a time of need.” 

Your eyes were beginning to flutter closed as you barely lifted your arm to wave him off. 

Things had always been a little, well, different between the both of you. From the moment you met during your fifth year at Hogwarts, there was always a tinge of extra affection in the air when you were together. A sly comment from either of you that could be taken either as possibly a bit flirty or simply as being a bit too nice, lingering looks after you’d survived something that could’ve went horribly wrong, or even walking just a bit too closely together in the hallways to your next class, with your shoulders and hands consistently brushing one another. 

Looking at you in this moment— messy hair, noticeably disheveled clothes, and ever-growing bags beneath your eyes— he found it harder to look away than he had before. He’d always known you were pretty, but Merlin, there was something about seeing you in such a state beside him, for only his eyes, that was different from every other time you’d spent late nights together.

Was it that this was one of the few times you both had been stressed about something relatively trivial in comparison to everything else. Or, was it how soft your lips looked in the glow of the torch light that shined from above you. Who was to say really. 

“Just agree with me right now, Sallow.” You muttered, eyes fully closed now, with no intention of opening them again. 

At this moment, with his gaze focused on taking in each and every detail of your lulled face, he was sure if you’d asked him to take on Ranrok himself, he would without a second thought. 

He took in a deep breath as he, unwillingly, tore his gaze away from you and back over to his stack of notes scattered around on the floor. “Probably save us both a bit of time if I did that.” He said, a smile evident in his tone. A half smirk formed on your face. He always did eventually end up agreeing with you, one way or another.

You only gave a hum in response, too tired to voice your own thoughts. 

There weren’t many times such as these, where you both could just be in each other's presence. One of your classmates was always needing help with some outside task, or the professors were giving out your extra assignments, or even the residents in local hamlets were needing your help with one thing or another. You were always glad to provide help where you could, but you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to think that you were missing out on much needed down time with your friends— if Sebastian could even be looped into that term. 

With another look towards you, barely hanging on to consciousness, he took the liberty in deciding that this had been enough for one night. Nothing you read now had any chance of sticking. Honestly, he’d be surprised if anything from tonight had, at least for him. He only took on this late study session with you because there was no telling when he would be able to see you outside of classes again afterwards. 

Quietly, he began gathering both of your things– parchments, quills, books— and arranging them in a neat pile. It was when he saw a few of his transfiguration notes were accidentally mixed with his potions ones, he remembered something funny that Amid had done during that class period, one of the many that you seemed to’ve missed. 

He let out an airy chuckle at the thought and tried to speak up to relay it to you. You were sure to get a kick out of it too. “Hey, the other da–” He began, barely turning his head to yours as he leaned back against the wall, too, only to be promptly cut off by the feeling of your head falling over onto his shoulder. 

He stilled as the scent of you drifted into his nose. 

So, this was life now, because there was no shot he was moving a muscle. Not when you were making yourself comfortable on him as if it was your right. He was scared to even take an unmeasured breath, too worried you’d move away.

“What were you saying?” You whispered out, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder. He was so sure that he could hear his heart pounding in his ears as you made it more evident that you showed no sign of wanting to leave your newly acquired position. 

He carefully let his shoulders loosen, and moved his leg out to push away the study material out of the way so he could let both of his legs freely stretch out. He lost all motivation to make his way back to his dorm room tonight. 

“It can wait, love.” He said, and you only nodded in response. He reached over to his, long forgotten, cloak and messily folded it into a makeshift pillow and put it on one of his legs. “Here, just lay down.” He spoke softly, carefully guiding your head to the cloak. You followed his movements without second thought, as you always had. 

“We should really go back to the common room.” You muttered, as you made yourself more comfortable in his lap. A soft smirk played across his face at the sight of your actions contradicting your words. He wondered if there was a way to bottle a memory. 

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right.” He said, as his eyes found their way to your lips once more. Were they as soft as they looked? As sweet as he’d imagined? He would give his life to find out. “Good night.” He added on. As if on instinct, he found himself slowly bending down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, as if he’d done it thousands of times before. It was when his face was inches from the top of your head, did he catch himself. 

He had never let his body speed past his mind like this before. What was wrong with him? This had to be the delirium, without a doubt. With a sharp breath, he shot his upper body back up with now widened eyes. He’d almost ruined things between you two, and for what? A moment of lapsed judgment? 

He looked back down at you, fully asleep on his lap, completely unaware of what had just nearly happened. 

He shook his head, and wiped a hand over his face. This could not— would not— happen again. Slowly, he crossed his arms, creating a barrier between the both of you, and rested his head on the wall behind him, looking up at the ceiling. Merlin, he had to get it together. 

The second time was when you fixed his tie:

This could hardly be deemed his fault. In fact, if it was anyone’s, it was yours. It was like you knew of every increasingly dangerous thought he’d been having since the Undercroft and were using them to get back at him for something he didn’t know he’d done. Why else would you keep looking at him like that, eyes going from his face to somewhere a little lower? Why else would you be reaching towards him?

“Come here.” You said, with furrowed eyebrows, pulling him closer by the tie around his neck before he had the chance to, willingly, follow your command. His throat bobbed at the sudden motion, suddenly sharing an intimate space with you. He refused to fight it, though. “How’d you go this long without realizing?” You spoke, hand drifting from the length of his tie, and following it up under his collar.  Had you actually wanted him too?  

His eyes tried to meet yours, but they were focused elsewhere. How could you say that so casually, and without looking at him? “W-well I—What?” He asked, taking all of you in, from your expression flickers to your all too close hand movements, completely unwilling to miss even a moment of what was happening. There was nowhere else he’d rather be at this moment. His eyes once again drifted down to your lips. They have been doing that all too frequently as of late, but they had been just as entrancing now as they’d been the first time his eyes wandered to them. Before he could do something he couldn’t take back, you opened your mouth. 

“Your tie. It’s a mess.” 

Oh. Yeah, obviously it’d been something like that. 

He wanted to let out a breath after that, the confirmation he was steadily building something in his head that simply wasn’t there, but your hands were still so close. He was sure that if your hands found themselves to the pulse point in his neck, you’d never get this close to him again. 

But what was he meant to do? You were the one who had given him that look. You were the one who had pulled him closer, by his tie no less. You were the one with traveling hands. This was your fault. It was your fault that he fantasized about how your lips would feel against his.  It was your fault that his heart was racing at the mere thought of what could’ve been. Most damningly, it was your fault that he wanted to throw everything built and true between you both in the wind and work towards something much deeper. 

Making the finishing touches on his tie, you looked up at him, meeting his darkened eyes. He seemed to have been lost in his mind, staring at one spot on your face. He had been going through a lot lately, so he really couldn’t be blamed. 

“You’re staring.” You said, patting his chest where his tie laid, taking a step back. Your eyes drifted past all of his features, and he couldn’t help but feel as though you were looking straight through him. You had to know. There was no way you didn’t. He wasn’t willing to risk being wrong about it though. No matter how much he wanted to. 

“Where else am I meant to look when you’re right in front of me?” He said, slyly, rolling his eyes and looking in any direction other than you for a moment. He needed to gather his surroundings. 

Your eyes narrowed at him while he wasn’t looking. “Are you alright?”

His eyes snapped back to you. Of course he wasn’t alright, you were right there. Right in arms reach. How could he ever be alright when his own mind kept betraying him with thoughts of you being even closer. He wished he had plausible deniability, but it was all too obvious where his eyes had been focused for an ungodly amount of time. Maybe you didn’t know. Maybe he could play this off. 

“Merlin, a guy gets lost in thought once and suddenly has a referral to St. Mongos.” He tried to laugh it off, but you only gave a half hearted one, still worried about him. He’d been acting very differently the past few weeks. “To class, shall we?” He offered, turning his body in the direction of your next destination, hands traveling to where your hands had been on his tie. “Now that I look proper and all.” He desperately hoped that you hadn’t noticed how nearly every time he looked at you, his eyes went directly from your eyes to your mouth. 

You shook the previous thoughts from your head. If there was something going on, surely he’d let you know. “Right, yeah. Let’s.” You said with a soft smile, beginning to walk beside him and match pace. 

You spent the entire walk to class trying to convince yourself that he was okay and that nothing too terrible was going on in his head, despite the ones he’d already told you about, and he spent the entire walk trying to convince himself that every time your hands brushed one another’s, it hadn’t meant anything. 

The third time was after dueling:

More times than he could count, you both found yourselves practicing dueling moves on one another in the Undercroft. He wanted to get better and move up in Cross Wands, and you, well, you wanted to survive in your travels outside of the castle. 

So, there you two were, circling one another in the middle of the room, both trying to strategize your next moves. Though, it was mainly just you who had been in that moment. Your mind jumped through all the different spells you’d learned of the school year, and tried to figure out which ones would make for the best combination against Ashwinders or trolls, but wouldn’t really hurt him if you pulled their punch.

He, however, had long lost his concentration on spells and was growingly focused on the deeply serious look on your face. Your narrowed eyes that made him feel like it’d only take one wrong move for it to all be over, your messy hair that was only made worse the longer you both spent like this, and the slight pout on your lips. Your lips. By this point he’d long well known that once his attention had been grabbed by them, he was done for, for an immeasurable amount of time. This had to count as cheating by this point. 

When he saw the way you sucked in your bottom lip between your teeth, he knew he had to do something to change the view in front of him. If he didn’t soon, his mind would wander to the thought of taking it in between his own to pull you closer. Maybe your hands would travel into his hair. Maybe you would press yourself closer to him, unable to get enough. Maybe you would push him closer from the back of his neck. Maybe his hand would—

“You gonna make a move or not?” He shouted to you, urgently escaping his mind. It was a futile attempt at best and damning evidence at worst with his eyes still needing to be forcibly restrained from wandering. 

You smirked. He was clearly distracted by something. He wasn’t giving it his all, so there would be no valuable information lost if the duel stopped here and now. You took a few slow paced steps towards him, wand still pointed. He loosely tried to counter your movements with his own backward ones, but was quickly met with a wall behind him. He looked back to make sure that it hadn’t just been a pillar, but when it was proven that he was slowly being intentionally cornered, he was suddenly thrown into the acting performance of his life. 

Oh no, you were growing closer to him, with a playful smirk unwavering from your face. What ever shall he do?

He mirrored you a bit more, raising his wand to be pointed more directly at you, as if he had any intention of getting you away from him. As you began closing in, he straightened his posture against the wall, wand still unwavering. He couldn’t push past the feeling of being prey that you were hunting. He definitely couldn’t push past how much he enjoyed it, either. As you took your final steps towards him, wand now pressing directly under his chin, his eyes found the very place he’d been trying not to look once more. 

“You have the survival instincts of a diricawl, Sallow.” You muttered, inches away from his face. You didn’t miss the way his eyes went from yours to a spot a bit lower. Your lips. 

He smirked, not moving his line of vision. This was too perfect, too welcoming for him. This left very little room for his mind to fabricate outs for your actions, excuses that you were just friends with nothing further underneath it all. “I’m exactly where I want to be, love.” 

You let out a sharp gasp. 

Only for a moment did his eyes leave your lips to meet your eyes, searching for any notion that you didn’t want what he was about to do to happen. His eyes quickly found your lips once more before fluttering closed as he began to lean in. He felt the pressure from your wand under his chin loosen, and he could’ve sworn that he also felt you lean towards him. You both had been so close to one another, he could feel your breath ghost across his mouth. Every wandering imagination scenario about how your kiss would feel against him raced through his mind— he was finally about to discover how his fantasies compared. 

That was until a jarring outside voice loudly broke through the silence. 

“If either of you have a wand raised, now would be the time to remember how to use it.” Ominis said, dryly from across the room. Both of the dueling wizards jerked their heads away from one another as they snapped to where the voice had come from. 

“Oh, Ominis. Hi.” You said swiftly, taking a step away from Sebastian, a warm red color now dusting over your features as you tried to look anywhere other than the boy who was still pressed against the wall. Ominis hummed in response as he moved closer to the both of you. 

Sebastian still hadn’t torn his eyes from you, though. He had been so, so close. So painstakingly close. He almost kissed you, and you almost let him. Things were about to change— happen. If Ominis would’ve just kept quiet even a second longer, he would’ve been able to play out the devastating daydreams that had been plaguing his mind since the night you two were studying in this very spot only a few weeks prior. He loved Ominis, he really did, almost like a brother, but at this very moment, he was struggling to find anything nice to say about the man. 

“Hello. Sebastian, I actually came for you. Professor Weasley needs us in her classroom. Something about a special assignment? I’m not too sure, exactly.” Ominis relayed. So he had interrupted for something he wasn’t even sure about? That was the final straw. He was now on his list, and so was Professor Weasley, for good measure. 

You cleared your throat. “Right, well, I’ll just…” You said, motioning towards the exit. “ I’ll catch you both later.” You said, quickly making your way out of the room. 

Sebastian’s eyes followed your figure until the door closed behind you, then turned his attention to his best friend. “What was that? We were in the middle of a duel.” He said, irritated. 

Ominis let out a scoff. “Right, that’s what we’re calling it now?” 

“You couldn’t have waited a moment longer?”

“I did.” Ominis said, leaning his head in. “Quite a generous amount of time, I thought. I can only listen to silence for so long.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and grumbled the entire way towards Professor Weasley’s classroom. Now that he had felt your breath against his lips, there was no doubt left in his mind that he was already hopelessly devoted to you—and likely would be for the rest of his days. Every lie that he’d been trying to build in his head since these thoughts began, had crumbled to dust the moment you had given him that small indication that you had felt the same way he had. 

The final time was when he nearly lost his chance:

He and Ominis were sitting at the Slytherin dining table one afternoon when Garreth Weasley came up to them and took a seat beside Ominis, across from Sebastian. It was no secret that the Slytherin duo weren’t too fond of the Weasley boy, but it was also no secret that you were. You were always helping him gather potion ingredients for his experiments and were known to be a willing test subject more than once. Because of that, they both tried to remain unctuous whenever they were forced into conversation with him. However, he sought them out this time, with no sign of you around. He was practically begging for it now.

“Weasley.” Ominis said, putting back down his sandwich he nearly took a bite of, before pushing his plate away, losing his appetite. Sebastian looked up at the unsightly boy and held back a strong eye roll. If Weasley told you that he was even remotely rude, you would be sure to let him hear about it.

“How’d you know it was me?” Garreth questioned. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” Ominis said, dryly. 

“Whatever that means. I was actually here for you, Sallow.” Garreth said, nodding his head over to Sebastian. Both of the Slytherin boy’s eyebrows shot up at this. He’d gotten their full attention with so few words. Props had to be given. Garreth might not’ve been bright necessarily, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Sebastian borderline hated him, he just didn’t know why. 

“What on Merlin’s Earth could you need with me?” 

“It’s about them.” Garreth said in a way that left no room for guessing who he was referring to. Sebastian immediately became much more suspicious, and narrowed his eyes at the self-proclaimed potioneer. 

“What about them?” Sebastian tried to ask casually, but it came out much more threatening. Ominis was beginning to wish he had literally anywhere else to be at this moment. 

“Nothing bad, Sallow.” Garreth said, only receiving a blank look in return. He let out an awkward laugh before he continued. “I just know, well, you know them best. You lot are practically the three musketeers. I was just wanting to ask them to Hogsmeade, and thought you’d know the best way to go about it.” Sebastian showed no sign that he heard a word that came out of his mouth, too lost in his own head. 

The feeling of your head on his shoulder, then lap. Your hands gripping his tie and pulling him closer, followed by them traveling around the collar of his shirt. Hands brushing in the hallways on the way to your shared classes. You standing right in front of him, dangerously close, wand pressed on him. The feeling of your breath over his lips. Then he imagined them all again, but Garreth in his place. It made him physically ill. 

Never on his worst day would he ever even consider the possibility. Now, though, it seemed to be all he could think about. The worst part was that there was no one else to blame but himself. He didn’t have any sort of claim over you. There were too many almosts and not enough things actually happening, and it was all his fault. After the first time he could’ve done something the following morning. After the second time he could’ve voiced his feelings then and there. Even after the third he could’ve stopped you from leaving or even met with you after. 

Now, the most annoying person he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting was asking for his advice on asking you on a date. He was trying to court you. And it made complete sense on why. 

“Sebastian…?” Ominis said, breaking the silence. Garreth looked between the two anxiously. Sebastian’s eyes slowly drifted over to his best friend, then back to Weasley. 

Feeling the weight of Sebastian’s stare, Garreth quickly continued. “I just thought if anything was going on between you two, It would’ve happened by now, is all.” 

Ominis groaned. How dense could one person be? Why would he phrase it like that to Sebastian at this moment. “Weasley, you–” Ominis started, but was immediately cut off by Sebastian. 

“Don’t.” 

“Don’t?” Garreth and Ominis asked in unison. 

“Don’t ask them to Hogsmeade.” He said much more seriously. Both of the other boys were beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable at the intensity. 

“Why not?”

Ominis moved his head over in Garreth’s direction. “You are a Gryffindor, through and through, aren’t you?” He said, referring to his ever present bravery. 

“Because if you’re already treating them as someone you need instructions for, it’ll end horribly for the both of you.” 

Garreth gave him a funny look. “Is there something going on between you two?”

Sebastian’s pointed gaze didn’t waver for a few moments, not until he saw you pass the window beside the dining hall exit, smiling and laughing with Poppy Sweeting. “There’s about to be.” He said, standing from his seat at the table and quickly making his way towards the exit. You’re not slipping by. Not again. Not when there was no promise of the next person coming to him before you. Not when there were so many almosts. 

Barging through the exit door, he immediately turned to the direction he’d seen you walking in. As he made his way down the stone stairs of the courtyard, he saw you a few paces away, saying your goodbyes to Poppy. Rushing his way over, you caught sight of him from the corner of your eye. 

When he was a few short steps away, he couldn’t stop the smile over his face. “I might’ve just ruined a date opportunity for you.” He sang, as he finished his approach. 

You gave him a confused look. “On purpose?” 

“Entirely.” 

“Bold, even from you, Sallow.” You said, crossing your arms at him. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets and lightly shrugged.” Trying something new, call it branching out.” 

“Branching out into what, exactly. Sabotage?” 

“Personally, I’d go with the term, honesty, but I can see how similar those two can be in reference to me. So, I’ll let it slide.”

“How generous of you.” You said, giving him a faux smile. “How about you try it now?” You asked him, rushing towards the point of not only the conversation, but also the reasoning for his meddling in your personal affairs. 

“Right.” He said, clearing his throat. “The reason I politely asked Weasley not to ask you to Hogsmeade was, because the thought alone frankly made me feel as though I ate an entire box of Puking Pastilles, and that was even before I imagined you saying yes to the git.” 

“Sounds an awful lot like jealousy rather than honesty, Sebastian.” You began to tease.

“Why not both?”

“And what exactly do you think gives you the right to not only be jealous but also meddle in my personal life?”

He gave a pointed laugh, “That’s the interesting part. Absolutely nothing.” You struggled to find the humor in the situation, but couldn’t stop the smirk from forming on your face regardless. “Nothing other than selfish motivations, really.”

“Selfish how?” You pressed further. If he was going to make you wait this long, he’d have to work for it. 

“In the way that I know I’ve had plenty of chances to say something to you, and that he still could’ve managed to do it first.” He finished, scratching the back of his neck, looking at the ground.

You took a step closer and raised his head back up with a single finger on his chin. “Say what, exactly?” You asked, looking into his eyes. They meet yours for a moment, then trial right back down to where they usually stayed. 

“That I wanted you long before Weasley ever even thought to ask. Studying in the Undercroft, you fixing my tie, after that duel.” He spoke softly, eyes slowly trailing back up to yours. “I’m getting very tired of the almost moments.”

Your smirk deepened as you moved your finger from his chin and your hand towards the back of his neck. “Then do something about it.” You whispered to him, eyes trailing down to his lips. 

A cocky smirk formed across his lips. For the first time, he didn’t overthink it. Carefully, he placed one hand on the back of your neck and the other at the base of your spine and pulled you in as close as he possibly could. His lips finally met yours and they felt like they were made for him. So plump, soft, and welcoming. He never wanted to leave this moment. The smell of you alone had been so intoxicating, he hadn’t noticed how your hand traveled from the back of his own neck and into his hair, and was softly tugging at his curls. 

After what seemed to be all too sudden, you pulled back from him, resting your forehead on his. Both of you were breathing heavily, as your eyes slowly met. 

“That was much better than I'd imagined.” You whispered, followed by a soft chuckle. He matched your laugh, elated at the fact that he hadn’t been suffering alone this entire time.

[dzukika]

Heloooo

[holdmymallowsweet]

Fifth Years of 1890/1891

Blume, Cressida - Clopton, Everett - Dale, Samantha   Everleigh, Lenora - Gaunt, Ominis - Hobhouse, Duncan  Larson, Andrew - McDowell, Violet - Morrison, Charlotte  Northcott, Eric - Oakes, Adelaide - Oggspire, Nellie  Onai, Natsai - Pehlwaan, Mahendra - Pinch-Smedley, Grace  Plummly, Arthur - Prewett, Leander - Reyes, Imelda Roberts, Nerida - Sallow, Sebastian - Sweeting, Poppy Thakkar, Amit - Weasley, Garreth - Unidentified Student

Absent: Sallow, Anne

Professors

Notes:

Big thanks to @eternalremorse for her post listing all of MC's classmates, it saved me most of the prepwork for this little project.

Priscilla Wakefield is not in any of the potions classes, at any time. I've replayed both several dozen times, and yes, I know there's a screenshot of her talking to Imelda on the wiki, I don't know when and how that was taken, but from what I can tell, she doesn't exist (at least not in any way that matters)

Also, I didn't include anyone who only shows up in flying class and nowhere else, as the attendance of Sophronia Franklin (who's confirmed to be a third year) definitively proves that that class isn't exclusively for fifth years.

I hope it's obvious that "unidentified student" is MC, I wanted to include them somehow (and had the row to fill anyways)

[inkantation-hl]

More Than Just Sweets Pt.1 (to be continued..)

Note: Happy late Valentines everyone! got caught up with life things so I wasn't able to finish this in time but hope you guys enjoy and stay tuned~