Unveiling the Draught
Summary: After being overwhelmed by exhaustion and guilt, Sebastian's emotional defenses finally crumble. He returns to the Slytherin common room drunk and confesses to Ominis his deepening obsession with the Pensieve memories and, more horrifyingly, his deception in giving her a potent sleeping draught. Ominis's shock gives way to profound anger, leaving Sebastian to face the consequences of his betrayal and the weight of his actions.
Word Count: 1056 words
The humid air of the Herbology greenhouse felt thick, almost suffocating. Dust motes danced in the shafts of the sunset light, illuminating the vibrant, sometimes aggressive, flora. She stood stiffly by her potting station, a wilting Mimbulus Mimbletonia in front of her, her body swaying almost imperceptibly. Professor Garlick, usually bustling amongst her plants with cheerful enthusiasm, paused, her sharp gaze fixing on her.
"Are you quite alright, my dear?" Professor Garlick asked, her voice low and discreet, stepping closer. "You seem... less than entirely present this morning. You are usually so attentive, so active during class."
She startled, her eyes blinking slowly, trying to clear the fog. "I'm fine, Professor," she mumbled, forcing a smile that felt brittle on her lips. "Just... a bit tired. I'll try to be more awake."
Professor Garlick's expression softened, a touch of genuine concern in her eyes. "Sixth year can be demanding, I know. But your health is paramount. Go. Get some proper rest. Don't worry about the class, Mr. Prewett can manage the cuttings today." She gave a gentle, reassuring nod.
"Thank you, Professor," she replied, the words thick with relief. She gathered her textbooks and parchment, her movements slow and heavy, and began to leave the classroom, desperate for the oblivion of sleep.
Sebastian, who had been meticulously repotting his own Mimbulus Mimbletonia nearby, had overheard the hushed exchange. His heart clenched. Exhausted. Cannot sleep properly. Garreth's brewing her something. The words replayed in his mind, sparking a fresh wave of guilt. He saw her pale face, the way she shuffled, and the desperate urge to run to her, to ask if she was truly alright, slammed into him. His feet, however, felt stuck to the stone floor, rooted by a complex mix of shame for the potent sleeping draughts he'd secretly given her, a crushing guilt seeing her struggle even more, and a bitter, unadmitted jealousy that Garreth was now the one offering the comfort he should have provided. He watched, feeling like a truly bad friend, utterly powerless.
Then, Garreth Weasley, emerging from behind, walked straight towards her, catching up just outside the greenhouse doors. Professor Garlick's voice, sharp and immediate, cut through the air. "Mr. Weasley! Where do you think you are going? The class is inside here!" But Garreth barely paused, his gaze fixed on her retreating figure. He broke into a run, calling her name. Professor Garlick sighed, her voice echoing with exasperation. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley!"
Sebastian couldn't hear their hushed conversation, but he saw Garreth's hand gently touch her arm and hand her a small vial with a light purple liquid, then her head drop to his shoulder in a quick, weary embrace. A moment later, she nodded, offered a small, tired smile, and disappeared down the corridor. Garreth walked back into the greenhouse, a stupidly wide, annoyingly soft smile on his face, a smile that made Sebastian's stomach churn with bitter envy. As he passed Sebastian's station, he clapped him on the shoulder, a casual, friendly gesture that made Sebastian's jaw clench.
Sebastian forced his gaze back to his Mimbulus Mimbletonia, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He wanted to rage, to throw something. That smile. He picked at a small, shriveled pod on the plant with unnecessary force, the familiar foul-smelling liquid threatening to ooze from its stem, though thankfully it remained dry. He found himself unable to concentrate, his mind consumed by a bitter mix of her vulnerability and Garreth's easy comfort.
Later, as classes finally ended for the day, Sebastian found himself unable to stomach the thought of his solitary obsession. He made his way to the Undercroft, but the Pensieve glowed mockingly in the dim light, the potential horrors within – the echoes of dark ancient magic, the chilling whispers of the past, the raw grief of Anne's suffering – doing nothing to quell the restless turmoil in his mind. The silence of the Undercroft, usually a solace, now felt oppressive, amplifying the frantic energy within him. He paced aimlessly through the castle corridors, the cool evening air doing little to soothe the turmoil. He ended up in Hogsmeade, his feet leading him instinctively towards the Hog's Head Inn, a place he usually only visited for illicit information, not solace.
The night air was cold against his face as he stumbled back into the Slytherin common room hours later, the faint, acrid scent of Firewhisky and stale tobacco clinging to him, announcing his return. He kicked off a boot, sending it clattering across the floor, then tripped over a discarded textbook. The loud thud shattered the quiet, and Ominis stirred in his bed.
"What in Merlin's name is going on?" Ominis's voice, sharp with alarm, cut through the darkness. "Sebastian? Is that you? What's that smell?"
Sebastian laughed, a harsh, brittle sound that echoed unnaturally in the quiet dorm. He swayed, leaning heavily against the wardrobe, the remnants of Ogden's Old Firewhisky burning in his throat. "Oh, Ominis," he slurred, his words thick with exhaustion and a dangerous lack of inhibition. "I'm a bad friend..." He ran a hand clumsily over his face.
Ominis wrinkled his nose, a disgusted sound escaping him. "That's nothing new, Sebastian," he replied, his voice hardening, devoid of its usual dry amusement. "But I suspect you're holding back more than just being 'a bad friend,' aren't you?"
He stumbled into the room, collapsing onto his bed with a groan. "I think... I think I might be obsessing a little. Over the memories. Just... a little." He squinted one eye, his thumb and forefinger almost meeting, as if trying to pinch the true extent of his fixation into something manageable.
Ominis sat bolt upright in his bed, the rustle of his blankets sharp in the sudden silence. His blind eyes seemed to bore into Sebastian, even through the darkness. "A little?" Ominis's voice was dangerously quiet, laced with a familiar I-told-you-so fury. "I knew it. I saw it building. I warned you, I will destroy those memories if you don't stop."
Sebastian let out a pathetic chuckle, burying his face deeper into his pillow, the fabric muffling his next words. "Oh, Ominis... That's not even half of it. There's... there's something else." He lifted his head, his voice barely a whisper, thick with shame.
"I... I've been giving her sleeping draughts. Without her knowing." His voice broke, raw with confession. "I... I slipped a potent one into her tea the other night; she fell asleep there in the Undercroft. I wanted to study the memories, and I knew she wouldn't let me." He paused, a painful lump in his throat. Even in his alcoholic haze, he doubted telling Ominis the rest.
"She's an angel, Ominis," he continued, a desperate plea in his voice. "She doesn't say anything, but her presence... It's so... grounding. I can't do it while she's there. Not with her watching. It's too... real. You already know the effect she has on me..." He let out a choked laugh, full of self-loathing. "After that, she started thinking the Undercroft is what makes her sleep better. So I told her it's my 'secret tea blend' that helps her sleep." He facepalmed himself harshly, the sickening thud echoing the blow he felt internally.
His voice dropped, raw with despair. "And then... then days later she told me she's been trying to stay away from them. The draughts. That they barely work anymore. She... she says she can stop drinking them anytime, but I think she has a dependency problem... Just like my own dependency on that bloody Pensieve and the Dark Arts." He took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes wide and honest. "I've been giving her more... just a couple more times, but only to give her some rest, I swear! I didn't cared for the pensive, I just watched her sleep… She looks so tired... she doesn't deserve to feel like that."
A tense silence descended, heavier than any physical weight. Ominis said nothing for a long moment, the air thick with his palpable shock and disbelief. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, sharp as ice, devoid of all amusement or sarcasm. "You... you what? Sebastian, have you completely lost your mind? You know she struggles with the draughts, and you... you gave her more? Without her knowledge? After everything she's already carrying? What in the blazes were you thinking?!"
Sebastian flinched, pulling his legs onto the bed, curling into a ball. "I wasn't thinking! I just... I saw how exhausted she was. How her nightmares were breaking her. I wanted to help! And I thought... I thought Rookwood’s draught would be good for her... Just for a night. And then... she said she slept well. And she was okay. I just... I wanted her to rest. I wanted her to be alright." His voice broke, raw with guilt. "I know. I messed up. I'm sorry."
Ominis was silent again, a deep, shuddering breath escaping him. The anger was still there, a simmering fury that vibrated in the air around him, but it was now laced with profound exhaustion and disappointment. "I am not the one you should be apologizing to," he finally whispered, the words heavy. He swung his legs out of bed, the rustle of his pajamas audible. He paced once, twice, a restless energy to his movements. "We will talk about this. At length. In the morning. When you are sober. And when I am... less inclined to use the Cruciatus Curse on my best friend." He found his way to his wardrobe, pulled out a thick blanket, and threw it roughly onto Sebastian's bed. "For now," Ominis said, his voice clipped, "you need sleep. And so do I. Try not to set fire to the dorm in your nightmares, Sallow."
Sebastian simply pulled the blanket over his head, the sudden comfort doing little to quell the storm in his mind. He was alone with his shame, his guilt, and the terrifying knowledge of what he had done. He could only hope that when morning came, Ominis wouldn't truly act on his threat.
