always hungry

None of it added up - Lucy’s amnesia, her fear of raising a damn wand, her mild temperament. They'd come back together, hadn't they? Sebastian was perfectly fine, so why wasn't she?

It was all far too bizarre to be some elaborate prank brought about by a mischievous girl.

But then, what was it?

And how was he expected to remedy anything if Lucy wasn't, well, Lucy?

Plagued by a spiral of problematic, tumultuous concerns regarding time travel leading to amnesia and personality alteration, Sebastian groaned as he found himself at a loss. Surely, there was a simple solution to be dug up - perhaps a visit to his old haunt, the Restricted Section, would be in order.

For purely academic pursuits, he would tell old Fig - the professor Sebastian ensured he endeared himself to over the past year in preparation for whatever mischief Lucy would get up to with him. After all, he wanted in on all the action he'd been forced to observe from the sidelines last time - too caught up in curse research to bother with any of his new friend's deadly, yet intriguing, pursuits.

Rotting away beneath the Library hadn't been on his agenda this time around, having envisioned far more whimsical adventures with a far less skittish Lucy, but he'd never been one to turn his nose up at an evening curled up with forbidden knowledge.

He'd rid her of her lost memories, or strange new personality - probably just needed a specific potion, perhaps a good knock to the head. As the one who knew her best, after all, Sebastian would sort her out.

Something still irked him, though. That uncharacteristic trepidation to cast so much as a shield - the way she flinched and smiled uncertainly. How she looked at him with an unfamiliar gaze with those emerald eyes that normally held such warmth for him and him alone.

Sebastian turned over on the sofa where'd he'd been stewing and sighed loudly, trying to shake her curious expression from his memory - he wanted to only know her bright laugh and blushing features, warmed from his presence, not this peculiar new girl he didn't quite know how to handle.

She looked the same - physical attributes all there as he mused over her pretty brown tresses and the familiar constellation of freckles dotting her nose and high cheekbones.

But still, she wasn't the same at all.

A hefty weight in his gut shoved the air from Sebastian's lungs and forced his eyes open as he gasped, hands instinctively wrapping around the leather satchel which had knocked the wind from him and ripped him violently from his musings. With an accusatory glare, he looked up at Anne through watering eyes as she mirrored his expression with a particularly withering scowl of her own.

Stood in the center of the Common Room and looking especially unimpressed, she arched a thin brow at her brother and asked, “Does this have anything to do with you bullying the new student?”

Sebastian, regaining his breath, sputtered and balked right back.

“Bullying her? I would never! What in the hell are you talking about? You heard Hecat pair us up - it wasn't like I-”

“Not the duel, you imbecile. Though, frankly, I was a touch nauseated by your display in class. Grabbing her so familiarly like that? Remind me to write Uncle and warn him of your sudden and horrific plunge into puberty. He ought to have a cold water bucket ready.” Anne said dryly, miming shoving a hand down her throat. “I mean, the poor thing was weeping in the lavatory with Oggspire, and your name was tossed about.”

Sebastian's jaw may as well have dropped uselessly to the floor for how he found himself incapable of closing his mouth. Neither could he grasp words at the moment, and it felt like he'd been hit by a train.

Weeping.

The word brought with it that seed of regret he thought he'd uprooted.

“Me?!” He found his voice at last and hurtled off the sofa to interrogate Anne. “I've barely said a handful of incredibly innocuous things to her. Why's she being dramatic? Because of a lost duel?”

Anne, always good for matching his temper, raised her voice right back. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to know? I'd probably blubber, too, if some creepy boy cozied up to me out of nowhere and then blasted me on my ass in front of a crowd.”

Lucy had little flair for the dramatic - a meticulous and genuine girl. He'd never known her to be a sore loser or someone to burst into tears over a minor slip-up.

Suspicions of an altered personality rose higher, however, and Sebastian wondered once more if she'd somehow been warped in the journey back through time.

Briefly, he wondered if perhaps a small facet of his own self had been lost along the way before brushing the theory aside.

One problem at a time.

“First of all, I'm not creepy.” He defended with an index finger rudely pointed at his twin, and Anne's scoff acknowledged that was undoubtedly the least of their concerns. “Secondly, I don't believe for a moment she's distraught over the duel. What else did you hear?”

“Not much - it's not like I wanted to stroll up to some bawling Gryffindor and get roped in - that terrifying tower climber she was with would likely have hexed me purely for being related to the bastard that made her housemate sad.” Anne said disdainfully but then perked up somewhat. “Ah! But that's what she said - she was sad.” 

On the one hand, his brotherly instinct told him to drag Anne by the scruff into the pungent passage for all her lip that morning - on the other, a buried and no-longer-needed sense of protective instinct flared up at the mention of anyone hexing her, and in the back of his mind, Sebastian idly considered greasing up Nellie's favored climbing spots for even making Anne uncomfortable.

Unnecessary, of course, but he'd burn the entire castle to ash to keep her from facing any suffering ever again.

A larger part also enjoyed the bickering and how normal things were - all fire and fury, as she should be.

“Sad.” Sebastian repeated after her blandly, handing back the hefty satchel of books she'd belligerently thrown into his diaphragm earlier.

“Yes, sad. That's all I know, though. I left soon after - you know how I am with criers.”

-

With Anne's incredibly descriptive and helpful advice, Sebastian stalked off toward Charms in significantly gloomier spirits.

While there were myriad words and phrases he'd heard used to describe himself - not all of them flattering - a boy who brings girls to tears was a newer one he did not take pride in. Honestly, it did not feel earned in the slightest. Sure, he'd been forward, but he'd also been pleasant. 

“Not like I groped her or something - a simple hug and a duel. She's out of her damn mind.” He reasoned, griping under his breath as he jostled through the crowded corridors.

The cheer of his fellow students irritated him. How dare they laugh like that, joking and carefree, when despite all his best efforts, he was still suffering?

On that note, Sebastian shuffled into Ronen's otherwise buzzing room and plopped into his rightful spot beside Ominis, who was already comfortably napping while the others still filed in.

Leave it to his perpetually exhausted companion to make himself a pillow out of a robe and a textbook in order to steal a bit of shut-eye before their next lesson. Ominis rested peacefully, deep in his dreams and wholly unaware of his surroundings. So content - like a damn angel.

Sebastian couldn't have that, though. Not when he was in a shit mood.

“Oi, get up.” He muttered darkly, kicking Ominis’s shin roughly with the toe of his shoe.

Ominis, ill-prepared for the assault on his unprotected leg, jolted awake with a startled yell, knocking his belongings to the floor, and immediately scowled after having divined that it was, indeed, his bastard of a best friend ruining his afternoon as always.

“You know, I really should take Anne up on her offer to hide a bundimun in your pillowcase. If we're lucky, it'll burn a hole through your blasted tongue.” He greeted dryly, begrudgingly bending down to scoop up and dust off his things.

“A bundimun? Might eat up all the dirt and filth he collects in that messy pig-sty he calls a bed.” Anne chimed in, settling into her own desk to their right. “Although, I'm certain even a beast that feeds on muck would have trouble stomaching the inevitable grease stains from that mop you call hair.”

For his part, Sebastian merely rolled his eyes and ignored them as the two ganged up on him, refocusing his efforts on willing Lucy to arrive to class.

All the while muttering together about what a prick Sebastian was being, said prick continued glowering across the room at the empty seat he knew she would select. The one right next to Natty.

He could recall it vividly, how Lucy arrived to Charms all breathless and windswept, relaxing as she found kinship with the other recent transfer. He'd thought it almost endearing at the time - the way they'd chattered on pleasantly over class, snatching that shared book back from each other.

Not this time, though.

No - he half expected Lucy to clam up again when faced with having to cast a spell when it came down to it. More than likely, something else would go awry, and he'd be left with another headache as he tried to comprehend what in the hell was wrong with the girl.

At least he had another plan to get back into her good graces. And it all started with the book he kept tucked in his hand, simply waiting for his time to shine.

For whatever reason, she'd seen fit to cry over something he'd done. Sebastian had lived with moody girls all his life, and he knew that sometimes it was in his best interest to smile and apologize, even offer a gift, rather than trying to understand the utter nonsense they seemed to thrive on. Whatever perceived slight he'd committed against Lucy could be righted with a bit of chivalry, something Sebastian knew he owned in spades.

The bell struck, and, sure enough, the seat next to Natty remained empty.

Then, frantic footfalls from the corridor, resounding gracelessly as their owner stumbled into the room, panting and sheepish as she glanced around, eyes trailing nervously over the watchful classroom filled with unfamiliar faces until they fell on her new seatmate. She breathed a visible sigh of relief and trotted up to take her place.

Which was where Sebastian entered the scene.

He'd already risen to his feet before she'd even burst through the door and swiftly crossed the room as Lucy settled into place, clearly thrilled to have made it in time before their professor arrived.

Sebastian bent down beside her, interrupting the friendly exchange of greetings between her and Natty, and smirked when she startled.

He slid his book in front of her on the desk with a widening grin when she glanced curiously from the book to Sebastian.

“Did I mention I'm quite good at Divination? My morning tea hinted that you'd be ill-prepared for class - it seems I was right, considering you've got no book. You can borrow mine - I've already learned its contents.” He quietly explained with a wink.

Lucy blushed, and Sebastian felt a proud thrill. 

That was hardly the reaction of a girl whose good graces he'd fallen from. Anne must have been imagining things.

Nevermind the faint red rim around her eyes.

“Oh my…” Natty buried her own giggle behind a hand at the display - not that Sebastian minded.

He hoped she had read into it. Everyone ought to.

Lucy grew ever more flustered, and murmured out a soft and uncertain, “Thank you…” 

Before Sebastian shrugged coolly and crossed back over to his chair, outwardly as casual as could be when the door to Ronen's office slid open and the chipper old man made his grand entrance - a performance Sebastian was, admittedly, delighted to witness once more.

Only adding to his rapidly improving mood, Sebastian very nearly cheered when Lucy both learned and executed her spell in front of the class with perfect form - as she damn well should.

That morning must have just been a fluke. He knew she was more than adept with a wand and had an uncanny knack for soaking up magical knowledge like a sponge. 

A more boastful voice within himself suggested that maybe, just maybe, even though she couldn't recall all her memories, she might still recall those very strong feelings she harbored for him. Lucy probably just instinctively couldn't stand the thought of raising her wand to him.

And with that incredibly accurate and likely theory, Sebastian made sure he clapped the loudest at the end of class when Lucy succeeded in winning her little impromptu game of charms.

She'd beamed in the face of victory yet, humble as always, graciously stammered out something about beginner's luck as Natty congratulated her housemate.

Sebastian watched from the sidelines as throngs of students scampered off the lawn, all shrieks and playful energy, while the excitement of the first day back to class settled over the castle like a blanket. Hanging back, he felt a pang of something equal parts warm and unpleasant as Lucy’s laugh, light as a bell, rang out clear and genuine over something Natty said to her.

He pushed it down.

Jealousy had no place when he had the upper hand, anyway.

Even if he was the one she was meant to be laughing like that with. Bright smile, charming her way into everyone’s good graces so effortlessly from the start… it wasn't a surprise she'd already endeared herself to her fellow Gryffindors, even if her personality felt a bit subdued in comparison to her normal fire.

What did it matter, though, when Sebastian would draw her back out to her former glory? She could fiddle bashfully with her skirt hem and shyly befriend the others all she liked in the interim, but he'd have her back by his side where she belonged soon enough. He could be patient and share her for the moment.

Just for the moment.

And with that thought, he briskly crossed the grassy distance to reach her, smoothly slipping between Natty and Lucy to give the latter a smile that would have sent Anne straight for a good place to vomit her breakfast.

“A fine performance, you two.” He greeted enthusiastically, mentally noting that Natty actually rolled her eyes at him.

He'd file that away for later when they faced off in the Crossed Wands…

“Mind if I borrow our newest Charms sensation?” He asked with a wink.

Despite Natty's withering sigh, she reluctantly agreed, “Come find me during lunch, Lucy. I'll tell you more about my old school.”

They watched as the Gryffindor slipped away, and Sebastian turned to face Lucy expectantly. His heart sank somewhat as her smile, while still in place, seemed far more guarded than it had with Natty.

“Thank you again for lending me your book earlier - it was much easier to follow along with Professor Ronen's lesson. Thanks in large part to your generosity.” Lucy said, carefully practiced manners firmly back in action as she delicately slipped the textbook from her satchel to hand back to him.

Not about to lose traction, however, Sebastian brushed his fingers against hers as he accepted it and plastered on an especially charming grin. Leaning in, he spoke lowly to exaggerate the point that he was telling her a small secret.

“Let's just say I know a kindred spirit when I meet one. A bit of polishing your wandwork, and I expect you'll be as adept in a duel as you were playing games with Onai earlier, hm?” He goaded slyly - after all, Lucy was never one to turn down the chance to improve herself.

Still, she paled once more - noticeably - at the word duel.

Shifting uncomfortably, one delicate hand tugging at her uniform sleeve to busy her nervous fingers, she replied, “O-oh, well… I think I'd be better off sticking to games and theories for now. Best not get ahead of myself, you know.”

That wouldn't do.

Something had clearly stolen her nerve, and Sebastian wasn't about to let it go. Some things needed a bit more finesse, though.

“Why not be a spectator then? I know somewhere you can watch the very best duelists in the school flaunt their talents. In fact, I'm just heading there now. Care to join me?” He prodded slyly, still speaking in a playful hush. 

For good measure, he added, “If you can keep a secret, that is. It's not exactly sanctioned by the school, if you will.”

And there it was - that spark of excitement shining through Lucy's uncertain expression. The intrigue of little trouble seemed enough to pique Lucy's curiosity in any timeline.

“And you think you can trust me?” She asked coyly, but her excitement was palpably growing.

He'd hooked her, unspoken insecurities be damned.

“I'll just knock you on your ass again otherwise.”

A bright laugh bubbled up from her, genuine and warm, and Sebastian caught the briefest glimpse of the Lucy he missed so terribly, a strange ache in his chest despite her cheer.

When those green eyes met his, filled with mischievous mirth, his breath hitched.

“I’m glad that’s over.”

“Alright, first step complete!” Leander announced, eagerly striking through the first item on their list with a flourish.

“You didn’t spit it out at all, did you? Not even once? It has to be completely intact for this to work.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Garreth waved his hand dismissively. “It’s been tucked away safe under my lip flap.” He prodded the little pocket by his molar with his tongue to find the fleshy little gum pocket alarmingly vacant. He glanced at Leander.

“You’ve swallowed it, haven’t you?”

One month later.

"Alright, now the first step is complete..." Leander announced with a lacklustre air, scratching out the already crossed-off item. "One mandrake leaf to be held in the mouth for an entire lunar cycle."

“I’m glad that’s over.”

“Please tell me you refrained from eating it this time.”

"It was a bit touch and go at times, but I got it,” Garreth prodded at the foliage safely tucked in his chops, “What’s next?”

"This one might be a little trickier, mate. We need a teaspoon of moisture from a place neither sunlight nor human feet have touched—" Leander glanced up to find Garreth with his ingredient’s satchel unfurled, bequeathing to him a vial of clear liquid.

"I've got a couple bottles of that."

"What... how did... Where did this come from?!"

"I sent the new fifth year to the Mariana Trench."

"You did what?"

"I know," Garreth laughed, "They can source literally any ingredient, it's quite something."

"Give me that,” Leander poured a measured amount into their cauldrons, Garreth dropped in the pupa of a death's-head hawkmoth and they both spat in their mandrake leaves. "Now, we need to let it rest in a dark, quiet place until the next electrical storm."

“Somewhere dim and dreary?”

“Exactly.”

“I know just the spot.”

A crack of lightning split the sky, illuminating the jars of curiosities that lined Professor Sharp's office on a gloomy evening shortly thereafter.

Garreth and Leander stood side by side, their completed Animagus potion churning blood-red in the vials—a confirmation that their gruelling enterprise had paid off.

The potion was ready, and so were they.

“What form do you think you’ll take?”

"A lion," Garreth declared with certainty, sweeping a lock of his unruly mane from his eyes, "Obviously."

“Maybe we should do this outside then. Black might kadavra you on sight if he sees—"

Not one to exercise caution when potions were in play, Garreth dug his nail into the stopper, popped off the cork, and chugged the crimson concoction. It pulsed on his tongue like a living organism, and the metallic tang of blood made him shudder.

Garreth’s fingertips crackled with static electricity that branched up his arms. He clenched his fists as the tingling turned hot, his skin becoming dry and prickly like he was standing too close to a fire. His bones grated together as they reformed, muscles stretching painfully into positions they’d never been forced into. His shoulders hunched forward as his vertebra shifted, and his spine lengthened until it protruded from his butt.

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced—and it was lasting f o r e v e r.

Leander blinked, and Garreth had transformed.

“Funny looking lion,” quipped Leander.

The funny-looking lion glanced down to find that his hands were still hands, although his fingers were slender and dark, tipped with tiny, nimble claws.

His perspective was low to the ground now, and everything was magnified. He could detect the slightest rustle of parchment and the formerly imperceptible insects scurrying in and out of the cracks in the castle wall with alarming clarity.

He tried to speak, but his vocal cords reformed the inquiry about his appearance into a series of high-pitched chitters and clicks.

He wobbled onto all fours with only a very slight disorientating edge to his clarity.

His little hand-feet thundered into motion, and with his heart in his tiny mouth, he scampered around the crooked wooden stools and raced out the classroom door. The world flooded his senses; there was an all-consuming abundance of stimuli, and it kept coming. The castle shifted around him as he ran, with no coherent narrative except for his panting breaths and the passing shrieks of his classmates.

His senses were on high alert, his nose picking up the sweaty scent of teenagers blending with whiffs of burning candles. But above all, an exquisite aroma had entranced him—something so inviting that it made his new-fangled whiskers twitch and his shrunken stomach growl.

He roly-polied towards the smell, his sniffer leading him to the dungeon, where he found the source: a discarded bag of trash.

Garreth's little grabby hands worked efficiently to rip it open and rummage through the contents with gleeful abandon. There were scraps of meat, a crust of bread, and even a half-eaten apple! It was delectable, a gourmet feast of the highest quality. He chittered happily as he munched on the unexpected banquet.

"My wand's picking up something alive in that bin," an uppity voice rudely interrupted Garreth's me time.

"You mean an animal?"

"I think so, maybe a cats got trapped.”

An obnoxious, blinking red flare speared straight into Garreth’s feast, and he chirruped angrily at the culprit.

A moment later, Gaunt and Sallow's dishevelled heads peered in. “There’s a bandit in the bin.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Or maybe a panda?”

"Sebastian, a panda wouldn't fit in a trash bag.”

"I don't know, did you not hear about the peacock strutting around in the potions classroom?" Sebastian brushed aside some debris to get a clearer view. "Looks like some kind of trash panda... I think I'll keep him."

"Sebastian, don't touch it. You have no idea where it's been."

“I'm name him Trash.”

Garreth was fished from the gorgeous garbage, his tiny limbs splayed wide as if he were lifted and transcending past his earthly bounds. Sebastian presented him unceremoniously to the audience that had assembled behind him.

“Oh wow, a racoon!” Poppy squealed with glee.

Duncan Hobhouse took one look and promptly fainted.

“HA! I love trash,” Ominis said, extending a bony hand toward Garreth.

Garreth, who didn’t want to be a cute little plaything in the Slytherboys' tug-of-war like the new student, decided it was time to reclaim his identity as a wizard.

He imagined his body, and his skin, bones and muscles began to realign, his pupils adjusting and growing to match his returning human perspective.

The blurred sconces sharpened back to clarity, and he felt the weight of his form settle back into place.

“Oh shit,” Sebastian said. “Garreth is trash.”

Ominis, tense as he'd ever been, gripped his wife's hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze under the table, his finger resuming its fidgeting with her wedding ring.

How his vibrant, gentle bride hailed from a home bathed in pure desolation baffled him, and he could now experience for himself why she was so very eager to throw herself into an arranged marriage to escape. Hell, he wanted to flee, and they'd only sat down to dinner with her wretched parents five minutes ago.

While she'd warned him for weeks leading up to the ordeal that they should decline the invitation, Ominis assured her it would be alright.

Selfish, on his part, because he wanted to attend purely to get a feel for her roots and upbringing. They were planning a family of their own, after all, and it only made sense that he had some grasp of his in-laws beyond the sparse interaction they'd had at their wedding.

Her mother he hadn't spoken with, but her father... Ominis could still recall the man's icy fingers barely ghosting his hand in paltry greeting as he'd handed off his only child at the altar. There'd been no tearful words, no goodbyes spoken, no fatherly embrace.

Just a business transaction, followed by not so much as a written exchange afterward to see how she'd settled into life as a Gaunt.

He should have left it at that.

Unfortunately, his wife's boundless generosity and optimism rubbed off on him in the worst way, and in a moment of misplaced sentimentality after they'd begun tracking her ovulation with intent, Ominis felt some innate desire to meet his extended family properly.

His own parents were out of the question as far as doting grandparents were concerned, but surely the people who raised a woman who possessed such tender warmth weren't complete monsters. Despite the fact he should have trusted his wife and respected her weak-willed attempts to sway him against the idea, Ominis still forged ahead with sending that fateful letter to her father with a request for Sunday supper.

The atmosphere in her family estate proved suffocating from the moment they'd crossed the threshold. Perhaps it was the way she instinctively clutched tighter to his arm when the house elf squeaked out a greeting and beckoned them in, but he swore it felt ten degrees cooler already - like he'd passed through a ghost.

His initial anxieties had been superficial and misplaced in hindsight. Worries over whether her mother would ask why they hadn't had any children yet, and concern over her father somehow discovering his prior ill-treatment of his little girl.

There were no such questions, however.

There was no conversation to be had at all.

She'd greeted her parents with a politeness so well-practiced Ominis went rigid at his wife's oddly strained tone, like a cowering whelp. She did not greet them by affectionate, familial terms - she used Master and Mistress followed by their surname. In turn, he felt inclined to be equally meek-mannered, wondering if perhaps they were simply subdued.

Her uncanny grace in the face of pressure was swiftly explained, however, when both her parents ignored them almost entirely, simply offering an indifferent welcome before sweeping out of the parlor toward the dining room, the sullen house elf beckoning them along.

Cavernous rooms, silent save for their echoing footsteps, provided little warmth as they made their way through the mansion. Everything about the atmosphere was just so… cold.

Detached and haunted.

So very unlike his wife, whose laugh and touch warmed him to his core.

Dread took root in his chest, and Ominis withdrew his arm from his bride's talon-grasp to drape it protectively around her shoulders, both to shelter her from the chill, and to pull her closer as they walked.

After all, he'd sworn never to let her feel the same solitude he'd subjected her to all those years ever again.

Familiar indigestion brought about by discomfort had Ominis queasy before the meal even arrived at the table. Pulling out a chair for his wife, he took the seat next to her and immediately grabbed her hand.

The chairs, stiff and high-backed, made him feel like even more of an outsider. He was very pleased not to be able to witness the undoubtedly draconian and foreboding interior of their home. The shivering woman next to him, too - her fear was palpable, and he knew seeing that especially would have broken him.

Part of him screamed to try and ease the tension - discuss his wife's increasingly successful apothecary or their intentions for children in the near future. He wished, for once, that he had Sebastian's silver tongue and that life-saving ability to diffuse any situation.

But, he remained silent, letting his wife's silent demeanor guide his actions. He knew when to keep his mouth shut - when there was danger.

He was simultaneously grateful and mortified when the wine arrived. A rich, fine red, he recognized as the smell hit his nose.

Not everyone agreed, however, and he nearly choked on his very first sip of the damn drink when a sharp, feminine voice cut through the room - not his wife nor her mother.

Someone else - a fifth to their stifling dinner party, at the opposite head of the table, where the wife of a proper, regal home was supposed to be seated.

“I see your wife still has poor taste in wine, darling.”

That was how Ominis learned that his father-in-law did indeed have a live-in mistress.

-

The icy tension of the evening melted away in the sunny atmosphere of their own comfortable home once they'd returned shortly after that scandalous revelation.

While Ominis had been aghast by the idea someone would so brazenly have an affair or an affair at all, his wife seemed unfazed. In fact, her interactions with the woman proved surprisingly combative considering her normally docile nature.

She'd gotten so argumentative that she had been the one to cut dinner short and ultimately storm out, prior meek demeanor vanishing as she tugged him free from the confines of her family home and swiftly out the door.

“Bitter, miserable, loathsome bitch.” She muttered angrily, shrugging off her shawl and assisting Ominis with his cloak as they entered the comfort of their home.

He froze and balked, unaccustomed to hearing her curse, let alone so vibrantly, before crumbling into laughter, the tension of the evening vanishing rapidly as she joined him.

“She really is, isn't she?” He agreed, chuckling as she leaned against him amidst her own fit of giggles.

Merlin, he loved his wife so dearly. Every little moment with her was magic, a new facet to her personality he had the immense privilege of discovering. The witch he'd married never ceased to bring him a sense of wonder.

While she melted into him, laughing comfortably, he couldn't resist combing his fingers through her hair fondly. Soft and fragrant like the rest of her, there was not a single bit of her body he didn't constantly fawn over.

He kissed the top of her head and apologized when their laughter eventually died down. “I am terribly sorry for insisting we attend that dinner - truly. You were right, darling.”

She sighed and shifted against him, taking his face in her hands to look at him. Ominis expected she'd likely be stern with him now - as guilty as he felt for pressuring her, he enjoyed this, too. Hearing her stand up for herself and not simply bend to his whim had been a long-suffered battle, but she was getting there day by day.

“I most certainly was.” She said, adamant, though there was a still a smile to her tone. “And now that you've endured a meal with them, I expect you'll not be asking for our children to meet their grandparents?”

“What grandparents?” He asked, feigning innocence, and she scoffed in reply.

They may as well not exist - for the sparse few details she shared regarding her upbringing, coupled with the dinner from hell they'd just endured, Ominis was well and truly convinced that neither one of them had parents to speak of.

Ominis took hold of one of her slender hands and turned his head to gently kiss the inside of her wrist, eliciting a satisfying little gasp from her lips, and he knew her disapproval melted immediately. While he enjoyed her new spine, he still wasn't above manipulating his way back into her good graces by way of flirtation.

“Well, I suppose we need to actually have children first before we worry about such things, hm?” She asked, voice a sweet suggestion toward where her thoughts now veered.

Ominis arched a brow, keenly interested in how quickly she caved and said precisely what he wanted to hear. Not that he was complaining - after all, he'd planned to make up the evening to her with a rather extended night of stress-relief anyway.

Already growing heated by the mere thought of taking her to bed, the breathy mewls of his name he never grew bored of hearing each and every night a beautiful memory he was impatient to create once more.

“I can think of a way to remedy that if my foul-mouthed bride would like to join me upstairs?” Ominis asked, lips still trailing a slow, easy path up her wrist, his other hand ventured to hook around her waist.

“Always.”

-

How very easy she was to coax into bed - coax being a bit too strong of a descriptor considering Ominis was very much certain he could simply think the word sex and his wife would drag him under the soft linen covers. While there was never a doubt in his mind that he could enjoy delving into the pleasures of her body anytime he pleased, he knew that somewhere deep inside her there still lingered a small fear that he would reject her.

That made it all the more pressing of a matter for him to dote on her each and every night since their reconciliation - to remind and assure her that he very much desired everything about her.

It wasn't an act or mere remorse - Ominis found himself shamelessly enthralled by her. Her lofty voice, how responsive her perfect body was to every touch, and the way she was equally eager to give as she was to receive.

Their time together in the marital bed was a blessing, every night an exploration into how he could unravel her and build her back up to be even more vocal - even more confident and secure in what they shared.

Tonight, especially, Ominis was going to take his time with her. There was never any rush - it wasn't a race to be satisfied, but he had a distinct sense that this would be an evening that produced more than beautiful sounds from her lips.

They were finally going to fill that damn nursery.

She'd spent weeks already painting and repainting the walls and fussing over color schemes and all manner of darling things. As for his own part, while Ominis wasn't much help when it came to selecting between varying shades of pastels, he'd taken up a rather peculiar new hobby - knitting.

Not willing to allow her to do all the frivolous preparations for their unplanted seed, he busied himself with crafting everything from small bonnets to full blankets while she painted and decorated.

A craft he was reminded of briefly when she tugged him into bed and something offensively sharp and very much not her familiar and loving caress jabbed into his ass cheek.

“Damn knitting needle.” He hissed out, rubbing his thigh where the rude object stabbed him.

Picking it up, Ominis was sorely tempted to chuck it across the room, but he knew better by now than to react to anything in brash anger when she was around - the worst sin he could ever commit would be to show her something as unbecoming as a petulant temper. That was her old husband - the one who refused meals with her and gave her so much anxiety that she needed to be medicated.

Who he was now, however, did not toss objects out of frustration or curse loudly. For her, Ominis softened himself even further and ensured she would only ever find him to be a man worthy of the constant outpouring of devotion she showered him with.

So, huffing out a light sigh amidst her giggles, he delicately placed the errant needle on their nightstand and willed away the dull throb in his upper thigh - a task made far easier when her hands busied themselves with gently massaging over his bruised flesh, the tantalizing heat of her body seeping through the tightening fabric of his slacks.

Lips, plush and doting, caressed the side of his throat while she soothed away the lingering sting.

The bed creaked and sunk down as she climbed into it with him, bringing her hand up from his thigh to the clasp of his belt, the other wrapping around his shoulder in a half-embrace.

She smelled incredible - all smoke and floral and herb. It was one of his favorite things about her, the way the aroma of her trade clung heavy to her even when she hadn't been working. Intoxicating as she was, Ominis felt himself grow drunk on her radiating heat and closeness, his body anticipating the feel of his beloved already.

“Let me kiss that better, love.” The words spoken coyly by his ear with a light nip to his lobe brought a delicious shudder down his spine, and Ominis nodded mutely, bringing his hands to cup around her head and tangle in her curled tresses.

He pulled her close, tilting her head and finding her lips with his own immediately. Ominis was starved for her - always hungry for anything she could spare him. A sharp exhale through his nose and a deep inhale so he could breathe in the smell and taste of her. His tongue slipped through her lips, already eagerly parted and sighing, so he could reclaim her mouth properly - the wine from dinner still lingered there, a deep berry flavor which suited her.

A slight wave of guilt hit him as he now recognized raspberry in the undertones of the long-since-gone drink. Her favorite fruit - her mother had chosen the wine. Perhaps a coincidence, or maybe a small gesture of motherly affection for the daughter she sold, just to wordlessly let her know she remembered something about her.

Such a sad existence - an arranged marriage to a man who harbored a mistress in their shared manor, a daughter she couldn't afford to show care for...

Sobering as the realization was, however, his needy wife sensed his distraction and saw fit to drag him back into the moment with her.

By pulling away from their heated kiss to let her mouth wander down his chin, pressing against his jawline while she ventured lower.

His neck once more, teeth grazing gently over his pulse before her tongue lathed over the spot, then sucking more insistently on the skin just at his nape.

He groaned, tipping his head to the side to spur her on, giving her a broader canvas of his flesh to lick and tease.

While he enjoyed worshipping her, as any man married to a literal goddess would, Ominis equally enjoyed the way she lavished attention on his body all the same. Knowing firsthand her boundless love for him made it all the sweeter for her to get her fill. He'd get his when she was through - he was a patient man, if nothing else.

“I love you…” She murmured against his wetted throat, her fingers working their way down his shirt buttons.

Ominis's fingers tugged just slightly in her hair, his chest tightening at his wife's gentle declaration before he repeated it back, fervent and soft, with a kiss to the top of her head.

Even in bed, she made his heart ache with an overwhelming desire to give her the world, the act of lovemaking always a physical manifestation of his increasing desire to meet her needs and fulfill her any way he could. The first time he'd taken her on their wedding night, and those sparse few evenings before he let himself truly love her felt lewd to the point of disrespect.

This, however - when they went to bed each night, he often thought the reverence they showed each other was akin to how the Muggles viewed religion - but even that didn't do the love he felt for her justice.

The glorious witch pressed against him was so much more than anything he'd ever known, and their union something sacred.

And Merlin, he could have said a prayer to her when his shirt, opened fully at last, shrugged off his shoulders, and her hands deftly moved to unfasten his pants.

He helped her with that task because, while Ominis may not have been in a hurry, his patience was still only that of a mortal man, and he needed to feel her skin against his.

That, and his erection for her threatened to split the seams of his pants if they didn't free it soon.

“Patience, my love. You know I'll never leave you wanting.” She cooed, a smile in her voice as she settled on the bed properly, kneeling between his legs once they'd shucked off the rest of his clothes.

“I know.” Came his shuddering reply, hips twitching forward, instantly seeking her warmth, the moment he was sprung free and she'd settled into place, her lips trailing feather-light across his thighs and the apex where they met his hips.

The warm puffs of air on his member as she ventured nearer and chuckled brought a fond smile to his lips, and Ominis knew he must be quite the sight for his darling wife. He could feel the flush creeping up from his chest all the way to the tips of his ears - somehow, she was so sensual in her presence alone that he found his arousal for her near-maddening.

She didn't mind, though, and he breathed a sigh of relief when her tongue flicked out and tasted the tip of his throbbing member - warm and wet and so unbelievably tempting.

He groaned, letting his head fall back, his hands carding through her soft tresses in appreciation as she gave him a few more testing laps before finally, finally taking him into her mouth.

Inwardly, Ominis cursed himself for depriving them both of intimacy for so many years before this - her tongue's skill alone was enough to unravel him from a few gentle bobs of her head, swirling the velvety muscle around to all but devour the arousal he felt only for her. She was slow in her movements - meticulous and steady, as a good apothecary ought to be.

He rewarded her for a particularly daring dip, the head of his cock entering her throat, with a gutteral moan of her name.

“My love, gods, please - you're going to make our evening end early like this.” He praised his dear wife breathlessly, brushing his fingers appreciatively through her hair to bundle it up and out of her way while she diligently carried on with her task.

When she giggled in response, the soft sound vibrating through his most sensitive appendage, his grip on her hair tightened just slightly, and he tugged, insistent.

While Ominis mourned the loss of her warmth, the chill of the room enveloping where her mouth had once been, he wanted her.

They both whimpered reluctantly as his stiff length fell from her plush lips and back to rest against his taut stomach, pulsing with need.

“I can always brew you up that one potion from last time, love.” His wife pouted, sliding up his body to pepper doting kisses along his chest and neck while she made her ascent. “That way, you can finish quite a few times - no need to be so stingy. I wouldn't mind a taste before we set to the real task at hand…”

He involuntarily shivered at the mention of her devious little brew - the one she'd concocted just for the week-long holiday they'd taken to get properly reacquainted with one another only a few months ago. While the literal marathon both their bodies endured thanks to her cheeky little invention was unfathomably glorious, he would prefer the conception of their first child to be quality over quantity.

The resulting dehydration and body aches were well worth the reward, but considering his intention was to impregnate her tonight, he wasn't prepared to waste a drop.

“Loathe as I am to turn down that generous offer, how about you allow me to focus on giving you that child we've been preparing so desperately for, hm?” He proposed softly, tugging her encouragingly the rest of the way to meet his lips in a slow kiss heated their shared desire for even closer proximity.

She hummed into his mouth, melting against his body, and Ominis let his fingers slide down through her hair to the collar of her dress, gently dipping his fingers below the neckline and nudging the fabric away to feel more of her skin.

Her dress was shed swiftly, leaving her in little more than a thin, strappy slip, his hands gliding over the silk.

Everything about her was far more intoxicating than any wine or potion - from the smokey, herbal aroma that clung to her like a perfume to the way she always tasted like sweet summer berries. The sounds that left her lips, delicate and airy as they hit his ears, only served to drive him further into barely restrained urgency to feel her properly, as one was meant to have their bride.

Ominis could hardly blame himself for being wholly incapable of slowing down when, as the top of her slip fell from her shoulders and she shimmied out of it, and she pressed her breasts against his chest, grinding her heat over his aching arousal, he flipped her onto her back in a rare show of dominance.

She yelped, startled yet thrilled by the display while she let him pin her, his weight nesting over her frame and pushing her into the mattress.

“I wanted to take you slow, love.” He chided, voice low in her ear.

His hands gripped her hips, claiming but not bruising, while she adjusted herself to accommodate the new position.

Mouthing down her collarbone, he ventured southward and took the rosy peak of one breast between his lips, gentle and teasing until it grew stiff with want, before moving to the other to do much the same.

Her chest heaved under his touch, breathy little exhales through her nose while she squirmed, eager, beneath her spouse. She arched her back as much as his body allowed, meeting his hips with each thrust as he ground impatiently against her. The tip of his cock slid across her drenched lace undergarment, pressing insistently and riling her.

She was ready for him, and they both knew it - Ominis wasn't one to tease his wife for longer than necessary, much preferring bringing her to pleasure than denying it.

“Please, darling -” She gasped out when his length slipped in through the side of that wet fabric to brush against her slick, swollen lips.

Burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, Ominis sucked the sensitive skin there, nodding his understanding while he shifted his hands from her hips - one to the back of her neck to pull her in for a deep, wanting kiss, and the other to that exquisite little spot between her legs that made her mewl.

He carried on rutting languidly against her, the friction providing just enough stimulation to his straining hardness to stave off madness, while he let two fingers rub gentle circles across the wet lace over her clit, earning a soft, muffled curse from her as he found the source of her pleasure so ruthlessly fast.

“Language.” He nipped her lower lip playfully and then pressed a bit harder to turn her would-be retort into a strangled gasp of his name.

Ominis smirked and renewed their heated kiss, swallowing each one of her pleasured whimpers while he brought her to the edge and then crashing over it with just those fingers.

Always so responsive to his touch - she fell apart so easily for him, delicate thing that she was.

Merlin, he loved it - loved her.

“Like you were made for me, love.” He praised quietly, preferring to hear her soft sounds than his own voice, slowing his hand while she tensed and relaxed, her orgasm waning gently.

“I was.” She panted out, adamant, and in that moment, Ominis firmly believed that the heart thrumming beneath her ribcage truly did beat just for him, as his did for her.

All her dedication and love through the years - her perseverance to earn his favor and affection, her tireless doting… he would never be able to repay it all, but he'd do his damn best to drink up every moment they shared together like a man parched.

And parched he was, as Ominis was satisfied that she was sufficiently ready to receive him, and deftly hooked his fingers through the sides of her panties to rid her of the ruined lace article.

Then, he paused.

Thumb brushing over the fabric just along the curve of her thigh, there was something different about the lace pattern there…

Braille.

Her swiped his finger along it again, brow creased in concentration as he attempted to focus on reading rather than the very pressing and distracting matter of the gorgeous, keening woman he intended to fill with every last ounce of himself.

“Is that… my name?” He murmured aloud, yet the thread embroidered there undoubtedly spelled the letters he was all too familiar with.

“Well, I do belong to you. Body, soul, heart - not to get too poetic. All your knitting inspired me to add a bit of my beloved husband to some of my more intimate garments.” She said, gently playful as she rolled her hips slightly so that he could feel it easier - and feel a bit of something else as well to remind him of his very welcome duties.

His name.

Belonged to him.

His imagination ran wild, picturing how she might have looked sitting on their bed, meticulously stitching his name in braille to her clothing so that he could read it.

It was simultaneously the sweetest and most alluring gesture he could have fathomed.

With that, all bets were off, and Ominis could no longer fool himself into thinking he would be capable of taking her slowly.

Who needed a bloody potion when he was never going to be satisfied even if he kept her in bed the rest of both their lives?

With a swift movement, earning yet another surprised yelp from his sweet wife who'd been just peacefully basking in the afterglow of her first orgasm beneath him, he hoisted her legs up over his shoulder and, a bit rougher than intended for such delicate clothes, all but ripped them down her legs and tossed them onto the floor.

Before slipping one leg onto his other shoulder and delving his head between her thighs, ravenous as he plunged his tongue between her folds to properly taste her without warning.

“W-what -”

She wailed out his name the moment his mouth began to suck and lap. Nose pressed against the swollen bundle of nerves he'd already teased to pleasure, he inhaled her heady scent of arousal and groaned, his tongue dipping into her tight heat greedily.

She was divine.

And she was his.

Her fingers fisted into his hair, nails scraping lightly across his scalp while he simply dove deeper into her core, tongue dragging along her fluttering walls while she dripped pure desire down his chin. His hands kept a firm grip on her thighs, encouraging her to clench them tighter around him. Fingertips digging into the plush, smooth skin of her legs, he ground against the bed while his wife ground against his mouth.

As her mewls evolved into senseless babble, he knew her climax was cresting once more and redoubled his efforts - needed to taste her properly as she came for him and him alone.

She was his - this was his, and he'd be a fool not to savor her.

Then, as she gasped out his name once more, choked and desperate, he moaned right along with her release, his cockhead leaking onto the bedsheets in sheer agony while it waited impatiently to be nestled within the tight embrace of her heat where his tongue still occupied the space.

Another long, slow swipe of his tongue along her folds as he withdrew it had her stuttering his name once more, a weak puddle of limbs at his mercy.

He kissed her thighs tenderly, the sheer desperation to bury himself within her core such a stark contrast to his poor wife trying to regain some semblance of lucidity.

Somehow, Ominis managed to grasp a shred of manners after he'd finished kissing along her inner legs, resting them off his shoulders and back onto the bed.

He dutifully crawled back up to hover over her spent form and peppered her face with affectionate kisses while he checked in on her.

“Too much? Or may I continue having my way with you, dear?” He asked with a chuckle, listening to her labored, whimpering breaths.

She nodded weakly, hooking her shaking legs around his waist. Ominis exhaled sharply, his eager length pressed tantalizingly against her center from the act.

“I love you.” He murmured, kissing just below her ear and waiting until she said it back before slowly easing the tip between her folds.

“You take me so well, my love - so good.” He praised, littering her throat with kissing and inching into her.

Truly, she did - constricting his cock with every shallow thrust, she was so wet and needy for him that her core all but demanded more, her legs hooking tighter around him in a bid to pull him closer until he laid atop her and fully seated himself within her inviting walls.

Ominis took a moment to revel in the sensations and near-overwhelming waves of adoration his life brought to him, especially in moments like these where their unshakeably devoted union could be made a tangible thing. One arm firmly behind her head to keep her lips licked to his, his other hand ventured down to lace through her fingers.

One more utterance of his love for her, and he began to thrust into her at a steady pace.

Slow and passionate, he pumped himself halfway out before pushing back into her inviting heat, keeping close as possible to her while he did his best to make the boundless love he felt for the woman in his arms palpable. Her fingers trailed down his shoulders, touching and caressing him gently while he made love to her, every little touch a sensational pleasure.

“Say my name again, won't you?” He pulled back slightly to pleading against her lips, his voice a hoarse and tender thing he hardly recognized now. “I love hearing my name in your voice - don't let yourself be quiet, love.”

She complied immediately.

“Ominis… I love you. Please -” Broken, airy cries fled her swollen lips, the sound of his name more beautiful than anything he'd ever heard, and he picked up speed, driving deeply into her with a bit more intention behind each roll of his hips.

Pleasure mounting at the base of his spine with each wanton moan in her voice, Ominis adjusted his angle just slightly, lifting them off the bed enough that his throbbing cock shamelessly dragged along that one scream-inducing spot he'd discovered along her walls.

And sure enough, she screamed his name, and the sound was just as incredible as her soft whispers, and more than enough to have him tumbling over the edge with her.

With a grunt and a cry of her name, his own pleasure exploded within her, painting the walls of her womb with his release as she clenched tightly, milking him dry.

Ominis ground into her, balls coated in her slick as he ensured his seed took root deep within and gave a few more shallow thrusts to push every drop in.

Panting, he remained firmly inside her, desperate to keep his come from spilling out just yet, as he claimed her mouth in a searing, grateful kiss. This was his beloved wife, and soon to be the mother of their first-born if he'd done his job properly.

She mustered the strength to return his passion, keeping her legs locked around him as he collapsed onto her, both of like mind that he ought to remain in place for some time.

Remain he did, as they spent the better part of that evening in bed together, whispering soft words of affection, sharing gentle caresses, and then picking back up again so that he could fill his wife as many times as she was able to recieve him until they fell asleep together there, him still inside her.

Their efforts and resulting soreness paid off in spades when, not long after, they were blessed with an incredibly swift pregnancy. Morning sickness proved simple enough to manage, as did her fatigue - being an apothecary had its perks after all, and she was able to cure many of her own discomforts without need for a Healer.

Ominis, a worried wreck through the ordeal despite her insistence that she was having a rather easy go of it, all but demanded she let her apprentice take over the shop by the third trimester so she could remain home and under his watch.

Which was how their daughter came to be, healthy, plump, and cooing happily in her crib under the blanket Ominis knitted for her.

Never in his life had he wanted to see something, or someone, so desperately, but as they hovered above her crib, Ominis’s wife softly describing their daughter to him in detail, as she did every night, while she guided his hand over each part of the infant, he'd also never been more in love - with his wife, with their daughter, and with the life they'd built together.

Their despicable parents had each sent insincere congratulations on the successful, albeit late, pureblood product of their arranged union - letters which they'd promptly burned in the fireplace.

It was curious how things worked - what began as utter hell for the couple was now a life neither could fathom being without.

They both deserved it, after everything, and Ominis felt his chest clench with a deep need to ensure the happiness of the two loves he held so dear.

“Already six months old… It’s funny, you know - I thought it melodramatic to hear my colleagues speak about their children, but I truly would burn the world down for her.” Ominis mused when they finished tucking her in.

“At least she’ll never have to worry about things like arranged marriages and parents who can't even have a civil dinner together.” She answered wryly.

Ominis wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and tugged her closer, pressing a warm kiss to her temple. “True, she'll need to be much more concerned that we can't keep our hands off each other. That said, I'm certainly not complaining about our arrangement.”

He could feel her cheeks heat and desire coiled within him, his body already coaxing her out of the nursery toward their room.

“I think she's due for a sister.” He suggested coyly, and his wife voiced absolutely no complaints.

One year passed, then several more months, but still not so much as a whisper from Lucy. At first, Sebastian chalked her absence up to little more than getting swept up in the moment - after all, how many could boast that they'd been given a redo of such a pivotal moment in their lives?

More than likely, she was simply enjoying re-living lost and precious moments with her family and friends, just as he was.

But as the weeks stretched into months without a single owl from her, Sebastian felt a sinking sort of dread settle into the pit of his stomach. As elated as he'd been those first few days, he found himself incapable of shaking the increasingly nagging sensation that something was very, very wrong.

Every night, he saw that haunting, vivid blue of Lucy's magic, her parting words still ringing in his ears like an omen.

While Sebastian's intent had been to mull over her final declaration for a while, maybe take her on a few dates, and really delve into that particular aspect of their companionship first, he wanted to at least acknowledge her sentiment - and his genuine desire to return it. 

What he felt for Lucy grew more complex by the hour now that he was finally free to expend actual thought to the matter. Anne was free of her burden, and Sebastisn had enjoyed the summer with both her and Ominis, which he'd previously lost out on.

Now, however, an unintended piece of the puzzle was still missing.

Lucy.

Every time he'd toss out a witty remark toward Ominis, Sebastian found himself looking for Lucy and straining his ears for her familiar musical laughter, goading him on. Or when he and Anne would practice their spellwork in the evenings, away from the watchful gaze of their hovering uncle, he'd look excitedly over his shoulder to hear her praises for a well-placed jinx and find thin air.

Lucy, it seemed, held far more weight in his life than Sebastian initially gave her credit for - he knew, of course, that she was an unquestionable friend to him, but he'd never taken stock of just how present she'd been in his day-to-day. 

Or how much he'd come to rely on her.

So much more than merely being useful, Lucy somehow managed to worm her way into his life in such a vital way that it was only with her disappearance that Sebastian truly felt the impact she'd made. A constant support, a clever dueling partner, genuinely fun company - there were only two people Sebastian ever really allowed himself to fully show his vulnerability around, or so he thought. Lucy, inexplicably and unbeknownst to him, had long since earned her spot amongst the ranks of people he treasured.

He had no way of finding her, though, and that seed of regret sprouted further still within him as his days without her carried on. 

If only he'd have taken the time to simply ask about her life, rather than politely glossing over the sparse few details she deigned to share with him during their tense treks across the highlands. Maybe if he'd shown any interest in her personal life beyond what she could offer him, he'd have the bare minimum knowledge of how to contact the damn girl. For all he knew, she was in some Muggle backwater without access to owls. 

But he'd been so single-mindedly focused on his goal that he never once considered using some of that boundless curiosity he'd been cursed with for learning about the one person who'd given him absolutely everything.

He'd do better this time.

A better brother to Anne, a better friend to Ominis, and better all around for Lucy.

Accomplishing the first two proved relatively painless. Neither his sister nor his oldest friend knew the crimes he'd once committed in another lifetime - and they would never. Days spent lounging in Feldcroft, wasting away scorching summers by the stream and chatting about mundane, frivolous subjects like theorizing about Sharp's scars - everything was as it should have been from the start, and SebastIan allowed the new sense of normalcy to lull him far away from the horrors he'd once faced without them.

Anne's agonized screams no longer plagued the cottage, his uncle didn't pick a damn fight every other hour, and Ominis still regarded him like a brother.

Nightmares came and went, of course, but even those lessened with each dawn he faced, knowing Anne was there to torment him and Ominis. 

Even Solomon, miserable bastard that he was, felt soft and tolerable in comparison to the weary old man who suffered through a dying niece and belligerent nephew. While their familial relationship was far from loving, Sebastian enjoyed no longer having to walk on the same eggshells as before.

As that first summer came and went, followed by their fourth year, Sebastian felt whole for the first time in what felt like an eternity of stagnation. Seeing Anne experience all that she had missed in the time she was bedridden, watching firsthand as she enjoyed a second chance at the life she deserved, he felt his worry lessen drastically. It also didn't hurt that he got to repeat the year he'd spent dotting his record with endless detentions in his determination to spend every waking moment in the Restricted Section.

This was Sebastian’s second chance as well, after all, and he intended to milk it dry for everything he could - more focus on spellwork that he'd wiled away brooding over his sister, actually making friends with his peers, flourishing in his studies and the dueling club…

It was almost perfect.

That gaping hole left behind by Lucy, raw and jagged like a physical wound, grew noticeably more painful with each passing day when he could no longer find her by his side. The void she ripped into him, despite the fact Sebastian knew she had no place in the present year at Hogwarts, still ached immeasurably.

Which was why, on that first day back at Hogwarts, Sebastian all but vibrated in his seat at the Slytherin table.

A sharp elbow to his ribcage brought a yelp to his lips as he turned to Anne, an accusatory look on his features.

“What in the hell are you fixated on the door for? So antsy to get back to your festering dorm room that you can't just sit still and enjoy our first night away from Uncle's dreadful cooking?” Anne drawled, arching a brow, before making a point of stabbing a hefty forkful of roasted potatoes onto her plate. “You've missed the entire sorting ceremony already.”

Sebastian's glowing mood couldn't be brought down even by Anne's bruising assault, though - Lucy would barge in any moment, whispers of dragons and grand adventures with Professor Fig at her heels.

Perhaps she'd even managed to save that poor Ministry man this time around. Hell, he wouldn't put it past her to have already taken the liberty of slaying Ranrok under Gringott's, if only to avoid whatever trouble fate had planned for her throughout the year. He couldn't recall the specifics of her trials, having been preoccupied, but she'd have been smart to alert the Aurors ahead of time.

Yes. That was undoubtedly what she was doing the past year and a half without him. His Lucy, always busy saving the world - likely making preparations for taking down Ranrok before the goblin's plans could even start to come to fruition.

And still she would make her grand, late entrance. Just for show.

Sebastian's grin broadened, paying little mind to Anne's continued complaints and insistence that he eat some damn dessert.

“Pipe down already. Stuff your own face if you're so concerned.” He muttered back, distracted, but not so much that he couldn't spare the time to forcibly cram a cream puff into her protesting, indignant maw.

“I'm concerned for both of you - and my own sanity.” Ominis murmured from across the vast table with a long-suffering sigh.

Anne's hacking and one-sided bickering, Ominis's off-hand chided, and the joyful chaos of the Great Hall soon made way for dread, however, as Headmaster Black cleared his throat from the podium to shoo the students off for the night.

Sebastian remained rooted to the spot, eyes still fixated on the massive double doors as his peers shuffled from their seats, grumbling, and filed toward them. Benches scraped on the marble floor, food vanished, and Sebastian had to be bodily hauled from his spot by his sister while he stared slack-jawed at the door.

“No - no, this isn't right.” He said, adamant, and looked between Anne and Ominis as if trying to get them to understand. “The feast can't be over.”

“Anne told you to get your fill of sweets - it was your own poor time management that led to Black ending the feast before you -” 

Sebastian cut off Ominis's tired chiding by wrenching free and walking briskly toward the doors, shouldering his way through the crowd as he scoured the sea of students for any sign of Lucy's curled, brown tresses.

Maybe she'd been sorted earlier - a private thing with the Headmaster before dinner. Hadn't been late at all and simply took her seat with the other Gryffindors. Maybe she'd be waiting to surprise him outside the Great Hall - would laugh and ask if he'd missed her before dragging him to the Undercroft to catch up and explain where the hell she'd been.

His heart rate quickened, however, when the only thing that greeted him in the spacious corridors were other insignificant students.

A pair of ghosts passed, flitting through the walls and crossing through a gaggle of first year students who shivered and hollered reproachfully after them.

“Ah, yes - poor thing's first night, and she's already laid up under Blainey's care -”

“Eleazar looked to be in quite a state himself. The girl is his new ward, I believe -”

Snippets of the ghosts talking amongst themselves sent Sebastian into a cold panic, and just as Anne and Ominis approached through the throngs, scolding him for leaving them behind, Sebastian took off once more for the hospital wing.

Not having an ill sister to fuss over and constantly badger the older Healer about meant that Sebastian and Blainey had not built up the rapport he'd grown accustomed to in his other life. As such, when he gracelessly burst through the doors of the otherwise serene wing, the stern nurse was less than pleased.

“What in the - this had better be dire, Sallow.” She said tersely, startled upright from her position hovering over the only occupied cot in the room.

She hardly had a moment to tug the curtains shut around her patient, obscuring them from Sebastian's view, before crossing the floor with an impatient clicking of her heels against the tile.

“Lucy - is that her?” Sebastian gasped out desperately, nearly doubled over and breathless from his sprint there. “Is she alright?”

Blainey tilted her head with a curious frown. “If you're here to gawk at our new student after the dragon rumors, I'd suggest you get to bed before curfew. I'm trying to ensure she's well enough for classes tomorrow.”

A non-answer was still an answer, and that was enough to work with.

Defiant brown eyes met Blainey, and Sebastian caught his breath another moment before disregarding her entirely with a flippant, “Not here for rumors. She's my friend.” Before strolling over to the cot.

And he very well might have gotten away with that, had the reunion with Lucy gone literally any better than what actually occurred.

Blainey's huffs followed closely behind as Sebastian rudely shoved open the curtains to reveal his long-lost companion, and he wasn't sure whether the relieved exclamation that crossed his lips was a laugh or a sob.

Either way, he all but threw himself on top of her in a tight hug, paying little mind to the obvious bruises and bandages littering her frame, or the way she was so much paler than he remembered.

“Thank Merlin, it's you, Luce - you have no idea how much I've missed you, I -”

It all would have been fine if Lucy hadn't greeted him with such a blank, exhausted, “I'm sorry, who are you?”

Blainey's subsequent prompt removal at Lucy's request caught Sebastian wholly off-guard as he trudged back to the dungeons in a daze of hurt confusion.

Slapped with a detention, he was less concerned about hand-washing infirmary sheets and significantly more distressed by Lucy's blatant refusal to so much as acknowledge him. 

Part of Sebastian believed she was simply upset with him over something - some petty slight he could make amends for with enough charm and a few chocolate frogs. Perhaps she was upset he hadn't done enough to seek her out when they returned? This level of cold shoulder was rather extreme for such a thing, though - after all, she'd reap the benefits of redoing all the tragic mistakes she had made as well.

Useless annoyance with him didn't explain the utterly bewildered expression on her face, though - as if she really and truly had no clue who he was.

The prospect terrified him.

As he flopped, defeated, into his bed, ignoring Ominis's continued questioning over where he'd run off to, Sebastian mulled restlessly over what happened.

This was supposed to be even better than last year - they would finally all be back together. Fourth year had been a dream come true, finally with nothing to worry about beyond recalling rudimentary concepts for classwork like a normal student. But this year should have been everything.

Sebastian groaned into his pillow.

At first, he'd worried for Lucy - the clear indication she'd been injured to the point her arrival was delayed spoke volumes to the severity of her situation - or rather, their situation, considering his request for complex time travel altered events so significantly. Still, he'd seen her banged up far worse than that.

Which led Sebastian swiftly to his second running theory.

She was displeased with him to the point of feigning not knowing him.

That soured his mood.

A year and a half impatiently waiting to see her, dreaming about her, and she was going to sully the whole reunion with a tantrum? Unlike her, really, but who knew what went through the heads of girls, anyway. He'd had two additional years to unravel the mysteries of the fairer sex and still had yet to feel confident navigating conversations with most of them.

Trying to quell his suspicions that she was merely playing at getting an apology for some unintended offense, Sebastian briefly considered there was some rational reason for her feigned ignorance - maybe she thought it more believable to pretend they didn't know each other, so as not to stir up suspicion. Clever, and smart, but he'd been without her company so long he wasn't inclined to really care if others questioned it - he could always just say they'd played together as children and that Anne was just too vapid and focused on dollies to remember.

A glaring concern kept him awake more than the others, however - what if Lucy really had forgotten him. Some side effect of using her magic to such an extent.

Why, he'd have to befriend her all over again - go through the sickening motions of knowing so much about her while she knew nothing of him in return beyond that he was some precocious boy who'd all but assaulted her while she was laid up in a medical cot.

Not a fantastic first impression.

Which begged another possibility to be considered - if she had indeed lost her memory, he could do so much more than salvage their friendship.

They could start anew.

Sebastian knew how this whole thing played out, and there was an opportunity there he'd be a fool not to snatch if push came to shove. A better impression, a better friendship - he could be reliable and present for her. He could actually help her so she'd come to love and depend on him in ways she hadn't been able to in their muddled past.

That word again - love - gave him pause, and a swell of guilt bubbled up like bile he had to forcibly shove back down.

No, this was a good thing. Possibly the best outcome if she'd simply forgotten who he was, and would get to know a new Sebastian.

Who he was now was tailored and polished. He'd wowed the faculty all last year with his prowess in class, quickly grasping new concepts and thriving - she'd like this version of him the way everyone else did.

With that resolve and tentative optimism in his plans as Sebastian churned through every scenario he could think up, he eventually found fitful sleep in the wee hours of the morning. 

Starting the day fresh seemed promising, despite the baggy-eyed glowers of his roommates when morning and a new semester came for them.

“Why in the hell are you an even noisier sleeper suddenly? If you're as insufferable tonight, you're sleeping on the Common Room sofa like a bloody cruppy.” Ominis groused, clearly not as enthused as his oldest friend.

“Ah yes, I couldn't possibly risk our resident princess failing to catch enough winks to maintain his chipper personality.” Sebastian replied dryly with a roll of his eyes.

Ominis let out a sharp exhale through his nose and wrenched on a smile. “Have I ever mentioned I know how to cast the Cruciatus, Sebastian?”

Their bickering carried on through the morning, overflowing well into breakfast and even as they spilled into Hecat's classroom with Anne piping in. Sebastian was having so much fun, he'd forgotten entirely about his earlier troubles.

Until Prewett's flaming orange hair caught his eye.

“Say, care for a bit of practice before the old bat comes to lecture our ears off, Prewett?” He asked smoothly, approaching the taller Gryffindor with an easy smile.

A quick duel - one he'd already won before, and he could easily give an encore performance just in time for Lucy's arrival. Either she remembered him and she'd scoff and take the piss out of him for repeating something so childish, or she wouldn't recall the last time and she'd be wowed by how spectacular a duelist he was.

“Sallow.” Leander greeted, somewhat wary. “We aren't all so fortunate to grasp the lessons the way you've been - some of us appreciate the value of Professor Hecat's lesson plans.”

“All the more reason to practice with the best then, hm?” He answered, casting a glance over his shoulder at the empty doorway before facing Leander once more with a smirk. “Come on, just a quick one to warm up?”

Lke that, he was back at it, effortlessly deflecting Leander's efforts amidst a crowded classroom. The gasps and cheers of their peers did, admittedly, stroke his ego - but nothing gave him a thrill quite like seeing a wisp of brown hair out of his periphery.

The duel was boring, certainly - he knew how to best just about anyone with a wand. But, he was all for the show, and with a bit more bravado than was necessary, he goaded Leander even louder - riling the ginger into enough frustration that he'd get even sloppier.

As planned, the Hebridean skeleton unlatched itself from the ceiling with a deafening crack - but this time, Sebastian merely rolled his eyes as the others cowered and Leander ducked.

Before Hecat, already hobbling down the staircase from her office with a disapproving frown, could even get her spell off to save the day, Sebastian lazily flicked his wand and levitated the massive structure back into place.

“Careful, Prewett - wouldn't want the new student thinking we're all a bunch of talentless ruffians here.” He said casually, stretching and casting a wink to Lucy, who stood with her lips parted in surprise from the sidelines as she observed the display.

Sebastian felt a rush of pride at how everything played out perfectly - how smooth it all was. Anne's scoff from behind only solidified the fact that he'd made precisely the impression he intended.

Lucy would be hooked once more before class even let out - this was all so easy.

Really, it was a blessing if she'd managed to forget everything. Hell, he wouldn't even need to apologize to her anymore. None of it mattered if he was the only one to recall everything they'd done in another life - after a bit of time, he could simply brush it all off as little more than a bad dream to be forgotten.

Not only did he have Anne back, but neither she nor Ominis knew a thing about any of the events that transpired only in his memories now. No spectacular fuck-ups to grovel for forgiveness over, no trail of detentions soiling his studies, no pitying glances from every damned professor he came across - and now, maybe even Lucy would be ignorant to his many, many sins.

This was just getting better and better.

Without missing a beat, Sebastian slid into the empty chair at a table and patted the spot next to him, nodding toward the current object of his attention to join him, offering a half-hearted apology to Hecat while Leander all but simpered in the face of the old woman’s displeasure.

Hesitant, Lucy glanced over at her distressed housemate, lips tugging into a mild frown, before she sighed and slipped in beside Sebastian, scooching her chair a bit away from him and looking about as tense as a cornered mooncalf.

“I promise I don't bite.” He said, though he did bite back an amused grin at her shyness.

How peculiar to see her so meek.

Adorable, really.

“Do I know you?” She asked, glancing at him and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she turned to face him. “You've been rather familiar since yesterday.”

Sebastian paused and scoured her features for any hint of deception - but there was none to be found.

So, he really and truly was in the clear… for now, at least.

He'd planned for this, as well - any way to excuse his behavior last night, which would appear odd to someone who was so certain she didn't know him.

“My apologies - Sebastian Sallow.” He said cheerfully, struggling to contain the fact that he felt downright giddy at the ever-expanding opportunity this scenario presented. “You'll learn. I'm a bit of a prodigy in Divination. You and I become fast friends, I'm certain of it. I hope you'll forgive me for making you uncomfortable? It's just that I can already sense our bond.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief as his lie came across convincingly enough that Lucy relaxed immediately, a bright smile on her lips as she nodded in understanding.

“Ah! Professor Fig has told me all about Divination, though I'm laughable at the subject. How fascinating it is to speak with someone who's had more luck than I have in the study.” She said politely.

Ah yes, he'd forgotten her overtly proper way of speaking when she first entered Hogwarts. No matter, he'd get her back to her normal snark soon enough. He'd endeavor to hear Lucy's carefree laughter and that promised butterbeer date by the end of the month. Should be easy, after all, to woo a girl who'd already fallen for him once when he wasn't even trying.

She didn't stand a chance.

Speaking of not standing a chance…

“Sallow, Kay - front and center. You'll practice disarming each other - no more falling skeletons, Sallow.” Hecat barked, gesturing to the dueling platform.

Sebastian stood without hesitation, offering what he hoped was a particularly dashing grin down at his opponent as she eyed him cautiously.

“Your confidence tells me you've already divined the outcome of our duel?” She asked, tense and guarded.

A small part of him ached at the lost familiarity they used to share, but it only emboldened him to make this interaction count.

“Oh, don't look so worried - I'll go easy. Come on - let me give you a proper Hogwarts welcome.”

A blush, faint and pink, dusted across her cheeks just the same as it had the first time he'd delivered the line, and Sebastian bit his bottom lip to contain a victorious smile - of course it landed. She ate that sort of mischief up.

He'd rehearsed this moment in his head tirelessly, and with a practiced, smooth motion, helped her up from her seat with an outstretched hand before pushing in her chair and guiding her by the small of her back toward the center of the room, once more ignoring Anne's horrified whispers to Ominis detailing her brother's absolutely vile, horrible, awful, gross behavior and how she needed to offer the poor new girl a scouring charm.

Their taunting mattered very little, however, when he squared off against Lucy - deceptively delicate and demure in her skirted uniform at the other end of the platform - and took a moment to drink her in.

This was where it all began, after all.

Maybe he'd actually go easy on her this time - let her get her footing a bit before upping the ante.

Not that he'd let her win this time, though. While he didn't mind her beating him fairly their first duel facing off, he wasn't about to throw a match just for the sake of appearances.

Lucy was about to get knocked flat on her ass - but he'd make it up to her. A good opportunity to insist on carrying her books to their next class. Maybe even offer some private pointers in the clock tower to feign getting to know her better.

It was all part of the plan.

Then, as all things with Lucy seemed fated to wind up, his plan went to shit.

Sebastian's first cast - a slow and idle testing of a simple Stupefy - hit her squarely in the chest, and he stood stock-still like he'd been the one struck. She'd raised her wand, moving it like she was about to deflect…

But then stopped.

She choked.

This wasn't right.

There were no cheers this time from their classmates, either, as Lucy fell pathetically without getting a single cast off. Sighs, pitying stares, and even Anne's reproachful glare as she muttered something about bullying girls.

Sebastian crossed over to Lucy and offered her a hand, shaken as he helped her to her feet.

“You, uh…” He began, but the words died as he looked on her pale features.

She what? 

Dueled well? That would be a lie.

Tried her hardest? She clearly didn't try at all.

She was frightened.

Of him?

“Are you alright?” He asked dumbly, all prior practiced lines and suave demeanor fluttering out the window.

“Y-yeah, just… not a big fan of dueling, I suppose.” Lucy stammered out, murmuring a soft, self-conscious apology.

“You suppose.” Sebastian repeated blankly, uncertain what to make of this.

Lucy loved dueling.

Or rather, she did.

“Good demonstration, Sallow.” Professor Hecat cut his thoughts short. “We'll segue into Protego next - it would do us all good to remember our basics for defense so we don't wind up acquainted with the floor like our newest student. Pair up.”

Lucy shuffled back away from Sebastian, apologetic and sheepish as she muttered something about letting him practice with someone a bit more his skill level while she sought out one of her housemates, and he was left balking and flummoxed.

Hogwarts has its fair share of ghosts, including everyone’s favorite poltergeist.

However, most when throughout their life and education without knowing or realizing that things much darker and malicious lurked there as well. Things left behind by those thinking themselves superior. Or things that simply *are*. Manifestations of the suffering, chaos, and violence of the wizarding world.

—

“Three heads are better than one”

“It’s two heads are better than one”

“And by logic, three heads is better than two. Simple mathematics, Ominis.”

Rolling her eyes, amused smirk dancing on the edge of her lips.

Three.

With a quick glance of her surroundings and three flicks of her wand. The braziers brilliant light filled the dark dungeon hallway.

Telltale sounds of sliding stone and Sebastian’s excited gasp told her that she’d gotten it right. As did the gust of cold wind accompanied by a sinking sense of dread.

“Dark ominous corridors. My favorite”

“No comment”

“Oh come on. That was a good one”

She didn’t respond as the boys bantered. Using all her energy to stay upright while her stomach began twisting into knots around her other organs.

The deeper under the castle they ventured, the heavier the air became. An oppressive force weighing on her body and soul.

Sebastian looked around like a small child seeing Christmas decorations for the first time. Ominis was stoic as he walked, matching pace with his companions.

Each step echoed off the stone walls, a cacophony of muffled wails.

It wasn’t long before they reached what seemed to be a dead end. Sebastian groaned and kicked at the rubble of a broken wall fixture.

“Sebastian. Wait.” She took a step forward. The stone wasn’t just fall off from the wall. It was depicting *something* “It’s a stone relief.”

A quick reparo later and Ominis was covering his ears, goosebumps trailed viciously up the girls neck.

“Ominis. What’s wrong?” Sebastian called out, taking a second glance at both his companions who had suddenly became eerily tense. “Talia?”

Ominis spoke. Voice shaky. “Voices. So many voices.”

Sebastian glanced at Talia, questioning her. She shook her head just enough, careful not to move much. “I’m not hearing any voices, Ominis.” Sebastian took a step forward his blind friend, tone wary.

The blond Slytherin came clean about his being a Parselmouth. The hissing that came from his throat ran a chill through the room as the stone door began to slither and open.

The air suffocated Talia. The hissing might’ve stopped but air came in quiet bursts over her shoulder. Glancing into nothingness.

It was a creepy underground tunnel. It was just her mind playing tricks on her. The walls weren’t dancing. There were not snakes and other creepy crawlers going past her feet. No breathing.

The three of them completed more puzzles in this never ended labyrinth created by their house founder.

It was only after a few weird looks from Sebastian that Talia realized she’d kept looking over her shoulder.

Hallucinations; she told herself. Audio visual hallucinations. The eyes in the corner weren’t there. The fingers trailing against her back her figments of her fearful state.

“Got it!” Sebastian celebrated from the other side of the room as he got the final gate open. At least somebody was having a good time.

Four sets of footprints made their way down. Until the trio found themselves staring at a wall.

Tortured faces. Screaming for reprieve. Agony strewn all through the room. Pairing with the heavy scent of death.

The door behind them sealed.

Trapped.

They were trapped.

“Merlin, Sebastian will you *stop* pacing.” Ominis’ voice cut through, aggravated and afraid.

Sebastian and Talia looked at each other. Both standing completely still.

“I’m not pacing. We’re just standing here.”

Ominis froze. “Then-“ he cut himself off. Not wanting to draw any more attention to *whatever* it was. “Then let’s just get out of here.”

Distant screams filled the air, just faint enough to blame on the wind. The nonexistent breeze. Decay filled the stagnant air, emanating from the bones gathered in the corner.

“Guess we found where your aunt ended up.” He got a swift elbow to the ribs for that.

It didn’t take long for them to figure out what they needed to do to get out, convincing Ominis was the hardest part; then came the argument over who was to cast it and who was to take it.

When they finally did, the faint sound of laughter mixed in with the sound of screams.

The screams died down and the doorway melted away. Revealing the long sought after Scriptorium of Salazar Slytherin. Their house founder.

Getting up off the floor, the group made their way inside. Four sets of footsteps walked arose the stone floor.

Talia turned around.

Nothing.

The hint of a shape passing through as the wall came up.

Cold crept up the stairs at her.

She turned and hurried up the stairs after Sebastian.

“Sebastian.” She whispered once she got close to him, “Let’s just find what you need and get out of here.”

He looked confused as he turned to her. “Why are you whispering? Ominis knows why we’re here.”

“Because,” her voice was hushed, “I don’t think we’re the only ones in here.”

His eyebrows shot up and he glanced over her shoulder. Only to meet her gaze a second later, skepticism dancing in his brown eyes. “Is that why you’re acting all weird?”

Exasperation was apparent on her features cause he immediately backtracked and began ruffling through papers again, obviously rushing.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, knuckles white around the handle of her wand.

Ominis had heard it too, in the corridor. Right?

Merlin. I’m losing my mind

The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

An exhale.

Someone. Something.

Was breathing on her.

She whirled around, wand drawn.

Empty.

Sebastian stared at her.

Her throat tightened and her lungs filled with lead. Dread. Dread. Dread.

“There’s something in here.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Broken only by the sound of footsteps coming up the shallow stairs.

“If you’ve gotten what you need. Let’s go. This place is giving me the creeps.”

Ominis. Thank goodness.

Sebastian pocketed a journal and they discovered what they thought to be their saving grace. The exit.

Just as they were about to leave Talia felt something wrap around her arm and start to tug. It was wet. Gods why was it wet. She didn’t dare turn around. What if it was looking at her?

What would happen if she looked at it? She couldn’t move. She tried to leave but her feet were stuck and her knees wouldn’t budge.

Sebastian wrapped his hand on hers and pulled her out the exit into the dungeon hallway.

“What is Salazar’s name are you doing? I thought you were in some big hurry to leave?” Sebastian hadn’t seen anything.

Talia opened her mouth, nothing came out. She tried again to no avail.

“I think I’m losing my mind.” She croaked. Barely audible. Turning over her shoulder towards the closing door of the scriptorium she saw it.

All teeth and smiles. It just stared at her until the door was almost shut, then it lunged and was gone.

She jumped, met with more stares from her classmate. Ominis stood silently, no opinion to share. He refused to turn his body toward the now shut scriptorium and he slowly began to walk away without a word.

“Please tell me you saw that.” Her voice was uneven and shallow.

“You about jump out of your skin? Yeah.” Of course. “Now. I have some reading to do. I’ll see you around.”

Ominis turned toward her sleeping form, resting on his elbow as he ran his hand up and down her arm. He focused on her breathing and the feeling of her soft skin under his finger tips, the tension in his body already starting to melt away. He leaned over her, finding her cheek and planting a soft, feather-light kiss on it. He could tell she had her back towards him, so he wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her body close as he nuzzled into her neck. He inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of her hair filling his nostrils and smothering out the last remaining embers of his worries. As he held her, nuzzling into her further, his worried feelings were replaced with another feeling, particularly in the lower half of his body. 

“You know, if you ever need some stress relief after waking up from one of these nightmares, I give you permission to wake me up however you please.” She offered several weeks prior. Ominis was a little taken aback by the offer, worrying that it may be a bit violating for her, but she assured him it was okay, affirming that she had always wanted to be woken up like this. He had been plagued with a few nightmares since the conversation, but hadn’t considered taking her up on the offer until tonight. The feeling of her body pressed against his awakening his desires.

With his face still nuzzled into her neck, he brought his hand that had been resting on her stomach up and under her night shirt. He squeezed and kneaded the soft breasts his hand was met with, earning him a sigh from her lips. He smiled at the sound and continued his exploration, knowing she was a bit of a heavy sleeper, and very likely still knocked out at the moment. Ominis’s hand traveled back down her stomach, slipping under the waistband of her pajama pants, followed by the waistband of her underwear, a soft groan spilling from him as his fingers met her clit.

Ominis’s movements were soft as his two fingers rubbed circles into her. The feeling of her wetness left his cock hard as it pressed into her rear. He brought his hand lower, gently prodding at her entrance before slowly sliding a finger inside. The moan she let out in response almost set Ominis over the edge right then and there, and it only took a few more moments before he pulled his finger out and turned her on to her back as he straddled her. 

“Ominiiiissss” she sighed softly as she felt his body weight on top of her. Ominis brought his head down to her neck, kissing it as his hands worked her bottoms off, followed by his own. He wasted no time as he lined himself up with her entrance and slid inside of her, but he kept his pace sweet and gentle, not wanting to wake her up too aggressively. He got his clear sign that she was fully awake when she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. 

Her climax came shortly after gaining consciousness, with his coming right after. They lay next to each other as they caught their breaths, facing one another. 

“Another nightmare, darling?” Came her soft voice as she stroked his cheek. The mention of the nightmare almost flooded Ominis’s mind with worry again, but he fought it off, instead focusing on the feeling her touch brought him. 

“Unfortunately, but I’m feeling much better now. I promise.” Ominis leaned forward, meeting her lips in a gentle kiss. 

She was the one to fall asleep first, drifting off fairly quickly as she lay wrapped in Ominis’s arms. Ominis forced himself to stay awake for a little longer, wanting to once again focus on the sound of her breathing. When he found himself unable to fight sleep any longer, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be consumed by it, knowing full well that there would be no further night terrors tonight.

A violent flash of red. Screams echoed around the small room.

Nothing but screams rattled the room and the limp body of a girl on the stone floor.

She hadn’t even registered she was screaming until her voice failed. The taste of iron in her mouth. Everything was red and on fire. Each individual nerve ending was screaming.

The stone wall of agonized faces melted away as the small Ravenclaw writhed on the floor.

She didn’t even hear Sebastian’s celebratory cry of having gotten it open. Everything was muddled. Too far away. Too loud. Too close. Too much.

In a faraway part of her mind she registered footsteps walking past her, but she couldn’t be sure. She was too busy drowning in wet concrete.

Far away voices argued. Unintelligible mumbles, only clear enough to know the clear sound of disdain.

Katherine struggled to open her eyes, staying absolutely still was the only way to stay conscious. Though maybe it was better if she let herself slip into the ever calling abyss. The screams were so loud and she wanted it to stop.

When she did finally open her eyes, she was met with the dead gaze of Noctua Gaunt. She flinched away and it sent a new wave of agony and nausea through her body.

“Merlin’s beard. She is still screaming. We outta just gag her.”

“Because you cast the torture curse on her, you unfeeling git”

“It’s not my fault she’s such a wimp. You should be thanking me that now we’re not gonna die in that hole.”

Silence.

Just the sound of rustling papers and broken sobs.

“And once I’ve found something worthwhile we can leave and not have to listen to her pathetic voice anymore.”

Katherine came to enough to hear the tail end of a conversation the two Slytherins were having. Sebastian’s condescending tone carrying through to her bleeding ears.

Curled onto her side, limbs refusing to move. Every thought sent tremors through her. An uphill battle to get onto hands and knees left her puking on the stone floor; stomach acid that burned almost as much as the rest of her.

Grasping at the wall, bloodied fingers refusing to hold on. Weak limbs unable to hold weight. Katherine hit the floor with another wave of sobs.

The most she could do was crawl; a losing battle. Managing to drag herself into the next room where the other two were preparing to leave, she tried to call out but she had screamed her throat raw and there was no noise to be made.

She heard the exit open and close. Now met with a deafening silence.

The only sounds being her pulse and strangled breath. She let herself collapse onto the cold stone floor, a slight reprieve of the burning she felt everywhere.

She distantly heard the wall of agony reappear near her feet as she fell unconscious.

Heavy eyelids opening, the darkness of the scriptorium too bright for her eyes. Squinting and trying to get up. Stiff limbs that still hesitated to support her.

Grabbing onto a nearby table and slowly pulling herself up, she looked back down; trail of blood smeared across the floor from the cursed wall to where she had collapsed.

A groan escaped her desert throat. The noise ripping a vicious cough from her throat. More blood hit the floor as she coughed. Body refusing to stop shaking.

Hobbling up the stairs, legs weak from cuts and the curse that still wracked her body. Every step sending jolts of agony to her nerves.

The logical part of her brain knew that she was in fact not being torn apart piece by piece but the rest of her refused the accept that as truth. She was slowly dying. And she was alone.

Completely and helplessly alone.

That realization sent another wave of sobs and she fell to her knees at the top of the stairs.

Nobody knew. Nobody cared.

Katherine wailed. The emotional agony almost as debilitating as its physical counterpart.

After a while she managed to get her legs to obey her long enough to stand on her own and make her way to the exit. She wanted to burn Salazar’s precious scriptorium to ash. It disgusted her.

She tried to hold her wand but it fell to the floor. Efforts to hold it steady, let alone cast a spell were fruitless. She’d settle with knocking Sebastian on his ass the next time she saw the cocky bastard.

She managed to get herself out of the room without much issue. Though stumbling past a reflective surface had her realizing she looked about as terrible as she felt, if not worse.

Hair everywhere, clothes and face caked in dirt, bleeding from her nose, ears, and mouth. The angry gash on her leg and her missing fingernails. Tears streaked through dirt and blood. Features gaunt, eyes dull and lifeless, lips dry and cracked.

How long had she been down there?

Footsteps. Running footsteps down the stairs. She turned, vision blurring at the movement. A blur of red swiftly approached. Hands grabbed her shoulders.

“Katherine!! Katherine! Can you hear me?”

She blinked and shook her head. Trying to get her vision to line up.

Freckles. Red mop of hair.

“Ga- Garreth?” She could barely speak.

“Thank Merlin!” He wrapped his arms around her, seemingly unbothered about getting his own robes dirty. Pulling back to arms length, he was frazzled. “Where in Godric’s name have you been? It’s been days.” At that he seemed to finally take in her appearance, face paling. “What the hell happened…” His voice was barely above a whisper, anger thinly veiled.

Katherine tried to shake her head. She just wanted to go to bed and try to sleep off the after shocks of the cruciatus curse. Merlin, he had really cast it on her.

“Katherine!” Garreth’s voice shook her from her thoughts and she met his weary gaze. “What happened?” His tone softened as he looked at her. “I was worried sick.”

Oh.

Someone did notice.

Someone did care.

Tears pricked at her eyes and at the sight Garreth pulled her into another hug.

“C’mon. Let’s get you taken care of.” He dipped down, arms around her to keep her steady.

When she continued to stumble, he didn’t miss how she limped on her injured leg. He wasn’t going to press her, she would tell him when she was ready. But he’d be damned if he left her by herself when she was suffering. So he did what any gentleman would do, swept down and lifted her completely off her feet. Holding her fragile body close to his chest.

“I’ve got you, Katherine. You’re safe now.”

If Sebastian had to hear the name Lucan Brattleby fall from his wife's beautiful lips one more time that week, he might very well implode. 

The bright-eyed Gryffindor boy who used to worship the ground Sebastian and MC walked on had now become a perpetual thorn in his side. Ever since MC became Head of the Auror Office, one of her core duties was seeing to any new additions to her department. Brattleby was one such new addition, and the boy - now a rather strapping young man - trailed after her incessantly everywhere she went. 

How might Sebastian know such things when he spent all of his time at Hogwarts, teaching Magical Theory? Certainly it had to do with the fact that MC still found Lucan just as delightful as she had in school, and told Sebastian every annoying little detail about the new Auror-in-training each night at supper. 

Sebastian attempted to keep his jealousy in check, succeeding only in bending his spoon with the brutal force of his grip, as MC prattled on fondly about something Brattleby had said to her earlier that day. He had barely been paying attention to the words tumbling from her smiling mouth, painfully aware that she had yet to mercifully change the subject. One particular sentence got his attention though -

" - and so I told Lucan he should simply train directly under me from now on. I can work closely as his mentor."

"Directly under you?" Sebastian choked on his drink, and MC waited patiently for his coughs to subside before answering him.

"Yes - I recalled how helpful it had been to work hand-in-hand with Professor Fig in my fifth year, and Lucan is such a talented wizard that he could benefit from a similar approach." She explained.

Trying to keep his tone even, Sebastian asked, "Wouldn't that burden your already heavy workload?"

Smiling slyly, MC shot him a mischevious wink. Any other time he might have gotten a thrill from her flirtatious behavior, but the fact they were still discussing another man when she did it caused him to lose his appetite for the meal in front of him. He subtly pushed his plate away, trying to will the bile back down his throat.

"Well that's the beauty of it, darling - when I've got him trained just how I like him, I'll promote him as my partner."

Loud scraping echoed through their cottage as Sebastian's chair shot out from under him, and he was suddenly on his feet. MC had to steady the dining table to keep it from spilling over as well. 

"What's the matter - "

"As I recall, Lucan Brattleby prefers to organize duels rather than fight in them himself. I'll be damned if I entrust my wife's safety to some cowardly little twig." Sebastian was seething now - trying to justify his outburst - his sudden loathing for their school friend. No, it wasn't that he felt threatened by Brattleby. It was that MC was constantly thrust into life or death situations, and she needed someone trustworthy by her side. Someone like - "Natty. Natty would be a fantastic choice as your partner. I never forgot she took a cruciatus curse for you in fifth year."

MC looked horrified by the suggestion, and the way her face contorted in confusion had Sebastian second-guessing himself. But pride would not allow him to back down.

"Natty is in Magical Law Enforcement, yes. However she has absolutely no aspirations of becoming an Auror. Her passion lies in securing local communities, not chasing Dark Wizards across the globe. And I certainly do not select Aurors on the basis that they will take an unforgivable curse in my stead, Sebastian." She fixed him with an accusatory glare.

Waving her wand, she cleared the dishes from the table - dinner was clearly over as neither of them had an appetite any longer. Sebastian wasn't finished with the discussion, though.

Perhaps a different approach - softer this time. She was resting against the countertop now, elbows propped up on the surface to hold her now aching migraine. 

Sebastian carefully approached her from behind and slid his arms around her middle, pressing tender kisses against her neck and the exposed tops of her shoulders. She melted back into him and sighed. A good sign he hadn't fallen too far out of her good graces. 

"I'm not trying to start an argument, love." He soothed, rubbing small circles into her hip with his thumb. "I just think there are far better options for such an important decision."

She stiffened in his hold and spun around to face him, deep scowl marring her pretty features. "I handpicked Lucan for this role - if my judgement is so poor that I can't even hire a proper Auror, then perhaps I've got no business being in the department at all - let alone heading it."

It was meant to be sarcastic - a kinder way to remind Sebastian he had no right to tell her how to do her job. However, it wouldn't be a proper argument with Sebastian Sallow if he didn't stick his foot in his mouth at least one more time.

And so he said, with all the grace of a newborn Graphorn, "Perhaps you're right. Become a Professor at Hogwarts instead. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position will be open once Hecat retires at the end of the year. You'd do well in the role. It's safe - and it's with me."

"You-you did not just - " She sputtered, unable to wrap her head around this dense, stupid man she deigned to call her husband. MC was not normally one lost for words, and Sebastian knew in an instant that he'd fucked up miserably. 

And that was precisely how Sebastian wound up struggling through the worst night of his adult life, cramming his long limbs on the tiny sofa of their living room while MC slept alone in their locked bedroom. Despite the discomfort and unfamiliarity of sleeping bitterly alone, he'd still somehow managed to drift off at some point in the wee hours of the morning. He'd startled awake when the front door slammed shut, a fair indicator that his beloved did not wake up in a more forgiving mood than she'd went to sleep with.

Grousing by himself the rest of the morning, Sebastian struggled to find the motivation to do anything. There was no Hogwarts in the middle of summer - no classwork or needy students to distract him from his sour mood. He'd rarely fought with MC in all the years they'd known each other, and never once had they had a fight like this in their marriage. And now he'd sent her off to spend the day with another man who was clearly eager to garner her attentions, while she was livid with Sebastian.

That wouldn't do at all.

Still one for tinkering with difficult magic in his spare time, Sebastian had perfected a new spell. New for him, at least. It was something he'd intended to surprise MC with - perhaps use it to play an innocent joke on her when she least expected it. Now, he could see a much more practical use for his long-endured ritual of becoming an unregistered Animagus.

Having visited MC at work on multiple occasions already, Sebastian found it painfully simple to sneak in - moreso as a lithe, coffee-colored cat. There were several other cats roaming the Ministry; familiars to the various witches and wizards working there. He doubted he'd stand out.

Trotting throughout the maze of hallways on four soft paws, he swiftly navigated the way to MC's corner of the world. 

The words Auror Department were emblazoned, bright and imposing, above a set of large double doors, and Sebastian slipped through when a group of ministry officials exited, weaving between their legs to avoid being stepped on. Slinking past the rows of desks, his ears perked in the direct of a familiar voice. Abandoning his earlier destination for her office, Sebastian followed the sound of MC's voice until he could make out what she was saying.

"Next!" Her voice rang out into the hall, loud and demanding.

A small, booming noise and a pained grunt echoed into the hall.

"Next!"

Her steady, commanding tone led him to a large training room - a line of nervous witches and wizards in Auror robes stood against the wall. MC stood toward the center of the room, wand drawn and looking positively menacing. Sebastian skirted in through the door, watching with keen interest. He'd visited her before - brought her lunch and flowers over the summer months - but never had he actually gotten to witness her working.

A pale, young wizard stood at the front of the line, foot wavering hesitantly in the air. He did not want to step forward. His peers pushed him from behind, and he stumbled out into the center of the room to face MC. To the untrained eye, her demeanor would seem composed and professional. To Sebastian, her rigid shoulders and the way her mouth pressed into a thin line spelled heightened danger.

"Hesitation will get you killed." She said, discontent dripping from her every word.

Sebastian thought the young wizard was right to be afraid. Had he been in the lad's shoes, he might have even run at that moment. To his immense credit, however, he raised his wand and pointed it at MC. A flicker of a smile crossed her features before she mercilessly shot the wizard backward with a streak of angry red light from her wand. A burning smell filled the room, and her opponent groaned while his peers helped him to his feet.

"Next." She commanded, eyeing the next in line.

"I knew I should have called out sick today. Who'd have thought Sallow would want us to run combat drills with her? It's always just a one-sided spar - if you can even call it that." Sebastian heard one of the witches toward the end of the line whisper.

"If you ask me, I'd wager she's in a foul mood. Normally, she'll at least let us get an offensive spell off. Today she's only using nonverbal spells before we even have a chance to shield. We don't stand a chance. Best to get it over with quickly, I say." The witch's companion replied quietly. 

"Oh dear - she's letting the trainee participate? What was his name again?"

Brattleby.

Sebastian had the distinct urge to hiss, but held back. Lucan was presently squaring up against his wife, and he wanted nothing more than to watch her throw him painfully into the back wall like she'd done with the others.

He certainly was a good-looking young man now - taller than most of the others, and he'd filled out handsomely over the years. He still had that same bright smile, and it sickened Sebastian to see it directed at his wife. What infuriated him further was that her own gaze softened when he stood against her, holding his wand out confidently.

"Can't think of a better way to test my progress with nonverbal shielding charms than to go up against the very best. Don't hold back on me just because I'm new!" Lucan grinned. 

"Have it your way, Brattleby." MC raised a brow and smirked, before aiming an unrelenting streak of red directly at his chest. 

Sebastian held his breath for a moment, but released it with a disappointed sigh at the same time the others in the room let out a simultaneous gasp. Lucan had deflected the attack, a bright purple bubble surrounding him protectively. He grinned proudly up at MC, but was instantly blown back by a blue-ish grey spell and flung into the onlooking combatants. Lucan let out a groan from the floor.

"Never let your guard down. Next!"

Satisfied that he'd seen Lucan get laid out indiscriminately, and not wanting to raise suspicion by having a room filled with trained Aurors hear a laughing feline, Sebastian slipped back out of the room and paced toward MC's office. 

Her office door was wide open, and so he simply let himself in. He'd been inside dozens of times before, but never by himself. Now, he could take his time exploring where his other half spent so many of her days away from him.

The office was just so uniquely her - warmly lit by wall sconces, all the furniture crafted from deep wood and leather. Ceiling-high bookcases and shelves stretched along most of the walls, jammed full of strange artifacts and weathered tomes about dark magic. A massive writing desk took up much of the floor-space, its surface almost entirely obscured from view under mountains of paperwork.

To anyone visiting, it would seem she kept a relatively mundane workroom, save for a few small, framed portraits perched neatly along the perimeter of her desk. Sebastian, however, was not just anyone. Deftly leaping onto a shelf, he'd spied a few familiar sprigs of dried dittany flowers - ones he used to fasten to his many letters to her while they were still in school.

Across the room were various other nostalgic objects - the preserved bouquet she'd held on their wedding day, a pair of battle-worn dueling gloves he'd gifted her several years ago for her first Crossed Wands competition, and a small vial of perfume she'd received from Anne for Christmas last year - a few drops still sat in the bottom that MC simply refused to use, reluctant to finish the scent she loved so much. Sebastian made a mental note to fetch her a new bottle on his way home.

If he inspected the room more closely, he was certain he'd find countless other personal effects - each containing a wellspring of meaningful memories. He knew his wife was sentimental, but seeing so many pieces of himself and the others most important to her littered around her office was touching. Guilt began eating away at him for ever doubting her, for even considering he might lose her to anyone else. She'd always been his, and he knew it.

Just about ready to leave, he caught sight of a rather large stack of ragged, yellowed pages strewn messily over a corner table - she had obviously been pouring over these old papers frequently, given their wrinkled state. He landed gracefully on the floor, a soft thud as his paws met hardwood, and scampered over to get a closer look. He wasn't sure why, but something about the stack of papers nagged at him.

He didn't have to wonder for long, however, as he instantly recognized the letters and their mortifying contents the moment he rested his front paws on the table to get a closer look. 

Poetry he'd written for her, back when he had been a lovesick seventh year. 

If cats could blush, he'd be a rather vibrant sight to see. Glancing over a few of the lines on the top page, he thought he might just die from sheer embarrassment. She simply couldn't keep these at work any longer- what if someone else saw? Sebastian, himself, didn't even want to see them. They were dreadful.

Desperate to rid the world of any evidence of his attempts to woo his then-girlfriend like some kind of lovelorn bard, he fit as many pages as he could in his small jaw and tugged. He'd drag the cursed letters into the candle fire of her sconces if he had to.

In his haste to burn away his shameful past, he failed to hear voices approaching until they were just outside the door. Sebastian looked up, eyes wide with surprise, to find Lucan Brattleby and a highly-amused MC standing in the doorway.

"Did you get a cat, MC?" Lucan asked, stating curiously down at Sebastian.

"I did not. Prewett is the only one on this floor who brings his cat in - perhaps his darling pet got lost?" She smiled fondly before walking over and scooping the cat in her arms, gently prying the offensive letters from his mouth.

"Mustn't touch what doesn't belong to you, little one." She crooned, stroking under his chin. 

She hadn't touched him since she'd gotten home from work the previous evening, and he melted into her hand. Even if she viewed him as nothing more than a cat at the moment, he relished in her gentle ministrations. Perhaps he'd buy her a cat to go with that perfume, since she seemed so fond of them.

"Anyway, what did you need to discuss, Lucan?" MC took a seat behind her desk, carefully maneuvering the cat to sit in her lap so that she could continue stroking it, drawing out low purrs.

"It was more of a personal matter, actually. It can wait until after work if you're busy right now." Lucan said sheepishly, pointedly eyeing the dozens of incomplete reports on MC's desk.

A personal conversation? Sebastian tried to look nonchalant, but both his ears pricked up to listen intently. Perhaps he was right to be concerned.

"Nonsense - I can always make the time for my juniors. Now, go on and spit it out." She replied patiently.

"Well, I was only wondering if you'd had a chance to speak with Sebastian yet. About what you and I discussed." Lucan asked softly, his cheeks tinted ever so slightly.

Sebastian couldn't help but look up at MC, startled. What the hell was this about?

"I've brought it up with him a few times now, but you know Sebastian - mind always off somewhere else. I can hardly keep his attention at supper. I promise to press him for a proper answer this evening." She said apologetically.

Lucan brightened significantly at her assurance and grinned - the same lopsided smile he'd worn every time he saw them duel in the Crossed Wands - or perhaps it was every time Lucan saw MC.

"Brilliant! Thank you, MC. I'll get out of your hair then." He chirped, turning to leave.

"One moment, Lucan." MC said firmly, and Lucan froze in his tracks.

She gingerly set Sebastian on top of her desk before wandering over to one of the massive bookcases, thumbing over the covers until she found the right one. A thin, cloth-bound book Sebastian immediately recognized from his first year at Hogwarts as 'Basics for Beginners' made its way from the bookshelf and into Lucan's hands. He eyed it, baffled.

"You made a dangerously novice error during our spar. It was a good shield charm, but you allowed yourself to become distracted. I know you're still just a trainee, but if you don't practice good habits now, you'll wind up getting yourself or one of us killed when it matters." She reprimanded him, and he flushed darkly. "Read that cover-to-cover and we'll try again another day. Off you go."

Muttering an embarrassed thanks, Lucan exited quickly with his head bowed. Sebastian was already on the floor near the doorway, ready to follow the mortified wizard out before he burst into laughter, but instead he found himself painfully hung upside down by his tail, paws dangling pathetically in the air. He yowled, frantically trying to right himself. A levitation charm.

"An unregistered Animagus dares to sneak into the Auror's Office? How brazen." Sebastian could hear the sneer in MC's voice.

He yowled again, desperate to revert back to his form and tell her it was him. He didn't need to say anything, however, when she shed her robe and approached him swiftly - a mocking look on her face. She grasped him by the scruff and released the levitation spell before painfully jabbing his side with her wand.

Sebastian had never been forcibly changed back before, but it was decidedly less than pleasant. The room felt incredibly cold now that he lacked both fur or clothes, and MC's robe fluttered over his now-bare form. He expected to look up and see her shocked face, but she had already made her way back to her desk, shuffling calmly through her reports. He gaped at her, drawing the warm fabric around him. It smelled like her.

"Well? Did you achieve whatever it was you snuck in here for?" She asked calmly, still not looking at him as she dipped her quill into an ink pot.

He stammered for a moment. Never in his life had he made such a complete ass of himself. Sitting in the middle of his wife's office and draped in nothing but a thin robe, it dawned on him just how far his jealousy had driven him.

"Cat got your tongue, dearest?" She quipped again, now looking at him severely.

Oh yes, she was angry. The slight downturn of her lips and the way her eyebrows creased ever so slightly warned him that he should tread carefully, but true to form Sebastian did not know the meaning of tact where his feelings were concerned.

"Awfully cozy with Brattleby all alone in your office, eh?" He inwardly cursed himself - the impact of his petulant accusation was immensely diminished by the fact that he was still stark naked under the witch's robe.

"Alone? You were here the whole time, weren't you? I thought you seemed rather cozy while you made yourself at home on my lap."

"You say that like you knew it was me - "

"Of course I knew it was you, Sebastian."

"What? How? Since when?" He was certain he'd been careful not to get caught.

"Since you walked into my department. You really believe I don't have charms set up everywhere to alert me of intruders? That I wouldn't catch on to your little schemes over the weeks - holding a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month? You really think I'm that ignorant?" She seethed indignantly, pressing down with her quill so hard that ink puddled out onto the paper, and she shoved the ruined report aside in frustration.

"I don't think you're ignorant at all. The real issue apparently lies in me overestimating my abilities." He said mournfully. "Why bother letting me carry on if you knew the whole time, though? You're so angry with me, I'm amazed you didn't hex me on the spot."

"Trust me, I was sorely tempted to do so. But, I wanted to see what you were up to. Snooping around my office and spying on a private conversation with my coworker - honestly, Sebastian, this has not been your proudest moment."

Burning with shame but still righteously indignant, he bitterly sought to defend himself. "Private conversation? Certainly sounded like you and Lucan had something to share with me. So go on - spit it out."

She sighed, sifting her fingers through her hair before shooting an exhausted look at Sebastian. She briefly reminded him of when he was a belligerent student, and Professor Sharp would give him the same tired look before doling out detention. He certainly felt just as small as he did then.

"If you'd paid attention to anything I've told you these past few weeks, you'd know that Lucan is desperately seeking to invite you out for a drink."

"What?"

"The poor boy's been hounding me for ages to pin you down for an evening before your teaching resumes. He and Nellie are engaged to be married in a few months time, and I expect he'd like to ask you to be a groomsman." She explained, exasperated.

"Who the hell is Nellie? And why would he want me in their wedding?" A rather dumbfounded Sebastian, brain fried and entirely missing the point, asked.

"Because Lucan Brattleby has fawned over you since his first year. He thinks the world of you, Sebastian - still does. I suspect he'd rather marry you than poor Nellie Oggspire - my dear roommate from Gryffindor if you care to recall." She hissed out, and Sebastian recoiled. "It's a wonder Lucan thinks so highly of you, considering how you've been behaving recently. Bet he'd die of shock on the spot if I told him you were jealous of him."

"J-jealous? Who said anything about that?" Sebastian sputtered, feeling shame and guilt settle firmly in his stomach. He'd been an imbecile.

"How long have we known each other? And you thought I couldn't tell?" 

"Then why did you keep ceaselessly droning on about him if you knew I was bothered?" He grumbled.

Scoffing, MC replied, "Because he's a dear friend who adores you, and I thought perhaps now that we're both quite a bit older you might have finally grown out of this ludicrous jealousy over me."

It was Sebastian's turn to scoff. "I am not a jealous man, MC. But perhaps I did overreact." 

"Overreacted like you did when I partnered with Garreth Weasley while you were sick during Potions class? Or how about when I went on that camping trip with Poppy Sweeting after graduation?" She began ticking off memories on her fingers. "Oh, and what about - "

"Alright, I get it. Perhaps I still have some work to do." He grumbled. "I apologize for troubling you. I suppose I owe Lucan an apology as well - and that drink. I had no idea he considered me such a good friend. You're right that this certainly wasn't my finest hour."

Shaking her head in disbelief, MC said, "No it was not. That said, I married you knowing full well this side of you would come out at times, and as much of a menace as you can be when you get all worked up, I still find it rather charming."

MC's chair scraped lightly on the wood floor as she pushed it back, stepping from behind her desk to approach her red-faced husband. He was still on the floor looking self-conscious, and she found it all the more endearing despite her earlier frustration with him. She knew him inside and out by now, and for all his bravado, she was intimately familiar with his many insecurities. They hadn't diminished with age - rather, he had simply gotten better at hiding them. She'd made it her mission to ease his worries over the years, but his most recent bout with jealousy had struck a serious nerve when he dared to call her competence into question. She figured he'd suffered enough now, and she ought to make amends with the sullen man rather than continue to punish him. 

"Darling, the only thing I am confident about right now is that I am the polar opposite of charming." He looked up at her bashfully from the floor.

Kneeling down next to him, she brushed a few stray brown curls from his forehead and pressed a kiss there, chuckling a bit at how hot his flustered face felt against her lips. "Who else can say they have a husband who would sneak into the Ministry of Magic's most secure office simply because he thinks his wife is too alluring to be left on her own?"

"Can't exactly blame me when it's true." He gave her a crooked grin and slid an arm up to cup her cheek in his palm. The robe he was using as a cover slid down his arm, exposing his toned shoulder, and MC shamelessly stared.

"And, I've received the added benefit of finding you in such a vulnerable position, while we're alone in my office." She bent down to whisper in his ear, delighting in the shiver she felt from him.

"I am feeling rather touch-starved after last night, you know." Sebastian confessed, returning her smile.

He allowed her to plant her palms on the floor on either side of him, caging him beneath her. Suddenly, the thin layer of cover provided by the robe felt stifling. 

"You came all this way, I suppose it would be cruel of me to let you leave empty-handed." The implication of her words left his mouth dry. All their years together, and she still had this effect on him.

Sebastian angled her face just so, and barely ghosted his lips across hers. "Perhaps you could let me burn those horrid old poems as well?"

Reeling back, MC stared at him - equal parts amused and apalled. "I'll do no such thing - I still read them each and every morning. However, I promise to lock them in my drawer if you find Lucan after we're through here."

"I'll do anything you ask of me if you'll just stop saying his name for one bloody day."

"I expect I'll only be saying your name for the rest of the afternoon, Sebastian." She winked, and he was ready to take her up on that. The robe slipped down and off his waist when he shot up, drawing a startled gasp from MC. Reversing their position, he pinned her beneath him, towering over her slight form on the floor.

“Are you absolutely certain this will work?” Sebastian asked skeptically, though truth be told, he'd be willing to bet it all on even the slimmest odds now.

He paced manically across the moonlit forest clearing, worrying his fingers through knotted, brown hair. 

“For the thousandth time this hour, Sebastian, no - I'm not certain of anything. But I'm willing to risk it if you are.” Lucy replied, her tone strained and terse.

Any other day, Sebastian might have felt a twinge of guilt at testing even her inhumane patience. Not now, though - now, he had a single-minded purpose, and grating his best friend's frayed nerves was the very lowest rung of his concerns.

Now, Anne was dead.

To hell with Lucy's feelings when he couldn't even think straight.

Anne's frail body, still lying stiff and cold in her bed back at Feldcroft after several botched attempts to preserve her life, and bring it back. No amount of ancient magic or necromancy helped, though. Anne's screams that entire day haunted Sebastian, and he and Lucy had spent the entire hellish nightmare of the past several hours pale-faced and frantic as they scrambled to try anything to salvage his twin’s waning life.

Bitter failure was all they'd managed, as well as worsening Anne's final moments. The ancient magic refused to cooperate, according to Lucy, and stubbornly wouldn't draw out Anne's curse the way she'd intended. It simply pulled and amplified Anne's agony.

Until her shrill screams stopped entirely.

And, mere moments after her final, labored breath, ever the pessimistic opportunist, Sebastian seamlessly began the gruesome necromancy ritual he'd memorized in anticipation of the likely chance their attempts came up short. Lucy had been rightfully horrified but, to his relief, remained silent while he wove a tapestry of forbidden incantations over Anne's corpse.

That, too, had failed.

Driven from the cottage in overwhelming grief, Sebastian hadn't even registered Lucy's panting and rapid footsteps trailing after him until they were deep within the Forbidden Forest. After unleashing a veritable torrent of violent hexes on the surrounding trees, he'd screamed himself hoarse and weeping amongst the newly splintered clearing.

Lucy, ever loyal, simply watched and waited, keeping delicate space and remaining silent while he came undone.

Then, after his wand finally clattered uselessly into the leaf litter, she spoke up with a murmured, “I have a plan.”

Which was how they'd wound up at present, stood grimly in the broken thicket while she detailed some loosely conjured idea, babbling about twisting time.

She'd seen something once - a fragment among Isidora's shattered memories left behind like a sinister trail of bread crumbs. Along with the ability to steal away the very essence of others, the ancient magic seemingly provided a rare talent to bend time to one's whims - with enough of it, at least. Or so was the running theory as Lucy babbled about a memory of a journal page she'd seen for just a split second a few months prior.

They'd run with it, testing the power as she delved into that strange source of magic inside her core. Sebastian previously questioned her decision to absorb that very same repository that had stolen old Fig's life, but now he was immeasurably grateful toward Lucy’s boundless impulsivity. Hours well into the night, she warped the world around them, bending reality as if it were just another spell.

She was a marvel of a witch in her own right, but even Sebastian knew to be cowed by such a feat.

Still, he was not above abusing it for Anne's sake.

At first, they'd discussed logistics and how far she ought to push themselves back - or rather, how far could she even send them?

Though they'd tinkered and bickered for probably twelve hours straight, exhausted and dehydrated and filthy in those woods, it was still not even sunrise as she'd brought them back to the middle of the night once more.

Panting ragged from the exertion, Sebastian felt a hint of worry for Lucy begin to bubble up, and the toll this all might take on her body.

But then, he shoved that down as a flash of Anne's greying frame on the bed grounded him back to their goal - his goal.

Lucy was strong, and she'd be just fine.

But a lingering worry betrayed his resolve, as he noticed for the very first time that she winced with each fresh attempt. When questioned, Lucy denied any discomfort, claiming fatigue, but nothing more nefarious.

That bizarre power of hers seemed stronger than ever, radiating tendrils so potent even he was beginning to see them.

She would be fine.

“Just do it already. Back as far as you can - before she was cursed, even.” Sebastian urged, exhaustion compounding his desperation.

Lucy's features knitted together in concern, and he could see her on the brink of tears - a rare expression for someone so unflappable. Readying himself for her to argue, Sebastian had dozens of rebuttals at the tip of his tongue in case she protested.

She looked like she might, but, to his immense relief, Lucy bit back whatever unspoken concerns she held and simply did as she always would.

She sighed and nodded.

Loyal.

His favorite trait about the Gryffindor.

Her devotion to him above all others.

It irked him at times how self-sacrificing she could be, but he was guilty as sin when it came to treating her like any other pawn in his schemes. Anything for Anne had been his mantra, and Lucy, with her heart of gold, fit perfectly into every plan because she was always so pliant for him.

Of course, he felt the crushing weight of all the harm he'd inflicted on her over the past year - he wasn't ignorant to how he took advantage of her kindness and feelings.

He wasn't blind to the fact that she so painfully loved him.

Perhaps he'd love her back just as fiercely, had he the capacity for such things. As it stood, however, sentimentality was a luxury Sebastian couldn't afford when Anne's life hung in the balance.

Still, while he couldn't reciprocate in the way he knew she'd not-so-secretly been pining for, he owed her for her steadfast friendship, and he wanted to show her some semblance of the affection he couldn't allow himself to feel for her.

So there, at the end of it all, while they teetered on the precipice of altering absolutely everything in the most reckless way imaginable, Sebastian took her hand in his.

She was so cold from all their hours in the night-chilled forest, and his heart ached for a moment.

Lucy was a slight thing, like Anne, and she was still just a girl. Truly, she'd been dragged through hell and back in the span of a few months. This would be the last time, though.

For Anne, he'd bear the weight of one more sin and put Lucy through a final trial.

Sharp green eyes met his, silently pleading for a change of heart, like she was some wounded, cornered animal who knew her very existence was about to be extinguished. She fought it back valiantly, though, and still opted not to voice her dissent.

Merlin, did he appreciate her for indulging every selfish, twisted request he'd ever made.

“I promise you, Luce, this is it. This will fix everything. If this works, there won't even be a curse to cure, right?” He assured her, intertwining their fingers as he peered down at her disheveled form in the sparse moonlight.

Manipulative? Certainly. But she was a bright enough witch to be fully aware of the game they'd been dancing around all year. Willfully fooling herself into believing it was just one last thing before they could settle into a more comfortable relationship - one without all the pretense and stipulations.

He'd watched her wistfully stare after other students on dates in Hogsmeade while she and Sebastian ran themselves ragged, scouring the highlands for answers. The closest he'd been able to offer her by way of romance had been dueling by her side when they encountered violence rather than cures.

Now, she stood before him once more, trepidation bleeding from her very being.

“I promise.” Sebastian repeated in earnest.

He hoped he meant it.

Regardless, she swallowed the lie with the ease of pumpkin juice and nodded once more.

“I trust you. This will work.” Came her immediate reply.

I trust you.

Fuck, he hated the way that truth rolled off her tongue so revenrently.

If he wasn't so hell-bent on using her for that monstrous magic, he'd be screaming his throat raw at her for being so bloody stupid - and for what? He offered nothing but more suffering.

Hell, she barely even knew Anne.

He'd allow Lucy to sacrifice herself once more for his aspirations though, and he truly did hope it would be the very last time he'd have to impose in such a way that made her look like that. Almost half as desperately as he wanted things righted for Anne, he'd place his desires for Lucy to live a good life right after that when it came to his priorities.

If things worked, and they made it back as planned, perhaps he could endeavor to atone for everything he'd put her through and give her that proper Hogwarts welcome he'd once boasted, back before it all went to shit.

“Once Anne's better, I'll come sweep you off your feet, hm? Take you out for a butterbeer?” Sebastian offered weakly, drawing that pretty blush to her cheeks while she sputtered out some protesting nonsense.

Lucy's girlish bashfulness was such a stark contrast to the severity of their predicament that it'd almost be adorable, were his sister not freshly dead just across the valley.

Sebastian steeled his resolve and squeezed her hand once more.

“Please, for Anne - for me?” 

“Y-yeah.” She swallowed thickly and answered him, a half-hearted smile tugging her lips into more of a grimace. “Just… let me work my magic, I suppose.”

Sebastian rewarded her efforts to ease the tension with a hollow laugh.

With great reluctance, he pulled his hand from hers and waited, expectant and heart pounding.

There were so many ways this could turn into a catastrophic disaster, so many ways they could make everything inexplicably worse. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on that, though - not with the faintest glimmer of hope for saving Anne peeking through the shroud of uncertainty.

The familiar prickling sensation of her magic surged forth once more, more overwhelming than he'd ever felt it.

Still, it grew exponentially, and what was once her comforting magic morphed into an entirely different beast - for the first time, Sebastian felt fear. 

For himself, for her, for the havoc this would undoubtedly wreak on everyone else.

But it was for Anne.

He'd burn the world for his twin - she was all that mattered. Everything and everyone else was ancillary to his duties as a brother.

Sebastian felt his resolve crack right down the middle, however, when Lucy's voice, shaken and barely audible of the thrum of power engulfing them, brought with it a wave of foreboding nausea.

“I really did love you, you know.”

She sounded so defeated, so lost, that it shattered his confidence in their plan, but the air was sucked from his lungs before he could even think to reply - to tell her to stop and they'd find another way. Hell, he couldn't even scream as the air around them was like a void.

It was all so different from their prior attempts - volatile and viscerally wrong.

Tendrils, blue and grey and horrifying, rooted him in place so he couldn't even reach out to her to try and console her in those final moments - to ease his own mounting terror at what was becoming glaringly obvious was a fatal error.

When he felt he might very well black out from the ferocity of blinding energy tossing around them like a maelstrom, Sebastian found himself giving in to the sensation.

Then, he sat bolt upright, gasping and sweating and blinking against the darkness as he choked in greedy gulps of air at last.

“Stay in bed - I heard it, too. I'll take a look and be right back.”

Distinctly not Lucy's lilted voice - but Anne's.

The memory swam into his addled mind as Sebastian grasped for his sanity and any semblance of grounding in that moment, churning through his muddled consciousness for words while he tried to remember how to breathe.

He still struggled to breathe, rasping through his mucus-laden lungs.

The night Anne had gone out to inspect the ruins when Solomon had been late returning back from helping out a friend at a neighboring hamlet, he'd been laid up with a summer cold.

Anne's words rang back to the forefront as the door to the cottage opened, and Sebastian stumbled out of his bed in desperation, hacking and gasping as he frantically tried to untangle his legs from the damned sweat-soaked bedsheets he'd been lying under.

He could fuss over Lucy later - for now, this was precisely the pivotal moment he'd needed to reach, and the only thing he could afford to focus on was not letting Anne out that door.

But he couldn't speak, couldn't stand - the illness made him weak, and a brutal coughing fit tore through his aching lungs.

None of it mattered, apparently, as Anne swiftly bounded back across the cottage to fetch her pitiful brother from the wooden floor with a long-suffering sigh.

“I wish Uncle was home - you don't seem to be getting better. I think it's about time to call the Healer.” She tutted, helping him back up to the bed.

Sebastian had never been more thankful in his life for inheriting his father's utterly shit immune system because he knew Anne would never leave him alone in the thick of his illness like this.

“T-tea, please.” He managed pathetically, and while he was determined to keep her occupied in the cottage rather than exploring Ashwinder-infested ruins, at least it wasn't entirely an act.

Anne peered down at him with a concerned frown, her brown eyes flickering back to the door outside of which faint shouts could still be heard, but after he'd coughed and groaned a handful more times, she resigned herself to the role of caretaker over explorer, and Sebastian knew he'd been victorious in his efforts.

She padded back across their home, shutting the front door before heading to the kitchen to heat the kettle.

“Don't try to get up again. Our uncle will be back shortly, and then I'll send the old bastard right back out to fetch the Healer from Hogsmeade.” She called out from the other side of the cottage, the sound of dishes clattering and water pouring soothing him.

“Y-yes, Anne.” He tried to reply, but his voice cracked uselessly.

“And stop trying to speak. You're making my throat ache just listening to you. Merlin, you're as useless as a lame flobberworm.” She barked back, disgruntled.

The insult warmed him because she said it with such fire.

Sebastian knew Anne stood in that very same building, alive and well.

It worked.

All the heartache and blood were worth it because there she was. All they had to do was make it through the night without her stepping foot in those filthy ruins, and she'd get to experience life as it was meant to be.

Sebastian leaned back into his pillows with a smile.

And then he wept.

Never in his life had he felt such relief.

Even as Anne chided him for his weakness while she helped him sip his tea, complaining that he was the ugliest crier she'd ever met and it made his face look even fatter, he simply agreed with her and grinned like an idiot.

And later that evening, as Solomon entered the door only to be ushered right back out for medicine, he let himself relax.

The Aurors were coming to investigate the disturbance up the hill rather than his teenage sister, his uncle was alive and not nearly so much of a bastard yet, and Anne was by his side, lively and bright.

He cast a thought for Lucy while they waited for their uncle's return. Probably just as disoriented as he was, Sebastian couldn't actually recall her ever saying much about her home life in all their time together. He wondered, idly, if she returned safely back to her family.

Maybe she'd show up on their doorstep in Feldcroft the next morning to see if their insane plan actually came to fruition - he couldn't wait to show her just how worth it everything had been.

How far her efforts had gotten them.

Brimming with excitement over how she'd finally see Anne in her prime, the way he knew she'd love her, he mused over how he might spend a lifetime expressing his gratitude to Lucy for the priceless gift she'd given his family.

“The ER just called. They have a patient the need a draw on. Room 6.” Sebastian’s coworker handed him the orders and he looked them over.

“Alright. I’ll go get it. Be back in a bit”

He grabbed his kit, walked out the lab door, and started towards the Emergency Department. Putting the list of tubes he would need in his head, even though he knew he was gonna draw an entire rainbow since it was the ER.

Sebastian put the code into the door, with a beep it unlocked and he pushed it open, crossing the threshold into the busy department. Machines beeping, nurses coming in and out the different rooms.

Sebastian knocked on the door of room 6. Opening it with “Hi, my name is Sebastian. I’m from the lab; I’m here to get some blood, okay?”

He set his kit down on a nearby tray table, grabbed a pair of gloves then asked the patient to verify their full name and date of birth.

“Garreth Weasley, 12/21/98”

Sebastian clicked his tongue in affirmation and placed the order back in the table and began prepping his supplies.

Gauze, alcohol pad, tourniquet, needle, hub, and of course - the tubes.

“Alright Garreth. Which arm is your IV in?” In response the ginger on the bed raised his right arm to show the IV.

“Cool. Then I’m gonna take a look at this other one.” Sebastian pulled up the little roller stool and quickly put of a pair of gloves.

“How come you gotta poke me again?”

“I’m not allowed to touch the IV, and they don’t want to risk messing it up by drawing from it right now; so they called me in to get some blood. It’ll only be a quick poke.” Sebastian spoke in his ‘professional medical voice’ and looked up at the patient, reaffirming him.

Sebastian began tying the tourniquet on Garreth’s left arm, about four fingers above the puncture site. “This is gonna be kinda tight and pinchy”

The ginger only gave a quick nod. Muscles in his jaw tensing.

“So. Aside from the obvious, how are you feeling?”

“You mean aside from the fact that I’m in the ER? Well, there’s definitely other things that I’d rather be doing with my day.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh at that answer, despite having heard it many times in the past.

“Understandable. Alright, so you’ve got a nice one right here.” Sebastian poked along his discovered vein, feeling it out for where best to poke and at what angle.

He wiped the area clean, anchored the vein, and poked.

Garreth flinched a little at the initial poke but relaxed once the needle had settled. The patient watched, intrigued, as Sebastian filled and switched out the tubes.

Tourniquet popped, final tube full and removed from the hub; Sebastian pulled out the needle, safetied it while the other hand applied gauze and pressure to the puncture site.

Sebastian inverted the tubes then wrapped the coban around Garreth’s arm.

“Alright. I’m all finished here” Sebastian took note of the time; 1427. He timed and initialed the labels, placing them onto the tubes, grabbed his kit, and left the room.

Sebastian spotted a young woman, looked about his same age, grabbing a biohazard bag with some ice. “Hey, can you grab and fill a bio bag for me, too?”

She looked over at him a nodded; grabbing a second one. He spoke as he approached her. “You’re one of the new ER techs, right?”

She smiled up at him. “Yep! The name is Poppy!”

“Very nice to meet you, Poppy. I’m Sebastian. What were you doing before this?” A light bit of conversation as they but their respective specimens away.

“Oh. I was a vet tech before I came over there.” She laughed lightly. “It’s was way too easy to get attached to the animal patients, so I knew I’d do better emotionally dealing with people.”

Which was a fair assumption. It was much easier not to get attached to patients when you didn’t see them often, and they were people.

Sebastian nodded. “That’s really cool. Anyway, I better get these back to the lab, but I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, oh and can you take these with you?” She handed him the bio bag she had filled. “It’s blood on the patient in room 8. Thank you!”

She practically hopped away, pep in her step all the way down the hall.

The midday sun blazed, grass beneath your shoes crunching, scorched to a crisp. Early Summer had brought with it an unseasonable heatwave, such that the air grew stifling and stagnant like a swamp. What scant shade was produced by the nearby brutalist concrete structures which housed your university’s young hopefuls had been gobbled up by enthusiastic spectators, huddled together with expressions of possessive ire, fearful that they might lose their prime positions. You walked on towards the front of the stands where the heat was at its most intense yet afforded you the best view; it would be worth it, after all. 

If you were suffering simply sauntering by, Garreth must have been sweltering in that stuffy changing room—you'd had enough after-practice rendezvous to know just how thick the air could get, mingled with sweat and shower vapours and the heady scent of sex. But despite the uncomfortable heat, you would never dream of missing a match for two very important reasons: the first, that showing your unwavering support of your boyfriend in his endeavours boosted his morale immeasurably; the second, that Garreth looked so unintentionally tantalising when he played that the whole eighty minutes was akin to watching an exotic dance performance, with more bruises and aggression that only added to the allure.   

The boys were already on the pitch warming up by the time you sat down, all clad in red shorts and vests emblazoned with the uni logo that left little to the imagination. You caught a number of groups of giggling girls in the stands blatantly pointing and ogling; irritating, yes, but Garreth saw you and waved enthusiastically, unperturbed by all the attention he was drawing. One could never be too smug in such a situation, and so you flashed him a toothy smile in return.

He knelt in the grass as he adjusted his ridiculous hairband (that you teased him about endlessly), stretching out his adductors with a concentration befitting a professional. For all your idle fascination with his thighs, he was a dedicated sportsman through and through. He took his rugby career seriously, throwing as much energy into training as his actual degree, whilst endlessly hoping to be scouted by one of the union clubs. The other lads had similar aspirations—it was surely the only reason they'd be out here in this absolute furnace for a friendly game. 

You fanned yourself with a leaflet you found in your bag, chugging water as you waited for the game to start. The crowd was already starting to get restless as the stands filled and all around you many of the spectators made it clear that they weren't here for the sport.

“That ginger one's fit,” a young blonde said, followed by a fit of giggles.

You held back the urge to chuck your plastic bottle at her head, thankfully distracted by the referee's appearance onto the pitch. With a lurch of your stomach, you saw that he was in conversation with a young woman with the telltale lanyard and clipboard of a club professional. Of course they would be scouting on today of all days, the blistering heat weeding out the weakest players with subpar endurance. Garreth had noticed her too, nudging his teammates as shock and awe passed over their faces one by one. 

The rest of the team melted away as you kept your eyes on Garreth, taking up his position behind the scrum. This was generally when you started to feel the prickle of excitement and nerves as the teams eyed each other up and the field fell silent, waiting for the whistle.

As soon as play started, all hell broke loose. Garreth played with such focus and ferocity, entirely the opposite to his laidback and cheerful self off the pitch. He directed his team without hesitation, attacking more aggressively than usual, always driving forward. By half-time his team were leading by ten points. You could already see a tear in Garreth’s shirt, dust caking his knees and a smile between his pink cheeks, but the heat was starting to sap the energy of every player as they panted and stretched in what little shade they could find.

When play resumed, only the presence of the club scout could explain the carnage that ensued. The game was so incredibly vicious, the contact between bodies so intense that the crowds erupted in hisses and roars so innumerable they blended into a singular jarring uproar.

Hands grasped at shorts, wrapped around waists and heads buried between muscular thighs as the clash ensued, a ferocious battle that you couldn’t help but find erotic.

Garreth held the ball in the final few minutes of the match, and he decided to make a run for it. The scrum of bodies was still but a flailing mess as he sprinted around and launched the ball back at his mate in the wing; back and forth it went, attacks from every side until finally Garreth found himself curled on the grass, the final try before a shrill whistle ended the game and the crowds erupted.

You were shouting and clapping with the rest of them as the players exchanged handshakes, the euphoria practically oozing from every pore. Garreth was in your eyeline, but he was the subject of many other hungry gazes, including the young woman with the lanyard. They shook hands and talked, Garreth beaming all the while as a swell of pride bloomed large in your chest. But the blonde you’d instantly taken a dislike to was weaving her way through the crowds, muttering something to her friend as they linked arms. You decided to follow whilst keeping those distant copper curls in your sights.

The friend was asking blondie a question, making a show of leaning in in some conspiratorial manner. “Do you think he’s got a girlfriend?” 

“Don’t know, don’t care. I don’t see one, do you? He’s probably gagging for it after that game.”

You almost laughed at her crassness, inching closer towards her as she teetered along in ridiculous heels that sank into the dusty ground. She smoothed her hair, and Garreth finally looked in your direction, finished with his conversation. She must have thought he was looking at her as she gave a small wave and the girls devolved into more giggles as Garreth smiled back with an adorable head tilt of confusion. You should have said something, but the scene was far too amusing, and so you hung back, listening to blondie use her best flirtatious purr at your boyfriend.

“You were amazing. Could I get your autograph?”

You couldn’t help it—you snorted with laughter. Garreth blinked and grinned like a cheshire cat, looking over blondie’s shoulder at you with an expression that screamed ‘help me’. It was about time you put a stop to this charade. Overtaking the pair at a jog, you flew into Garreth’s arms, his emerald eyes only for you, and his lips finding yours with a relieved sigh. You heard the scoffs and disappointed huffs that only made his kiss sweeter, the wolf whistles that ensued when his tongue slipped eagerly into your mouth.

Perhaps she’d been right; he probably was gagging for it, given the intensity of the match and the proceeding victory. Garreth held you firm against his sweaty skin even as you broke apart, still smiling, but now his eyes thoroughly smouldered—a look you knew all too well. It tugged at your chest and something writhed, hot and insistent, low in your abdomen; the tingle of arousal you’d felt the moment you laid eyes on him now a barely contained flame.

There was no point in being subtle in your intentions. You took his hand from your waist, dragging him through the thinning crowds to the first private place your mind had sprung to. 

“You’re eager. Where are you taking me?” he asked, unable to keep the sheer joy from his voice.

You turned to tug his drenched vest, a voiceless hint at urgency. As you turned a corner behind the back of the changing rooms, a small alleyway led out into a private car park. Your car sat inconspicuously in the corner in the shade of a towering oak tree, far from the distant spectators, still chanting in jubilation.

“I’m guessing you’re not going to drive us back to my dorm,” Garreth teased, grabbing a handful of your behind as you came to a stop next to the vehicle. 

“No, I’m not sitting in traffic when I could be—”

You were promptly spun around and pulled in for another kiss, your response muffled into a pleased moan. Fumbling for your car keys whilst Garreth fumbled with your breasts, you heard the click of the lock and flung open the back passenger side door, diving across the seats with a giddy laugh. You gave the car park a cursory sweep but it was still quiet and empty. 

Garreth climbed in after you, a much harder feat given his size, clambering on top of you as soon as the door shut. Your lips were glued, tongues dancing over each other. Garreth's weight felt good on top of you, even more so the thigh he'd slid between your legs. Corded muscle pressed against your heat, firm and solid. Your hips rose to meet him, shamelessly seeking friction to relieve the ache between your legs. He helped you along the way, pulling your hips to grind harder into his thigh. He must have felt how wet you were already, underwear soaked through to his skin.

You needed more than just his leg, as deliciously thick as they were, but Garreth was far too tall for the back seats to do much of anything in that horizontal position. You urged him backwards, and he got the idea soon enough, inching back to sit upright. You wasted no time climbing onto his lap, straddling his thighs as the muscles twitched from exertion, wrapping your arms around his wide shoulders as you looked at him—really looked at him, now that you had the time. He was smiling of course, glowing almost; eyes tracing down the curve of your neck with a predatory lick of his lips. You wiped a white smudge of sunscreen from his cheeks and finally pulled off his hairband, letting the copper curls fall freely over his sun kissed freckles. Then you pressed your lips to his, without inhibition, and the flood gates opened.

Garreth groaned at your exuberance, fingers grasping eagerly at your flimsy vest top that peeled away from heated skin with a mere suggestion. He didn’t stop there, apparently desperate to see you completely bare in the back of your car with no regard for the consequences. Perhaps it was the sweltering heat that urged him onwards, the cracked window doing little to help. What little layers clothed you came off, his lips and hands trailing silent love letters to every peak and crevice. He nibbled at the nape of your neck as your face buried in his hair, the scent of him drawing out your own tongue; he shuddered as you laved at his ear, the skin salty from sweat.

“Is this all because I caught the attention of that scout or are we celebrating something else?” he murmured into your ear, making you shudder as his breath caressed your skin.

You were down to just your knickers now whilst Garreth still wore his shorts, the thin fabric leaving no doubt as to how much he was enjoying the attention. The playing field wasn't quite even. 

“That, and I want to make it perfectly clear that you're well and truly mine.”

He chuckled and lifted his hips as you slid off his lap to tug down his shorts. “There's nobody else here, babe.”

“Well they can imagine where I dragged you off to.”

His underwear peeled off with them, the rolled fabric falling to the footwell with a gentle thump. You weren't paying the slightest bit of attention to where any item of clothing had ended up when Garreth sat entirely naked in front of you. He looked rather pleased with himself, stretched out in what little space there was with his arms behind his head and his heavy cock laying proud across his abdomen. 

You just about suppressed a groan as you dipped your head, much to his surprise, bracing your hand on his thigh as you took him into your mouth without a second thought. Garreth gasped and swore, fingers winding their way into your hair from the first teasing lick. His scent was heavy, musky, but by no means unpleasant, and the salt on your tongue tasted like victory. His girth filled your mouth, every moan stifled somewhere deep in your throat. 

“Fuck, fuck…” Garreth whispered, his voice hoarse and laced with desire.

You kept a steady rhythm with a hand firmly planted at the back of your head whilst the other roamed the bare expanse of your skin—tracing the contours of your back with a featherlight touch that belied his complete loss of control. His hips snapped up to meet your mouth, almost choking you in the process.

“Babe, I'm gonna come if you keep this up.”

With a final firm lick up the length of him, your mouth left his cock swollen and twitching against his stomach once again. You smiled up at him, hair mussed and a faint sheen of sweat beginning to form across your body. 

“Don't you dare.”

“Come here then,” he grinned, tapping his leg whilst simultaneously manhandling you on top of him.

Garreth buried his face against your chest, groaning into the flesh, ready to devour. You played idly with his fiery curls in a blissful haze as his tongue flicked and twirled around your nipples; teeth grazed those sensitive peaks and you toed the line between exquisite pleasure and pain. You pulled at his hair in response, his ensuing moans causing a ripple of arousal, a flutter deep in your very core.

“Gar…”

His name sighed so sultrily seemed to spark something in him. Strong hands gripped your waist and pulled you against his broad chest, holding you firm, and before you could question a thing he brought you down on his cock. He impaled you in one swift motion, leaving you breathless with the sudden fullness. Your mouth fell open in shock, clinging to him so tightly a more fragile man might have broken. But he didn't shatter, not even as your nails raked his skin and drew blood. His teeth nipped at your neck, the familiar sting of fresh bruises blooming.

Your hips moved of their own accord, slowly at first but growing more insistent. One drawback to being crammed into your car was that your head bumped on the roof the more enthusiastic you were bouncing. 

“Fucking…car…” 

Laughing at the ridiculousness but still frustrated you slowed your pace and leaned back, rolling your hips until you found that sweet spot. Your moans entwined in the muggy air, a blissful delirium taking over. Garreth's head fell back against the headrest but still his eyes lingered on you, lidded and full of hunger as they flitted across bare swathes of skin to meet your own gaze. His hand cupped your arse, squeezing in rhythm to your movements whilst the other trailed a path down your waist to your hips, his thumb pressing firm against your clit.

A great swell of relief, pleasure flooding every extremity until your body threatened to fall apart under his digit’s tight circles. You looked at him so deep in concentration whilst he brought you to the edge, licking his lips in anticipation as your legs started to shake. 

“Are you going to be a good girl and come for me?” he teased. 

You could only manage to stutter a ‘yes’ before the coiling tension snapped and launched a thrilling cascade of pleasure through your already limp body. You fell against Garreth, his arms ready to catch you as you rode out your orgasm, muttering sweet nothings in your ear. Tangled in his hair, whimpering until the last wave.

He was still buried inside you as you stilled, so very tired but still wet and willing. You felt the twitch of his cock, his steadily thrusting hips that yearned for more. Your own legs quaked as you adjusted yourself, ready to start your gentle rocking once again, but Garreth had other ideas.

Eyes glittering and practically feral, they bore into you with such intensity it made your heart skip a beat. He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger—as if you needed to be guided to look at him—and he smiled at your blissfully dazed expression, satisfied that he'd done his job.

“Let me take over, okay?”

Garreth didn't wait for your assent, pulling you in for a searing kiss, his arm locking around your waist. You were pinned against him, sweat-slick skin pressed hot together. You expected him to flip you over, struggle around on the tiny back seats, but instead he lifted you off him, until only the very tip of his cock remained nestled inside your heat.

You whined at the loss of him, grasping at his hair. 

“What—”

His answer came with a hard thrust from below. He held you tight, hovering just inches above his lap as he drove his cock inside you again and again. It was beyond comprehension how he had enough energy after his match to fuck you so hard, but he was absolutely relentless in chasing his release. Moans, whimpers and the wet slap of skin created a deafening cacophony. You tried to form a coherent plea, but it was swallowed by Garreth's greedy kisses, his tongue delving deep into your mouth.

“Ha-...harder,” you managed to sigh against his lips.

“Harder? God, you're such a fucking greedy girl.”

You grinned deliriously as Garreth laced his fingers into your hair and did exactly as you asked. His pace was brutal, and so deliciously bruising; Garreth fucked as rough as he played rugby, if you so asked for it. 

His breath was starting to falter, you felt the hitch against his chest and the sharp intakes of air as he stole your very oxygen. He was close, so close.

“Gonna come for me?” You echoed his earlier tease.

“Mmmh-...gonna fill you up.” 

You whined into his mouth, walls fluttering around his cock as you felt another orgasm mounting. Garreth moaned louder now, squeezing his eyes shut, his mouth delving against your neck to leave yet more love bites in the throes of passion. They would remind you of this very moment, such treasured momentos. As he drew your skin between his teeth, your orgasm hit, and so did his.

You fell into his lap in a heap as he lost control of his limbs, cock pulsing and filling you with hot ropes of his release. His muscles twitched and body shuddered, the suction on your neck abating until his head fell back.

He was beautiful this way—mouth agape with kiss-swollen lips of cherry red, the flush of his skin a delicate rose beneath smatterings of freckles. His eyelids fluttered over mossy irises, glittering and unfocused in his fucked-out daze. The corners of his mouth curved into a smirk as his body finally relaxed, every last drop of energy spent. His release had filled you so completely, but you didn't squirm, only relished the way it felt dripping down your thighs.

“Congratulations, Gar,” you said with a breathless giggle, laying your head against his shoulder.

Garreth kissed your head and stroked your hair, so gentle in contrast to how he'd been only seconds before that spoke volumes of his love for you. His embrace was safety and happiness.