persephone.

There were three things you hate about sneaking for a quickie in the utility closet: One, the chemicals always make you smell like industrial-grade disinfectant. Not in a clean, fresh way, but more like in a toxic fumes kind of way. Two, the sheer lack of space—the cramped quarters mean you're always pressed against something hard and uncomfortable. And three, it’s a fucking utility closet. You’re not supposed to like it in the slightest.

On the marginally brighter side of things, it’s in the dungeon. People barely come through so privacy was never really an issue. No one bothered you over the loud pounding or stuff falling over the shelves. Plus, you get to scream names as loud as you want to and Sebastian loves it when you do. 

And the grunts he made when you grabbed his hair or dug your nails into his skin or when he reached his climax, he got to let it go as loud as he wanted, too. That’s your favourite part. 

He trailed kisses on your bare shoulder while his thumb caressed your thigh as he was still propping you up against the shelf.

“You never disappoint.” His voice came out husky, his throat probably dry from all of the panting and moaning.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as his kisses lingered. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a satisfied sigh as his touch made your pulse even quicker, “Oh? Is that because you set your expectations low?”

He chuckled and you could feel his body vibrating against yours, “Maybe. But you’ve exceeded them every time.”

He slowly pulled out of you and set you down gently. Bending down, he rummaged through the pile of clothes on the floor, found his wand, and gave it a quick flick to clean up the mess. You don’t usually relish the after-sex moments, because most of the time there weren’t any. 

You both began gathering your clothes.

The two of you weren’t anything official—just friends with benefits, and that’s how it’s always been. Your meetups usually end in quickies, everything fast and fleeting. But honestly, you didn’t mind. He’s hot and undoubtedly amazing at sex, what more could a girl ask for? You enjoyed the physical intimacy as much as he did, and you’re not looking for anything more that might complicate or ruin what you already have.

Your first meet-up happened at the start of sixth year. Though rather than a meet-up, it was more of an accident. At least that’s what the two of you used to call it the first time it happened. It was a party, you both had a lot of firewhiskey, and when he grabbed your face and kissed the life out of you, the next thing you knew, you were pressed up against the cold tile of the girls' bathroom and your mouth was screaming praises of his name like he was a God.

Sure, you could call it that the first time. But when you set up a second meet-up, you called it research purposes—figuring out where you both stood on the whole thing. And by the third time, it turned into a full-blown compulsion.

Now, a year and countless of sex later, you’re still hooked on that compulsion.

“I’ll see you tomorrow after Herbology?” He casually asked. 

“Oof, I can’t. I’ve got to do my Astronomy group paper with Amit.”

He let out a small, exaggerated groan and zipped up his trousers before stepping forward “Again? The guy has cockblocked me three times this week.” 

“At least we’re almost finished with ours. You and Tugwood barely did anything.” You bent down to grab your shirt from the floor.

“What can I say? The stars aren’t as interesting as our utility closet sessions.”

“You’ve got to stay focused, Sebastian. It’s our final year.” Your tone was a bit firm but your eyes were relishing the final seconds before the fabric of his clothes hid the well-sculpted body.

“Oh, I am focused.” He gave you the same look as you button your shirt top down, “You see how I don’t share my time with anyone else?” 

“I’m not trying to fuck up my grades. I’ve got plans for the future. Besides, you’re getting your share of my time. Just not tomorrow.” You threw him a teasing look. If you weren’t chased by the time you wouldn’t mind going for a second round.

Sebastian slid his hands to your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer, “I’ve got plans, too, you know?”

You snorted, pushing him playfully but letting your hands rest on his chest, “I’m quite sure snogging in the utility closet for the whole year does not constitute a good plan.”

“Well, what I’ve got in mind is a little less industrial and a lot more comfortable.” He smirked, “We’re long due for an upgrade.”

Sebastian’s charming. Maybe too charming for his own good. It could get him out of trouble as much as it could land him into it. He had that easy confidence, the sort that made you want to both smile and roll your eyes at the same time.

“Does this upgrade include sneaking into each others’ dorms?” You sounded half-amused, half-incredulous, “Because getting caught could lead to some very awkward conversations— one that I am not sure I’d want to have with Professor Black.”

“But a bed is infinitely better than balancing on a shelf while broomsticks clatter around us.” He argued and deep down you couldn’t disagree. Especially when every breath you took just seemed to increase your risk of breathing in those toxic fumes and ending up with a case of poisoning.

“We’re not supposed to be on each other’s beds anyway, remember?” 

He shrugged, completely unfazed. “Says who?”

“Uh, Hogwarts?” You shot him a knowing look, “And last I checked, the rules haven’t changed. Plus, there’s the whole deal we made—keeping things casual.”

“Yeah, casual. Doesn’t mean we can’t upgrade our accommodations. Casual relationships can still have sex on a bed.”

“Of course they can. But sneaking into each other’s dorms, in case you forgot, tends to get people in trouble. Like, expelled-level trouble.”

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering near your ear. “Trouble’s half the fun, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t just about getting caught by a prefect or a professor. Sneaking around like that carried a different weight. If it were something serious between you two, something real, maybe the risk would feel worth it. But for a fling? For something casual, without any real strings attached? That kind of gamble felt a bit too reckless.

You weren’t ready to risk so much for something that wasn’t serious.

You pushed him away for real this time before he hooked you in too deep and the lust made it too difficult to get him off of you again, “I’m not afraid of trouble, I’m just not an idiot. Now let’s go before we miss dinner.”

The Great Hall wasn’t usually filled with house elves during a meal. Unless there’s an event coming up then they would be elbow-deep in decorating. This time it’s Christmas Ball—the first one ever. Professor Weasely wanted the students to have something before the break and you got a reason to play dress up. It’s a nice little distraction from the big N.E.W.Ts coming up. The hall never looked so alive even with its constant occupancy with hundreds of students.

Tonight’s menu: roast. No meal time ever disappoints around Hogwarts. The house elves are magical for a reason and that reason was their tiny God-given enchanting hands that are made to satisfy your belly. 

So, no meal time ever disappoints. Unless something managed to find a way to bug you—or someone. This time it’s your own beloved booty call.

The brunette casually slid into a spot next to you as you were busy feeding your mouth.

“Keen for another round after dinner?” He was leaning a little bit too close with that charming smirk plastered on his face. 

“I’m eating.” Your reply was muffled by a mouthful of roast.

“I said after.” and then he leaned closer and whispered, “Unless you’re open for during.”

“I’m going to stab you with this dull knife.” You meant your words a little bit, but he only bit his lip and his smirk grew wider. That cheeky little git.

“What do you say?”

“I’ve got a meeting with Professor Weasley to go over my grades and figure out what options I have after Hogwarts.”

And there went that exaggerated groan again, “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you answered, “You might want to do the same. It’s a good thing to know where you’re headed after all.”

“I know where I’m headed.” he quipped, “To the utility closet. With you.”

“Sebastian Sallow, the hopeless romantic.” You teased, “Snogging between mops and cleaning supplies. Really living the dream, aren’t you?”

He grinned, “I’m a simple man with a simple need.”

You know you’re having a lot of fun with Sebastian. Sneaking around and satisfying each others’ biological needs did enrich your relationship. But behind all that, he was still your best friend. You watched him almost fucked up his life once, you’re not really keen on watching him pursuing another such attempt.

Deep down, you cared about him. A lot. In whatever way you’re allowing yourself to.

“You know it’s not such a terrible thing, right?” You kept your tone as casual as possible while shoving another roast into your mouth, “To dream a little. We’re not going to be inside that utility closet forever. You can aim a little higher.”

“I did aim higher. I offered a bed.”

“You offered a nuisance.” You plainly said and he scoffed, “Just start somewhere. I’m going to be busy.”

He sighed and casually grabbed some chips from your plate, “Fine. I guess my cock can take a break for one night since you’ll be busy with Thakkar tomorrow.”

“Actually—Two nights.” You quickly shot back, “Dress shopping with Poppy the night after.”

You expected another exaggerated child-like reaction from the brunette but he was uncharacteristically quiet about it. You tried to give him a couple of more seconds, but it was getting weird.

“Are you alright?”

He shifted in his seat, “Dress?”

Your eyes narrowed at the offbeat question while your silverware-holding hands waved in the air to point out the decorations that were an obvious explanation to what you meant.

“Oh.” He simply said, “So you’re going to the Ball then?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He pursed his lips and shrugged, “Just making sure.”

Then another silence. It was so weird it became so awkward. You’ve never had this much awkwardness with Sebastian. Not since your first “accident” happened.

“Are you going?” You finally asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

What the hell was that?

You tried to push past the awkwardness, diving back into your meal and hoping the conversation would pick up again naturally. But Sebastian’s distant expression was hard to ignore. You caught him glancing around the Great Hall, his gaze seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“Sebastian,” You called him a little louder to catch his attention and his head snapped back at you, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He replied a beat too quickly for it to sound convincing.

“Are you sure?”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding, “Yeah, it’s nothing.”

You weren’t buying it, but you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Pushing him wouldn’t get you anywhere, especially not with the way he was clamming up. Still, it felt off. You wiped your mouth with a napkin, swallowing the urge to press further.

“Alright,” you said, standing up and grabbing your books, “I’m going to go then.”

Sebastian nodded and his eyes trailed your movement as you disappeared through the doors of the Great Hall. He let out a quiet sigh before making his way back to his usual spot where his plate was sitting by, waiting to be ravished. 

Next to him was Ominis, who’s still busy indulging in his meal.

“So,” The blonde was quick to begin, “Did you ask her?”

“Ask her what?” Sebastian sliced through the pile of sustenance on his plate, barely looking up to his best friend.

“To the Ball, you daft sod. I thought you were going to ask her tonight.” 

Sebastian’s face flushed slightly even though Ominis couldn’t see it. He continued eating, doing his best to act like Ominis' remark hadn’t thrown him off guard, “What makes you think I was going to ask her?”

The blonde shrugged, “You got any other candidate?” 

“I got plenty.” He sounded a bit too defensive.

“A candidate that you actually want to dance with.” He clarified, “The Ball is in a few days, you might want to quicken your pace a little bit.”

Ominis was well aware of Sebastian’s situation. Maybe a little bit too well if he could be honest.  He was practically a walking diary for his best friend. There wasn’t a thing Sebastian went through that Ominis wasn’t already clued in on. Though sometimes it made him wish he was deaf rather than blind, especially during the more detailed rants about the “casual” meet-ups.

He’d heard it all.

And yet, for all the times Sebastian went on and on about it, he just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—admit to anything, really. 

“How long do you want to play this game, Sebastian?”

“What game?” Sebastian played the clueless card. He clearly chose the wrong one to participate in a conversation with someone as sharp as Ominis.

“The one where you pretend like the things she does don't affect you.” He said. Sebastian opened his mouth to snap back, but Ominis didn’t give him the chance, “And no, I don’t just mean how her actions affect your obscene appointments. I’m talking about how you’re letting all this emotional baggage pile up while you sit here playing stoic.”

Sebastian scoffed. Some of his food also came out with it. Disgusting, “What kind of game is that?”

“The kind where you are losing.”

Sebastian hated losing. It’s not just about the sting of it but the fact losing reminded him of the fact that he hadn’t been good enough. Maybe it was his pride or his feeble foundation of self-assurance.

Or maybe losing this felt like he might be losing you. So when Ominis pointed out, it hit harder than Sebastian cared to admit.

“There’s no game, Ominis.” The sharp scrape of his knife against the silver plate grew louder.

“Denying it doesn’t make it any less real.”

Sebastian wanted to smack the smug out of his mouth so badly. But he’s not looking to be indicted for disability abuse.

He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth, chewing it with exaggerated annoyance, “I don’t care.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Ominis teased.

Sebastian sighed and dropped his silverwares, “Why does it matter to you?”

“Because it matters to you.” There was that tone again. It was softer but still conveyed the same complacent, “Maybe more than you’re letting on.”

Fuck Ominis. Fuck his self-righteous mouth and that irritatingly smug attitude that's been grating on Sebastian's nerves for seven long years. It was enough to drive anyone mental. For all he cared, Ominis could shove his so-called wisdom and that smug attitude where the sun didn’t shine.

“What I’m trying to say is,” He continued, “I’m not going to be your date when you’ve run out of options.”

Sebastian snorted at the ridiculous envisage and half-heartedly stabbed a piece of food on his plate, “Please, you wish. Like I’d ever need a backup.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, “Right. That’s why you’re sitting here, sulking and avoiding the obvious.”

Fuck Ominis and his habits of cutting straight to the point in that maddeningly calm way.

“But seriously, Sebastian.” His tone took a turn into something more serious, “You should ask her.”

“And why should I?” He asked with that forced nonchalant tone when the tension in his own jaw clearly betrayed his true emotion.

“Or someone else will.”

Fuck Ominis.

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