#prewsley

But the violinist, Ominis Gaunt, refuses to leave his thoughts. His soft, melodic laughter—rarely caught in the bustling corridors as students gather before classes—lingers in Sebastian’s mind. His smiles, fleeting but unforgettable, seen when he speaks with Natty or Amit, are so light yet tinged with weariness, as if smiling doesn’t come easily to him, but he genuinely wants to try.

And his fingers... Sebastian doesn’t dare say it aloud—it’s ridiculous and maddeningly embarrassing—but the thought has crossed his mind more than once. He wonders, absurdly, what it would be like to trade places with the violin, to feel those graceful, refined fingers moving over him with the same tender care, coaxing note after note, almost lovingly, from the strings.

All these thoughts keep him awake at night, dragging his focus away from studying and their band practices entirely. Garreth sighs, setting his guitar aside once again, casting Sebastian a knowing, slightly exasperated look. Imelda, on the other hand, keeps hammering away at the drums and cymbals, her gaze challenging as it locks onto Sallow, daring him to start singing again.

He forces himself to comply, shredding the guitar strings with relentless intensity, playing until the calluses on his fingers wear down to raw, aching skin.

Sebastian asks Anne, hoping to learn at least something about the violinist who has so firmly taken root in his thoughts. His sister understands immediately but keeps her cards close at first, offering evasive, cryptic answers about Ominis, almost driving her twin to frustration before she finally gives in and speaks more plainly.

“He doesn’t really talk to us much,” Anne says sympathetically, shaking her head as she watches her brother. “After practices or performances, he leaves right away. Though...”

“No guessing games or cryptic hints, Anne,” Sebastian grumbles, frowning at her in irritation.

“He communicates with Leander,” Anne replies with a mischievous glint in her eye, fully aware of the fiery dynamic between her brother and Prewett, which has been simmering since their first year. “And to Natty, but she’s often away dealing with family matters.”

Sebastian lets out a low groan, realizing that his little investigation—if it could even be called that—is falling apart before his eyes. Natty’s frequent absences made her no more accessible than Ominis, if not less, and as for Prewett... their feud should have fizzled out ages ago. After all, they had chosen entirely different paths: Sebastian leaned into a more modern direction, while Leander pursued the classical route. The shared guitar class was a distant memory, as was the broken instrument they’d shattered during a heated verbal sparring match.

But Sallow hadn’t forgotten the things Prewett had said about his and Anne’s situation—the remarks about their family’s lack of wealth and standing. It didn’t matter that he and Anne had earned their places at this college through grants, working tirelessly to secure their admission. Leander still held on to grudges, and Sebastian wasn’t sure whether they were aimed at Garreth or himself.

Perhaps it was because Weasley had ended up in the modern guitar class, later switching to bass and spending more and more time with Sebastian. Sallow even suspected that Prewett harbored some special interest in Garreth, though the latter assured him they were just good friends and that Leander simply had a fiery and complicated temperament.

Sebastian felt cornered—or nearly so. Natty was impossible to pin down, always rushing home after classes to care for her father and help with his treatment, as Sebastian had discovered during one of his attempts to reach out. Approaching Prewett would mean swallowing his pride and essentially admitting that he and Anne didn’t truly belong here. And going to Ominis directly... that seemed risky and, well, a bit foolish. Not frightening, of course. Never that. Just... why bother him over something so trivial, right?

It made more sense to gather some preliminary knowledge—not everything, but at least enough to approach the conversation prepared. What if Ominis didn’t like rock at all? What if he preferred jazz? Or perhaps he didn’t care for modern musical trends whatsoever, content with the grandeur of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and others. Not that Sebastian couldn’t appreciate them—he could. He cherished warm memories of childhood music lessons with his parents, back before they were gone.

But what if Ominis refused to speak to him altogether? What if Prewett had already filled his head with tales about the Sallow twins being scrappy nobodies, who had clawed their way into this prestigious college not through wealth or a renowned family name, but through relentless effort—and, maybe, a tiny touch of magic. Reyes had put in a good word for them both with the college director, after all.

I need to talk to Prewett.

Sebastian grimaced so hard at the thought that a nearby patron at the café where he worked evenings gave him a concerned glance, asking if everything was all right. He blinked a few times, sighed, and shook his head, offering an apology for his appearance as he handed over a freshly prepared cup of coffee.

His eyes swept the cozy but modestly sized café. There weren’t many customers, and those who were there were quietly enjoying their drinks. That meant he had a little time—at least until the doorbell chimed again—to do something he’d been dreading but couldn’t avoid any longer.

It was time to write a message to Prewett.

In his contacts list, names like Garreth and Imelda scrolled by, but Sebastian deliberately moved past them, talking himself out of consulting his friends about such a risky idea. The notion of partially baring his soul to Leander—exposing his interest so vulnerably—felt too precarious. He couldn’t afford to second-guess himself.

Eventually, among the other names, “Angry Carrot” appeared. His finger, jittery with nerves, nearly slipped right to initiate a call. He muttered under his breath, fumbling to cancel the near-mistake by pressing the button too many times in a row. Finally, he swiped left, took a breath, and began typing.

"This is Sebastian. Sallow, that is. Could we talk sometime?"

Sent.

Of course, Sebastian knew that Leander might refuse, might not have his phone on hand now, or simply might not notice the notification popping up on his screen. Still, for a while, he stared at his phone, willing it to vibrate with an incoming reply.

But the device remained silent, and the soft chime of the café doorbell pulled him back to reality. A new customer had arrived, and Sebastian had no choice but to set his thoughts aside for now, returning to the comforting rhythm of brewing coffee and serving patrons.

Without hesitation, he chats with the visitors, maintaining light-hearted conversations when necessary, or remaining quiet when he senses someone isn’t in the mood to talk. On the cardboard cups, he writes neutral, pleasant notes, careful not to intrude on anyone’s thoughts too much.

He supposes he could speak to Ominis the same way—gently teasing with his words, narrowing his eyes playfully, offering compliments one after the other. But this time, he wants honesty.

The last time, he’d had enough of fleeting exchanges that led nowhere meaningful—just a pleasant evening with no strings attached, leaving behind only the hollow aftertaste of emptiness. This time, he refuses to settle for less.

By the end of his shift, Sebastian has completely forgotten about his text, having immersed himself fully in work. It’s only when he places the black apron neatly on a shelf in the backroom, and his phone buzzes incessantly in his hand, that the memory comes back to him.

Amid the nearly one hundred messages in the group chat with Garreth and Imelda, and four missed calls from Garreth, Sebastian finally finds two short texts from Leander.

“This was... unexpected, Sallow.” “Will tomorrow at 4:45 PM after classes work for you?”

Declining such an offer would have been unthinkable, so Sebastian types out a brief, "Yes, that's fine," without sparing a thought for the fact that he’d also need to pick up Anne afterward. He figures he’ll text her tomorrow to give her a heads-up and avoid a full day of her speculating about the thaw in his frosty feud with Prewett.

To his surprise, he falls asleep that night. After coming home from his café shift, exhaustion takes over the moment his head hits the pillow.

The next morning, however, his thoughts descend on him in waves, swirling with doubts and hesitation. More than once, he picks up his phone, tempted to cancel the meeting with Leander. Focus eludes him during classes, and he finds himself sneaking off for smoke breaks more often than usual, drawing curious glances from fellow students and mild reprimands from professors.

When the fateful time finally arrives, Sebastian finds himself standing in a distant corridor, gazing out the window and counting the budding leaves on the nearest tree as they push through winter's remnants. Anything to distract himself. Pruett is late—not by much, but enough for Sebastian to assume it’s deliberate. Perhaps Leander wants to "teach him a lesson," reminding him of his supposed place alongside people like Anne. But eventually, Pruett emerges from the lecture hall, his assessing gaze sweeping over Sebastian as if weighing him.

“We’re here to talk about... Garreth.”

“...Gaunt.”

They stand staring at each other for a beat too long, both trying to decipher what the other had in mind when agreeing to this meeting. Leander presses his lips together, a faint flush creeping over his face as he shifts his gaze to the side, clearly sorting through his thoughts and simmering—whether at Sebastian’s audacity or sheer nerve was hard to tell. Meanwhile, Sebastian exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose with enough force to leave marks. Of course, he’d forgotten to clarify the purpose of their meeting, and now they were caught in this awkward limbo.

Before Leander can start hissing like a boiling kettle, Sebastian cuts him off.

“Let’s walk”

The spring breeze cools them both, carrying with it the crisp promise of renewal. Sunlight dances across freckled skin, forcing narrowed eyes and unintentional smiles. Finally, they manage to partially let go of old grievances. Leander, speaking in a low, awkward voice, offers an apology for the past. Sebastian, far calmer, apologizes for the present, making it clear that there is nothing more than good friendship between him and Garreth.

Sebastian doesn’t miss the subtle shift in Leander’s demeanor—the way his shoulders finally relax, the way his clenched fists loosen, fingers brushing nervously against his uniform trousers, as though trying to erase the excess tension.

They talk about Ominis sparingly. Not as much or as deeply as Sebastian might have hoped, but enough for him to learn a few key things—details he quietly tucks away for later.

Ominis isn’t closed off, but things with his family are... complicated. He recently moved in with his aunt, which finally allows him more time for everything else, not just his studies. He clings to music desperately, as if it’s his lifeline to a world where people truly see him—free of flaws and judgment. Yet he struggles deeply whenever he’s without his violin, feeling adrift in any company without that familiar anchor in his hands.

Leander doesn’t share much more, but he pauses to ask Sebastian why he’s suddenly so interested. He warns him, too—with an edge of protectiveness—that he’ll stand up for his friend, not Garreth this time, if Sebastian does anything to hurt Ominis.

"Don’t worry about it. I won’t," Sebastian replies tiredly, his voice betraying a bitterness he hadn’t intended. He lets a hint of his interest in Ominis slip, unwittingly revealing more to Leander than he meant to.

They part ways not as enemies anymore, but not yet friends either—there’s still a long way to go. However, a thaw in their relationship has finally begun. Sebastian promises he’ll try to bother Garreth a little less about dragging him to concerts on weekends, or inviting Leander along if his delicate ears can handle the noise and chaos of their favorite bands. Leander doesn’t promise Sebastian anything in return, and Sebastian doesn’t expect anything either.

Imelda huffs in displeasure, poking Sebastian with the fork she has her asparagus speared on, drawing his attention to herself.

"I don’t want to say ‘I told you so,’ but... I told you so. And what did you do?"

"Hey, I didn’t even try, just double-checked," Sebastian replies, raising both hands above the table in a gesture of surrender. "But you should probably look over there at ‘your’ new headache."

Sebastian hums, tilting his head to the side as he nods toward Garreth, who’s laughing too loudly at one of Leander's jokes, standing a little too close to Prue, more than just a close friend.

"Oh no. Another one’s going to catch the spring fever soon. And what am I supposed to do alone on the drums, huh, Sallow?" Reyes grumbles, clicking her tongue in mock frustration as she glares at Sebastian.

"Me? I’m not going anywhere, Reyes. Don’t even hope," Sebastian responds with a smirk. "And besides, Garreth’s going to get tired of being torn between Leander and the band, so we’ll have one more listener."

"Don’t you dare—"

"Hey, Gaz!" Sebastian waves his hand enthusiastically at Garreth. "Next time, bring Prue to our rehearsal! Let him add something a little more... acoustic."

Garreth just smirks and gives a thumbs up in response.

"I hate you, Sallow..." Imelda groans, covering her eyes with her hand so she doesn't have to see how excitedly and brightly Weasley is gesturing something to Leander.

"You love me, Reyes," Sebastian smirks, carefully pulling Imelda's hand away from her face. "Besides, you were the one who said we needed listeners, right?"

All that comes in response is a heavy sigh from Reyes.

Everything falls back into its usual rhythm, but this time there’s one more person in their group. Leander really adds a bit more classical, lyrical sound to their band, pushing the usual boundaries of their style and helping them explore new directions, not just the "noise and chaos," as Prueutt had pointed out during one of their rehearsals.

Anne shares her success in the orchestra. They even perform together as a duet at one of the concerts, with their flute and violin melodies receiving a thunderous ovation afterwards. Ann tries a few times to bring up the topic of Ominis with Sebastian, asking what he learned from his conversation with Leander, but Sebastian always sidesteps the topic, avoiding anything related to the blind violinist.

After that conversation with Prewett, Sebastian realizes just how different he and Ominis are. His noisy, cheerful gatherings, the loud music that nearly knocks you off your feet, simply don’t suit Ominis. The other is striving for something, moving toward his goal, at least knowing one thing in his life with certainty, while Sebastian has no idea where he’ll go after college. He wonders if he’ll be able to push the band even to the point of an indie project or if they’ll all abandon it and go their separate ways.

Ominis comes from that same wealthy family, while Sebastian struggles to make ends meet, working part-time in the evenings when he’s not studying or rehearsing. Ominis wears soft, knitted sweaters in the winter, holding a mug of mate in his fingers, trying to warm himself. Sebastian, on the other hand, walks around in black hoodies, sometimes forgetting to zip them up, and shakes his iced bumble with the plastic cup, making a clinking sound.

Ominis is like light, and Sebastian is the unflattering shadow. There are just too many differences between them.

Sebastian doesn't look at his phone while working, handing out order after order to the late-night visitors. The coffee machine hisses with heat, grinding the beans with a deafening noise, releasing the aromatic, coffee dust into the portafilter. The bell above the door rings behind him, and without turning around, Sebastian shouts:

"One minute!"

He turns off the steam, pouring the heated milk into the cup where coffee with a few squirts of syrup is already resting at the bottom, and, after placing the order on the pickup counter, finally directs his gaze toward the new guest, freezing.

"I was told the coffee here is pretty good, but I'd still prefer a matcha, if you have it on the menu..."

His smile is still a little tired, but sincere, with tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, just at the start of the constellation of freckles on his cheek. His voice is soft, with a light touch of laughter, almost weightlessly brushing against the tip of his nose, teasing it gently. His eyes... as it turns out, they are even more beautiful up close, captivating enough to almost turn someone to stone with just a single glance.

Leander can be prone to moods and sulking, but Garreth always knows how to cheer him up (it's usually chocolate or playing with his hair).

Leander loves to lie on top of Garreth and fall asleep - Garreth is the only person tall enough/broad enough to handle his height and he feels comfortable sleeping in his arms.

Garreth is usually the one getting the pair into trouble, and Leander is usually the one who gets them out of it.

They have a friendly rivalry with the Slytherins, but Garreth is always on watch to make sure things don't go too far. If they do, the Slytherins might find their drinks spiked with one of his experimental brews.

Leander fell for Garreth way back in second year, but it wasn't until fourth year that he admitted it because he accidentally revealed that his Amortentia smelled like Garreth's hair.

Garreth loves being the little spoon.

Garreth's quite popular and charismatic, but Leander has the social grace of a frog. Garreth makes sure Leander is always included in conversations and won't let anyone talk over him.

While Garreth is quite versatile, Leander is a bottom through and through. Whether this is down to his natural shyness and insecurities, he’s happiest when he’s taken, as opposed to doing the taking himself.

I HC Garreth as being happily bi and very comfortable with his sexuality, but Leander is 100% into men, and still very conflicted about it due to the 1800’s stance on homosexuality, despite the wizarding world being much more accepting. It took a long time for him to come to terms with his feelings for Garreth, and even longer to be comfortable doing anything other than sharing a kiss, even when they were as secretive as possible.

Despite (or perhaps due to) Leander’s repression when it comes to sex, when he finally gets comfortable with the idea and confident that he’s not going to be found out, he becomes a bit of a sex-crazed maniac. He wants it all the time, and Garreth, despite his stamina and willingness to indulge his slutty bf, can’t always keep up.

Both of them love to kiss the other constantly during the act, meaning that they've both got bruised and sore lips for a little while afterwards, but both consider it a small price to pay for the enjoyment they get from each other.

Leander is wildly insecure about the way he looks, believing himself to be too lanky and pale. Garreth goes above and beyond to try and reassure him, praising him near constantly when they’re intimate, leading to Leander developing a bit of a praise kink.

Garreth is very much open to anything in the bedroom – he’ll try anything once and with a lot of enthusiasm. If he wants to try something that’s beyond vanilla, he’ll do his best to learn about it beforehand so he knows what he’s doing. He does have a habit of losing himself in the moment, though.

When the pair become a bit more comfortable with their relationship, Garreth takes to brewing experimental potions to enhance his performance. This led to a rather amusing escapade in which he overbrewed his own version of ‘the little blue potion’ leading to a six-hour long session that left Leander walking with a limp for a couple of days. He didn’t mind.

Leander has a rare condition known as ‘hyperspermia’ which basically means he produces a LOT more cum than the average guy. Bit of a shock for Garreth the first time they were intimate, and he was strutting around like a peacock for days afterwards because he was so proud of himself. When he realised it was going to be buckets every time, he got even more invested.

(Also side note I HC our darling Omi has the same condition but that’s just bc I think it’s sexy as fuck)