#subastian

His knees just gone. Giving out. Sllllowly sliding down onto the floor, knees hitting the hardwood—normally, you'd have a pillow or cushion for him, he's too old to go bone to wood, but he wants it, he needs it right now. The contact. The immediacy. With his forehead against your chest and then dragging down your stomach, he's hiding his handsome face against your hip, burying himself, shutting his eyes, disappearing his crows feet and laugh lines and everything that reminds you just how much he holds in his hands, how much he controls, how—

“You finished with everything?”

Sluggishly, barely moving, he nods, fingers releasing his work bag, letting it be shoved aside.

“Good,” you thread your fingers through his thick, greying hair. “That's good, baby.”

And he, just, exhales. Everything. There go all the thoughts about work, about his fellow faculty members, about his students, about anything but this. Right here. Right now.

You want him here.

Only here.

Now.

“You're so good,” you fist your hand in the thick hair at the back of his head, tugging just barely. Not hurting him, not at all, only making your presence known. A little pressure, probably right where he wants it, relieving one of those all-too-common tension headaches he gets. “And since you're done with everything…”

You trail off, knowing just how he'll react—knowing and waiting for him to stare up at you, eyes already gone hazy and unfocused.

He does.

He stares, eyes glazed and mouth static, resting lazily, slightly open. He is a picture. For as hard as he works, years of practice allow him to play hard, too. He is so delightfully, erotically well-versed in the art of surrender.

“Uh-huh?” He mouths, nearly silent.

“You deserve to relax, honey." Your fingertips press against his scalp, massaging him, watching his eyes satisfyingly start to roll. "You stay right here. Don't move. I'm gonna go get your key,” you can't help but smirk, breaking your calm, cool dominance with just an edge of cruelty; fucking sue you, you enjoy knowing half of what makes the bulge in his well-ironed slacks as opposed to what all the students who lust over him think. “And we'll take you out, how's that sound?”

Wordlessly, already going non-verbal and sweet, sliding fast, Sebastian shudders. His pink tongue flicks out, over his lips.

“Hmm?” You prompt.

He nods.

Not a yes or no question, but you enjoy the answer regardless. That sounds like yes. He's so easy. It's cute.

“You didn't even hear the rest of it, baby,” you chuckle, dark and rich, just teasing. Always teasing. Fingers tracing the shell of his ear, pressing into the prominent bone behind it, you fucking enjoy the way he leans into your touch. Needy like a cat—history with its owner well-established, knowing exactly what's coming, where they'll scratch. “You don't need to hear the rest of it.” You tell him. You don't ask. “You just want it. All of it. Anything and everything.”

His lips quiver, “uh-huh.”

“I know. I know. I wanna tell you, though." You press your thumb to his sweet, sweet mouth, surrounded by greyed stubble. "Look at that handsome face. I wanna see your face.”

“O-okay,” his cheeks flush, burning, obviously struggling not to push back into your upper thigh, hiding himself away under the praise.

“I'm gonna unlock you," you explain, teeth sharp in your speech. You can't help wanting to devour him with a spoon. "I'll be nice, you deserve it. I won't even wait until you're as hard and aching in your cage as you get—even though you do look fucking incredible when you get there. You know that, don't you?” You squish his dimpled chin between your fingers and thumb. He pouts. Fuck. “You get all teary-eyed, red in the face, and you squirm so much. You look desperate. Like you'd do anything to get out but more to stay in. I know how much you like your cage.”

He whimpers.

“But, I won't do that.” You could laugh, maybe moan, at the way his face changes. Heartbroken and yet drooling for more, hanging on your every word. It's heady. “I'm not gonna make you hurt like that... I'm gonna take your cock out and I'm gonna put you over the fucking bench, right here, right where you come home every day, right where you bend over to take off your shoes, right where anyone could knock and walk right in and see you—your slacks and underwear down to your ankles, your shirt pushed up, your freed cock dripping over the leather cushion, fighting not to squirm too much and make a mess. You wouldn't do that.”

He whimpers, just barely. Of course. He doesn't want to be in the way, he doesn't want to be messy, he wants to be good. He wants it so bad it hurts. He wants it to hurt, too. He wants so much. He's so greedy, still seeking any sensation after decades of curating his tastes. You love it.

“You wanna be good. You want to take it when I spank your pretty ass red, don't you.”

“Yes.” His voice has gone hoarse with desire, urgently answering your rhetorical inquiry.

“You wanna take hit after hit until you just can't stand it—until you're so sure you're gonna cum just from the pleasure of my hand on your ass, you haven't gotten to cum all week after all.” You have to bite your lip. You can't not. God. “You're so sensitive, all revved up, poor sub. You just can't stop yourself.”

You lean down, closer, rubbing his back, whispering, “you won't see it coming when I spread you open and spit on your hole. You won't even fucking know what's hit you when I smack your used, stretched open hole—” his cock being caged, his orgasms being denied, has never stopped you from fucking his hole “—and get lower and lower and lower, until I hit your poor, neglected cock.”

He moans.

And suddenly, you stiffly grip the back of his neck, scruffing him, “and you're gonna cum so hard the neighbors will hear you scream.” You rattle him with the grip you have on his neck, voice inagruable to soft, contrasting just to drive him crazy, “maybe they'll come knocking after all, hmm?”

Sebastian stares up at you, eyes completely glazed over, cock exactly as aching and hard in it's confines as you said you wouldn't let it get, oops, as his soft, open lips shape, “yuh-yeah, yes, please. Please.”

Thump. Thwack.

The sounds Ominis’ thick cock made whenever he bottomed out and plunged straight back into your drenching wet cunt weren’t exactly quiet. Sure, the Black Lake was just nearby, and technically you could pretend it was leeches flopping against the riverbanks, but nothing could drown out the wet slapping sounds his length made or the moans you were trying to hide while biting into your own hand.

Maybe someone passing by would just think it was a merman jacking himself off to short-skirted students. Happy Mermay and all.

“Ominis, someone will hear,” you were whimpering behind your hand, pleading for him to slow down.

Your whimper only made him drive into you harder, his cock pulsing as you could feel he was close, though that never really meant anything. He could come and then fuck his seed deeper into you, still hard. Some days you weren’t even sure if he was human, or if the dark magic his family meddled with had turned his dick into some kind of magic wand, only satisfied after three, sometimes four orgasms.

“Quiet, darling. They’ll only hear if you don’t stop complaining like the needy little slut you are. I’m close. Shut your pretty little mouth and just let me fuck you. N.E.W.T.s are stressing me out, and you know I need my stress-relief fuck doll to help with that,” he huffed into your ear, putting his own hand over yours to stop another whimper from slipping from your mouth at his deranged words while he fucked you even harder against the bark of the tree he currently had your stomach pressed against.

It didn’t stop your cunt from clenching hard around him, which in turn made him groan. Maybe he should’ve put a hand over his own sinful mouth.

“No fucking way!”

Your heart stopped at the all-too-familiar lazy drawl from behind you, and when you turned your head, you could’ve sworn Ominis’ clouded eyes gleamed with murderous intent.

“I mean, there were bets going around about which one of you two would fold first. Never thought it’d be her against a tree, though,” Sebastian Sallow whistled as he dared to step closer, utterly unashamed of the intimate situation he had just interrupted.

You never liked him - or the way he seemed to draw chaos into his orbit as if he were the sun and everything remotely orderly was helplessly pulled toward him. Including half the seventh-year girls in your house. Or the other houses. Or even the years below you. Stupid fucking captain of the Quidditch team, with his stupid fucking star-shaped freckles and tousled hair that was currently falling into molten chocolate eyes glinting with mischief.

“It would be wise for you to leave while you still can,” Ominis answered coldly, his voice dipping into that low, dangerous tone he normally reserved for the debates in the N.E.W.T.-level Arithmancy class the two of you shared, where you fought each other viciously for the top marks.

One would think the presence of Ominis’ best friend would’ve made him put his cock back into his pants, but instead he only continued moving in a slow, lazy rhythm while talking to Sebastian as though you weren’t even there. Fuck. It made your cunt rival the Black Lake itself with how wet it made you.

Ominis noticed. He pulled back just a little farther only to thrust back in a little harder, snickering into your ear as he continued talking to Sebastian.

“Or don’t. It seems our Head Girl here very much likes being watched. Dirty little doll,” he said while rolling his hips just right, enough to make your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head.

“I-I don’t,” you stammered, but even you could hear the lie beneath the drool slipping down your chin.

“Not convinced, darling. The way your cunt is gripping me like she wants to snap my dick off says otherwise,” he laughed.

“Woah, okay. Who are you, and what did you do to my nerdy best friend?” Sebastian Sallow’s eyes widened, though his mouth still curled into a smirk, and he made no move to retreat.

“J-just go. Please,” you whimpered, though you weren’t sure whether the plea was directed at him or at the rhythm Ominis had now regained, the thwacking sounds growing louder again.

He really just didn’t care that he was currently fucking you before the eyes of his best friend, whom you had a crush on back in fifth year - at least until he killed his uncle and you realized you had no intention of quickies in Azkaban visitor cells.

Of course, you hadn’t turned him in. Neither had Ominis. But it had still left a mark.

“No, I think I’m good right where I am. I mean, come on. You two have been fighting for top marks ever since you showed up at Hogwarts. But I guess this was bound to happen eventually. Everyone kept saying you’d either kill each other after graduation or… do exactly what you’re doing right now. I’m glad to tell the others it was the latter,” the sheer audacity in his words made you want to rip his tongue out. And stuff it into your own mouth.

“Don’t you dare - ahh - tell anyone!” you gasped, though your voice didn’t hold much authority with the way Ominis had already slipped back into his old rhythm, smacking sounds filling the air as his balls thwacked against your clit.

“What did you say? Can’t hear you when you’re moaning so sweetly,” he grinned. Fucker. Oh, how you’d bite his dick off if you ever got it into your mouth. Yeah, you’d take him in deep, make him whimper and beg, and just when he was about to come, you’d stop -

Smack.

A slap against your ass brought you back to reality. “Don’t you dare drift off now, darling,” Ominis growled.

It was such a weird fucking situation: Ominis, your former academic rival and the man you hated most, fucking you against a tree just behind the Black Lake, while his best friend - and also your former friend and the captain of the Quidditch team, who had never stooped low enough to even acknowledge you again after you couldn’t help him with his idiotic requests back in fifth year - stood there watching. What the actual fuck.

“So. Can I join?” Sebastian Sallow dared to ask after a while.

“No - ”

“Sure,” Ominis said, smacking a hand over your mouth as you tried to protest.

“Darling, don’t be mean. I’m sure the semester is stressing him out as well. And he has a big game this Saturday. You wouldn’t want my best friend to lose, would you? Now be a good girl and help him relieve some of that tension,” Ominis dared to say, and you hated him in that moment. Hated how your nipples hardened even further and how your pussy was practically gushing around him at his stupid, idiotic idea.

Sebastian’s eyes lit up like a cat who had just gotten the mouse, the cream, and the whole damn snack box. He was about to open his pants when Ominis stopped him.

“Ah, ah. None of that. Leave your clothes on. You’ll have to earn it first. She decides if she wants you. On your knees. Make her come with your tongue first, and maybe she’ll grant you the blessing of her mouth. Or pussy. Whatever I decide you deserve.”

Your heart was about to jump out of your chest, and for a second you thought Sebastian would argue. Captain of the Quidditch team, Hogwarts heartthrob, top of the school’s food chain - surely he would never stoop so low.

And then he was crawling on his knees the last few meters, his tongue greedily darting out, making you jolt as it made contact with your clit within mere seconds.

Sebastian fucking Sallow was crawling. For you.

You would’ve come from the sight alone if Ominis hadn’t pinched your nipple so hard it made you cry out around his hand. “Don’t you dare come just yet. Hold it. Make him work for it.”

Tears of pain and pleasure sprang to your eyes as you nodded at Ominis’ command. He was still pinching your nipples, knowing you hated it when he was this rough with your sensitive pebbles, and therefore keeping you from letting go, all while Sebastian ate you out like a man starved, dehydrated, and suffocated- and you were the feast, the finest wine, all the air, and the whole damn fucking universe.

His tongue curled expertly around your clit while his hands traced slow, maddening patterns along your thighs, a contradiction that made goosebumps rise all over your skin.

“Taste so fucking good,” Sebastian’s voice vibrated against you.

“Yeah? Then keep going,” Ominis commanded, and boy, he did, diving in with newfound vigor, all while Ominis finally let go of your nipples and used his free hand to wrap around your throat instead, whispering the utmost filth into your ear.

“You like that, doll? Having a cock in your hole and a tongue worshipping your cunt? You like the attention? I know you do. I can feel you clenching around me. You’re allowed to come now, by the way.”

A smack to your ass. “No, let me rephrase. You are going to come now. Now,” Ominis growled.

You could feel your release pooling around you as you squirted around his cock, right into Sebastian’s mouth, and the fucker lapped it all up like he was standing beneath a waterfall of firewhisky. You could feel Ominis’ first orgasm too, his release warm as he filled you with it, painting your insides white, and you braced yourself for the emptiness around your clit when Sebastian would pull away.

Instead, he didn’t. He stayed there, greedily lapping up not only your release but Ominis’ as well, his tongue catching every last drop while you could hear him gulp. You were moaning so loudly you wouldn’t have been surprised if a few more students decided to join.

Ominis stayed buried inside you already hardening again, but he released your mouth, and Sebastian used the opportunity to stand up and pull you into a kiss, letting you taste yourself and Ominis on his tongue. You allowed it, greedily pushing your tongue into his mouth.

He pulled back, breathless, glazed eyes searching for yours. “Please. I need to feel you. Whatever. Just… inside.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. Your hands were already opening his pants as his thick, throbbing cock bobbed against his stomach, leaving a wet stain on his shirt. He was nearly the same size as Ominis, but thicker, veins pulsing and precum leaking, making your mouth water, and you couldn’t hold back, following your earlier thoughts as you took him all the way down your throat.

“Fuck. Hell. Fuck.” Sebastian wasn’t even capable of amcoherent thought anymore, trying desperately to stay still and letting you set the pace, afraid he might ruin it if he got too eager and you stopped granting him the feeling of your heavenly mouth.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” You could hear the smile in Ominis’ voice. You could also hear the pride. It made you quicken your rhythm, wanting to show off for him as he started moving his hips again, seed from his earlier release still running down your thighs.

“She’s magnificent. Taking me so deep. Fuck. I’m not going to last like this,” he grunted, no longer holding back, his hands now fisting in your hair as he pulled you deeper onto his cock, thrusting into your mouth in sync with Ominis’ movements behind you.

You could hear it in his short, hitched breaths and the way he pressed you against his pelvis that he wasn’t lying. Wicked little thing that you were, you allowed it, your tongue tracing the big, prominent vein on the underside of his cock while you tried not to gag as he groaned, already pulsing against you. Just a second longer and he would -

You gripped his thighs and put all your strength into pushing yourself back, letting his cock slip out of your mouth with a loud, wet pop. His dick was swollen, red, and throbbing, and Sebastian was staring at you with shocked, teary eyes, balanced right on the edge of orgasm only to be left hanging.

“No. What? Please. No,” he tried to pull you back onto him, but Ominis caught his hands in a tight grip, all while still thrusting into you from behind.

“Wicked little witch. But let’s respect the lady’s wishes, shouldn’t we?” Ominis smirked, and you could hear how delighted he was by your actions.

“Ominis, please, please, I need to -” Sebastian started, but Ominis gripped his hair and pulled him close over you.

“It’s not me you should beg to,” he growled, utterly serious. It made your pussy and your heart clench alike. This bastard was making you fall for him even harder. You were fucked. Literally. But those were problems for a future version of you.

Right now, you wanted to hear the sound of Sebastian Sallow begging you to let him come.

“Right. You’re right. Sorry. Fuck.” Ominis let go of Sebastian’s hair, who was already dropping back down to his knees for you. Who would’ve thought that he was such a whining sub in the bedroom? You liked it when Ominis told you what to do, or even better, stopped you from having to think at all. But with Sebastian? The power you held over him made you feel like a queen. A goddess, even.

Especially when he looked up at you like you hung the moon, only to swipe it away just when the tide was about to break in. Well, in a way, you did.

“Kitten, please. Please, I need to come so bad. Whatever you want, just please.”

“Oh, she likes that, Sebastian. Keep going,” Ominis grinned, clearly feeling your cunt tighten at this.

“I -” you started, but then stopped, a bit ashamed of the thing you wanted to ask. But then again, you were just fucking your study buddy and his best friend in the middle of the day outside in front of the Black Lake.

“Don’t be shy, darling. I’m sure Sebastian will grant you your wish,” Ominis whispered in your ear.

“I want you both. Inside. Same time. Same… hole,” you bit your lip, and Ominis’ rhythm faltered for a fraction of a second.

“Both? Inside your… your cunt?” Sebastian asked, staring up at you, and you were about to tell them what a stupid idea that was when you heard Ominis bark out a laugh from behind you.

“Greedy little thing,” he said, thrusting into you once, hard. “You heard her. Let’s go. I made sure it’s properly lubricated already.”

“Hell. Yes. Fuck. Yes.” Sebastian was up and aligning himself with you in a heartbeat.

“Tell me if it’s too much. I’ll go slow,” he said, his voice shaking.

“She can take it. Now go before I change my mind about sharing my girl with you,” Ominis snarled.

My girl. You clenched hard around both of them at the same time as Sebastian pushed into you in one harsh thrust.

“Fuck. She’s so tight,” Seb was the one whimpering now, resting his head on your shoulder as he seemed content just to finally be inside you.

“She is. Move,” Ominis commanded, already setting the pace for the two of them.

“Yes. Yes. Fuck. Yes. I can feel you, Ominis. Holy shit,” Sebastian panted as he tried to keep up with Ominis’ fast rhythm, both of them now slamming their hips against yours. You were so impossibly full of them, feeling both their cocks rub against each other, filling every inch of you, drowning out every coherent thought and turning you into a moaning, drooling mess.

“Look at her gaping around us, Ominis. Look at her sloppy cunt taking us both. Fuck. This is the best shit ever, even if our dicks are touching.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sebastian,” Ominis growled, gripping his hair again and pressing his face against yours. Your lips found each other without Ominis having to voice the command, and you moaned shamelessly into Sebastian’s mouth.

“Make him choke on your tongue, darling. I’m tired of his rambling.”

And you did, shoving it down his throat, feeling him gag, clearly not used to having something down there. It made your eyes roll back, and you were so close to another orgasm. But the boys were too. You could hear it in the gasps Sebastian let out into your mouth and the quiet little huffs - the only telltale sign that Ominis was hanging on by a thread too.

“Look at her squirming. Look at her coming on both our dicks, Ominis. Fuuuuck,” Sebastian groaned, against your lips, clearly unable to hold it in for another second.

“I - ah - can’t see, you fuckass. But I can feel her. Darling, you’re doing so good for us. Yes. Let me fill you up a second time. There you go,” Ominis said, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as both of them spilled into you. You were so full it was already dripping down your thighs, even more so when their dicks slowly softened.

All three of you were left panting, tangled together in the shade of the tree. Ominis still held you tightly against him while Sebastian seemed almost reluctant to let go, lingering there for a few breathless moments before finally pulling back.

He looked utterly ruined. Hair a mess, lips swollen, freckles flushed dark against his cheeks. Like someone had taken the arrogant Quidditch captain and wrung every ounce of pride out of him.

“Fuck,” he laughed weakly, still trying to catch his breath. “Thank you. Seriously. I’ll tell no one. Absolutely no one. But Merlin… if either of you ever wants to ruin my life like that again, you know where to find me.”

Then he leaned down, pressed one last softer kiss to your lips, and stumbled back toward the castle, still fixing his clothes with shaky hands as though the last twenty minutes hadn‘t completely rewritten the chemistry of your brain.

Silence settled for all of three seconds before Ominis’ arms tightened around you again.

“He is right about one thing,” he murmured against your ear, still buried deep inside you. “You pussy is fucking sloppy.“

A slow thrust followed, deliberate enough to pull a gasp from your throat.

All of it proved worth it in the end. Sebastian’s release papers were handed over, and Dracaena packed a small bag.

“I’ll be a week,” she said to Ominis. “They want him to stay in a sort of halfway house for a while, to make sure he’s not going to go mental and start hexing everyone in sight. Personally, I’m just glad he’s going to get some time to start readjusting to life outside.” She tilted her head. “Won’t you come with me?”

“Best not,” Ominis said, for the fiftieth time, his patience unending. “I don’t want to overwhelm him, and you’ve always known how to calm him down when he gets too… well.”

She chuckled lightly. “That’s assuming he’s not a complete wreck. I hope it’s not affected him too badly.”

“Dove… he’s going to be very different to what we remember,” Ominis replied, resting a hand on her shoulder as she folded her clothes. “He won’t be the Sebastian we knew.”

“I know,” she raised her hand to his, smiling as he looped his other arm around her belly and held her tight. She tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder as he brushed a kiss over her cheek. “I hope he’s forgiven us for not doing more sooner.”

“He’ll have forgiven you,” Ominis said. “He always had a soft spot for you. I rather expect, even after all this time, that he’s still in love with you.”

Dracaena kept her silence. She and Ominis had naturally fallen together towards the end of their sixth year of Hogwarts, their shared experiences and pain leading them to comfort one another, she taking Sebastian and Anne’s place as Ominis’ refuge from his family, moving in together once they’d left the school. In a small way, she was surprised it had taken him as long as it had to propose, presenting her with an elegant ring of emerald and diamond set in white gold six months ago. She’d accepted gladly, though a tiny part of her mourned what that meant for Sebastian.

She loved Ominis with all her heart and more. She adored his gentleness, his respect, his kindness and consideration. She admired his steel, the restrained fury with which he dealt with their enemies, both inside and outside of work, his searing wit and boundless intelligence. She relished his talent as a wizard, and fell in love with him over and over again with each morning they woke beside each other, still spent from their passions, safe in each other’s arms.

But she still loved Sebastian.

Ominis tightened his arm around her.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “I know how you felt about him. I know how you feel. If things hadn’t ended the way they did, I would have expected the pair of you to be married by now.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “Dracaena… he’s my best friend. I want him to stay with us. We have the room, and he’d be safer than if he was just left to try and survive by himself after all he will have been through. I know you and him well enough to know you’re drawn to each other.”

“But I’m yours,” she whispered, moving his hand to brush over her ring. “Remember?”

He shrugged. “I know. I trust you. I know that if you said nothing would happen between you, I would believe you because it would be true. But you’d be unhappy. You both would. I know you’re not going to leave me for him, Dracaena, but I know you also make each other happy. He’s going to need all the love and support he can get once he’s out. I’d hope that you can give that to him.”

She tilted her head. “Ominis… are you giving me permission to… play away with your best friend?”

He chuckled. “Don’t cheapen it,” his elegant fingers found her cheek, tilting her head so he could kiss her full. “I’m telling you that if you two happen to come together again, I support it. Didn’t you once tell me you’d have liked it if you could have had us both?”

“I was drunk!” she protested, giggling as he dug his fingers into her ribs, ticking her gently. “You can’t use that against me!”

“I can and will,” he laughed, holding her tight. “I mean it, Dracaena. I don’t mind at all, so long as it’s only him. He’s my brother as far as I’m concerned, and I trust you both.”

“You might regret it,” Dracaena warned.

“If I do, we’ll talk about it, and find a way to resolve it,” he said, releasing her at last. “Go on now, you need to get to the dock. Send me an owl once he’s settled.”

“I will.”

He brushed a hand over her cheek. “See you in a week. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

_.-~*~-._

The sky was a stormy grey, and the waves below were similarly sullen. They crashed against the side of the boat, sending salty sprays onto the deck as if it was their mission to knock the vessel off course.

Dracaena sat between two stern faced Aurors, her hands folded in her lap. She’d left her bag at the halfway house, a modest, three-roomed bungalow surrounded by similar buildings, grey bricked and dour looking. She had perched on one of the rickety chairs by the small, circular dining table as one of the Aurors explained to her that Sebastian would be under careful watch for the first year following his release, and any missteps would see him sent right back to Azkaban.

She’d only half listened as he went over an itemised list for what she should do during her week’s stay at the halfway house, pinning a sheet of parchment to the wall with the details. She was only to feed him small meals, as he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything more. Nothing rich, nothing too fatty, and no alcohol. She’d frowned, asking why.

“Because the prisoners don’t tend to eat,” he’d said, gruffly. “The dementors have to force them in order to keep them alive.”

She’d shivered then, and she shivered now, remembering. They weren’t allowed to leave the halfway house, except for at specific times each day to walk around the complex for ten minutes at a time, to build up his strength. She had to write a detailed report at the end of each day to give to the Aurors, describing their conversations and activities. She was sternly warned that if she didn’t, there would be Trouble. Said Trouble was left unspecified, and she didn’t have the heart to ask.

Dracaena shifted, watching as something huge, angular and black began to rise from the waves, impossibly tall, impossibly wide, made entirely of stone. Only a few small windows lay in the surface, like knife wounds in flesh. Her hands tightened in her lap as dread began to seep under her skin, a visceral fear prickling over her neck and shoulders. She was only going to be there for a short time, to bring her best friend home. She couldn’t imagine how Sebastian would have felt, seeing that pillar of misery approach, believing he would never leave.

She loosed a soft breath, eyeing the distant, tattered black shapes swooping around outside it. He would leave. He would leave with her, and everything would be alright.

The boat approached a yawning cavern at the base of the prison, the Aurors casting a Patronus each, a mouse and a raven. There was a dock in the cavern, the blackness chased away by sparsely placed sconces in the damp, glistening walls. Standing there waiting was a hunched little man, balding on top with buck teeth and a sickly smile. He had a Patronus as well, something that looked like a cross between an ailing puppy and a wall-eyed rat.

Dracaena stepped off the boat, shivering, the feeling of dread still creeping under her clothes and caressing her skin. She set her jaw, drew her wand, and cast a Patronus of her own.

An elegant panther touched its paws to the stone, gazing around imperiously as the Aurors and the little man raised their brows, the dread vanishing from her chest as if it had never been. From the shadows around the walls, several rattling voices gurgled and hissed, as if angry.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“Cell 506,” the little man said, rubbing his hands together with a grin that seemed entirely too cheerful for such a place. “Follow me, my dear.”

The patronuses cast silvery blue light on the walls as they ascended a surprisingly wide staircase, their footsteps echoing. Reaching the first floor, the little man produced a set of keys and unlocked a heavy, barred door.

“No need for magic here,” he cackled. “No one’s got their wands, have they?”

They strode into a cell block, and Dracaena recoiled. The scent of filth was overwhelming, but it was the sounds that chilled her. Her Patronus flickered, moving to stand beside her as desperate sobs filled her ears, tortured cries and garbled, gibbering wails singing in a hellish harmony that echoed off the walls.

The sounds died down as the little man and the Aurors encouraged her on, and though she tried to face forward, to ignore the figures in the cells, she couldn’t help but notice how they scrambled towards the bars, their bony, wasted hands reaching through, stretching for the patronuses as the tattered shadows of the dementors fled their presence. The screams began again as they passed, somehow more agonised than before.

They repeated this four more times, ascending rapidly narrowing staircases and emerging into a new cell block, climbing higher and higher, taunting the prisoners with the promise of relief from their misery in their passing. With each step, Dracaena’s heart beat just a little faster, her grip on her wand increasing, the hackles on her panther Patronus rising as she bared her teeth.

By the time they reached the fifth floor, her palms were sweating. How different would he be? Would the Sebastian she knew and loved still be there, somewhere? Would his eyes still sparkle with the mischief he was so adept at making, at once sliding into fury when he was challenged, and softening whenever he looked at her? She knew he’d be different. He’d look different. He’d act different. But she had to believe he was still there.

No matter her provisions, in the following years, Dracaena didn’t think there was anything on earth that could have prepared her for what she saw when she finally reached Sebastian’s cell.

Unlike so many of the other prisoners, he wasn’t screaming or crying, and he didn’t rush to the bars to feel the passing warmth of the patronuses. He huddled by the wall, next to a narrow mattress and ratty blanket laid directly on the floor. His hair was halfway down to his elbows, thick and matted, almost black with grime. He was dressed as they all were, in a filthy pair of striped trousers and shirt, and they hung loose on his frame. His head was on his arms, resting on his knees, drawn to his chest. The hand she could see was almost skeletal, every inch of boyish puppy fat stripped from his body. His nails were bitten to the quick and filthy, as were his bare feet.

Dracaena raised a hand to the bars, her heart shattering as she took him in, watching as he shivered.

“See, he’s one of the tough ones,” the little man said, with a chuckle. “Just keeps to himself, terribly well behaved. Shame to see him go, really.”

Dracaena tightened her grip on her wand to the point she thought it might snap. She turned to the little man, letting her expression say everything she dared not voice, for if she opened her mouth, she would likely find herself in a cell of her own. The little man seemed to understand, because his sick grin slipped, and he hurried to unlock the cell door. She barged him out the way before he’d even pulled the key from the lock, striding inside and falling to her knees before the broken man she had loved.

“Sebastian?” she whispered, her Patronus sitting in front of the door and glowering. He didn’t move. “Sebastian, it’s time to go.”

He stirred, his fingers tightening on his sleeve. She reached out, brushing a hand over his arm, and he flinched.

“Bassy,” she whispered, the pet name she’d given him both foreign and familiar on her tongue. He tensed, finally raising his head. His chocolate eyes, once so full of life, were dull and defeated above hollow cheeks and a beard that reached his collar. Even so he was familiar to her, the rampant freckles scattering his skin like constellations a siren call to their bond. He blinked, focusing, and didn’t say a word.

“Bassy, it’s time to go,” she said again, cupping his cheek, sliding her thumb over the protruding bone, her fingers winding into the thatch of hair at the back of his neck. He flinched away again, his expression becoming fearful, his eyes darting around the cell.

“Happens sometimes,” the little man said sullenly from beyond the bars. “They forget who they are. Forget who they knew. He’s not said a word in five years, so don’t expect him to. He probably thinks this is some kind of joke.”

She shot another glare that could melt steel through the bars, then shifted her position, grasping Sebastian by the arms and standing, heaving him to his feet.

He came up with almost no resistance, and she staggered, almost flinging him into the air, horrified by how light he was. He made a small sound of muted alarm as he left the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, relaxing her grip. She grabbed for him again when he slumped, his legs refusing to support his weight. She glanced through the bars again as the Aurors stirred.

“We’ll have to drag him,” one said. “Prisoners sometimes forget how to walk, or they just don’t have the will.”

“You’re not dragging anybody,” she spat. She looped an arm around Sebastian’s back, bending to catch his legs, lifting him in her arms like a child. He tensed, then slumped, his head lolling against her shoulder. He was so light, so alarmingly fragile, as if he was made of parchment, ready to tear apart at the slightest movement. Her heart broke again, and her Patronus flickered as she cradled him. Without another word, she marched from the cell, heading for the doors, the other prisoners gibbering as she passed, begging her to take them too, to leave her Patronus, to kill them. She paid them no mind, focusing on holding Sebastian tight to her chest, his feet swinging, his breath rushing over her neck. His hands were folded on his stomach, and one of them slid to her, pinching the fabric of her cloak, then holding gently.

She held him all the way to the dock, refusing to release her grip as she settled back on the boat. She raised a hand to his hair, gently running over the back of his head. It left streaks of grime on her fingers, but she didn’t care. A deep, boiling anger simmered in her chest. Anger for what he’d been put through. Anger that anyone was forced to endure such a hellish place. But mostly, she was furious with herself for allowing this to happen, furious with Ominis for knowing what Azkaban was like, and letting him be taken anyway, the word of some unknown person sealing his fate.

It didn’t matter that they’d spent the next six years trying to find a way to free him. The damage had been done. She felt it in his trembling breath, in the way he held onto her cloak so gently, knowing in her bones that it was the tightest grip he could muster. She wrapped her arms around him more securely, resting her cheek against his forehead, whispering soft words of comfort as her collar grew sodden with his silent tears.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena carried Sebastian over the threshold of the halfway house in much the same way a groom carries his bride. She wasn’t blind to the imagery, and wondered if Ominis would do the same to her once they were married. Would he be able to navigate if his hands were full of her body and not his wand? Probably. He was astonishingly capable, to the point she often wondered if his blindness really was total, like he said. Perhaps he had some Seer blood in him that aided him. It would certainly go a long way to explain how he always seemed to know everything, even things he shouldn’t know.

She kicked the door shut in the faces of the Aurors that had accompanied them.

She eyed the living room of the halfway house, the low sofa facing the kitchenette and dining table. Through one of the doors was a little bedroom, and through the other was a tiny, cramped bathroom. It was towards this that she headed, conjuring a low seat, in which she deposited Sebastian. He was unresponsive as she stood back with a light sigh, gazing down at him and eyeing the stains left on her robes.

She pulled off her cloak and overrobes, standing before him in a simple pair of trousers and vest top, tossing her robes through the still open door, before kneeling down in front of him.

“First order of business,” she said, softly. “We’re here for a week, Bassy. We’ve got a to-do list, but I’ll take care of it as best I can. I’ll need your help, though. Can you do that for me?”

His throat worked a moment, then he gave a tiny, barely perceptible nod. Dracaena loosed a soft breath. At least he was listening to her.

“I think you’d feel a lot better after a shower,” she said, keeping her tone low and soothing. “Would you like that?”

Another miniscule nod.

“Can you take care of that, or would you like some help?”

No response to that. She tilted her head, waiting, her hands on his knees, until he glanced at her, his eyes lighting on hers and flicking away again like a moth fluttering about a lantern. They were still dull and hollow, curtained by the matted strands of his hair. She reached up and brushed a hand over it.

“I think we need to give you a haircut,” she said. “I can’t think of a single brush that can save it, I’m afraid, it's too tangled. Can I cut your hair for you? And maybe this?” she ran her hand over the wild beard. “Much as I think a beard suits you, it could do with a trim, don’t you think?”

A tiny nod, ever so slightly more vigorous than the last. She smiled, and reached behind her, fumbling in the cabinet for scissors.

“I’ll save what I can,” she said, taking a ropey strand of his hair between her fingers. “I can’t imagine you’d enjoy being bald.”

A miniscule exhalation. She tilted her head.

“Was that a laugh, darling?”

He didn’t answer, but leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. She set the scissors aside a moment and wrapped her arms around his back, alarmed to feel the bones of his spine poking through his skin. She held him gently until his arms rose, gripping the back of her top with a featherlight touch. He shivered, his breath trembling on the exhale. She held him tighter, pressing her cheek to his.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, circling her hand over his back. “You’re safe, Bassy. You’re out. You’re not going back there, okay? Once we’ve done what we have to here, you’re going to come and live with me and Ominis. We’ll look after you.”

She felt his jaw clench a moment, then he sat back, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. He held her gaze a long moment, before it dropped to her hands, resting on his knees again. He touched her ring, his skeletal fingers brushing over the emeralds and diamonds. He sighed, seemingly caving in on himself.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it over the rasp of his throat.

She could have cried, then. God only knew what he’d been thinking when he was trapped in that cell. Had he been hoping she’d come for him? That she’d have waited for him? Had he tortured himself with thoughts of other people getting close to her, loving her? Had he known on some level that she and Ominis would end up together, engaged, and soon to be married? Had he loved her as she loved him once, and wished it was he that slid the ring onto her finger?

What would he think if she told him of Ominis’ offer?

“Thank you,” she said. Best not to overload him. She should have taken her ring off, but it was too late for that now. She raised a hand to his hair again. “I… I’ll be honest, I’ve never done this before. It won’t be a brilliant job, but it’ll help.”

He gave another miniscule nod, and closed his eyes. She gazed at him a while longer, then picked up the scissors, sliding them through the matted tangle of his hair before closing them with a decisive snick.

_.-~*~-._

Shorn of his beard and most of his hair, Sebastian was beginning to look a little more like himself, though his face was terribly gaunt, his cheeks hollow, the sharp lines of his jaw standing out above his brittle neck. Dracaena vanished the pile of hair with a flick of her wand, then reached over to the bathtub, turning on the shower and holding her hand in the stream until it warmed to a comfortable temperature.

“Shall I leave you to it?” she asked. “I can give you some privacy.”

He didn’t answer, his hollow gaze turned inward, slumping slightly in his chair. She took his chin and tilted his face to hers, waiting until his eyes focused. “Bassy, do you want me to help?”

He blinked, slowly, his gaze turning distant again. With a light sigh, Dracaena lowered her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, slowly prying them open, one by one. At each, she paused, looking at him until he gave a tiny nod. She withheld a wince with some difficulty as she gently pulled it from his shoulders, able to see each rib through his skin, streaked with grime. Her heart broke a third time.

“Can you stand?” she asked, gently. “We should get these off too.” She touched the leg of his trousers. He didn’t answer, so she tucked her hands under his arms and rose, bringing him with her. He leaned against her, his arms rising to clutch at her back again as she nimbly undid the drawstring. The clothing crumpled straight to the floor, far too large for his frame. She averted her eyes, helping him step under the stream of warm water, lowering him to sit, and he drew his knees to his chest.

How many times in her fifth year had she wondered what he’d look like under his robes? Countless times, lying awake at night, or daydreaming in class. Now he was here it felt somehow wrong, like a violation to take the opportunity to drink in his form when he was so vulnerable. So she didn’t look, focusing on his face as his short hair plastered to his scalp, the water turning black as it streamed over his skin. She pressed a washcloth into his hands, and he held it, but made no further move.

“Come on darling,” she murmured. “Help me out a little bit?”

No response. With a soft smile, she picked up another washcloth and slid it over his back, applying light pressure to the more stubborn patches of dirt. Sebastian closed his eyes, resting his head on his crossed arms as she soaped his back, his grip on his own cloth tightening a little. And even though she resisted, scolding herself silently, Dracaena couldn’t help but look at him properly. Under the steadily vanishing grime, his back and shoulders were as freckled as his face, fading the further her eyes travelled down his spine and arms. He was a lot paler than she remembered, but then he’d gone from an outdoorsy, adventurous nerd to a prisoner in a cell, not a speck of natural light to be found. She’d have to make sure there was a decent spot in the garden for him to relax, once they were all home.

She nibbled her lip, glancing at his slender thighs, once thick. No freckles there. A few on his calves, none on his feet. She wrenched her gaze away before it strayed any further, and she slipped a hand under his chin, tilting his head back so she could get to his hair. He closed his eyes with a tiny sigh as she rubbed suds through the thick strands, massaging his scalp gently until she was sure every speck of dirt was gone. She pressed a hand to his collarbone.

“Sit up straight, darling,” she whispered. “I need to get to your chest.”

He acquiesced, leaning back until he overbalanced. Dracaena caught him with a startled yelp, an arm around his back, spluttering a little as her head and shoulders entered the shower stream. His legs stretched out as he slumped against her arm, his head turning to her shoulder, his eyes still closed. She caught her breath, blinking water out of her eyes.

“You alright?”

A tiny nod.

She took a breath, and keeping her gaze firmly fixed above his waistline, she moved the cloth over his torso, trying not to admire the fine hair dusting his chest, focusing on removing every speck of dirt she could see. She took her time, because at some point, she was going to have to try to convince him, again, to help himself. There was only so far she could reasonably go when he was so out of it, despite what Ominis had said.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look, or to touch… to taste. It wasn’t that she had any problems in taking care of Sebastian in whatever way he needed. It was that he was fresh out of Azkaban, barely four hours free, still confused and addled and traumatised and broken, and she couldn’t assume that he would want anything to do with her at all.

It was still difficult. She shifted, her arm around his back, propping him up as she gripped his shoulder, his head resting against hers, flipping her sodden hair out of her face, her top already soaked. She circled the cloth over his chest a final time, sliding it over his nipple, and he groaned.

The sound was so soft that she thought for a moment she’d imagined it. She paused, swallowed, and repeated the movement. He sighed, tucking his head more firmly against her shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a stirring.

Dracaena closed her eyes, willing herself to cool the heat rising from under her collar. She was his friend, that was all, helping him after a terrible ordeal. She couldn’t possibly take advantage of him, not now, not when he was vulnerable and needed her to help him. He wasn’t in his right mind. She had to be strong for them both. In time, perhaps she could, but…

She steeled herself and returned to the job at hand, sliding a bar of soap over his stomach and following it with the cloth. The water ran clear over his body, though it still pooled brown and grimy by his feet and legs, and-

She wrenched her eyes back up, glaring at the pale tiles of the bathroom wall.

“You going to give me a hand?” she asked. “I’m getting soaked.”

Again, no response. He slumped against her, his breathing perhaps a little quicker than before. Hardening herself, Dracaena took the washcloth to his thighs, scrubbing perhaps a little firmer than she had before, tucking a hand under his knee to bring his leg closer so she could still support him. Her back was beginning to ache, bent over the bath as she was, but she ignored the dull fire spreading under her shoulder blades, focusing on her task. All the same, she couldn’t help but notice how he shifted, widening his legs with another soft sigh, his hand sliding over her back to grip at her shoulder as she worked. She slid the cloth over the inside of his thigh, and a soft, almost strangled whimper passed his lips as he tilted towards her.

Dracaena had endured many trials in her life. Stopping a goblin rebellion, defeating a power-crazed, dragon-transformed lunatic set on killing her, as well as countless attacks from poachers and Ashwinders, defeating a powerful Dark Wizard in single combat and more. So much more. Still, if anyone had asked her in the later years what she found the most difficult trial of all, she would have said in a heartbeat that ignoring Sebastian’s throbbing erection as she washed him was among the top three.

She did steal a glance or five. She was only human, after all. And by God, he was beautiful. Not quite as long as Ominis, but thicker, a darker shade, the lush pink of Ominis’ love more a light burgundy with Sebastian, and the way he rested against his stomach, his toes curling as the shower stream rushed over him was more intoxicating than heroin. There was nothing more that she wanted than to wrap her hand around his length and draw him to the edge of bliss, to let him revel in the delights so long denied him, to hear him moan and whimper her name…

Again, Ominis’ assurances that he was not only fine with her playing away with Sebastian, but that he expected it ran through her mind. She loosed a soft breath as she moved the washcloth to his hips, his grip increasing on her arm as his breathing rushed past her ear. She set her jaw.

She couldn’t.

“I need to get some things ready,” she said, firmly. “Finish up, Bassy, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She waited until his grip on her arm loosened, helping him sit upright. It pained her to leave him alone, huddled and defenceless as she strode for the door, wringing water from her hair and drying it with a wave of her wand. But she had to. God and Merlin only knew what she would have done otherwise. He was too fresh, too vulnerable. How could she take advantage of him like that? How could she even think it?

Biting her lip, she settled at the small table and drew parchment and quill towards her, penning a short note.

My darling Ominis,

Sebastian is with me in the halfway house, and all things considered, he’s as well as he can be. I don’t want to alarm you, but he’s lost a lot of weight and isn’t very responsive, and I expect it will take some time before he’s better. You were right, he’s not as we remember, but I feel the old Sebastian is still there, somewhere.

I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to be home with you.

Dracaena.

She wanted to add another line, clarifying that Ominis had meant what he said, hoping he would change his mind, for if he demanded she remain solely his it would be easier to deny the stirrings she felt for Sebastian. But he wouldn’t deny her, he wouldn’t refuse. He’d almost been insistent.

She sealed the letter instead, opening the door and beckoning the owl perched nearby. It took the note in its beak and flew off, soon lost amongst the clouds. She took a breath, noting the dark figures leaning against the walls of the surrounding buildings, the curtains twitching in windows. She made a face and retreated back inside. Christ, with the number of Aurors surrounding them, it was almost like Sebastian was a mass-murdering lunatic, not a broken man who had paid a price far dearer than the death of his horrible uncle warranted.

She tilted her head as the sounds of running water from the bathroom shut off. She waited as a shadow moved beyond the open door. It seemed that Sebastian could get about by himself if he needed to. That was good. She moved to the kitchenette, opening the cupboards and grimacing. Simple foods like porridge oats, rounds of dark bread and rice nestled beside tins of nondescript meat and vegetables huddled on the shelves. Dull fare for certain, and she wished she could use her Ancient Magic to conjure something more palatable, but it didn’t work that way. Sebastian had always been fond of sweet things, and there wasn’t a gram of sugar to be found.

She pulled a few items down and set about making a simple meal of white fish and rice with a side of green beans, careful not to make too much. He’d need time to adjust to eating real food again, and she had no idea what he’d been forced to eat behind bars.

Dracaena turned at a slight noise to find Sebastian standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning heavily against the frame, a towel around his waist. He gave her the beginnings of a tired, shy smile, only the corners of his mouth twitching. She left the saucepan and rushed to him.

“There’s clothes in the bedroom,” she said, leading him, an arm around his waist as he slumped against her. “We’ll have some dinner and get you settled for the night, yeah?”

He nodded, a firmer, more decisive action than before. Depositing him on the bed, which creaked, she ferreted around in the old wardrobe, bringing out a selection of shirts and trousers.

“Any preference, or are you not fussy?”

He blinked slowly, his eyes on her, seemingly indifferent about the clothes in her hands. With a shrug, she picked out a dark shirt and pair of trousers, leaving them on the bed.

“I’ll leave you to it, darling, if you need-”

His hand found hers, and she paused, turning to him, finding the corners of his eyes glimmering.

His lips parted, his throat working a moment before his voice found its way out, hushed and rasping.

“This… is real? You’re… really here?”

She knelt before him, taking both his hands in hers.

“Of course it’s real,” she whispered. “Bassy… Ominis and I have spent the last six years trying to find a way to free you. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, you didn’t deserve Azkaban. You’re coming home with us, and you’ll never go back, alright?”

He nodded again, a tiny smile touching his lips.

“You… got me out?”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said. “We had to bully a lot of people, rewrite some laws, and build a case. It took ages, Bassy, but we never gave up. We just wanted you home with us.”

“And…” he drew a breath, as if the act of speaking fatigued him beyond all reason. “Anne?”

Dracaena hesitated. She knew this would come up, but she’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. The reason for his fighting, the reason for his research, the reason for his mistake. How could she tell him that the curse that plagued his sister had taken her life three years ago?

It would break him. Destroy him in ways that Azkaban never could.

“Time enough for that later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “What’s important right now is getting you back on your feet, alright?”

It was a poor answer, and she knew it. Sebastian had never been one to let things lie, least of all something as important as his twin, whom she had buried with Ominis on a beautiful hill overlooking Feldcroft on a blossom-strewn spring morning, the pair of them shedding silent tears not just for the senseless loss of life, but because it meant everything Sebastian had sacrificed had been for nothing. But Sebastian didn’t question her further, merely nodding again and releasing her hands, reaching for the clothes.

Dracaena returned to the kitchen in time to put out a small fire that had started in the pan. She swore and pulled out another tin of white fish, vanishing the blackened mess with a wave of her wand.

Sebastian joined her at the small table not long after, clinging to the walls and countertops to support himself until she hurried over, pulling his arm over her shoulders. Though his first mouthful of food was hesitant, he soon fell upon it like a man starved, going so far as to toss his fork aside and eat with his hands. Once he was done, he held himself still, staring at his plate before the hollowness returned to his eyes, and he withdrew into himself, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, staring at nothing as Dracaena pushed her plate aside, her appetite quite gone.

“You should sleep,” she said, softly. She rose and took his hand, drawing him to his feet and tucking an arm around his waist, leading him to the bedroom. She sat him down, helping him unbutton his shirt, pausing as she reached the hilt of his trousers.

“There’s… there’s pyjamas and things in the wardrobe,” she said. “I can get them for you?”

Sebastian didn’t answer, his eyes dragging with tiredness, but his hand snared hers as she rose.

“Stay?” he rasped. “Please?”

It took every ounce of her self-control to refuse.

“You’ll be alright,” she said. “You’re safe here, Bassy.”

His throat worked a moment, and he nodded, his hand sliding from her grip. Dracaena returned to the living room, setting the dinner things to wash and settling down on the sofa, conjuring a blanket and removing her clothes, lying down in just her underthings.

Ominis was on her mind as she settled to sleep, wishing he was here with her. She longed to feel his elegant arms around her, to reassure her, to comfort her as she wept silently for all the pain their dearest friend had endured.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena work to darkness and agonised, desperate screams.

She bolted from the sofa, her heart in her throat as she tore towards the sound, her mind conjuring horrors beyond mortal imagining as she burst into the bedroom. Sebastian was huddled in a corner, his arms splayed against the walls, his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes wild as he tried to press himself through the brick and plaster, cowering away from something she couldn’t see.

“Sebastian!” she dashed over, grabbing for his shoulders, and he lashed out, howling, the side of his hand connecting with her temple, and she saw stars. Shaking herself, she grabbed for him again as he fought against her, yelling wordlessly. “Sebastian, it’s me! It’s alright! Calm down, please!”

He pushed back against the wall, soft, keening sounds wrenching from his throat, his eyes unseeing as she wrapped her arms around him, gasping comforting words into his ear. Eventually, his arms rose to encircle her, burying his face in her shoulder and weeping helplessly.

“It’s alright…” she murmured. “It’s alright, darling. There’s nothing here that can hurt you. You’re safe.”

Sebastian just cried, clinging to her as she settled on his thighs, wishing she could hold him tighter, wishing she had more arms to wrap around him, to hold him more securely than she could, her hand circling over his back, the other wound into his hair as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“It was just a nightmare, darling,” she murmured. “That’s all. Nothing more. You’re alright.”

It took a long time before Sebastian was able to calm down, his frightened sobs becoming whimpers, quietening to harsh breaths as he grasped at her back, shivering so hard she thought he could power a small house.

“What was it?” Dracaena asked, leaning back a little and cupping his face. “Darling, what did you see?”

He shook his head, his face tear-stained, pulling her back to him and resting his head against her shoulder again.

“I-I’m… sorry,” he managed.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him. “Bassy, I’ve no idea what you’ve been through, but I’m here to help you. Tell me what you need.”

“Stay… with me,” he whimpered, holding her as tight as he could, though the strength of his arms was little more than strands of silk. “Please, Drac… Don’t leave me alone.”

With a muted nod, she tucked her hands under his arms again, levering him upright and guiding him to the bed, laying him down and tucking him in, before settling atop the covers. Sebastian turned over, his arm looping over her side.

“Will… you be… warm enough?” he whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Get some rest, love, I’ll be right here.”

“Come under,” he insisted, snuggling closer to her. “Please, Drac. I… I haven’t touched… another person in… years. I… I-I need to be close… to you.”

She hesitated, and Sebastian huddled up to her, his hands tight at her back, his skin fire against hers.

“Drac… I-I’m sorry, I-I know you’re… with Ominis, I don’t want… to upset you… or spoil that. I-I just need… to be close to you… please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Setting her jaw, Dracaena slid under the covers, wrapping her arms around him as he snuggled into her, his head against her collarbone, his body pressed to hers, almost as though he needed to become a part of her, to meld his flesh with hers, the pads of his fingers digging into her back.

She held him tight as he shivered, wishing she could take the pain he suffered and draw it into herself to shield him from the horrors he had endured. But she couldn’t. She could only lie there, holding him, stroking his hair as he pressed his face between her breasts, his skeletal frame wracked with shudders as guilt seared through every fibre of her being. She pulled him closer, and he groaned softly.

Dracaena couldn’t ignore the hardness that pressed against her, as much as she wanted to. Despite Ominis’ assurances, she needed to be strong, to show him she cared for Sebastian as more than just a vessel for carnal pleasure. She didn’t need that. As she was with Ominis, her own bliss mattered less than that of her partner, her delight being in when she brought him to the edge of paradise and sent him over, soaring on clouds of ecstasy. Would it be so wrong to gift the same to Sebastian, when her fiancée had condoned it?

Sebastian groaned softly, the tip of his erection nudging against the soft flesh of her abdomen, straining against his pyjamas. He nuzzled against her breasts, only the thin lace separating their skin. Dracaena drew a soft breath. No matter her concerns, perhaps this was what he needed. Had she not vowed to care for him, no matter what he needed? Her hand slid over his side, over the ridges of his ribs, gliding over the hollow between them and his hip, coming to rest on the sharp protrusion of bone. Sebastian whimpered softly, tilting his body towards her hand.

“Are you sure?” she breathed. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes…” he whispered, the word ragged, forged from a throat too unused to speaking. “Please…”

Still she hesitated, preferring to caress his body, worried that it would be too much for him, worried that no matter his assurances, Ominis would be hurt if she allowed herself to indulge, but Sebastian clung to her, the little strength he had poured into pulling her closer.

“Drac…” he whined softly, writhing against her as her hand sculpted over his chest and stomach. “Please, Drac… please, make me feel human again. Please, please touch me… please… I’ll do anything… I just… I need to feel alive again.”

And hell, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to make him feel good after everything he’d been through. She cupped his cheek, turning his face to hers, pressing her lips to his with a softness akin to featherdown and satin. But he responded with fire and fury, his hand clamping against the back of her head, pressing her close as his lips worked magic over hers, scattering the last of her restraint as she wrenched him to her.

His breath came in sharp gasps as she pushed his clothing aside, her hand dipping down to caress the length of him. He tensed, a low moan rising from his throat as she graced her hand along him, before his grip at her back tightened, and he flexed his hips, thrusting into her palm, each movement accompanied by a gasp.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Make me feel good, make me feel right… make me feel real, Drac, please.”

Dracaena sealed her lips to his, drawing his breath into her and sending it back as heaven and light, her hand gliding along his throbbing length, her movements careful and controlled. Sebastian loosed a long, deep moan that seemed to rise from the bottom of his lungs, as if such a sound had been too long caged and finally set free. He sank back to the pillows, his limited strength seemingly spent, his eyes rolling back as his lashes fluttered, and she favoured him with kisses that peppered his face and chased over his neck, pausing only at his chest to swipe her tongue over his nipple. Sebastian groaned, his head rolling from side to side, one hand at her shoulder, the slight pressure increasing as she kissed down his taut stomach.

She could take him any way she wanted. She could pin him down and ravage him until he forgot his own name, she could bend him backward and bury his delicious cock in her throat, she could even turn him over and work a magic inside him that she was certain too few wizards had ever had the fortune to experience. But Dracaena bore down on her desires. Too much could break him. There would be months, years, perhaps, in which she could show him all the wonders she had learned since being with Ominis. She could show Ominis what she learned from Sebastian. She could learn from them both, together, but only if she treated them right.

Sebastian moaned like a starved whore when she flicked her tongue over the flushed head of his cock, his head pressing back into the pillows, his free hand grasping a fistful of the sheets as she slowly kissed along his length. She tucked a hand under his hips as she nuzzled the inside of his thighs, taking a moment to savour the desperate sounds pushed up from the depths of his being, the hand at her shoulder moving to the back of her head, his grip weak but insistent.

She couldn’t deny him any longer. Dracaena flattened her tongue against him and drew it slowly to the tip, already weeping with slick, crystal fluid, his ribs expanding and contracting with each rapid, short breath, his stomach hollowing as his hips bucked towards her. Her free hand found his, and she laced their fingers together as she took him into her mouth at last.

Seven years of longing couldn’t have prepared her for the feel of him against her lips, sliding over her tongue, invading her throat, the deliciousness of his fevered skin, the subtle, peppered tang of his love so similar and yet so different to the gentle salt and sugar of her Ominis. Sebastian’s back arched, his legs falling apart, his hand winding into her hair as his grip on her hand trembled, his thighs beginning to quiver as she flicked her tongue over the underside of his head, so sensitive after so many years of neglect, his voice a wordless song of ecstasy. She sealed her lips and drew them along his shaft, rewarded by a series of frantic moans that rose in fever and pitch. She wanted to pull back, to slow down, to make him wait, the dominant side of her fighting for control, but even she was not that cruel. Instead she bobbed her head faster and faster, lashing her tongue against him until he all but screamed, his hips rising from the bed as his back arched in a curve Fibonacci would be envious of, the beautiful, creamy thickness of his passion coating the cavern of her mouth.

Dracaena drained him of every drop as if her life depended on it, relishing the way he quivered and whined, his body tensing and relaxing with each new flick of her tongue until she raised her head at last, his pale, freckled skin flushed a gorgeous rose, an arm draped across his forehead. She slid up his body to lie beside him, brushing his hair back and wrapping her arms around him as he curled into her, panting.

“You okay?” she breathed, and he huffed a breathless laugh.

“If… if I’d have known… if I had to go… to Azkaban for that…” he nuzzled into her. “I’d have… gone… long ago.”

Dracaena chuckled softly, winding her hand through his hair as he relaxed against her.

“Drac,” he murmured. “I… should have… told you. Back then… I should have said…”

“Shh,” she whispered. “You need to sleep, love.”

“I know,” he replied, already drifting. “But… I should have said… I love you, Drac. I… I always have.”

She held him close.

“I love you too,” she breathed as he slipped into sleep. “Forever and always, I love you.”

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