#thatswhatwizardsdo

He shivers as he walks through the frozen air. The start of term has brought with it frigid temperatures and ceaseless snows that cover everything in white. Finally, today, after what seemed like ages, it had gotten at least clear enough to creep out of the castle into the prickly air. 

Most people have stayed close to Hogwarts's walls, but he's ventured farther, and the snow has been unmarked for yards now...Which is why the sudden appearance  of footsteps give him sudden pause, and the appearance of scarlet drops splattered haphazardly across the otherwise untouched surface in front of him even more so. 

Immediately, his head shoots up, eyes narrowing, but there's only silence around him, only the snowy trees in any direction. He should probably let it be, let whoever...or whatever is bleeding, bleed in peace with the ice and snow, but curiosity eggs him on. He pulls his dark coat more tightly around him, thankful for the thickness of the fabric, the gloves and scarf that push out the cold.

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Thinking of Home

Sorry guys I sort of died because of uni assessment....but I'm back from the dead!

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I FEEL PRETTY OH SO PRETTY | OPEN

It doesn't take much to convince him, truthfully. Even beyond that fact that he's not going to say no to his father's direct request, he snorts to himself, order more like. He's learned that sometimes it's better to keep his mouth shut, which results in much more mouthing off to pretty much everyone else.

He's not sure what his dear old dad is after exactly, probably just trying to clean up his image again. But he barges into Balthazar's part of the house one night and declares that some student from Hogwarts has been taken into custody by the ministry. That it would seem sympathetic and kind if Balthazar were to be seen visiting in his plight; he's so young after all. It goes hand in hand with some position his father is trying to worm his way into.

And, his father pauses at the door, eyes narrowing, Balthazar will do it without creating a scene. 

He doesn't even bother to ask who it is, too busy with trying to get his father safely away from him, not that his father is ever far enough. But out of his space anyway. It becomes apparent soon enough anyway, the story splashed across all the papers.  He doesn't know why the fact that's it's Moriarty makes him more eager, that same dark part of him that had come out in the dungeon giving a lurch.

Perhaps it's because he's curious to see the other, no potions, no tricks, just them face to face, he's been fighting off the urge, in fact, for the whole end of term. But he knew there was no possible justification for wanting to see him except that his head wasn't screwed on right. A possibility, he admits, that's not too far off the mark. And having to explain to himself...to Herc, why he had gone to see the other, after everything. Well... he couldn't imagine formulating the words, so he hadn't, had held off. But every so often the desire to do so would sneak up on him, echos and images of being pinned to the wall, being fucked, would creep through his brain and torture his mind, some kind of craving for what had happened. And now, not only does he have a reason, he has no choice. The removal of the decision to see the other makes it easier. 

Though, some small part of him is eager for the role reversal, a revenge for his pride. 

It was Monday morning and Sebastian was on his way to his History of Magic class. It was the only lesson of the day and then he'd be pretty much free; which was nice. He hadn't heard from Jim, so maybe he'd have some time to himself to actually study a bit...maybe.

Or not.

As he approached the threshold of the classroom, a smaller student caught his wrist and shook him. His attention was immediately on the boy and he saw it was a Slytherin. Alarm bells and his hackles were raised in a second. "Y-you're, um, y-you-you're.." 

"I'm, what?" Sebastian pulled his wrist out of the grasp of the younger boy and eyed him; the height difference probably looking ridiculous to everyone else. Still, the kid looked terrified.

"You're S-s-s-seb-bbbb-Sebastian M-m--" He stuttered, voice failing him.

"Sebastian Moran, yeah. I'm Sebastian." The Hufflepuff tilted his head and, against his better judgement, the older boy crouched and let his bag slip from his shoulder. "What's wrong?" He looked into the boy's face as the other's skin turned white as a sheet.

"I-it's, ummm, it's J-jim, you have to come...quick!" And the boy grasped onto Sebastian's shirt collar and crumpled the material in his small hand.

"Mister Moran," the professor appeared at the door and Seb glanced up. "You'll be late in precisely 22 seconds...21...20..." The figure loomed until it was obvious the Hufflepuff wasn't going to move. "If I see that you're late anymore, it'll be Housepoints from Hufflepuff."

"Like I care about stupid Housepoints." He pretty much growled under his breath, turning back to the other student as he eased back to his full height and pulled his bag back onto his shoulder. "Lead the way, kid." 

They walked for a little while, the voice at the back of Seb's mind telling him that things were okay; that Jim probably wasn't hurt and this was one of his stupid jokes that they'd laugh about later. Yet, as the kid slowed and pointed up the hall to one wall, Sebastian knew it couldn't be good. Thanking the kid with a ruffle of the hair, the Hufflepuff moved up and pulled out his wand. 

Now, if he could remember the order of the stones. Yet, apparently, he didn't need to. As soon as he was about to tap out what he thought to be the rhythm, the bricks moved aside. Stepping through, thinking how long it'd been since he'd been up here, Sebastian moved up the stairs quickly. 

"Jim-" Lifting his head, hair flopped over his eyes, Sebastian immediately dropped his bag; the books heavy now, and crossed the small space to the bed. On it, sat Jim Moriarty; beaten and bruised. His face was bluing and the purples against his pure skin were a sight to see. Sebastian swallowed and crouched, hands not touching - but ghosting - at the Slytherin's jawbone; head tilting to analyse. 

His breath caught and he bit the inside of his cheek as he noticed the word - apparently burned into Jim's throat. It looked like it needed to be cleaned, all of it and Sebastian willed his body to move back to his bag. Because, being as accident - well trouble - prone as he was, the boy always carried a few antiseptic things, bandages and the like. Of course, he was okay at healing spells but not exactly great. He was better at causing magical harm than healing it magically.