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🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 5.4k words]

Never before had he really met a Muggle-born. He had no idea how naïve they were. How unprepared. Certainly, his family said they, and Muggles in general, were inferior, stupid, barely worthy to be at Hogwarts. Barely worth existing. But you weren't any of those things. You were just afraid.

In which, against the wishes of his staunchly pure-blood supremacist family, Ominis Gaunt befriends you, a naive Muggle-born Hufflepuff, and his life inexplicably changes.

Or, what happens when a pure-blood from an anti-Muggle family falls in love with a Muggle-born?

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant.

[MASTERLIST][NEXT] [read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

TW: familial abuse, blood/ injury, torture, fantasy prejudice/ racism.

1: Strawberry Laces

He calls you Gibberish, because sometimes that's all you speak.

In first year, Ominis remembers crossing your path after the Sorting ceremony. You, a shaky little Muggle-born, near no knowledge of the magical world and its machinations, and the depths of its cruelty. You, who only enjoyed wonder in everything: every moving painting, the candles that floated untethered, and the way the air hummed with something else, something ethereal. He remembers hearing your distinctive voice in the foyer outside the Great Hall.

He remembers how you, somehow, managed to get lost.

Your upbeat curiosity pealed like a bell amongst the sombre tension of the first-year Slytherins. For some reason, your hair is what Ominis remembers best. Later he would find out it was thick, bouncy wild curls pinched into two pigtails at the side of your head, but the first thing he recalls is the smell, faintly of something saccharine.

"You're in the wrong place."

A pause, presumably as you realised he was addressing you. "Aren't we going to the form rooms?" you asked, that high-pitched voice like birdsong at dawn. It was hard to forget, given the nervous squeal you made when you were called up to be Sorted. It was already ingrained into his head.

"You're meant to be going to the Hufflepuff common room," he said, frowning. Form. What was a form? He pointed his wand at the Hufflepuffs heading the other way through the hall. "Your house is over that way."

"Oh!" You giggled, a sickly sweet noise, and headed over. "Thanks!"

How did you even get them mixed up? Ominis still doesn't know. He didn't think about you again until the next day, when term officially began Charms. By chance, he was seated next to you. That smell again, that voice.

"Have no fear, Master Gaunt," cheered Professor Ronen, "I will be giving you more practical assignments, so you don't have as much writing to do."

That was some consolation, he supposed. Practical assignments played to his best strengths.

When Ronen moved on to check Adelaide's technique, Ominis heard your chair squeak. Heard the hiss of your clothes as you peered over. Something rattled on your face – glasses.

"It's... Ominis, right?"

He pursed his lips, displeased at the interruption. "Can I help you?"

"You're an actual wizard?"

"... What?"

"I mean, you know, you were born into this magic thing."

A pure-blood, is what you meant. "Yes. What of it?"

"That's great, because I just wanted to know... erm... which way around does the wand go?"

That had to be a joke. "You can't be serious."

"S-Sorry, I swear I'm not pulling your leg." Pulling your leg? You laughed nervously. "It's just— my wand is a little crooked, and it doesn't have a handle, like yours— so I don't actually know if I'm holding it the right way up or not, and I don't want to blast myself in the face."

A wave of that saccharine soap again. Ominis wrinkled his nose and continued practicing Wingardium Leviosa. Swish and flick. "Can you really not tell?"

"No..."

You sounded genuine. Not joking.

Hmm. Never before had he really met a Muggle-born. He had no idea how naïve they were. How unprepared. Certainly, his family said they, and Muggles in general, were inferior, stupid, barely worthy to be at Hogwarts. Barely worth existing. But you weren't any of those things.

You were just afraid.

"It's the tapered point that's the end."

"They're both thin."

"Let me feel it."

You hesitated. "Feel— it?"

"Well I can't look at it, can I?"

Another moment of hesitation. An intake of breath.

"Oh!" You nearly blew out his eardrums. "Sorry. You're blind!"

"Well spotted."

"I didn't notice."

"I figured."

You made an indignant noise and handed it over. His senses immediately flooded. It was an intimate sensation, to hold someone else's wand, especially that of a near-stranger. To feel the springy wood beneath his fingertips, the coarse grains of the wood. A light wood, airy. He was no expert on wands, and certainly no Ollivander, but he'd been touching and feeling things long enough to recognise details most sighted people would miss.

Yes, it was crooked, an odd shape for an odd person. He drew his thumb up the wand's janky spine.

"That's the top." He held the handle and offered it back to you. "There."

"Brilliant. Okay." You took the wand back. Cleared your throat. "Here goes then. Wingardium Leviosa!"

Something shifted beside him. A soft fabric drew up against his leg, raising higher and higher, past his head—

"Wait," Ominis spluttered, "is that my satchel?"

"It didn't— oh!" Panic fluttered through you. "No, no, no! Stop, wand! Un-Wingardium Leviosa! Erm, Spellus Stoppus?"

He didn't know how you did it, but even when he told you the right orientation, still you managed to point it the wrong way, the tip facing the bag by his chair, and Professor Ronen had to instruct you on the correct way by using chalk to mark the right end – after he got Ominis' bag down from the ceiling.

There are so many things he still doesn't understand about you.

Weeks into first year, when he'd learnt to adapt to your strange, Muggle quirks, your funny language and unwittingly explosive efforts in other classes, the two of you were doing homework on the lawn with Ominis' Slytherin dormmate, Sebastian Sallow. Sebastian thought you odd, too, but he had more exposure to Muggles than Ominis did – certainly more than the anti-Muggle disdain he received at home – and quickly warmed to your jolly attitude.

"It's strange. My dad hears all the confectionary chatter from America. Apparently this thing called peanut butter is making waves over there now." You grounded the sugar quill with your teeth – Ominis could hear it like a second heartbeat. "Doesn't that sound disgusting?"

"It does," marvelled Sebastian. "Butter and peanuts? What a strange combination."

"I know!" You rolled onto your back – and Ominis caught it again. Your scent. So intrinsically tied to you that every fresh wave made him feel comforted somehow. "You can't just put those two things together!"

"Your soap," Ominis blurted, and the conversation paused so abruptly that his cheeks heated. "What is it? It doesn't smell like anything I know."

"Oh, yes." Your voice was contemplative, sheepish as you pushed up your glasses. "I brought it from home. It reminds me of my family. Smells like our confectionary shop."

That didn't answer the question, and by his expression, you knew it.

"It's strawberry laces! You know? They're strawberry-flavoured, and they look like laces..."

"What in Merlin's name is a strawberry lace?"

"It's a type of candy! They're chewy and sweet!"

"Are they laces for your shoes?"

"No! That's just the shape of them."

Sebastian leant over crinkly parchment. "Do you mean red liquorice?"

"Yes!" You belted it so loud Ominis fell back. "Sorry! Sorry, yes. Red liquorice. That's its proper name."

"Then why didn't you call it red liquorice?"

"... Because it's strawberry laces. That's what we call them. It's my favourite treat."

"But that makes no sense! Why not just call it what it is?"

"Is it a Muggle thing?" Sebastian asked.

"No." A beat. "Maybe?"

Ominis scoffed. "You talk so much nonsense I can barely understand you sometimes."

You spat out your tongue. "Oh yeah, Ominis Gaunt? Mister, I Cast Whoopy-Doopy-Goopy to make your Thingimajig Ringadingdong?"

He spluttered, exasperated. "I don't sound like that! That's— that's just gibberish!"

"... Wait, is gibberish an actual language? Because goblins speak Gobbledegook, so..."

Sebastian howled with laughter. Your naivety was kind of adorable.

"The only one who speaks gibberish here," Ominis said, going back to his wandwork, "is you."

"Hmph!" You enunciated your indignation with such purpose. "Then maybe I'm fluent!"

And you were. You still are.

Neither Ominis nor Sebastian let you live it down, and the effects rippled throughout the first years. Sebastian's sister Anne found you adorably strange and joyfully brazen. Your Hufflepuff housemates enjoyed your humour and shenanigans. Even outside of your mismatched little groups, others in the the year, like Amit Thakkar and Garreth Weasley, thought you were a hoot, the silliest Muggle-born they'd ever met. Gibberish was your native language, and they all agreed. Soon everyone gave you the nickname. At one point it became Gibby. You pouted at each mention at first, but you grew fond of it eventually – then wearing it like a badge of honour. You adopted it, made it your own.

And even into second and third year, when the magical world became more familiar, you were Gibby.

Of course, you were never Gibby when Ominis wrote home. You were never anyone. It didn't take Ravenclaw wisdom to clock that his friendship with you was never considered proper. Pure-bloods, you learnt as quickly as he did, were the superior blood-status, and Muggle-borns the dregs left to rot at the bottom of the scummy barrel. That Mudblood was a slur of the lowest calibre. Ominis was shrewd enough to lie by omission in his letters back home, when his parents demanded to know about his friends and alliances. He simply never mentioned you at all, and all your adventures were given to Sebastian.

That didn't stop them from finding out.

"Who is she?"

Father had marched him to his study, made him sit. Even though a fire roared in the hearth, the place was cold, a slick tar against his skin. Even in the plushest chair, a high-back velvet with curling arms, he was the most uncomfortable he'd ever been. Even though he was blind, he could feel his parents' gaze like the tips of a thousand knives, pressed to the soft flesh of his throat.

"She's— no one."

"Don't lie to me," snapped his father. His mother was silent but complicit, by the way she paced from wood to carpet to wood again. "Edwin Malfoy said his son mentioned you frolicking around the school with some Hufflepuff. A Muggle-born."

There was no way he could deny it. Damn Peregrine Malfoy. They weren't in the same year group at school; why did he have to mention you at all? Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut? It had been three years already – what was another four?

Ominis contemplated what to say, urging his fingers to still, his toes to flatten. He could not betray his fear, betray the sudden rising heartbeat, the clamminess of his palms, nor the pure, unadulterated dread that roiled through him.

"It's— it's just Gibby," he forced out as calmly as he could.

"Gibby?" shrilled his mother.

"Not her real name," Ominis said quickly. "It's actually—"

"But she's Muggle-born?" his father demanded.

"Yes, but—"

"Have we taught you nothing, boy? Muggles, and their filthy spawn, are weak. Muggle-born magic is diluted, and therefore they are not worthy to wield it."

His mother was sobbing in the corner, like this extended hand of friendship he'd given to you, this supposed error, was grievous enough to tear a hole through her heart.

"Our bloodline is sacred. We are descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin himself! When you choose to associate with these disgusting Mudbloods," he spat the word, "you are sending a message that these interlopers can take our land, our magic and our privileges. They can encroach on what is rightfully ours. Did you know they used to burn witches? Even though, in every way, we are superior to them?" His father drummed impatient fingers on the marble mantelpiece. Each clack sent more and more terrified shivers down Ominis' spine. "A good thing Noctua went missing. Spending too much time with her addled you. Now we must have a more formal hand in your education."

Ominis didn't know how to respond to that. How could they say that about Aunt Noctua? "What do you—?"

A knock at the door cut through his words – Ominis immediately recognised the knock's low timbre. His older brother. Marvolo. Panic rendered him paralysed.

"Come in," called his father.

Ominis heard his brother's footsteps. Heard the cruelty of his smile.

"Is it time, Father?"

"Yes. Take him downstairs."

Ominis didn't speak. There was no point. Marvolo, of all his older siblings, was the cruellest, an exact replica of their father who despised Muggles and Muggle-borns, despised Noctua, and revered the family name and the bloodline as divine, rather than simply blood and sinew and a surname. His grip on Ominis' shoulder was hard enough to draw blood, curled into the muscle like claws.

They all went downstairs, silent. Ominis had never been to this part of the house before – sometimes, when the moon was highest, when he stowed quietly to the kitchens for a midnight nibble, he heard screaming. At first he thought it his imagination, the night playing tricks on his keen senses.

When he descended into the cellar, he realised for the first time that it was not the night's whims having their fun. The dark, after all, had never been so wicked to him before.

The smell was the first thing that hit him. A strong, tangy scent, coppery and unpleasant. Blood. He couldn't help a sharp intake of breath, which only left the taste on his tongue. The chill was second, as bone-deep as a tundra. By the echo of breath, the ceiling was low and poorly lit, for his father cast a Fire charm at the braziers besides the doorway.

There was a ruffle of cotton. A low murmur. Marvolo's grip ceased, and he roughly shoved Ominis forwards.

"Do you know what's in front of you?"

Tremoring, Ominis reached for his wand. In the time he'd bought it at Ollivander's, it had become something special to him. A way to navigate the castle, yes, but it was much more than that. Almost sentient. It seemed to know how he was feeling and how to react to it, just as it did now, pulsing like a wild heartbeat beneath his fingertips. At eleven he'd been sceptical of the phrase 'the wand chooses the wizard', but now he believed there was truth in it. His wand had shown him that magic was in the air, all around him – all he had to do was draw on it.

He reached out, trying to fit together the scattered pieces of feedback. The ruffles and strangled breaths and scratch-scratch of rope. The cold, as sharp as the ice they used to keep fruit and meat fresh. The overwhelming smell of blood and dirt.

"Is—" He shouldn't have second-guessed himself, not with his family present, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing, smelling, tasting, what he was potentially beholding. "Is that a person trussed up?"

"You missed an important factor," said his father. "This is no person. This is mud."

A Muggle.

The Muggle whimpered. There was some gag around their mouth, and yet Ominis deciphered every note of fear.

"But this is dangerous!" He went to hide his wand, but Marvolo's hand stopped him. "You shouldn't have brought—"

"We can do what we want," Marvolo said. "We're Gaunts, little brother, and this scum before you requires humbling."

Ominis swallowed bile. Perhaps errantly, your voice hummed in his mind then. Your laugh. He imagined hearing it. Imagined it was you tied to the floor.

"No," he said at once. "I won't do it."

"The Cruciatus Curse has been used to subdue our enemies for centuries." Pride flowed through his brother's words. "You should be overjoyed to have this opportunity. Your siblings and I were thrilled with our first Muggles."

They've tortured innocent people before. All his brothers and sisters – they'd all done it.

"But— I can't hurt them. T-They've done nothing wrong to me. They're just—"

"They are worms beneath our boots, and their very existence is an abomination." Marvolo gave him a rough jerk. "I taught you how to use Crucio."

Yes, but Ominis swore it was only for self-defence.

When he didn't reply, Marvolo spoke, "So cast it now, on the Muggle."

Ominis shook his head. Fear and panic ran his mouth dry. "I can't."

"You will, or so help me, boy, you'll be a disgrace to the family," muttered his father. "Cast it."

"No."

"Cast. It."

"I won't."

Marvolo's laugh rang out. "I didn't realise your spine was made of cotton, Ominis."

But Ominis was made of steel in that moment, for he couldn't imagine a better reason to defy his family than for the sake of Muggles and Muggle-borns. For you.

"I won't cast it."

"Then you clearly need some encouragement." And before Ominis could even process what that meant, Marvolo yelled, "Crucio!"

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pain, as he understood, was simply a reflex of the body to let the brain know something, somewhere, was wrong. A warning sign to cease whatever behaviour was causing it.

This was pain with no epicentre. There was no singular point that was bowing to the most pressure. This was all-encompassing and never-ending. This was his stomach and chest and heart, his brain and lungs, from the tips of his fingers to the knobs of his shoulders and knees and the ends of his toes. Every part of him, alight, doused in oil and set on fire through the concentrated rays of the sun.

Nowadays he doesn't remember that moment very clearly. The anguish was so great, he must've blacked out once or twice. Marvolo held it for a long time, longer than he needed to ingrain his foul teachings. All Ominis does remember is the pain, so acute that words fail to describe it, even to this day.

And the thought, back then, that his family could cause such pain, tore something inside him he would never be able to stitch back up.

When his brother released the curse, Ominis was curled up on the floor. Something wet lay beneath his cheek. Perhaps sweat. Perhaps spit. Perhaps blood, his own or the Muggle's. Perhaps even piss, for the curse had been too much for his bladder to handle. Every nerve ending on his skin was trembling. He'd let go of his wand somewhere in the room, and even now he couldn't sense it, like the pain had burned a hole where instead should be that bond.

"That is a Gaunt," said his father, pride sugaring his tone. "Your brother didn't hesitate."

Marvolo's voice was warm with mockery. "I have no qualms using the Cruciatus Curse on you, little brother, if it will teach you a valuable lesson."

What lesson could that possibly be? In the dizziness, Ominis couldn't untangle what the crucial moral was. It was a puzzle he couldn't solve, and perhaps never would.

"Would you like me to cast that on you again?"

"No!" Ominis managed to weep. He dribbled as he did, and shame burst through him. "N-No, please."

"Then get up," Marvolo hauled him to his feet, whether he was ready or not, "and cast it on someone who really deserves it."

Ominis is ashamed of the memory that follows. Sometimes he wishes he could alter it, pull it out of his mind like brittle thread and snap it into pieces, but then he wouldn't remember the valuable lesson he did learn that day. That his family were a cruel peoples.

And, as he raised his wand at his victim, that he was cruel now too.

"Crucio!"

Back near the end of third year, Ominis had found you climbing a tree on the school grounds. The wind was high and fretful – like his nerves, hearing you so far up, that carefree giggle carried on the current like bird's wings.

"Is that you, Gibby?"

"Ominis!" you chirruped. "You have to come up. The view is great!"

"I bet it's really swell."

"Sorry, sorry! I mean— oh, just come up! It's amazing, I promise!"

"You know you have a broom, right?" he called up, exasperated. "It's much safer than climbing trees! Where you could fall."

"I know! But this is all I've got back home, so I'd better get used—"

You let out a noise. The tree rumbled. There were four hard knocks that sent terror through him like lightning and a sudden thump on the ground like a knife to the gut. He rushed over to where you were crying out, breathless with pain. He'd never heard such a keening sound before, not in a physical, raw sense, where he could almost feel it himself. Pain that was almost too burdened to bear.

"Ugh, you're so foolish!" He nocked his wand skywards and sent out a flare. Hopefully someone would see it. "What have you hurt?"

You were in too much agony to reply – something had to be broken.

"I'm going to feel you, okay?"

You made a straggled noise he took for consent and pressed a hand to your arm. It came away wet. Blood. A broken and torn arm for certain then. You wheezed, too. Perhaps a broken rib. He pressed gently around, searching for the worst sources of pain through the leaf-ridden folds of your robes and shattered remnants of your glasses, but only when he reached forwards, felt the wetness around your upper lip and cheeks, did he realise you were choking from the blood of a broken nose.

He'd never felt a face before, not anyone outside his family. Yours was smaller than he'd expected. Your presence was so loud, so vivid, he'd expected you to match it physically as well. Even in the state that you were he could smell that sweet soap, and for some reason had the sudden urge to touch the rest of your face, explore how you were made, how the world shaped you.

"I'm going to staunch the bleeding." Instead he dispelled the thoughts and pointed his wand, enunciating as clearly as he could, "Episkey!"

A whip-like crack. You shrieked, but after a moment, your hysteria calmed, and he wiped the blood around your nose with his sleeve.

"I—" Tears filtered your winded voice. "I can't... move... my leg."

"It's probably broken too, like every other bone in your body," he retorted sharply. Good thing he'd had advance tutoring for healing spells. "I told you it was dangerous."

"I know," you bleated.

But his anger dissolved. There was no point rubbing it in your face. Whether he was right, or whether you had come down the tree perfectly well, you would've done it anyway.

"Can you last until someone comes to help?" he mumbled, lowering his tone.

"I can last."

"Good. I'll wait with you."

"Promise I... won't look into the light."

Ominis wrinkled his nose. "A sight joke now? Really?"

"No, no... it's a Muggle saying— never mind." A weighted pause. "Thank you."

He scoffed. "For being right?"

"Yes," you said softly, an admission. "But also... for being my friend."

Madam Blainey hurried over eventually and carted you away, cooing over your injuries, admonishing your actions, and Ominis stayed at your side until you drank every last acrid drop of healing potion, and you were fast asleep in the infirmary wards, at peace.

Even though you were silly, frivolous, an oddball who spoke fluent gibberish, he never wanted you to be in such pain again. He certainly couldn't imagine being the cause of it.

Which is why he swore on that day, after the Muggle had long since collapsed on the cellar floor, after his father and mother and brother delighted in his first successful cast of Crucio, that he would never again cause anyone such agony. Least of all you.

So in fourth year, he did his best to ignore you. To create a wide berth. And to find a way to escape his family.

He hung out more with Sebastian, even though his friend was slowly changing, ambitions growing. Both of them were equally matched in many things, like academics and opinions, and with Anne taking suddenly ill, trapped within the bindings of a unknown curse, Sebastian had his own demons about finding her a cure. They explored more outside – the countryside was huge, after all, and Ominis had always found the place intimidating for someone who couldn't see any of it. They lounged in the Undercroft more often – their own hiding spot to where they could escape the stress of school and home life and the increasingly pressing threat of a goblin rebellion. Mostly, Ominis went there to avoid you.

Sebastian quickly noticed you were missing from these adventures, though. Nothing much escaped his notice, even when his sister's illness consumed him – too shrewd to forget the giant girl-shaped gap in their homework brainstorming sessions, or learning questionable jinxes, or snacking on magical sweets. Ominis eventually confessed to what he'd had to do over summer – and what he would do to keep you safe.

"Very noble of you," Sebastian said, the wide, open walls of the Undercroft echoing his voice. "But you didn't have a choice."

"I did." Ominis shot at the dummy, again and again, to channel his frustration. "I chose to hurt that Muggle. I chose to cause them pain. And I couldn't have done it if I didn't want to."

"What else were you supposed to do then? Let your family hurt you again?"

"I should have! What I did to that Muggle... they're probably dead now..."

"Your family would've killed them regardless."

"That doesn't make it better!"

Sebastian yanked Ominis' shoulder, obliging him to stop, to listen. "You're being ridiculous. Your family forced you to hurt that Muggle. Now you're going to self-destruct an entire friendship because of them?"

Anguished panic stripped his insides raw, but he fought to contain it. "If they'll do that to some random person they found on the street, think what they'll do to her! My family isn't like yours, Sebastian. I can't risk Peregrine Malfoy telling on me. I won't."

Sebastian let out a singular, dark chuckle. "Don't you worry about Pretentious Perry. I'll sort him out." He exhaled, softening. "You ignoring Gibby isn't going to do anything but make you both upset. She's tenacious, and too loyal to us. She's just going to keep demanding an explanation until we give her one."

"Then she's going to be disappointed for a long time. Tell her whatever it takes to keep her away from me."

"You can't—" Sebastian let out a frustrated grunt. "You can't make me the mediator between you two."

Ominis turned back to the dummy. "I'm not asking you to. I don't care if you want to be her friend, but I won't. For her sake."

"Yeah? And what about yours?"

Ominis didn't have an answer for that.

He did manage to avoid you all autumn term. An excruciatingly difficult task, because teachers often paired the two of you together now – your chaos matching Ominis' order perfectly well. But he was cold to you, callous when you pried, outright mean when you demanded. You were as tenacious and loyal as Sebastian warned though. No matter what Ominis said, how rude he was, you never gave in.

Eventually the cold shoulder was all he could give emotionally. He was tired of drawing from the hatred that welled inside him, and turning it on you.

Over Christmas that year, Sebastian invited Ominis to stay with his family in Feldcroft, and Ominis agreed. So did the Gaunts, who knew the Sallows, albeit poor, to be a well-bred family, though perhaps less aware of Sebastian's more radical opinions on Muggles and Muggle-borns. It was good to see Anne, too – even sick, weak, body breaking down piece by piece by the curse, she was spirited and stubborn and filled the feminine void that was missing between him and Sebastian.

But she wasn't you. She could never replace you.

"Have you heard from Gibby?" she asked on one of her good days, when Solomon Sallow was mucking out the horses. She was tucked in bed still, wrapped in thick cloths and furs whilst the boys played Gobstones by the foot of her bed. "I miss her enthusiasm for Muggle sweets."

Before Ominis could speak, Sebastian declared, pouring on the smarminess, "They're not talking anymore."

"Oh?" Her curiosity was directed at Ominis. "Why?"

"We fell out," Ominis said through a clenched jaw, hoping his tone was enough to quiet Sebastian. "Nothing else to it."

"You and Gibby? Falling out? What did you do wrong?"

"Why do you assume it's my fault?"

"Because Gibby would sooner stake her own heart than argue with you."

Neither twin pressed, so Ominis didn't answer. Later that week, however, her prodding questions changed to sympathetic disagreement, and he suspected Sebastian gave her enough information to infer his reasoning. Unfortunately, Anne's thoughts on the matter aligned with her brother's, and though she frequently tried to convince Ominis of this fact, most of the time he couldn't stand to listen to it, and he simply walked out of the house.

She would never understand his decision. They did not have his family.

When Ominis returned to Hogwarts for the spring term, however, knowing Anne was partly right about leaving you in this middling state, he resolved no longer to hide behind feeble excuses. Sebastian was slowly seeking solace in the Dark Arts, something Ominis rejected vehemently, but even then there was safety with Sebastian's status that there never was for you.

He had to protect you by any means necessary. That meant it was time to end the friendship for good.

So it wasn't surprising when, on the first day back, he entered the Undercroft and found you standing there.

"Colloportus!"

The lock behind him clicked, the grille sealing shut. This infuriated him to no end – four years and your naivety still preceded you.

"You know I can cast Alohomora—?"

"Expelliarmus!"

The wand flew from his grasp, clattering somewhere to his left.

"That was excessive."

"Was it?" you challenged, coming up to him. Strawberry laces. "You've had the whole of Christmas to think about what a meater you've been, and I'm not going to let you start the silent treatment again."

Meater. Context was a useful thing at filling in Muggle-vocabulary-shaped gaps.

"How did you find this place?" he asked.

"I followed you, last term, when you were not talking to me."

"Why don't, for once, Gibby," he snarled, "you mind your own business?"

"You are my business!" you yelled – and there it was, the first inkling of pain. "Last year you were my best friend. You and Sebastian, and Anne too. Now she's sick and I haven't seen her in months, you refuse to talk to me and Sebastian won't tell me why!"

Ominis pushed out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Sebastian had done a terrible job at warding you away. Yes, you had spent more time with other people in your year, like Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur, and Garreth, Leander and Cressida and even the new girl, Natsai Onai. But still you crawled back to him.

"Like I said, it's not your business."

"I'm not accepting that answer."

"It's the only answer you're getting."

"Is it me?" you flung out. "Did I say something wrong? Did you get fed up with me copying your homework? Or showing Natty around? I know you pretend to despise everyone in that house. Or maybe it's personal? Have I been annoying? Do I smell bad?"

You never smell bad. He opened his hand. "Give my wand back, Gibby."

To your credit, when he asked for the thing that helped him make sense of the world, you retrieved it, no resistance, and placed it into his waiting palm. The brief touch sent a pleasant, unwanted current tingling through his skin.

"Is it family?"

Ominis snatched his hand away. "No."

"It is. It must be. You stayed at Feldcroft all Christmas." You softened. "You know you can tell me anything—"

"Butt out, Gibby."

"Ominis—"

"No. Listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once. I'm tired of picking up the pieces after you. I'm tired of your clumsiness and your stupidity. I'm tired of holding your hand and coddling you. This world is cruel, and since you haven't learnt it yet, maybe you will now. You don't need me, and I certainly don't need you. So leave me alone." Then the word slipped out, unbidden. "Mudblood."

Your gasp was drawn out, a long inhale that sucked all the light over an arid horizon. Ominis immediately regretted it. He'd caused that Muggle physical pain, he'd been a silent bystander as you fell off that tree in third year, but emotional pain, the crossing of a line that could never be turned back upon, the shattering of your heart into pieces no spell could mend... that was worse than any Cruciatus Curse.

"T-Take that back," you demanded, holding back a sob. "Y-You take that b-back, right now!"

He didn't. All he did was turn around and cast the Unlocking charm. The grille lifted.

You sniffled. Tears splattered onto the stone. In that moment, your sweetness had been stolen, your brightness dimmed. All because of him.

"You're a beast, Ominis Gaunt," you yelled as the lift churned into motion. "I wish I'd never met you!"

And he left you there, knowing you were right.

[MASTERLIST][NEXT] [Amazing art by Giselann, Divider credit]

[xxm0thm4n-ph4nt0mxx]

Attention future scholars

This is the first trial you would’ve been taken from your homes and beds to Proudfoot house to compete in the heart trial you will be tested on your integrity and kindness and teamwork and fortitude  in the face of disaster and injury and the unknown  importance to all members of the wondrous society your Objective - to find the injured and treat as many as you can before the time runs out show compassion to the injured

You have been put into teams which you must work with like your work with your unit if you become part of our society  to help the injured 

If you wish to become part of our society you must learn what it means to be. Part of the team are units are family you must work together.  and trust in your team 

Only those who serve, compassion, cooperation, integrity, and calmness in the face of chaosYou will not be judged on your strength, but in your compassion for the injured and your teamwork All these values, will earn you a place in the wondrous society 

Your roles have been carefully assigned based  on your behaviour at the garden party, and we have identified the individual  Best suited for each role who will be most effective under the stress of this trial

Now that you understand what is expected of you this here are the rules that will guide you through this task 

Heart trial Rules

1. Primary Objective

Locate and treat as many injured survivors as possible before the time runs out.

2. Teamwork Is Mandatory

you must work with your team

3. Survivor Cards Must Be Read

must read before treating the survivors to understand the conditions

4. No Sabotage allowed

do not sabotage the other teams this includes tampering or obstructing each other

5. Follow Role Assignments

Each scholar will be assigned a specific role:

Scout - tasked with finding and helping survivors

Medic tasked with treating Surviors Brough back by scouts and helpers

Leader leads the team

Helper helps scouts locate surivers and

Climber to collect survivors form high up

Stick to your assigned role unless directed otherwise by your team leader.

6. Proper Use of Equipment

Only use the provided tools as intended and only on survivor robots—not on other scholars.

7. Do Not Leave the Arena

Attempts to will result in disqualification.

8. Ethical & Unbiased Aid

All survivors must be treated equally, regardless of social standing or species .

9. Tracker Pads Must Be Carried

helpers will be given tracker pads with the location of of suriviors to assist scouts in finding the survivors and moving them to the treatment zone

10. Injury Cards Are Mandatory for Treatment

The survivors robots are equipped with cards with their injury must read before treatment begins

You will find your team attached below, and a member of the society will guide you to your room where you will receive your gear and be brought to your entry to the arena

Trust your team stay focus and show us who you really are  

Team 1

Leader: Adelaide Müller

Scout: Arrow Chapman

Medic: Jonna Szymański

Helper: Jude Bishop

Climber: Wren Xiao

Helpers:

Scout Harris

Felicity Zahraoui

Corey Gates

Reed Watson

Ansel Stone

Salem Newton

Daisy Vega

Rory Hill

Jacqueline ‘Jack’ Berg

Kalen Goodman

Leah Quispe

Mīlian Beck

Zoe Rossi

Harley Alexis

Felix Makonnen-Alexander

Olive Fitzwilliam

Esther Vernon

Knox Croft

Ivy Salah

Camron Hawk

Jay Ivanov

Avery Bates

Mariah Lee

Eden Abbott

Tabitha Weber

Theodora Kalonji

Briar Clausen

---

Team 2

Leader: Perry Holt

Scout: Salem Newton

Medic: Daisy Vega

Helper: Rory Hill

Climber: Zephyr Collins

Helpers:

Lauren Patel

Noa Grant

Selene Zahri

Toby Edmond

Casey Keller-Honey

Olive Rosenberg

Finley Higgins

Lyle Claude

Callen Glenn

Idrīs Green

Kiana Brown

Clara Novák

Gemma Yadav

Rafael Mead

Cathrine ‘Catty’ Singh

Finn Joss

Valentine Cross

Ari Young

West Swift

Mariah Lee

Romeo Hendrix

Katie Almeida

Ansel Stone

Camron Hawk

Knox Croft

Jay Ivanov

Avery Bates

---

Team 3

Leader: Jacqueline ‘Jack’ Berg

Scout: Zephyr Collins

Medic: Clementine Bielsky

Helper: Kalen Goodman

Climber: Reed Koch

Helpers:

Harper Irving

Ezra Kian

Cathrine Singh

Oak Hale

Devan Norris

Darcy Eaton

Maya Kido

Levi Bakhtiar-McAllister

Victor Cliff

Aurelia Bernstein-Levin

Eoghan Hart

Dorian Moon

Grace O'Connor

Félix Makonnen-Alexander

Eponine Lemoine

Katie Almeida

Avi March

Romeo Hendrix

Dean Eo

Henry Rees

Sawyer Quintero

Eoghan Hart

Scout Harris

Harley Alexis

Briar Clausen

Olive Fitzwilliam

Felicity Zahraoui

---

Team 4

Leader: Ansel Stone

Scout: Scout Harris

Medic: Felicity Zahraoui

Helper: Corey Gates

Climber: Reed Watson

Helpers:

Jade Tate

Jasper Tate

Jasper Bond

Noa Grant

Ophelia Bruckmann-Moehring

Scarlet Korrapati

Taylor Boone

Theodora Kalonji

Tory King

Vale Yates

Victoria Rios-Torres

West Swift

Weston James

Winfred Wolf

Wilfred Tavish Wolf

Wynn Lewis

Jude Bishop

Olive Rosenberg

Casey Keller-Honey

Victor Cliff

Olive Fitzwilliam

Wren Xiao

Perry Holt

Clementine Bielsky

Reed Koch

Leah Quispe

Ezra Kian

[shadowtriovibes]

break a sweat: chapter four

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Chapter Rating: E

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary:

“Leave it on,” he says in a low voice. “I want to see you in my jersey the entire time I’m taking you apart.” “Not so fast, Sallow,” you counter. “Let me give you a massage first, it will help with the soreness.” “A ‘massage?’” he asks hopefully.

AO3 permalink: break a sweat

November 6, 1892

Though you and Sebastian hadn’t set out to keep secret what had happened between you, you’re genuinely surprised that the news hadn’t spread overnight.

After your desperate, hurried sex following his first match, you’d spent a torturously long time properly discovering each other in the Room’s spacious bath basin. Hours later, you both managed to sneak into the raucous party in Slytherin’s common room with no one the wiser as to what you’d just gotten up to.

Ominis didn’t suspect a thing. Truthfully, what with half the school’s sixth- and seventh-years crammed into the common room and countless mugs of Butterbeer being passed around, he hadn’t noticed you weren’t there from the beginning.

Only Anne seemed suspicious, but she quickly got distracted when she saw Imelda lining up shots of Firewhisky for the Quidditch team. At that point, she determined that whatever it was Sebastian had snuck away to do for the past several hours wasn’t important, because he was about to cause even more trouble.

The next morning you wake well after the rest of your friends, pleasantly sore and content to daydream about Sebastian’s broad hands skimming across your body beneath the warm bathwater until breakfast is nearly over.

You’re less pleased by what you find when you eventually join your housemates in the Great Hall. You quickly learn the only gossip that had proliferated since the party ended is that the newly-muscled Sebastian Sallow is hands-down the best Seeker that Hogwarts has seen in years.

With such a reputation, it’s no surprise that he’s immediately bombarded with attention — especially from your female classmates.

Before you can even walk through the double doors, Anne links her arm through yours and starts to slowly walk you over to the table with an anxious expression on her face.

“Something has happened,” she warns you.

You groan. “Merlin, what now?”

“It’s Sebastian,” she says hesitantly. “Or I suppose if we’re being fair, it’s not him. It’s, well… everyone else.”

You glance over and catch sight of him at the end of the table. No less than half a dozen girls are surrounding him – some of them aren’t even in your house, you realize.

First, you notice that Samantha Dale is seated on his left and Adelaide is on his right, both listening intently and gasping delightedly as he recounts his victory from the previous afternoon.

Their audacity nearly makes you see red. You’ve been nothing but kind to those girls and have personally rescued members of both their families from various magical mishaps. Adelaide is your friend, and now she’s batting their eyelashes at your love right in front of you?

(The fact that you’ve kept your relationship mostly private thus far doesn’t have a chance to cross your mind.)

Then you observe several other Slytherin girls who are crowded onto a narrow section of the bench across the table. They’re leaning in toward Sebastian, ostensibly to hear his retelling, but you can see from halfway down the table that the top buttons of their blouses are conspicuously undone. Worst of all, that harlot Violet McDowell is standing behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders and looking positively smug.

Oh, you’re seething mad.

“I swear, they came out of nowhere,” Anne says nervously. “I went to ask Professor Weasley one question about an assignment and when I came back, they’d descended on him like a flock of jobberknolls. They even took my seat.”

The rational part of your brain finally takes stock of the situation and realizes Sebastian isn’t really doing anything wrong. For a split second, that boyish grin on his face as he waxes poetic about Quidditch reminds you of the man you’d fallen in love with in the first place – eager, earnest, and proud.

You can’t fault him for wanting to talk about his victory.

Don’t forget, he said he loves you, your brain reminds you. Just you.

Still, watching those girls try to monopolize his attention isn’t how you want to spend your morning.

“I think I’m just going to go back to the common room,” you mumble, gently unwinding your arm from Anne’s. “There’s no more room anyway.”

“Wait,” Anne pleads. “Sebastian’s not – he’d want you to stay, he’s been waiting for you all morning.”

You narrow your eyes. “It doesn’t look like he missed me that much.”

“He does,” Anne insists. “He came and told me about the two of you first thing this morning, he was so excited to get to see you. Those girls… he’s just a fascination to them, it doesn’t mean anything.”

You sigh self-consciously, glancing back one last time as Violet bends down to murmur something in Sebastian’s ear that makes him laugh.

“Just tell him he can come find me after he’s done entertaining the court,” you mumble, turning on your heel and storming out.

Sebastian does come to find you later that afternoon while you’re sulking in the library. Anne must have warned him that you were in a foul mood because he comes bearing gifts.

You jump slightly when he sneaks up behind you and murmurs, “Skipping breakfast? That’s not like you.”

You bite your lip and mumble, “Wasn’t hungry.”

“Really?” he asks skeptically, and you can hear the smirk in his voice without even looking at his face. “I thought you would’ve been starved after last night.”

“Sebastian,” you sigh. “I’m trying to study, what do you want?”

“I brought you a pasty,” he says, snagging an empty seat next to you and placing a napkin-wrapped pastry on the table. “Pumpkin.”

You pause jotting down notes from your book on magic theory, interestedly eyeing up Sebastian’s offering.

“Eat it,” he insists with a cheeky grin. “Lunch isn’t for hours, and I wanted to see if you’d like to take a walk with me.”

You unwrap the pasty and tear off a piece. “A walk?”

“Or I can study with you,” he offers. “Whatever you want, I just…”

He reaches over and takes your unoccupied hand in his as he murmurs, “I want to spend today with you.”

Truly, how can you be mad at him when he’s this lovely?

“Somewhere just us,” you bargain. “Without all the girls that want a piece of ‘Sebastian Sallow, Quidditch god.’”

He makes a displeased face. “They’re shameless. I told them I wasn’t interested as soon as I realized they didn’t actually care how many kilometers per hour I can fly.”

“I care,” you mumble, and Sebastian’s brilliant smile makes your stomach flip nervously.

“I know you do, and that’s why I love you,” he says, tipping your chin up so he can steal a sweet kiss, which quickly becomes more heated than is generally accepted in the library.

When he pulls away, he gives you a very pointed look. “Room of Requirement?”

“Room of Requirement,” you agree, scooping up your books and your half-eaten pasty as you both make a hasty exit.

—

November 17, 1892

With Quidditch practice eating up so much of Sebastian’s free time, you find yourself spending more and more time with Anne and Ominis as you study for your N.E.W.T.s. It’s in one of these study sessions that Anne reveals that she’s been studying independently with Nurse Blainey to master the science of healing magic.

“She’s a bit gruff, but she was always kind to me when I was first cursed,” she tells you. “And she’s got a brilliant mind for healing spells — she’s even studied at St. Mungo’s!”

As soon as you take a cursory look through Anne’s notes, you find yourself utterly enthralled. It’s not until several days later that you realize your ancient magic abilities could make you uniquely well-suited for such a discipline.

You write to Nurse Blainey straight away to ask her to take you on as a pupil as well.

An outbreak of dragon pox among Hufflepuff third years keeps her overwhelmed for nearly two weeks, but eventually, she invites you to her office to discuss your questions.

“Now then,” Nurse Blainey starts as she peers over a neat stack of Professor Fig’s old notes. “Can you tell me more about this ‘ancient magic’ ability of yours?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer nervously. “Well, er... I don’t think I can tell you where it comes from, because I’m not really sure myself. But I can sort of…”

You trail off and lift your hands from your lap. Bright, blue sparks emanate from your fingertips as your hands softly glow, and several of the picture frames on Nurse Blainey’s desk begin to levitate.

“Merlin’s beard,” she gasps. “Wandless magic?”

“I can use it with my wand as well,” you explain. “And… It seems to be generative.”

Her brow furrows. “I was reading about that in Eleazar’s notes, but I’m not quite sure I understand what he was getting at.”

You sigh and square your shoulders before you begin to explain the whole story: how Isadora Morganach used her abilities to extract pain — and eventually all feelings — from others, and how she used that power to create reserves of ancient magic.

By the time you explain how Isadora’s relentless efforts eventually led to her death, Nurse Blainey looks shaken.

“Am I to understand,” she asks softly, “that your abilities may allow you to extract pain from others?”

“Possibly,” you confirm. “But that’s not why I’ve come to you.”

She nods for you to continue, and gently you admit, “I want to learn if I can use my magic to treat pain, and perhaps even heal it — but not remove it.”

Nurse Blainey takes a moment to collect her thoughts, flicking through Fig’s notes once more.

“My dear,” she murmurs. “May I ask why, given the chance, someone with an ability like yours would not elect to simply remove pain entirely?”

Carefully you answer, “A very wise professor once told me that there cannot be light without darkness, and that having the ability to remove that kind of pain doesn’t necessarily mean one should.”

“I see,” she whispers.

“But — but perhaps I can use my ability to offer relief,” you suggest. “Not to extract anything, but… to give.”

Finally, Nurse Blainey smiles, folding her hands on her lap while she sits back contemplatively.

“I must admit, I’ve never seen such an ability before and I’ve no idea where to begin,” she admits. “But if you’re interested in further study of healing magic, I’d be delighted to work with you.”

—

November 27, 1892

Climbing all the way up to the Room of Requirement after one of his weekend Quidditch practices must be excruciating for Sebastian, you think.

After practice, he’s usually sore just about everywhere – from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, he positively aches. Having seen him in action, you know that he’ll often race upwards of a hundred kilometers on his broom simply doing laps around the pitch and tracking down the school’s enchanted practice Snitches.

To make matters worse, he’s forced to skip breakfast to be at the pitch by sun-up on strict orders from his captain, who goes on to keep the team well past eleven o’clock. Now he must be starving, but if you know your love, he’ll steadfastly ignore the temptation to go straight to the Great Hall for lunch and instead make the trek up to the seventh-floor corridor.

That’s precisely why you’re waiting for him there.

In the mornings when he has practice, you like to treat yourself to a bit of a lie-in and lazily wait around for his return so you can have lunch together. You would be happy to meet him downstairs when he returns to the castle, but lately, Anne and Ominis have protested whenever Sebastian joins the lunch table straight from practice still flushed, sweating, and covered in mud from the waist down.

Thus, Sebastian usually decides to be a gentleman and change first.

In the months since the start of Quidditch season and Sebastian’s first overnight stay in the Room of Requirement, he’s slowly started bringing in his belongings until he’d effectively moved out of the dormitories and into a shared nest with you. Most of his clothes were there by now, along with his endless piles of library books and his cherished personal collection of sporting novellas from Tomes and Scrolls.

You assume he’ll probably want to strip off his mucked-up robes and find something clean to change into so he can escort you downstairs for lunch. But despite the exhausting morning he must have already had, you don’t feel quite enough pity for your Sebastian to take it easy on him when he finally arrives.

Besides, you’re hoping to convince him (or perhaps seduce him) to let you test one of your newfound skills.

When he enters the room, he finds you lounging on the bed reading one of his beloved novels – wearing nothing but one of his Quidditch jerseys.

“Sebastian!” you call out happily as you look up.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he answers as he pushes the heavy door closed.

“You’re finally free,” you joke, closing your book. “I thought I’d have to come down to the pitch soon and challenge Imelda to a duel to get her to set you loose.”

“I won’t mind seeing that,” he laughs. “That would have been quite chivalrous of you.”

He shrugs out of his Quidditch robes and pulls his soaking-wet shirt up over his head. You watch longingly as his core flexes – all those hours on a broom have made him exceptionally well-defined, and you wish you could simply get on your knees right then and there to spend your morning tracing your tongue over every delineated band of muscle.

“You know,” he teases, pulling you from your reverie. “I had planned to just put on a clean shirt to go down to lunch, but it seems you’ve nicked my spare.”

“Did I?” you say, feigning innocence. “I just grabbed the first thing I could find, I swear.”

Sebastian glances at you skeptically before sitting down at what has become “his” desk to take off his boots. You frown when you catch him wincing while he bends at the waist.

“Are you hurt?” you ask him softly.

“No,” he insists. “Just sore all over.”

“Bash,” you croon. “Poor babe.”

“Come off it, I’m fine,” he laughs. “I just need some food and a nice long bath and I’ll be grand.”

You climb off the bed and saunter over to him in his chair, appreciating the way his eyes skim across the hem of his pilfered jersey. With every step, your hips sway and tease him with quick glimpses of the tops of your bare legs.

“Are you sure?” you ask sweetly. “Because if you’re feeling poorly, I can take care of you.”

Not even the promise of dry clothes and a warm meal could pull Sebastian’s attention from such a tempting offer – especially not while you’re wearing his clothes.

He sits back in his chair while you kneel in front of him to carefully unlace his Quidditch boots. After you take off his pads as well, it’s just too easy to climb onto his lap and wind your arms around his shoulders.

Sebastian’s gaze dips down to the space between your legs. He lays one palm flat against your thigh and uses his thumb to ruck up the hem of the jersey just a bit.

“You haven’t got anything on under this, do you?” he asks knowingly.

“Not a stitch,” you breathe.

Sebastian groans quietly and wraps an arm around your waist to hold you tightly against him.

“Leave it on,” he says in a low voice. “I want to see you in my jersey the entire time I’m taking you apart.”

“Not so fast, Sallow,” you counter. “Let me give you a massage first, it will help with the soreness.”

“A ‘massage?’” he asks hopefully.

When you merely raise an eyebrow at him, he looks simply crushed.

“You’re joking,” he says flatly. “You… you actually mean to ‘take care’ of me? In an actual ‘nurse-me-back-to-health’ sort of way? Nothing lewd?”

“I mean both the regular way and the devious way,” you laugh. “But if you’re aching right now, it’s not going to be much fun for you.”

“You are sincerely wrong about that,” he argues, but you’re undeterred.

“Let me do this first,” you bargain. “I promise you’ll feel better afterward.”

There’s a bit more whining and attempts to seduce you as you wriggle free of Sebastian’s lap and tug on his arm so he’ll walk over to the bed. He strips down to the garment layer he wears beneath his uniform pants and kindly allows you to shove him onto the bed.

He’s peering up at you expectantly, obviously hoping you’ll cave and climb onto his lap once again.

“Turn over, Sebastian,” you say with a fond eye roll. “On your stomach.”

“You’re evil,” he gripes. “A wicked, malicious sorceress.”

Sebastian reluctantly turns over onto his stomach so that you can sit astride his hips. As soon as you rest your weight on top of him, he exhales tiredly as if he’s just set down a towering stack of books at the librarian’s desk – like he’s let go of a weight he hadn’t realized had slowly become so burdensome in his arms.

“Relax,” you murmur. “I’ve got you.”

Then he tilts his head to rest on his folded hands. You know he can’t quite see you at this angle, but you still catch just a glimpse of his warm brown eyes before they flutter shut.

Go on, he says without words. Touch me. I trust you.

You think you could just stay here all day with your hands on his slightly chilled skin. Warming him up to your touch, you skim your hands across his firm shoulder blades, along the tops of his sun-kissed shoulders, and then down the solid expanse of aching muscle in his back. He’s so broad beneath you, you think, even on his stomach. Without his height to add to the imposing figure he usually cuts, he nevertheless looks perfectly capable of rolling you off of him should he desire.

Knowing that there’s very little he could desire less sends an excited shiver through you. It’s a privilege, getting to be gentle with a man like Sebastian.

After all, except for when his hands are on your body, Sebastian is anything but gentle. He’s headstrong, impulsive, and obstinately ungovernable when he knows he’s in the right. Physically, he’s grown into a body that matches.

You shouldn’t be surprised that despite playing as a Seeker, Sebastian is not the kind of athlete who relies on being lithe and quick on his broom. Whenever he finds himself in a dead heat for the Snitch, he routinely throws his whole body into a maneuver and hurdles himself into his opposing Seeker to knock them off their path.

He’s brutish on the pitch and offers no apologies for it, though he will extend a gentlemanly hand whenever he bests the other Seeker to their prize.

Worst of all is that he has no fear of mutually assured destruction. He wants to win, sure; but more importantly, he wants the other team to lose. If that means both he and his opponent must crash into the ground in a pile of torn sports robes and grass stains before being hauled up to the Hospital Wing by an exasperated Nurse Blainey, so be it.

(Needless to say, you aren’t the only one who calls him “Bash” anymore.)

You consider all this while you quietly work through some of the larger knots that have built up in the muscles of his back. His body has kept hold of a momentous amount of trauma over the years, and if you can help dissolve even a fraction of it with your hands, you’ll be overjoyed.

Carefully you splay the palms of your hands against his bare skin and concentrate hard on spreading warmth and relaxation through the striations of Sebastian’s muscles. Just as you’d practiced with Nurse Blainey, you visualize your magic wrapping through the infinitely small tears and bruises he’s endured to diffuse a relief that emanates a warm, purplish glow you can genuinely see.

(You’d managed to close a simple paper cut earlier that week, but Sebastian’s body has taken a more significant beating.)

“What’s happening?” Sebastian asks, his voice slurring.

“How do you feel?” you whisper.

“Incredible,” he breathes. “Are you…? Is this magic that you’re doing? Your ancient magic?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” you admit softly. “Healing magic, ancient magic… It’s a bit of both.”

“How did you–?” Sebastian asks before trailing off in a lazy, satisfied moan. “Merlin, it feels good.”

“Anne’s been showing me some of the healing magic she’s studying with Nurse Blainey, so I’ve joined her,” you say softly. “It’s actually quite interesting, Anne is very talented with–”

“No more talking about Anne for a little while, love,” Sebastian grits out. “Just – just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. Please.”

You giggle softly while you slide your hands down further to the base of his spine, where you know for a fact he carries an unjust amount of tension. It’s precisely there that he stores his worries about upcoming N.E.W.T. exams, his all-important role on the Quidditch team, and the pressure he puts on himself to succeed so he can take care of Anne once you all graduate – you too, now, even though you insist you’ll be equals in every way possible.

“Feeling a bit better?” you ask him hopefully.

“Can’t remember the last time I felt this good,” he mumbles. “You should be a Healer.”

“Maybe someday,” you demur. “For now, I rather like the idea of only doing this for you.”

Sebastian’s soft groan sounds like one of assent.

You channel magic through him for a few more moments until you notice that he finally feels less inflamed beneath your fingertips. Then you let the glow fade away until it’s just you and Sebastian, no more magic thrumming between where your bodies touch.

He’s quiet for several long moments and you wonder whether you might have simply magicked him to sleep.

“Bash?” you whisper. “Are you alright?”

All of a sudden, he’s remarkably alive beneath you. He tilts one hip to tip you off of his back and onto the bed beside him, earning an annoyed huff out of you when you land on your rear. But before you can put the words together to protest, he’s parting your legs with his hands so he can settle between them and rucking up the jersey until he can see your bare core.

“You’re incredible,” he tells you earnestly. “I feel better than I have in months, love.”

“Th-that’s good,” you stutter, a bit bewildered.

He continues, “And I’m going to return the favor right this minute.”

You barely have time to blink before he’s kissing you breathless and rocking his hips against yours. You gasp sharply into his mouth and he swallows the sound, pressing his tongue against yours in that filthy way that he knows gets you soaking wet for him every single time he does it.

“Bash,” you whine. “Slow down a little.”

“Not a chance,” he says against your neck. “I want you, you made me need you.”

…Merlin, did you?

You try to focus while Sebastian stretches out the collar of his own jersey to suck claiming bruises along your collarbone. Did you overdo it on the healing spell? Possibly imbue him with a little too much “love?”

But then he confesses, “You’re irresistible in my clothes like this, d’you know that?”

You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize that that’s what’s got him so worked up. It’s you in his colors, his rumpled clothing with his damn name emblazoned on your back.

That quickly gives you an idea.

“Let me turn over,” you grunt as you try to squirm out from underneath him. “Sebastian, please.”

He looks thoroughly displeased when you sit up, so you placate him with one more filthy kiss before he won’t have access to your mouth for a while. Then you settle on your elbows and knees, jersey shoved up to the middle of your waist.

Sebastian says some foul words under his breath when he sees you present yourself for him. You wish he’d just bury himself in you, patience and preparation be damned. Together the two of you have discovered that there’s a time and a place for slow, intimate lovemaking just as much as there is for desperate, urgent, feral fucking.

You know which one Sebastian is craving.

“Take me like this, Bash,” you say breathlessly. “So you can see whose name I carry.”

He leans over you and drags his hand across the “SALLOW” stitched in thick, white letters across the broadest part of the jersey’s shoulders. Then he lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl as he grinds his hips against yours.

“I need to be inside you,” he grunts. Behind you, you can hear him shoving his base layer down his thighs before he drags two fingertips along your slit and uses your wetness to stroke his cock. “I can’t be patient.”

“Don’t be,” you insist. You sway your hips invitingly and arch your back. “I’m ready.”

“You need my fingers,” he tells you. “I’ll give you enough, I won’t hurt you.”

You stun him by reaching a hand back and showing him how you can press two fingers against your entrance that easily sink inside. You moan softly at how different the angle is from how you usually touch yourself, but it works to get the point across to Sebastian.

“I’m ready,” you repeat. “I was waiting for you.”

Sebastian traces a thumb along your slit beside your fingers, pulling you open a bit to let himself look his fill as you spread your wetness around wantonly.

“Is this what you were doing while I was at practice?” he asks. “Laying in this bed in my clothes, playing with your pussy, and thinking of what I’d do to you when I got back?”

Now that’s a word he most certainly picked up from those Muggle books he likes to read, but it makes you squirm desperately nonetheless.

“Yes,” you whimper. “B-but I waited for you to finish.”

“That’s a shame,” he murmurs. “I suppose I’ll have to make sure you’re properly seen to, since you’ve been waiting so long.”

He presses his thumb against your entrance with your two fingers and when you can easily take it inside as well, he decides you’re indeed plenty ready for his cock instead. His gentle hand on your wrist coaxes you into pulling out, and then he lines himself up and starts to press inside.

You whimper his name as you collapse onto your elbows. He feels impossibly big like this, and despite your insistence that you were ready for him, it’s a toe-curling kind of stretch that has you panting and trembling beneath him while your body alternates between its animal instincts to rear back or submit.

“Good, you take me so well, love,” he groans. “How do you feel?”

In answer, you loudly groan into the pillow you’ve bunched up beneath you.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself,” he says smugly. “Hold on tight for me, alright?”

After a few easy thrusts to ensure you’re properly braced for the full weight of him, Sebastian starts to relentlessly pound you down into the mattress. He supports you with his forearm wrapped beneath your hips and one broad hand pressing into your back – right below where his name is inscribed.

You’re fiercely loud in bed with him, but even when you’re whining and nearly sobbing for him, you can’t drown out the sound of his foul mouth.

“Take this cock,” he grunts. “Take it all, it’s what you wanted, right? For me to fill you up?”

“Yes!” you wail, knowing he expects an answer.

“That’s right,” he growls. “You want it all, I’ll give it all to you, always.”

He leans over your back and grinds in deep and you feel a twinge that isn’t entirely pleasure, but you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop – it’s too good, especially when it’s straddling the line of being too much.

“I’m gonna give you everything,” he confesses into your ear. “My seed, my name on your back, I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Give it to me,” you slur. “Go on, Bash.”

“I will love, I will,” he grunts. “But I’m finishing you first.”

He keeps murmuring filth into your ear while he works a hand underneath you to rub quick, firm circles against your clit the way he knows you like. He talks about how sweet you are for him, how you’re the best thing he has, how he wants to keep you right here for as long as you’ll let him, but whether he means in this bed or in his arms you can’t possibly know.

He deftly works you to a breathtaking climax – quite literally you lose your breath, and he just keeps drawing it out with his eager fingers and his cock buried deep in you for so long that you wonder when it will ever stop. When it finally relents, you rest your cheek against the pillow and lie boneless, content to let Sebastian hold your hips up so he can work himself toward his finish.

“Want you to keep it all inside,” he says mindlessly. “Keep it in, keep my jersey on too, fuck–”

When he spills in you, he grinds his sensitive cock against your hips for as long as he can take it to make sure you stay full of his spend. Then when he pulls out, he tucks that damn jersey back down over your ass as if to make the claim, Our work here is done.

You lay exhausted on your stomach while Sebastian cozies up behind you. Within minutes of catching your breaths his stomach growls, so you know you won’t be there for much longer, but neither of you seems to be in any hurry to untangle yourself from the other.

Eventually, you have to ask him, “...So, ‘my name on your back,’ hmm?”

You expect him to blush and stammer, or start talking about how maybe, someday, when he feels like he’s satisfied some sort of ridiculous goal that will make him feel like he deserves it, that could be a reality.

Instead, he kisses behind the hinge of your jaw and murmurs, “I meant it. Whenever you want it, it’s yours. Just say the word.”

“Fine, but if I get the name, I get to keep the jersey,” you sigh.

He buries his nose in your hair and happily mumbles, “I think we’ll have to negotiate that one.”

[amarantine-amirite]

Ripple Effect

Eleanor was the last person to exit the school on the last day before Christmas break. Or so she thought. Two tenth graders hid in her blind spot, followed her, and then shoved her into a locker.

Those two dipshits had marked days off on their calendars as they eagerly counted down the days to the week before Christmas, the week they could be as naughty as they wanted. One of them found a loophole in the Naughty And Nice List. If Santa checks who's been naughty or nice all year, there is a seven-day grace period before Christmas where you can be as naughty as you want and get away with it.  

Only the threat of getting coal in their stockings kept those two kids in line. With the fear of not getting gifts gone, both of them metastasized into complete psychopaths.

And the result? When the holiday break ended two weeks later, the school custodial staff had to remove Eleanor’s cold, lifeless, emaciated body from the locker. The family couldn’t host a funeral until the first week of February due to a simple condition known as a lack of money.

Eleanor’s funeral left much to be desired. They had the funeral in the auditorium at school because it was the cheapest place Eleanor’s parents could afford. They had Eleanor cremated ahead of time. Her ashes sat in a Murano glass vase. Other than a minister, speakers included Eleanor’s mother, those grad students of hers who never knew what they were talking about, a few teachers, and all 72 kids in tenth grade. Their attendance was mandatory. 

Yolanda showed up wearing a black and green dotted mermaid dress with a high slit, feather hemline, and frilly halter corset top, a four-layer necklace with an oversize cross, fishnet stockings, and black vinyl boots. Her boobs nearly fell out of the dress and it fit tightly enough to grab her rolls of fat. She also brought her guitar with her.

Lily-Anne may have arrived in a more tasteful outfit than Yolanda, but she was definitely in a worse state of mind. Even though she showed up all cried out, she was so upset over the loss of Eleanor but she had trouble walking and couldn’t keep anything down. Adelaide had to help Lily-Anne to her seat, but she couldn’t go anywhere near her until she was empty. Waiting until Lily-Anne stopped throwing up took way longer than it should’ve. 

Yolanda looked around and saw the kids pull out their notebooks and go over their speeches. Penelope tapped Lily-Anne’s shoulder and asked, “Lily-Anne, what happened to your notebook?”

Lily-Anne sat there in disbelief. “What?” she gasped quietly.  

“You know, after these guys are done, then we have to give speeches”

Lily-Anne shook her head. “That's a joke, right?” she asked tensely. 

“No joke,” Yolanda reacted, “It's like 75% percent of your English grade, too.” She gestured to her guitar. “I’m already covered because I’m doing that thing with Eddie, Penelope, and Adelaide.” 

Not only were the speeches or musical performances worth 75% of the kids' English grades, but the school would live stream the student speeches on the internet for everyone in the world to see and possibly laugh at. The teachers received instructions from Eleanor's family to factor online responses into the grade.

 “That's just not right,” Lily-Anne whined, “It's bad enough that my best friend just died, but now they made her funeral into a homework assignment? That is beyond wrong.” She then made a beeline to the champagne bucket because she felt like she was going to barf, but only got as far as falling out of her seat.

“Hey, you're lucky, Eddie whispered, “I still have to go up there and play the violin. I'm so nervous.”

“But you play the violin well, you don't need to be nervous,” Yolanda commented, completely ignoring the fact that Lily-Anne still lay on the floor. Thankfully, she just dry heaved. 

Eddie blinked. “Uh…no. I don't. If my dad finds out I can't play the violin, he'll kill me.”

Sadly, Eddie had a point. He can't read a note of music and most likely never showed up for a single lesson. 

Meanwhile, Adelaide had a problem far bigger than Eddie’s incompetence. Everybody would see the frets on her upright bass.

After sound waves go in your ear and bounce off of your eardrum, it goes into something in your inner ear that looks like a snail shell. The snail shell converts it into the signal your brain registers a sound. However; Adelaide’s brain isn’t connected to the snail shell. As a result, she’s completely deaf.

Because of this, she has frets on her upright bass. People who play string instruments in the violin family freak out if you have frets. They go on and on about how "it ruins the sound", "if you have frets, you'll never learn how to play properly" and so on.

The frets are an assistive device, not a crutch. It’s like a blind person having a screen reader on their computer. She didn't have time to tell a crowd of edgy strangers to stop fretting about frets. 

As the event progressed, Adelaide realized she didn’t have much to be concerned about as she thought. Her classmates gave terrible speeches full of garbage not even remotely related to who Eleanor was as a person, or even how she died. Nearly all of them had read the Wikipedia page for some random court case, didn't understand it, and panicked accordingly. Someone well-versed in law would have responded to them with OK, English is not your first language, you don't have a law degree, you're 16 years old, and you wrote this at 2 AM when you couldn’t sleep, shut up. 

Only one kid didn’t do this. Kevin somehow thought the funeral was a theater audition. Nobody knows what kind of play he was auditioning for as his “audition” consisted of juggling invisible fruits. 

The other thing you could do for this assignment was a musical performance. Only 11 kids took this route. The five solo performances, duet, and quartet were slightly better than the speeches, but not much. The bulk of the kids couldn't sing, nor could they play instruments. They all played either “My Heart Will Go On” or “Over the Rainbow”

Yolanda, Eddie, Adelaide, and Penelope took the stage. Had Eddie worn something better than denim shorts and a tuxedo T-shirt or Yolanda‘s outfit had been less ostentatious and fit better, they would’ve looked exactly like a Celtic Woman knockoff.

They played “Eternal Flame” by The Bangles. Or at least, just Yolanda and Adelaide did. It became obvious that Eddie couldn’t really play the violin. Penelope gave him a bad time. 

Penelope shot Eddie a glare comparable to a cat who wants his litter box cleaned out. "It's not that hard, Eddie. C, D, and G," she uttered with an edge of disgust, her frustration evident.

She glared as Eddie continued to watch SpongeBob SquarePants on his phone. "Your father said you played beautifully,” Penelope barked, “What gives?" Her patience with Eddie wore thin.

Eddie's eyes darted around. He quickly realized that this was the moment everyone could see through his lie.

Out of nowhere, Adelaide uncorked this hilarious rap during the bridge:

death blow

when someone blows you up, it's not you

it's something else entirely, like puking on the laundry

death blow, we're gonna miss the death blow

I'm a soft banana, yo

please to make me feel like something 

feel like absolutely nothing

what the hell was that?

You’d be forgiven for not understanding why Adelaide decided to do that. It probably didn’t matter. Only a handful of people reacted to it. 

The drama teacher shrugged his shoulders and mouthed "What?" The chemistry teacher looked down at his hip flask and wondered what the hell he just drank. One of the parent chaperones tried not to laugh. The superintendent shook her head. What the hell was that, indeed. 

Everybody else either felt excruciating emotional pain because someone so young had died so suddenly or felt fed up with being force-fed blustery rhetoric interspersed with awkward renditions of so-called “important” songs like "My Heart Will Go On" and "Over the Rainbow". 

Thanks to Kevin's disastrous “audition”, the video of the funeral went viral. Some record executives saw the music performances. By some miracle, the duo and three of the soloists got signed to a record label. As for Yolanda and Adelaide, they got the opportunity to write the theme song for the next James Bond movie. 

@lyralit

[bestmoversadelaide]

Moving Office in Adelaide? Here’s What You Need to Know

Relocating your office in Adelaide is a significant milestone for any business. Whether you’re expanding to a bigger space, moving closer to clients, or upgrading your workspace, an office move is a complex task. From planning and logistics to managing staff and equipment, there’s a lot to handle.

In this blog, we’ll guide you through the essential steps to ensure a smooth office relocation. With professional support from trusted office removalists in Adelaide like Best Movers Adelaide, you can manage the entire process efficiently and minimize business disruption.

1. Start with a Detailed Moving Plan

The success of any office relocation begins with thorough planning. Begin preparing at least 2 to 3 months in advance to avoid delays or last-minute issues. A detailed plan should cover:

Finalizing the moving date

Setting a realistic timeline

Notifying employees and vendors

Updating addresses on business listings

Booking experienced office movers in Adelaide

A clear roadmap will keep your move organized and help maintain productivity during the transition.

2. Choose Experienced Office Removalists in Adelaide

Moving an office involves much more than just shifting desks and chairs. Sensitive documents, IT systems, and valuable office equipment require careful handling. That’s why hiring skilled office removalists in Adelaide is essential.

At Best Movers Adelaide, we specialize in commercial moves and provide:

Custom packing for electronics and hardware

Secure transportation of sensitive files

Dismantling and reassembling of office furniture

Flexible moving schedules (after hours, weekends, etc.)

Our team ensures that your relocation is completed on time and with the utmost care.

3. Assign a Move Coordinator                      

Having a move coordinator — whether it’s a dedicated staff member or external consultant — helps keep everything on track. This person should manage communication between your team, service providers, and the moving company.

Their role includes:

Creating checklists and task assignments

Coordinating with IT and telecom providers

Managing vendor communications

Monitoring progress and solving issues on the move day

Having a single point of contact streamlines the entire relocation.

4. Keep Your Employees Informed and Involved

Office relocations impact everyone in the company. Keep your staff in the loop by holding team meetings, sharing updates, and assigning specific tasks related to the move.

Encourage employees to:

Pack their personal items

Label their workstations

Clean out old or unused materials

Involving your team creates a sense of ownership and helps ease the transition to the new location.

5. Organize IT Infrastructure Carefully

IT systems are the backbone of modern businesses. When planning your move, prioritize the safe relocation of your digital assets and communication systems. Here’s how to prepare:

Backup all data securely

Label and disconnect all devices and cables

Coordinate with your IT provider for reinstallation

Test systems at the new office before reopening

Many office movers in Adelaide, like Best Movers Adelaide, offer IT relocation support to minimize downtime.

6. Declutter Before the Move

Take this opportunity to review and declutter your office. Dispose of unnecessary items, old furniture, outdated hardware, and documents you no longer need.

You can:

Recycle unused electronics

Donate surplus furniture

Shred confidential files

Digitize physical records

Decluttering can significantly reduce your moving costs and help start fresh in your new office space.

7. Notify Clients, Suppliers, and Stakeholders

Make sure your business address and contact details are updated everywhere:

Google Business Profile

Company website and social media

Email signatures and newsletters

Local directories and supplier databases

Notify clients and vendors at least two weeks before your move to avoid communication gaps.

8. Schedule the Move Strategically

To minimize business interruption, consider moving during weekends or after business hours. Many office removalists in Adelaide offer flexible timing to suit your operational needs.

Best Movers Adelaide provides tailored moving schedules to help your business relocate without affecting customer service or employee productivity.

9. Plan the New Office Layout in Advance

Before the move, create a layout plan for your new space. Decide the placement of desks, meeting rooms, storage, and common areas.

Share the layout with your moving company in advance to:

Speed up unloading

Minimize rearrangement later

Ensure efficient use of space

This preparation allows your team to settle in faster and resume operations smoothly.

10. Conduct a Post-Move Check

Once the move is complete, perform a full walkthrough to:

Check for damages or missing items

Ensure all utilities are functioning

Confirm IT systems are operational

Review staff feedback and satisfaction

Also, take time to celebrate the successful move — even a small team lunch or office tour can boost morale after a big transition.

Final Thoughts

Relocating an office may seem daunting, but with proper planning and expert support, it can be a smooth and rewarding experience. From coordinating logistics to setting up your new space, every step plays a crucial role.

Choosing reliable office movers in Adelaide like Best Movers Adelaide can make all the difference. With years of experience, professional equipment handling, and a customer-first approach, we help businesses transition with minimal disruption and maximum confidence.

[cookeryassignments]

Cookery Assignment Help in Australia Expert Academic Support for Hospitality Students

Introduction to Cookery Courses in Australia

Australia is a leading destination for students pursuing hospitality and cookery qualifications. Programs such as Certificate III in Commercial Cookery, Certificate IV in Kitchen Management, and Diploma of Hospitality Management prepare students for exciting careers in the food and hospitality industries. However, along with hands-on training, these courses involve theory-based assignments, projects, and case studies that can be quite demanding. This is where our cookery assignment help in Australia becomes a reliable academic partner for students across the country.

Why Students Need Cookery Assignment Help

Cookery courses include a range of subjects like food safety, kitchen operations, team management, budgeting, and preparation techniques. Students often juggle long practical hours, part-time jobs, and short deadlines. Completing complex assignments within the given timeframe becomes a real struggle. That’s why many turn to professionals offering the best assignment help in Australia to meet academic expectations while staying focused on their practical training.

Our Specialized Cookery Assignment Services

At CookeryAssignments.com, we provide premium assignment help in Australia tailored specifically for cookery and hospitality students. Our service is designed to meet the academic standards of TAFE colleges, universities, and registered training organizations. Each assignment is carefully crafted by experts who understand both the theoretical and practical aspects of culinary education. From food safety plans and workflow charts to inventory documentation and recipe costing — we cover it all.

Courses and Units We Cover

Our cookery assignment help is available for all levels of study, including:

SIT30821 Certificate III in Commercial Cookery

SIT40516 Certificate IV in Commercial Cookery

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We also cover individual units like SITHCCC027 Prepare Dishes Using Basic Methods of Cookery, SITXFSA005 Use Hygienic Practices for Food Safety, and SITHKOP010 Plan and Cost Recipes, making us your one-stop solution for hospitality and cookery assignment help in Australia.

Why We Are the Best Assignment Help Provider

We take pride in being recognized as one of the best assignment help providers in Australia, and here’s why:

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Who Can Benefit from Our Services?

Whether you’re a domestic or international student studying at a TAFE institute or hospitality college in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, or Perth — we’re here to support you. Our cookery assignment help in Australia is tailored to the specific curriculum and expectations of your course. From first-year students to final-semester learners, anyone who needs trusted and best assignment help can rely on our services.

Contact Us Today

Ready to boost your grades and reduce stress? Let us handle your assignments while you focus on your kitchen skills. Visit www.cookeryassignments.com or contact us via email at cookeryassignments@gmail.com or phone at +61 3 9016 2672.

[pteltdxelware]

Master IT Infrastructure: Windows Server Administration Course in Australia

In today’s digitally driven world, servers are the foundation of every business’s IT operation. From hosting applications and managing user access to maintaining data security, servers do it all—and the professionals who manage them are critical to every organization's success. If you’re an IT professional in Australia looking to enhance your system administration skills, the Windows Server Administration Course in Australia offered by Xelware is your ideal next step.

This course is specially designed for both aspiring and experienced administrators, giving you practical, real-world skills to configure, manage, and maintain Windows Server environments effectively. Whether you're aiming to boost your resume, prepare for certification, or support your organization's infrastructure more confidently, this training is your gateway.

Why Learn Windows Server Administration?

Windows Server is one of the most widely used operating systems for managing enterprise-level IT infrastructure. It powers file servers, domain controllers, DNS, DHCP, and much more. With the continued growth of hybrid environments—mixing on-premise and cloud technologies—the need for skilled Windows Server administrators is only increasing.

By mastering Windows Server administration, you can:

Improve the performance, stability, and security of IT environments

Manage networks, users, and policies with precision

Ensure business continuity with proper backup and recovery practices

Reduce system downtime and boost productivity across the organization

Become a key resource in IT operations, infrastructure design, and support

What You’ll Learn in the Course

The Windows Server Administration Course in Australia from Xelware is based on Microsoft’s official curriculum and is updated to reflect the latest best practices and technologies in system administration.

Key areas covered include:

Installing and configuring Windows Server roles and features

Managing Active Directory Domain Services (AD DS)

Implementing DNS, DHCP, and IPAM

Maintaining server performance and monitoring systems

Ensuring security with group policies, file permissions, and firewall configurations

Automating tasks with PowerShell and administrative templates

Performing regular backups and disaster recovery

The course also emphasizes practical labs and case studies so you can apply what you’ve learned in realistic scenarios.

Why Choose Xelware in Australia?

Xelware is a trusted name in professional IT training, known for delivering industry-relevant content with expert instruction. Their Windows Server Administration Course is tailored for Australian learners and businesses, offering flexible schedules, local time zones, and trainers with hands-on experience in enterprise IT environments.

Here’s what sets Xelware apart:

Instructor-led sessions delivered live and online across Australia

Microsoft-certified trainers who teach from real-world experience

Interactive labs and assignments that build job-ready skills

Certification preparation and guidance to help you succeed

Post-training support and resources to reinforce your learning

Whether you're in Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide, Melbourne, or working remotely from any corner of Australia, Xelware makes high-quality IT training accessible to you.

Who Should Take This Course?

This course is ideal for:

IT support professionals seeking to move into system administration

Network administrators wanting to broaden their expertise

System administrators responsible for Windows-based infrastructure

Students and recent graduates looking to specialize in server technology

IT managers who want to better understand their infrastructure

A basic understanding of networking concepts and the Windows operating system is recommended, but the course is structured to guide learners at all levels.

Final Thoughts: Build a Reliable IT Backbone

Every successful business relies on stable, secure, and efficient server infrastructure. As a Windows Server Administrator, you’ll play a vital role in ensuring the smooth operation of IT systems. The Windows Server Administration Course in Australia from Xelware gives you the skills and confidence to take on that responsibility with expertise.

[clean-advice]

Best Adelaide Home Cleaning Services: Top-Rated Cleaners for a Spotless Home

Keeping your home clean and well-maintained is essential for a comfortable and healthy living environment. Whether you need regular house cleaning, deep cleaning, or end-of-lease cleaning, hiring a professional Adelaide Home Cleaning Service can make your life easier. With so many options available, choosing the right cleaning service can be overwhelming. This guide will help you explore the best cleaning services in Adelaide and what to consider before hiring one.

Why Choose a Professional Adelaide Home Cleaning Service?

Many homeowners struggle to find time for thorough cleaning. A professional Adelaide Home Cleaning Service ensures that your home stays spotless and hygienic, allowing you to focus on more important things in life. Here are some key benefits:

Expertise & Experience: Professional cleaners have the skills and equipment to clean efficiently and effectively.

Time-Saving: Hiring a cleaning service allows you to focus on work, family, or relaxation.

Health Benefits: A clean home reduces allergens, dust, and bacteria, improving indoor air quality.

Custom Cleaning Plans: Choose from regular, deep, or specialized cleaning services based on your needs.

Stress-Free Living: Enjoy a cleaner, organized home without the hassle of cleaning yourself.

Top-Rated Adelaide Home Cleaning Services

Here are some of the best Adelaide Home Cleaning Services that have earned excellent customer reviews and provide high-quality cleaning solutions.

1. Fantastic Cleaners Adelaide

Offers residential and commercial cleaning services

Provides deep cleaning, carpet cleaning, and end-of-lease cleaning

Eco-friendly cleaning products

Flexible scheduling options

2. Maid2Match Cleaning

Well-trained and insured cleaners

Satisfaction guarantee with re-clean options

Affordable pricing with no hidden fees

Same-day service available

3. Simply Maid Adelaide

Background-checked and experienced cleaners

Convenient online booking system

Services include regular, deep, and move-out cleaning

High customer ratings and reviews

4. Jim’s Cleaning Adelaide

Wide range of home and office cleaning services

Customized cleaning packages

Competitive pricing and reliable service

Uses environmentally friendly products

5. MyHome Adelaide

Specializes in regular and one-off home cleaning

Trained and insured cleaning staff

Advanced home cleaning techniques

Professional and courteous service

Choosing the Right Adelaide Home Cleaning Service

Selecting the right Adelaide Home Cleaning Service depends on several factors. Here are some things to consider before hiring:

1. Check Reviews & Reputation

Look for companies with positive online reviews and high customer ratings.

Ask for recommendations from friends or family.

2. Verify Services Offered

Ensure they offer the specific cleaning services you need (e.g., regular cleaning, deep cleaning, end-of-lease cleaning).

3. Compare Pricing

Get quotes from multiple services to find competitive rates.

Check for hidden charges and ensure transparent pricing.

4. Confirm Insurance & Certifications

A reputable cleaning service should have insurance coverage for damages or accidents.

Certified cleaners ensure better service quality and reliability.

5. Eco-Friendly Cleaning Options

If sustainability is a priority, look for companies using eco-friendly products.

Tips for Maintaining a Clean Home Between Professional Cleanings

Even with a reliable Adelaide Home Cleaning Service, maintaining cleanliness between professional cleanings is essential. Here are some quick tips:

Create a Cleaning Schedule: Assign daily and weekly cleaning tasks.

Declutter Regularly: Reduce mess by organizing and discarding unnecessary items.

Use Quality Cleaning Supplies: Invest in good cleaning products for quick touch-ups.

Clean as You Go: Tidy up immediately after meals or any mess.

Ventilate Your Home: Open windows to reduce dust buildup and improve air circulation.

Conclusion Finding the best Adelaide Home Cleaning Service can make a significant difference in your home’s cleanliness and overall well-being. Whether you need routine cleaning, deep cleaning, or specialized services, there are numerous professional cleaning companies in Adelaide to suit your needs. By choosing a reputable and reliable cleaning service, you can enjoy a spotless home without the stress and effort of cleaning yourself. Start your search today and experience the benefits of a professional cleaning service!

[brightendofleasecleaningadelaide]

A Calm Approach to Cleaning: How to Stay Organised Without Stress

Cleaning can often feel like an overwhelming task, especially with busy schedules and endless responsibilities. However, maintaining a clean and organised space doesn’t have to be stressful. By adopting simple strategies and staying organised, you can transform cleaning into a manageable and even satisfying part of your daily routine. Whether you are tidying up your home or preparing for an extensive task like end of lease cleaning Adelaide, the right approach makes all the difference. This guide will walk you through practical tips to keep your space spotless without feeling overwhelmed.

Establish a Consistent Cleaning Routine

A consistent routine helps keep your home tidy without stress. Assign specific tasks to certain days to avoid last-minute rushes. Cleaning becomes part of your day, not a burden. For those moving out, a routine makes end of lease cleaning easier. Visit Bright End of Lease Cleaning Adelaide for expert help.

Daily cleaning prevents dirt and clutter from building up. Set days for each room, like Monday for bedrooms and Tuesday for bathrooms. This method keeps your chores simple. If you need vacate cleaning Adelaide, regular cleaning means the final deep clean is more effortless.

Purge Clutter Before Cleaning

Clutter makes cleaning more complicated. Start by clearing small spaces like a drawer or shelf. A clean space is easier to manage and brings peace of mind.

Sort items into keep, donate, recycle, or discard piles. Decluttering helps you stay organised, especially for vacate cleaning. A tidy space means fewer things to clean and less stress.

Divide Tasks into Achievable Segments

Break big tasks into smaller ones. Focus on one area at a time for steady progress. This method helps you stay motivated.

Set short time blocks for each task. Spend 15 minutes dusting, then another 15 vacuuming. This keeps cleaning simple and organised. For big jobs like bond cleaning Adelaide, dividing tasks ensures every part of your home is clean.

Infuse Mindfulness into Cleaning Practices

Turn cleaning into a calming activity. Notice the smell of your cleaner, the smooth surface after wiping, and the sound of sweeping.

Stay present while cleaning to reduce stress. Focus on your movements and the changes you make. Use a bond cleaning Adelaide checklist to stay on track and cover all tasks.

Invest in Efficient Cleaning Tools

Good tools make cleaning faster and easier. Microfiber cloths and quality cleaners save time and effort.

Use practical tools like strong vacuums and eco-friendly products for the best results. For thorough jobs like the end of lease cleaning checklist, quality tools help leave your space spotless.

Set Attainable Goals

Aim for progress, not perfection. Set cleaning goals that fit your life and keep your home tidy without exhausting yourself.

Small goals, like cleaning one room a day, prevent burnout. For big tasks like vacate cleaning Adelaide, break it down step by step.

Delegate When Necessary

Ask for help when you need it. Get family, housemates, or professionals involved. Sharing tasks makes cleaning more manageable, especially during bond cleaning Adelaide.

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Embarking on an Academic Excellence Quest with Adelaide Assignment Help Outline of the SARAH’S Story

Introduction: Setting the Stage

In the heart of Adelaide, amidst the bustling streets and vibrant culture, lies a hidden struggle faced by international students pursuing their academic dreams. Among them is Sarah, a bright and ambitious student from Malaysia, who embarked on her journey to Adelaide with high hopes of achieving academic success.

Chapter 1: The Challenges Begin

As Sarah delved into her academic courses at the University of Adelaide, she quickly realized that the road to success would not be easy. The rigorous coursework, combined with the language barrier and unfamiliar academic standards, left her feeling overwhelmed and uncertain about her ability to excel.

Chapter 2: The Need for Assistance

Despite her best efforts, Sarah found herself struggling to keep up with her assignments and coursework. As deadlines loomed and grades began to suffer, she knew that she needed help to navigate the complexities of academic writing and meet the expectations of her professors.

Chapter 3: Discovering Adelaide Assignment Help

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Chapter 4: The Transformation Begins

With the help of Adelaide Assignment Help, Sarah embarked on a transformative journey towards academic excellence. From essay writing to research paper assistance, she found herself equipped with the tools and resources needed to succeed in her coursework.

Chapter 5: A Beacon of Hope

As Sarah's grades began to improve and her confidence soared, she realized the invaluable role that Adelaide Assignment Help had played in her academic journey. With each assignment completed with precision and finesse, she felt empowered to tackle any academic challenge that came her way.

Chapter 6: The Revelation

Through her experience with Adelaide Assignment Help, Sarah came to understand the true value of academic support and guidance. With the assistance of dedicated professionals and personalized assistance, she was able to unlock her full potential and achieve the academic success she had always dreamed of.

Conclusion: A Journey Towards Success

In conclusion, Sarah's journey with Adelaide Assignment Help serves by Assignment Expert as a testament to the transformative power of academic assistance. With the support of dedicated professionals and personalized guidance, she was able to overcome the challenges of academic writing and achieve her goals. For international students in Adelaide struggling with their coursework, Adelaide Assignment Help offers a beacon of hope and a pathway to academic excellence.