#wip: final legacy

[choccy-milky]

MC doing what we all wished we could do (aka napping on the floor with ominis )😴💕

[anto-pops]

Heart of Vipers - Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader

Summary: After an ill-fated confrontation with Ominis' family, you come to learn that they want you for themselves. More specifically, they want your abilities for themselves. Ominis is less than pleased with the revelation and returns home with the intention of proving that the only person you belong to is him.

Alternatively summarized as Dominis turning into a possessive alpha male in the wake of his family's sudden interest in you.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, minor depictions of violence, explicit sexual content, rough/possessive sex à la Dominis

Descriptions of Marvolo and Aleister Gaunt heavily credited to legacyshenanigans

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (as always with more eclectic tags)

This was a bad idea. Truly one of the worst ones you had come up with in recent times– which was saying something when you stopped to consider all the stupid shit you’d gotten yourself into since starting at Hogwarts. But this was a decision born of desperation, and one that you adamantly refused to go back on. 

Not that you could, realistically. You were already here. 

The Gaunt Estate was massive. It was an imposing structure, shrouded in a perpetual darkness that seemed to kill off even the tiniest slivers of light, and you’d noted the distinctly foul scent of dark magic that encased the mansion from roughly a mile away. There were no Floo Flames to utilize for travel, so you’d been forced to apparate to Great Hangleton and walk the remaining six miles to reach your destination. This was your first time setting foot anywhere near Ominis’ childhood home, and the threat of splinching yourself by apparating to an unfamiliar location was a very legitimate concern. 

You almost wished you’d taken the gamble, if only to spare yourself the harrowing journey on foot. 

Ominis had to already be inside the manor, having left long before you decided you would follow him to essentially eavesdrop on his meeting with his family. You had never seen him so agitated in the hours leading up to his departure, and it was entirely due to the letter he’d received from his father. What it had said, you didn’t know, but you knew Ominis well enough to figure out that it wasn’t anything good. His entire demeanor had changed upon reading the apparent summons, but he wouldn’t tell you a lick of what it was about. He’d promised to return home as soon as he was able and left without so much as a goodbye kiss. 

The memory only reinforced the fact that this was a really bad idea. What the hell were you thinking? 

Now that you were actually here, you had no clue how to go about your poorly thought out plan. Going inside had always been the goal, but now that you were face to face with the blood-chilling building, you found yourself hesitating. Something told you that getting out would be a lot harder than getting in. You didn’t even know where Ominis could be, especially if the interior was as gargantuan as the exterior. Getting lost– or Merlin forbid, caught and tortured– seemed like the most plausible outcome. 

It was as the saying went; curiosity killed the cat. You seriously hoped you wouldn’t end up dead as a result of your inquisitiveness. 

Forcing one foot in front of the other, you started down the gravel path towards the arched double doors with your wand in hand. Your anxiety was like a physical entity hiding within your chest, but you smothered it beneath the overwhelming desire to ensure that Ominis was okay. While you knew he could handle himself, his family’s reputation preceded them, and you’d feared the worst earlier when you had borne witness to his expression shifting into something far more sinister than you were accustomed to. 

You cast a disillusionment charm for extra measure before giving the handle a testing twist, relieved to find that the door was unlocked. It wouldn’t surprise you if there were other safeguards in place that you were unaware of, but pressing on despite that unknown possibility was a risk you were willing to take. You opened the door a crack– just enough for you to squeeze through before quickly shutting it behind you– and you were instantly encased in suffocating darkness. 

The windows that lined the walls were evidently just for show. 

It smelled distinctly old inside, as though there had never been a time when the mansion wasn’t inhabited. The wooden columns that lined the entryway were cracked and worn, stretching all the way towards the vaulted ceilings before disappearing into the inky shadows high above. There was a striking amount of antique looking decor that lined the walls; from suits of armor, to ornate vases perched atop mahogany tables. Straight across from the front door was a giant portrait of what could only be the Gaunt family.

Ominis was nowhere to be found in it. 

The sound of distant, unintelligible voices echoed throughout the vast foyer from somewhere deeper in the house, drawing your attention and making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your eyes scanned the room once more before you were furtively moving further into the room in the direction of the noise. 

Following the sound of the voices brought you to a giant oak doorway– a mere fraction of the size of the main entrance, but still obscenely large. From within you could hear a man you didn’t recognize, his throaty timbre one that seemed to command attention, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that danced down your spine. Nothing about his tone sounded pleasant. 

“It’s been put off long enough,” you heard the man say as you sidled up directly against the door, careful not to lean on it too much and risk shoving it open. “We entertained your rebelliousness while you were at school, but Apollonia has anticipated this union for years now. It will happen. Whether you’re a willing participant, however, is up to you.”

“You already know my stance on the matter.” Ominis. “I’d sooner dig my own grave before I let you marry me off to that deplorable woman. She’s psychotic–” 

“A non-issue,” interjected the older voice. 

“Perhaps it’s irrelevant to you, but not to me,” Ominis snapped. You hardly recognized the threatening lilt in his voice; he sounded thoroughly fed up with the discussion, and you briefly wondered how long he’d been going at it with the unknown man. “She’s utterly wicked. Moreover she’s family. Have you forgotten my opposition to these incestuous relations you continue to shove down my throat?” 

At this point, you were almost positive the deeper voice belonged to Ominis’ father. You knew next to nothing about the man, other than the fact that Ominis loathed him with his entire being. Before you could delve further into your thoughts, a distinctly feminine voice filtered through the thin slit in the doorway, sounding colder than ice. 

“Aleister, give it a rest. If he wants to be dragged to the altar instead of walking down it, then so be it.” 

Ominis’ laugh was crass and devoid of any genuine humor, and you could practically hear the sneer in his rebuttal. “Bold of you to assume I’ll let myself be dragged anywhere. Try it and see what happens.” 

“I just don’t understand why you’re so opposed to this,” the woman continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “You never used to fight us to this extent– you’ve always known what was expected of you as a Gaunt. Does that girl from Hogwarts have anything to do with this?” 

Your entire body went rigid at the mention of yourself, and a tense silence descended over the room. It was suddenly so quiet that you were certain you could hear a pin drop– but in this case the lack of sound allowed you to pick up on something shifting across the floorboards closer to you. You had barely glanced over your shoulder before you were jumping away from the door with your heart hammering in your chest. 

The biggest snake you’d ever seen in your life was slithering across the floor, its iridescent scales somehow reflecting the nonexistent light within the hallway. Your eyes went wider than saucers as you stepped away as much as you could, silently backing yourself into the tiny alcove beside the doorway in a bid to remain undetected– because if there was one thing the wizarding world had taught you, it was that beasts of any kind were far more intelligent than they were given credit for. The snake’s long, forked tongue flicked out incessantly as it made its way towards the doors, but it stopped short of the entryway to pivot its massive head in your direction. 

It was looking right at you. 

Fuck.

Your body tensed in anticipation of the worst; maybe it was venomous and you’d die quickly, or maybe it was more inclined to strangle the life out of you before depositing your corpse in front of Ominis and his parents. The thought made your stomach churn, and your eyes flicked down to confirm that yes– the disillusionment charm was still working– but that didn’t seem to matter where the reptile was concerned, and you mentally chided yourself for ever having let your curiosity get the better of you. 

The conversation on the other side of the door continued as your staring contest with the snake pressed on. “That girl is none of your concern. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll refrain from speaking to me about her.” 

“Ominis,” Aleister admonished with a rough voice. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother that way. Such hostility for some witch we know nothing about– perhaps it’s time to rid you of her influence once and for all. She’s proving to be a greater distraction than I had anticipated.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the snake’s, but your blood ran cold. 

“Over my dead body. If you so much as look at her–”

“That can be arranged. No son of mine will be consorting with some harlot of unknown blood purity. You’d be better off in the grave–” 

“Aleister!” Ominis’ mother yelled, silencing the back and forth bickering instantaneously, and you found the willpower to shift your feet sideways so you could better make a break for the front door.

There was another flick of the creature’s tongue as it blatantly scented your presence, but it made no move to inch closer to you. While you were grateful to still be breathing, you were also deeply, irrevocably afraid, and you came to the resolute decision that it was time to get the hell out of there. 

You moved out of the alcove slowly while maintaining what you deemed to be a safe enough distance from the snake, and all the while its thin, slitted pupils followed your movements. The blasted thing had an awareness to it that sent shivers down your spine, overwhelming you with the urge to run and get away, but vigilance was key. It wasn’t poised to strike, but that just made you even more nervous. 

Why wasn’t it attacking you? 

You adamantly refused to turn your back on the reptile, so you kept your front to it as you skirted the edge of the wall in the direction of the entrance. The discussion between Ominis and his parents was muffled now– their voices distinctly lower after his mother had cut off their argument with her biting tone– but you no longer cared to listen in. You craved safety, and nothing about the Gaunt household offered that. 

As you came upon the final stretch of the hallway, the snake flicked out its tongue once more before it was turning around to begin slithering towards you, and the remnants of your bravery evaporated. Fear overtook you, and the disillusionment charm that had shrouded you in transparency fell away as you pivoted and bolted around the corner. A chill-inducing hiss echoed from down the corridor– the first real sound you’d heard the animal make– and it only served to propel you towards the exit even faster.

The gargantuan double-doors swam into view, and just as you were reaching out to curl your fingers around the handle, a strong arm was coiling around your waist and hauling you backwards with enough force to give you whiplash. A startled, pained yelp was expelled from your lungs as you were slammed into the wall beside the doors, and your hip connected painfully with a tiny side table that careened against the floor. The vase that had been perched atop it shattered loudly, the ceramic pieces scattering across the tile, but you barely got the chance to gauge the extent of the damage before an unfamiliar face was blocking your sight. 

“Well well well, just look at what the cat dragged in. Get lost on your way home, doll?”  

It took a second for the statement to register, but once it had, you were craning your head back to glare boldly at the arrogant sounding man. His tawny eyes were narrowed down at you in amusement, his thick forearm pinned horizontally across your chest to restrain you firmly in place between himself and the wall, and the predatory look in his gaze had your stomach sinking into your feet. Everything about him screamed dangerous; from the unruly hair that curled around his temples to the animalistic way he bared his teeth at you– there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the man would kill you if he deemed it acceptable. You cursed yourself silently for having put yourself in such a predicament in the first place. 

The imposing man cocked his head to the side coyly as he teased, “I hardly think I deserve such a cruel expression when you’re the one sleuthing around my house uninvited.”

Your mouth opened and shut a few times before you managed to stammer out, “I-I wasn’t–” 

“Don’t deny it,” he cut you off quickly. “What other reason would Ominis’ little plaything have for being here? I sincerely doubt the house-elves held the door open for you.” 

The term ‘plaything’ made you scowl, distracting you from the fact that the man even knew who you were, and you brazenly planted your hands against his firm chest to shove him away. It was like pushing against an immovable boulder. “I’m not his plaything, you prat–”

His free hand shot up in a flash to grip the sides of your jaw painfully, the look on his face darkening tenfold as he growled, “Careful now, I’d hate to lose my temper and take away my brother’s pet.” The fingers splayed under your face tightened a fraction as the crazed man angled your head to the side, shamelessly pressing his nose against the sensitive skin of your throat before he inhaled deeply. You shuddered uncomfortably at the contact. “Although I’m beginning to understand his infatuation a bit. You smell… different. What is that, exactly?” 

You had no fucking clue what he was referring to, nor did you care to find out. Each passing second brought the towering man closer into your personal space, and when one of his legs started to weasel its way in-between yours, you found yourself attempting to writhe out of his ironclad grip. “Let go of me,” you demanded in a low voice, doing your best to keep your words steady and hide the rampant unease in your tone. 

“Answer my question,” he countered easily. “Or I’ll snap your scrawny neck and be done with it. Makes no difference to me whether you live or die–” 

“If you have any desire to keep those slimy hands of yours, you’ll remove them this instant, Marvolo.” 

Your eyes widened at the sound of Ominis’ booming voice echoing throughout the foyer, which had the elder Gaunt smiling wickedly at you. He didn’t bother turning around, opting to stay right where he was and drop his fingers lower so he could squeeze around your windpipe, and you knew your choked gasp reached Ominis’ ears when he swore viciously and began walking closer. 

“Did I stutter? I said to unhand her, you cretin.”

Marvolo tutted disapprovingly, angling his head to the side so he could better keep track of Ominis coming up behind him, but he kept his eyes glued to yours all the while. “Come now, Ominis. You know how I feel about rats, and she was certainly scurrying around like one.”

You finally caught sight of the blond over Marvolo’s shoulder, and the look on his face was downright murderous. His dark, expressive brows were slammed down atop his milky-blue irises, and his pursed lips contorted into a scowl as he leveled his wand with the back of the taller man’s head. Ominis continued to side-step closer, moving with the prowess of a wolf stalking its prey, and to your immense satisfaction Marvolo broke eye contact with you to fix his gaze on his brother. 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he looked wary. 

“Last chance,” Ominis grit out through his clenched teeth. “Let her go. Or you’ll be nothing more than a stain on the floor.” 

The sharp laugh Marvolo let slip past his lips was positively wicked, and Ominis’ threat only served to motivate his brother into tightening his hand around your throat. Stars danced in the corners of your eyes then, and your own hand shot up to grip at the man’s thick wrist in an attempt to pry his fingers away from your windpipe. Panic flooded your brain, your racing heart drowning out the sound of Ominis’ angry voice as your pulse thundered in your ears. Fight or flight was probably an appropriate way to describe what you were feeling, but Marvolo was making both options impossible to act on. 

He wasn’t listening to Ominis. He probably never would. You would have to get yourself out of this mess on your own. 

Marvolo was barking out insults and threats over his shoulder, taunting Ominis into hurting him as he called his younger brother’s bluff. You were able to school your nerves long enough to focus and dig deep inside of yourself in search of the magic you so rarely touched. Isidora’s abilities were as much of an unknown now as they had been when you’d first absorbed them, but it was comparable to a living entity within you, and the phantom presence of her magic roared to life as you called upon it. 

You felt the strange, darker magic crackle over your skin, and Marvolo’s head whipped back around to stare at you with his pupils blown wide. Whatever he saw reflected in your eyes was enough to spark alarm in his heart, and a sick, twisted part of you relished in the apprehension that washed over his features. 

“What the fuck is that?” His hand around your throat loosened a fraction, but you weren’t about to let him walk away from this unscathed. The arm that had been hanging limp at your side stretched out until your palm was directly against his chest, and you couldn’t help but grimace when the red bolts of magic skirted across your forearm and blasted straight into his sternum. 

Marvolo went flying with a barely there grunt– his arms and legs flailing as he tried to find purchase– to no avail. He hit the stone floor and slid an additional ten feet or so until he came to rest just beside the corridor you’d run out of earlier, and your blood ran cold when an older, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped out from within the hallway. The look on his face was enough to spur you into action then, and you spared a quick, panicked glance at Ominis before you peeled off of the wall and threw the front door open. 

The cool night air was like a slap to your face, sobering you up instantaneously and driving you to pump your legs harder— faster— as you sprinted down the path that led to the dark forest surrounding the property. There was a bang from somewhere behind you and an animalistic sound you could only describe as a snarl, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when it could potentially cost you dearly. 

“Marvolo!” Ominis shouted, his voice angry and distant, but as the footsteps slapping against the gravel behind you got closer and closer, you realized it had to be him giving chase. Your heart hammered in your chest and in your ears– drowning out the sound of the encroaching danger hot on your heels– but you knew there would be no outrunning Marvolo. That crazed look in his eyes you’d seen earlier told you everything you needed to know; he would pursue you to the end of the damn country on foot if need be, and you had no intention of getting caught to find out what he had planned for you. 

Another growl sounded from over your shoulder, causing you to will your brain out of flight-mode and force your magic into action. It surged in your blood, coursing through your veins as you thought of home– of safety. 

One second you were running, and in the next you had apparated. Marvolo’s hand came down on empty air, his heels digging into the ground as he skidded to a stop and realized what had happened. You were already long gone, but his rage-filled roar shook the foundation of the manor, somehow echoing in your ears as you collapsed to your knees in the center of your living room. 

***

Your eyes stung as the steam from the bath wafted up into your face, your gaze never straying from the surface of the water. It had been nearly two hours since your narrow escape from Ominis’ childhood home and you had been in the tub for the majority of it– calming your frayed nerves and racing heart with deep breaths that did little to quell the anxiety that still riddled you. The hot water had been charmed back to scalding temperatures twice now, having gone cold multiple times already as you sat with your knees curled against your chest and replayed every second of your fortuitous run-in with Marvolo Gaunt. 

The ache in your hip throbbed to life every time you thought back to the primal glint that had flashed in Marvolo’s eyes as he’d thrown you into that table. What had started as a tender red spot on your side had transformed into a nasty, colossal bruise, stark and obvious against your bare skin. You hadn’t been able to so much as glance at the finger shaped bruises that wrapped around your neck without feeling nauseous. 

You’d made a mistake in following Ominis– that much was certain. 

The man in question had yet to return home, and as a result, the seemingly bottomless pit of unease in your chest only worsened. Part of you was ashamed for having left him alone to face his family’s scrutiny after literally breaking and entering, but you knew he wouldn’t have had it any other way. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would have found a way to get you out as quickly as possible if you hadn’t done so yourself. 

Still, you worried. 

Another fifteen minutes passed without a sound from within the house, and you dimly registered that the water had gone cold once more. You were half tempted to heat it up again and spend the remainder of the night turning yourself into a human-sized prune, but the ache in your back from staying curled up for so long diminished the idea quickly. Swiftly, you hoisted yourself out of the water, using the rim of the tub to steady yourself as you stood and began drying yourself off. Rivulets of water still cascaded down your body as you draped your robe over your shoulders, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Fatigue overtook you as you combed through your hair with your fingers and padded into your bedroom, and the second you laid down atop the sheets, your eyes were drifting shut. 

You had no idea how long you slept before the distinct feeling of the mattress dipping roused you from your light slumber. The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the pulsing, red glow that emanated from Ominis’ wand as he hovered it over you, and you slowly started to blink the fog from your eyes. 

You had no clue how he realized you were awake, but his voice was unmistakably tight as he asked you, “Where are you hurt?” 

It took your brain a second to fully register the question, and you propped yourself up on your elbow as your eyes adjusted to the dim light and muttered, “What?” 

“You screamed,” he gritted through clenched teeth, and despite the low visibility in the room, you watched as his grip on his wand turned white knuckled. “I heard you earlier. You were in pain– I know it’s the truth– so tell me now, where are you hurt?” 

On cue, the bruise on your hip throbbed to life, and you swiftly placed your hand on top of it while silently cursing yourself for not having brewed any Wiggenweld potions after returning home. Evidently your mind had been too jumbled to do the most logical thing following the altercation. “It’s not that bad–” you started to say, but Ominis cut you off before you could downplay the injury any further. 

“Please,” he implored you, silencing you instantly with his pleading tone. “I’m trying to leave this up to you, but don’t think for a second I won’t figure it out for myself if you don’t tell me.”

Something about the desperate look on his face made you pause, and you took a moment to really take in the sight of him. He was pale– far paler than normal– and the way his brows furrowed told you that he was more anxious than you realized. His posture was still impeccable but less poised– closer to rigid. His shoulders barely moved, giving the illusion that he was hardly breathing, and you honestly weren’t sure he was at this point. 

In short, Ominis looked petrified. 

Your lips formed a hard line as your gaze traversed his stiff form, swallowing thickly before you slid your hand away from your hip to reveal the dark purple blotch that decorated your side. “My hip,” you murmured, afraid that if you spoke the truth too loudly, the tentative composure Ominis was keeping would vanish. 

The muscle in his jaw ticked, and the hand he didn’t have wrapped around the handle of his wand came to skim along your waist before hovering ever so slightly above the bruise. “Where else?” 

“This is the worst of the damage–”

“Where else?” His voice was deeper and rougher than you were accustomed to hearing, and the notable difference had your stomach flipping over on itself. It left you feeling queasy, and you honestly couldn’t tell if he was mad at you or at the situation as a whole. 

“…My neck,” you relented quietly, all too aware of the blatant anger that overtook Ominis’ face. “At least I returned the favor,” you added quickly with a half-smile, trying to lessen the severity of the claim. It was a failed attempt, however, seeing as the man averted his unseeing gaze to the floor and shook his head minutely. Dimly, you watched as he waved his wand over his free hand, and a small vial of Wiggenweld appeared in the center of his palm before he wordlessly handed it to you. Given his tense demeanor, you opted not to say anything as you took it and removed the cork, then drank down the earthy contents graciously. The relief was instantaneous, and through the darkness of the room you managed to catch sight of the bruise on your hip fading away entirely. 

Your tiny sigh of relief reached Ominis’ ears, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate– albeit barely. “You should never have gone there. Why would you set foot anywhere near that damnable house? Do you have any idea the kind of danger you put yourself in– the kind of danger that you’re still in?”

At that, you finally pushed yourself up so you were sitting with your back against the pillows, setting aside the empty vial so you could clasp Ominis’ free hand in yours. His skin was cool to the touch, and you noted the miniscule tremors that emanated from him as you squeezed the appendage to will his attention back to you. “I’m sorry, Ominis. I was worried about you– you were so upset before you left earlier and I was scared that your family would do something to you.” 

“Of course they want to do something to me. They’ve tried puppeting me into a version of myself they can tolerate for my entire life, but it’s for that very reason that I can handle them. I’ve told you what they’re like– how relentless they are– and still you went there.” His head finally snapped back in your direction, and the expression on his face was one you were certain you would never forget; it was a mask of desperation, fear, and most notably, rage. “You have no idea what you’ve done– what it means now that they’ve seen you and what you can do.”

You’d hadn’t really done much of anything, aside from blasting Marvolo across the foyer before running for your life. Still, his words kindled a spark of fear in your chest, and your hold on his hand turned loose and clammy. “What are you talking about?” 

“Before tonight, you were just an unknown witch I’d been… ‘cavorting’ with, in my father’s eyes. Easy to get rid of should the need arise. Until earlier, they didn’t believe you to be exceptionally powerful or particularly useful.”

The sudden dryness in your throat became painfully obvious. “Useful how?” 

“The Gaunt’s value power and authority over everything. Both things guarantee them the influence they need to further their own ends, and as unknown as your abilities are to them, they are undeniable. They’d be fools to ignore such a potent form of magic, and as much as I detest my family and their convoluted values, I’ll be the first to admit that they aren’t stupid. They will find a way to make that power their own– blood purity be damned– and stealing you away and marrying you off to my brother would be their most likely course of action.”

Ominis practically spat the word, his teeth bared and eyes narrowed as murderous thoughts of his brother flew through his mind. Your own head was reeling at the revelation, nausea crashing over you as you thought back to Marvolo and the sadistic way he’d smiled as he tried choking the life out of you. Someone like that wouldn’t– no, couldn’t have a caring bone in their body. But you also knew that someone of his caliber was bound to be determined to get what he wanted, and if Ominis believed that his family now sought to obtain you for their own ends, Marvolo would do everything in his power to make it happen. 

You had really, really fucked up. 

Somewhere in-between thinking of Ominis’ brother and the sickening idea of being kidnapped, your breathing had kicked up dramatically. You didn’t notice, but the blond man beside you certainly did. Ominis turned fully so his torso was angled towards you, feeling around the bed for your other hand before clasping your trembling limbs in his cooler ones, and your wide eyes flicked back up to meet his. “I won’t let them have you. Do you hear me? If they so much as glance at you, I’ll leave them wishing they had never set their sights on you.”

“You can’t know that,” you whispered, and your voice was unrecognizable to you. It was small and shaky, timid and so very, very afraid. “Marvolo is– he’s a beast. He’ll kill you in a heartbeat, Ominis. You’ll die and it will be all my fault. I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault–” 

In a flash, Ominis silenced you with a kiss. It took you by surprise, but it was far from an unwelcome one– especially when his wand bearing hand slid to the back of your neck to pull you impossibly closer towards him. You were pleased to discover that the skin there no longer throbbed with discomfort, the Wiggenweld potion he’d given you having done its job for all the bruises, not just the one on your hip. The revelation calmed you further, and before you knew it you were melting against the taller man, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt to cling to him desperately.

Ominis broke away momentarily to murmur against your parted lips, “No one will ever take you from me, you’re mine.” 

Despite the circumstances that led the two of you to this moment, you found yourself enraptured by the possessive declaration, and you couldn’t help but lean closer into the blond’s personal space until your hands were sandwiched between his chest and your breasts. Your mouth found his again, and you fervently bit at his bottom lip as you breathily whispered, “I’m yours, Ominis. Only yours.” 

Instantly, Ominis was pushing you back towards the headboard until your head knocked against the wooden frame, not once breaking the kiss as he positioned himself on top of you. His long legs came to cage your own against the mattress as he threw his wand to the edge of the bed, freeing both of his hands so he could plant them on either side of your face. Pulling away seemed physically difficult for him but he didn’t stray far, opting to rest his forehead against yours and fix his hazy eyes directly on yours. How he knew where to aim his heady stare, you didn’t know, but your toes curled at the ardent need for you that reflected in his blue irises. 

“Say it again,” he implored you with a voice like pure sin. 

“I’m yours,” you obliged him without missing a beat, and a sigh slipped past your lips as Ominis lowered his face to pepper featherlight kisses along your jaw and down the now unmarred column of your neck. Goosebumps broke out virtually all over your body when you felt one of his cool hands fall to the neckline of your robe, and as Ominis slowly tugged the material apart to expose your bare chest, he sank his teeth into the tender spot above your clavicle. The pain laced pleasure left you moaning his name in earnest, your voice steadily growing louder as his thumb came to graze over one of your nipples. 

You felt the pressure from his teeth lessen as you arched into his touch, followed by his kiss-swollen lips latching over the bite to suck lightly. “Again,” he breathed, continuing to work his searing brand into your flesh. 

There were too many ways to describe his actions; primal, dominant, and greedy, to name a few. Yet there was a softness to his words that left your heart aching within your chest– a tenderness that spoke volumes of the fear he’d felt upon realizing you had entered into that nest of vipers. He had nearly lost you tonight, and when the hand against your breast shifted down to curl around your waist, you realized he would never allow for it to happen again. 

“I’m here, Ominis, I’m right here,” you moaned, your reedy voice bouncing off the walls of the bedroom and causing the man above you to shudder. “I’m here and I’m yours.” 

Before long, Ominis was moving back into your line of sight to capture your lips in another searing kiss. The hand on your waist traversed the bare expanse of your lower stomach before reaching your aching center, and you mindlessly wound your arms around his neck to tug him closer, bucking your hips into his hand as he slid a slender finger through your folds. 

“Mine,” he growled against your parted lips, and your next breath caught in your throat as he tentatively pushed the digit inside your wet heat. Your contented sigh filtered through Ominis’ hypersensitive ears as he pressed his finger in all the way to the knuckle, and the arm he supported himself with trembled minutely as he fought to control his baser urges. 

After everything that had transpired tonight, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep in your cunt, desperate to feel you clamp down around his cock and suck him in further and further as he claimed you. He longed to mark you, brand you, consume you, in every possible way– his family’s wishes be damned. He would make you his and his alone. Should any of his kin so much as attempt to interject, he vowed he would defend you until his last breath– and then not even death would stop him. Ominis knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would defy the laws of nature if it meant keeping you safe from harm. 

As you continued to rock your hips in time with Ominis’ hand, your legs spread apart of their own accord, silently beckoning him closer as you shivered under his dutiful ministrations. Ominis felt the movement and groaned in blatant appreciation, taking advantage of the newfound space to siddle down the bed and kneel comfortably between your legs, and all the while his finger continued to pump in and out of your wet heat languidly. He bestowed another toe-curling kiss upon your lips before breaking away to slide fully down the mattress, your heart stuttering in your chest as he moved low enough to settle between your quivering thighs. It was impossible to overlook the animalistic expression on Ominis’ face as he gazed in your direction– following the sound of your barely there whimpers– and your blood ignited in your veins at the sight. 

All too eager, Ominis wasted little time in securing his grip around your waist with his free arm to better pull you harder onto his finger. The keening sound that slipped from your throat was replaced almost instantly by a guttural moan, drawn forth by the feeling of your lover’s lips latching around your clit to suck enthusiastically, and your head thunked against the headboard as wave after wave of sheer pleasure cascaded through you. 

Your thighs absentmindedly clenched on either side of Ominis’ head as he shamelessly pulled your bundle of nerves into his mouth, the action accompanied by wet, perverted sounds that had damn near all the blood in your body rushing to your cheeks. “Merlin, Ominis– fuck–” 

Beyond a throaty growl, he said nothing. He simply tightened his hold on your waist, his other hand angling itself so he could better curl the finger inside of you, the combined sensations making your head positively spin. Entirely at his mercy, your hands flew to his soft, blond hair as you effectively surrendered to the pure bliss he granted you. 

If you had been hot and wet already, Ominis’ mouth felt a thousand times more so as he torturously dragged his tongue up your cunt. He removed his finger from your clenching walls and replaced it with the wet muscle, wriggling it as much as he could as though he were desperate to lap up everything that escaped out of you. Your breathing hitched and your hips involuntarily bucked when his ministrations traveled higher towards your clit, and when he finally reached it, the tip of his tongue was slow and methodical as he pressed firm, torturous circles around the throbbing bundle.

Ordinarily, having Ominis appreciatively go down on you would have been the highlight of the night, but given his domineering persona at present, you knew you were just plain fucked now. 

“Ominis, please,” you managed to croak out. “I’m not going to last, I– ah!” You practically yelped when the tips of the man’s teeth raked along your inner thigh, nipping at the soft skin there hard enough for you to jolt. 

“Just relax and let me work,” he muttered coolly, pressing a featherlight kiss to the spot he’d bitten as he dragged his hands down your abdomen to squeeze your tensing thighs. 

Despite your best efforts, you were quickly losing your grip on anything other than the sensations Ominis was lavishing you with. You felt lightheaded as you attempted to release your tense muscles, struggling to do so as your lover devoured you with reckless abandon. His nose brushed against your clit as he slipped his tongue inside of you once more, the sound of his wet, suckling noises intermingling with your breathy whines as you felt your climax building higher and higher in your gut. You couldn’t tell if your arousal was stemming from how Ominis enthusiastically used his tongue, lips, and teeth on you or if it came from the demanding way he directed you, but you decided that you didn’t care; every feeling had burrowed deep inside of you and taken root in your mind. 

You wanted more– no, needed more. 

Head whacking back against the wooden bed frame, you needily tugged at the strands of his hair wrapped around your fingers as you pleaded, “Please, Ominis, I need you…” 

Those five words did more to stroke his ego than you would ever know. Right now, Ominis needed you to need him. He wanted you to succumb to his ministrations and bend to his will, all to parry the baseless demands of his deranged family. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would ever willingly hand you over to them– much less to Marvolo– and through your rapture-filled begging, he knew he had succeeded. 

You were wholly and unequivocally his. 

He pulled away for a moment to run his hands up your thighs, over your hips, then along the pebbled peaks of your breasts. The way you trembled at his touch told him everything he needed to know; you were hanging on by a thread, and he didn’t need to see you in order to know you looked absolutely wrecked. 

Unable to endure a second more of the teasing, Ominis raised himself up on his knees to remove his clothing. Swiftly and efficiently, he dexterously undid the catch of his trousers before shoving the constricting attire down his narrow hips. There was no stopping the sigh of relief that spilled through his clenched teeth as his cock finally sprung free– long, heavy, and leaking from the red, swollen tip. With his shirt disheveled, hair mussed, and pants haphazardly hanging below his hip bones, he was truly the picture of temptation. You stared up at him through hooded eyes as he stroked himself a few times, taking in the sight of your lover towering over you as you lay prone atop the sheets beneath him. 

Once again, Ominis’ uncanny ability to feel your eyes on him surprised you, and a cheshire-like smirk blossomed across his face as he asked, “Enjoying the view?” 

“More than you are, I’d wager,” you retorted, and Ominis scoffed as his smug expression turned into one of amused disbelief. That mouth of yours was bound to land you in trouble one of these days. 

“Smartass,” he murmured affectionately, keeping one hand on his shaft as the other reached down in search of your waist, squeezing the flesh there with a bruising strength that only served to intensify the ache between your legs. You aided him by wriggling down the sheets in order to press your ass against his bent knees, and Ominis lowered himself once more so the heavy weight of his cock rested against your spit-slick folds. It was hard for you to believe that the wild haired, smokey-eyed man kneeling between your legs was the same boy who had shyly walked with you to your classes all those years ago. Both of his hands pressed against your hips this time as he sat back on his heels, white teeth flashing as he aligned the head of his manhood against your entrance. 

“Are you ready for me, darling?” Ominis asked, as though you hadn’t been begging for this very outcome minutes before. 

“Yes,” you breathed out shakily, your hands twisting in the fabric of your long-abandoned bathrobe beneath you. “I’m–”

Despite his privileged upbringing, Ominis was a fan of the simple things in life. Good food, long walks during the warmer seasons, and the sound of your voice catching when he took you by surprise and slid inside you abruptly. In one fluid motion, he breached your walls, listening intently to your sharp intake of breath as he inched himself forward until his knees were under your rear and he’d bottomed out completely. The small whimper that slipped from your mouth had a deep, throaty chuckle escaping his, and his thumbs took to tracing encouraging circles against your hips as you clenched around him. 

“I’m sure you are,” he purred in an infuriatingly sexy tone while you struggled to regain control over your breathing. Instantly, the dim embers of lust within you were rekindled, every inch of your body warm and borderline electric. Your hips writhed in Ominis’ hold in an attempt to wriggle closer, the unyielding grip he had on you coupled with the hungry expression on his face almost enough to make you come undone then and there. 

“Fuck, Ominis–” your words were cut short by a stifled moan as the blond slowly withdrew himself, arching back until only the tip of his cock was inside you before slamming his hips forward in one quick, sharp thrust. Your hands flew to his clothed knees as you dug your nails into the rumpled material of his trousers, desperate to touch every inch of him that you could but struggling to catch your breath in the midst of his slow, methodical thrusts. 

Well, methodical at first. 

You could feel Ominis’ acute desire for you with every pump of his hips, and a groan snaked its way out of his chest as he freed one of his hands to reach down and thumb over your clit. You hissed triumphantly through your teeth as you saw his expression slowly shift into something needier, his thrusts becoming less precise and more visceral. With how tight he was gripping you, you were positive the healed bruise from earlier would be replaced by long, finger shaped stripes, but you didn’t care. If it was Ominis, it was fine. If it was him claiming you, branding you, consuming you, it was more than fine. 

The blue-eyed incubus above you seemed to think similarly, if the low rumble in his chest was anything to go by. He was absolutely lost in the euphoria that came with being encased in your pulsing, tight heat, causing him to abandon his pretenses of control and give into his want for you with gusto. The hand he had on your sensitive bundle of nerves returned to grasp your waist, and even elevated as he was, he still had to thrust down into you– shaking the headboard with every plunge as he effectively fucked you into the mattress. 

The distinction was clear and evident in your mind as your legs came to wind around Ominis’ waist; the two of you had obviously been intimate before, and you had definitely made love before, but you had never been so carnally fucked like this a day in your life. It was hard to recall if Ominis had ever ravished you with such need in every stroke, enough so that you found yourself unable to control your shaking breaths or the volume of your voice. It was enrapturing– getting caught up in the way he staked his claim on you– so intent on fucking himself harder and deeper into you that his own husky murmurs of your name fell from his lips like a mantra. 

Your inability to fight your moans and curses and feverish pleas for more was what Ominis lived for. The blond craved the sound of your voice like a drug, and he drew unparalleled strength from your vocal satisfaction. Maybe it had more to do with the events of the night than anything else, but hearing you cry his name and feeling you claw at the tops of his thighs made his chest swell with possessive affection, thrilled to hear you unwittingly proclaim that you were in fact his. No one else would ever have you– no one else would ever find themselves lucky enough to have you reduced to such a state beneath them other than him. 

“M-More,” you practically sobbed the request as Ominis gripped your hips tighter, dimly registering the thundering crack of the headboard banging against the wall. “More– please– I’m s-so close–”

You asked for it with each breath expelled from your lungs, and Ominis would graciously give it to you. He couldn’t have refused you any longer if he wanted to. “You want to come, darling?” He panted, receiving only whimpering nods in return. “Ask.” 

“P-Please, please let me come, I can’t–” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as your teeth clenched together hard enough to make your jaw pop. You teetered on the brink of oblivion, waiting only on Ominis’ say-so to fall over the edge which seemed to loom so, so close. 

“Beg,” Ominis rasped thickly, his fingers tightening and digging into the skin of your hips as he bucked harder against your ass. “Beg for it– beg for me to let you come.” 

You couldn’t even find the brainpower to realize he was demanding to hear you say it to fuel his unrepentant hold on you. The taunting, the pleasure laced brutality– it was all to assuage the bitter anger that had coursed through his veins upon hearing his family refer to you as tradeable cattle. Later on, he would be collected enough to reassure you that you were your own person, free to make your own decisions and go wherever your heart desired. 

Right now though, his baser urges had won out, and he needed to hear you say it. 

Your head slammed into the pillows as your back arched off the mattress, doing your best to shut out the mounting pleasure that threatened to break through your crumbling resolve. “Please, Ominis! Please let me–” you hiccuped around another gasp, the ache in your gut bordering on unbearable. “L-Let me… let me…”

One of his hands released your waist to feel up your torso and curl around the back of your neck, lifting your head off of the pillow so your eyes were on him as he uttered five words that struck something deep inside of you. 

“Then come for me, love.” 

Your breaking point smacked into you hard and fast, leaving you equally breathless and brainless as your mouth fell open around a long, drawn out cry of Ominis’ name. Your climax ripped through you ferociously, your vision flashing white and your muscles tensing for a moment of near perfect silence as your lover continued to thrust in and out of you with unwavering focus. Even after you’d collapsed back against the sheets and gone limp in his arms, Ominis continued to chase his own finish, balancing precariously over you on his elbows and burying his face in the crook of your neck to muffle the shaky groans he failed to bite back. 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he continued to murmur quiet declarations against your skin that sounded a lot like, “Mine.” 

Before long, Ominis was following you over the edge with a throaty purr that slithered out of his throat. His arms trembled on either side of your head, his hands gathering fistfuls of the pillows as he buried himself completely inside of you with one final plunge of his hips. You heard the blond moan hoarsely in your ear as he spilled into you, grinding against your ass to milk every last drop of his seed from his twitching member, and when he mouthed wetly against the sweat-slick column of throat before biting down, all you could focus on was the warmth that filled you as you quivered under him. 

After a few moments of the two of you panting softly, you lifted your hands to Ominis’ clothed back in a bid to usher him to the side. He tensed, however, and you paused as he wedged one of his arms under your back to hold you flush to him as he continued to re-center himself. “Not yet,” you heard him grumble into the hollow of your throat. “Not yet… give me a second.” 

“…Alright,” you relented quickly, only mildly concerned as you wrapped your arms around his slender shoulders. With your fingers tracing lazy shapes against his clothed back, you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling of Ominis’ weight pressing down on you, his gentle exhales fanning against your clammy skin, and the steady rhythm of his heart beating against your sternum. 

Given the severity of what had happened at his family’s house, you weren’t sure the two of you would ever get another moment like this again. So, you held on tightly to him in the hopes that the night would last just a little bit longer. 

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours but realistically could only have been a few minutes, and shortly after Ominis began peppering kisses up your throat and along your jaw, your eyes drifted shut as you dozed off once more. When you woke the following morning and found yourself tucked in beneath the sheets, you propped yourself up on your elbow to glance around the otherwise empty room, noting immediately that Ominis was nowhere to be found. 

In a panicked flurry of movement, you threw off the blankets and were still tying your robe around your waist as you hurriedly shuffled down the hallway. Your dread was smothered in the next instant by overwhelming ease as you rounded the corner to find Ominis in the kitchen, gripping the countertop and working a muscle in his jaw while he hovered his wand over a letter that looked eerily similar to the one he’d received just a day ago. 

Even though he could hear you approaching, he said nothing as you padded across the room to stand behind him, coiling your arms around his waist to press your front against his back. A shaky sigh escaped him, and you stared at the wall as you contemplated your words before deciding on, “What are you reading?” 

A pause, “A formal summons for you, inviting you to meet my family officially.” 

Your heart fell into your stomach, arms tightening around the taller man a fraction as you pursed your lips in blatant distaste. “We won’t go,” you announced, and Ominis shifted in your embrace so he could wrap his arms around you to hug you back with a firmness that spoke volumes of his agreement. 

“We won’t,” he said. “But we can’t stay here, either. Not anymore.” 

“I know.” 

He buried his chin in the mess of hair atop your head, shamelessly inhaling your scent before he told you, “We have to leave– go somewhere far away– and we can’t tell anyone.” 

“I know.” 

The way his nimble fingers gripped the back of your robe told you of just how conflicted he was to ask this of you– to uproot your shared lives here to flee the meddling of his family. His voice was laced with remorse as he asked, “And you’re okay with that? Truly?”

“I am,” and you really were. There wasn’t a lick of hesitation in your voice– not a shred of apprehension hidden in your tone at the prospect of packing up and running as far from here as humanly possible. “So long as we’re together, I am.” 

Ominis skimmed his hands up your back to cup your cheeks, angling your head up at him so he could kiss you fully, and you returned the gesture with equal fervor. As long as he was with you, you knew you could do anything. With Ominis by your side, you would fight tooth and nail against every hellish creature or person in existence to ensure your future together. 

Wherever the two of you ended up, you already knew that your home wouldn’t just be some place. It would always be him.

[limonnitsa]

🎵 Gabriella Aplin - What Did You Do?

this one is Seb's pov about Ida definitely

[savingsallow]

— just val blessing your feed✨

[plumbob-pudding]

[fart-stuff-by-goose]

getting a little too into that one-time posh lady disguise

[kylominis]

they lost to a game against MC and this is their punishment [♡]

[sonny201818]

History Of Magic 😴 💤

[arkhammaid]

you already know i have some devious things planned for my oscar time travel fic

[gilded-garnet]

He Doesn't Even Know You

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

WC: ~ 2K / Warnings: None

Summary: MC had a boyfriend, and Sebastian was miserable. What made it worse was the fact that he had unwittingly made it happen in the first place.

It had started when his fellow Slytherin, a seventh year boy by the name of Avery, had benignly asked him if he knew what MC's favourite flower was. Avery had claimed he simply wanted to give a gift to the 'Hero of Hogwarts' as a thank you for saving the school during their previous year.

In hindsight, Sebastian couldn't quite believe how naive he'd been, not thinking to question this rather flimsy motive. He had answered truthfully, not thinking of the possible consequences.

Unfortunately, his advice had rapidly led to the development of an actual relationship between the two. A relationship in which Sebastian now found himself an unwilling participant.

Avery had started coming to him for everything, wanting to extract any piece of information he could in order to dazzle MC. With each passing request, Sebastian became increasingly tempted to tell the guy to get lost and learn how to impress a girl on his own. However, just one glance at MC's delighted face whenever she received a box of her favourite chocolates or an item of jewellery with her favourite gemstone, meant that Sebastian couldn't find it in himself to stop helping the useless dolt.

Just half a year more and he'll be gone, he told himself. He could cope for that long, couldn't he, for her sake? It turned out he vastly overestimated his own level of tolerance.

"Oh, it was amazing, Sebastian!" She gushed to him between classes. "Just the other day, he took me to this spot overlooking the hills and river. It was simply divine."

She sighed dreamily in a way that made Sebastian's insides curl. He already knew it was amazing. After all, he was the one who had found the spot in the first place and suggested it to the fool. As if that insufferable moon mind could think up anything like that on his own.

He didn't trust himself to speak with an acceptable level of enthusiasm, so simply grit his teeth and nodded. She picked up on his foul mood immediately, reaching out to grab his arm and stop him in his tracks, a small frown on her face.

"Look, Sebastian, I know you don't particularly like him, but would it kill you to at least pretend to be happy for me?" She asked.

Oh, if only she knew what he was doing to make sure she was happy, he thought bitterly.

"I'm not sure it matters what I think of him; I'm not the one dating him," he replied, trying to keep his voice level and tone dismissive.

Her frown deepened. "You're my best friend. Of course your opinion matters to me," she insisted.

The rational part of his mind knew he should leave the conversation there, but Sebastian had always had a flair for confrontation.

"Fine. I'll tell you what I think," he stated, crossing his arms in frustration. "I dont think he's right for you."

"Why?" She asked, still calm for now.

"Because he doesn't know a damn thing about you, MC!" He snapped, unable to hold it in any longer.

Her eyebrows rose in confusion, "That's ridiculous, he knows lots about me."

Sebastian couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Like your favourite chocolates, lessons, and flower? You think he just guessed all that information? Come on MC, you're smarter than that," he scoffed.

"He just listens to me," she insisted, cheeks turning pink in indignation.

"He doesn't," he replied, flatly.

"And how would you know?" She demanded, incensed.

"Because he's been coming to me since the start for advice on how to woo you. Hell, he only took you to that spot the other day because I suggested it to him!" Sebastian fumed.

Despite his anger, he found immense relief in the admittance, like the ball and chain that had been dragging at his heels for months had finally fallen away, leaving him feeling lighter. That is, until he saw MC's bottom lip quivering, which quickly brought him crashing back down to earth.

"You can be really cruel sometimes, Sebastian," she said, her voice shaking with emotion.

He blinked dumbly, taken by surprise. "What?"

"Just because you're jealous, doesn't mean you can make up stuff like that," she snapped, her eyes brimming with tears. She turned on her heel and sped away, books clutched tightly to her chest.

He was gobsmacked. First, at her thinking he was lying about the whole thing, and second, that she thought he was lying because he was jealous.

He suddenly had the overriding urge to set something on fire, so decided to skip Ancient Runes altogether in favour of venting his rage at a training dummy in the Undercroft, all the while picturing it wearing Avery's face.

----

That evening, Avery cornered him in the Slytherin common room as he made his way to bed. He'd ended up 'practicing' in the Undercroft for hours, and now felt completely drained of energy.

"Sebastian, just the man I wanted to see. MC's in a right foul mood; you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you? Anything I can do to help calm her down?" Avery asked, concerned.

"She's your girlfriend - figure it out," Sebastian snarled, thinking that Avery was very lucky he could barely raise his wand arm. He barged him roughly aside with his shoulder so he could walk up the stairs to his dorm, ignoring Avery's spluttered protest.

Ominis was already there, sitting on his bed with his legs crossed at the ankle, a book on his lap. "Our mutual friend isn't too happy with you," he stated.

Sebastian only grunted in response, kicking off his boots and falling face-first into the pillow on his own bed, wrapping his arms around it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ominis probed, his voice teasing.

"No."

"Ok."

The silence lasted all of one minute before Sebastian huffed loudly, turning onto his side to face his friend.

"I told MC the truth about Avery. She accused me of making up the fact that I am the sole reason that she and him are together. Then, she said that I was jealous and that's the reason I made it up!" Sebastian disclosed, exasperated.

"And are you?" Ominis asked.

"Am I what?"

"Jealous."

Sebastian scoffed. "I'm not jealous, Ominis. It's more like I'm sick to death of him taking all the credit for my ideas." Sebastian groused, frowning.

"Alright," Ominis said a little too lightly.

"What does that mean?" Sebastian demanded.

"I just said 'alright'," Ominis remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but it was the way you said it."

Ominis huffed in frustration. "Sebastian, I am not going to tell you how you do or do not feel. What I will tell you is that I can understand why she might be upset with you when you basically told her that her entire relationship is a lie."

Sebastian groaned. "I didn't mean for it to go on for this long. I've been meaning to tell Avery to piss off for ages, but she just looked so happy and I couldn't..." he trailed off miserably.

"Give her time, she'll come around eventually. She always seems to when it comes to you," Ominis assured.

"She isn't the only one," Sebastian teased, chuckling when Ominis shot him an irritated look. Goading his oldest friend was one of Sebastian's favourite pastimes.

"Oh please. If anything, you're the one who always ends up crawling back to me. Now, shut up and go to bed, I've had enough of your moping for one day."

---

It had been a whole month and she still hadn't spoken to him. More tragically, she and that useless waste of space were still together, even without his input. The thought left him feeling rather cold, and he felt his mood deteriorating further which each passing day. When he would try and catch her eye during class she would look away, and tracking her down outside of the classroom proved an impossible task. Merlin knows what that girl got up to in her spare time.

At one point, he'd even considered sending her an owl to beg for forgiveness. He had gotten halfway through writing a confession that he had indeed been lying about the whole thing, before he scrunched it into a ball and threw it unceremoniously into the fire. He couldn't bring himself to actually lie about it; it left too sour a taste in his mouth.

The Undercroft had become a necessary retreat, and he frequented the room almost daily to work out his frustrations. He was halfway through casting a barrage of spells when he heard a voice behind him.

"Sebastian?"

He froze with his wand raised mid-cast, turning quickly to face her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and slightly bloodshot, like she had been crying recently. It made his heart clench.

"I'm sorry for calling you a liar," she said. "I - I've realised that... that you were right. Avery and I don't have much in common after all. I ended it with him today."

"I'm sorry," he said, automatically.

She waved her hand dismissively. "I think I was just angry to find out that my entire relationship wasn't what I thought it was, you know? I really thought I'd found someone who truly understood me."

"I shouldn't have helped him for so long and kept it from you. I apologise," he said, truthfully.

She looked up at him then, gaze calculating. "Why did you help him?"

"Well, the first time was a total accident, to be honest. After that...I don't know. I guess I saw how happy you were and didn't want to be the one to ruin it." He laughed sardonically, rubbing the back of his neck, "though I guess I did that anyway, didn't I?"

"It's quite the habit of yours," she remarked, teasing, but it made him feel awful all the same.

"Yeah..."

She smiled softly at him, before crossing the floor and throwing her arms around his middle in a hug. He tensed, surprised, but soon wrapped his own arms around her, holding her close. Her hair smelled of lavender and he realised in that moment how desperately he'd missed the scent.

"I missed you," he murmered into her hair, gripping her a little tighter. The admittance made him feel a bit vulnerable.

"I missed you, too," she answered, the words becoming muffled by his shoulder.

After a long moment she regretfully pulled away. There was a twinkle in her eyes.

"I must say, I never took you for such a romantic, Sebastian. Some of those date and gift ideas were incredibly thoughtful of you," she remarked.

He could feel his face heating. "Oh, don't start. You talk my ear off all day every day; it was easy."

"Yes, but you listened."

"I care about you. It matters to me what you like and what makes you happy," he replied, surprised at his own candour.

Her eyes widened slightly, and he was now absolutely sure he must be blushing. He cleared his throat, the moment suddenly feeling too charged.

"Now, how about we both forget about that idiot and try and hex each other into oblivion. Care for a duel?" He challenged, twirling his wand between his fingers.

She laughed, and it was beautiful. "You always know what to say to cheer me up," she said, withdrawing her own wand from her pocket.

Seeing that smile directed at him once more made his heart beat faster and he felt his own lips turn up in response. Perhaps the rest of the year wouldn't be so unbearable, after all.

[arcadewonder]

time moves forward.

[choccy-milky]

omianne wip from over a year ago that ill never properly finish (redraw of 'the other father' by mac conner)

[anto-pops]

The Serpent's Paramour CH 10 - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Sebastian's scheme to infiltrate the Ministry sounds simple. You want it to be simple. But if there's one thing you've learned since joining up with him, it's that things almost never go according to plan, and for once, you're sick and tired of being right.

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, canon-typical violence, Dementors doing Dementor things

New chapter is up on Ao3 as well :))

It had been a long time since you’d found yourself outside King’s Cross Station. A seemingly endless crowd of people filtered into the multiple different entrances, some speaking with colleagues while others were completely alone, absorbed in their own thoughts as they prepared to head to work. You had told yourself that rejoining society after so many years spent by yourself would be like riding a broom; easy to manage, simple, and like second nature, seeing as you’d done it so many times in the past. 

In the end, you couldn’t have been more wrong. It was overwhelming. With all the different sights, sounds, and the assortment of scents that assaulted your nose as the biting, December morning breeze swept through the streets, it was a wonder you weren’t currently curled up on the ground in fetal position having a breakdown. 

To make matters worse, you were waiting on the footpath with Nora and the redheaded Ashwinder, Joshua. To say you were out of your element would be a monumental understatement, and you silently cursed Sebastian for leaving you to wait for him and Devlin alongside two people who likely wanted you dead. You hadn’t seen Nora since you’d used your darker magic to splinter the floor in your room apart, and Joshua had been absent from your sight ever since you’d lost control of your powers and nearly erupted in the garden. Those weren’t the greatest lasting impressions to have looming in the background, and you found yourself wondering what the two Ashwinders thought about having you accompany them to London. 

Nora, much to her credit, had said sorely little to you when she’d appeared in your room early this morning. It was for the best, considering you’d almost caved her head in with a Depulso charm in your half-asleep state. You definitely hadn’t anticipated the witch ever setting foot in your chambers again after the last time she’d crossed that threshold. Sebastian had apparently asked her to help you prepare to head to the Ministry– ‘to better fit in’, she’d said with a scowl. 

‘Fitting in’ evidently meant putting on the most uncomfortable chiffon dress you had ever had the misfortune of wearing. You hated going from having the freedom to wear trousers to having to layer three different types of skirts over one another, all for the sake of blending in. The petticoat beneath the body of your coral pink dress was itchy and irksome, and you had decided as soon as you’d put it on that it would make for great fire kindling later when you returned to the manor. The only silver lining of the whole ordeal was that you had managed to talk your way out of wearing a corset and a bloody bustle. That was where you drew the line. 

You did look relatively pretty, however. The gown– while uncomfortable and not something you were used to– was stunning. Your previously untamed hair had been combed through and styled back in a simple plait, then adorned with a few ivory hair pins. All in all, if you overlooked the real reason for your presence in the city, it was like you were playing pretend. 

Nora also looked ethereal. Clearly she had reserved the nicer dress for herself, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. It accentuated her assets in ways that left you jealous she had assets to begin with, and the coppery color of her attire brought out the icy hues of her eyes. If you didn’t already know she was an Ashwinder, you would have assumed she was the daughter of a wealthy noble from some faraway country. 

To your left, Joshua shuddered in response to another gust of chilly wind that nearly blew his fedora off. He was dressed modestly compared to you and Nora, having opted to wear a simple dark button down with an ascot and a grey vest over the top. His trousers were of the standard variety, but his shoes were dressy and polished. 

Where in the world did your new allies get all the money to buy such nice clothing? 

“If they aren’t back in the next five minutes, I’m getting the hell out of here,” Joshua muttered under his breath, his words nearly carried away in the breeze. 

Nora sighed, her frustration palpable even before she narrowed her cold eyes at the young man. “We told you to bring a coat. There were four different ones to choose from. You being cold is your own damn fault.” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still complain about being made to wait for half an hour,” he fired back instantly. Shaking his head, Joshua stuffed his hands in the pockets of his vest, cursing to himself when he was only able to fit half of the appendages inside the tiny slits. 

Keeping your mouth firmly shut, you looked away from your entourage and glanced around the bustling city streets. The last time you had been in London was after your graduation. You had barely lingered at the train station for five minutes before apparating away, the phantom memory of you and Professor Fig climbing aboard the carriage your fifth-year haunting you and dredging up emotions that were best left buried. The dragon attack and uncovering the ancient magic site hidden away in Gringotts felt like a lifetime ago. 

You wondered, then, what Professor Fig would make of you now. 

“Don’t you all look chipper,” came a familiar, sarcastic voice ahead of you. It sounded like Devlin, but when you turned to look, you were met with the sight of an unknown man. He was young, with green eyes, dark hair, and wearing an expensive looking wool overcoat on top of a pressed suit. The only thing that betrayed his true identity was the worn bowler hat perched atop his head, and your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Devlin?” you asked cautiously, and the green eyed man smirked. 

“In the flesh,” he proudly remarked, hesitating a moment before adding, “Well, someone else’s flesh, technically speaking.” 

Nora stepped forward to take in her father’s altered appearance, her mouth curling up into a rare, genuine smile that softened her otherwise sharp features. “Whose face did you borrow this time?” 

“William Taylor,” Devlin replied, smoothing his hands down the lush coat draped over his shoulders. “An Obliviator. He’s regularly assigned to attend court proceedings and handles muggles exposed to magic. Him being in the Detention Area won’t draw any attention.” 

“And Sebastian?” Nora inquired further. 

“Thomas Hughes. Junior Assistant to the Archivist.” 

You turned to track the voice as a middle aged man with neatly styled blond hair appeared behind Devlin. Traces of five o’clock shadow lined his pronounced jaw, and a nasty looking scar ran from his chin all the way down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his dark shirt. The top of Sebastian’s enchanted tattoo peaked out slightly– evidently unable to be hidden by magic given its purpose– but it wouldn’t stand out unless he took off his jacket. The man you realized was Sebastian stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers, the edges of his tailored coat flapping listlessly in the wind. Upon closer inspection, you realized the eyes were still the same color as his usual chocolate brown, just accentuated by crows feet that crinkled when he grinned. 

Thomas– or, Sebastian– turned to stare at you, his familiar eyes sweeping down your dressed up body before turning his attention to Nora. “Nice work,” he mused coyly, and your stomach flipped when the blonde woman dipped her head at him in a coquettish fashion. 

You clasped your hands together and started to wring your fingers, the flurry of uncomfortable emotions that gnawed at you making you question your decision to come. This was bound to end poorly, and if that sinking feeling wasn’t enough of a reason to second guess your presence here, the suggestive gaze Nora fixed Sebastian with was. 

The two of you hadn’t spoken since your momentary tryst in his office days earlier. You knew you had told him he might end up regretting it later on, but the possibility of that being the case made you sick to your stomach for some reason. 

“Your eyes are still the same,” Nora commented dryly. 

Said eyes made a full trip around their sockets as Sebastian shrugged, then nodded towards Devlin. “Not all of us can perfectly imitate faces. He’s the one with the copy cat power– I’m stuck using transfiguration spells, and trust me when I say they were never my strong suit. This is as good as it’s going to get.” 

Nora shot a proud smile at her father, who seemed to be greatly enjoying the praise heaped upon him. You cocked your head to the side as you took in Sebastian’s commentary, the implication of his statement registering a heartbeat later. You looked to Devlin and raised your brows as you asked in a low voice, “Are you a Metamorphmagus?” 

The older Ashwinder tipped his bowler hat forward, flashing you a smirk that oozed arrogance. “I am indeed. The second one born to my family in half a century. It’s an awfully useful ability, especially when you’re sneaking into the Ministry.” 

It most certainly was. As far as you knew, Metamorphmagi were incredibly rare amongst wizard-kind. Unlike Animagi like Natty, the powers that came with being a shapeshifting Metamorphmagus were typically hereditary, so no ordinary person could learn them. For the first time since this morning, you addressed Nora directly, your curiosity piqued in the wake of the discovery. “Are you one, too?” 

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, a modicum of insecurity showing on her otherwise schooled features. “No. How it gets passed down through bloodlines isn’t an exact science. My grandmother was one. She had four kids, but he’s the only one who got the ability.” 

To say you were intrigued was putting it mildly. Why hadn’t Devlin mentioned it to you before? You were desperate to learn more– to probe him for answers to the quickly growing list of questions in your mind– but you knew now wasn’t the time nor the place. Joshua was still shivering beside you, doing his best to appear put together in the face of Sebastian and Devlin’s arrival, but the two men still took note of his rigid posture. 

Sebastian jerked his thumb over his shoulder, his eyes jumping from person to person before finally landing on you. “We should get going. The less amount of time I have to spend concentrating on this spell, the better off we’ll be.” 

You were pretty sure you heard Devlin mutter something along the lines of “Sucks to be you”, but everyone was already moving in the direction of the Ministry, ready to tackle the task at hand. 

With your group finally set to break into one of the most heavily fortified government buildings of all time, you sent up a silent prayer. If it turned out to be anything like Gringotts, you hoped that the dark witch and wizards surrounding you were prepared. 

Anything less, and you’d all end up dead.

—

As it turned out, getting into the Ministry was the easy part. The five of you just… walked in. 

Not together, though. That would arouse suspicion. A Junior Assistant to the Archivist and an Obliviator coming to work together? It made no sense– especially considering the vast age gap between the two borrowed identities. 

No, there was a plan in place that you were all following to the letter. 

Nora had entered alongside her father, playing the part of a hapless muggle who was due to have her memory erased after witnessing an unfortunate display of magic that had killed her make-believe husband. She sold the act remarkably well, crying in earnest as she wiped tears and snot away from her face with a silk handkerchief Devlin had crudely tossed her way. 

You, Sebastian, and Joshua entered together next, although your assigned backstory was relatively pathetic compared to Devlin and Nora’s ironclad alibi. You and Joshua were posing as a couple of married scholars, joining ‘Thomas Hughes’ down in the Archives to lend your expertise in deciphering old tomes referencing long, forgotten kinds of magic. The glare you had shot Sebastian upon hearing your title had warranted a knowing grin from him, and you endeavored to smack him upside the head the second you left London. 

Part of you had worried about the guards detecting the transfiguration spell Sebastian was actively using on himself, but when the three of you walked through the heavily guarded entrance without so much as a glance from security, you knew you were in the clear. 

Devlin and Nora were across the massive lobby already, waiting for the rickety dumbwaiter to take them up to where they needed to go. The unfamiliar face of William Taylor glanced at your trio as you walked up to the service lift directly beside the first, and a curt dip of his chin was the only thing Devlin deigned to grace you with. Talking was pointless and largely discouraged, you recalled Sebastian saying, so you mirrored the action before turning back to the creaking machinery in front of you. 

The iron gate of the lift was pulled aside by a journeyman already inside, and he stepped back to allow for a cluster of people to board. Your group was amongst the first to step on, and once the gate had been closed, there was a loud clang as the mechanism began to ascend towards the top of the building. 

You were shoved up against the back of the lift, the taller bodies of the actual employees all around you leaving the air hot and thick with intermingling scents. It was stifling, and it took a herculean effort not to shove at the back of the man in front of you to create space for yourself. Sebastian’s disguised face glanced down at you, taking in the tight expression on your face before placing his hand reassuringly on your shoulder. The tiny gesture was the extent of the comfort he could afford to offer you, but you appreciated it all the same. 

It took far too long for the lift to begin emptying itself. The shrill chime that went off every time a new floor was visited made your ears ring, and it wasn’t until you were seven levels above ground that the bulk of the people aboard disembarked. You exhaled shakily, relaxing your posture as you were finally given the space to shift freely, and Joshua chuckled under his breath at your blatant display of discomfort. 

Ignoring the journeyman completely, you broke the silence within the lift to mutter in a low voice, “Keep laughing and see what happens.” 

“Apologies, wife,” Joshua stressed the word, shaking his head and grinning to himself. “I forgot that you haven’t been out much recently.” 

Sebastian interrupted the momentary banter with a stern look, the gruff expression on Thomas Hughes’ face enough to have Joshua lifting his hands in a show of surrender. Nothing else was said until the three of you arrived on the tenth floor, the gate of the lift groaning open as the journeyman moved aside to allow for you to step off. He didn’t say a word as he closed himself in following your exit, then began his descent back to the lobby of the Ministry. 

You almost wished you had stayed aboard the lift, because the sight that greeted you was something straight out of a nightmare. 

Dark tiles lined the floors and the walls, reflecting a dim, blueish light that seemed to come from nowhere since there were no windows. It gave the hallway before you the appearance of a corridor that led into the afterlife– made worse by the shadowy figures that darted above the floor in the chamber ahead. The temperature difference up here compared to the humid lift was stark; it was freezing, and your breath fogged out in front of you as you anxiously sighed, crossing your arms over your chest in a bid to retain some warmth. 

When you looked at your companions, you paused. Joshua looked to be as nervous as you were, his leg bouncing a mile a minute as he expelled the tension that was swiftly overtaking him. Sebastian, though… 

Even though he wore the face of another man, those familiar eyes of his were riddled with fear. 

Being here had to bring back memories of Azkaban. That was the only logical explanation you could come up with. 

“How long do we wait for Devlin?” You found yourself asking, doing your best to distract Sebastian from the dreary thoughts that no doubt clouded his mind. He blinked a few times before turning away from the chamber ahead, his narrowed, uneasy gaze landing directly on you. He took in the sight of you for a few seconds, barely moving and hardly breathing as he worked through whatever turbulent emotions plagued him, until he finally squared his shoulders and looked back down the hallway again. 

“If he’s not already here, he should be coming up shortly,” he muttered, dropping his hand to his thigh where his wand was securely strapped in its holster. “We can’t linger here, though. It’ll draw attention.” 

Joshua elected to speak up then, his teeth chattering furiously all the while, “What are we supposed to say if we’re caught? The Junior Assistant to the Archivist in the Detention Area is bound to raise questions.” 

“The story is you’re both helping Thomas Hughes decipher older types of magic that pre-exist our time,” he explained quietly. “We can say that the Dementors are worth cross referencing with that magic since they’re as old as wizard kind. We won’t probe around for long– once Devlin and Nora get here, we’ll find Arthur’s cell and get him out.” 

It all sounded so easy when he put it that way. You were supposed to just lie through your teeth in the face of trouble, then break Sebastian’s informant out with no problems? There was no way the enchantments within the Ministry’s Detention Area were susceptible to measly unlocking charms. 

No, there had to be a warden of some sort. Someone holding the keys to the cages and patrolling the halls. You made a mental note to keep your eyes peeled for anyone fitting that description. 

Getting thrown into one of the cells and sent away to Azkaban wasn’t on your to-do list today. 

Sebastian began walking forward then, the hesitation in his steps evident as the distance between him and the Dementors shrank. You and Joshua followed behind him, the two of you taking on the roles of inquisitive scholars who were probably a little too eager to get up close and personal with the soul-sucking wraiths. 

You forced a giddy expression to your face as you neared the end of the corridor, your smile wobbling slightly when two of the cloaked figures swooped down from the rounded ceiling to cut off your path. Sebastian halted in his tracks, his face impassive and showing no signs of alarm as he promptly turned so he could gesture at you and Joshua. “The Archivist has requested his colleagues from Belfast observe the nature of your kind to better understand the tomes currently being reviewed. With your permission, we will complete our task and be on our way.” 

His voice was unrecognizable as he spoke, the tenor so much deeper and lacking the teasing lilt that you had come to know. Your heart pounded against your sternum as you willed your gaze to shift to the Dementors– to the gaping holes in place of where their eyes should have been– and their gaunt, withered skulls made it hard to maintain your curious facade. Still, you leaned around Sebastian, taking in every detail of the phantom figures with rapt fascination.

These were the things that had kept Sebastian subdued in Azkaban for three years. They fed off of human happiness and left prisoners husks of their former selves. Just standing before them was enough to imbue you with a healthy dose of fear that you did your best to keep under wraps, but you knew you would never forget the sight of the ghastly creatures. 

The wraiths hovered in your path for a long time, and the only sign that they actually saw you was the subtle shifting of their hooded heads. Mentally psyching yourself up for a fight, you looked to Joshua, who was doing a less than stellar job of appearing interested in the Dementors. Instead he just looked like he was on the verge of throwing up. 

After far too long for comfort, the figures floated back, no longer looming ominously in your faces as they parted to reveal the path that led into the Detention Area. Your shoulders relaxed, as did Joshua’s, and Sebastian was the picture of confidence as he smoothly said, “Thank you.” 

For someone who had likely been subjected to torture at the hands of the inhuman husks, he was holding it together remarkably well. 

He didn’t waste a second before striding past the Dementors, his head held high and spine straight as the three of you left the first chamber and came upon the second. The sight of bars lining the tiled walls was equal parts reassuring and anxiety inducing. Devlin and Nora needed to arrive before you could move forward with anything, and there was still an obscene number of shadowy figures lurking around. You would all have to continue to play your parts to the best of your abilities. 

“This is fucking insane,” Joshua hissed under his breath, yanking his fedora off his head to rake his trembling fingers through his hair. “How the fuck are we supposed to get out later? Those demons are going to eat our souls before we even find Arthur.” 

“Stop talking,” Sebastian growled, the bushy brows of Thomas Hughes furrowing dramatically. “We’ll be fine.” 

The younger Ashwinder seemed to think otherwise, but he still snapped his mouth shut, rubbing his hands down his cheeks as he looked around. 

“This place…” you started to say, a sliver of genuine wonder coloring your words. “It’s terrible. You can feel how lifeless it is. The fact that it’s just sitting above the rest of the Ministry is unbelievable.” 

“This place has got nothing on Azkaban,” Sebastian murmured quietly, that haunted, far away look in his eyes returning full force. Against your will, you found your chest constricting as guilt overtook you. “Someone once told me that Dementors were born from the first dark magic ever used in this world. It was probably a bunch of hogwash, though. No one knows where they originated from, or why they are the way they are. They were discovered on an island in the North Sea thousands of years ago, but no one knows how they got there.” 

Even though it didn’t seem possible, Joshua paled even further, the greenish hue to his cheeks amplified by the murky light that illuminated the chamber. “The North Sea?”

The weathered face of Thomas Hughes nodded, Sebastian’s alert eyes scanning the ceiling as the shadowy figures above darted back and forth. “The island wasn’t Azkaban as we know it back then, but that’s where the Dementors were found. It’s ironic that the Ministry uses them to guard the place. They know all the nooks and crannies better than anyone.” 

It was a sobering thought, realizing that the wraiths swarming the tenth floor of the Ministry were in fact thousands of years old. It shouldn’t have surprised you– after all, you had undoubtedly seen more far-fetched things since your fifth-year. But something about the creatures imbued you with terror so innate, you couldn’t help but wonder if your ancestors had known to steer clear of the ghastly phantoms. 

You were certainly playing with fire by lying to them… if they could even conceptualize lying to begin with. 

The three of you meandered around the room for a good ten minutes, doing your best to look interested in the unholy creatures circling above. Maintaining your facade was the key to everything here, so you did exactly that; you fixed your eyes on the Dementors overhead and occasionally said something official-sounding to Joshua, who was doing very little to act natural. The poor man looked like he was going to pass out given the circumstances. 

After what felt like an eternity, there was a disembodied clang from deeper in the cell area. Your trio went eerily still, eyes wide with fright as your combined attention was dragged to the cage at the far end of the chamber. A muffled groan soon followed from within, and your panicked gaze jumped from Joshua to Sebastian. The marred skin on the neck of his transfigured disguise shifted as he swallowed thickly, then looked away to begin inching his way towards the source of the noise, and you swore you had never wanted to flee from a place more. Not even the traps you had unwittingly set off in ancient magic sites had scared you so badly. 

The Dementors overhead continued to swirl around the ceiling as Sebastian led the way towards the cell. Joshua nearly stumbled over his own feet when he finally got them to obey his will, his hand hovering cautiously over where you knew his wand was concealed beneath his vest. As you moved to follow the two men, you found yourself regretting having strapped your own wand to your leg under the copious layers of clothing you wore. Withdrawing it now would require virtually flashing the cloaked wraiths and drawing their attention, so you were left to dig your nails into your palms as you curled your hands into tight fists. 

How effective would punching a Dementor prove to be? 

Sebastian hesitated for a moment before peering around the wall of the cell, his entire body going ramrod straight when he caught sight of whatever was within the cage. You and Joshua halted in synch, the suspense causing the repository’s magic to thrum violently in your veins despite your best attempts at remaining calm, and you had to fight the urge to turn tail and bolt towards the lift with every ounce of willpower you possessed. Smothering your flight response, you forced your legs into motion, moving to stand beside Sebastian so you could see whatever it was that had him so perturbed. 

His hand shot up to curl around your bicep when you saw Nora and Devlin laying on the floor of the cell. Devlin’s appearance had returned to the version of himself you knew, his Metamorphmagus abilities nullified in the wake of whatever had apprehended them. The father-daughter duo wasn’t moving– their bodies stiffer than boards– but their matching blue eyes were open and frantic as they stared imploringly at you and Sebastian. 

Fuck.

The sound of something hitting the floor behind you drew your attention, and you and Sebastian both turned around in alarm to find Joshua sprawled out on the floor, his entire body as frozen and rigid as the two Ashwinders in the cell. A tall figure emerged from the shadows within an unlocked cage close to the corridor, stepping out with their wand raised and effectively blocking your only exit. The familiar, pulsing red tip had your mouth falling open in shock and fear. 

Ominis Gaunt stood before you– as poised and regal as ever– his milky-blue eyes narrowed in distaste as he used his refined magical talents to pinpoint exactly where you and Sebastian were. His wand leveled itself at his former friend, the unspoken threat in the action apparent, and you felt Sebastian’s hand tighten around your arm in response. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know you were here?” Ominis asked, cold indifference coloring his tone. “Or did you forget that the brand you bear would announce your presence the second you stepped on to Ministry property? You’ve gotten sloppy, Sebastian.” 

“Ominis,” you muttered dubiously, stunned to hear him speak so vehemently after all these years. The soft inflection of his voice had vanished, replaced with a mature, biting tenor that left little room for argument. “Ominis, please, just take a moment–” 

“Be quiet,” he spat venomously, and you recoiled as though he’d slapped you. “I don’t want to hear it. You disappear for years after ostracizing me for a decision we made together, then show up with him and think you can tell me what to do?” He shook his head as a sharp, humorless laugh fell from his lips. “So much for it being ‘the right thing to do’. You’re a bloody hypocrite.” 

Movement from above drew your eye, and you glanced up warily to find the Dementors ever so slowly descending closer. The way they continued to spiral as they grew nearer reminded you of vultures circling around a dying animal, watching and waiting for the chance to feast. 

Sebastian released your arm to hold his hands out in front of him slowly, almost as though he was trying to pacify the blond man. But the glower he had fixed to Ominis’ face was anything but placating. 

It was murderous. 

“Arthur isn’t here, is he?” Sebastian asked in a low, dangerous voice. Ominis only sneered in response. “He was bait. You knew I’d come. How long did you hide in that cell, hoping that I’d walk in?” 

“Long enough to know that you don’t value your people very much,” Ominis retorted. “Seven days and seven nights. That’s how long you left him to rot. We had to send him away after four, since the Dementors kept picking him apart. There wouldn’t have been anything left otherwise.”

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, then.” Sebastian chuckled darkly, keeping his eyes glued to Ominis as he shook his head. “You’re more like your kin than ever before. Subjecting a man to torment like that, all for the sake of getting me here… you must make the Gaunt family proud.” 

“Shut up!” Ominis hissed, advancing forward a step and prompting the wraiths above to come closer. You weren’t sure which would prove to be worse; being imprisoned at the hands of your old friend, or having your soul sucked dry by thousand-year-old entities. There wasn’t a single part of you that wanted to find out. “For years I tried giving you the benefit of the doubt. You escaped, and I took on the case in the hopes that I’d find out you had run off to live in seclusion in some hovel. I could live with declaring you dead and shelving everything if that were the case. But then I find out that not only are you still skulking around using dark magic, you’re also commanding every Ashwinder in the country. You embraced being a criminal. You’ve forced my hand, Sebastian. The only person to blame for this is yourself.” 

The next series of events happened so quickly, you barely had time to register anything. 

Sebastian shoved you to the floor, your palms connecting with the tile so violently that you heard and felt a sickening crack from your left wrist. You couldn’t stop the yelp of pain that ripped from your throat, but you were largely ignored as Sebastian’s hand flew down to his side, snatching his wand from its holster before casting Confringo and snarling when Ominis swiftly blocked the curse. 

Now a seasoned Auror, Ominis held his ground with little effort, returning fire in quick succession and forcing Sebastian to back up a few steps. The camouflage of Thomas Hughes wavered as Sebastian’s focus weakened– his transfigured disguise falling away shortly thereafter– and Ominis audibly cursed when he felt the ripple of magic. 

“Still a coward hiding behind other people,” Ominis jabbed, flicking his wand in front of him to send out a Diffindo charm that Sebastian failed to dodge. He jumped away, throwing himself against the cell door as his right side was left unprotected, and the spell tore through fabric and skin like butter. Your scream caught in your throat as Sebastian sagged against the iron bars, a pained grimace flashing across his face before it was replaced by a bloodthirsty expression. 

“It’s all you were ever a master at; using people. You used me,” Ominis continued, casting another spell that Sebastian barely managed to block. “You used her,” Ominis waved his wandless hand in your direction. “You used Anne as an excuse to push the limits of what was allowed. When does it end, Sebastian?” 

Sebastian groaned as he pulled himself upright against the bars, the subtle sound of blood dripping to the floor filling the room, and you stared wide-eyed at the growing red puddle beneath his feet. He fired off another wordless spell that emitted a green glow–one that carried the foul scent of an Unforgivable with it– and a growl sounded from him when Ominis blocked that attack too. The Dementor's overhead began to swoop down eerily close to Sebastian– the air around him taking on a wispy, transient quality that was accompanied by his breathless wheezes. 

No. No, no, no. 

Your fingers curled against the cold floor, the throbbing ache in your wrist muted as you wracked your brain for a solution. Apparating wasn’t possible within the Detention Area, seeing as there were countless wards preventing magical means of escape. You were certain there was a spell of some sort to fend off Dementors, but even though you had read about it years ago, you didn’t know it. Nora, Devlin, and Joshua were still petrified. Self-preservation demanded that you leave them all to their fate and escape by yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do such a heartless thing. Sebastian… 

He was going to die. 

If you didn’t intervene and do something, he would either bleed out or end up a soulless husk at the hands of the fiendish wraiths swarming him. Your skin prickled as the power sequestered deep inside of you began to rise to the surface in lieu of your heightened emotions. 

“Ominis,” came your frantic, pleading voice. The heels of your boots scuffed against the floor as you pushed yourself to your feet. “You have to stop! He’s going to die– please, listen to me!” 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Ominis didn’t look in your direction, his wand still stubbornly leveled at Sebastian even though he was the farthest thing from a threat right now. “I don’t know what prompted you to join him after all this time, but I won’t back down. He’s killed people. He uses Unforgivable Curses like they’re nothing, and he’s never going to stop. I am legally obligated to see this through.” 

“We’re trying to cure Anne! Please– we’re so close to finishing this, Ominis. I know you don’t want to hear it, but the ends will justify the means. He was your friend once! Doesn’t that count for something?” 

Those stormy, unseeing eyes of his landed on you in the next second, and you froze when you caught sight of the pained scowl on his face. “Do you even hear yourself? I’ve heard all of this before– you have heard all of this before. History is repeating itself as we speak, and you’re going to side with him? Do you realize who you’re throwing your life away for?” 

The cool wood of your wand seemed to burn against the bare skin of your thigh, so close and yet so far away while hidden beneath your dress. You needed to get your hands on it to channel your magic. It was festering to life quickly– like a cauldron on the brink of boiling over– and you prayed that the desperate plan forming in your mind would work. You inched your fingers down to gather the hem of your dress in your shaking hands, but Ominis was too aware for his own good. He pointed his wand at you, furrowing his brows as a disbelieving look crossed his features. 

“Are you serious right now? I can’t believe you,” he huffed breathlessly, shocked that you would even consider drawing your wand on him. His knuckles blanched white around the handle of his own as he doubled down and said, “Don’t make me do this, I am begging you. Stand aside and let me do what I have to. I’ll figure out what to do with you after.” 

“No, I’m begging you,” you fired back instantly, the pleading tone you had used earlier entirely absent. In its place was something fearful– something cautionary. He had no clue what it meant to deny you, but he was about to find out. The memory of Isidora’s magic erupting out of you without your wand to aid you made you bristle, and you mentally psyched yourself up for the pain that would accompany unleashing it to destroy the Detention Area. 

If the whole fucking place was reduced to rubble, would the wards be destroyed, too? There was only one way to find out. 

“Please, Ominis,” you said once more, releasing the hem of your dress to rise to your full height. Your eyes jumped over to Sebastian’s sagging form against the bars of the cell, his eyes half-lidded as he weakly applied pressure to the wound in his side. The Dementors weren’t relenting, and you realized you had officially run out of time. “I can’t ask again; let us go.” 

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or maybe it was just wishful thinking, but you could have sworn Ominis had unshed tears in his eyes. His thin lips pressed together as he shook his head, steeling his nerves as he croaked, “I can’t. You don’t know what will happen if I let him walk away. You don’t know what he’s capable of– he has the support of nearly every dark witch and wizard in the country. I would be unleashing a monster.” 

“He’s just one man, Ominis,” you whispered. “One man who sold his soul to save his sister. Can you blame him? Don’t you want to see Anne whole and healthy again?” 

It was a gamble to throw Anne’s name into the conversation. You weren’t sure if Ominis even stayed in touch with her anymore– didn’t know if he was aware of her current state. Weeks spent with Sebastian had revealed nothing to you about his twin, but you were fairly certain she was at St. Mungo’s in the city. It was reasonable to believe that Ominis would keep tabs on the younger Sallow sibling following her brother’s incarceration. 

The manipulation paid off in the form of Ominis’ wand lowering slightly as his face fell. To use Anne against him in such a way made you feel like a monumental piece of shit, but you were desperate. You didn’t want to hurt Ominis, but if he didn’t relent, you knew he would be caught in the inevitable crossfire. 

“You really believe that, don’t you?” he muttered the question under his breath, but it came out sounding sad. Like he had realized that you were too obstinate to be reasoned with. “Anne wouldn’t want this. You know that. She accepted her curse a long time ago. How do you think she would feel knowing that her brother was doing this– condemning himself– all in the name of fixing her?” 

You didn’t have an answer. Anne had already watched Sebastian kill their uncle, and it had driven her away from him immediately. But before that, you had seen the hope in her eyes when her brother would come around with poultices and herbs, claiming that they might help ease her suffering. Once upon a time, she had wanted to get better. 

Had she really given up? 

Sebastian groaned from his crumpled spot against the cell door, the most recent Dementor feeding from him veering up towards the ceiling to make room for the next. He looked pale, and the despondent expression on his face nearly cleaved your heart in two. You knew he wanted to fight. He would stand and defend himself tooth and nail if he were able, because that was just the kind of person he was. 

But he couldn’t. 

His now dull eyes were fixed on you as he jerked his head weakly towards the hallway leading to the lift. Was he telling you to run? After everything he had sacrificed and worked to accomplish, he was giving up? He had chased you through the woods weeks ago and kidnapped you. He had held you captive in his stupid manor and kept your wand from you until you agreed to help him, and now he was throwing in the towel? He was silently insisting that you get out while he and the petrified Ashwinders you had come with… what? 

Got arrested? Died? 

The thought made your blood boil, and even though he was pitifully bleeding out on the floor, you glared at him. 

“If it’s any consolation,” you heard yourself say, a heavy blanket of apathy settling over your shoulders. “I’m sorry, Ominis.” 

“I never wanted–” the blond stopped mid-sentence, his body stiffening as the suffocating sensation of dark magic began to fill the room. His unseeing eyes darted around, his head swiveling back to Sebastian when he naturally assumed he was the culprit of the festering feeling. But the brunet didn’t even react to the Auror’s angry expression. No, his gaze was glued to you, his irises more lively than they had been since apparating to London. 

Isidora’s magic buzzed against your skin, the crackling sound steadily growing louder until the noise was akin to a hundred lightbulbs on the verge of shorting out. It felt as harsh as it sounded– like a million needles piercing your flesh over and over and over before being doused with alcohol potent enough to make the wounds sting. It was a roaring tempest within you, pushing and straining in its incessant search for a way out, only to find none. No wand, and no means of control. 

You never thought you would willingly put yourself through something like this again, but life had always proven to have a wicked sense of humor. 

Ominis’ hazy eyes were wider than saucers when he faced you once more, finally realizing that you were the source of the unnatural magic. “What the hell is that? What are you doing?” 

“Cast Protego,” you grit through your teeth, the imminent eruption enough to leave your knees buckling from the agony already coursing through you. “Do it now!” 

Ominis staggered towards you as he stepped closer, his confusion and anger evident in his voice. “What– stop!” 

“I’m sorry.” 

With that, you finally let go, hoping and praying that the torrent of raw pain and destruction you unleashed didn’t kill everybody in the process.

[aroace-number-eight]

"Having secrets means you do a lot of lying. Not because you're evil or a bad person or anything like that, but out of necessity."

[kay9leo]

Outatime - I

Takes place in A New York Yankee in Hogwarts' Courtyard, 1890 timeline in which Iñaki, a witch from 2008 is stuck in the past during the Hogwarts Legacy era.

Now, Iñaki is trying to go home. However she has some trouble along the way.

Part 1: The Future.

March 20, 1891

Professor Fig’s wake was going to be held today.

It was something she found herself dreading as Hogwarts grounds became prepped with chairs, flowers and a podium that would’ve been better kept in the Great Hall for school announcements instead of one used to prepare eulogies for the departed professor.

For her magical guardian while she was stuck in the past.

Now she was on her own.

She knew how to get back to the future.

She just needed to leave.

Today.

And miss her adoptive dad’s funeral to be able to go home.

She stabbed her breaded chicken breast as if it held the heart of the dragon form of Ranrok.

“Now what did that poor schnitzel do to you to deserve to be stabbed?” Sebastian joked next to her.

Iñaki sighed as she shrugged, not even bothering to reply to Sebastian. Instead, she started cutting the breaded chicken breast and began eating.

“At least you’re eating. That’s a good thing.” Sebastian said with a sigh before he began eating his dish as well. “Iñaki, I know today is going to be a difficult day, but you’ll get through it. Like how you get through everything…just know that I’m here if you want to speak. About anything. Please.”

This time Iñaki glanced at him, her preternatural lighting blue eyes meeting his warm doe light brown eyes. While most would be unnerved by her unnatural blue eyes –its coloration a lingering effect from being around major ancient magical hot spots that her own ancient magic interacted with– Sebastian was one of the few who wasn’t fazed by it.

Instead, his own magic always seems to seek to challenge it as he met her eyes with steadfast resolution, care and concern.

Not that she blamed him.

She didn’t mean to slowly go mute these past few days as preparations for Professor Fig’s wake came closer like the invertible sunset.

There were too many thoughts in her head. Too many calculations. Too many emotions.

Her thoughts, always on the journal she swiped from his desk a few hours before the battle thinking she had time later to ask him about his theory of being able use Ancient Magica to jump through time. He was used to her taking it to write her own notes on what she gathered before she would return it to him so he could add his own.

She wanted to add the location of the spot where she woke up in the past. It was the last thing that help solidify Professor’s Fig plan he had written for her in his journal that not only summarized his theory of Ancient Magical Time Travel but also had his summary of everything they knew so far about her sudden arrival to the past in the summer of 1890 after he found her during his research on ancient magic.

And it also had a picture of the two of them on her second day of school.

The old man was damned excited to be her magical guardian.

He was like her dad while she was stuck in the past.

Was her adopted dad while she was here.

Now he was dead.

She sniffed, refusing to acknowledge the tears building up behind her eyes.

“Iñaki...” Sebastian said as he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I’m here for you. Whenever you’re ready to talk.”

If she was being honest, she couldn’t really recall the last time she sat down to talk to someone about the battle besides the Ministry officials who stormed into the hospital wing to see her resting on a cot.

Iñaki had tried to convince Sebastian that she’ll be alright since Prof. Weasley would be with her as her temporary guardian while she spoke with the “useless Ministry’s aurors”.

Sebastian’s words, not hers.

And he said it while glaring at the Aurors who waited at the foot of her bed as if they were vultures ready to peak at her battered body.

Prof. Weasley was the one who managed to get him to leave by stating that she would take his privileges away from seeing Iñaki during her stay in the hospital if he didn’t leave. NOW.

Sebastian nodded but he didn’t leave peacefully as far as the other aurors or Prof. Weasley knew.

While he walked away with both hands formed to fist, Iñaki was the only one who was able to spot how both hands had his thumb between his index and middle finger. A rude gesture from her mother’s home country she accidentally taught him once he figured out that she was insulting him during their lapse of friendship that she often referred to as The Break.

It wasn’t until after The Kintsugi, when the two finally went on to repair their friendship did Iñaki actually explained what that hand gesture meant along with the term Kintsugi.

He was essentially giving her the middle finger with that hand gesture. And if she wanted to stretch the hand gesture’s rudeness even further, he was essentially calling her a cunt.

Sebastian laughed when he learned that before quickly apologizing to her for using it against her. While he may have been angry, he stated his father taught him to be better.

His usage of rude hand gestures was definitely something Solomon taught him along with his distrust of aurors as Sebastian stomped away. To her surprise, after the meeting, Sebastian never bothered to ask her about what happened in the battle. Iñaki thought he would ask.

He was always curious, more of a Ravenclaw than a Slytherin at times.

It was his best and worst trait that he had.

Yet…

He never pushed her to say anything about that night.

For that she was grateful for.

She wanted it buried.

Tossed into the Hudson River with concrete shoes so that those memories can remain in the past, unable to surface.

Iñaki squeezed his hand back.

Sebastian gave a small smile.

Her heart skipped.

Like it has been doing these past few days since things had calmed down.

Sebastian never left her side.

Always attentive.

Always caring.

Always there.

Apparently almost dying caused him to stick to her side like a static balloon to a wall.

The sad guilty depressed boy that remained after Sebastian killed his uncle had vanished after the Battle of Hogwarts (as people called it). In his place, stood a different boy.

A determined boy.

A worried boy.

A caring boy.

A boy she for oncem, didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble since he was doing all the worry for her since that bloody night.

Always attentive

Always caring.

Always there.

Which became a problem as she read Professor Fig’s journal in the middle of the night in her bed with the curtains closed around her as she tried to remember the details she needed as if she was studying for the O.W.L.s.

Iñaki wanted to go home.

She long overstayed her welcome.

Yet the days, instead of crawling by slowly, start running. That day she dreaded was coming closer like a dragon closing in on its prey.

She tried to run. Hide. Isolate. The student body murmuring details about who was coming, who was going to be there and who was going to deliver the eulogy still managed to reach her ears.

Everyone was surprised that apparently Eleanor Fig had a daughter.

An adopted daughter.

Professor Hecate had notified her that as his daughter, it would be best for her to give the speech to send him off while the two had tea reviewing the time travel plan Professor Fig had left her.

Thankfully nobody knew yet that she was his adopted daughter besides Professor Hecate and Professor Weasley. And thankfully, only Professor Hecate knew that she was from the future.

Dinah Hecate was once an Unspeakable. She understood.

She also understood how Iñaki didn’t want to be the one to deliver the eulogy.

Professor Fig’s wake would be today on the Spring equinox.

Equinoxes were powerful days when she could test out his theory and see if it would work.

And it would be the most likely date it would work without relying solely on her Ancient Magic.

All she needed to do was leave while no one was noticing -not with his wake being the star of the show- and test his theory to go home. No one would notice she would vanish. Professor Hecate would cover for her if she decided to go through with the plan.

All she needed to do was miss Professor Eleazar Fig’s wake-

Doc is dead. Her mind stated as took her hand back. She picked up the fork and she stabbed another piece of breaded chicken before putting it in her mouth to eat it.

“Iñaki talk to me.” Sebastian said as she turned to face him. “I miss hearing your voice.”

She was going home.

Nobody can know.

It would break the rules as Professor Dinah told her.

It was getting harder to keep the truth from Sebastian.

And as her date to go home came closer and closer…

“Please.” His warm brown eyes begged her as he stared into her eye, as if he was trying to read her mind as he held her hand with the fork.

…she found that it was getting harder and harder to be completely open with Sebastain as Professor Fig’s wake came.

It was as if the words got caught in her throat as she met the eyes of her best friend.

Who wouldn’t exist in the world she was going to.

Who would also be dead in her time.

He took the fork out of her hold before holding both of her hands in his.

“Iñaki…I’m here for you.”

She immediately threw up the occlumency shield Professor Dinah taught her at the start of the year as she took in a deep breath and opened her mouth to say…

I’m sorry Sebastian. I’m just upset that my mentor and guardian who’s one of the two people who knew that I’m an accidental time traveler stuck in the past and was the closest thing I have to a parent here -while mine aren’t even born yet- is dead. His wake is on the day I need to leave to go home…I need to leave you…and I can’t even tell you why I’m leaving because I would be breaking the rules.

Instead, she sighed as she closed her mouth before her heart could betray her and take over her lips.

She turned around back to the table and took a sip of water from a goblet as the reality of her own internal words struck her.

Water always helped when she was upset and wanted to cry like there was no tomorrow.

Maybe she can sneak away during the ruckus of dinner, before the ceremony would begin and try the ritual and see if shego back to the future and finally, at last, go HOME and pretend this whole thing was just a nightmar-

“Iñaki.” Sebastian stated, his voice cracked despite how soft and tender it was as if he was speaking to an injured cat he found wandering around Hogwarts. She looked at him to find that he was handing her a handkerchief with worry filled in his eyes. She must’ve given him a look as he continued explaining, “For your tears. Would you like a hug-”

She hid her face in his chest as his arms wrapped around her back as the dam broke and all she could mumble was:

“He’s dead. Eleazar Fig is dead.”

It was the first time she cried since she arrived in the past.

The first friend she made in this time period, her mentor, her magical guardian and adoptive father who found her lost in the woods was.

GONE.

A sudden downpour fell over Hogwarts as lightning and thunder filled the sky outside, matching her mood on the inside as she broke apart. Sebastian’s steady hug was the only reason why she was able to sit up as she wept into his chest.

…

She wasn’t able to sneak away.

Her heart wouldn’t let her.

Not with how this would be the last time she could say goodbye to her mentor.

Her father-figure.

Her friend.

Instead, she went to the wake and was the one to give the eulogy as the last person who spoke to him…before he died.

Professor Hecate gave her a tearful smile, hugging her as she left the stage.

“Just know your adoptive father would be proud of you. As am I. There’s always tomorrow. Your magic should be strong enough to take you home without the equinox by now. Just rest for now Iñaki. Let me know before you leave.” Dinah whispered into her ears.

The rest of the day was spent with Sebastian never leaving her side. After the ceremony, the two walked around the Great Lake until they collapsed in the Undercroft where she cried into his chest until the two fell asleep on the couch in each other’s arm.

Iñaki Carmen Martinez Cariaga didn’t go back home that night.

Nor the next day.

Or next week.

Or the next full moon.

As each potential homecoming date passed, Iñaki found that she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

Especially with how Sebastian followed her like a loyal guard hound.

Her personal human patronus, fighting against the depression demons of her mind.

And like how she once protected and helped him at his lowest.

So did he.

They were friends after all.

Even if her heart called her a liar.

While it also yearned to go home.

To the future.

(Line Divider by @strangergraphics-archive)

[sunshines-legacy]

😍