#writing-intheundercroft | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writing-intheundercroft · 2 years ago

Text

The Night Shift

AO3 Link

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC

Word Count: 10,206

Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)

Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???

Night One

“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.

You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties. You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.

“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages. Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons. Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded. So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.

With few exceptions.

But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day. You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching. It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people. You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.

Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.

“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.

“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”

“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”

“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”

“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”

“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose. “And very few days off.”

“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.

Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch. I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”

You swallow thickly. It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow. At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another. You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.

“Oi, Larson! Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.”

Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit. He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.

You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion. Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel. He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.

“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”

Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice. It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out. And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years. The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.

No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work. You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.

Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”

The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.

There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine. It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”

She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her. “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.

“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

You’re doing fine, you think. You’re at the top of your field. You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you. The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.

A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.

“I’m happy. Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”

You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom. It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital. It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.

Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes. Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains. Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline. Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward. Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.

The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames. A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth. There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information.

“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful. Lost a few–even more are bleeding. It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”

“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them. Can someone bring me a coffee?”

He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.

You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name. Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain. And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.

Before you even realize it, you’re running to them. The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.

Sebastian looks awful.

Correction–Sebastian looks dead.

“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”

“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects. His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”

“Move,” you urge the two of them. They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.

Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love. You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.

“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath. The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.

You let out the blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.

To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised. Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year. You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars.

“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”

You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting. He’d be thankful now that you did.

“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”

You don’t want to. Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest. You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.

There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut. The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.

“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later. In the meantime, there are others.”

Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.

“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”

“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.

Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done. From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included). Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital. But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them. Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring. They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.

After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened. You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.

You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.

But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.

“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you.

You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest.

Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.

Night Two

You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied. Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.

“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps. She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”

“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.

“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.”

You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.

“How is Sallow? The patient in 213.”

She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you. Do you know him?”

You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.

After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door. It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.

“Come in!”

Shit.

You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you. He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.

“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”

“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”

“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns.

You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”

You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”

He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”

“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really? I’ve lost five damn years in my head? What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.” Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.

“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed. Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.

His smile fades. “What?”

“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie. Was it a lie? You honestly can’t remember.

“I would never,” Sebastian bites back. “I would never break up with you.”

“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay. We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”

“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?”

You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water. Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel much better,” you assure him.

Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes. He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere. But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period. It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.

Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body. With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him. The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso. Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.

You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.

The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy. He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room. You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.

That had been two years ago. You wonder what’s changed since then.

Night Three

Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered. Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.

There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off. His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union. You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.

Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you. You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.

You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anne,” you sigh into her touch. Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her. She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here? It’s so late.”

“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”

“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”

Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”

You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”

Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you. I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.

You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth. That we ended amicably. That we were fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.

It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt. Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde. It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.

“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.

“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”

You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact? Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.

That’s a question for another time, you decide.

“It’s late, you two should be getting home. Visitor hours are over.” you remind them.

“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry. I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”

“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours. I decide whose side I’m on.”

Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks. Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart.

After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave. You’re finally able to start your rounds. Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward. Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week. Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.

Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in. Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep. He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.

“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.

“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”

“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart. Nothing particularly new, and no memories back. He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies. It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.

“Open your shirt, please.”

Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”

You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”

Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell. A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops. You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving.

“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”

“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.”

You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”

“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian. Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”

“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me. Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”

You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.

Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”

“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again. You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably. One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.”

That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.

The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You’re engaged,” he croaks.

“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely. You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.

Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles. It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child. It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.

“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.

But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully. Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning. Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean. It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.

Night Four

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.

“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound. You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue. His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.

“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”

“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me. I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”

“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.

“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.

“I’m sorry for that. I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.

“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve. Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.

“I see you had quite a few visitors today.”

Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”

“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him). “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”

There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.

“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”

You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument. “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer. It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters. You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.

“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”

You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl.

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it. She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”

You blink at him. He seems completely unbothered.

“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me. Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian. You’ve probably been dating a while.”

“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”

“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.

“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else. Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”

You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.

“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”

“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him.

Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind. Only ever thought about myself, my career.”

“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”

You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”

“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”

“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable.

Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”

You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”

“Nice. That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”

“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.

“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”

“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.

“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.

Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.”

“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”

“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold. I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.

“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”

Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?”

“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”

Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies. You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.

“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).

“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron. When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man. He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.

“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles.

You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face. The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful. Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable. And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore. In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.

“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”

Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen. He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight. You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname. And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.

Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.

Night Five

Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room. But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.

The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you. At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes.

“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily.

You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”

“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”

You stride over, running your hands over them. Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars. They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.

“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”

Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”

“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart. I want the details.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.

“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.

“I started working the night shift,” you echo. “I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”

“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.

“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure. That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.

“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”

“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.

“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”

“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have. You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”

“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”

“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”

“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”

“I didn’t know that. So I packed my things and left.”

The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back. After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted. Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love. He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley. Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.

“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.

“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror. A damn good one. The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.

“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others. I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.

“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”

“I was talking to Clopton about you. We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks.

“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement. A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it. But it feels right rolling off your tongue.

“Everett said something about you being engaged. It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight. And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.

“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.

“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay. That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly. “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him.

“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t. And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.

“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him. From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.

Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger. And that’s good–it’s good for us now. It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.

“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”

“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy. I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”

You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man. That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you. But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.

“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly. You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”

“You ran away.” You remind him.

“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love. You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”

“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest. I’ll leave you be.”

He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together. The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy. Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.

“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”

Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat. Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.

It would be insane.

You haven’t talked in five years.

He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.

He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.

Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration. At least he was when you were younger. Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even. The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.

Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.

Don’t marry him.

The words replay in your mind. It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years. That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.

It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.

Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.

Night Six

It has been a long, long day.

What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened. That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself.

You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.

You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room. You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion. Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.

When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual. Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.

This is it. This is the start of the rest of your life.

You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed. It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.

“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.

They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”

You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”

“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”

“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red. You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”

They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”

You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan. There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives. The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.

Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.

Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings. You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.

The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs. Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included. Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group.

“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head.

“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”

“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin. He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”

“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.

“Sallow, of course.” Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”

“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.

“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”

You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon. For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door. Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub. Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.

Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers. You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one. Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker. It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.

It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.

“You’re here,” she breathes.

“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”

You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room. He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).

Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night. He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”

“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”

“Shut up.”

Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”

You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life.

“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.

“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him. I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life. He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”

You have been too, you think.

“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.

“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs. The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk. Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.

Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face. He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.

“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”

You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.” You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin. The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine. You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.

“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.

“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”

“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done. That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.

“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”

“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”

“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”

“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.

“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.

“Let’s try again.” you whisper.

Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you. You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place.

“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips. It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years. You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer. His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.

“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

You have, you think. So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving. You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body. He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest. Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past. But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.

The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week. And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #Auror Sebastian #Auror Sebastian Sallow #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #writing-intheundercroft #this one got a little out of hand #should I write a smutty part two?????

785 notes · View notes

writing-intheundercroft · 1 year ago

Text

Wreck My Plans - S. Sallow

AO3 Link

Word Count: 8,734

Rating: E (Smut, Oral Sex, Fingering, Pregnancy, NSFW, MDNI)

Summary: You try to share some life-changing news with Sebastian, but it seems he has other plans. Specifically, recruiting you to join one of his missions.

A/N: Auror Seb is back! I've been writing this one in the background for a while. Who was going to warn me that writing action sequences was hard??? Next one for auror Seb is a prologue to the series :)

“You’re sure?” You ask, swallowing thickly as you process the information your fellow healer has just told you.

“Very.” She smiles broadly. “By the looks of it, ten weeks or so. You never noticed any of the symptoms until now?”

Your hand flies down to pet your stomach, and the tiny bump that now seems obvious. How could you have not known?

“I figured I was just hungrier,” you admit. “Tired from the transition to the day shift, adjusting back to the time zone after traveling.”

“Yes, well no more international travel for you.” the healer advises. “Not until the baby is born. I daresay, you might not be traveling for quite some time, especially with a young babe in hand. How’s that house in Marunweem coming along?”

You’ve been bragging about your fixer upper for months now; Sebastian has really made a dent in the work, adding another bedroom and fixing up a porch on the backside of the house. During the week, Sebastian is poised and collected, proving time and time again to his superiors just why he deserved the promotion to senior auror. On the weekends, he has his sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned as he hammers away at the wooden planks.

More often than not, you’re ripping his shirt off for him, or situated below him on your knees. He works so incredibly hard for the two of you and the life he wants to give you; it's hard to keep your hands to yourself.

You start piecing together the timeline, what you’d been doing all this time; when you remember where you were at, you blush at the thought. Ten weeks ago, you and Sebastian were in Sicily, enjoying your first real holiday as a couple. He spared no expense, renting a palazzo from an Italian wizard he’d met through a contact in the department of international magic affairs. You’d spent three glorious weeks by the sea, eating fresh seafood and exploring every inch of Sebastian’s body at night.

“Sebastian!” You swatted at him.

He grinned at you, his fingers plunged inside of you. It was positively deranged the way he began fucking you with his hand, the seed he’d just spilt inside of you pushed further in.

“What?” he asked nonchalantly. “You did agree to have my baby a few months ago, if I recall correctly…”

Sebastian’s swollen lips descended upon yours, hungrily kissing you. To your surprise, his thick length started to swell again, clearly aroused by your whimpering and the wet sound of his spend being manipulated, pushed even closer to its goal.

“You’re incorrigible,” You laugh against his lips as he situated himself between your legs again. The room was dimly lit, only deeply burnt candles illuminating the room you’d called home for the past few days.

“What can I say?” Sebastian whispered, teeth grazing your chin. “I’m insatiable for my fiancee.”

You took in a sharp breath when you felt the blunt head of his cock pressed against your heat again. “That’s the third time tonight,” you gasped as he slid into you with ease. Your body knew who it belonged to–Sebastian was no intrusion. Your head tilted back against the pillows, moaning as Sebastian laved his tongue up and down your sweaty throat.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian grunted, slowly rolling his hips against you. “Three–fucking–weeks–ungh, all I want to do is have you in bed, naked, for three whole weeks uninterrupted.”

You clutch onto him, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you flutter around him again.

“Ma’am, are you listening?”

You blink out of your daydream, looking back up at your healer.

“What did you ask?”

“I asked if you’ve been doing any strenuous activity lately.” The healer asks.

You turn bright red, brushing the back of your neck with your hand. You’ve been bedding Sebastian nearly every night, at least when the two of you aren’t exhausted from work or feeling ill. Neither of you ever minded to track your courses, considering they’d been tricky after years of an off-kilter schedule at St. Mungo's.

“I’ll take it easy,” you assure the healer, who doesn’t seem all that convinced. She lets you off with a blood renewing potion and some vitamins, and you leave St. Mungo's in a daze.

Your first instinct is to run straight to the ministry, barreling into Sebastian’s office with the news. But on second thought, it’s probably news best saved for home–you’d rather not have the most important news of your life shared in front of his colleagues. Instead, you make your way to Diagon Alley to pick up supplies for dinner, stopping by the owl post office to send a note to Poppy. You haven’t heard from her in a little while, but you know she’ll be over the moon when she reads the news.

All is well in your life, you think. You’ll have to move the wedding up–Ominis and Anne have been insistent you wait until the next spring, once the frost has thawed and you can have a May wedding. You’d really rather not host your newborn at your wedding, so late autumn will have to do. Perhaps you can sneak away to Feldcroft for the weekend with a few friends in tow, take an unbreakable vow in the center of the hamlet–

“I’m home,” You hear a voice call out.

Dropping the ladle, you wipe your hands on your skirts as you rush to greet Sebastian at the fireplace. Skidding into the living room, your smile falters when you see the gruff expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Sebastian shakes his head, hanging his coat on the rack next to the fireplace. “Long day,” he mumbles, sliding past you to go straight into the bedroom. You feel a bit deflated–Sebastian is rarely one to avoid your touch, but tonight is different. You hear the bathroom door slam, the faucets turning as he fills the bath. From what you can remember, Sebastian is only ever this grizzly after a bad day at work. Either bad news on a case, a perpetrator that’s gotten away, or the most dire, losing a colleague.

You tiptoe up to the bathroom, rapping your knuckles against the wooden door.

“Come in,” Sebastian sighs.

You slip past the door, kneeling next to the clawfoot tub. Sebastian is submerged in steaming water, bubbles dissipating in the water. Work has been particularly stressful–he’s gone a few days without shaving, dark stubble coating his chin.

“What’s wrong?” you ask gently.

Sebastian lolls his head back against the edge of the tub, staring at the ceiling. “We’ve got a real pain of a case on our hands.” he mutters, tilting his head to look at you. It’s an unspoken question, one that doesn’t need asking–he should know by now that nothing he ever shares about his cases ever leaves the four walls of your home.

“International dragon breeding ring.” He states, the water splashing as he pulls up his knees under the water. “Seems like they were trying to raise some Hebridean Blacks in the highlands. Clearly didn’t know how to handle their dragons, so the crew was burnt to a crisp by the time we got there.”

“That’s horrible,” you shake your head.

Sebastian wrinkles his nose. “I never, ever want to see bodies like that ever again.” he gags. “The worst part is now that they’re all toast, we’ve lost our only lead to the larger gang.”

“I’m sorry.” you pout, stroking his hair.

Sebastian sighs. “It’s okay. I’m just quite tired for the day; I had a sausage roll on my way home from the office, I think I’ll just tuck in to bed early tonight.”

He notices you visibly shrink, knitting his thick eyebrows together. “What’s wrong, pet?”

“I made dinner.” you say sheepishly. “Your favorite.”

Sebastian gives you a wry look. “I’m sorry, love. Rain check? I really do just want to get in bed.”

Sebastian can’t see the way your hand hovers over your abdomen under the lip of the tub. And while you’re desperate to share the news, you’d rather do so when he’s in a better mood. The last thing you want is the happy memory of your pregnancy announcement being marred by troubles at work.

“It’s fine, really.” you assure him. “I’ll pack it all up so you can take it to lunch tomorrow, bring a bit for the boys.”

Sebastian snorts, beads of water dripping from his arms as he lifts them out of the water. “I’m sure Everett and Andrew will love that. Those two rarely ever see a home cooked meal.”

“I’m not sure what those boys would do without me.” you say sarcastically. “Ominis was right–I have to stop feeding them so often; they’re coming back week by week like stray cats.”

“Oh please, you love babying the two of them.” Sebastian rolls his eyes.

The word has your smile faltering, and Sebastian tilts his head, giving you a sympathetic look.

“It will happen, you know.” he puts a hand under your chin, tilting it up towards you. “I know it’s upsetting that it’s taken this long, but it’ll all work out in time.”

“Oh, that’s not–”

“Perhaps we should wait until after the wedding,�� Sebastian suggests. “I mean, that’s surely the more proper thing to do. Plan it out, do it the right order.”

You turn bright red, swallowing thickly; Sebastian really has no clue. “We’ve never been proper, the two of us.”

Sebastian lets out a low chuckle, eyes darting down to your lips. “No, I don’t think we have.” The pad of his thumb traces over your lips, slipping between them.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian breathes. “I finish washing up, and I meet you in the bedroom for a cuddle.”

“Something tells me we’re not going to be cuddling.” You raise an eyebrow, eyes darting down to Sebastian’s free hand, which has slipped underneath the water and between his legs.

“No, we’re not.” Sebastian says, voice low and needy. Your eyes flit down to the surface of the water, rippling with every stroke of his hand. “Get in the bed, now.”

You smile, biting down on your lip as you do what he says. After all, it won’t be long before two becomes three, so you want to relish these nights for as long as you can.

You wake up when Sebastian presses his lips against yours. He’s never been very good at kissing softly–almost always, your fiance kisses you with enough fervor to wake you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, nosing your cheek. “I wanted to kiss you before I left. Got a message that I need to be in the office earlier than usual–all hands on deck.”

You open your eyes, blinking up at him. He’s fully dressed in his suit, auror badge pinned to his coat pocket. His work bag is at his feet, last night’s carefully wrapped leftovers next to it. From the window behind him, you can see the sky is still black, a smattering of stars filling the sky. It has to be four, maybe five o’clock in the morning.

“Send Everett and Andrew my love,” you yawn. “Tell them to enjoy the short rib.”

Sebastian snorts, mouth descending upon yours once more. “I’m starting to think you like them more than me,” he teases, nipping your lower lip with his teeth. “Have a good shift today. I’ll see you at home tonight.”

You don’t follow Sebastian to the fireplace, instead electing to fall back into your bed for a few more hours of sleep before your shift at St. Mungo's. You’ll tell him tonight, you think, putting together the plan while you dress for the day. Perhaps roast chicken and potatoes for dinner, and a cake with the good news on it. You’re buzzing, eager to execute your plan once you’ve gotten home. So much so, you completely miss the owl sitting in the window, clucking at you while you hum over your cooking.

It’s only when the owl threatens to bite you that you pick up the note, deflating the minute you see the DMLE logo.

Urgent case. All hands on deck–we’ve been ordered to stay in the office until further notice; might be traveling internationally too. I’ll send an owl when I know more.

xx Sebastian

You shrug off your worries; this isn’t exactly unexpected. Given the high risk of Sebastian’s job, he’s often sequestered to the office or traveling for a case, sometimes days at a time. Perhaps the waiting will make your reveal all the more special. You can picture Sebastian falling to the ground in front of the fireplace once you tell him after much time away from home.

After two days, you’re worried. Come five, you’re irritated. Ten days later, you’re thoroughly mad that this case has wrecked your plans.

It takes nearly all your willpower not to break down the doors of the auror office. On the bright side, Sebastian knows well enough to reassure you of his good health via owl post. Per usual, he can’t say much, except that there had been a considerable development in their dragon breeding ring case. He’s been bunking up with Everett and Andrew in the office (the two bachelors also sending thank you cards for the feast you’d cooked) and he’s quite miserable without your company.

Sebastian’s owl post gives you some peace over the miserable days, especially considering the onset of your morning sickness. It seems that since your brain has accepted the concept of being pregnant, your body has decided to follow suit. You’re lucky that there are plenty of other mothers working at St. Mungo’s beside you, each of them offering a sympathetic smile or a packet of crackers once you've emerged from the bathroom.

You’re just returning from a trip to the porcelain throne, wiping the corner of your mouth, only to hear your name once you pass the ward matron desk.

“Oi, ministry man is looking for you,” one of your fellow healers says, jerking their thumb back towards the ward matron’s desk.

You whip your head around to see a sharply dressed man standing at the desk, seemingly annoying your ward matron. He’s older and gray; there’s something familiar about his face.

It clicks–he’s Sebastian’s superior officer.

The blood drains from your face as you walk towards him, hands clenched in fists. “Can I help you?”

He says your name, bowing his head slightly. “Augustus Green, we’ve met before. You’re Sallow’s fiancee, aren’t you?”

“Is he alright?” you ask, panicking. You instinctively press a hand to your stomach.

“Oh goodness, I should’ve started with that,” he admits sheepishly. “Sallow is fine, no cause for alarm. I’m here to summon you for an appearance at the office.”

“Summon? Me?” you gape up at him.

“All the information is here,” Green says impatiently, handing you a manilla folder. “And a letter for your matron to excuse you from your duties.”

It’s all a blur from there, the ward matron clicking her tongue disapprovingly when you hand over the letter. With that task out of the way, Officer Green starts herding you to the closest floo flame. It feels as if he’s got you by the back of your robe, pulling you into the green fire. You grip the manilla folder tighter, swallowing down the vomit in your throat. Floo travel is safe while pregnant, but certainly not comfortable.

When your eyes open, you’re standing in an unfamiliar office. You know where you are though–the ministry, the DMLE office specifically. The furnishings match Sebastian’s office, except this one is clearly larger. There’s a woman organizing files in the corner, quickly standing to greet Officer Green on his return.

“Marlene, put a kettle on, why don’t you?” Green huffs, walking over to his chair. “And summon the task force team. Meeting in my office.”

You cross your arms over your chest–it’s Marlene of all people, one of Sebastian’s former flings. She gives you a phony smile, eyes flitting down to the diamond ring on your left hand.

Well, you suppose the crestfallen look on her face makes the trip to the ministry worthwhile.

As Marlene passes through the doorway, a group of aurors makes their way inside. A few unfamiliar faces, but then three of your favorites–Andrew Larson, Everett Clopton, and Sebastian. Sebastian is giving you a proud grin, chest puffed out. You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks, and his once sparse beard is now growing thick. It takes all of your self control to not throw yourself into his arms, relieved to see that your fiance is still well after being away for so long.

The aurors line up against the wall, awaiting instructions.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve asked you here,” Green states, folding his hands on his desk. “We’re assembling a task force team to work on a sensitive case. We normally wouldn’t operate on foreign soil, but considering the abductee is a British citizen–”

“Pardon, abductee?” You interrupt.

“Yes, details will be in your briefing.” Officer Green states, pointing down to the folder in your hands. “Our officers have spent the last few months tracking the smaller units of an international dragon breeding ring. They’ve gotten sloppy since we’ve started apprehending their top breeders, and have since retreated to their home base in Norway. A British citizen has been abducted by the ring leaders of the operation, likely due to her expansive knowledge on Norwegian Ridgebacks. Miss Sweeting is a well known magizoologist–”

Your throat goes dry, and for the first time in days, your stomach is churning from anxiety, not from morning sickness.

“Miss Sweeting was abducted from her home–sign of forced entry, her wand and personal effects were found littered throughout the property. Our auror department has uncovered evidence that leads us to believe the criminals are keeping her on hand with the dragons to provide guidance in their breeding efforts.”

Officer Green carries on. “The task force comprises several of our best aurors, some of which were classmates of Miss Sweeting and have a personal interest in her safety. You were recommended to join the task force by Officer Sallow,” Green continues. “Considering your relationship to Miss Sweeting, and experience with dragons in the past.”

You blink at the senior officer, mouth agape. “But I’m only a healer, sir.”

“A healer will be extraordinarily important for a mission like this,” Green points out. “With the imminent danger–”

“You saved half the department once,” Andrew Larson blurts. “Rather have you on our team if we’re facing dragons and dark wizards in one go.”

The room dissolves into nervous giggles as Green swats at Andrew. Sebastian, however, is completely unphased, smiling at you as if he’s signed you up for a field trip, not a mission across international lines to save one of your best friends. If Poppy wasn’t the one in danger, you probably would’ve wrung his neck by now.

“As I was saying before Mr. Larson so rudely interrupted,” Green rolled his eyes. “We need a healer on the task force. We will pay you for any days missed at your regular shift, and a bonus upon return. That, and all accommodations in Norway–”

“I’m sorry, Norway?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes, where we believe the perpetrators are keeping Miss Sweeting to assist in the breeding of their dragons.” Green interjects, tapping the briefing folder again. “We have a portkey scheduled to depart in an hour. Please review your folder beforehand.”

You hardly listen to the rest of the briefing. The rational side of your brain is screaming at you to tell the truth–you’re pregnant, the healers just said to limit international travel, and you hardly think you should be jumping into battle with a dragon breeding ring in your condition. Is portkey travel even safe during pregnancy?

Your thoughts scream at you as Green dismisses the room; before your brain even registers movement, your feet are scuffling towards Sebastian’s office. He’s standing at his desk, two large duffle bags side by side. You shut the door with trembling hands.

“I took the liberty of purchasing some things you’ll need,” he says cheerfully, digging through the bag. You hold out your arms as he pushes a pair of trousers and a shirt into them. “Some wool stockings and your base layers, it’ll be cold, that’s for sure…” he trails off.

“Sebastian,” you swallow thickly. “Sebastian, I–”

“I’m sorry if this is coming across as a surprise.” Sebastian shucks off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt. “That, and for being gone for so long. It was all hands on deck with the case; I’ve been bunking up in here with Larson and Clopton. You have no idea how badly I want to be home.” he groans, slipping a new undershirt on.

Your brain is frazzled. You want to be angry at him, to be worried, but your heart is thumping in your chest. It’s been too long since you’ve seen him, and you’ve been worried sick. Your body’s first instinct is to wrap your arms around him and inhale his familiar scent.

Sebastian laughs when you do so, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know, Pet. As soon as this is done and dusted and we’ve got Poppy home, things can go back to normal.” he murmurs against your hair.

You nuzzle your face deeper into his chest, inhaling his cedar cologne. “Are you sure this is safe? I'm not in dueling shape.” you admit sheepishly. In your youth, you would’ve charged into combat headfirst without warning–years of working in St. Mungo's has you untrained.

Sebastian laughs, his beard tickling your face. “Safe? You’re the best duelist I know–besides myself, of course. You’ll be fine. Besides, we mostly need you for healing purposes. That magic of yours works a trick on burns. Remember–”

“In the Undercroft, when you accidentally blew up a barrel of mead.” you snort at the memory. It hadn’t been funny then, watching Sebastian writhe on the floor from the burns. You’d fallen at his side, instinctively using your ancient magic to siphon the pain. He was healed in a matter of seconds, and it set you on the trajectory to become a healer.

“Precisely.” Sebastian licks his lips. “That, and to be with Poppy. I’m sorry, I wish I could have told you sooner, but we weren’t allowed to say.” He pulls a wand from his desk–Poppy’s wand, white ash wood with a swirling handle–and presses it into your hands. “You should hold on to it, for safekeeping. You can give it to her once we rescue her.”

You look up at his chocolate brown eyes, lids dotted with freckles. You want to tell him–you need to tell him–

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian pouts. “You’ve always said you wanted to come to work with me.”

You open your mouth, trying to find the words, but you can’t. You’ll be fine, you think. What’s one more trip? Besides, you’ll do anything to ensure Poppy is safe.

“I don’t like your beard.” you blurt.

Sebastian roars with laughter, rubbing his jawline. “I knew you’d hate it; Clopton and Larson were egging me on to grow it out. I don't have a razor here; I promise I’ll shave it when I get home. Now, come on, let’s get you dressed all warm and snug. We've got a portkey to catch.”

“I’m sorry–I thought I had your size memorized.” Sebastian mutters, helping you unlace your corset.

You wince, a low hiss coming out from your lips as you let the offending garment fall to the ground. Assessing your torso in the blurred mirror, you can see lines from the whalebone pins left in your skin. Your hand instinctively rubs over your stomach silently apologizing to the babe inside of you for being squished all afternoon.

“The portkey couldn’t just drop us off here, at the inn?” You complain, slipping one of Sebastian’s clean shirts over your head.

“We couldn’t draw attention to ourselves, you know that,” Sebastian tuts. “Besides, I thought you enjoyed hiking?”

“I enjoy hiking when it's planned.” you groan, falling back against the bed. “Almost thought I’d ask Andrew to cart me up the mountain.”

Sebastian starts unlacing your boots, letting the heavy shoes fall to the floor. Your woolen stockings are peeled off next, laid out next to the fireplace to stay warm. He carefully unlaces and works your trousers off your legs, draping them over a stool.

“I am sorry.” Sebastian says, climbing into bed next to you. Your muscles are sore, legs like jelly after the long trek. Knowing this, he pulls your legs into his lap, working his thumbs into your calves to massage them. “I thought it might be fun.”

You snort. “Fun? Sebastian, we’re on a mission to find Poppy, who's been taken hostage by dragon dealers. That hardly sounds like fun.” Your head falls back against the pillows, which have definitely seen better days.

“I know, but they were looking for a healer to join the force, and I knew you were the right person.” Sebastian reminds you, nimble fingers moving down to massage your sore feet. “Besides, it’s kind of fun to work together, isn’t it? Reminds me of the good old days.”

“Ah, yes, the good old days.” you parrot back to him. “Us, running like vigilantes around the highlands. Stealing bounty from old chests, blasting away at acromantulas.”

“What can I say? We were spirited teenagers.” Sebastian chuckles. His fingers slow, making deliberate circles in the arch of your foot. “I wanted us to have one more good adventure before we settled down, got married.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. “We won’t have adventures after we’re married? Thanks for the vote of confidence.” you jest.

“You know what I mean,” Sebastian shrugs. “After we’re married and we’ve got kids in the house, we’ll be boring old parents.” he wrinkles his nose. “Might as well bank up a few good stories for the children while we still can.”

Your smile falters. “Do you really think we’ll be that boring?”

“We’ll have to be, won’t we?” Sebastian sighs. “I’ll probably take some time off after the baby is born, of course. And when I’m back to work, I’ll ask to be reassigned to low risk cases. So, in the meantime, I’ll enjoy all the tough stuff while I still can.”

You should tell him. You really do need to tell him.

You don’t.

He sounds so glum, trading in a life of adventure and danger for nappies and lullabies. Perhaps his interest in fatherhood was just spurred by the renewal of your relationship. It makes sense that he’d start thinking more clearly now that it’s been nearly a year together. Merlin, maybe he’s already bored of the little life you’ve created together–the house on a hill, far from the bustling city. The logical side of your brain reminds you that Sebastian loves you, dotes on you, hand and foot (quite literally, the man is still massaging your feet). Yet the irrational side of your brain, likely flooded with pent-up hormonal energy, reminds you that he hasn’t been home in days .

“You still love me, right?” Gods, the words sound pathetic coming out of your mouth.

“Of course I do.” Sebastian’s eyes widen. “How could you think otherwise?”

“It’s nothing.” you say quickly, waving him off. “Just a stupid intrusive thought.”

Sebastian clicks his tongue, pushing your legs from his lap. You stay, perched on your elbows, watching him move in between your legs. With a mischievous smile, Sebastian picks up your foot, pressing a kiss to your ankle.

“Then it seems I’ll have to work extra hard to put those thoughts to bed,” Sebastian whispers lowly. His tongue laves circles up your calf, eyes trained on you while his mouth moves up, up, up your thigh.

“You colleagues are in the other room.” You croak.

“We have magic, don’t we?” Sebastian teases. “ Silencio should do the trick, unless I’ve made you forget basic spellcasting.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to hide the laugh bubbling in your throat.

It’s against your better judgment, but you reach over to the side table to grab your wand. Flicking it at the door, you mutter the silencing charm under your breath. The room suddenly feels like a bubble, no noise from the outside world permitted in, and vice versa.

“We can’t go crazy,” you whimper as Sebastian takes a deliberate lick, pressing a kiss to your center. A moan slips from your mouth, head crashing against the flat pillows. “We have to wake up– oh, yes, right there –ugh, Sebastian, we have to wake up early.”

Sebastian grins, teeth grazing your skin lightly as he presses a languid kiss to the crease of your thigh. “I won’t keep you awake too long.” he promises, before diving back between your legs.

Sebastian knows you–almost a little too well, you think. Somehow he knows the sex you need is tender and soft, his hips rocking into yours while he whispers how much he missed you, how he longs to come home to your bed. His hand ghosts over your abdomen, but you quickly pull it up to your lips, pressing soft kisses to his worn knuckles. When he comes, face buried in your neck, he can't stop telling you how much he loves you. It isn't long before Sebastian drifts to sleep, lightly snoring against your skin with his arms wrapped around you. His beard tickles your shoulders, but you’ve missed him too much to push him away.

You flick your wrist at the candles, quickly extinguishing the fire. With only pale moonlight streaming in through threadbare curtains, you pull the blankets up to your neck, focusing on Sebastian’s steady breathing.

Steady. Unwavering (except the time that you broke up…well, he’s more than made up for that by now). Dependable, devoted. Sebastian is going to make the most amazing father. You shut your drooping eyelids, reassuring yourself that Sebastian will be excited when you finally get to share your news.

“I'm freezing.” you spit out, shivering from the cold air.

“We’ve been waiting for hours,” Everett complains, recasting an anti-fogging spell on his glasses. “Larson should’ve made contact by now.”

“We have to stick to the plan,” Sebastian bites back. “Larson was to make contact with the dealers, send a signal leading to his location. If he didn’t by sundown, we’d abandon the post and go back to the inn.”

While Sebastian had kept you busy the night prior, Andrew had gone undercover. Your sweet Ravenclaw friend is unassuming, and quite the actor it seems–he reported at breakfast to say the breeders had given him coordinates to a meeting point, where he’d be given the opportunity to purchase a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon egg. Poking at his poached egg, Andrew assured the group that he’d send a patronus signal for back up once he’d identified the location of the operation.

Waiting for Andrew’s signal is excruciating, the better half of the day spent sitting around a now nearly burnt out campfire. You were pacing back and forth in the snow, drumming your fingers against your throat. While you’re sure Andrew can hold his own (he has for years now, Sebastian tells you–a surprisingly astute duellist, much improved from his days in Crossed Wands) you hate the idea of your cheerful blond friend being alone.

Sebastian stands up, brushing snow from his pants. “It’ll be dark soon,” he muses. “We should start heading down to the inn soon.”

Your eyes widen. “And leave Andrew?”

“Andrew is an auror, Pet.” Sebastian reminds you. “One of our best. He’ll be just fine getting down the mountain on his own.”

“If he needed back up, he would’ve called by now.” Everett tries to assure you, wiping his fogged up glasses again. “Gosh, I hope we’re only here another day or so–I fear my chomping cabbages are dead by now, I’ve been away from home for too long.”

“We can’t possibly leave him,” you gasp, stomping your foot in the snow. “I won’t allow it.”

Sebastian opens his mouth to argue with you, but clamps it shut when the sky darkens.

“Take cover!” he roars, grabbing you and tackling you to the snow. You gasp, curling into him as he rolls you behind a collection of boulders. In seconds, Everett has joined you. His mouth is hanging open, staring up at the massive dark spot soaring above you.

“Sweet mother of Merlin,” Everett gasps. “Is that–”

“A Norwegian Ridgeback,” Sebastian grunts, tucking you in tighter to his chest. “A young one, based on the size, but still dangerous.”

Peeking over Sebastian’s shoulder, you can see a young dragon soaring overhead. You can see the cracked collar, chains hanging from its neck. The poor beast is clawing at the collar, a high pitched squeal coming from its mouth as it flaps its wings. When its jaw opens, you can see the flames curling up from the back of its throat. Sebastian backs into you, an arm curling around your waist to keep you shielded from the heat.

“Protego!” you hear a familiar voice scream.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Sebastian spits out. He peeks around the boulder, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as his jaw falls open. You stand to sneak a peek, equally shocked at the sight before you.

Andrew is running, bloodied with gashes in his clothes. His blond hair is matted down and you’re not sure if it’s from blood or melted snow. Wand extended, Andrew casts a shield charm to protect himself from the fire and waves of green curses. His arm is looped through a short brunette’s, her wrists bound in goblin-forged silver cuffs. It’s Poppy, who is yelling at Andrew to avoid hurting the young dragon. Several breeders are chasing after them, firing curse after curse on Andrew’s heels.

“A little help here!” Andrew roars, waving his arm the second he spots his colleagues.

The aurors break into action with little hesitation. Sebastian and Everett waste no time sprinting towards their partner. It feels like you’ve barely had a second to blink before the flashes of red and green start clashing around you. Sebastian jumps to avoid a well-aimed shot, rolling to the ground before firing a countercurse at his attacker. His hair is covered in powdery snow, cheeks red from the cold as he fires off a defensive spell set. You watch him, mouth agape, barely registering his voice calling out your name.

“Get Poppy out of here!” Sebastian hollers. “Both of you, before the dragon circles back!”

Right, you think, shaking out of your stupor. You run, feet slowed by the snow, towards your friend. She grabs your hands as soon as you reach her, staring at you in a panic.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Poppy shrieks.

Over her shoulder, you can see one of the breeders teeing up a spell. With ease, you raise a boulder from behind him to knock him down the hill. In doing so, you’ve drawn attention to yourself, the other breeders realizing that you’re a bigger threat than anticipated.

“Here for you,” you assure her. “Come on, let’s go.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Poppy panics. “I got your letter, the morning they broke into my flat–”

“That’s the least important thing right now,” you screech, firing off a countercurse; the rebound is so strong, both of you are nearly knocked off your feet.

“But the baby!” Poppy shouts. “This isn’t safe!”

“Now is hardly the time to be scolding me,” you argue, panting as you channel your ancient magic to disintegrate one of your attackers. “The baby will be fine, I’m more worried about you!”

“What the bloody hell are you two talking about?”

Now you’ve really let the cat out of the bag, you think between spell combinations. You pause in place, braid whipping through the wind, to see Sebastian staring at you across the way. His eyes are as wide as saucers, blinking rapidly as his mouth opens and shuts.

“Congratulations, guys!” Everett yells sarcastically, glasses now fully fogged from the fighting. “Think we can discuss this another time?”

“You’re pregnant?” Sebastian shrieks.

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” you pant, dodging a curse, “but you’ve been gone, I only just found out the day before you left–”

“We have to get you out of here!” Sebastian panics, running towards you from across the field. “You’re pregnant! This is unsafe!”

“We don’t have time for this conversation!” You roar, casting confringo on the poachers drawing near.

“Careful with the heat, it’ll be bad for the baby!” Sebastian chides, but you roll your eyes.

“You got me into this mess, Sallow! Both messes, I might add.” You say through gritted teeth. It’s true–he’s the one who got you pregnant in the first place, and then volunteered you to join a covert mission. Honestly, you might find his rapid shift in attitude hilarious if you weren’t being rained down upon by flames and curses.

“We had sex, is that bad for the baby?” Sebastian asks. “For him? Or her? Oh Merlin, what if it’s a girl–”

“I’m sorry,” Everett raises a brow, sidestepping a diffindo that had been thrown his way. “The two of you were shagging last night when we were supposed to be preparing for a mission?”

“You two are disgusting!” Andrew spits, casting stupefy on his assailant.

“Can someone please figure out a way to get me out of these cuffs?” Poppy roars, shaking her still shackled wrists. “And does anyone have my wand by any chance?”

You curse under your breath, wiggling Poppy’s wand out of your too-tight breeches. She grasps her wand with both hands, wincing as you channel your ancient magic into snapping the metal. Her wrists are rubbed raw from spending weeks in chains, but she shakes them out as she reacquaints herself with her wand.

The sky goes dark again; the dragon circles in the air, flapping wings causing the entire battle to cease while everyone braces in the snow.

“You need to get out of here,” Sebastian hisses. “I’m begging you–”

“And leave you here, with this lot and the dragon? Absolutely not.” you snap. “The father of my child needs to see another day.”

“Hello!” Everett screams. “There’s still a fight going on here, if the two of you haven’t– ouch !”

Both of you turn your heads to see Everett laying in the snow, groaning. One of the breeders is stomping towards him, twirling his wand in hand. Nostrils flared, you push Sebastian aside and aim your wand. With barely even a flick, the man is thrown back against the snow, a disconcerting crack ringing through the air.

Not your boys , you think. You plan to see all of these aurors back to London, alive and without injury.

“Poppy,” you yell, firing basic casts at the approaching breeders. “Can you secure the dragon?”

“Working on it!” Poppy’s voice is muffled, her wand between her teeth. You can see her, your little firecracker of a friend, trying to scale the rocks to get closer to the dragon. As the country’s leading expert on dragons, you hope she’ll have the dragon under control before long. She’s babbling towards the beast, cooing reassuring words as it snorts steam.

“Bertie, calm down.” You hear Poppy cluck at the dragon, her hands held high. “It’ll be alright–”

Andrew, who has foregone his wand, punches one of the breeders squarely in the nose. Shaking his hand out, he turns back to Poppy. “Bertie? Bertie, who you were droning on about while I was trying to rescue you, is the damn dragon?” he yells. “The one who was trying to kill us just a bit earlier?”

“I was alone!” Poppy shrieks back. “You try being alone with just dragons for two weeks, you would start naming them too! And he was not trying to kill us, he’s just afraid–”

“Shut up!” Sebastian hollers. “Can you two behave?”

Sebastian is shouting at both Andrew and Poppy, and doesn’t see the breeder approaching from his left. His arm is raised, a knowing smirk on his phase as he brandishes his wand at your fiance. Sebastian is too preoccupied with scolding his subordinate to notice the flickering red tip of the breeder’s wand, teeing up what you can only imagine is the cruciatus curse.

You don’t have time to shriek. Instead, you feel your anger bubbling up through your fingertips, the telltale signs of your ancient magic starting to spill from your hands. You’re running, wand arm raised, about to attack when you feel the wind knocked out of your lungs. Your body betrays you, losing balance as you crumple to the snow with no control. There’s a sharp ache in your head, ears ringing as you try to make sense of what’s going on. As if life is stuck in slow motion, you see a sizable boulder plop into the snow next to you.

A fucking rock. You’ll be damned if you let a rock take you out.

Trying to stand, your knees buckle beneath you. The sharp ache in your head starts pounding, and you can’t stop blinking your bleary eyes. Fingers grazing your temple, you’re shocked at the slippery sensation on your fingertips. Droplets of bright red dot the pristine white snow, and despite your fuzzy vision, you can tell that it's your own blood on your hands.

“Oh, shit.” you slur.

It feels like you’re underwater (a sensation you know well from the Keeper’s trials during your fifth year). Things are slower, soupier almost. You can see Sebastian’s head turn when another auror shouts at him, and he narrowly misses a flurry of red bolts aimed at him from one of the attackers. Skidding in the snow, Sebastian fires a counter curse that knocks the breeder off the edge of the cliff.

Someone is shouting your name, and Sebastian turns his head. You think you’ll remember the look of horror on his face forever, a twisted grimace as he dashes towards you. You want to sit up, but your body says otherwise–your head is pounding, and perhaps it’ll feel better if you sleep. Sebastian is patting your cheeks with cold hands, repeating your name like a prayer as you hear the commotion ensue behind the two of you.

“Stay with me,” Sebastian pleads. “I’m sorry–”

You don’t hear anything after that.

When you open your eyes, you’re in St. Mungo’s. Specifically, the intensive care unit, your own ward.

“What the hell?” you mumble, leaning up on your elbows.

“Oh thank Merlin, you’re awake.” Sebastian sighs with relief. You turn to look at the brunette next to you–his head is in his hands, dark waves unkempt and tangled from sleep. His beard is the longest you’ve ever seen it, shaggy and uncombed. After taking in a deep breath, he launches himself to your bed, fingers pressed against your pulse. Once he’s determined that you are in fact well, he presses a firm kiss to your forehead.

“Is the–”

“The baby is alright,” Sebastian smiles. “Healers have been checking on you two probably twice an hour for the last two days.”

“Two days?” you gape. “I’ve been out for two days?”

“It was a nasty hit.” Sebastian shudders. “I was so worried about you, I haven’t been able to sleep,” he admits. The chair next to you has become his little nest; bundles of blankets are tossed on the floor, a hospital grade pillow squished into the back of the chair.

“What happened?” you wince as you sit up. Sebastian immediately places more pillows behind your back, handing you a cup of water from the night stand. “Is everyone alright?”

“Everyone is alright,” Sebastian assures you. “Everett broke his arm, but that was quick to mend. Andrew looked like a champion prizefighter, that’s for sure. I think he likes the black eye, he thinks it makes him a bit more popular amongst the ladies at the pub.”

“And Poppy?” You ask between gulps. Merlin, you really must have been out for two days–you’re positively parched. Before you can set the cup down, Sebastian casts aguamenti and you’re happily sipping once more.

“Safe and healthy.” Sebastian promises. “Let’s just say Bertie the dragon really bonded with Poppy while they were imprisoned together. He made quick work of the breeders.”

You blink at your fiance, brows furrowed as you try to make sense of his comment. When he bares his teeth and clicks his jaw open and shut, you cover your mouth with your hands.

“He ate them?” you gape.

“Well, it was us or the breeders.” Sebastian scoffs. “Better them than me.”

“I suppose that’s why the dragon was chasing after Andrew,” you muse. “He thought Andrew was trying to kidnap Poppy, not save her.”

“Spot on.” Sebastian laughs. “Speaking of, there are some people who’d like to see you.”

The door opens, and your friends spill through the door as if they’ve been waiting right outside the entire time. The normally stoic Anne runs to you, clutching your forearm. Ominis stands over her, pressing a long kiss to the top of your head.

“I can’t believe the two of you.” Ominis shakes his head. “Battling a dragon in the first trimester.”

Sebastian furrows his brow. “Hey–I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known.”

“And I would’ve gone regardless.” You declare, pulling Sebastian’s hand into your own.

Andrew, Everett, and Poppy file into the room after your sister and brother-in-law. Everett has his arm in a sling, while Andrew still looks like hell. Poppy has a few bandages on her hands, but she easily slides down at your side next to Anne. The brunette girl gives you a teary eyed smile, mouthing her thanks.

“First mission and you get taken out by a damn boulder.” Andrew laughs. His knuckles are bruised and cut, black eye starting to go green around the edges. “I thought you’d be an asset to the team, but you ended up a liability.”

“Oh shush,” you wave him off, pressing your hand to the soft edge of your belly. “You needed me.”

“That we did,” Everett says softly, squeezing your hand. “Thank you. I would’ve been clobbered off the cliff if it weren’t for you.”

“I can’t believe you volunteered to come along pregnant.” Andrew blurts. “Are you insane?”

“It was for Poppy.” You admit, winking at your favorite magizoologist. “I’d do anything for her.”

“Well, I must demand that you start relaxing.” Poppy declares. “You shouldn’t lift a finger for the rest of your pregnancy. If Sallow volunteers you for any missions, Bertie will take his head–you have my word.”

“Rest assured she won’t be doing anything but relaxing from now on.” Sebastian says firmly, crossing his arms. “I’ve already had a discussion with the ward matron about your leave of absence–”

You hold your hand up. “Sebastian, I’m not going to stop working. You know that.”

“You’re going to take a few weeks off to rest,” Sebastian continues. “Trust me, the matron told me they’ve had enough of your puking.”

You lick your lips, eyes roving the room as you take in the scene. It’s all of your favorite people in one room, the people your child will know best. You imagine your child growing up with them–visits from Aunt Poppy and her wild beasts, dinners with Andrew and Everett. You swallow thickly imagining Anne and Ominis doting over your newborn, and tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Are you tired?” Sebastian’s voice brings you back down to ear, his gentle murmur in your ear.

You nod, squeezing his hand.

“We’ll all be off, then.” Ominis announces. “Anne and I will get started on planning your elopement.”

You wipe at your eyes, which are now properly tearing up. “You don’t need to plan our wedding.” You let out a watery laugh.

“You’ll have the best wedding.” Anne assures you. “Certainly better than ours; I still remember Sebastian’s dates fighting on the dance floor–”

“I think that’s a story for another time,” Sebastian interjects hastily. “My wife is tired, she should get some rest.”

The motley crew files out of your hospital room, each promising to follow up with you in the days to come. Ominis has to practically tear Anne away from you, your sister-in-law spouting questions about wedding cakes while her husband pushes her out the door. He winks an unseeing eye at the two of you, his best friends, before the door clicks shut.

Immediately, Sebastian is climbing into your bed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“We’re having a baby.” Sebastian says softly, his large palm flattening over your belly. “You’re having our baby.”

“We’re having a baby.” You echo, turning to him in the bed. The hospital beds at St. Mungo’s aren’t big by any means, and Sebastian will have a backache if he sleeps with you–but it doesn’t look like he’s planning on going anywhere.

Sebastian’s eyes are trained on you, hungrily taking in every detail of your face. “I can’t wait,” he garbles out, eyes watery. “You’re giving me a family. Gods, I’ll never be able to make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?” You ask gently, pressing a palm to his cheek. Tears start streaming down his face, sniffling his freckled nose.

“For everything . Dragging you into a mission with a fucking dragon,” Sebastian laughs. “For tackling you on the mountain. Being gone for nearly two weeks, not giving you the opportunity to tell me. For wasting so much time–for not making you my wife earlier. Merlin, if I hadn’t been such a bonehead five, six years ago, things could’ve been so different–”

You press a fingertip to his lips. “I won’t have them any other way,” you whisper. “I’m so happy. You’re happy, aren’t you? You’re not upset?”

Sebastian laughs harder, shaking his head. “I couldn’t be happier. I’m going to be a father.” he says gleefully. “How could I possibly be upset?”

You chew on your lower lip. “The night I meant to tell you, you said something about us waiting until after the wedding. And at the inn, you seemed so worried that we’d be boring once we had a baby. Rather thought I was ruining your plans for us.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “I can't believe I ruined the surprise. Darling, I was being an absolute cad that night; I can't believe I didn't see it coming. You'd made my favorite dinner, and I turned it down for a sausage roll.” he says dramatically, shaking his head. “And I’m sorry about what I said at the inn. Pet, you and I could never be boring. Not while we’re together.”

“And you’ll be okay getting married earlier?” you ask nonchalantly, drawing circles on his chest. “Even if it wrecks our plans for a spring wedding?”

“I’ll marry you tomorrow if you let me.” Sebastian murmurs. “Fuck the plans. The only thing that matters to me is our family.”

You pull Sebastian into a hug, face nuzzling into his beard. He’s whispering into your ear–promising to shave his beard, to finish the flooring in the second bedroom as soon as he’s back home. He’ll take a few weeks off now that this case is over, and perhaps he’ll apply for low-risk cases now that he’s a father. He talks about your wedding, about how you can still get married in the center of Feldcroft if he can conjure enough tents.

Your eyelids are drooping, head resting against his chest when you think back to the topic of weddings.

“Earlier when Anne was talking about her and Ominis’s wedding–you had two dates?” you ask sleepily. “What was that about?”

Sebastian lets out a roar of a laugh, pressing his lips against your hair. “A story for another time. It’ll make you laugh, I promise.” he assures you. “I’ll tell you when you wake up.”

You nod, shutting your eyes. Tucked into Sebastian’s arms, you fall asleep against his chest.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #writing-intheundercroft #auror sebastian sallow #dad sebastian sallow #domestic sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #ngl I love andrew larson in this series #ominis and anne would plan great parties #poppy is a bamf per usual

326 notes · View notes