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[in-class-daydreams]

JUST BETWEEN US PT 2???

Haha, I've been trying! I've written a couple different drafts, I'm just a little stuck on where to start pt. 2. Do I pick up right after pt. 1? DO I skip ahead? We'll see.

[in-class-daydreams]

Geto loved Gojo to the point where his body was preconditioned to be inclined to protect him, but he didn't love him enough to choose differently when he reached a moral crossroads

[in-class-daydreams]

Just Between Us (Satoru Gojo x Reader)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Utahime!Reader Synopsis: You possess a coveted ability, the Blessed Womb, meaning your offspring will bear any and all cursed techniques in their father's bloodline. As such, you've lived a life isolated from society, to protect your rare capability. But what about you? Is that all you are? A womb? You refuse to be reduced to what your body can do. You and Satoru Gojo were born on the same cold day in December 1989. The Universe seems to have designed you to be twin flames, but by now you happen to resent the Universe making all your decisions for you. Set around the beginning of the school year of Gojo's second year of high school. Notes/TW: Toxic patriarchy & arranged marriage culture. Reader is sheltered to an abusive degree. Some mentions of blood. Gojo and reader argue a whole bunch and yes, that's a warning. Fem pronouns used and the reader has a uterus for plot reasons.

“The hell do you mean you kissed Geto?” you shout at Gojo.

You sat at your vanity, painstakingly plucking pins from the elaborate updo that the maids put your hair into. Your personal attendant, Miwako, would have a heart attack with how harsh you were being with her labor of love, but she had enough survival instincts to leave you and Gojo be. This wasn’t the first fight of yours she’d been in proximity to, and it wouldn’t be the last.

The boy in question leans against your dresser. He’s still wearing his school uniform, not even having the decency to change clothes for your birthday ceremony while you’d been getting trussed up like a Christmas ham since 6 am.

“Technically, he kissed me. And it was just the one time,” he drawls. Your oldest friend stares off into space, likely reminiscing the feeling of kissing one Suguru Geto. You’d never seen the man, since he never had a reason to visit the Utahime Estate and you weren’t allowed to leave. Gojo would have shown you pictures, if your clan elders allowed any blue light on the premises.

You pointedly avoid his gaze - he wasn’t paying attention to you anyhow, probably too busy thinking about Geto - and busy yourself with dismantling the amalgamation of clips and pins that was your hairstyle.

“You’re mad,” Gojo says.

“What would I be mad for, Satoru?” you reply simply.

He counts on his fingers. “First, you’re not looking at me. Second, you called me ‘Satoru,’ and third, I know everything about you, I know when you’re mad.”

You resent that. Gojo was always under the assumption that he knew, as he said, “everything about you,” and you were always positive that he was full of it. He might have been your oldest friend, and he was a significant part of your life, but in light of all the “fate this” and “destiny that” talk from just about everyone you’ve ever met, you were adamant that your thoughts were your own.

You and Satoru Gojo were born on the same cold day in December 1989. The heir to the Gojo Clan first opened his eyes around 6 am, just as the sun broke the horizon and turned the sea of indigo night to golden morning. You, who would be imbued with the Blessed Womb and therefore responsible for the fate of the Utahime Clan, filled your mother’s bedroom with your newborn wails just before 5 pm, when the orange and periwinkle and blue and blush were being covered in a blanket of night. The sight of you brought tears to your big sister’s eyes.

The two of you were introduced to each other as soon as possible, swaddled in your respective blankets and placed beside each other. What your clans envisioned, you’d never know, but baby Satoru wailed in his mother’s arms until his swaddle made contact with yours. All froze in stunned silence when you both immediately fell into a peaceful slumber. It was as if the stars made you to be two parts of a whole.

Within that year, when you were having trouble learning to roll over, you finally did so to come face to face with him. Months later, his first steps were towards you. His mother liked to say that you were a cosmic match, and she guessed that your mother would have said the same thing, had she survived your birth.

The two of you were a fairytale straight out of a storybook.

You would come to resent that.

Where was your own agency? Were you to inevitably fall for a man whom destiny chose for you? What about what you wanted? Why did you not have a say in the universe’s great plan for you?

But none of that mattered, for as you grew older and the true nature of your Blessed Womb came to light, each scrap of autonomy you possessed was stripped away. For much of your childhood, you shared a joint birthday party, alternating between estates each year. As soon as it was up to him, Satoru decided that any celebrations would be just about you. Maybe he believed he was doing you a favor, but all that did was concentrate all the public scrutiny onto you.

You click your tongue. “Yeah, well, you’re free to do whatever you want. I’m happy for you and your new boyfriend.”

“It’s not like that,” he says.

A bobby pin slips from your grip and flings into the mirror, bouncing to the ground. You grunt in frustration and spin around to face him.

“What’s it like, then?” you demand.

He raises his hands up in defense. “It felt weird! We’re good where we’re at, and– Look, I’m not a mind reader, okay? You say with your mouth that you’re happy for me, and then you act pissed off. Which is it and what do you want from me?”

When you try to look away again, he leans the same way, forcing himself into your field of view every time you turn your head.

“Are you mad you’re not my first kiss? Is that it?” You pause at his question and stare at him blankly. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he adds, “You’re my first everything else, princess, you can’t let someone else have this one?”

You grab the first thing within reach - a pretty metal claw clip - and fling it at him. He catches it easily.

“Shut up! You’re so–!” you shout, unable to find an insult suitable for the ire you feel. “You’re so!”

“Full of myself?” he helpfully supplies.

“Don’t put words in my mouth!” you snap. “You’re so damn full of yourself, it’s a wonder you have room for anyone else!” You turn your back to him. “Maybe you don’t.”

 The house servants, and probably your sister if she was in her room, were plenty used to yours and Gojo’s spats by now. You heard from a particularly loose-lipped new maid that there’s a running tally in the staff quarters keeping score of who wins your arguments. She wouldn’t say more, but you like to believe that you’re winning. “Don’t think I care who you put your thin, crusty lips–”

“My lips are soft and supple!”

“Thin–” you emphasize. “--crusty lips on! You can kiss my grandmother for all I care, if she lets you anywhere near her.”

“Grandma Utahime wishes she could get herself a taste of this!”

“Whatever!” You rubbed your temples and tried to will away what you called your “Gojo Headache.” All the headaches caused by him stretched all the way across your forehead and somehow made your jaw ache. They were unmistakable and exclusive.

“See, that’s what pisses me off,” Gojo says, gesturing with one hand. “We argue and when you don’t want to argue any more, you just say ‘whatever’ and nothing gets solved.”

“What part of me not wanting to argue any more do you not understand? You’re so stubborn, it’s not worth it!” you reply.

There’s a light knock at the door. Through it, you hear Miwako’s muffled voice bid you goodnight.

She can’t see you, but you lower your head and speak as soft and sweet as possible. “Thank you, Miwako. Sleep well, and thank you for attending me today.” Then you turn back to Satoru. “But if you’re going to be a pain in the ass about it–”

“I’m the pain in the ass?”

“-- I’ll tell you why I’m mad! I woke up this morning, drank that nasty red ginseng tea, got in the tub, got every inch of me scrubbed down and then lotioned. The attendants brought me into the main hall where I sat and did tea ceremony while the jujutsu clans paraded their men around in front of me, insisting that my grandmother - not me - agrees to a marriage alliance to unite the clans.” Gojo opens his mouth to speak, but you’re not done. “Iori refused to make eye contact with me all day - just like she does every year on my birthday - so the last person I was counting on was you! So excuse me if I’m upset that you showed up late, made me face the Kamo Clan, Naoya Zenin, and the Inumaki Clan’s ten year old successor on my own, then had the audacity to come in and act like it’s fine to talk about your love life like everything is fine and dandy for us both, because it isn’t! It’s just great for you!”

You take a deep breath, panting by now. It’s been a while since you ripped Gojo a genuine new one. Usually, the two of you have minor spats over things you can’t remember and call it a day. The two of you don’t even apologize, you just move on.

The problem was, things would always be harder on you than him. While you sympathized with the insurmountable pressure he must be feeling as the heir of both of his clan’s techniques, he was a man. In the archaic values of the jujutsu upper nobility, he would be free to make more of his own decisions in one day than you would in your entire life. That, and he wasn’t cursed with a Blessed Womb.

You’re still shaking with rage when you glance at Gojo. Even behind his blackout shades, you can see that his eyes are blown wide. But when he finally formulates a reply, you decide that there’s nothing he can say right now that won’t piss you off, so you go over to the window and check outside to see if the coast is clear.

Over your shoulder, you tell him, “Go home, Satoru, every time you open your mouth, you piss me off.”

You throw a leg over the sill and heave yourself up. Gojo follows close behind.

“As if I ever let you boss me around,” he scoffs. He holds a hand out for you to stabilize yourself and you swat it away.

Bringing the other leg over, you land in the grass with a quiet thump. “Point proven,” you deadpan.

Gojo doesn’t even need to use his hands to help him. They remain in his pockets as he takes a high step through the window and easily slips out behind you. It’s an awkward fit for him with limbs as unwieldy as his.

You stalk off through the darkness to the edge of the estate. You quietly slip through and make your way down the path towards gardens. Not many flowers are in bloom this time of year, but the hedges stand tall and obscure you from view of the house.

Gojo ambled along beside you, leaned far back with his questionable posture. You don’t hate him, despite how vicious your fights could be. He was the only person who didn’t treat you differently from everyone else. Funny, considering he was more tied to your existence than anyone else. Even if he liked to push your buttons, he saw you for you, not what you were cursed with.

You were only four years old when extensive genetic testing revealed that you were imbued with an exceedingly rare, ancient power your clan took to calling the Blessed Womb. After studying the signs of its manifestation, the direction of the entire clan became geared towards finding you an auspicious match.

The major jujutsu clans, and many of the minor ones, possessed more than one cursed technique per clan. However, it was rare for any one sorcerer to be born with talents in more than one technique, Satoru being the first in generations to possess both the Six Eyes and Limitless. Precedence and sparse written records dictated that if you coupled with a jujutsu sorcerer, your offspring was not only guaranteed to possess whatever your own abilities were, but they’d manifest any and all of their father’s techniques as well.

Needless to say, the sharks frenzied once word got out.

You flop down in the grass and lay on your back to look up at the night sky. The estate was more isolated from the city and had no electric lights. The stars twinkled above, and you almost felt sorry for cursing them so. Emphasis on almost, seeing as they had no qualms about doing the same to you.

“Who cares about the yearly marriage exhibition?” Gojo asked. He joined you in the grass, leaning back on his hands. “When the time comes, you’re just gonna marry me, right?” When you don’t reply, he continues, “We were born on the same day, these superstitious old crones wouldn’t go back on that.”

“Shut up, Satoru,” you think to yourself. Not that he would have, had you said it aloud.

“We marry, you don’t have to deal with them ever again, and you’re free,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You can even get a boyfriend, if you want, I don’t mind.”

“And then what, Satoru?” You can’t keep the irritation out of your voice. “We live complacently in our loveless marriage and I help you rebuild your clan, give you an heir even stronger than you, and we all live happily ever after? You, me, and our respective side pieces?”

Satoru goes quiet. For all the times you’ve told him to shut his mouth, his silence puts a pit in your stomach. The air doesn’t feel quite right without his voice.

“Hey, I–”

“I thought we knew each other better than that,” he says quietly.

Something ugly wells inside you. A warped monster born of feelings you locked away years ago. It lived in the dark, starving, uncared for until it morphed into a malicious caricature of what it used to be.

No matter what you feared you felt, you couldn’t love Satoru Gojo. Period.

One day, you’d be free. You would withhold the usage of your Blessed Womb from the world. You would go childless to maintain scraps of your autonomy, and you’d learn to live your own life. Study jujutsu sorcery, rent an apartment you could decorate. Anything to stop feeling like you were being jerked around by fate.

As for Gojo, he wanted a family. Something to call his own, where he didn’t have to be the strongest. He could just be Satoru. And to accept that life with him would mean compromising your own desires. Besides, was your love for him a choice you made or was it yet another thing fate wanted to force upon you?

“I’m sorry,” you say, because you are. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.”

He lies down on his side facing you. You respond in kind, rolling over to face him just like the first time when you were children.

Your clan would be scandalized by your proximity. His warm breath tickles your face. He smells of crushed spearmint and clean linen.

Funny how if your lives weren’t so intertwined, you might’ve let yourself love him fully.

Gojo leans forward slowly enough for you to pull back if you want. Against your better judgment, you don’t. He stops and it becomes quickly apparent that he won’t move any further. If you want this, you have to close the gap.

All you want is to close your eyes and surge forward, pressing your lips to his. You imagine they’re soft as he claimed and you’d know you’re in trouble when the butterflies aren’t just in your stomach. They’d be splashed across your nose, collecting in your fingertips, and fluttering down your legs, and just like that, you’d be his.

You can’t have that, now, can you?

Gojo’s eyes snap open when your warmth disappears. You sit up and he follows suit, looking more uncertain than you’d ever seen him.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks and you shake your head furiously, both as a response and to clear your head.

Avoiding his gaze, you reply, “No?”

“Is that a question or?”

“Look, Satoru, we’ve had a lot of firsts together and today was the first time we didn’t, right?” You rip up the grass beneath you in your fingers. 

Gojo jumps to his feet, furious. “No way you’re punishing me for what happened with Suguru!”

“I’m not punishing you for shit!” You throw your hands up in the air. “Can’t I say two sentences without you interrupting me?”

“Then talk!” Gojo shouts back, uncaring that the two of you could be heard. “Explain to me what your problem is!”

“I’m surprised you wanna hear it, at this point!” you retort, getting to your feet.

“Of course I do! I always do when it’s you!”

“All I’m saying is maybe we don’t have to be each other’s firsts for everything! You got to have your first kiss with your first love, so I want to save mine for the same!” you finish.

Gojo freezes, and you take that to mean you’re right on the money.

“I–” you run a hand through your hair. “I know you like you know me. And I’ve never heard you talk about anyone or anything the way you talk about him, so. Yeah. I’m not mad, Toru. I promise. I am happy for you.”

His face is unreadable, which is saying something coming from you. Your oldest friend looks a mix of incredulous, confused, and something else you can’t place.

He shakes his head. More. And he keeps shaking it until you think his eyes are going to fall out.

“You know what, I–” He groans in frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that? I’m not mad you don’t want to kiss me, that’s fine, that’s up to you, I would never hold that against you in this lifetime or the next or the dozen after that, but my problem is with everything else you just said!”

“Who said I don’t want to kiss you, Toru? Don’t put words in my mouth!” you reply.

“Is that the only thing you listened to?”

Something inhuman screeches near the front gate, effectively cutting off the conversation at hand. You pale. With someone as valuable as you on the premises, the Utahime Estate had state-of-the-art protections in place. Nothing unauthorized should have been able to make it anywhere near.

Gojo puts his glasses back on. “Stay here.”

“What? No, I’m coming with you!” you insist, but he’s not having it.

“Just because I taught you to fight doesn’t mean I want you doing it! Stay here!” And with that, Gojo runs off into the night.

You watch him take a few steps then disappear and not for the first time, you wish you could teleport, too. Reaching into your sleeve,  you pull a spool of red thread from a small pocket inside.

Seconds later, their hair on your arms stand on end and a sense of foreboding overtakes you. You hear a low growl behind you and smile. Time to put Gojo’s teachings to the test.

~

Your clanmates find you right where Gojo left you, panting and covered with curse blood and unidentifiable chunks. Red threads hang tangled and limp from both your hands.

The clan’s matriarch, your grandmother, shuffles up to you and grabs your chin, tilting it from side to side searching for blemishes of any sort. Meanwhile, the rest of the clan fussed over how a curse could have made it past the protections.

“Where’s Toru?” you ask tiredly. The cursed spirit that attempted to ambush you was relatively easy to beat, large, but awkward and slow-moving, but it still took some movement on your part to dispatch it. You could only hope that Gojo didn’t meet anything too menacing.

Right on cue, because he loved to make an entrance, Gojo strolled across the yard, hands in his pockets like it was a warm, sunny day in the park and not nearly midnight. But what really caught your clan’s attention was the tall, wide older man marching at his side. You’d never seen him before and you couldn’t recall Gojo mentioning him in any of his stories from school.

Gojo walks right through the small crowd and stopped in front of you and your grandmother.

“Everyone, I’d like you all to meet my teacher, Mr. Masamichi Yaga,” he says.

The older man bows to the matriarch. “As Gojo said, I’m a second-year instructor at Tokyo Jujutsu High.”

Your grandmother gives a withering stare of disapproval. “And I assume Satoru has a very good reason for bringing an unauthorized adult man onto my estate, especially with my granddaughter present.”

With an appearance as painstakingly maintained as yours, you and your clan quickly learned that the men that got to be in your presence required strict curating, lest the wrong man get the wrong idea.

“Actually, I’m here because of your granddaughter,” Yaga says.

“What would a jujutsu instructor possibly want with her?” When your grandmother asked questions, it wasn’t because she needed an answer. More often than not, she’d already put two and two together and was seeing if they had the balls to say it aloud for her.

“I mean, she just slayed a Grade 2 cursed spirit, so,” Gojo shrugs.

Everyone who knew of Satoru Gojo had an opinion of him, and people could say what they wanted, but if nothing else, he was a gifted instructor. Every movement during your fight felt comfortable, confident, controlled.

“Lady Utahime, it is as good as law that those who possess a cursed technique must attend formal schooling in jujutsu sorcery,” Yaga explains something she knows full well.

Your grandmother gives him a long look, then glares at you.

“It seems as though she’s picked up a thing or two on her own.” Her gaze pierces through Gojo and it was unclear who truly possessed the Six-Eyes. To his credit, though, he just smiled at her guilelessly. She clicked her tongue. “Well played, Satoru.” To you, she says, “You will perform your full duty to the clan. We did not spend generations building our life only for you to squander it with your selfishness.”

You blink. “Yes, grandmother.” You’re honestly lost at this point.

“Pack your things, get out of my sight. Yaga, come with me to discuss terms.” She turns to head back towards the house with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Let us pray that Satoru Gojo truly is the strongest.”

The rest of the entourage follows close behind her. You watch them go until Gojo slings an arm over your shoulders, nonplussed by the blood and entrails still covering you.

“Yay! Let’s go pack your stuff!” He drags you towards your room. “You can live right next to me, and whatever you don’t have, we can buy in the city, my treat!” He cheers.

“Hold on!” You pull back and easily slip out of his grasp. Clearly he only meant to guide you and you were always free to escape his hold. “What am I missing here?”

Gojo grins boyishly and takes you by the hands.

“Starting right now, you’re going to be a student at Jujustu High!” he announces.

Your jaw goes slack. “What? I can’t! I’ve never even left the estate! My grandmother would never agree to this!”

Taking one hand and dropping the other, Gojo pulls you - more gently - towards your room.

“She just did. Now, come on! Before she changes her mind!”

As you struggle to keep up with his long strides, the pieces begin to come together in your mind. Your grandmother was always very strict, to say the least, and she insisted that you complete your duty to the clan. Since birth, it had been drilled into your head that your bride price, along with other gifts of good will and an alliance with another clan, would single handedly revive your dying clan. To be fair, you could see the logic. You only wished you didn’t have to sacrifice every aspect of your life.

But maintaining your beauty was a show of wealth. Your Blessed Womb would be plenty to secure everything the clan needed. With it, even if you had one eye and three noses, you’d have a barrage of suitors.

What’s more, doctors concluded that your unnaturally high output of cursed energy was the key component in your mother’s death during your birth. Grandmother hadn’t done anything about it yet, but it was the general consensus that if you had a strong control of your own technique, your chances of surviving childbirth were much higher. There was just that one final push to force your grandmother to relinquish control of you.

“Those curses didn’t break through our defenses,” you say in realization. “You let it in. That’s how Mr. Yaga was here.”

Gojo doesn’t turn back, but you can see his cheeks shift with his smile.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he says.

“That’s why you were late today,” you say quietly. A pit grows in your stomach. “You were setting all this up.”

He squeezes your hand and guides you into your bedroom. He lets you go and flops onto your bed, arms and legs spread like a starfish.

“I promised I’d help you be free of this estate one day. Remember what you said to me a couple years ago?” he asks.

Forcing yourself to move, you pull out the necessities and throw them on the bed. “Not really, no.”

“You said, and I quote,” he took on a high-pitched falsetto, “”If I spent all my time waiting for a man to rescue me, I’d never get anything done.” Do you remember that?”

Vividly, but you decide he doesn’t need to know that. You already gave him a free pass for that piss poor imitation of you. You grab a few select pieces of your favorite hair accessories.

“Sort of,” you reply.

“All I did today was give you an opportunity.” His eyes, the color of the heavenly sky, focus on you. “Congratulations, my twin flame. You rescued yourself tonight.”

~~

(A/N: Will this get more parts? Probably. Lmk what you think and thanks for reading <;3)

[in-class-daydreams]

My One and Only (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader (Established relationship) Synopsis: It's seventh year and you're exceedingly happy with your loving boyfriend, Sebastian. Having had enough excitement for the rest of your time at Hogwarts, you both were happy to sit idly by and spectate the Triwizard Tournament. Only, that's not what the universe has in store for you. Notes/TW: Another installment in the Headmaster's Kid MC universe, because I love the drama. MC sort of has PTSD from the Ranrok thing, but it's not described in detail nor is it called such in the story.

You were in the Slytherin common room, leafing through Goblets, Goblins, and Gobstones: An Anthology of Magical Folklore. It was a gift from Sebastian from before either of you realized you loved each other. Back then, he couldn’t name the warmth in his chest whenever he saw you, but his regard for you was so great, he gave you a treasure from his childhood, the book of stories his mother used to read to him and his sister as children. Even though you were now utterly devoted to one another, you still liked to bring it out from time to time. It was as if his mother’s love extended to you, who never had anyone who felt like real family. The House of Black was not the most hospitable of bloodlines.

“She’d have loved you,” you remembered Sebastian saying. “You’re clever and funny and your brand of love is so similar to hers.” You liked to think that in your love for Sebastian, you returned a piece of his mother to him.

“Black!” Imelda shouted from the front door. “Your boyfriend’s gotten himself into another fight!”

You looked up, more than a bit confused. Since things had quieted down, neither you nor Sebastian had been getting into brawls of any sort. If there was one thing you’d learned about him over the years is that he always had a reason for doing things. You might not have realized that, considering you met him during arguably the worst year of his life, but now that it was over and Anne was cured, he was his affable, happy self. Even more so when he found out you loved him back.

Tucking the tome beneath your arm, you rushed over to Imelda, who led you a short distance to a hallway where a small crowd had gathered and Professor Weasley was already marching your boyfriend away from the scene.

You hurried to follow at her side.

“What happened?” you asked.

Professor Weasley sighed. “Yet another physical altercation. I thought you were done with these, Sebastian.”

Sebastian, face still red with rage, looked stubbornly forward. You noted his split brow and darkening bruise on his cheek with a frown.

“He normally is,” you insisted. “Please, professor, can we hear him out in private first?”

Professor Weasley was a reasonable woman, and she knew it was true that you and Sebastian both had been on your best behaviors since Anne was cured. The two of you had a happy, quiet peace together without goblin rebellions and cursed sisters, and the most exciting thing you did nowadays was play highly competitive games of Summoner’s Court. Some people wondered if you ever missed the excitement, and you’d reply that while you enjoyed a good challenge, you’d gladly give up being in constant peril for the rest of your time at Hogwarts.

Weasley relented and led you into a spare room away from prying eyes. You sat Sebastian down and set to work patching his wounds in a practiced routine.

“Sebastian. Lovey.” His hard stare softened at the endearment.  “Tell us what’s wrong, please?” you asked gently.

Sebastian took a deep breath and it became apparent that he wasn’t withholding the information, he was previously too enraged to explain.

“Yaxley and his band of idiots put your name in the Goblet of Fire,” he said through gritted teeth.

You let the information sink in, only for your blood to drain from your face entirely. With your luck, you had a highly likely chance of being selected to represent Hogwarts.

Since you’d accepted Isadora’s power to cure Anne, your magic had been permanently altered. You had returned to the Keepers, apologizing profusely and insisting that you were willing to return the power to keep it contained away from anyone. Given the fact that you were integral to stopping Ranrok and you surprised them by being willing to relinquish such power so easily, the Keepers tentatively forgave you. Though, you suspected that Professors Fitzgerald and Bakar were particularly softened by how you only took the power at all for Sebastian’s sake. One did not simply cast the Killing Curse in defense of a mere friend. You would know.

But even after the dark magic left your body, your own magic had become altered. More lethal, more sinister. You managed it just fine in the day-to-day since you yourself had no sinister intentions, but if the tournament put you in danger, you could not promise that your magic would stifle its lethality.

Professor Weasley was just as enraged as Sebastian.

“They what?” she raised her voice. “Did they succeed? Or was it only an idea?”

Sebastian’s head hung low and he rested his elbows on his knees. “It’s already been done. I didn’t act fast enough. I’m sorry.”

Disregarding your own panic, you hugged him close.

“Oh, Sebastian, don’t be,” you assured him. “I’ll manage. I always do.”

Sebastian looked like he wanted to say more, but you turned to address Professor Weasley.

“I don’t suppose we can get my name out of the Goblet, can we?” you asked.

The professor shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. The contract is magically-binding. We simply have to hope that someone who actually volunteered is chosen, not you,” she replied.

It was concluded that Sebastian would get an obligatory detention for starting a physical fight, but it would be short, and he’d be allowed his books, so it wasn’t much of a punishment. It was highly generous of her, and you noted as much. On her way out the door, Weasley smiled over her shoulder, stating that, “Had I been in your position when I was a student, I might have done the same.”

Afterwards, you helped Sebastian back to the dormitory. One of Yaxley’s group had gotten in a lucky shot to his leg and left him limping slightly.

“Sebastian,” you said before you parted ways. He turned towards you and you took his face in your hands. You pressed a butterfly kiss to his nose. “Thank you for trying to protect me.”

He furrowed his brow. “Trying isn’t good enough,” he stated.

“It is for me,” you replied gently. “No one’s ever been behind me one hundred percent until I met you. I grew up so alone and I always felt so unwanted.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb. “The fact that you care is plenty enough for me. So, don’t worry. Even if the Goblet of Fire spits my name out, I will manage, because I have you.”

You pressed a goodnight kiss to his lips and headed to bed. You thought Sebastian’s weak kiss back was because he was tired and distracted and, well, you were half right.

Several days later, you gripped your boyfriend’s hand as you all sat in Beauxbatons’s equivalent of the Great Hall, impatiently waiting for the Headmistress to draw a name. The large room was lavishly decorated, like a dining room in the Palace of Versailles.

Anne, Imelda, and Natty sat in front of you while Ominis and Poppy sat to your left. They looked at you with worry, having been updated on the situation. You all knew full well that the universe greatly enjoyed putting you at the center stage of great peril, and while you were honest with Sebastian that you’d manage, you were exhausted. Dueling was fun for a challenge, fighting for your life was tiresome.

You squeezed Sebastian’s hand under the table. He gave you three pulses back, eyes never leaving the Goblet. He was more tense than usual, and you assumed it was out of concern for you.

The Beauxbatons Headmistress went onstage with great ceremony, giving a spiel about the history of the Triwizard Tournament and what an honor it was to represent the school in such a rich tradition of joint relations between the three schools. She had a heavy, lilting French accent and had a stately aura about her not unlike Professor Weasley.

The Goblet’s blue flame turned red and spit out a singed piece of parchment, which the Headmistress caught and read aloud.

“The Durmstrang Champion is…” she paused for effect. “Sava Peycheva!”

Their student body erupted in cheers and applause as a tall, powerfully-built girl with long dark hair shook the Headmistress’s hand and waved to the crowd. Unlike you’d have been, she seemed completely at ease, as if her victory was guaranteed. You could respect someone confident in her abilities to that degree.

Sava took her seat and the Goblet’s flame turned red once more. Taking the parchment, the Headmistress announced the next champion.

“The Hogwarts Champion is…”

The darker part of your magic sang, eager to be put through its paces, but you felt a lump in your throat. You had been willing to use lethal force once, but only because of what was at stake. The idea of harming anyone now was enough to make you sick to your stomach.

You white-knuckled Sebastian’s hand and you all held your breath when the Headmistress spoke, loud and clear.

“Sebastian Sallow!”

[in-class-daydreams]

Talking Terms (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader Synopsis: Things are awkward between you and Sebastian after everything that happened with his uncle. You haven't spoken since before the holidays and this is the first time you've seen each other since the incidents. Your life is progressing with or without him, but you'd be a fool to deny that parts of you - all the important ones - remain with him. Notes/TW: Rich people. Also you're a member of the Black Family in this one. No use of YN. Unedited tho, ya girl ain't got attention span like that.

While families and lineage tended to hold a lot of weight where you lived, and everyone who wasn’t part of the main circle wished they were, money and status weren’t nearly worth the trouble, in your opinion. Late nights at tiresome soirees among the other pure-blood families tittering about how pure their blood is or whatever it is they talk about. You play the game, of course, just until you finally graduate from Hogwarts. As soon as that happens, you’ll never step foot in 12 Grimmauld Place again.

On the train to Hogwarts, you reach out to slide open a compartment door when a pale hand reaches past you.

“Please, let me get that for you,” your companion says, gesturing for you to enter first. Over the last several holidays, your family has been eager to introduce you to some other eligible pure-bloods your age. They were unsurprisingly heinous people, guilty of just about every prejudice in the book - against muggle-borns, against poor people, against women, it was like they had a checklist.

What was surprising was your odd fondness for Pollux Carrow, a fellow Slytherin you’d seen once or twice in the common room but never spoken to, hailing from the noble Carrow family. It would be a stretch to say you liked him. Growing up in a Sacred Twenty-Eight family of pure-bloods would always be a cauldron of generational trauma, and just because Pollux wasn’t a bad person, it didn’t mean he was the most saintly person, either.

The two of you enter the compartment and before Pollux can insist, you heft your bags into the overhead bin yourself. You sit, stretch out, and crack open the first book you grabbed on your way out the door that morning. The well-loved leather cover is soft beneath your fingers.

Goblets, Goblins, and Gobstones: An Anthology of Magical Folklore

Your heart clenches. You’d only received this a few months ago. You remember a flash of freckles and a boyish smile, telling you how he’d found it at a used bookstore and just had to get it for you. The tip of his nose was red from the cold, but he could not have cared less when you hugged him tightly and thanked him for the gift.

You’d gotten him a book as well, naturally, but you never got to give it to him.

“Merlin’s beard, that thing’s been through the wringer,” Pollux says from his seat.

You hum just to acknowledge him.

“Read it many times, then?” he asked.

The incident with Solomon Sallow happened not too long after. Since then, you couldn’t bring yourself to even open the thing. Not when you and the person you wanted to discuss it with the most weren’t speaking. You’d even given Ominis some space so as to not put him in a tight spot between his friends.

Finally, you reply, “It was a gift.”

Pollux eyes your book like it was diseased. “Interesting gift.”

This time you don’t deign to reply, knowing Pollux was one of those people who needed to have an opinion on everything. 

Movement in the walkway catches your eye and you gasp when a shock of fluffy brown hair breezes past the window. Ominis’s unmistakable visage follows closely behind, visibly grabbing for the boy in front of him and steering him into your compartment.

“Do you have room for two more?” Ominis asks. His posh accent and soft voice were always pleasing to hear. “All the other compartments are full.”

You know very well that they’re not, but you play along anyway.

“By all means.” You move your legs and belongings out of the way and pat the seat beside you. With the other hand, you shove your book under your thigh.

Maybe it’s seeing him again after time apart or the leather tome that smells like him sitting just beneath your robes, but the words are out of your mouth before you can think better of it.

“Hi, Sebastian,” you murmur.

The boy in question looks confused that you addressed him at all. He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut before shaking his head and giving you a nod.

“Hello.” His voice is a tad deeper than you remember it and he looks more tired. He inclines his head towards your companion. “Carrow.”

“Hello, Sallow,” Pollux replied. What is it with boys and calling each other by their last names?

Sebastian quickly plants himself beside Pollux and busies himself in a book you’ve seen him read a hundred times before. He was reading it when you first met him in the common room, in fact. He buries himself in his reading, but his lips are pressed into a hard line and he’s squinting at the words.

Rather than stir up trouble, you turn to Ominis.

“How was your holiday?”

He laughs. “Of course it was,” then he seemed to remember Pollux, “fine. Good to see family again.”

Being in close proximity to the Gaunt family could never be described as ‘good,’ even for the more obedient members of the family, which Ominis was not.

Thinking quickly on your feet, you feign coughing into your fist.

“Are you alright?” Pollux asks.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You cough again. “My throat’s just a little dry.”

He jumps to his feet. “I’ll get you some water!” And with that, he’s gone. If your calculations were correct, he’d see some more Slytherins on the way to the beverage cart and get held up for at least ten minutes.

“Well, Ominis? How was it really?” you prod.

He rolls his milky eyes and scoffs. “As good as predicted, that is, not at all. My family has migrated to our country estate for the season and when it wasn’t contentious between us, it was terribly boring.” He shrugs tiredly. “And you? Does the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black have anything to do with your new companion?”

You cringe at the full title. “The social season is months away, and yet they insist that I meet the other pure-blooded hellspawn.”

“Unsurprising that they’d favor a Carrow for you,” Ominis sighs. “I think I’ve spent at least half my holiday in the presence of the Greengrass’ youngest.”

“She’s pretty, at least,” you comment before Ominis raises an eyebrow at you.

“I wouldn’t know.”

You desperately stifle your laughter.

“Besides,” he adds, “she takes great fun in making the house elves compete for sport.”

Wrinkling your nose, you ask, “Compete in what?”

“A better question would be what don’t they compete in?”

The two of you stare at each other in disgust before dropping the subject entirely. You steal a glance at Sebastian, who hasn’t turned the page since he opened his book and you know for a fact that he is an amazingly fast reader.

Ominis gives you a look that sends a shock of dread through you. He always made that face when he was planning something.

“Well, Garreth should be around here somewhere.” Ominis stood, stretching. “I have a book of his and I should pass it off to him now before I end up carrying it around for the rest of the day. I’ll be back shortly.”

You open your mouth to protest but he all but ran out the door. Sighing, you resign yourself to watching the landscape blur past through the window. Though, you note that Sebastian still has yet to turn the page. Part of you wants to say something, anything to fill the silence. Yet, what would you say? ‘I know you killed your uncle not too long ago, but how are you? Had a good holiday in an empty house?’ Or even ‘Remember how I prevented you from getting sent to Azkaban? So we’re good, right?’

Stealing another glance at him with his head nearly buried in the pages, you think about how the hardest part of being in this awkward place with Sebastian is that you don’t feel like you can talk to him. Before, you could sneak into the restricted section of the library and raid goblin camps and sit in the astronomy tower seeing who can invent the silliest new constellation.

Sebastian always won at that. It’s easy for smart people to be funny.

The two of you hadn't exchanged a single owl all holiday. Then, with all these memories in mind, you had to wonder: Did Sebastian miss you as much as you missed him? Of course, you had your bonds with Poppy and Imelda and Natty, but for all intents and purposes, Sebastian was your best friend. Being out of sync with him was like hearing a beloved song in the wrong key.

Even while your family paraded you around, introducing the different sons and daughters of the noble purebloods to you, you only thought of Sebastian. You’d never be fond of any of those bigots anyhow, but each of their flaws were in relation to him. They’d be too short or too tall,  another lacking enough freckles, and then one wouldn’t laugh at a joke you made that would’ve had Sebastian rolling on the floor with tears in his eyes. They were all wrong on so many accounts.

Pollux was the best of them, which wasn’t saying much, but he wasn’t nearly as hateful as the rest of them. At the time, while you were missing someone, he was an acceptable stand-in.

Being alone with Sebastian was quickly becoming too suffocating. You stand and rush to the compartment door and in your haste you almost don’t register the dull thud behind you.

When you turn, you see Sebastian pick up the leather tome you forgot you had. He turns it over in his hands, his expression unreadable.

“Oh!” You exclaim nervously, reaching for it. “Thank you, I’m so clumsy.”

“You kept it?” Sebastian said quietly.

You were somewhat offended at the implication. When he turned, you forced yourself to look into his eyes when you replied, “Of course, I did. It was a gift and I wanted to know why you liked it so much.” By the time the words left your mouth, you wondered if you’d said too much.

Sebastian doesn’t look away. His grip on your book loosened and an array of emotions flashed across his face. The circles under his eyes had lightened since you last saw him, but they were still there.

He wordlessly passes the book back to you and your skin tingles where your fingers brush.

“I wanted you to know.” Sebastian broke eye contact, then seemed to catch himself and reestablished it. “I feel like you deserve to know that–”

You jump when the door slides open right next to you. Pollux stands on the other side holding two cups of water. He begins to speak when rush out the door, calling out some excuse about needing the restroom over your shoulder. Never mind that the restroom was in the opposite direction.

Just the next car over, you run into Ominis, who aims the red tip of his wand towards you.

“Why are you so upset? What did Sebastian say to you?” He demands, then his eyes widen in shock. “Did he give that to you?”

You nod, and adjust your grip on the book. “Yes, a while ago. He said he couldn’t wait until the proper holidays. But I haven’t gotten around to reading it. Not that I don’t want to, it’s just that it’s–”

“You’re rambling,” Ominis interrupts. You smile sheepishly and he looks solemn. “He loves that book more than life itself. Did he tell you that?”

The book is leather, with loose bindings and yellowing pages. “No? It’s just some folklore, I do tend to like stories like these,” you reply.

Ominis shakes his head. “It’s full of his old bedtime stories. His mother used to read it to him before she died. It’s one of the last memories of her he has.”

You stare at the book in disbelief, looking back and forth from it to Ominis. “You’re serious? I can’t take something like this! We’re not even on speaking terms!”

Ominis pats your shoulder on his way past you. “Impulsive as he may be, Sebastian doesn’t take this sort of thing lightly. If he gave it to you, he wanted you to have it. Perhaps talk to him about it? Or about anything for that matter. Honestly, the two of you would have significantly less problems if you just talked to each other.”

As he leaves, you stare after him, the book in your hand suddenly much heavier than it was before. Smiling softly, you find an empty compartment - you knew Ominis was lying earlier - and sit down. The smell of the old book is comforting when you turn the first page, and it reminds you of someone who smells just like it. For the first time in weeks, you relax and begin to read.

[in-class-daydreams]

Oh Yeah, Baby! (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian Sallow x Pregnant!Fem!Reader Synopsis: You visit your husband at work, where you meet some of the new junior Aurors he's helping train. You're beyond pregnant by now, but some things never change. Alternatively: Just Because You’re Pregnant Doesn't Mean You Can't Throw Hands TW: On the spice scale, mayonnaise with a dash of paprika.

Hogwarts would always be the most beautiful piece of architecture you’ve ever witnessed, considering the hidden rooms you’ve become privy to and how the school brought you and your beloved husband together. That said, the Ministry of Magic was a close second with its tall, domelike structure with talented witches and wizards scurrying about making sure wizard society was on the up and up.

You tug at the waistband of your skirt. The bulk of your belly is at an angle where your skirt always rides up to accommodate and you are tired of it. You're due to pop any day now and no matter what anyone says, pregnancy is not a wonderland and you want this baby out now. You put a lot of thought into your coordinated work outfits with Sebastian, and Baby Sallow makes it impossible for you to wear half of them. Sure, you didn’t have to wear that particular skirt, but it’s easy to hitch up, and no matter what Sebastian says, it can’t hurt to be prepared.

On your way through the gates, you hear a voice call out to you. You turn to find a familiar face bouncing up to you. Venusia Crickerly is a tall, lithe woman with dark brown hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She has a thick Irish accent and is both a talented Auror and your husband’s boss, your own job making it easy for you and her to become fast friends. Though, you think, Venusia was the type of person who could make a friend out of a boggart, if she were so inclined.

“Look at you, you’re positively glowing!” she exclaims, pulling you into a big hug, conscious of your protruding stomach. “How are you?”

“I feel like a whale, but otherwise I’m quite well.”

She laughs. “Understood.”

The two of you proceed through the gate, chatting about work and the baby and Ve nusia’s new giant plant, Smashley.

“So, you’re bringing your doting husband lunch?” She points at the cloth wrapped parcel in your hands.

“Yes, but,” you wave your hand and a glass bottle of peach juice appears and floats over to her. “I had a feeling I’d see you today.”

Venusia squeals with delight and snatches the bottle out of the air to down half of it in one gulp. Peach juice was a bit hard to track down these days, but you’ve always been good at finding things, and your friend’s enthusiasm made it worth it.

“You’re a gem! I don’t know what Sallow did to make you fall for him, but it must’ve been magnificent!” she says.

Both of you flash your badges at the security checkpoint. The guard glances at them and lets you pass through the glamour-deactivating mist, which clears you without a hitch.

You smile at the memory. “The short of it is, we were at Hogwarts and I needed to get into the Restricted Section of the library. Sebastian helped me because he tended to do that kind of thing often.”

“Sounds like him.”

“Sebastian got caught first and instead of giving me up to secure himself a lesser punishment, he took the fall for me.” Even after all this time, you still feel giddy and shy thinking about it. How it felt to be protected by someone for a change. “Then all of a sudden I was head over heels.”

Venusia claps a hand over her heart. “How sweet! He’s been all in on you since the beginning, hasn’t he?”

You rest a hand on your bump. “He really has.”

Upon entry to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you don’t see your husband anywhere in the bullpen. Venusia gestures for you to follow her down the leftmost hallway, which you remember from a tour with Sebastian leading towards the training arena.

As you pass the individual rooms with enchanted glass, you see various witches and wizards practicing spells on dummies or dueling with each other.

“State-of-the-art facilities, are they not?” Venusia says with pride.

“They really are,” you reply.

“You could have access to them, too, if you came to work for me.” She’s only half-teasing.

Admittedly, the thought had crossed your mind more than once. The Department of Mysteries gave you a substantial maternity leave considering your line of work was already hard on your own body. Exposing your unborn child to it could prove detrimental. That said, when you originally applied for the job, you were still the ‘live fast, die young’ type. You fought Ranrok and Victor Rookwood for three reasons: for Fig’s sake, for the greater good, and because you couldn’t just let them kill you because it’s the principle of the thing. If you were to fall, you’d want to fall in battle, but not to either of those two, because they were disgusting little mole men that needed to be put down. Suffice to say, starting a family didn’t really cross your mind.

Now, though, perhaps it was time to find an easier line of work so you could, you know, actually get to raise your child. The concept of Sebastian being a househusband was more than tempting. You’d come home from a long day, covered in soot and blood. Your husband would be home making dinner, a babe on his hip while a toddler clung to his legs.

Yes, the prodigal Auror, son of two professors, Master of the Dark Arts, doing housework for his beloved wife. You bite your lip at the delicious thought.

“-ello? Anyone home!” Venusia’s voice snaps you out of your daydream. When you come to, she’s eyeing you warily. “What’s gotten into you? Is it the babe?”

You shake your head. “It’s alright, I’m fine.”

She doesn’t seem to believe you, but doesn’t pry. There’s not much time, anyhow, since you come upon a larger gym where you know Sebastian and the other Aurors that go out in the field more often tend to train.

Venusia says her goodbyes and drops you off at the door. Your timing is impeccable, and you just manage to catch the unmistakable figure of your husband launching his opponent clear across the padded floor. You smile to yourself, thinking that if you weren’t viciously pregnant, you’d challenge Sebastian right now and thrash him soundly in front of his coworkers. One would think that would be a bit embarrassing as a husband, but the ever-surprising Sebastian quite enjoys getting schooled by you. After all, he originally fell for you while on his ass in Hecat’s classroom, your wand still hot and glowing.

Sebastian helps his coworker, whom you recognize, to his feet, another one sitting on the bench catches his attention and nods their head towards you. Your husband’s head snaps around like an owl and the goofiest grin spreads across his face. He drops his coworker on his ass and bounds up to you.

As he wraps you in a gentle hug, he doesn’t even bother to wipe the sweat off his brow and his forearms are glistening and peeking out of his rolled up sleeves. You inhale deeply, basking in your husband’s scent and thinking about how you’d love to make him sweat in a different capacity.

Sebastian pulls back. “Brought me lunch, did you? Can’t seem to keep away from me, can you?”

You hum contentedly and rest your hands on your baby bump (definitely more than a bump).

“If I could keep away from you, Sallow, I wouldn’t be here growing your child,” you reply.

Your husband smiles boyishly at you, his hands on your hips.

“Best learn to call me by my name. There’s about to be three of us living under one roof soon enough,” he counters.

From across the room, his sparring partner calls out to him. You recognize most of the group from a number of work functions you’ve accompanied Sebastian to, but not him.

“Oi, Bastian!” called his coworker with a thick Scottish accent. He and a few of the others - the ones you don’t recognize - jog over. “This your wife?”

“My favorite one, anyway,” Sebastian says and grins cheekily. You swat him in the shoulder. “Love, these are some of the rookies. They’re getting some hands-on learning from us today.”

You greet Sebastian’s juniors and shake all of their hands. Part of you feels old now that you’ve met new Aurors when yours and Sebastian’s N.E.W.T.s feel like yesterday, but you ignore it and decide to feel old once your child goes off to Hogwarts.

“You’re the Unspeakable, then?” A young woman in the back asks. She looks like she should still be in secondary school, but you have been noticing that the young people have begun to look younger.

“The one with Ancient Magic?” someone gasps in awe.

“Ancient Magic! I heard she can damn well chuck lightning at someone!” exclaims another.

You laugh and shake your head. “Something like that.”

“You should spar with Reilly!”

“Yeah!”

The junior Aurors clamor, eager to see your skills in action. You open your mouth to gently decline, but are interrupted by the entrance of the one junior who didn’t come running up to you.

The young man is tall, about Sebastian’s height with dark blond hair and blue eyes. He has a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. In fact, something about him reminds you of your husband when you first met him.

Oh. Now you remembered. Your husband had mentioned him more than a few times in passing. He stated that the boy was ‘quite good for a cheeky bastard,’ which meant that you were right on the money and the lad reminds Sebastian of himself.

“You called for me?” Reilly asks, hand in his pockets.

His peers clamor and urge him to spar with you. How it’s a great opportunity and not every new Auror gets to practice with an Unspeakable, much less one of your caliber.

“Now, really, I can’t,” Reilly insists. “Not against a witch with a record such as hers.”

Flatterer.

Reilly places his hands behind his back. “Not pregnant, anyway. I’ll wait to earn my victory fair and square when she’s at full power.”

Never fucking mind.

Sebastian lets out a tired sigh and rests a hand on your arm. “My love, you don’t have to–”

“Here are the terms, then, boy,” you say, smiling, hands clasped in front of you. “Obviously, you can’t attack me, but if you can evade me for thirty seconds, you win. Actually, that’s unreasonable. I’ll say twenty.”

Reilly scowls. “Thirty.”

You shrug and gesture for him to lead the way.

“Please don’t injure him too badly,” Sebastian implores you. “This could be a learning experience for him, but not if you slam him into the ground.”

You wave him off. “Experience is the best teacher!” you insist.

“Experiencing broken ribs and a shattered ego is not,” Sebastian sighs, but pulls out his watch to time you. "Remember what the doctor said!"

"That I'd be just fine performing magic?" you say dryly.

"That your powers make your body unpredictable. Just be careful." Sebastian goes to take his place.

You and Reilly draw your wands and stand on opposite sides of the padded floor. His peers watch eagerly from the sidelines and you even see some money change hands between them.

“Ready?” Sebastian asks from a platform overlooking the arena.

You remind yourself to honor Sebastian's wishes and not overdo it. The doctor said you were free to perform magic and the baby would be just fine, but you ought to keep in moderation.

You and Reilly nod and Sebastian starts the duel.

Feeling generous, you cast a few basic spells at the young Auror to test him out. He deflects them easily. A few times, he simply dodges instead of casting protego. When he dodges one of your other attacks, he takes a moment to wink at the group of his peers.

Just like Sebastian indeed. Extraordinarily gifted and all too aware of it. Your guess is that, like Sebastian, he learns best when he faces someone far better than himself.

You feel the familiar crackling of electricity coursing through your veins. You feint and telegraph the movement to ensure your opponent puts up a defensive shield. Thunder roars and you bring down a particularly gentle beam of lightning crashing into his shield, which holds, but the force of impact sends him slamming into the floor, where he lays winded.

Above you, Sebastian calls the match, then gazes down at you fondly. He bites his lip and you just know his heart is racing from your display of power. It never fails. You feel warmth pool between your legs.

Reilly has struggled to his feet and declined his peers’ attempts to help him walk. You frown at the slight bruise forming on his cheek but he gives you a weak smile. He holds his hand out for you to shake, which you do. Then you frown at the growing wet feeling between your legs. You’d only ever felt that way about your husband.

As the wetness grows, you look down and see the front of your skirt is wet and it’s seeping into your socks and shoes. Then it clicks. Who knew all it took was a bit of lightning?

“Ah. The baby’s coming,” you say.

Reilly looks horrified. "What? Are you sure?" he shouts.

You nod. "Quite sure. Seb!" You call up to your husband. "We need to go to the hospital!"

Sebastian quickly makes his way to you. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Oh, no." You wave a hand. "The baby's coming, so we should head over before I get more fluids on the floor."

Sebastian pales. "The baby's coming??! Lead with that next time!"

You wrinkle your nose. "Next time? I'm not sure if I'm letting you do this to me again, this was not a fun experience."

"Just--!" Sebastian groans in frustration. "Let's go!" Sebastian ushers you to the nearest exit before you can say another word.

[in-class-daydreams]

Dear Husband (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian Sallow x Pregnant!Fem!Reader Synopsis: Pregnancy hormones have done something to your brain and you just can't get out of your husband's business. You're far past clingy at this point and your sweet husband is taking it like a champ. Alternatively: Preggy Brain Go Brrr TW: Slightly suggestive, but barely. Like on the spice scale, it's mayonnaise with a dash of paprika.

You have a big fat crush on your husband.

Yes, yes, he’s your husband, of course you have strong feelings for him, and you’d already developed a crush on him back at Hogwarts about three days into your fifth year. Obviously, that tingly feeling eventually developed into love, but this was different. You’ve long since fallen for him, but since he got you pregnant, you were just obsessed with the man.

Sebastian originally wanted to take more days off from the ministry due to you being with child, but you insisted that you were still three months out and didn’t need his constant presence just yet.. Though, you were beginning to regret that statement as you reclined on the couch, eating from the box of licorice spiders resting on your protruding stomach. If Baby Sallow was going to make you carry them, you figured you’re well within your rights to use them as a table. Licorice spiders were never your favorite, but your pregnancy made you crave the oddest of things, the licorice being one of them. And your sweet husband never complained about you decimating his stash of his favorite candy, not once.

Currently, your husband was busy in the kitchen cooking you breakfast before he went to work. His black dress shirt had the sleeves rolled up and his hair was only a bit more styled than he used to wear it as a student. You stuffed a handful of candy in your mouth and savored the chewy texture. Then you wondered to yourself if your child will look like him. They better not, if they’re going to make you round and make you push them out of your nethers. Then again, your husband is just so handsome you wouldn’t mind having a copy of him running around, but the problem is how you’d ever say no to either of them. It’s a dilemma to be sure.

“Are you comfortable, darling?” Sebastian asks. “I can bring more pillows from the bedroom if you’d like.”

You shake your head. He dotes on you plenty and while you’re quite sizable, you’d hardly consider yourself burdened with child just yet.

“Could you put the potatoes on the counter, please?” You rub your belly. “I don’t want to have to bend down for them later.”

“Of course.” Sebastian bends down and hoists the heavy bag onto the counter.

Confession time. You don’t have that problem at all. You are both a powerful witch and an ancient magic wielder, so you are more than capable of levitating as much as your entire house above your head. But if you did that, how could you watch your husband’s shirt tighten around his biceps?

You bite your lip watching him play both roles. Dressed as a breadwinner but doing domestic tasks. Cooking for you, making your shared bed, massaging your legs after dinner. You’d never admit this, but it’s empowering to have one of the most talented Aurors the ministry has ever seen at your beck and call.

That last thought is the final straw. You can’t take it any more. While his back is turned, you heft yourself up and approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his midsection. You bury your face in his back and nuzzle him like a cat.

“Hello to you, too,” Sebastian chuckles, moving to turn to face you, but you hold him still.

His scent is intoxicating, a mix of your laundry detergent, a little woodsmoke, and something else uniquely him. You used to wear his Slytherin jumper back in the day for his quidditch matches, and you’d bury your face in the sleeves when no one was looking.

Speaking of quidditch, Sebastian is a few years removed from the sport considering his busy career since graduation, but Imelda’s rigorous training regimen withstood the test of time in the form of your husband’s thick forearms and broad shoulders.

You run your hands from his toned stomach, up his sides, and over his pecs before retracing your pattern down to thick thighs in tight slacks. His line of work made it necessary for him to keep in shape and you thanked every being in existence for that.

Sebastian puts a hand over yours when you start tugging his tucked shirt out of his waistband.

“Keep that up and you’ll be having burnt toast for breakfast,” he warns.

You whine, shaking off his hand and digging your fingers under his shirt to trace the warm skin across his hips.

“What if I have a different meal in mind this morning?” You press yourself against him, to which his breath hitches and he shuts off the stove. He spins around in your arms and tries to say something only for you to plant kisses up and down his jaw and down the slope of his neck. Sebastian’s head tips back and he groans under your touch and you smile against his neck. He’s been weak to you for as long as you’ve known him, give or take a few days.

But when you undo a button of his waistcoat, he makes a strangled sound and stops you, breathing quickly.

“Believe me, I want this desperately, but I can’t be late today,” he says like it physically pains him.

You rest your head on his chest and look up at him with the trained doe eyes you use to get your way. What are you supposed to do? Let him leave the house looking like that without you getting your fill of him? Preposterous.

Sebastian looks towards the ceiling as if he was asking a deity for strength to deny you. Granted, that’s what it would take at this point, but when he looks back down at you with resolve, you wonder if it really is divine intervention or if you’re just losing your touch.

“Please, love, I need to compare notes with my temporary partner. She won’t like it if I’m late,” he reasons.

You pout. “Ominis would understand.”

“Yes, but only because he’s fond of you. If I was married to anyone else, he’d give me an earful for being late. Besides, he won’t be back for another few weeks.” Sebastian turns back to the stove and plates your food before handing it to you.

You take it reluctantly and grumble. “Stupid Ominis. Stupid Turkish dark wizard.”

Sebastian smiles and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. Then he bends at the waist and gives your bump a kiss as well.

“He’ll be back soon and then you can distract me before work as you please.” The thought is enough to placate you for the moment.

“Will you be in the office around noon? I’ll make you lunch,” you offer.

He confirms with another kiss. “I’ll see you then.”

Sebastian shrugs on his coat while you marvel at his delicious shoulder to hip ratio. If he wasn’t so prodigal with Auror work, he’d have made a fantastic model, you think. That would be a disaster in its own right, though, because the last thing you need is even more people oogling your husband.

On his way out the door, Sebastian looks at you over his shoulder and says, “But if you come by, we can’t shag in my office.”

Your jaw drops to the floor and you gasp in indignation.

“What! Why not?” you demand.

Sebastian sighs. “Because Baby Sallow makes it hard for me to bend you over the desk and, frankly, you’re not exactly quiet.”

“I’ll be quiet! I promise!” The thought of not getting your hands all over your husband until after his workday ended was turning your brain into mush. How on Earth could you survive that long? You nearly tear up at the idea. Ah, this must be the phase of pregnancy where your emotions are all over the place.

Sebastian closes the distance between you, laughing. “Wait a bit longer, and you won’t have to be quiet.” He whispers in your ear, “When I get home, I’ll make sure you can't be quiet if you try.”

At that, you shove him up against the door and kiss him senseless until he’s flushed and has to adjust himself in his pants before finally leaving for work.

~~

The next time Sebastian works from home, he’s at the dining table pouring over several thick files of documents. This was the type of work he was amazing at. Growing up with professors for parents and a natural love for reading (even if that love caused some issues back in the day) made him an excellent investigator and you so loved watching him work.

You dip a slice of green apple into your cup of molasses and take a bite. It was certainly? A flavor? But your pregnant body demanded it and so apples and molasses it would be.

“But the bank account was clean…” Sebastian mutters to himself.

You lean against the counter, head resting in your free hand like a blushing schoolgirl. You bite the tip of your thumbnail as you admire the man who mastered the Dark Arts by the end of sixth year. Sure, he was an Auror now and used his expertise for good, but it was even more impressive that he was so close to the point of no return and was able to pull himself back from the brink. He liked to say it was your love for him that brought him back, but you always replied that you only helped him find the strength he had all along.

“You’re staring.” 

You hum in pleasure at the sound of his deep voice. He has the same accent as most of the people around you, but his just makes you want to kick your feet and squeal.

“You’re so handsome,” you say dreamily.

Sebastian’s ears turn slightly pink. “Oh, well, I’m glad you think so. Thank you.”

You bite your lip. “I want to marry you.”

He barks out a surprised laugh, glancing at the gold band on his left ring finger. “I have good news for you.”

“I’d marry you a second time.”

Sebastian puts down the document he’s holding and eyes you.

“And a third.” You get up and make your way over to him to wrap your arms around his neck. Sebastian takes you in his arms as you continue. “Look at this face.” You trace constellations in his freckles with your eyes. “So handsome. Do you have any idea,” you gripe, “how many of our classmates would have done anything to have a chance with you?”

Swaying you both from side to side, Sebastian says, “Can’t say I recall. I was quite busy during my fifth year and on. Someone decided they wanted all my attention to themselves.” He kisses your nose.

“When quidditch season started back up in sixth year, it was impossible. You were walking around, getting bulkier by the day, wearing that damned uniform.” Tracing a finger up his chest, you continue to complain. “And I was just supposed to go on with my day and focus on lessons while the other girls were talking about how big and strong you’d gotten over the summer? Completely unfair.”

Sebastian grew several inches over the course of a few months and his development was not gradual. No, he went from boy to man almost overnight, and that, combined with his charming nature and sharp wit, made him a hot commodity sixth year and on.

Since being married to him, you’ve realized that what you saw at Hogwarts was nothing compared to what he would become. He was a cutie when you met him, and grew frustratingly attractive over the next few years, but Auror Sebastian? Your husband? He was outright handsome.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask sweetly, to which Sebastian immediately agrees. He’s never really been able to say no to you, has he?

“But it’s just a paper trail. Terribly dull without context,” he warns.

You nod your head in understanding. All you want is to be near him. When you move to the other side of the table to pull over a chair, he stops you and pulls out his wand. From there he shifts around the furniture so that the sofa is right next to the table so you can lounge near him.

“I love you, Seb.”

“And I, you.”

[in-class-daydreams]

Hogwarts Legacy

Sebastian Sallow

Graduation Gripes - Where the start of a new chapter of your life may entail ending an old one (Drabble)

Labours of Love - Where Sebastian hears you might be pregnant (Drabble)

Dress Code - Where you and Sebastian get called into your daughter's school over a short skirt (Drabble)

King of My Heart - HL if Sebastian had a real romance. How your love could pull him back from the brink (Series; Ongoing) [Pt. 1] [Pt. 2]

Dear Husband - Your pregnancy has put you in your clingy era (Drabble)

Oh Yeah, Baby! - Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you can't throw hands

Talking Terms - The incident with his uncle has left you and Sebastian in a tough spot with each other, but that doesn't mean it's permanent (Drabble)

My One and Only - In which you and Sebastian are forcibly made to be more involved with the Triwizard Tournament than you ever wanted to be.

Haikyuu

Kuroo Tetsurou

Parlay - Where you make a bet with your roommate Kenma (Series; Complete) [Masterlist]

Top Gun/Top Gun: Maverick

Bradley Bradshaw

No Regrets - Where after your father passes away, you are put on a mission with an old friend [Being updated]

[in-class-daydreams]

Graduation Gripes

Pairing: Seventh Year!Sebastian Sallow x Seventh Year!Fem!Reader (no Y/N) Synopsis. You and Sebastian have just completed your N.E.W.T.s. Now is the time for you to learn if you're qualified for your dream jobs. Sebastian, an Auror, and you, and Unspeakable. The only problem is, you've gotten into your own head and suddenly, your excitement and anticipation has turned to fear. A/N: Unedited, we ball. Fluff, angst, kinda cheesy. TW: None

“Are you ready?” Sebastian sat across from you in your favorite spot on the top floor of the library. He’d grown taller in the few years since you met him. Now in his final year, blessed genetics and  Imelda’s grueling quidditch practices saw him broad-shouldered and mature-faced with a more justified air of confidence to boot. 

In front of him were five unsealed letters and you, four unsealed and three sealed, all containing a letter grade for each of your N.E.W.T.s. Today, the two of you would learn your fates.

Naturally, your studious and intelligent boyfriend met all of the Auror requirements of high marks in five exams. The two of you had painstakingly gone over the requirements in the middle of last year.

The Unspeakable requirements were even more rigorous. Seven N.E.W.T.s, at least five O’s, two may be E’s. Upon hearing the requirements, Sebastian deemed it nearly impossible, and having taken the exams, you were inclined to agree. Though, back then, he’d said, “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

You stole a licorice spider from him and popped it in your mouth. They were still awful, but the chewing sensation was comforting. The results had already shown four O’s and one E. You could afford another E, but only one. 

You took a deep breath and slowly pried the wax seal off of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sebastian huffed a laugh through his nose, looking completely unsurprised when you unveiled an ‘Outstanding’ mark. 

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” he said with a cheeky grin. “You know, I love watching your crush exams with your eyes closed.”

“My eyes were open,” you deadpanned and placed the letter off to the side.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to your wrist. You loved this spot in the library because of the big open window to your right, which allowed the natural sunlight to beam down during your study sessions. That, and the light did wonders for Sebastian’s handsome side profile, from his now sharp jawline and the slope of his nose.

As you admired him, you thought about what it would be like if work kept you away from him for long. You’d been attached at the hip since you first bested him at a duel, and yes, you’d been alone your entire life, now that you’d tasted life with him, the thought of letting it go was devastating. You wondered if your constant hunger for “more” would jeopardize your relationship with the person you love most.

Professor Hecat, when you met her, looked to be well into her sixties. You’d come to find out later, while you were under her tutelage as a sixth year, she was hardly out of her thirties when you first arrived at Hogwarts. When she said she was “wounded by time itself,” you thought she meant naturally, the way time comes for all people. In reality, work as an Unspeakable strained the body in all ways - magical, emotional, physical - and sped up the aging process.

Your late mentor, Fig, if you knew him as well as you thought you did, surely would have preferred you choose an easier career path and live a long, happy life. Work in that sector of the Department of Mysteries, in his mind, just wouldn’t be fulfilling enough to justify the price.

You know yourself. You need to struggle, to fight. You always have. The lightning shooting down your spine and the burning in your chest was an addicting feeling you could never let go of, as if the thrill of battle had become so familiar, it was the only state you felt truly comfortable.

As such, almost every aspect of life as an Unspeakable appealed to you.

Almost.

You never cared much about your appearance. Good looks had nothing much to do about survival and why worry about something you can’t change anyway? Sebastian always said that was one of his favorite things about you, how you never cared about looks, which you thought was ironic considering how handsome your boyfriend had become.

But considering how lovely Sebastian was, if you looked a decade older than him two years after graduation, would he want to stay with you? Sebastian was never that shallow - something you loved about him, along with just about everything else about him - but truly, a handsome and successful Auror married to an aged Unspeakable he never gets to see? Could you expect that of him?

Second to last was Herbology, which was normally a deceivingly difficult subject, but your experience brewing your own potions in fifth year put you well ahead of where you needed to be. With those two factors combined, you scored yet another ‘Outstanding.’

“You’ve basically done it!” Sebastian cried. You still had one ‘Excellent’ mark left to fall back on, and in Sebastian’s mind, you just needed to seal the deal.

“Unless I scored worse than ‘Excellent,’” you said matter-of-factly.

The last subject was Ancient Runes, and as Sebastian tutored you in this subject as well, you already had a strong feeling as to what your score was.

Sebastian stared at you intently while you ripped open the last envelope and stared at its contents. He did his best to wait patiently, but the anticipation soon got the better of him.

“Well? You’ve done it?” He said it as if he was certain of your success. If you learned anything about him in your time together, it was that if there’s one thing he’s always believed in, it was you.

Knowing that, could you really let him go?

Your house robes were hanging on the back of your chair. You slipped a hand into the pocket and produced your wand, pointing it at the letter.

“Confringo,” you whispered. The page incinerated almost immediately and you pulled back before it singed your fingers.

Sebastian’s chair screeched when he shot to his feet. “What are you doing?!”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about it Sebastian.” Ditching your robe, you turned your face away and ran down the stairs back to the Slytherin dormitory.

You holed up in your dorm until evening, when Imelda came in and told you to “rein in your boyfriend, he’s insufferable without you.” A quick owl later and you were heading back into the empty library once again. With exams over, your fellow students took great pleasure in not needing to be in the library.

Sebastian met you downstairs on the first level. The familiar paper in his hand made your stomach drop. When you looked at him, ashamed, he tilted his head, insulted that you’d ever consider him incapable of fixing something so simple.

He held the paper out with one hand and flipped it, revealing the ‘Outstanding’ mark. You looked away, unable to face him.

“You did it,” he said simply.

“I did,” you agreed.

Sebastian shook his head. “This is amazing! You’ve achieved your dream, why aren’t you over the moon? We’ll both get to work with the Ministry–”

“Sebastian, we’d never get to see each other!” You looked at him desperately. “I’d never get to talk to you about work, our schedules would never line up, it would take an insane toll on my body!”

“You’ve known that this whole time. I thought you were fine with all those things?” He took a step towards you and you shrunk back. Your heart clenched from the hurt expression on his face. “I won’t force you, but you’ve wanted this for a long time now. I don’t understand what changed.”

What changed? Well, you wouldn’t have been sorted into Slytherin if you weren’t ambitious. But at the same time, Fig and Sebastian were your first real family. You spent your entire life alone and you were terrified that if you became an Unspeakable, the clandestine nature of the job would drive you and your only family apart.

“I don’t know, Seb, I don’t know if I can do this,” you said miserably.

“Darling.” Sebastian came and took you by the hands. “There’s not a thing in this world you can’t do. I know that and you know that. So give me an honest answer. What are you hesitating for?”

Your eyes felt hot. “I don’t want anything to happen to us.”

Sebastian stared at you in shock. “Why would anything happen?”

You wiped furiously at your eyes and buried your face in his chest. “I don’t know! It’s stupid, I’m just scared, Seb! We have so many plans for the future and what if we can’t do any of them because of my job?” Eyes clenched shut, you whispered, “I just don’t want to lose you.” 

You weren’t sure what exactly you expected out of him, but the deep rumble of his laughter wasn’t it. You looked up to him smiling down at you with tender love in his eyes.

“My love.” He tilted your chin up to look at him. “Plans can change.”

“But you’ve been through so much. Don’t you want someone you’ll actually be able to see on a regular basis? I might not be able to bear children if the work takes a toll on me, you could never ask about my work–”

Sebastian pressed his forehead to yours. Still holding your hands, he slowly drifted down onto one knee. He looked up at you with glassy warm brown eyes and you covered your mouth.

“I don’t know if I’ll be brave enough to say this twice, so please listen. I would kill or die for you. At the risk of incriminating myself, I’ve done or come close to both.” He reached into his pocket and produced a gold ring with swirling designs around the band. “I went back to my uncle’s house. Tore it apart to find this, and just as I figured, he had my mother’s wedding ring. It was her most prized possession and I want you to have it.”

Your eyes welled with tears and you let out a shuddering breath. “Sebastian…”

“Our careers be damned, I’d rather see you once a year than be with someone else every day. I need you to know. There’s nobody else. Just you alone. Will you marry me?”

[in-class-daydreams]

do you have a taglist ? :))

Uhhhh short answer is not right now. I kinda just. Suck at keeping up. I really appreciate the fact that some of y’all want one so ill try again but disclaimer that I’m all over the place

[in-class-daydreams]

Not even a little fandom related but I made this and needed to share my genius

[in-class-daydreams]

King of My Heart (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader Chapter 2: I Did Something Bad Synopsis: Hogwarts Legacy if Sebastian's Relationship Quest was the main quest. A telling of the in-between, the late nights sneaking around the castle after curfew, sitting on the second floor of the library listening to Sebastian ramble about a book he read, stealing cubes of melon off his plate during breakfast. How we got from "not bad for a beginner" to "there was nobody else, I came alone" to "no matter what happens, I'm glad we met." Alternatively: How your love could pull Sebastian Sallow back from the brink. Told in the style of Percy Jackson, in first-person and with sarcasm. A/N: Post troll attack at Hogsmeade. Some canon-divergent plot about MC's past, and the library incident, only flirtier. TW: Mild blood, canon-typical violence

First | Next

I tasted iron in my mouth. I wasn’t sure what I was going for when I landed that final strike on the troll, but even I could not have anticipated this result. Not only was the troll defeated, but there wasn’t a trace of flesh or bone or blood left. The only indication that it existed at all was the cratered stone and broken debris littering the square.

Hot, thick liquid made my left eye burn. I shut it and wiped my brow with the back of my hand, and grimaced at the red streak across it. How inconvenient.

Sebastian stumbled over to me, reaching out to grip me by the upper arms.

“Are you alright?” he asked. I could hardly hear him. My ears were still ringing from the troll’s ear splitting roars.

“Me?” I asked incredulously. “Are you alright? I just saw you get tossed like a ragdoll!”

Before Seabstian could say anything, I saw how one of his hands trembled. I grabbed him by the wrist and gently rolled the sleeve of his robes down his arms. A long, bloody gash ran down the length of his forearm. I hissed.

“I’m sorry. I was so focused on the troll that I wasn’t looking out for you. I’ll be more careful next time,” I told him. I looked up at him. His face was flushed red and he couldn’t meet my eyes. Poor thing. He had every right to be upset and traumatized. I pointed my wand at his arm.

“Episkey!” I smiled to myself when his skin seamlessly knit itself back together.

“You’re sorry? That was amazing!” Sebastian said when he pulled his arm away from me. “Where did you learn to do that?”

I shrugged. “It just happened.”

Sebastian scoffed. “‘It just happened,’ she says like it was nothing. Are you joking? That was–”

The officer from before jogged up. In the wake of the adrenaline coursing through me, much of the ensuing conversation was a blur.

***

If getting used to a new school wasn’t difficult enough, I continued to deal with goblin rebellions, poachers, and my newfound ancient magic. Professor Fig did his best. He’d gifted me a packet of sweets every once and a while and reminded me to enjoy my time at Hogwarts despite all that was going on with the Keepers.

I was on my way to the Great Hall when I was summoned to his office. I knocked on the door and let myself in.

“You sent for me, Professor Fig? I thought you’d have left by now?”

He looked up with a severe look on his face. An open letter - among several loose documents - lay across his desk.

“Ah, there you are. Have a seat.” He gestured to the plush chair in front of his desk.

I obliged. “Is everything alright?”

Professor Fig looked troubled. The deep lines in his face seemed more pronounced.

“It’s to do with your enrollment.” The fear must have shown on my face when he quickly backtracked. “Considering your great affinity for magic and the fact that the orphanage has no records regarding your birth, the school and, well, the ministry has requested a blood test. For purity and for your birth family.”

The professor’s words lingered and I allowed them to sink in. My tongue tasted of iron and I continued to bite down.

“A blood test.”

Professor Fig nodded. “Yes. This could be a good thing, you know.”

“They want to know if I’m a pureblood.” It wasn’t a question. Fig seemed to realize that as well. He responded with a simple nod of his head.

“And what would that do? Would I be disenrolled if I was a muggle-born?” I demanded.

“No, no! I imagine it’s for record keeping, among other things. This will not disrupt your studies, I assure you–”

“If it doesn’t change anything, why do I need to do it? I don’t care about my biological family. Even if they wanted to meet me, the only family I know is you.” I wasn’t being fair. It wasn’t Fig that was asking for a blood test. Can you blame me though? How many orphans enjoy talking about their lineage?

Professor Fig’s gaze softened. He came around the desk and held my hand in his own. Miriam wasn’t an easy topic for him, but he always said that she and I shared a similar fire within us, though I doubt I could live up to someone he spoke of so reverently. The orphanage was never really a home for me and I imagined when Miriam died, Fig’s sense of home died with her. The two of us helped each other in that regard and no blood test was going to change that.

“Sorry,” I said quietly.

Fig smiled. “Whatever for?”

I smacked my thighs with my hands. “Alright, let’s get the headmaster off your back. What do you need from me?”

Fig produced a thick envelope. When opened, a short, simple blade poked out from within the parchment.

“The blade is enchanted with a healing charm, so cut yourself quickly and it will seal–”

I grabbed the blade and squeezed. The steel bit into my hand painfully. My thick red blood ran down the blade and was absorbed by some sort of enchantment within the parchment. My skin and flesh knitting back together when I pulled back was an odd sensation.

“Is that enough?” I asked.

“More than. You worry me at times,” Fig said and sealed the envelope. I shrugged. Physical pain was temporary.

As he made the preparations to send the envelope with an owl, I worried my lip between my teeth.

“Professor?” I asked.

“Yes, my young friend?”

On one hand, I wanted to ask this to his face. On the other hand, I was grateful he was turned away. I might not have had the courage to ask otherwise.

“If my biological family doesn’t want me or has passed away...” I could do this. Fig was a good man, he wouldn’t scoff at the request. Reject it, perhaps, but he would do so kindly. “...might I take your last name? Mine doesn’t mean anything to me. I would like it to.”

My guardian stood stock still. When he finally faced me, his eyes were misty.

“My dear, I would be honored.”

It took him a moment to remember his previous task and we sat in teary silence for a few moments more. As soon as the letter was with the owl flying away, Fig shooed me out of his office.

“Go on, have some free time. Spend some time with that young boy all the teachers have said you are fond of.”

My jaw dropped. “All the teachers, what? We went to Hogsmeade once!”

“I hear you wait for each other at the end of each class to walk to the next one.”

“We share several classes! Sebastian is–” I made my best unimpressed face at the sight of Fig’s amused expression. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you.” 

“I would never,” he said, not at all convincing. “But I’d like the record to state, I never said a name.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Give Sebastian my best!”

“I’m not going to see Sebastian!”

I plopped down beside Sebastian in the Great Hall. Ominis had a class around this time, which left me and Sebastian to entertain each other.

“Would you rather have two left feet or two left hands?” Sebastian asked through a mouthful of bread.

I hummed and chewed on my stew. “Two left feet for sure.”

“Seriously? You’re mad.”

Nose scrunched, I reasoned, “If I wear shoes most of the time, no one will notice.”

“Left shoes look different, though.”

“I would get a special shoe that looks like a right shoe but has the innards of a left shoe.”

“The innards.”

“The innards. What would you choose, then?”

Sebastian clucked his tongue. “Feet.”

“You just like to argue with me, Sallow!” I exclaimed.

“It’s not my fault! You make it so easy!” he retorted.

I flicked his ear. Or tried to. He dodged and raised an arm. Him being taller, I gave up after promising myself I’d catch him by surprise later.

“So,” he said. Sebastian stirred his stew like it would be no good if he didn’t. “You promised me an explanation for what happened in the Three Broomsticks. Not many students have–” his voice lowered to a whisper “--Victor Rookwood’s attention.”

I snorted through my nose. Looking at him through a sideways glance, I made a show of looking at all the students in the Great Hall.

“Here? Now?” I questioned.

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m impatient.”

Sebastian slid across the short gap between us until his thigh was pressed up against mine. He turned his head until his mouth was a hair’s breadth from my shoulder.

“Alright, go ahead.”

I rolled my eyes and mimicked his position.

“Alright, fine. So, it seems he’s working with Ranrok and Ranrok is looking for something I found at Gringotts.”

“Ranrok?!” Sebastian shouted over the din loud enough for more than a few heads to turn.

For someone so sneaky, the boy needed to learn to shut his mouth. I huffed and yanked him by the arm up and out of the Great Hall.

By the time we were in a secluded part of the hallway, I looked back to find him crunching on an apple he must have snatched. Food was always at the front of Sebastian’s mind. Sometimes I wondered if it was right up there with his sister.

“Would you keep it down?!” I scolded him.

“This is a lot to process! When were you at Gringotts?” he whisper-yelled.

My temples throbbed. It was a long story I wasn’t in the mood for. Granted, all this was a first for Sebastian, so I had to be patient. “Professor Fig and I ended up there after the dragon attack. Fig had this portk–”

“Portkey? To Gringotts? I’m not sure I follow,” Sebastian said in disbelief.

I gave him a deadpan look. “You might follow better if you let me finish.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “You try listening to all this in silence! The commentary helps me process.”

“You can process and talk at the same time?”

“I must talk to process.”

The throbbing at my temples intensified and I massaged them gently.

“Fine, I get it. I barely follow myself and I was there. Anyway, we ended up in an ancient vault where we found a map. That map led to the Restricted Section.”

Sebastian shook his head, looking overwhelmed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly serious,” I assured him. “Professor Fig has insisted that I not tell a soul about any of this. I’ve probably said too much.” I looked him in the eye to make sure he got the message.

My classmate nodded sagely. Not that I expected anything less.

“Understood. Your secret’s safe with me. Whatever it is.” He eyed me curiously.

“Thank you, Sebastian.” I paused to make him wait in suspense. No harm in having a little fun and mystery even with dire circumstances. Sebastian seemed the type to appreciate it. Sure enough, he caught my tone and watched me with interest.

“You mentioned being clever enough not to get caught in the Restricted Section?” We gave each other knowing stares.

“And I am,” he said, catching my meaning right away. I liked that about him so far. He was always good at reading between the lines. “Meet me outside the library tonight. And tell no one.”

“Just so I know what we’re getting into, what happens if we’re caught in the Restricted Section? Will we get sent to wizard jail? Forced to launder the librarian’s drawers?” I asked.

Sebastian laughed. “Azkaban would be a safe haven compared to the latter option. But no. No life sentences. Just detention. But don’t take that lightly. You’ll get tinnitus from repotting mandrakes for hours if you do.”

“That’s very specific.”

“I like to specify.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“It’s a date.”

‘Tonight’ came quickly and I strolled down the stairs to find Sebastian leaning backwards against the railing. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me down to stoop. We approached the edge of the balcony.

In hushed tones, Sebastian whispered, “See there?” He pointed to a red door with a triangular design over it. “That’s the door we need to reach.”

I spotted a pair of prefects not three feet from the door. Already this seemed like a big ask for mine and Sebastian’s young friendship.

He continued, “Those annoying prefects would love nothing more than to rat on us to Scribner, so don’t let them see us. Understood?”

An orphan remaining unseen? Please. Don’t insult me.

“I can be sneaky.” My plan was already forming in my head. I would even use magic to enhance my existing strategies. A suit of metal armor stood on the opposite wall. Perfect noise making opportunity. Basic cast would do the trick. “Let’s go.”

Before I could set us into motion, Sebastian stopped me.

“Hold on, now. There’s a spell you should know. The disillusionment charm. Good for getting places you’re not supposed to be.” The look in his eye would make any authority figure nervous. “Cast it, and you’ll appear as little more than a trick of the light. Just as long as you keep your distance and stay quiet.”

I blinked. Right. Magic was almost limitless. I had almost forgotten how recent my entry into this world really was. Of course there was an invisibility spell.

“You mean, I’ll actually be able to turn invisible?” I asked in awe.

Sebastian’s dimples made an appearance. “Something like that. It’s not as foolproof as a cloak, but those are expensive. And spells?” He nudged my side. “Spells are free.”

Free is the best price, I always say.

We backed away from the rail slightly and Sebastian showed me the wand movement. It allowed light to pass through an entire person, so it was understandably more complicated than levioso. Still, it wasn’t all that hard.

“Like this?” I asked and mimicked the wand movement. A burst of wind rushed past my face and I couldn’t see myself. I was glad Sebastian couldn’t see the silly grin on my face at a job well done.

Sebastian looked stunned. “That’s– That’s exactly it.” Then he mumbled something about ‘first try’ before casting the spell on himself. He disappeared and I reached out for him. My hand brushed what must’ve been his shoulder.

“Careful, I don’t want to lose track of you,” I said. When he didn’t move or react, I reached out another hand. “Sebastian?”

My target was his other shoulder. Instead I caught somewhere closer to his neck. I slid a hand up the side of his neck to his face.

“You’re burning up,” I said and placed the back of my hand against his forehead.  “We

can do this another day if you’re not feeling up to it.”

An unseen force batted my hand away.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.” Sebastian sounded strained but was already dragging me by the hand down the steps.

The two of us made it through the red door without incident. At the bottom of the ensuing staircase, I eased the next door open and was met with an older woman with white hair in a sharp bun at the top of her head. I froze.

“Blast. The librarian’s still here!” Sebastian whispered. “Quick! Behind the bookcase!”

We hid pressed up against the bookcase so that even if she was in line with it, between the angle and the spell, she wouldn’t be able to see us.

The severity of the situation caught up with me since we passed the prefects. I was no goody-goody, but this was more serious rule-breaking.

“You told me the librarian would be gone by now!” I did my best to keep my voice down.

“I said ‘usually’!” Sebastian said. “But it’ll be alright.”

Our joined hands were starting to get clammy. I’d hardly pulled mine back to wipe it on my robes when he recaptured it.

“See the desk on the back wall?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ The key is in a drawer of that desk. Now, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll create a distraction to draw her away. You focus on getting the key. I’ll meet you outside the Restricted Section.”

I was expecting to be the planner and for him to give guidance every now and again. Now that he was delegating tasks, I found myself face to face with his area of expertise.

“What’s wrong?” His voice sounded much closer than before.

“Nothing!” I ignored the loud thudding of my heart that threatened to give us away.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing. We can still–”

“Do we even need a key? Isn’t there a spell for this?” I prayed for him to be drawn by the subject change.

“Alohomora. That’s how I always used to get in.” Sebastian went on about the spell and his nemesis, Scribner. Meanwhile, I took that moment to gather myself and draw my own attention away from the self-satisfied way he said ‘alohomora.’ Focus, me. 

“Don’t worry. I said I’d get you in, and I always keep my word. Trust me.”

Trust Sebastian? Orphans don’t trust easy. At least, not from the place I grew up in, but damn it, I had already told him about Ranrok and the portkey and Fig’s involvement. To my surprise and annoyance, I had been trusting him long before I even realized it.

“You distract, I get the key. Easy as pie,” I said.

“I knew I liked you.” And with that, Sebastian’s hand slipped out of mine and he was gone.

Not thirty seconds later, there was a minor commotion on the other side of the library. Scribner pushed her thick glasses up her nose and stalked off in that direction. I snuck behind the desk and blanched. In hindsight, I should have asked Sebastian which drawer it was, because there were at least a dozen.

I found what looked like a Restricted Section key on my fifth try. I opened two more drawers for good measure and found another clandestine-looking key.

Shit.

In doubt, I grabbed both and made a beeline for the Restricted Section. In hindsight again, I should have checked with Sebastian where exactly that was. Luckily, I wasn’t a completely incompetent fool.

Unable to contain my excitement, I rushed to the gated section. In my haste, I knocked into an invisible force. We knocked heads with a loud ‘clack.’ If anyone had been nearby, they’d have heard twin sets of muffled groans.

“Ow! Damn!” Sebastian hissed.

“Are you alright?” I groped around in the empty space for him. What I found was his fluffy hair. It was quite soft. He took my hand back while I unlocked the gate and we stole in.

To our right, there was an elaborate book with a green jewel on top of an end table. Sebastian tugged me along when I stopped to investigate.

“That one’s charmed to look more useful than it is. It’s fooled me twice now. Never judge a tome by its cover, I say.”

“I wasn’t fooled,” I said more to ease the tension than out of indignation.

“Sure. Whatever you say.” Sebastian’s smile was clear in his voice.

Us two made our way through, dodging ghosts and creating distractions as needed. It was great fun, to plan and carry out a clandestine operation such as this. This was the kind of thing I always wanted to do, but never could because my ass was always on the line. At least, not in this way.

“Should be in the clear now.” Sebastian reappeared beside me. “No need for us to be skulking about.”

“Wouldn’t it be wise to remain invisible, just in case?” I reasoned.

“What, are you scared?”

I huffed and revealed myself.

“So, what is it you’ve been looking for?” I asked.

“I’m looking for a cure to help my twin sister, Anne - so that she can return to Hogwarts.” Sebastian sounded more serious than I’d ever heard him. Something about him seemed tired. Older than he was supposed to be. I’d seen that look on others before. “Because Merlin knows everyone else has given up.”

I could put two and two together. “She’s more than ill, isn’t she?” I asked softly.

Sebastian clenched his jaw. “Yes.”

I didn’t pry. Sibling bonds were a type of love I would never get to experience. Surely, it was one of the most powerful forms of love in existence, and I wasn’t about to press Sebastian on it.

“I imagine you’ve tried almost everything.” The way Sebastian treated it, it seemed like his search for a cure was exhaustive.

“Right again. We’ve tried everything from Nurse Blainey to St. Mungo’s.” Then he seemed to catch himself. “But, I can research on my own. No need to concern yourself with that right now. Let’s focus on what you’re after.”

I frowned. “Fine, but when we’re done with that, we’re going to do research for your sister.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Sebastian eyed me warily.

“Everyone’s given up?”

He bit his lip. “Except me, I suppose.”

“And me, now. It’s settled, we’re a team now. In dueling, too, so we’re now ‘supreme partners in doing things that need to be done,’ but since that’s a mouthful, we’ll come up with a better team name later.” I stuck a hand out towards him.

Sebastian looked at me in disbelief. Soon, his face broke out in a bright smile. We shook hands.

“Deal. Now, what precisely are you looking for?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” Something so ancient and magical and important had to be easy to spot, right?

“You’re being awfully cryptic,” Sebastian complained.

“I like to be mysterious,” I replied.

“You don’t really know, do you?” he deadpanned.

“Don’t fret, Sallow, I have a plan.”

“Merlin, she has no idea.”

“Sebastian!” I swatted him on the arm.

The stairs led to what looked like a basement. No one had been down there for years, it seemed.

“Tell me, why were you late for dinner earlier?” Sebastian asked.

Whilst I sifted around the clutter in case there was an artifact laced with ancient magic, I replied, “Professor Fig summoned me.”

“What for?”

I figured he deserved something in return for being so honest with me about his sister.

“The Headmaster and the ministry have demanded a blood test from me,” I said, trying my best to sound casual. I should have known there was no fooling Sebastian.

“A blood test? Wouldn’t your parents have…” he trailed off. “You don’t–”

“Have parents? No.” We came upon a giant suit of armor, broken and scattered, blocking the way forward. I turned to my partner in crime. “It’s not so bad. I never had them to begin with, so it’s not as if I feel a great loss. Not a specific one, anyway.”

Sebastian stood by my side. When did our hands become intertwined once more?

“I’m sorry. At least that’s yet another thing we have in common, though I had some time to get to know my parents.”

That information sunk in. Poor Sebastian. No wonder he was working so hard to save his sister. I turned to face him.

“Oh, Sebastian, I’m so sorry. I–”

A shrill, mocking voice cut me off in a singsong. “Who have we here?” A gaudily-dressed, translucent being emerged through the wall. “Sebastian Sallow and his new little friend, out exploring where they shouldn’t be!” The poltergeist waggled a finger. “Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty!” He floated off towards the main library.

“Peeves, don’t you–” Sebastian said in a low voice.

“Caughty?” I wrinkled my nose.

“I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell!” Peeves chanted.

This was not good.

“Ugh!” Sebastian growled. “Blasted Peeves! I’ve got to stop him, or at least get to the librarian with a good excuse for all of this.” He set off in the direction Peeves went.

Him? No way!

“Wait!” I tightened my grip on his hand. “I don’t want you getting into trouble for me.”

He waved me off.

“I have a way with the faculty when it comes to disciplinary matters.”

“I thought you said you have a long detention record.” I said dryly.

“It would be longer if I was any worse at what I do. Besides, I like having friends that are in my debt.” He patted our joined hands with his opposite one and then let go.

I sighed and released him. “Fine, but don’t do anything drastic! We can’t have them tightening security and making it harder for us to come back to find a cure for Anne.”

Sebastian looked at me like I’d grown a second head. After a moment, he smiled and shook his head, placing his hands on his hips.

“That eager to spend time with me again? Good. I’m not a fan of ‘hard-to-get.’”

I turned my back on him and took out my wand to remove the obstruction in my path.

“Forget it! Serve detention until graduation for all I care.” When he laughed behind me, I turned back and added, “And don’t lie. I bet ‘hard-to-get’ is just your type.” I waved my wand. “Reparo!”

“Interested in my type, are you?”

“La, la, la, I can’t hear you!” I called back while running down the forward hallway, his chuckles fading as we parted ways.

[in-class-daydreams]

addendum: anyone can interact with me always, the only catch is you'll never be rid of me

hey if we’re mutuals you can literally interact w me whenever. send me whatever u want i will probably be very excited

[in-class-daydreams]

Labours of Love (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader (no Y/N) Synopsis. The day Sebastian Sallow learns he's going to be a father. A prequel of sorts to 'Dress Code.' A/N: I am obsessed with girl dad Seb, so here's the events leading up to it. (Seb's still an auror here, it just doesn't come up) TW: None this time

“Sebastian, I think I might be pregnant!” you blurted out.

You stood in the bathroom doorway facing your husband, who was in your shared bedroom fiddling with his cuffs.

When the two of you first started dating and you were having the typical romance fantasies teens have, you envisioned announcing your pregnancy with more ceremony. A cake, a Slytherin baby onesie, you know - something cuter than busting out of the bathroom on a random Tuesday while Sebastian was trying to get ready for work.

“Huh?” Sebastian said intelligently. His waistcoat was still unbuttoned and he hadn’t combed his hair yet. There was a little stubble lining his jaw, which you’ve never had complaints about, but he preferred to keep clean-shaven.

His face was unmoving and you could see the cogs in his brain turning. Said cogs seemed to be sticky and emitting smoke, but moving nonetheless.

You took a deep breath.

“My period’s late and I’ve been sick the last few days,” you explained. “The math checks out.”

Sebastian’s breath came quicker. He looked at you like a scared mooncalf.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

You shook your head. “There’s a vial in the drawer. Will you get it for me?”

The request isn’t even fully out of your mouth before your husband basically dives for the dresser and digs around for the one vial he doesn’t really recognize. It’s about the size of his index finger and halfway filled with cloudy gray liquid.

“What do you want to drink with it? Water, milk, juice? Anything, love, just say the word.” Each of Sebastian’s words had increasingly shorter pauses between them. He kept shifting his weight about.

“No, it’s not for drinking.” You started to hesitate, but remembered his knowledge of your bodily fluids was what got you here in the first place. “I have to pee into this vial.”

Sebastian stared.

“Oh. Alright, then.” His warm hands planted on your shoulder and hip and guided you further into the bathroom where he sat you down on the toilet. When he kneeled in front of you, you shouted and pushed at his shoulders.

“What are you doing down there?” you cried.

“Holding the vial,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Give it here.” He held his hand out for it, to which you clutched it in your hand tighter.

“What kind of aim do you think I have? I don’t want you to get pee on your–”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, “I don’t care about that, I’ve had my hands in all kinds of places on you.”

You leaned forwards and held his face in your hands. “Sebastian, my love, my husband, potential father of my child, I appreciate the sentiment, but I can’t pee with you that close to my body. You can stay in here, just turn around.”

When you let go, Sebastian huffed, but did as you said.

“Since when were you piss-shy?”

“Say ‘pee,’ Seb.”

“Piss off.” He glanced back. “How do we know what’s what?”

“It will take several minutes, but if the liquid turns clear, I’m pregnant. Black, I’m not. Alright, all done.”

Sebastian whirled around just as you were covering up. Once again, he carefully guided you back to the bedroom as if you were already gravid with child.

“I might be pregnant, not feeble,” you told him.

“Better to err on the side of caution,” he replied.

You gave him a bewildered look. “Since when have you ever done that?”

He kneeled in front of you and eyed the unchanged pregnancy test as if giving it an evil look would speed up the results.

“Since you became pregnant.”

“Possibly pregnant, and even if I am, the baby would maybe be blueberry-sized. Me walking around won’t hurt it.” You placed a hand on your belly. Thoughts of your little blueberry made a smile spread across your face.

Your husband laughed. “I’m not worried about that baby right now.”

Gasping, you shouted, “Sebastian!”

“What? I’m not. It’s safe and warm inside you. Me, I’m worried about my wife and the nine months she’s going to have to grow a human inside her.” His expression turned tender, and your heart swelled with love. The butterflies you felt when you were fifteen running around the restricted section with him at Hogwarts came back as they did every day you were with him.

His warm hand closed around yours and turned the vial towards him. Your husband frowned at the cloudy gray.

“Why is it taking so long?” Sebastian shook your joined hands and the color began to shift.

The two of you watched with bated breath as the once cloudy liquid cleared and lost all color.

You covered your mouth and Sebastian let out a shuddering sigh. He buried his face in your stomach.

“We’re having a child together,” he whispered. His voice broke. “I’m going to be a father.”

Tears sprung to your eyes. You nodded and ran your hand through his soft chestnut hair.

“It was always going to be you. There was nobody else,” you said softly.

Sebastian chuckled wetly. “Funny. I loved you long before that time in the library.”

“I remember you telling me that first day in Hecat's class sealed the deal for you.” Despite your teasing, your tone was warm and fond.

"You were electric. I'd never been so enraptured with someone before," your beloved husband replied. "I could only ever picture you as my wife from that day on."

You hugged him tighter. Words were insufficient thanks for the extent of his love for you.

When he pressed his ear to you, you reminded him how small the baby was - how it was hardly more than a clump of cells. Sebastian continued listening for something. He moved higher to the middle of your chest.

“I’m not listening for the baby. I want to hear you.”

While Sebastian listened to your heartbeat, you were sure that he could hear the rhythm pick up. For someone so reckless and stubborn when you met him, in your quiet moments, he said the most heart-stopping things.

You pulled him up to face-level and planted a kiss on his lips. He stayed half-knelt, looking up at you with reverence. You knew that look well. It was the only one he'd ever given you since you met. In all your hardships, in all your crazy adventures, Sebastian's gaze was always as if the stars in the sky rearranged themselves just to please you.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your lips.

You thought that should be your line. He squeezed you tighter.

“For everything,” he added. “Absolutely everything.”

[in-class-daydreams]

@rypnami me @ you like yesterday

fav activity: staring at a mutual's post trying to think of a non extremely weird way to respond to better befriend them

[in-class-daydreams]

Sebastian Sallow makes huge babies send tweet

[in-class-daydreams]

King of My Heart (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader Chapter 1: ...Ready for It? Synopsis: Hogwarts Legacy if Sebastian's Relationship Quest was the main quest. A telling of the in-between, the late nights sneaking around the castle after curfew, sitting on the second floor of the library listening to Sebastian ramble about a book he read, stealing cubes of melon off his plate during breakfast. How we got from "not bad for a beginner" to "there was nobody else, I came alone" to "no matter what happens, I'm glad we met." Alternatively: How your love could pull Sebastian Sallow back from the brink. Told in the style of Percy Jackson, in first-person and with sarcasm. A/N: Starting a new project without finishing the old ones, are we, Aya? Yes. Yes, we are. TW: A lil swearing

Listen, I never wanted to be a witch.

I apologize to all of you romantics who think that the whole thing - Hogwarts, ancient magic, regular magic, being British, fantastic beasts - is all about feeding puffskeins and brewing amortentia. Might I add that the love potion is a bastard to brew, because if it was that easy, it wouldn’t be the most powerful love potion in existence, would it? That, and it’s somewhat unsettling. I, for one, do not always smell like jasmine and citrus. And during my fifth year at Hogwarts especially, I was constantly running through spider-infested caves and fighting dugbogs, and if my soulmate or whoever caught a whiff of that smell, they just might retch.

Speaking of my fifth year, I started off that year like any other new student entering a boarding school where everyone else already knew each other: terrified beyond measure. Of course, I made sure to never let Professor Fig see that. Not that I didn’t trust him, but I was determined to never let him see me slip. Not when he was the only person who ever believed in me.

After everything that happened on the way to Hogwarts from dragons to goblins (I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about that, right? ) I expected a bit… more? For lack of a better term. I arrived at the Sorting Ceremony late, nearly had an aneurysm on that stool with all those eyes on me, nervously chattered with the magic hat, and sat there, willing myself not to fidget too much.

I sat there feeling like I was somehow sitting incorrectly when the Hat hummed to himself (itself?) and made general thoughtful sounds. He spoke of how I arrived with expectations and preconceptions, and perhaps he was right, though I cared less about the house I’d be put in and more about not standing out too much.

“Ah, a difficult decision, indeed. It is quite different, sorting a fifth-year. You know more about the world and less about yourself than a first-year. And yet, you have a certain sense of – hmm – what is it?”

“Is it ambition?” I offered quietly. “I may seem single-minded, but it is important to go after what you want from life.”

The Sorting Hat made another indecipherable grunting sound.

“Is that how you see yourself, child? Not my first impression, to be frank, but other factors considered, I’ve made my choice. Between the two of us… You would have done well in Gryffindor.”

Would have?

I might have dwelled on the passing statement further had the Sorting Hat not interrupted my thoughts.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Slytherin in all caps! Honestly, I understand that he shouts for the benefit of the enormous room, but the ringing in my ears lingered long after I got it off my head.

I expected a sleepless night after that. I lay in an unfamiliar bed and my mind kept replaying the day’s events like a moving picture show. Behind my eyelids, I kept seeing the carriage crack in half, the swift appearance of the thestrals soon after. My first thought was that they allowed themselves to be seen until I realized they appeared to people who had seen death. I may not have seen the blood and limbs disappear down the dragon’s throat, but I had seen death that day. Looked it in the eye. Watched it wink at me and stick its tongue out as if to say, “If I wanted you, I’d have you.”

I don’t know when I slipped into a dreamless sleep, but before I knew it, it was morning. I blinked my dry eyes and sat up to take in the large, circular room around me. It was neat, thankfully. I didn’t know much about wizard boarding schools, but they sure took color-coding very seriously. From green tapestries to green four-poster beds, at least I would never stumble into the wrong dorm.

I quickly noticed I was alone and, not wanting to be the odd one out even more than I already was, I put on my school uniform. Not to sound uncultured, but I had never had such fine clothing before. Not new, anyway. It took me a while to figure out how to layer everything to sit just right. Placing a hand on my trunk, I took a last look at the ugly yellow coat I wore exactly once. I would never touch it again. Not because it was ugly, but because it was Professor Fig’s present to me. The school had provided school supplies and the like, but Fig took it upon himself to give me something just for me. Color be damned, it was the most beautiful thing I owned.

I stood up from the bed and smooth out my new robes, not a patch or stain to be seen. Taking a deep breath, I made myself a set of goals for the day. Step 1, have your uniform on correctly. From what I could tell, my vest wasn’t on backwards and my skirt wasn’t tucked into my waistband, so I could reasonably consider my first task a success. Step 2, introduce myself to someone. No, Slytherins were ambitious, I would introduce myself to three people minimum. I grimaced at the prospect. But no matter, I had already thought the new number into existence, so three it would be.

Even the hallway was fancy. It had elaborate metal railings on the way to the common room. Crossing the threshold, I reminded myself not to pull a face at the much more crowded than anticipated common room.

Back straight, chin up, shoulders relaxed. Play mysterious, but approachable, I told myself. Starting at that moment, I would begin building my reputation however I pleased. I was a blank slate and I’d be damned if I let such an opportunity go to waste.

“Is that the new fifth year?” someone essentially stage whispered.

“The one that came in late with Professor Fig?” another said.

I resisted the urge to turn and run back into my room. Gossip was apparently popular anywhere. I didn’t know how I could ever have thought otherwise.

“Wow, she’s–” A boy to my right cut himself off when his friend nudged him with his elbow. A moment later, a girl chastised everyone and suggested they give me space. Of course, all this happened as if I couldn’t hear them, but I appreciated the bossy girl immensely.

It was time for me to get on with my self-imposed to-do list and introduce myself to some people. I gave myself some leeway by excluding the rumor-mongers from my list of candidates. There was a boy with a book by the fire, whom I made a beeline for.

Damn, I thought to myself, he’s reading. Why would you walk up to one of the only actively occupied people in the room? To my further dismay, as I got closer I heard the boy muttering to his book, annoyed. Actively occupied and agitated. Excellent choice, I thought. While I racked my brains for an excuse to abruptly change course this close, the boy looked up and snapped his book shut, placing it on the couch beside him. The fireplace to my left did nothing to keep my hands from getting clammy.

“Can I help you?” the boy asks testily.

Here we go.

On the bright side, he didn’t have to put down his book just to talk to me, so that was a good sign. Maybe he was just one of those people that sounded annoyed all the time. Yeah. That.

“Ah!” he said, the furrow in his brow and frosty tone dissipating immediately. “You’re the new fifth-year! I’m Sebastian Sallow. Welcome to Slytherin.”

Interesting shift in demeanor, I remember thinking.

“Thank you,” I said as cooly as I could muster before introducing myself.

I won’t lie, I blacked out for a lot of that conversation. I could still hear my housemates muttering behind my back and this Sebastian fellow was being very friendly - complimenting my bravery, saying he’s glad I’m alright. He also asked how Professor Fig and I escaped the dragon, to which I replied that it was all a blur, which was a half-truth, and therefore acceptable. I didn’t know how much time I’d be spending with Sebastian Sallow then, and I’d like to say I was enraptured by him since Day 1, but truthfully, as I walked away, I forgot all about him.

Despite having a raging pureblood fanatic and probable woman-hater (he just seems that way, you know?) as a house founder, the Slytherins put me at immediate ease. My next introduction was to a bossy, outspoken girl named Imelda Reyes, a girl with a thick Scottish accent who insisted that she knew more about flying than our professor. From anyone else, it might’ve seemed like lame adolescent bravado, but based on her confidence, I was inclined to believe her. Unlike with Sebastian, I made a conscious effort to memorize Imelda’s name and face. At my ripe age of fifteen going on sixteen, I’d come to find that people that are a pain in the ass make the greatest friends.

After Imelda, I was drawn to the back wall of the common room by a floor-to-ceiling window that gave us a glorious view underwater. A few of my housemates that looked younger than me were pressed up against the glass, excitedly chattering among themselves about mermaids and such.

“Doubt mermaids find us that interesting.” To my left, a posh British accent broke me out of my infatuation with the view. I turned and was immediately struck by how pretty this boy was. He had a soft air about him. Something gentle. Maybe it was the bluish light from the window casting down on him, illuminating his beauty marks and long lashes, but I’d never found anyone of any gender so beautiful before. He had high cheekbones and perhaps most striking were his cloudy gray-blue eyes that did not move like anyone else’s. Framed by lush, light lashes, his demeanor made it seem like his clear blindness made him more perceptive than the rest of us, not less.

His eyebrows raised. “Ah, based on all the chatter when you entered the common room, you’re the new fifth-year. I’m Ominis. Ominis Gaunt.”

I thought that his parents must’ve been quite vindictive to name their child something like that. As my friendship with Ominis progressed, I’d come to regret how right I was.

“Well, you certainly had a memorable arrival,” Ominis said in a conspiratorial tone. I smiled despite my original nervousness. Then he asked me the generic questions about my trip to Hogwarts. Maybe it was because he was blind, but Ominis had a way of making you feel like you had 100% of his focus. Like nothing else mattered to him while he was talking to you. Something about that, along with the soothing cadence of his voice, set me at ease. I never forgot what it was like talking to Ominis Gaunt for the first time. Eager as I was to finish my third introduction to cross it off my list, I found myself asking him questions about himself. Not because I didn’t want our introduction to be awkwardly brief, like I did with the other two, but because I wanted to know more about him. I didn’t have much to go off of, so I asked the first coherent question I could think of.

“Were you expecting to be sorted into Slytherin?” I asked. Hopefully originality wasn’t a graded subject at wizard school.

“Most certainly,” Ominis replied, sounding amused. “My family on my father’s side are direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin - one of the four founders of Hogwarts.” That last bit was common knowledge for most. Not for me, of course, but it didn’t feel condescending coming from Ominis. When he told you things, it was like the information levitated in the air for you to take for yourself, should you want it, rather than him forcing the information on you because he thought you were ignorant.

I figured he was rich. He looked rich, from his aristocratic face and expensive pomade in his hair. And, of course, the posh accent. My past experiences with people from families like his - that is, powerful old money families - were either neutral or bad, usually leaning towards the latter. Never anything traumatizing enough for me to hate the accent, but enough to make me notice how nice it sounded coming from him. I had to remind myself to focus on what the boy was saying, rather than how well words fit in his mouth.

“Not something I’m proud of, mind you. He was obsessed with blood status. A pure-blood maniac.” His tone turned self-deprecating, as if the bigotry of his ancestor was his cross to bear.

I allowed myself to linger on ‘blood stay-tus’ for a single, indulgent moment, before pursing my lips to keep from smiling too hard. I only allowed that one moment, considering how inappropriate it would be to smile at something so personal to Ominis. Not that he could see it, but I decided then that I would never hide behind his blindness for anything.

“Unfortunately, most of his descendants do not fall that far from that tree,” he said softly.

This time, I let the small smile I was holding escape.

“It must’ve been hard growing up like that, but,” the words had burst out of me before I could stop them, but now that I’d said them, it was time to follow through, as I always have. “I’m glad to hear you’re different.”

His eyes widened. “You are?”

I shrugged, not because I felt casual or because I forgot he couldn’t see it, but to keep myself from getting too intense about the family matters of a boy I’d just met.

“I grew up in--” I pursed my lips, but was determined to pay back the personal snippet he’d given me “--less than comfortable circumstances, so I’ve never cared about bloodlines and all that. I think the choices we make are what make us, wouldn’t you say?”

Ominis smiled boyishly. Soft, tentative. “I completely agree.”

I flushed, suddenly shy under his grateful expression. “Yeah, I’m big into the whole ‘free will’ thing. I think we always have a choice.” I did my best to sound more casual as to not let on just how strongly I believed in the power of autonomy, but felt like I failed.

Ominis looked like he wanted to say something else, but I’d already been too intense for one day, and was worried I’d put my foot in my mouth eventually, so I changed the subject.

“Did that student say he thought he heard a mermaid?”

To his credit, Ominis took the subject change in stride. He laughed, sounding just the slightest bit embarrassed and I quashed the stream of funny things my brain dug up just to hear that laugh again.

“Yes. But I’ve never heard of a mermaid showing up outside our common room window,” he replies. I look out the window. “It is fun to play along, though. Been known to keep some of the first-years on the lookout for hours.”

So the rich boy had a mischievous streak. I smiled. He had a gentle, serene aura, and yet was already one of the most vibrant people I had ever met.

I then realized how fast I was being dragged into his orbit. To keep from rendering myself useless for the rest of the day, I thanked Ominis and said, “Very nice to meet you.”

I’ve heard worse understatements. The ocean has a lot of water in it. People breathe air sometimes. My first day at Hogwarts was somewhat eventful. See? Worse.

~~~

While I was grateful to Professor Weasley for introducing the Floo to me, it made me super dizzy for the first several months. Travel magic was not for the tin tummied, to be sure. Not to mention Ignatia Wildsmith hollering a foot away from me every time I used it. She was a happy, friendly woman who made my life easier, so I was grateful to her, but every day I prayed that she would be just a bit quieter.

The Field Guide was useful and prevented me from wandering around the castle with my nose buried in a map like a lost tourist, but even with the guide, Hogwarts was a labyrinth. By the time I reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, I was breathing deeply through my nose so no one could hear how hard those stairs made me fight for my life.

When I entered the classroom, everyone seemed to already be present. The first thing that caught my eye was an enormous winged skeleton suspended from the ceiling. A bit of a safety hazard if you asked me, but I figured wizard school must’ve had some pretty good safeguards for these kinds of things.

“Stupefy!”

The second thing I noticed was a lanky redheaded boy wearing the Gryffindor colors having a duel of sorts with someone from my house. Someone broader, looking much more relaxed than his opponent. The brunette closer to me deflected the spell easily.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted before whipping his arm around and shooting a bombarda spell at the Gryffindor, who got his shield up in time, but, in my opinion, really should have been able to counter such an obvious move much sooner.

Don’t start, I told myself. Being judgemental was not a good way to make friends. Until you find equally judgemental friends, which is infinitely better, but I didn’t want to show my cards too soon.

The spell was deflected upwards, knocking the large skull loose onto the redheaded boy. Part of me was worried for him, but the other part of me said, “See? Safety hazard.”

Instead of, you know, using magic or moving two steps in literally any direction, the Gryffindor opted to squat down on the floor at the sight of the oncoming skull. For some reason.

“Levioso!”

At the top of the stairs stood an old woman with short white hair, holding her wand out, having caught the skull like it was nothing.

“Professor Hecat!” a girl cried from somewhere in the throng of students.

“Perhaps you’d be good enough to blast each other to pieces on your own time,” she said matter-of-factly. “I get new students every year, but I only have one Hebridium Black skull. It was a token from the Great Poacher Raid of 1878. No doubt you’ve heard of it. Now, you may be asking yourself how an old woman like me single-handedly took out the largest poacher ring in Eastern Wales and lived to boast about it.”

Absolutely, I thought. I want to be like you when I grow up. 

“Knowledge,” Professor Hecat supplied.

Was that like a potion or a mutation or the answer to her question? Are all spells in Latin?

Professor Hecat informed us that age mattered very little in the face of knowledge. I was inclined to agree, and my professor seemed to imply that while being old didn’t equate to being feeble, being young also didn’t equate to being ignorant. She lectured about an important spell that she used during her time against dark wizards, and I took a step forward so I could cling to her every word.

“Levioso?” the redhead whined. “A levitation charm?”

You mean the one you weren’t able to use? The one that the Professor just used to save your bony self from getting crushed by actual bones?

“Levioso!” The boy levitated several feet in the air. “A surprised opponent is a weak one. Care to defend yourself, Master Prewett?”

Ha, eat a dick, Prewett. Then I told myself to be nice, even if the guy seemed like the type to run home to mommy if he could.

From the movement in the corner of my eye, I could’ve sworn that the brunette that had been dueling looked back at me, but I assumed it was a trick of the light.

Professor Hecat let us break off to practice levioso. Professor Fig had taught me the basic spells, and obviously I’d already had my fair share of practice with them. My first spell at Hogwarts was bound to be harder, right?

I mimed the wand movement once. Twice. It was oddly simple. I gestured one more time and said in a clear voice, “Levioso.”

And the feather obeyed without protest. I stared at the floating feather, baffled. There was no way. Basic cast, protego, those were simple, natural spells. They felt like breathing. Other spells had to be more complicated, right? At least, hard enough where it took me more than one try to get it right. Maybe the ancient magic was helping me?

I lowered my wand. Professor Hecat approached on my left and had a whisper of an approving smile on her face.

“Now, let’s try something a little larger.” She summoned a practice dummy over and cleared all the desks. Then she gestured for me to face the dummy. Not one to argue, I stood in line with it and saw a shimmering yellow haze around it. Professor Hecat bid me to strike it with a basic cast.

Okay, but. There’s a forcefield around it. I– You know what, never mind.

I did as she asked and, sure enough, my spell bounced right off.

“See how the dummy deflected your cast?” Professor Hecat asked and I nodded. “This time, cast levioso first, then the basic cast.”

Easy enough. I imagined the end result and let my wand and body guide me through. It moved through me like water, the levioso followed through straight into my basic cast. With the spare energy I had, I whipped my hand back and forth for two more strikes. The dummy flipped in the air before flopping back down with a thud.

“Well done!” Professor Hecat said. “Very good. But!” Because there’s always a ‘but.’  “The best way to practice is by dueling. Well start with you two.”

I looked over to where she was pointing and I finally put two and two together. The tall, broad Slytherin boy that was dueling earlier. Sebastian, I recalled. In my defense, I couldn’t be expected to recognize him from behind after only meeting him once. I fought the savage grin that threatened to rear its head. My blood thrummed in my veins at the prospect of a fight. Something awoke inside me at Gringotts. The surge of power in my veins, the feeling of that final finishing blow, how each movement flowed into each other one after the next. The experience was addicting. For a time, I was worried that I wouldn’t get to feel that surge again.

Sebastian smirked at me. I took note of the freckles scattered across his face. His brown hair was mussed, probably from his duel, but the slightly unkempt look suited him.

“Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,” he said and took his place across from me.

Oh, it was on.

“Now,” the floor raised below me as Professor Hecat spoke, “I want a fair duel using levioso, basic cast, and protego.”

Damn. I was hoping for a free for all. I wanted to see how my defenses held up against that bombarda spell he used. No matter. With a level playing field, I had the ‘fought for my life less than 24 hours ago’ advantage.

That was the dilemma. I had a reputation to build. Would I absolutely own this boy, bruise his ego, probably make an enemy of him because of it? I would gain the respect of the rest of the class and the professor if I did. Or I could let him win so as to not make waves? I’d have to be careful, as I suspected our wise professor would see through poor acting if I threw the match too hard.

“You may begin.”

I spread my feet in a defensive stance. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked completely relaxed. Waiting for me to make the first strike. Was he being a gentleman or underestimating me? Either way, I’d make sure he never did it again.

I got him up off the ground. He didn’t even have time to try to block it. I hit him with a chain of basic casts before he dropped back down to his feet. Sebastian launched his counter attack. Quick, precise, forceful. Prewett deserved more credit for lasting as long as he did. Sebastian’s arm reared back and time slowed. I interrupted him with a cast of my own, then levitated him off the ground only to blast him off the back of the strip with a dull thud, papers flying around everywhere. The class went up in cheers and I hopped down to weave through the crowd.

Whoops.

Sebastian was still flat on his ass. Any number of reactions were possible. A scowl, a glare. Maybe even tears of embarrassment. Instead, I was met with a wide grin and eyes sparkling with interest. Before I could approach him, he dusted himself off and approached.

“Not bad for a beginner,” he teased. He was trying to seem aloof, but the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth said otherwise. “You give as good as you get.” Then he hummed and walked past me.

Professor Hecat called me over to praise me for a job well done. I stood in front of her, pleased to have her approval.

“I demand excellence from my students. They are capable of achieving it, and they must achieve it,” she said with passion. I had the feeling that Defense Against the Dark Arts would be one of my favorite classes. With the thrill of the fight and an invested instructor, it was everything I could have asked for in an education. She gave me more words of praise and I thanked her before she informed me that she would reach out soon with additional assignments. I couldn’t wait to absorb the vast pool of knowledge she had to offer.

As I made my way to the door, I found Sebastian standing there alone. I suspected that he had matters to discuss with the professor and nearly walked past him.

“Nice work,” he said.

I stopped and turned, surprised.

“I enjoyed that,” I told him.

“That duel was quite something!” he said. “Everyone will be talking about it.”

Why did he look so happy about it? So far, I’d been reading Sebastian Sallow wrong at every turn.

He put up a good fight. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t had a trial by fire practice. Opting to remain humble, I replied, “It was certainly good practice.”

Sebastian leaned in. “Practice?” he exclaimed. “Felt more like I was dueling an expert!”

My face warmed at the enthusiasm behind his praise.

“Didn’t expect a new student to be so deft with a wand.” He gave me an appraising look, his tone turning conspiratory. “Then again, perhaps this wasn’t your first duel.”

“I’ve dueled enough. Consider yourself lucky I held back.” Something about Sebastian made me want to push his buttons. My track record for getting him all wrong continued, however.

“Fair enough,” he matched my tone. “You owe me an honest duel when you’re not.”

My blood pulsed once more at the idea of another fight.

“You know. You might be a perfect fit for a certain exclusive, unsanctioned dueling organization,” Sebastian said.

Getting into trouble was the last thing I wanted to do, lest everything snowball and I find myself expelled from Hogwarts and back to where I was. Anything was better than that, but I suspected, though, that Sebastian knew exactly what button of mine to push. He had me pegged before I did him, and I found myself almost frustrated at the prospect.

“Exclusive and unsanctioned?” I said. “Count me in.”

Sebastian looked pleased with himself. “Excellent. Knew I was right about you.”

That made me frown. He was indeed. Yet, I’d been wrong about him since the moment I approached him in the common room. 

“If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts, you’re going to need to break the rules now and then,” he continued. “Whether it’s joining a secret dueling club or sneaking into the Restricted Section of the library.”

Damn that look he gave me at that last bit. He wasn’t saying it to brag. He’d already figured out what made me tick.

“You just have to be clever enough not to get caught.”

“Thank you, Sebastian.” I said coolly, having had enough of his watchful eye for the moment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gave me that knowing smile again. “Good. Pleasure chatting with you. I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Perhaps somewhere unsanctioned?” The emphasis on the last word told me he was sure I was on board. “We’ll see if your performance today was sheer luck or actual skill. Look for Lucan Brattleby by the clock tower entrance. If you’re interested.”

I tried not to scowl too hard. Of course he’d act like he was letting me think about it, knowing damn well what I was going to do. What a cheeky bastard.

~~

A/N: "Hey, this very much looks like a Sebastian fic!" Yes, reader, it does! And this first part is very much yours and Sebastian's love story. But! (Because there's always a but) I make no promises for the endgame. Maybe the fact that Sebastian needs you doesn't mean he deserves you. We'll have to see.

A good chunk of this will follow canon, but I change some scenarios and conversations entirely, and after a point, it'll diverge from canon completely.