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lukida1999 · 1 month ago

Note

Okay hear me out, I thought of doing my own fic about this idea but I feel the world needs to hear this sooner and I’ve never done a fic so would be too long until this happens.

It’s an amortenia idea, but it’s like professor sharp has a personal vendetta that day. No one knows about the lesson plan and he’s got the pot sitting there brewing smelling all whatever it smells like. And like one by one students are trickling in questioning these strange scents and spilling their deepest darkest secrets and professor sharp is just sitting there with smug satisfaction reeling in the chaos he has created.

Some examples I thought of, someone who likes poppy complaining that it smells like she has been in the animal pen at beasts class all day (Jim from the office zoom to professor sharps face)

Ominis like asking the class hey wait is Anne here today? Coz he smells her perfume or something.

The classic mc and Sebastian smelling each other I’ll leave that idea to you.

Leander like smelling the greenhouse coz the loser has a crush on his teacher.

Someone who crushes on Gareth walking in thinking he has already exploded a potion.

And then there’s Amit smelling like books or something to do with astronomy coz that’s all he loves lol.

Please make this a reality 🥲🥲

Love your work btw 😍

Hi! So I love love LOVED this request. It was so fun to write these students trying not to spiral out during class, so thank you for this one!

Amortentia

Rating: PG (language) Words: ~2,500 Tags: 2nd person POV, multiple pairings, teen romance, secret crushes

Read below the cut.

Professor Sharp was a straight shooter. He valued hard work, self-discipline and intelligence. It showed in the way he ran his classroom. He expected students to be prompt, attentive and alert. He demanded effort and excellence. And he felt genuine satisfaction when his students succeeded – and impatience when they didn’t.

Sharp was a gruff, no-nonsense man. But every once and a while – or maybe just once a year – he couldn’t help but stir the pot… literally and figuratively speaking.

Every April, Sharp chose one day to hold a special lesson for his unsuspecting seventh-year students. Perhaps it was a bit cheeky, maybe even diabolical, depending on who you asked, but Sharp couldn’t help but bask in the controlled chaos that consumed his classroom on this particular day each year.

Today was his annual Amortentia lesson. And nothing was more entertaining than watching a group of hormonal 17- and 18-year-olds fall victim to love’s sweet scent.

Garreth Weasley was the first to enter class that day. No surprise there, Sharp thought as he watched the redhead find his usual work station. Garreth often arrived ahead of the other students to get a head start on his brews, which were often unsanctioned and illicit. Sharp knew this, but chose his battles wisely. Truth be told, he quietly appreciated Garreth’s enthusiasm for potion brewing, even when it was often accompanied by anarchy.

Garreth’s brow furrowed as he strolled into class, his nose audibly sniffing the air that wafted from the cauldron Professor Sharp had placed at the front of the classroom.

“Why in Merlin’s name does it smell like hay in here?” Garreth asked as Leander Prewett entered the class behind him.

“Hay?” Leander blanched. “What are you on about? It smells like… soil and dirigible plums.”

“Huh? It smells like hay and corn… like the Beasts classroom,” Garreth insisted. Professor Sharp blinked at the boys’ exchange.

“Oi!” came the sharp voice of Imelda Reyes as she tossed her books down at her work station. “Weasley, did you already blow up your brew? Why’s it smell like burning billywig stings?”

“Oi, I haven’t done shit!” Garreth said indignantly.

“Language, Mr. Weasley,” Professor Sharp sighed. He earned a sheepish grimace from Garreth, which drew a smirk from Imelda.

“Does it smell like the Herbology greenhouse in here?” Leander asked her. Imelda wrinkled her face at him.

“Herbology?” she repeated blankly. “Don’t tell me you’re already lusting after Professor Garlick first thing in the morning. Keep it in your pants, Prewett.”

“It smells like dirigible plums!” Leander said hotly.

“It smells like Weasley’s been concocting more of that forbidden fizzing whizzbee potion,” Imelda retorted.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Ominis Gaunt. His usual cool and calm features contorted the moment he approached, his hands feeling for the table as he found his work station.

“Was Anne here?” he asked eagerly. “Where’s Sebastian? He didn’t tell me Anne was visiting today.”

Imelda and Garreth swapped a glance. “Anne? Anne Sallow?” Imelda asked carefully.

“Yes,” Ominis replied excitedly, the glowing tip of his wand surveying the room in search of the source of the scent. “It smells like shrivelfig and dittany, like the pain management potion Anne takes. When was she here?”

“Er, she wasn’t mate,” Garreth said carefully. “It’s just been us and Professor Sharp here.”

“Ah, Sebastian, there you are!” Ominis said, ignoring the others as Sebastian Sallow approached. “When was Anne here? Why was Anne here?”

“Anne?” Sebastian repeated blankly. “Anne’s still at St. Mungo’s, Ominis. You know that. Why would she be here?”

“I can smell her,” Ominis insisted, his pale face turning pink. “She has a very distinct scent because of her potions.”

“She’s not here, Ominis,” Sebastian said seriously, his face forming a concerned scowl. “And besides, I think it smells like lavender and… is that cinnamon?”

“Cinnamon?” Ominis repeated blankly. “What in Merlin’s-”

“Good morning,” Natsai Onai said as she took the station next to Sebastian. “Why does it smell like the library in here?”

“The library?” Sebastian repeated.

“Yes, like old books,” Natsai said. The group of students shared a menagerie of confused glances when Amit Thakkar entered the room with you.

“Morning,” you said cheerily, stopping in your tracks at the familiar scent of smoke and licorice. You smiled at Sebastian, who was looking miffed about something.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, eyeing him carefully.

“Nothing,” Sebastian answered. “It’s just… Ominis thought Anne was here.”

“Anne? Here? I thought she was in-”

“London,” Sebastian finished. “Yes, she is. She’s still at St. Mungo’s for the medication trial with the alchemists.”

“Why did you think she was here, Ominis?” you asked, your stare shifting to the other third of your friendship trio.

“Because it smells like her,” Ominis said, looking exasperated. “I know it sounds mad, but it smells like her medicine in here.”

“Really?” you mused, your lips pursing to suppress a knowing smile. It was no secret to you that Ominis held a torch for Anne. You’d never mentioned it though, knowing damn well he’d be mortified if Sebastian found out.

“What’s that on your shirt?” Imelda cut in before you could tease Ominis about his secret crush. You glanced down at the front of your blouse and frowned.

“Oh, that’s just cinnamon,” you sighed as you tried to dust yourself off. “Must have spilled some on myself when I sprinkled it in my breakfast tea.”

“Cinnamon, huh?” Imelda mused. You watched in confusion as her eyes grew wide with slow, stunned realization.

“What is it?” you demanded, but Imelda shook her head as she turned to Amit.

“Oi, Thakkar,” she said. “What’s it smell like in here to you?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“What do you smell?”

“I smell grass,” Amit answered. “Grass and leather.”

Imelda glanced at the leatherbound journal Natsai always carried around.

“Imelda, what’s this about?” you sighed.

Imelda ignored you. “Professor!” she called out with her hand raised. “What’s the assignment for today?”

Professor Sharp, who had been sitting in his usual chair at the table at the front of the classroom, sat back and stretched his legs out. It was a rare expression of casual nonchalance you weren’t used to seeing from him.

He cleared his throat before his eyes scanned the room to confirm all students had arrived. “Class, gather around my table,” he instructed as he rose to his feet. You and Sebastian swapped a curious glance as you abandoned your work station to follow your classmates to the front of the room.

“Who can tell me what this is?” Professor Sharp asked as he motioned toward the large cauldron on the tabletop. It contained a bubbling brew that was a rich shade of magenta.

Your eyes darted around the room as you waited for one of your peers to answer. Imelda raised her hand and you couldn’t help but notice an alarming glint in her eye.

“That’s Amortentia,” she said matter-of-factly. A series of whispers rolled across the room.

“Correct,” Professor Sharp said. “Five points for Slytherin. And who can tell me what Amortentia does?”

You swallowed before raising your hand. “It’s a love potion,” you answered. “Or more like an obsession potion. It can’t actually create the true emotion of love, but it can create dangerous infatuation.”

“And?”

“And it’s said to smell different to everyone,” Imelda cut in smugly. “It smells like whatever they find most attractive.”

Your stomach twisted and you could hear Ominis swear under his breath next to you.

Eyes darted around the classroom as you and your classmates began to assess the inadvertent admissions many of you had made upon your arrival. You silently thanked the higher powers that you hadn't let slip what you had smelled.

“Say Imelda,” Leander mused. “Weren’t you saying it smelled like Garreth’s potions when you walked in?”

The satisfied smirk vanished from Imelda’s face. “Shut it, Prewett!” she snapped. “At least I didn’t walk in and get a hard-on for Professor Garlick.”

Sebastian snorted next to you. “Garreth and Imelda?” he muttered quietly in your ear, “Now there’s a match made in hell.”

“And what do you smell?” you asked casually, praying you didn’t seem too curious.

“Nice try,” Sebastian replied with his signature half smirk as he crossed his arms. You were afraid to know the truth anyway.

Meanwhile, Ominis was looking even paler than usual. You smiled with a blend of sympathy and amusement while your eyes darted back and forth between him and Sebastian, wondering if Sebastian would realize the object of Ominis’ attraction.

“Hey Prewett,” you teased. “What’s this about you and Professor Garlick?”

You grinned as a crimson flush crept over Leander’s ears.

“I merely find her to be a rather inspiring teacher,” he said indignantly.

“More like you want to pull those braids,” Imelda said with a snicker.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Professor Sharp’s voice cut through the chatter. “Get to brewing. Recipe is on page 493.”

Meanwhile, Ominis looked hell-bent on busying himself with his potion.

“Need some help powdering your moonstone?” you asked kindly. Ominis seemed to sense your knowing smile.

“If you don’t mind,” he sighed. You couldn’t help but notice the way he was fidgeting with his peppermint leaves.

You eyed Sebastian for a moment, watching him tease Leander some more, to ensure he wasn’t listening.

“Perhaps you should write to Anne,” you offered softly. “I know she’d love to hear from you.”

“She doesn’t need any more stress in her life,” Ominis muttered quietly.

“On the contrary, perhaps hearing from someone she cares for would help ease some of that stress,” you noted. Ominis seemed to mull your words over, but before he could respond, Imelda began pelting Leander with Ashwinder eggs.

It seems Leander had made a suggestive remark about Imelda fancying Garreth and was now facing the consequences.

At the front of the room, Professor Sharp sighed, though had anyone been paying him any attention, they might have noticed the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Still, he had appearances to keep up and strode briskly toward the sparring students just before Imelda could grab a fistful of Leander’s hair.

He gave Imelda and Leander detention and surveyed the remainder of the room before returning to his table up front. Natsai had busied herself with her brew, leaving her oblivious to the shifty glances she was receiving from Amit, who was looking much sweatier than usual.

Sebastian, who had been enjoying the chaos with outward glee, finally settled in front of his own cauldron to begin the assignment.

“So,” you said with careful deliberation in an attempt to appear casual. “You’re really not going to reveal what you smell?”

Sebastian offered you a pointed stare. “Can’t go telling you all my secrets, can I?” You responded with a dramatic eye roll. “Besides,” Sebastian continued, “I don’t see you revealing what you smell either.”

“Sallow, I thought you said you smelled lavender and cinnamon when you walked in,” Imelda, who had been eavesdropping, offered. She flashed an innocent smile at Sebastian, though you knew Imelda well enough to be sure it was facetious.

Sebastian’s freckled cheeks were flushed. His features tightened and you began to fear for Imelda’s safety.

“I said maybe cinnamon,” Sebastian lied. “I don’t really know what I smelled.”

“And what’s that on your shirt again?” Imelda asked you. Your stomach somersaulted no less than three times.

“It’s cinnamon,” you said carefully. “I always put it in my morning tea.”

“Oh, how interesting,” Imelda drawled as she smirked at you. “And what kind of perfume do you wear?”

“I… it’s… it’s a lavender perfume my mother gave me,” you answered.

“Lavender, you say? Hey Sallow, that’s quite a coincidence,” Imelda continued. Sebastian was looking positively distraught. You wanted to crawl under the table and hide, or find a secluded place to scream. Perhaps Professor Sharp had some poison on hand for a quick and painless death.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sebastian said simply. It was the wrong thing to say, because Imelda, when prompted, always pushed harder.

“I mean, you said you smell lavender and cinnamon in the Amortentia,” Imelda continued. “And it just so happens that your very best friend wears lavender perfume and puts cinnamon in her tea.”

“So what of it?” Sebastian snapped. You, unsure of what to make of these developments, remained quiet. What could you possibly say that wouldn't make both you and Sebastian feel like absolute and utter fools.

“Just think it’s an… interesting coincidence,” Imelda said simply before she returned to her potion.

You and Sebastian worked in excruciating silence for the remainder of the class, the scent of smoke and licorice assaulting your sense of smell as you completed your potion.

With 15 minutes remaining, Professor Sharp stalked around the classroom to observe his students’ progress. As he moved from table to table, he couldn’t help but pick up on the tension that emanated from each cluster of students.

He noticed Amit looking ill, possibly on the verge of passing out, while Natsai was locked in on her potion with alarming focus. Leander was scowling as he worked. Garreth was casting uneasy glances toward Imelda, who was still looking smug. Ominis was pretending to be hard at work, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere – like hundreds of miles south in London.

And then there was you and Sebastian, working in silence though the tension you both carried in your jaws would have been concerning to Professor Sharp had it not been so entertaining.

"Wait a minute," Sebastian said slowly as his head snapped up. His stare found Ominis and you shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "Ominis, didn't you say you smelled Anne's pain medication?" Sebastian asked sharply.

You held your breath as you watched the color drain from Ominis' face.

"Sebastian, look," Ominis started cautiously. "I'm not... I just- it's-"

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Sebastian demanded. An uneasy hush rolled over the entire room. All eyes in the classroom were on the Slytherin boys now.

"I'm sorry," Ominis blurted out. "I didn't know how. I didn't want you to get the wrong impression."

"But if you'd said something, I wouldn't have had to put up with listening to Anne's senseless pining," Sebastian continued.

"S-senseless pining?"

"Yes, you prat," Sebastian sighed. "Anne's had a thing for you since our third year."

Your jaw dropped. Professor Sharp fought to conceal a smile.

"Oh," was all Ominis could manage. Sebastian shook his head at his friend.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "You really thought I'd be angry with you?"

"You do have a proclivity for irrational ire," Ominis noted. You snorted over your cauldron.

"You're my oldest friend, mate," Sebastian continued. "You're the only person I'd want to end up with my sister."

"Oh."

A sudden scuffle at the back of the room stole the attention from the Slytherins. You craned your neck, your eyes widening as you realized Andrew Larson had Duncan Hobhouse in a headlock.

"Think you're going to steal my girl?" Andrew shouted at Duncan. "Coffee and biscuits? I know you smelled her." His hold on Duncan tightened, causing the smaller boy to whimper. Andrew finally released him with a shove, sending Duncan toppling to the floor. "If I ever catch you anywhere near her, I'll curse you to Marunweem."

Professor Sharp, who had rushed toward the altercation, scolded Andrew and sent him from the classroom. Duncan, who you could swear had tears in his eyes, slunk back to his seat.

“Hey Professor,” Imelda asked suddenly, her hand raised.

“Yes, Reyes?” Professor Sharp sighed.

“You didn’t tell us what you smell in the Amortentia.”

Professor Sharp blinked in an effort to suppress his shock. His eyes drifted over the classroom, and he was met by wide, curious gazes. He should’ve known his quiet, calculated scheming would try to catch up to him one day. He cleared his throat and retreated toward his office door. “And on that note, class dismissed.”

Sebastian gathered his books in record time, his eyes glued to the floor as he made a beeline for the door. But you were just as quick.

“Sebastian,” you said as you caught up to him. Your own eyes darted around, looking anywhere but at the boy beside you. “Do… do you still want to work on Confringo target practice in the Undercroft later?”

“Huh? Oh- right. Yes. Of course.”

“Okay. I’ll bring the snacks this time.”

“Alright.”

“I was thinking cauldron cakes and licorice snaps. I’ve been craving them.”

Sebastian finally turned to meet your gaze, his brow furrowed in a frown. “You hate licorice.”

“I know,” you agreed. “But I have a feeling I’ll have a hankering for it later. After all, that’s what I smelled in my Amortentia.”

244 notes · View notes

lukida1999 · 1 month ago

Text

I Remember

Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader

Rating: PG (death, mild violence) Words: 5,339 Tags: G/N reader, G/N MC, angst, grief, mourning, death, love, hurt no comfort, heartbreak, sad Sebastian Sallow

Summary: You died during your seventh year at Hogwarts before you could tell your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, how much you loved him. But when he discovers a box of your pensieve memories, he learns the comforting, yet cruel truth.

Notes: This is a little different from my usual smutty crackfics. So enjoy a bit of angst and have no fear, I’ll be back with more of my usual work soon.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Sebastian Sallow hadn’t been a fan of birthdays in years. He shared his own with a twin sister who no longer cared to speak to him. Their parents hadn’t been alive to celebrate with them in ten years, and now, you – the only person he ever loved romantically – were also gone.

Now, people couldn’t help but whisper and wonder if death favored poor Sebastian Sallow.

Life had been far too cruel to Sebastian for him to care about something as flippant as his seventeenth birthday – especially when it was the first birthday he’d spend without you.

Sebastian never told you how he felt. He could never quite find the words or the right time. A teenage boy plagued by so many misfortunes couldn’t be expected to understand such love anyway. All he knew was his eyes constantly searched for you in every room. He knew he craved lapsang souchong tea, because that’s what you drank – bold and smoky, just like you. And he knew that he would have died for you, without question, if he’d only been a little faster.

It happened three months ago, though it replayed in Sebastian’s mind with such frequency and clarity, it could have happened three days ago, for all he knew.

The two of you had ventured into the Scottish Highlands in search of dittany leaves for a potion. It had been a soft, serene morning punctuated by a mild breeze and the maternal kind of sunshine that embraced you with warmth, offering no inclination you’d endure your demise that day.

After all, you’d eliminated Ranrok and his loyalists. You’d saved Hogwarts – and wizardkind – all while helping the Keepers preserve the secret of your ancient magic in the repository. Your biggest fears these days were Potions exams and Imelda Reyes’ taxing quidditch practices.

But poachers and Ashwinders remained, operating under new unscrupulous undertakings. You knew that – you eliminated them whenever you encountered them – but you hadn’t expected them to be camped outside of Keenbridge that day.

You and Sebastian laughed and joked, unaware that those three Ashwinders were very aware of your presence. So while the two of you cackled about Puffskein Duncan’s hideous new haircut, those Ashwinders were watching. They observed as you gathered your potion ingredients and stashed them inside your bag. They saw the way you tried to shove Sebastian in a creek when he teased you. They noticed the way Sebastian’s eyes lingered on you as you drank from a canteen you’d nicked from Gladwin Moon.

But they didn’t care. And then they struck.

They ambushed you both when your guards were down, your eyes too busy clinging to each other and your thoughts too consumed by your pounding hearts.

An Incarcerous spell struck Sebastian first, whipping ropes around his hands and feet so that he fell at your side. You knelt to help him, shielding you both with Protego until you managed to hit one Ashwinder with a stunning spell.

Another Ashwinder drove you backward with a slew of spell combinations, leaving Sebastian bound and helpless in the grass. He writhed and jerked in desperation. You took the second Ashwinder on, your eyes shifting between her and Sebastian. And when you saw the third Ashwinder approaching him, you lost all regard for anything but him.

“Expelliarmus!” you shouted as you disarmed the third Ashwinder. You sent another cast at Sebastian, freeing him from his bindings so that he could scramble to his feet. You caught his gaze, admired those deep brown eyes, and he smirked at you. The two of you had been in similar scenarios more times than you could remember. And you always walked away unscathed.

And then, the explosion sent you backward. The Ashwinder you had been fighting seized that opportunity when you were lost in Sebastian and sent you flying off your feet until you toppled over the edge of a cliff.

You fell and fell, a slow-motion stage exit to the grand production of your short life. It was quite a letdown of a finale. Surely someone with experience like yours would die in a much more grandiose manner than a few lowly Ashwinders.

The last thing you heard was Sebastian’s scream before your body returned to the earth. Your soul never did, though.

So while Sebastian managed to escape those Ashwinders with his life, he walked away from that day drained of his will to continue surviving.

He’d lost nearly every person close to him. It made him question everything – his purpose, his resolve, and every choice that had led to so many devastating conclusions.

He had to be the one to apparate back to the Hogwarts grounds with your body. He could still hear the whispers – then the screams – as your fellow students realized what had happened. He sat through your funeral while Headmaster Black prattled on some performative prose about how wonderful you were. Then he clung to a corner of the Slytherin Common Room while your housemates drifted past, mumbling their condolences.

And then, whatever spell had been placed on the world was lifted. Hogwarts was no longer frozen in time. Your classmates returned to their studies and professors went about their lessons. The morose hallways reignited with their old energy, ringing with jubilant chatter. Even the weather moved on, its summer blossoms and laughing waters wilting amid a cold cast of clouds and decay.

Life carried on for everyone but Sebastian. He remained there with you, rooted to the spot in time where he watched your spirited life reach its screeching halt. While everyone else drifted forward, Sebastian lingered in place, searching for you in every new moment while the old ones anchored him to his anguish.

It had become a canon event in Sebastian’s life, a familiar foe he couldn’t outrun. He lost someone he loved, the world felt sorry for him, and then it moved on. It left Sebastian lonely and isolated, smothered by a grief few others could comprehend. Hogwarts had been his home for years, but your absence made him homesick.

That’s why no one blamed Sebastian for hating his birthday today. No one even dared to approach him, except Ominis in the morning. He urged Sebastian to eat but left when he was met with a cool response. It made no difference. Sebastian had mastered the art of saying words he didn't believe, even if Ominis saw right through them. Instead of attending classes, Sebastian retreated to the Undercroft.

The dark, damp dungeon missed you desperately. When Sebastian first introduced you to the space, you had insisted on tidying it up. You used scrubbing spells to clean the surfaces and fire spells to clear the cobwebs; then you used Professor Weasley’s conjuration spells to add furniture and desks. You even placed thoughtful little trinkets to a tabletop, a touch that reflected your desire to add warmth and comfort wherever you went.

But now, the Undercroft was achingly empty in your absence. Though the traces of your previous presence lingered, the room’s creaks and groans seemed to whimper for your return. The surfaces had collected dust and the floors were dingy again, desperate to be disrupted by your tread. The braziers were dimmer, begging for a blast of your fiery existence.

Sebastian hated that room now. It was once his recluse; his safe space meant only for him and the three people he cared about. But now that your handprints were all over it, it was lacking the life you had once breathed into it.

Sebastian left the Undercroft and ascended the Astronomy Tower. When the Room of Requirement appeared for him, he strode right in. It would provide him with whatever it was he needed.

He visited your room often, simply to stand and feel its pulse. You were everywhere. And unlike the Undercroft, you lingered with life here. Sometimes, Sebastian sat on a sofa in the side room until he dozed off. Other times, he’d venture into the vivariums to check on its inhabitants. Most times, he merely felt ; the room seemed to know Sebastian wanted to remember you, and it often hummed with a calm, quiet murmur reminiscent of your soothing tone.

Today, the room seemed to know Sebastian was in need of a birthday gift. As he wandered toward the side room, his eyes scanning the bookshelves you’d filled with your – and Sebastian’s – favorite novels, his eyes fell on a trunk. He had never noticed it before.

Sebastian frowned and eyed the trunk’s lid. There was no lock on it.

After you died, your friends had been careful with your belongings. Sebastian kept everything of sentimental value in a trunk of his own, from your school robes to the notebooks containing your scribbles about ancient magic. Everything that mattered to you was in his care now, so it struck him as odd that there’d be a secret trunk in your Room of Requirement.

Sebastian swallowed, unsure of what he would find as he kneeled over the trunk and waved his wand. The lid clicked open and he lifted it, revealing some old clothes. Sebastian blinked. It all seemed rather anticlimactic. But as he lifted an old sweater from the top of the pile, he stilled.

The familiar S.S. initials were embroidered across the left breast. He had wondered what happened to this sweater and assumed it was lost in the laundry ages ago. Beneath it, was a scarf. His school scarf.

At the very bottom of the trunk was a package – a small box wrapped in brown paper with your familiar scrawl in ink. You had written his name across the top.

Sebastian stared at it, as if lifting it from the trunk would shift the paradigm of his universe. But curiosity was Sebastian’s Achilles, and he soon found himself setting his old clothes aside for the package.

He brushed dust from the top of the wrapped box, his fingers tracing over his own name as if the ink you’d left would leech into his fingertips, absorbing you with it.

He treated the paper with the utmost care, peeling it slowly away from the box to ensure it wouldn’t tear. It revealed an old wooden box, unremarkable and unassuming. Sebastian turned it over carefully, the sounds of delicate glass tinkling from inside. Once he confirmed there were no markings or inscriptions on the box, he flipped it back over and snapped the top open.

Inside was a folded sheet of old parchment and a set of tiny glass vials, each filled with clear liquid. Dust clung to the vials, leaving Sebastian’s fingers dingy as he examined each one for clues revealing their contents. Each cylinder was labeled with a date so small, Sebastian had to squint to see them.

He set the box on the floor next to the trunk and carefully unfolded the old parchment with both hands. Again, your familiar handwriting revealed itself.

Dear Sebastian,

Happy birthday! Please view these pensieve memories on your own time, in private. You’ll understand once you see them. Then come find me when you feel the time is right, no pressure.

Love always, Your kindred spirit

Sebastian smiled. Your voice echoed in his mind and ears, like you were reading the letter aloud right next to him. He hadn’t smiled at the memory of you since you died.

Instead, his grief had crawled into every crevice of his brain and body, constricting him into a body bind of immobilizing heartache. It clamped down on his veins and arteries and cut off his blood supply. His brain screamed for some semblance of life. It left his nerve endings void of all sensation and pooled in the pit of his stomach, an omnipresent offering of torment and guilt.

Sebastian scrambled to his feet, cradling the box in his arm as if it contained the most important secrets in the world. To him, it did.

He scurried from the Room of Requirement and retreated back to the Undercroft, now grateful for its quiet seclusion. He set the box carefully on a table and sorted through each vial until he found the one with the earliest date.

After he uncorked it, his hand shook as it hovered above the pensieve. Its swirling liquid seemed to beckon him, pleading for memories to resurrect it back to life. But Sebastian hesitated, fearful for what lay on the other side of this moment.

He trusted you more than anyone, but you clearly had meant for these memories to remain a secret until the right moment. Sebastian was sure you’d packaged them up under the assumption you’d be alive for his birthday. What if your death had changed everything and these memories were supposed to die with you?

The last thing Sebastian wanted was to betray or dishonor you. Your life had been so full of intention – from your determination to stop Ranrok to your sincere endeavors to help cure Anne’s curse. Sebastian wanted to preserve your memory with love and admiration. But these were his memories now. You’d wanted to share them with him and he would honor that, no matter their contents, no matter the cost.

Sebastian tipped the vial and watched a single drop ripple across the pensieve’s surface. It glimmered and swirled, stirring wispy trails in its gentle wakes. Sebastian didn’t wait to plunge his face in.

More smoke swept past him and he hurtled straight into the Slytherin Common Room. He immediately spotted himself, pacing in front of the fireplace with his nose in a book. He recognized this moment better than his own wand.

And then you appeared. You paused behind the sofa and watched Sebastian curiously. He had never noticed that. Your eyes studied him until he finally looked up from his book.

Sebastian had to watch himself meet you for the first time all over again. It tugged at his heartstrings, twisting and tightening them inside his chest. You were right there, mere feet from him, but he couldn’t reach out and touch you.

He watched as you introduced yourself and smiled as you inquired about his book. He told you not every useful spell could be found in assigned textbooks, to which you expressed your intrigue. And that was when Sebastian declared you kindred spirits; the phrase that would connect the two of you by an unseen thread for life.

Sebastian was uncertain why you chose to return him to this particular memory. He remembered it far too fondly to need a refresher. But as he watched your first meeting come to an end, he noticed as you walked away and paused to turn, your gaze lingering on his form long after he had returned his attention to his book.

He hadn’t known that happened.

The memory ended and thrust him back to the Undercroft, where Sebastian stilled to process your replay of your first meeting. What was he meant to take away from such a simple moment? Of course, the events that followed had been anything but simple. You became the most complex person to ever enter Sebastian’s life.

He fumbled quickly through the remaining vials for the next and wasted no time tapping another drop into the pensieve. This memory seemed to shimmer and sparkle as it dispersed across the pensieve’s cloudy waters. Sebastian drew a breath and dipped his head.

This one was clearly Christmastime. You, Sebastian and Ominis were cozied up in the common room. You were seated between the two boys on the sofa, a blanket thrown across your lap while you clutched a mug of cocoa in your hand. Ominis looked relaxed, a rare change from his typical poise. Sebastian slouched lazily in his seat, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans in his lap. The fire crackled as you laughed at one of Ominis’ dry remarks, though your eyes were on Sebastian.

He watched as you smiled at his pensieve form, warmth radiating from your gaze. Your lips curved as you teased him about his tousled hair, to which he became indignant and tossed a jelly bean at you. You squealed and nearly splashed your cocoa on Ominis, who squawked in displeasure.

You picked up the jelly bean and chucked it back at Sebastian, who caught it and popped it in his mouth before his features contorted in disgust.

“I think that one was dirt-flavored,” he whined.

“Good, serves you right,” you declared happily. Sebastian’s pensieve version reached toward you to give your hair a sharp, playful tug. You swatted his hand away and laughed wildly, all while Ominis chided you and Sebastian for making a mess.

It was another moment Sebastian had committed to his own reserve of memories with clarity and fondness. But again, your version was different.

This time, he noticed the way you noticed him. Your eyes never left him, even when Ominis spoke. You leaned closer to him, your body nearly touching his when you teased him. And then there was the moment your hands brushed – completely innocuous – but Sebastian noticed the way your breath hitched and your cheeks flushed. His did the same.

He watched as Ominis yawned and declared it was time for bed. Your mutual friend said goodnight and disappeared toward the boys’ dormitories, leaving you and Sebastian’s pensieve form in each other’s company.

The pair sat and talked quietly, an occasional giggle interrupting your murmurs, until the fire waned to soft embers and you dozed off on his shoulder. That was one of Sebastian’s favorite memories.

But he remembered the subtle smell of your hair, the warmth of your body and the soft breaths that sighed from your lips during your slumber. He didn’t remember what happened once he fell asleep.

And so he watched as the memory shifted like a leap in time, and then you stirred, likely in the middle of the night. You lifted your head and peered upward at Sebastian, smiling as you watched him sleep. Your chest swelled and eyes softened until you gently returned your head to his shoulder until the morning.

As the memory came to a close, Sebastian began to wonder. What were you trying to tell him? What did those stolen glances and secret smiles mean?

The third memory surged inside the pensieve when the liquid met the surface. This one stirred a storm of dark and volatile streaks, which made Sebastian scared to see its contents. But once again, he dipped his head with bated breath.

He recognized the Feldcroft catacomb immediately. And in a sudden rush, he watched himself sprint past, toward the exit. Sebastian couldn’t forget this moment if he tried – and he often did.

“Sebastian!” you cried as you jogged into view. Tears streamed down your cheeks and your face was bleeding from your fight with Solomon. You begged Sebastian to stop, but he was far too gone – in every sense of the phrase – to even acknowledge you.

Shame surged through Sebastian as he relived one of the worst moments of his life. He followed after you as you pleaded with his pensieve version to wait until you eventually stopped calling his name.

But when you reached the exit, the memory shifted and Sebastian was thrust to your dormitory. This scene was new to him.

His expression fell as he watched you sink to the floor, your body hitching with violent sobs. Your hair was still disheveled, robes torn and tattered, and blood streaked across your cheek from the fight in the catacomb. Sebastian had never seen you so anguished. The sight would haunt him the same way your death would.

He stood in the corner of the room, tears welling in his eyes as he watched you unravel, scared and alone. You sobbed so hard your chest heaved and your stomach lurched.

The scene blurred again until Sebastian was returned to the Undercroft, this time as a voyeur. He caught his breath as he watched you plead with Ominis to refrain from turning him in for killing Solomon.

“I don’t want to lose Sebastian, but I don’t think we have a choice,” Ominis said.

“We do have a choice,” you insisted. “What good would it do if we turn him in now? He clearly regrets everything. He’s not going to do anything like this again.”

“We both heard that before,” Ominis argued.

“But we also need to think about Anne. She’s lost her health. Now she’s lost her uncle. Do you really want to take her brother away from her too?” you pushed.

When Ominis finally relented, Sebastian watched as more tears streamed over your cheeks. Your eyes were empty, no longer brimming with your bold energy. Sebastian had drained it from you. The realization shattered his heart.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Ominis asked you.

“I care about them both,” you answered. “I know Anne doesn’t much care for me, but Sebastian needs her… and I need him.”

“You love him, don’t you?” Ominis asked quietly.

You nodded in response. “I do.”

Ominis sighed, though it was evident he wasn’t surprised by your revelation. You and Sebastian were as clear as diamonds — and as hard as them, too. As much as it frustrated Ominis, he knew it was also what made the two of you so simpatico. You understood Sebastian on a profound level few others could even scrape.

“You’ve got to save him,” Ominis whispered. “He can’t save himself. He’s too far gone. You have to be the one to help him. You’re the only one.”

You nodded in understanding, your cheeks now raw and red from the salty sting of your tears.

“I will,” you said softly. “I love him too much to lose him to this.”

The memory ended and Sebastian swished back to the Undercroft, now in its present state. He gripped the edge of the pensieve to hold himself upright, its cold stone pressed hard against his fingers. He was crying now, his breath shaky as he fought for air.

His legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor on his knees, his body bent in child’s pose as he choked on his own sobs. He remained there until his bones seemed to disintegrate. His body felt like a vacant home left to rot into ruins.

You loved him. He watched you admit it. You loved him, and you fought for him. When others wanted to give up on him, you were ready to step closer. You vowed to save him because he had meant that much to you.

And you had succeeded. Because once your fifth year ended, you inserted yourself to Sebastian’s side, an extension of his own body. You resurrected him from the cavernous clutches of dark magic and desperation, and revived him with renewed energy. You let him lean on you in the days that followed Solomon’s death. You talked him through his guilt and reminded him he was worthy of a good life that shouldn’t be defined by his past. You refused to allow him to punish himself, but ensured he was remorseful for what he did. You showed him what it meant to become redemption.

Your empathy and understanding nursed Sebastian back to his old form – the charming, friendly and resourceful boy he was before your fifth year – the boy you had never even met. You were his savior, not because you needed another person to rescue, but because saving Sebastian from himself also saved you.

After all the evil you’d endured, you needed to believe that people could still be good. You needed reassurance that light could still outshine dark. And you needed to know if your love would be enough for someone, even if it wasn’t reciprocated.

Because the one thing that saved you and Sebastian Sallow both was your best shared attribute: your optimism.

Sebastian lay curled up on the floor of the Undercroft for a good hour. He was overcome with grief, guilt and regret, and they all clashed at once, straining his heart until he was certain it would sever inside his chest.

What if he had simply told you he loved you? Maybe it wouldn’t have prevented your death, but at least you would have known. At least you would have died with a full heart and the comfort that the boy you cared about the most needed you in all the same ways.

And selfishly, maybe you would have told Sebastian you loved him, too.

When silence returned to the Undercroft after Sebastian’s sobs subsided, he sat up, his weight supported back on his hands. There was still one vial remaining.

He wasn’t sure he had the energy to witness any more monumental memories, but truly, he had no choice. He wouldn’t rest until he understood every message you were trying to send him. He owed you that, at the very least.

Sebastian gathered himself up off the floor to retrieve the last vial. He was cool and clammy, which caused him to grip the vial particularly hard amid concern he would drop it. As he tilted it over the pensieve with a shaking hand, it splashed and shimmered streaks of gold that reminded him of sun rays.

He recognized this memory instantly. It had taken place a week before you died. The two of you snuck out of the castle to explore another old cave. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, other than an adventure. Sometimes, the two of you merely created your own expeditions for old time’s sake.

This one led you all the way to the Clagmar Coast. Once you determined the cave housed nothing more than a chest of old spectacles, you and Sebastian decided to sit and watch the stars under the cover of the cave’s secluded opening. It overlooked the sea, which shimmered beneath the moon. You could hear the churns of the waves smashing into the cliffside below, but not even the surf’s rumble could drown out the slamming heart inside your chest.

You hugged your knees as you sat close enough to Sebastian that you could feel his warmth. The salt air whipped through your hair and he laughed as you struggled to keep it in place, finally admitting defeat when it plastered itself to your face.

Sebastian watched as you shivered. He had chided you for wearing only a knit jumper, even though he had done the same. What he hadn’t known was that your shivers weren’t from the cold. As so when he draped an arm around you and pulled you close against his body to keep you warm, your own body shuddered more. You welcomed its response because it meant he’d hold you even tighter. You did this more often than you’d ever admit – sometimes you pretended to be cold just so Sebastian would hold you.

Sebastian had dwelled on this memory at a damn near obsessive rate. His head had become a vast vault of moments with you, each one stored away in meticulous order that would make Madam Scribner proud. But this one sat on the nearest shelf, within easy reach so that he could call upon it often.

He hadn’t known it would be one of his final fond memories of you.

But again, your version was different.

Because this variant exposed everything. The moonlight cast itself over your eyes, which softened every time Sebastian glanced at you. But as you snuggled closer to him, Sebastian watched as you squeezed them shut. They looked like a camera shutter, committing the moment to the film inside your head.

And then you stole one more glance up at Sebastian’s pensieve form and your eyes screamed louder than the waves below. You gazed at your freckled friend with so much love, it made Sebastian’s chest cave as he watched.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t utter the words that were perched on the tip of your tongue. You didn’t have to. Neither of you did.

Finally, Sebastian understood.

That was the beauty of it all. For all of your unspoken words, your silent declarations, and your desperate desires, you were both enough.

You and Sebastian adored each other in secret and in silence. But you lived and loved out loud.

And though you both wished you could have experienced that love to its full extent and in its truest form – raw, real and unrestrained – what you did share was enough.

So when Sebastian returned to the Undercroft for the final time, the last of your pensieve memories complete, he sank back to the floor with his back pressed against the wall.

Because even though he understood now, even though he realized he’d always carried your love, he was in mourning.

He mourned the romance you’d never have. He mourned your future cut short by the sharp, cruel blade of an unfair fate. And he mourned your memories – all of them – because this wasn’t how you’d intended him to see them.

He was supposed to view them and then sprint to you. Had you been alive, he likely would have found you tucked away in a quiet corner of the library or en route to the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers with Poppy and Natty. He would have chased you down and told you he’d seen all the memories. He would have told you he loved you, too. The two of you would have laughed at how silly you’d been. And then he would have kissed you and stolen you away from whatever endeavor you had going on to make up for lost time.

But now, you’d lost more than time and nothing would make up for it. It would gnaw away at Sebastian forever.

But the worst part was he couldn’t save you. He could return to your memories to see you again, but he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t feel you, couldn’t speak with you or reach out to pull you to safety. He couldn’t bring you back.

Soon, those memories would be gone, too. The vials you left were no bigger than Sebastian’s index finger. They’d run empty if he revisited the pensieve too often. He hated how he had to ration you like this. You loved each other. He deserved you with boundless abundance.

And though you’d found a way to tell him how you felt, he would never have the chance to tell you. He silently prayed you somehow secretly knew, but you deserved more than the cowardice of unspoken words. You deserved a loud and vibrant love, obnoxious to those who envied you and beautiful to those who understood you.

And then Sebastian realized.

He scurried from the Undercroft, your vials left in their box to be retrieved later. Right now, he had to get to you.

You were buried just south of Hogsmeade, near the observation platform that overlooked the South Hogwarts region and the castle. It was your favorite place, because you said it presented you with a perfect view of home and everything you loved.

When Sebastian reached your grave, he fell to his knees before it. Tears returned to his eyes and he choked back a sob.

“I saw them,” he sputtered. “I saw everything – all of your pensieve memories. I wish you’d told me. I wish we could have known how it felt to be together. And I wish I could have told you how much I love you, too.”

And then he wept. He wept for himself, for you, and for the universe that had to continue its existence without the privilege of your presence.

He cried until every emotion had poured itself from his eyes into the soil of your grave. He prayed his tears would seep six feet under and find their way to you. You had given him your tears – they now sat in those tiny little vials that Sebastian would treasure forever. The least he could do was gift you with his, even if it was his birthday.

He stopped celebrating for good that year, electing to instead spend every birthday returning to your pensieve memories until one day, those were gone, too.

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