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bookie-bookdust · 3 months ago

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Secret For One ✒️

One should always carefully examine the labels of the items they are, ahem, borrowing. -or- In which using some anti-cheating ink accidentally reveals to the entire seventh year class what you and Seb were up to before your Herbology exam (kissing – the answer is kissing).

(This was my first ever HL one shot when I forced my introverted ass to actually post something. I can't believe how much time has passed - this was 11/2023. I didn't know a single person in the fandom and had been lurking since the game released. And now I'm here, more insane than ever😊) Pairings: Sebastian Sallow x You/Reader Word Count: ~4400 Rating: Teen Read it below the cut, or at ao3/wp: (MASTERLIST)

It wasn’t uncommon to use the Undercroft for studying especially after curfew.

You had a nasty Herbology exam bright and early tomorrow. It was meant to be a mere pathetic taste of the N.E.W.T at the end of the school year, and your notes were beginning to look like runes.

You rubbed your eyes until little lights danced in your vision. “Ominis had the right idea going to bed. I’m exhausted.”

“Don’t let him hear that,” Seb murmured, peering up at you from his textbook.

“What? You think all the other times we’ve forced him into premature graying wasn’t proof enough he’s usually right?”

“No. I don’t think so.” He grinned.

Ominis had excused himself hours ago, in a sour mood after receiving a letter from everyone’s favorite dark aristocratic family, the Gaunts. It’d left you and Seb to the candles as they slowly dripped down to nubs. They at least helped with the coldness of the space, and you always managed to sneak in one spiced candle so the Undercroft smelled of cinnamon. Ominis had given one hard warning not to set the place in flames before storming out.

“These Mandrake illustrations are beginning to look like caricatures of Prewett.” You sighed, slamming your textbook shut. “What time is it?”

“Late enough to hallucinate Leander Prewett.” Seb tipped back in his chair, smirking at you with tired eyes.

In the candlelight, the hazel glowed almost black. His brown curls were ruffled, his collar askew, and tie undone. The smallest sliver of chest showed as he absentmindedly fiddled with his top button. You swear you spotted the same freckles there that splattered his cheeks.

Merlin, how did he always look so good? You’d been asking that question for the last two years, and you still hadn’t found an answer.

You poked at the fraying edge of your textbook, biting your lip. “We should probably head to bed. Last time we pulled an all-nighter we almost went to the wrong classroom.”

“Sharp loved that,” he scoffed. “Do you know after class he casted a sobriety spell on me?”

“No,” you gasped, sitting up. “You never told me that.”

“He really thought I’d be drinking fire whiskey at 8 in the morning. It still baffles me. I would love to know if he had the instinct to check me because of a prior experience.”

“Do you think Sharp used to be a bad boy?” You cackled at the thought.

“Trying to sneak a look at feminine ankles dangling from their stools in potions? Of course.”

“Ankles.” You snorted, remembering Weasley’s lecture she’d prepared earlier in the year on the proper rules for society witches now that they were seventh years. The ordeal had left you fending off fantasies of a certain freckled Slytherin with a penchant for dark magic. You’d avoided him for two whole days before you could calm your blushing cheeks.

“How many times have you seen my ankles?” you asked.

Sebastian flashed you a hilarious face, half amusement, half absurdity. “Why, I believe they’re burned into my retinas. Though so is you blasting some witch who only knew the levitation charm off a cliff.”

“I wonder what would make Weasley faint first.”

“Ankles,” he said matter of factly, nudging yours gently from under the table.

You kicked him back, and he caught your leg, squeezing your skin with his burning hand before letting it drop.

Damn, damn, damn. Your ankle tingled all the way up. Why did he have to go around doing things like that and expect you not to fall right out of your seat?

“Alright. Enough about ankles. Let’s get going.” You forced yourself to focus on stacking your notes and books and not on that little sliver of his shirt that seemed to open more each second.

You grabbed your quill, hesitating on the ink you’d “borrowed” from one of the supply closets in the DADA tower. You should probably return it. Tomorrow after the exam. Then you’d take another trip to Hogsmeade to update your ink stores.

Maybe you could make a trip out of it. Invite Poppy along with Seb and Ominis. It’d been your own personal project trying to get Ominis and Poppy to speak more after you’d caught them blushing in Muggle Studies about Muggle matrimony traditions. Maybe Seb would help. He enjoyed torturing Ominis.

“Have you noticed how—”

Seb yelped, a crash making you spill your notes on the floor. You nearly dropped the ink pot, saving it in seconds.

He’d tipped too far back in his chair and now lay flat on his back. Eyes wide in surprise, he started laughing.

“Are you okay?” You rushed over to him.

“Maybe you’re right. We need to get to bed.”

You offered a hand, and he awkwardly unfolded his legs from beneath the chair. “Thank—”

You stepped forward—right on your notes. The floor disappeared beneath you. You toppled over him, the ink spilling across both of you.

“Dammit, I am so sorry,” you cursed.

Merlin, Seb radiated heat like a furnace, and your arm was somehow caught behind his back and…Get off him! You forced yourself up on your knees.

“It’s alright. No major injuries.” He insisted. “Just some ink.”

“Let me…” You scrubbed at his shirt, smearing it worse. “There’s surely some stain removal spell. Do you have another school shirt in the meantime?”

He grabbed your wrists, stilling your panicking hands you just now realized you’d been rubbing all over his chest and stomach. “I own more than one shirt.” He laughed. “It’s alright.”

You straightened. “Right. Of course you do.” Your attention fixed on your hands, stained black. “Well, let’s get this cleaned up before Ominis has a conniption.”

You moved to stand when his fingers tightened on your wrists.

“What—” Your mouth snapped shut.

You two were close. Very close. Mere inches apart, one of his legs at your side caging you in, his other tucked under him. You leaned forward on your knees so you naturally tipped forward.

Seb stared at you, and you stared back. The freckles dotting his cheeks and nose seemed darker, the candlelight flickering in his eyes. You fixated on the small scar at his upper full lip from fifth year. He’d earned that one from one of the Ashwinder camps.

The last time you’d been this close, he’d fallen asleep, head plopping in your lap when you’d been rained out in a cave last year. You’d been forced to sit on your hands to stop from stroking his stupid hair.

But this time he was awake, and his eyes studied you in that way he studied everything. As if you were a dark book he still hadn’t cracked. A forbidden spell he needed to cast. A secret he wanted all the power himself to wield. Had he always looked at you like that? Surely not. You couldn’t remember. You couldn’t think at all right now as the heat of his body rolled over you.

He tugged you closer, and your chest thudded against his, your heart screaming in your chest.

“I, uh,” you stuttered, licking your lips, and it made his eyes flick down to your mouth.

“You have ink on your chin,” he murmured.

You blinked, barely processing his words before his lips met yours. You sat motionless at first, two different sections of your brain warring; one in denial that this wasn’t another one of your embarrassing dreams, the other, screaming to kiss him back.

He released your wrists, moving to your hair. The sensation spread goosebumps down your arms, and your eyes drifted shut.

You responded instantly, mouth opening to him, hands prying at that stupid little crevice of skin between his buttons.

He jumped. “Your hands are cold,” he murmured against your lips.

“Sorry.” You pulled away.

“Come back,” he frowned. He grabbed your hands, pulling them deeper into his shirt as he fumbled with the buttons.

You gasped at his smooth warm skin, leaning forward before you could stop yourself, planting a kiss at the base of his neck. You’d never been so obsessed with freckles. The constellations of them running along his chest. You’d trace them if you hadn’t dumped the rest of the ink already.

“Fuck,” he groaned, digging into your hair again to pull your face back up to his. His fingers teased the hem of your shirt, and you pressed closer, your legs going to either side as you straddled him.

He slipped under your shirt, his hands burning as they traced up your back. You moaned into his mouth, shivering even if the Undercroft was suddenly scalding.

More. In the dreams this kept going, and you found your hands working automatically to yank his shirt over his head.

Merlin, forgive me. He kissed down your neck, teeth meeting the corner of your jaw and—

A slam of metal made you jump apart. The high squeals of Peeves laughing from somewhere above you in the DADA tower echoed through the Undercroft.

Your breaths calmed, and the two of you locked eyes for a long, silent moment.

“You have ink on your chin now.” You cleared your throat, smoothing your hair down. It’d been pulled straight from its pins, and you could not care less for the first time in your life. You were sitting in Sebastian Sallow’s lap, a mess, in the middle of the night. His mouth was looking well-loved, his skin unbearably soft, and you did everything not to tackle him to the ground.

You kissed. Kissed. More than kissed, really. After pining for years, you’d somehow ended up snogging half asleep in the Undercroft. What did this mean for the two of you now?

Seb wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “All that ankle talk really got to me.”

You shoved his face away, laughing. He grabbed you by the waist, yanking you down with him so you pressed against him. You brushed his curls from his eyes, and Merlin they truly were as soft as they looked. What conditioner was he using?

“I have nothing clever to say for once,” he murmured, studying your face. His eyes were calm, reverent in the candle glow. How a devil looked angelic was beyond you. For once you could openly gawk at him, and it wasn’t considered ill-mannered.

“Nothing at all?” you gasped. “I’m shocked.”

“Alert the Prophet, I know.” He rolled his eyes. “I always thought this would happen in the Undercroft, but for a while there I was banking on a damp old cave in the highlands.”

You sat up. “Wait. You’ve wanted this?”

He leaned on his elbows, eyebrow raised. “Is that so hard to believe? I didn’t do that for scientific discovery just now.”

You swallowed hard, unable to look at him suddenly as you thought of Weasley’s lecture. A witch should seek a courtship. Any premarital acts are frowned upon even in wizarding society. While they’re not as strict as Muggle tradition, there are certain rules that should be followed.

Woops. That was out the window.

But what would your classmates think if you strolled into class holding hands? Could you deal with the teasing? The watchful eyes?

“Let’s not tell anyone about this,” you blurted out.

He blinked, contemplating for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Sure. That would be for the best. Wouldn’t be able to sneak around the castle anymore with people paying closer attention.”

He had a point.

“Let’s clean up the mess. Ominis will faint if we leave inky fingerprints all over the place.”

A quick cleaning charm did the trick as if this had never happened. Seb’s steady kiss was the only proof convincing you this wasn’t another one of your horny dreams.

Would you have to tell him about those? Absolutely not.

You sat, tucked against each other, talking well into the night.

***

You shifted, and your neck protested with a sharp ache.

“Ugh,” you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

Where were you, and why did it feel like you’d been sleeping in the corridor?

You surveyed your surroundings, taking in rows of melted candles, pillars, and the triptych.

The Undercroft.

Something shifted beside you, tickling your cheek. Sebastian Sallow nuzzled into your shoulder, his shirt still askew.

You squinted at the clock.

The herbology exam.

“Wake up!” you shouted, stumbling to your feet as Seb jolted awake with a yelp.

“The exam! We fell asleep.” You fought on your boots, your tie, tossing Seb his uniform robe. “Hurry!”

He blinked, dazedly, following your instructions without question before the last of his sleepy fog left his brain.

“Oh shit.” He flung a stream of curses, fixing your tie and smoothing your hair as you tripped out of the Undercroft and into the DADA tower.

The two of you rushed to class, nearly taking out a Hufflepuff Prefect who threatened detention behind you. You would have laughed if it were different circumstances.

“Go!” You shoved Seb. He grabbed your hand, dragging you behind him as you stumbled down the steps to the atrium and through the greenhouse.

You caught yourself as you entered the classroom, straightening your robes and sweater, and taking a moment to calm your heavy breathing. Your classmates glanced at you with brief interest before returning to quizzing each other.

Gone were your typical pots and supplies, and each stool held a roll of parchment and a feathered quill and ink pot.

“Good luck,” Sebastian murmured. His hand grazed yours for mere seconds, but you might as well had misfired an incendio spell how it licked your body in heat. You itched at your cheek, hoping no one noticed you blushing.

“Good morning, my lovely pupils.” Professor Garlick swooped in from behind you, pinching your cheek before ruffling Garreth’s hair. She floated across the greenhouse to her podium.

It was too much energy for this time of morning, and it made you think once again of the constant whisperings of what plants Professor Garlick sampled to make her so pleasant all the time. Whoever cracked that secret would make a fortune.

“You will find twenty questions before you, and you will have the remainder of the class to complete the exam. Please answer in complete sentences; at least two paragraphs for each section. Once you are finished, you may exit the greenhouse. Do not wait for your friends in the atrium. The plants will tell me. You may begin.”

She snapped her fingers, and the scrolls unfurled.

It was a grueling hour. You swore half of the content hadn’t even been addressed in your readings, and you felt your heart sink with each question you left a strike beside to go back and review. This would not end well.

You were in the fictional portion of your exam—which meant completely pulling nonsense out of thin air and acting as if it made sense. Some students had finished—Ominis of course with a haughty smirk—but not many even with little time left in class.

“Excuse me,” Garlick’s voice rang through the quiet. “Why do you keep looking at your sleeve, Mr. Prewett?”

The scratching of quills stilled.

“I’m sorry, Professor.” Prewett tugged his sleeves down over his wrists. “There was a…beetle. It was distracting me moving about on the table.”

“Hmm.” Garlick tapped her chin. “I’d love to give the benefit of the doubt, but revelio.” She swished her wand, and you felt a zap along your hands. It wasn’t like ancient magic, no. Not at all. This was worse. Much worse.

“I’m sorry, Leander. The ink doesn’t lie. You have notes written on your arm.”

But Leander’s pleading was drowned out by a fit of gasps and giggles.

You gaped at the ink staining your fingers and palms, your clothes. Obvious handprints molded at your waist and chest, and you tugged your robes closed. They were the same marks from last night you’d spelled away. Your gaze snapped to Sebastian. He wore the matching stains on his own hands, up his neck, his chin, even at the corner of his mouth.

Oh Merlin. Oh no oh no oh no.

You stood abruptly, your chair crashing behind you as you desperately scrubbed at the ink. You grabbed the ink pot, the same you’d taken from the supply closet, reading the label as an anti-cheating variety.

How could you be so stupid?

There was no mistaking the stains. Anyone daft could guess you’d…

“Partaking in some extracurriculars, you two?” Garreth giggled, and you would have hexed him if you weren’t busy shielding yourself.

You’d been through harrowing, life threatening events. Ranrok, dark wizards, a goblin war, inferi, abduction, even death, but none had ever made you feel like this. As if you’d forgotten to put pants on this morning and stood at the head of the Great Hall singing off key.

Seb let his head dip toward the ceiling as he sighed, scrubbing his face. It gave a better view of all the marks on his neck. “By Salazar…”

“Class dismissed. We will deal with your essays later.” Professor Garlick raised her voice over the chatter, casting another spell as the parchments snapped closed, the chairs dumping the students from their seats.

“Mr. Prewett, I will detail your punishment in my office in one hour. You two, with me.”

Seb met your eyes, fighting his sheepish grin that you refused to return (and failed) as the corners of your mouth twisted upward.

And you’d been giggling over ankles. This? This would be the scandal of the year.

Garlick magicked two chairs beside each other and directed the two of you to have a seat. Seb sat closer than expected, his knee brushing your leg. He nudged your ankle with his boot, and you resisted the urge to kick him.

“Well, you weren’t cheating. I suppose that’s a positive.” Professor Garlick glanced over the ink splotches before casting a different spell to clean them. You’d have to remember that one. “Anti-cheating ink. Very helpful for tests. Especially big ones like the N.E.W.T.s. Professor Sharp warned me about your sticky fingers.” She cast you a sharply raised eyebrow with a smile. “But I thought Aesop was just being Aesop.”

Seb shot you a knowing look, and this time you did kick him. You’d had this conversation many times before. You’d developed the—hobby, as you liked to call it—of taking loose items. Even if they were loose behind locked doors and chests. If no one was going to claim them, why let it all go to waste? You’d only been caught a handful of times, but it saved you supplies, galleons, wardrobe items…it wasn’t hurting anyone. Except your own reputation now, it seemed.

“You’re lucky it was me and not Professor Weasley. She would have dragged you both to the Ministry for a marriage certificate.”

Seb choked, and you sank in your chair.

Why? Whyyy? You wished you could kick her too. Instead, you blushed, mortified, unable to even stomach sneaking a peak at Seb’s face.

“Oh, look at you two!” She clapped her hands together. “You both light up as red as tomatoes when you blush. Can you imagine the squishy bright cheeks your children would have?”

“Professor!” you hissed, sinking further in your seat. At this point you’d be under the table soon.

“Yes, yes, I suppose that’s enough, isn’t it? You’ll be dealing with the teasing enough from your peers. I will have to deduct ten points from your houses for theft and disruption of class. Now off you go. A whole exam scrapped.”

You stormed ahead, but Seb kept up with you easily. He looked rather cheerful for being caught, and you groaned.

“I am so sorry.”

He laughed. “Was all of this a ruse to take me off the market?” He smirked, eyes glittering as he tugged at your tie. You tugged his back harder, and he banged into you, having to catch you both from smacking into a Venomous Tentacula.

“No! I lost my last pot of ink, and I’d spotted some in a supply closet and thought I’d borrow it until I could get to Hogsmeade.” You sighed. “I didn’t think to read the label.”

“A kleptomaniac, if I’ve ever seen one.” He winked. Why was he being so calm about this? Were all boys the same? One good snog, and you could hex them and they’d still be grinning like fools.

You exited the greenhouse, and a crowd waited in the atrium. You nearly turned on your heel back into the classroom when the onslaught of howls and whistles greeted you.

“About time! When’s the Save the Date being sent out?” Garreth called, and Natty shooshed him.

“I better be invited.” Natty nudged you as you passed, and you shot her a withering stare. She shrugged with a grin.

“We will never hear the end of this.” You squeezed through the crowd.

“Not unless Hobhouse does something stupid again,” Seb murmured too close to your ear, and you jumped when his hand found yours. Did he like this attention? You’d thought it was a mutual agreement to keep this quiet, yet he basked in the teasing, playing along as you stared red faced and dumbfounded with no witty comebacks. So much for being clever.

Ominis appeared at the back of the crowd, the tip of his wand a red beacon, the guiding grace out of the masses.

“Thank goodness, Ominis.”

“Undercroft. Now,” he whispered, and you and Seb followed helplessly behind him.

***

“I’m speechless.” Ominis paced, and Seb caught your eye with a smirk. You heard those same words almost weekly, yet Ominis always found something to say regardless.

“Ominis—” Seb began.

“Shush!” Ominis pointed his wand at the two of you. His face was twisted in a scowl, striking against his carved features. “Traceable ink! Snogging when gossip of courting is at an all-time high. And in the Undercroft of all places!” He sniffed. “Desecrating a place like this. The audacity. This is a safe place. Are you two mad? Do you know what you’ve done to her reputation, Sebastian?”

“The Hero of Hogwarts? Troll hunter? War ender? That reputation?” He pinched your side.

You shoved him aside. “We were going to keep it a secret.”

“Oh please. The two of you would have been caught snogging in a broom closet by the end of the week. You’re about as subtle as Peeves.”

You chucked a pillow at him, which wasn’t fair as it hit him square in the face. Ominis cast a hex in the wrong direction. It bounced off a vase, and you dodged the rebound.

“He’s not wrong,” Seb murmured.

“Honestly, the two of you,” you huffed, exasperated. “I am an adult. I can make my own decisions, thank you very much.”

“What are you two going to decide now then, hm? The entire castle will know by noon that the two of you had your actual fingerprints all over each other.”

“Keep up appearances, I suppose.” Seb slung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close and planting a kiss on your cheek. Your heart nearly leapt through your throat.

“You’re being very calm about all of this, Sebastian. Are you sure you didn’t plan this?” Ominis asked.

“How could I?” He shot you a charming smile. “You think I’d really dump her remaining ink, knowing her klepto tendencies that she’d carelessly steal an anti-cheating ink pot without reading the label? Distracting her so she’d spill it over the two of us and then make my move so we’d be revealed to the class?”

You blinked back at him, dumbfounded. “When you word it like that…”

“I’ve had enough of you two.” Ominis grimaced. “I’m leaving. Do not expect any damage control from me on this one. You two can solve it for yourselves. Professor Weasley will be on you faster than a starving hound. Hope you’re prepared with an excuse.”

“Love you too, Omi,” Seb called after him.

Ominis waved his hand dismissively, muttering under his breath.

You said nothing else until you heard the gate closed.

“So how long would you like to wait before we make appearances again?” Seb asked. “Skip classes for the day? We can go to Hogsmeade. Or the Forbidden Forest. Your choice.”

You ripped from his hold, searching the Undercroft.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for my last ink pot.” You shoved some books out of the way, checking beneath cushions, behind the triptych, but there was no sign of it. “That speech of yours was a little too detailed.”

“You really think I spent all that time setting this up?” he laughed, drifting to your side.

When you ignored him, he stopped you in your tracks, turning you to face him. “Not even a revealing charm? I’m insulted.”

“Good idea.” You cast revelio, but no ink pots appeared.

“You’re delightful when you’re delusional.” He took your face in his hands, thumbs tracing your cheeks. “Is it really so bad the whole school knows I like you?”

You paused, a silly smile spreading across your face. “You like me?”

He tilted his head, grinning. “I thought that was obvious at this point, Love.”

You searched his face for some sort of joke or trick, but at his earnest eyes you relented. “Damn you, Sallow.” He laughed at that, pressing his lips to yours. “I guess it isn’t the worst thing that everyone knows. I just wish it wasn’t in such an embarrassing way. At least all these witches know now if I catch them ogling you again, I’ll hex them into an early graduation.”

“Ogling me? Who?” He raised an eyebrow with a wicked glint in his eye.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, now I have to know.”

“Absolutely not!”

You broke away from him, and he chased after you between the pillars until you tripped over the victimized pillow you’d hurled at Ominis. Seb met you halfway, and you found yourself pressed against him, kissing him as if you’d been doing this for the last two years.

What you didn’t know was behind the tallest stacked crates near the Undercroft entrance, some splattered ink stained the inside of a dusty old vase.

#I feel like I've been posting all screenshots lately so have an old dusty oneshot instead lol #I do have new oneshots in the work I just write slow lol #low key want to rewrite this because I write much better than this but TOO LATE I MUST LIVE IN THE BED I MADE OR WHATEVER #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy oneshot #sebastian sallow fanfic

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