Hogwarts Legacy Fic Requests

Saturday mornings were meant for sleeping in. They were also, as it turned out, meant for stealing your boyfriend’s sweater.

Which was why, as you trudged into the Great Hall, still a little groggy from falling asleep in the Undercroft last night, you were engulfed in the oversized, worn-soft fabric of Sebastian Sallow’s favorite sweater. It was slightly too big—long enough to brush your mid-thigh, the sleeves swallowing your hands—but that was precisely why you’d taken it. It smelled like him, felt like him, and most importantly, it was comfortable.

You didn’t even hesitate when you reached the Slytherin table, sliding onto the bench beside Sebastian with a sleepy hum, fully prepared to load up your plate with eggs and toast.

You made one fatal mistake.

You didn’t look at him first.

Because if you had, you would have noticed the way he’d gone completely still, his goblet of pumpkin juice frozen halfway to his lips. You would have seen the way his dark eyes locked onto you with something between awe and unholy amusement, his smirk sharpening like a blade.

Instead, you reached for a piece of toast.

And that was when Sebastian lost his entire mind.

“Is that my sweater?” His voice was deceptively casual. Too casual.

You barely spared him a glance, still too focused on your breakfast. “Mhm.”

A sharp, disbelieving laugh left him, low and delighted. You should have been alarmed. “You’re wearing my sweater,” he repeated, but this time louder, as if announcing it to the entire Great Hall.

At that, you paused mid-bite, chewing slowly as you finally turned to look at him. His grin was positively feral, his chest puffed up with unmistakable pride, as if you had just declared your undying love for him in front of the entire school.

"I wear your clothes all the time," you pointed out, blinking at him.

Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head, leaning in like you’d just said the most wildly incorrect thing in the world. “No, no, you steal my clothes all the time.” His fingers toyed with the sleeve of the sweater, plucking at the fabric with exaggerated interest. “But you never wear them out. Not where people can see.”

You frowned, because that wasn’t true—except, when you really thought about it, you did tend to limit your thefts to the common room or the Undercroft. You wore his jumpers when you curled up on the couch to study, wrapped yourself in them when you'd sneak into the common room late at night to snuggle by the fire with you, sometimes even slept in his shirts when he lent them to you after particularly rainy walks back from Hogsmeade.

But he was right. You’d never just… strolled into the Great Hall wearing something of his.

“Alright,” you admitted, narrowing your eyes. “So what?”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, shaking his head with something that looked an awful lot like adoration, but in true Sebastian fashion, he let the smugness overpower it. “So, this is a big deal,” he declared, so loud you were sure half the Slytherin table could hear.

Ominis, who had been blessedly silent so far, let out a heavy sigh, already rubbing his temples.

“Sebastian,” you warned.

He ignored you entirely. His elbow hit the table as he turned to face the others, shamelessly gesturing at you as if you were some kind of grand prize. “Do you all see this?” He tapped the collar of the sweater, his grin turning downright predatory. “She’s wearing my sweater.

A few students spared him tired glances. Garreth, sitting all the way across the hall, snorted into his tea. “We know,” he called. “We heard the first time.”

Sebastian, as expected, ignored Garreth entirely. He was still staring at you, positively radiating smug satisfaction. You could already see where this was going.

So, naturally, you tried to stop it before it could get worse.

"Sebastian," you said again, voice edged with warning.

He only grinned wider. "No, but do you understand what this means?" He turned to Ominis, who was now sitting perfectly still, like a man bracing for a storm. "Do you understand what this means?"

Ominis inhaled sharply, pressing his fingers against his temple as if warding off a migraine. "Please don’t involve me in this."

Sebastian beamed. "It means she wants people to know she’s mine."

Your entire body tensed. "Sebastian—"

"I mean, it’s one thing to steal my sweaters in private," he continued, ignoring you entirely, "but to wear it out in public? In the Great Hall? In front of everyone? I don’t think I’ve ever been so honored."

Imelda, who had been unfortunately seated within earshot, huffed. "Merlin’s sake, Sallow, we get it. She’s your girlfriend. She has been for two bloody years. Shut up about it."

Sebastian turned to Imelda, utterly undeterred. "Ah, but you see, Imelda, this is different. This isn’t just dating—this is public declaration." He gestured dramatically to you, his smirk stretching wider. "This is the undeniable, unavoidable proof that she is hopelessly in love with me."

You leveled him with a flat look. "You’re lucky I am in love with you, or I’d hex you right now."

Sebastian’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "See?" He pointed at you, like that somehow proved his point. "Even when she threatens me, it’s with affection."

Across the table, Ominis let out a long-suffering sigh and reached for his goblet. "It is far too early for this."

"Too early?" Sebastian scoffed. "Ominis, how can you say that? This is the best morning of my life."

"That’s sad," Imelda muttered.

But Sebastian didn’t even hear her, because something had shifted in his expression. His smugness momentarily faltered, his brown eyes narrowing as he took a closer look at you. Not at the sweater this time, but at your neck.

More specifically—at the silver chain peeking out from beneath the thick fabric.

His gaze darkened with realization. "What’s that?"

Your stomach dropped.

You scrambled to tuck the chain further beneath the sweater, but it was too late—Sebastian was already moving, quick as a snake, fingers darting out to catch the delicate silver chain before you could hide it.

His jaw practically dropped when he saw what was hanging from it.

His ring.

The one he had taken off weeks ago—the one you had absently pocketed, intending to give back but never quite managing to part with. The one you had kept. and worn around your neck.

Sebastian stared at it, utterly still, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might actually be speechless. But then his lips split into the most devastatingly pleased grin you had ever seen.

"Oh," he breathed, voice thick with satisfaction. "Oh, this is even better."

Ominis let out a strangled noise, already rising from his seat. "No."

You barely had time to react before Sebastians fingers completely curled around the ring, lifting it just slightly from where it rested against your collarbone. He rolled the silver band between his fingers, turning it over like he couldn’t quite believe it. His face was a picture of boyish delight, an impossible mix of smugness and pure affection.

"You’re wearing my ring," he said, and for the first time since this conversation began, his voice wasn’t teasing. It was something softer, something real.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very warm under his gaze. "Sebastian—"

He let out a breathless laugh. "She’s wearing my ring," he repeated, this time louder, turning to the unfortunate souls still at the table.

Garreth choked on his tea. Imelda groaned.

Ominis pressed his palms against the table. "I am leaving."

Sebastian, ignoring everything else, lifted the ring just slightly higher, his fingers brushing against your neck. His smirk returned.

"You know," he mused, "in some cultures, this would be considered a marriage proposal."

You shoved him.

He barely moved, his grin only widening.

Garreth, still watching from across the hall, just shook his head. "You are the worst."

Sebastian sighed blissfully, slipping an arm around your waist like he was claiming you. "And yet, I am the one with a girlfriend wearing my ring. What a shame for the rest of you."

Ominis slammed his hands onto the table. "FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN, WE KNOW!"

You sighed, heavily and dramatically, rubbing a hand down your face. “I’m so sorry,” you muttered to the others at the table. “Truly. I didn’t mean to trigger this.”

Ominis groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You say that, and yet you continue to date him.”

Imelda just shook her head. “We should have him fitted for a muzzle.”

Garreth gave you a weak thumbs-up. “I mean, it’s entertaining, at least.”

Sebastian, completely unbothered, was still fiddling with his ring around your neck, looking downright pleased with himself. “Oh, don’t listen to them,” he cooed, tilting his head at you, brown eyes warm with mischief. “They’re just jealous. I mean, really, who wouldn’t want a girlfriend who parades around in their clothes and wears their ring like some devoted little wife?”

You groaned this time, fully tilting your head back in exasperation.

“I am not your wife, Sebastian.”

He grinned. “Yet.”

That did it.

With a sharp huff, you reached up to unhook the clasp of your necklace, fully intending to take the ring off and put an end to whatever this was before it spiraled any further.

Sebastian gasped, loudly, like you had just personally betrayed him. “No—wait—”

But you knew him, and you were already shifting to your feet, which meant that when he lunged to stop you, you bolted.

The bench scraped loudly against the floor as you twisted out of his reach, barely dodging his fingers as you scrambled out from behind the Slytherin table.

“Oh, hell no,” Sebastian growled, already moving to chase after you.

The entire Great Hall paused, dozens of students watching as you sprinted for the exit, Sebastian hot on your heels.

Imelda rolled her eyes, reaching for her goblet. “I give her thirty seconds before he catches her.”

Garreth called, stroking his chin like he was deep in thought. “I dunno. She’s got the fear of being publicly proposed to on her side.”

Ominis just scoffed, going back to his breakfast like this wasn’t even worth acknowledging. “I hope Sebastian trips.”

Meanwhile—

You burst out into the corridor, your laughter echoing off the stone walls as you darted between students, shoving past a startled group of Ravenclaws.

Sebastian was right behind you.

“Oh, you’re dead!” he called, voice edged with amusement—and maybe just a little bit of menace.

“Not if you can’t catch me!” you shot back, heart hammering as you bolted down the next hallway, weaving between students who gawked at the spectacle.

A few younger Slytherins pressed themselves against the walls, watching in bewilderment as their Head Boy—someone who was technically supposed to be a responsible figure—chased his girlfriend through the castle like a lunatic.

The way Sebastian was gaining on you was both thrilling and concerning. Your mind scrambled for an escape route. Left toward the library? No, he’d just corner you between the shelves. Down to the courtyard? Too open—he’d tackle you to the ground.

Then—

The staircase.

A flash of inspiration struck, and you lunged for the nearest moving stairwell, barely catching the railing as the steps lurched beneath you.

Sebastian cursed as he skidded to a stop, just missing the stairwell before it groaned and began shifting away.

He stared at you, indignant, chest rising and falling from the sprint. “Oh, you little—”

You grinned breathlessly, gripping the railing as the gap between you widened. “Guess I win,” you teased, watching his jaw tick.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

And then—

To your absolute horror—

He jumped.

You barely had time to shriek, your brain struggling to catch up to what your eyes had just witnessed—because surely, surely, your boyfriend had not just jumped onto a moving staircase like a complete maniac.

But then Sebastian landed on the railing, clambering up with a look of sheer determination, and reality slammed back into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered, spinning on your heel and bolting again.

“Get back here!” Sebastian bellowed, already launching himself onto the stairwell, closing the gap faster than you’d like.

Your eyes darted wildly across the open space below, scanning for another staircase—any staircase—you could jump down to before he inevitably caught you.

There—

Just beneath you, a staircase stretched toward the third floor landing. It was still far, but if you could time it right—

With a sharp breath, you vaulted over the railing.

Sebastian shouted your name, his voice cracking with something between shock and frustration as you dropped, your stomach lurching.

The impact rattled you, but you stumbled forward, pushing through it as you hit the third floor and took off running again.

Sebastian cursed so violently from above that you were fairly certain he just lost house points for language alone.

Then—because he was an idiot—he jumped too.

You heard the thud of his landing, followed by another string of expletives, but you didn’t stop to look.

You ran.

Students turned in confusion as you barreled through the corridor, robes billowing, heart hammering as you veered toward the next set of stairs.

Behind you, Sebastian gained.

"That was stupid, even for you!" you shouted over your shoulder.

"And your jump was smart?"

"It was strategic!"

Sebastian laughed, wild and exhilarated. "I love you," he called, voice full of amusement, "but I’m going to fucking catch you!"

You shrieked as he lunged forward, twisting away just in time, his fingers brushing your sleeve before you slipped past him, nearly slamming into a startled group of Hufflepuffs.

A few older students stood off to the side, watching with amused curiosity.

“Do they do this often?” a fifth-year asked.

Adelaide Oakes nodded sagely. “Unfortunately, yes.”

You sprinted down another set of stairs—you were so close to the Entrance Hall now, but the sound of Sebastian’s boots pounding against the stone behind you meant you had seconds before he caught you.

You needed a distraction.

A quick scan of the hall—and then, like a gift from Merlin himself, you spotted them.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team, fresh off the pitch, were making their way inside, brooms slung over shoulders, arms full of gear, chatting amongst themselves as they filtered through the corridor.

Perfect.

With a burst of speed, you dove straight for them, weaving between the tangle of players, brooms, and equipment like your life depended on it.

“Oi—what the hell?” one of them yelped as you ducked under a Beater’s arm, narrowly avoiding a swinging broomstick.

Sebastian cursed loudly behind you, nearly colliding with one of the Chasers. "Move!!"

But it was too late.

Sebastian was tall, broad, and not nearly as nimble in a crowd.

You heard the thud of him crashing into a Gryffindor, the swearing, the clatter of equipment scattering across the floor—

And just like that, you disappeared.

You darted left, slipping behind a pillar, pressing yourself against the stone as you caught your breath.

Sebastian was still somewhere in the tangle of disgruntled Quidditch players, trying to fight his way through.

You peered around the edge, watching as he spun in a circle, chest rising and falling, scanning the hall for you.

His eyes were wild, his brow furrowed, frustration practically radiating off him.

You grinned.

Sebastian Sallow, brilliant duelist, cunning strategist, top of his class—completely lost.

"Where is she?" he demanded, still searching.

"Mate, I don’t know," a Gryffindor groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "But you just body-slammed half the team!"

Sebastian ignored him, turning sharply, scanning again, his jaw ticking.

You held your breath.

Then his gaze snapped to where you were hiding.

Your heart stopped.

You bolted.

"Oh, you absolute menace—"

Sebastian launched himself forward and you squealed, laughter bubbling out of you as you sprinted for the doors, pushing them open as you burst into the courtyard.

The moment the warm spring air greeted you, you knew you were at a disadvantage.

The open space was too much. No more staircases, no more crowds, no more pillars to duck behind—just you, the sprawling stone path, and the very determined Slytherin chasing after you.

Sebastian was stronger. Faster. And, to your ever-growing frustration, incredibly smug about it. So you needed to be smarter.

A plan was already forming in your head as you pushed forward, feet pounding against the cobblestone. Behind you, Sebastian was gaining again, his longer strides eating the distance between you.

"You’re running out of space!" he called, voice dripping with amusement. "Where do you think you’re gonna go?"

You grinned to yourself.

The fountain was just up ahead—one of the larger ones, its stone base deep enough to hold a proper pool of water, its spouting center surrounded by intricate carvings.

You veered towards it.

Sebastian, just as you expected, followed.

You heard the smirk in his voice. "A dead end? Really?"

You didn’t answer. Didn’t even look back. Instead, you slowed, just slightly, making it seem like you were tiring. Like you had no choice but to stop.

And, of course, Sebastian took the bait.

You could practically feel his cockiness spike, could hear the overconfidence in his steps as he surged forward, ready to pounce.

"You should've known," he taunted, "you can’t outrun me."

Then, just before he could grab you, you pivoted on your heel, sidestepping at the last possible second.

Sebastian had zero time to react. His own momentum betrayed him—his hands missed you entirely, his boots slipped against the wet stone edge—

And then, with a loud splash, Sebastian Sallow went straight into the fountain.

The world paused.

For a single, glorious moment, there was silence.

Then—

You screeched with laughter, already sprinting away, the sound of splashing and furious cursing echoing behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Sebastian emerging from the water, soaked from head to toe, his jaw hanging open in disbelief.

"You—" He blinked, water dripping from his hair, his shirt completely plastered to his skin. "You little—that was foul play!" Sebastian shouted after you, struggling to haul himself out of the fountain.

"You should’ve seen your face!" you howled.

"I am so hexing you for this!"

"Good luck with that!"

Soaked to the bone, dripping from head to toe, and still struggling to wring water from his sleeves, Sebastian was left with no choice but to chase after you again, fueled by sheer, unbridled determination.

You, however, had no intention of letting him catch you anytime soon.

Your laughter rang through the courtyard as you sprinted towards the covered bridge, your heart hammering with exhilaration. Students had begun gathering in small groups, exchanging amused whispers as they watched the spectacle unfold.

Sebastian was seething, but in that wild, playful way that made your stomach flip.

“You are in so much trouble!” he bellowed, his shoes squelching loudly against the stone path as he stormed after you.

“I don't know,” you called back over your shoulder, grinning as you reached the entrance to the bridge. “You look a little slow, Sallow!"

“Slow?” he repeated, the disbelief in his voice nearly making you double over from laughter. “You’re taunting me now?”

You grinned, giddy with victory, heart pounding as you neared the bridge’s midpoint. "What? Can’t handle a little truth?"

Sebastian growled, and that was when you knew you were done for.

He launched himself forward, closing the gap with terrifying speed.

"Shit—"

You tried to dodge, but this time, he was ready.

Sebastian snatched your wrist, yanking you back so suddenly that you gasped, your feet slipping beneath you. And before you could even process what was happening, you were spun, your back hitting the wooden beam of the bridge, Sebastian’s hands trapping you there.

You gasped, breath catching in your throat.

He was close. Too close.

His chest rose and fell with exertion, his soaked clothes clinging to his frame, his wet curls sticking to his forehead. Water still dripped from his sleeves, his collar, his hands, leaving dark stains against the wooden planks below.

And his eyes.

Oh.

His eyes.

Dark. Smoldering. Dangerous.

His fingers flexed against your wrists, his grip firm—but not tight. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to hold you there, to remind you that he had won.

You swallowed hard. "Sebastian—"

"Oh, no," he murmured, voice dangerously low, his lips twitching into something deadly. "Not this time. You're not gonna talk yourself out of this, love."

Your heart stuttered as you took him in, watched the water dripping from his hair and from the tip of his nose.

You bit your lip. "You’re still wet."

He huffed out a laugh his gaze flickering to your mouth before dragging slowly back up to your eyes.

"Yeah?" His voice was soft now, teasing. "Well, whose fault is that?"

Your stomach flipped.

He shifted closer, pressing you firmly against the beam, his breath warm against your cheek.

"I should make you pay for that," he murmured, voice laced with something wicked.

A thrill shot through you.

"Yeah? What's the plan then?" you asked, voice a touch breathless. "Gonna drag me back to the fountain? Hug me and get me all wet? Toss me in the Black Lake?"

Sebastian's smirk darkened, hooking a finger under the chain around your neck, his ring dangling between you.

"Who said anything about that kind of wet?"

Heat spiked up your spine, your entire body locking up as the meaning behind his words registered.

Sebastian just grinned, slow and devastating, clearly reveling in your reaction.

His voice dropped lower, velvety smooth. "What’s wrong?" His lips twitched. "You look a little flustered."

You gaped at him, at the absolute nerve—

"Unless you'd prefer a dip in the fountain instead?" He murmured, tilting his head, his smirk nothing short of lethal.

You stared at him, torn between sheer indignation and something far, far more dangerous.

Your pride refused to let you fold, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. But the heat pooling in your belly, the way your breath hitched under the weight of his gaze, the way he was looking at you—

Oh, you were in trouble.

Sebastian knew it, too.

He smirked, tilting his head just slightly, watching you war with yourself, his finger still hooked under your chain, rolling his ring between his fingers.

"Go on," he said. "Take your pick."

"Between drowning and…?" You trailed off, raising an eyebrow, pretending to be unaffected.

Sebastian hummed at your question, the sound deep, thoughtful—mocking. His smirk curled further as he slowly reeled you in, the chain around your neck tightening ever so slightly as he tugged you forward.

Your breath caught. Your nose brushed his. And his voice dropped to something low, something just for you.

"Let me show you."

And that was what finally made you admit it— you didn’t care at all that you’d lost. Because, Merlin help you, if this was losing, you never wanted to win again.