Hogwarts Legacy Fic Requests

The sun hung low over the Black Lake, casting everything in hues of gold, the water reflecting back a shimmering version of the sky. A warm breeze rolled across the grass, stirring the trees at the water’s edge, and carrying with it the promise of change.

Sebastian stretched out on the grass, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the sky. He wasn’t sure how long the two of you had been out here. An hour? Maybe two? Time moved differently today—slipping between his fingers even as he tried to hold onto it.

He turned his head slightly to glance at you, to trace the way the late afternoon sunlight kissed your skin, turning you golden at the edges. You had pulled your legs up slightly, bare feet grazing the grass, one hand resting lightly against your stomach, the other mindlessly toying with blades of grass.

You were wearing that pretty blue sundress—the one you had worn a handful of times over the years, usually on Hogsmeade weekends when the weather was nice. It clung to you in the way it always had. But for once, Sebastian wasn’t thinking about how it framed the plush curves of your body, how the neckline dipped just enough to make him forget himself. No—right now, all he could think about was what it meant.

Your wand was nowhere in sight. No uniform, either. No more robes, no more house colors, no more tie knotted at your throat. Because there was no need for them anymore.

It was such a simple thing, and yet his stomach twisted.

It’s over.

This place, these moments—the quiet stretches between classes, the familiar scrape of chairs in the Great Hall, the Undercroft filled with whispered plans and spells flickering in the dark—it was all slipping away, vanishing like smoke curling from a snuffed-out flame.

And you—Merlin, you—would walk out of the castle tomorrow, just like he would, and he had no idea what happened after that.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured.

Sebastian exhaled a laugh through his nose, trying to shove the feeling down. “That’s twice today you’ve pointed that out.”

You hummed, amused but unconvinced. “It’s rare.”

He felt you shift, propping yourself up on your elbows. When he glanced over, your were studying him the way you always did—curious, observant, like you could see straight through him to the things he wasn’t saying.

Sebastian rolled onto his side. “Alright,” he said, forcing some levity into his voice. “What’s your best memory of the last three years?”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s a hard question.”

“I’ll allow a top three, if you’re struggling.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Generous of you.”

“I try.”

You glanced up at the sky, thinking, as your fingers tapped against your stomach, the warm breeze teasing strands of your hair across your face. “Alright… let's see…" you hummed thoughtfully, a smile pulling on your lips. "Well, I'll never forget that night at the Three Broomsticks last year."

Sebastian’s brows lifted, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh, that night?”

You hummed, amused. “You know exactly which one I mean.”

He did.

He could still see the dim candlelight, smell the rich scent of butterbeer mingling with firewhiskey, hear the warmth of your laughter cutting through the noisy hum of the crowded tavern.

It had started off as a Saturday spent in Hogsmeade, nothing particularly special about it at first. Just the usual browsing through shops and eating too much candy. That night, the two of you snuck off to the Three Broomsticks long after curfew, claiming your usual booth near the back where you could talk in peace.

But that night had spiraled into something else entirely.

Sebastian could still see the flush on your cheeks, hear the unrestrained laughter spilling from your lips after he, five drinks in, had stood on his chair and, with absolutely no shame, started belting out a horribly off-key rendition of Odo the Hero.

The entire tavern had turned to watch. Patrons had been egging him on, slamming their fists against the table in time with the beat. And you?

You had tried—really tried—to keep a straight face, but the moment Sebastian dramatically grabbed a butterbeer bottle as a makeshift microphone and turned to you, winking mid-chorus, you had completely lost it, howling with laughter, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, Sebastian had thought, this is it. This was the moment he wanted to live in forever. Just this. You, beside him, always.

Of course, the moment had ended rather abruptly when the bartender had finally had enough, marching over and dragging him off the chair by the collar of his robe.

Now, lying beside you in the grass, Sebastian stared at your profile, watching the way you smiled softly at the memory.

"Certainly one of my best vocal performances, wouldn't you say?" he mused.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Sebastian, you forgot half the lyrics and improvised the rest.”

“I made it better.”

“You rhymed ‘hero’ with ‘butterbeer-o.’”

“Creative license.”

You laughed, and Sebastian swore he felt the sound of it in his ribs. Light and warm and real.

"One of mine," he said after a beat, "is when we when we snuck out to the Astronomy Tower in sixth year."

Your lips twitched, eyes still fixed on the sky. “You mean when we stole a telescope."

Sebastian huffed a laugh, propping himself up on his elbow. “Borrowed a telescope. With every intention of returning it.”

You turned to him, amusement dancing in your gaze despite your dry tone. “It’s still in the Undercroft.”

“Is it?” He feigned surprise, lips quirking. “How irresponsible of us.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I still can’t believe we didn’t get caught that night.”

Sebastian couldn't either.

He had always been good at slipping past prefects, at charming his way out of trouble when necessary. But that night had been different.

That night, you had pulled him by the hand through the castle, your laughter echoing in the empty corridors, and for once, he hadn’t been thinking about getting caught.

He had been thinking about you.

About the way your fingers had laced through his so easily, the way your smile had glowed under the moonlight when you finally reached the top of the tower.

He remembered the way you had sat cross-legged beside him, chin resting in your palm as you peered through the pilfered telescope, murmuring about constellations in that soft, content way you always did when it was just you and him.

But Sebastian had barely looked through the telescope that night. Couldn’t have cared less about the stars. Because, for him, the moment hadn’t been about what was in the sky. It had been about the way you had leaned against him, absentmindedly close. The way the night had felt endless, the two of you murmuring about everything and nothing, the warmth of your shoulder pressed into his. The way he had wanted to kiss you then—so badly, it had hurt.

And yet, he hadn’t.

Because he hadn’t been sure. Hadn’t been sure if what he wanted was something you wanted, too.

Now, looking at you, a year later, the last golden light of the evening painting you in soft warmth, he wondered if he had been an idiot.

No—he knew he had been an idiot.

"We probably should bring it back," you continued, letting out a sigh. "You know, before we leave and nobody even knows the Undercroft exists."

"Or," he said with a smirk, "we could leave it there. A relic for some unsuspecting student to stumble upon in a hundred years. Let them wonder why a perfectly good telescope was abandoned in a hidden room beneath the castle."

You snorted. "They'll probably assume it's cursed."

Sebastian smirked. "Even better."

That earned him a soft laugh, and he closed his eyes, letting the sound of it settle into his chest.

Then, after a moment—

"Alright," he murmured, voice quieter now. "Your next memory?"

You hesitated for a moment before answering, your voice dipping into something softer, something thoughtful.

"The day we met," you said finally. "Fifth year. My first Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

Sebastian huffed a quiet laugh; he’d never forget that day.

He had noticed you the second you stepped into the classroom—new, unfamiliar, carrying yourself with a quiet confidence that masked the careful way you took in the room. Assessing. Measuring. Cautious, but not uncertain. And gorgeous.

Everyone had been curious about you—the new student arriving in the middle of their education, something that almost never happened at Hogwarts. The murmurs had started before Hecat even entered the room, speculation thick in the air.

Sebastian had been curious, too. Not that he would have admitted it.

And then, you were paired off for a duel. With him.

Sebastian had smirked, rolling his shoulders as he stepped onto the platform, self-assured as ever. He had never lost a duel before.

And then—within seconds—everything changed.

Because you weren’t just skilled.

You were dangerous.

You met every spell he cast with effortless precision, deflecting with ease, dodging before he had even finished casting. And when you struck back, it was fast—calculated, efficient. He barely had time to block before you broke through his defenses.

And then, with one perfectly timed sidestep and a flick of your wand, his own was ripped from his grip.

It clattered to the floor. Silence filled the room. Sebastian had just stared. Stunned. Disarmed.

Beaten.

And after that? He had spent years trying to reclaim that loss.

It had become a ritual—Sebastian versus you, in class, at Crossed Wands, in secret training sessions that stretched long into the night.

And yet, after all that time, after dueling exams and real combat experience, he had never managed to best you.

Not once. Not even now, when he was the one becoming an Auror.

"You know," Sebastian muttered playfully, "I will get you back for that first duel."

You turned your head toward him, amusement flickering in your gaze. "Oh? Still holding onto that loss, are we?"

Sebastian smirked, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. "I’ve just been biding my time. Waiting for the perfect moment to take my revenge."

You let out a soft hum, lips twitching. "So what I’m hearing is that you’ve spent the last three years failing to beat me and now you need a dramatically timed rematch to soothe your ego?"

Sebastian scoffed, squinting up at you. "It’s not ego—it’s justice. Balance. The universe can’t just allow you to get away with this forever."

You grinned, shifting so you were mirroring his position, laying beside him. "And tell me, oh-Auror-to-be, when exactly do you plan to reclaim your honor?"

Sebastian opened his mouth, ready to quip back, but something about the way you were looking at him made the words catch in his throat.

The waning golden light clung to you, soft and warm, making the edges of you glow. Your expression still held traces of amusement, but beneath it, there was something quieter, something weightier—like you were trying to memorize the moment, like you knew it was slipping away too fast. Just like he knew it was slipping away too fast.

Sebastian felt it like a stone in his chest, heavy and sinking.

His smirk faltered.

"Tomorrow," he said. "We can have our rematch then."

And he needed you to agree. Because tomorrow, you wouldn’t be here. Tomorrow, you would walk out of these castle gates, out into the world, and after that—after that, he had no idea what would happen.

Sure, you’d promised each other a million times that nothing would change. That you’d write, that you’d visit, that you’d always make time.

But promises were easy. Promises were words spoken in stolen moments when the future still felt distant, when the weight of goodbye hadn’t yet settled into your bones.

And Sebastian knew—he knew—that the world had a way of pulling people apart, no matter how much they swore it wouldn’t.

That was what he was afraid of.

Because after tomorrow, there was no routine. No house tables in the Great Hall. No sitting beside you in class, no sneaking into the Undercroft, no excuse to find you. After tomorrow, the only thing tethering you to each other would be choice.

Would you choose him? Would you make time for him? Or would the days slip by, growing longer and longer between the times he saw you, until one day you were nothing more than a distant memory, a name on a letter, a familiar voice fading into something far away?

You turned your head toward him, your gaze steady, unreadable at first. And then—slowly, softly—you smiled.

"Alright," you murmured. "Tomorrow."

Sebastian’s chest tightened.

His throat felt thick, too tight, like if he tried to say anything, the words would catch and betray everything he wasn’t ready to admit. So instead, he forced himself to look away, dragging his gaze from the warmth of your expression and back to the sky above—the same sky that had once been brilliantly blue was now dimming into twilight.

Time was slipping.

The sun had set. The stars were taking its place. And tomorrow was one step closer.

Sebastian had spent years running toward the future—chasing after it, desperate to shape it into something he could control. Always planning, always scheming, always moving forward.

But now, he wanted to stop. He wanted to hold onto tonight, stretch it out indefinitely, keep you here beside him just a little longer.

Sebastian swallowed against the ache in his throat. "Alright," he said, voice quieter now. "Your last one. Your best memory."

You hesitated, just for a second, and then—

"This."

Sebastian turned his head sharply, meeting your gaze.

Your face was close, too close, your eyes warm but certain, no hesitation in them. You said it as if it were obvious, as if there were no other answer you could have possibly given even though this wasn’t nostalgia. This wasn’t a distant memory you could reminisce about years from now.

This was now.

Sebastian blinked.

"What... but— but that's not how this works."

"Why not?"

"Because—" He gestured vaguely between the two of you, grasping for words, for something solid to hold onto. "You’re supposed to pick something that already happened, not—" He broke off, exhaling sharply, because you were still looking at him like that.

Like you were waiting for him to understand. Like he was being dense.

"Sebastian," you murmured, and your voice was softer now, patient, like you were leading him toward something he should have seen all along. "I could have picked any number of things. Our duels. Quidditch matches. Sneaking through the castle after curfew. Or even that time you nearly got us eaten by a very territorial hippogriff—"

"That was not my fault—"

"But the thing is," you cut in, smiling, "those memories don’t stand out just because they were exciting, or dangerous, or something we weren’t supposed to be doing." Your smile softened. "They stand out because of you."

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard.

"It doesn’t matter if it was something thrilling, or reckless, or quiet—like right now," you continued. "It’s not about what we were doing. It’s about who I was with."

His throat went dry.

You held his gaze, unwavering. "Because as long as it’s with you, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. It’s always going to be my favorite memory."

Sebastian felt something shift inside him, like the air had been knocked from his lungs. Because he knew, knew, you weren’t just talking about the past.

You were talking about tomorrow. And every day after. You were telling him—without a single doubt in your voice—that you weren’t going anywhere. That you had already chosen him.

The silence stretched, and he stared. Openly. Unapologetically. In a way he never had before—never let himself before.

Because suddenly, all of it—all the stress, all the gnawing uncertainty, all the weight of tomorrow that had been pressing down on his chest for weeks—just... lifted.

Like the world had let him breathe again. Like the twilight wasn’t a countdown anymore, wasn’t a time bomb ticking away the last moments of something he couldn’t bear to lose.

It was something else now.

It was the eve of something new. Something just beginning. With you.

And Merlin, wasn’t that all he had ever wanted?

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized—

He had been leaning in.

Slowly, unconsciously, like something inevitable had already set itself in motion.

Merlin, you were closer now, and Sebastian's fingers twitched against the grass. He should say something. Should tell you everything he’s always felt.

But words felt useless, pointless when your lips were so close to his, when he could feel your breaths mingling with his own, and before he could second-guess himself, before he could hesitate—

He closed the distance.

His lips met yours.

And everything else ceased to exist.

Because God, the way you felt—

Soft and warm, lips pliant beneath his, tasting faintly of honeyed cream, still sweet from the slice of cake you’d shared earlier in the Great Hall.

And fuck, he wanted more.

More of this, more of you—more of the way your lips parted ever so slightly beneath his, more of the way his heart was slamming against his ribs like it had been waiting for this moment all along.

But then—

What the hell was he doing?

His eyes snapped open. His breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched against your cheek, and then, before he could think, before he could stop himself—

He jerked back.

His breath came fast, chest rising and falling as though he had just run across the entire castle. His hands were still hovering midair, like they had just now realized they no longer had anything to hold onto.

His mind was blank. Then racing. Then blank again.

"Shit."

His stomach dropped, panic clawing up his throat.

"I—Merlin, I’m sorry," he blurted out, voice higher, breathless. "I shouldn’t have—bloody hell, I didn’t mean to—"

You blinked at him, still dazed, lips parted, breath unsteady.

And Sebastian was spiraling.

Shit. Shit.

What had he just done?

He had kissed you.

You.

"That was—" He exhaled sharply, raking both hands down his face. "That was out of order—I wasn’t thinking, I—"

"Sebastian."

"I just—I don’t know what I was—" He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "I mean, I do know, but I wasn’t thinking, and now—now it’s—"

"Sebastian."

You were sitting up now, eyes locked onto him, but he was still spiraling, still freaking out because—

"I—bloody hell, I’m sorry, I—"

You grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him back in.

Sebastian barely had time to register what was happening before your lips crashed into his, firm, unwavering, silencing every frantic thought in his head in an instant.

He made a startled noise in the back of his throat, but then—then he melted.

Because there was no hesitation now. No doubt.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

And fuck, did he want you too.

His hands shot to your waist, gripping the fabric of your dress, pulling you closer, desperate to make up for the lost seconds he had spent panicking.

The kiss was deeper this time, hungrier, something that tasted like relief. Like finally.

Your hands fisted in the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself against him, and Merlin, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever felt in his life. The need, the want in it—like you couldn’t bear the thought of letting go either.

And when you finally pulled back for air, just enough for your forehead to rest against his, your lips still brushing his, you smiled.

"I lied," you whispered, voice warm, steady. "I think this might be the best memory."

Sebastian let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, his grip on you tightening.

"You," he started, voice hoarse, eyes flickering down to your lips, "are going to be the death of me."

"I don’t mind being your final act," you murmured, teasing but with something real beneath it.

And that—fuck, that—

Sebastian didn’t stand a chance.