Ashes and Dust

The wind itself seemed to pause at Ash's words as if the very Earth was listening. They knew she'd come back here. Her magic thrummed in response to her panic and fear, a surge that set her insides aflame.

Sebastian stood upright, their interlocked fingers hauling her with him. His eyes scanned the trees, no noise slipping from his lips. She knew she should do the same— should search the area— but she couldn't focus, couldn't keep her mind from reeling.

Why clean it all up? Why not lay in wait for her return?

What message was Harlow sending?

There was something they didn't want her to find. 

Her mind raced through the bloodied images in her mind of the camp as Sebastian pulled them back to back— his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. A glinting image stuck to the forefront of her mind—

The silver.

"We need to go."

She rasped the words out, and Sebastian wasted no time yanking her to his chest as the squeezing darkness swept around them.

As they apparated she couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching them after all. 

Their feet hit the ground and Ash lurched to the side at the nauseating feeling rushing through her. Her knees hit the dirt and she emptied the contents of her stomach in the weeds beside her. Vanilla macarons. Delicious. 

"I guess you were telling the truth about getting ill."

Ash shot Sebastian a vulgar gesture over her shoulder as she heaved again. She heard him chuckle as he crouched beside her and then his warm hands were rubbing small circles on her back.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before her eyes trailed upwards from the grass beneath her. Her eyes darted around, attempting to take in her surroundings but finding herself confused on their location.

"Where are we?"

She murmured the words, and Sebastian simply stood and held a hand out for her to take. She looked upwards at him, the now rising moon painting his features in swaths of shadowed starlight. She took his hand and let him help haul her upright.

Their hands lingered for only a moment before they dropped back to their sides. Sebastian turned and began walking down a dirt path, even in darkness seemingly knowing the way. She tentatively followed, her curiosity outweighing any lingering feelings of dread from the poacher camp.

The path led them through a field, Ash's eyes eventually adjusting to the darkness around them. She didn't bother casting lumos, Sebastian seemed as if he could lead them blindly. He was completely silent as they walked, and though Ash had a million questions running through her mind, she stayed silent as well. She nearly bumped into Sebastian when he suddenly stopped walking, his hand reaching out to brush the short stone wall in front of him.

His fingers brushed slowly over the worn stones before he pulled his hand away and continued on the path that cut through the wall. She could make out a cottage in the distance, and her eyes flickered between the house and Sebastian's tense back in front of her.

Where had he brought them?

Sebastian continued his silent trek as they reached the front of the cottage. No light shone from the interior. She could scarcely make out any features of the rough hewn stone cottage in the moonlight and made to repeat her earlier question when he finally turned to face her.

"This is where I grew up."

His voice was barely a murmur, so quiet that the wind could have blown the words away. She blinked in response, her words dying on her tongue.

He had brought them to his home.

"Why did we come here?"

The questions rolled off her tongue, many more questions now waiting their turn in her mind. Does he come here often? Is this where he had stayed since the incident fifth year?

Did memories of his childhood leave him feeling empty and raw the way hers did?

He turned to the door as he answered, unlocking it with a series of taps with his wand, "We needed to apparate somewhere they wouldn't know about. The grounds outside of Hogwarts was too obvious a choice if we were being followed."

He pushed the door open and flicked his wand, bathing the dark interior in a warm light. Ash tentatively crossed the threshold, her eyes flickering around the room.

The cottage was quant, a warmth emanating not just from the fireplace as Sebastian set the logs ablaze, but from the very walls themselves. The living room held two armchairs and a large sofa all situated around the stone fireplace. The kitchen branched off to the left, and a long hallway led to what she assumed were the bedrooms.

Ash stood in the entrance, her eyes transfixed on the multitude of portraits hung across the walls. A portrait of a dark haired witch was situated on the cream colored walls in the living room, a soft smile captured on her face. It was Sebastian's smile. Beside her, a wavy dark haired wizard captured with a knowing glint in his eyes. Those were Sebastian's brown eyes.

Family portraits hung the wall opposite, portraits of a young Sebastian and Anne sitting on the laps of their parents. Sebastian and Annes pinkies were interlocked in almost all the paintings.

"Do you want something to drink?"

Ash snapped her attention back to Sebastian. He was standing near the kitchen counter, his eyes locked on her as if he'd been watching her reactions. She noticed he avoided staring at the wall of portraits, his entire body near rigid.

Her nerves were set alight the moment she stepped foot inside. She was here. In Sebastian's childhood home— a home he rarely spoke of beyond that his parents had died in the cellar when he and Anne were eleven.

She shook her head but let an attempt at a smile cross her lips, "Not unless you have whiskey." A piss poor attempt at a joke.

Sebastian seemed to relax slightly at her comment and he walked back into the kitchen. She hesitated, still standing in the doorway, before slowly stepping further into the home. She walked towards the family portraits hanging on the wall. Her eyes focused on the chubby cheeked boy, his freckles seemingly thicker in his youth.

"There's no whiskey, but I found this."

She turned her head at his voice and saw the bottle of wine held in his hand. He raised an eyebrow in question and she shrugged.

"I guess that will do."

She attempted another tease to alleviate the thick tension building in the house— alleviate the tightness in his jaw he was trying so desperately to hide. He nodded and turned back towards the kitchen. She managed a step towards him as she spoke quickly.

"We could go back now. We don't have to stay—"

"If someone were watching us then they could wait all night around the appartation line near Hogwarts." He cut her off without so much as a glance behind him. "We'll stay here tonight and apparate in the morning."

Her throat bobbed as he stepped back into the kitchen once more. She turned her attention to the fireplace and sank onto the small couch. Her fingers drummed against her knees, the deep blue trousers soft under her fingertips. The tense silence in the house was eating her alive, broken only by the cracking of the logs in the hearth in front of her.

Minutes later Sebastian returned to the living room with two goblets and the bottle of wine. He sat the goblets down on the low lying table in front of her before he positioned himself on the far end of the couch. He lifted the wine bottle to his mouth before he bit down on the cork and yanked it out.

He poured them both a glass. Her eyebrows raised as he filled it damn near the brim. She didn't complain— would never complain about an overabundance of alcohol. Her attention moved from her goblet to Sebastian's face as he dropped the cork from his mouth and clenched it in his fist.

The silence between them was charged, a tension brought on from what she assumed was stirred memories of his youth. She watched as Sebastian grabbed his goblet and gulped down half of its contents in one go. Her magic stirred as she watched the crimson liquid sloshing in the goblet, so reminiscent of blood—

"Are you attempting a record of fastest intoxication?"

She picked up her own goblet as she let the tease bubble from her mouth, stopping her thoughts before she let herself spiral. Sebastian's lips twitched with the ghost of a smile, "Who's the current record holder? You?" He finished off the rest of his goblet and her eyes trailed down to his throat as he swallowed.

"Oh absolutely, I'm well versed in the art of speedy intoxication."

She flashed a small smile before sipping on her wine, a grimace replacing the smile on her face at the bitter taste. She kept her eyes fixed on him, not letting herself look into the goblet, not letting herself thing about the deep burgundy—

Sebastian glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow, "Wine isn't your poison I take it?"

Ash shook her head with a chuckle as she continued to slowly sip on her wine, "I've always thought wine was overrated. Takes too much to get you drunk, and leaves you with a massive headache the next morning. Firewhiskey is more... efficient."

"Is that your professional opinion, Cendrillion?"

His mouth was pulled into a smirk as he poured himself another glass as she nodded, "I am a professional drunkard after all."

He snorted at that, his eyes flickering over to her with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. He raised the refilled goblet to his lips but didn't sip, "Maybe I should have fixed you some tea then, instead of feeding your affliction."

She shrugged and sipped on her wine. Sebastian gulped down another glass and Ash turned her attention towards the portrait of his mother. Her dark green eyes seemed to almost watch them, though her gaze didn't feel unwelcome—the softness painted within those eyes an invitation almost. The paintings weren’t charmed, which surprised her. She assumed all Wizarding households had moving portraits. But these were still, and she appreciated them more for it. 

She sank against the cushions of the couch as the silence enveloped them, broken only by the sound of Sebastian refilling his goblet once more.

"When was the last time you were here?"

The question was quiet as it left her mouth and she quickly tossed back half her glass before she could apologize for the intrusive words.

He paused in his motions and she saw his eyes bore holes into the table. He set his glass down and took a deep breath, "I came back the summer after fifth year when the property transferred from Solomon to me as the first born son of my parents." He paused, the name of his uncle sounded like ashes in his mouth. "Before that I hadn't been here since my parent's death."

Ash had never been good at comforting. It was a skill she sorely lacked. However she slipped her left hand from around the chalice and reached across the couch before gingerly grabbing his hand. He tensed at the touch before his attention flickered up to her. She watched his face relax as he interlaced their fingers and laid back against the cushions with a heavy breath.

She copied his motion and relaxed against the back of the couch, her thumb softly brushing over the back of his hand. She let the silence blanket them. The feverish turmoil inside her quieted as she spoke.

"I grew up in an orphanage."

She whispered the words, her eyes gazing up towards the pitched ceiling. A secret for a secret. She felt him still beside her at the revelation. 

She continued talking before she lost her courage— before her past swallowed her up and consumed her fully.

"Saint Mary's Home for Children.” She sucked in a breath, "I was left there at three years old— or so I was told, I don't really remember."

She could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face but she kept her eyes focused on the ceiling. The memories flashed before her eyes— soil brown eyes and a thick mop of curls, a lopsided smile, screaming and hurting and—

"Are the scars from—"

"Yes."

She cut off his murmured question quickly. Yes the scars were from exactly what he imagined. She didn't want to hear him say the words—

Headmistress Beckett dragged Ash down the hall, her pace furious as she opened her office door and pulled her stumbling form into the room.

Ash's heart pounded, her body trembling, but she numbly began unbuttoning the oversized and tattered dress hanging from her small frame. The dress pooled to the floor right as the Headmistress slowly opened her wardrobe and pulled out the switch.

"You know what happens to naughty children, Asha."

"How many times?"

Sebastian's words snapped her from her memories and she blinked a few times as her mind reeled. She counted the dark wood rings embedded in the ceiling as she spoke, "I don't remember anymore."

He fell silent at her answer and she glanced down towards the table as she reached her free hand for her goblet. She raised the glass to her lips, the bitter taste now welcomed. She quickly polished off the glass as Sebastian fingers tightened their grasp around hers.

"I'm sorry you were alone, I'm sorry you had to go through that—"

"I wasn't alone."

Her words ripped from her before she could stop them. Another secret then. A half-truth. Sebastian had always been good at yanking her secrets from her with little effort. She remembered how she had revealed her ancient magic and entanglement with Rookwood her first week at Hogwarts.

"I wasn't alone."

She repeated the words and dared a glance to Sebastian. He was staring at her, his brown eyes filled with a sorrow she was tired of causing. She looked back towards the ceiling as he stroked his thumb across the back of her hand.

"Harlow is planning something. Something bigger than just poaching."

She mumbled the words as she leaned forwards to pour herself another glass. She was tired of dredging her past up tonight. She had emptied enough of herself. Sebastian blinked a few times at her change of topic but he didn't protest. Instead he took the practically empty bottle from her hands gingerly and poured both of them another glass. She felt like a child playing at being an adult, hands small as they wrapped around her goblet. Like two children, sneaking alcohol, waiting to be caught. 

"Do you think what he is planning relates to the repository?" He whispered as he lifted the goblet to his lips.

Harlow had never seemed to know about the repository. Sure, he had worked with Rookwood fifth year but it was Rookwood calling the shots and above that there was Ranrok. She had always assumed Harlow the low man on the totem pole.

And yet...

And yet he had goblin silver in a poaching camp. A decimated poaching camp that he had thoroughly cleaned up, but she had seen it that day.

"There was goblin silver in that camp, I remember seeing it." She broke the silence and lifted the goblet to her lips, a flush beginning to spread across her cheeks as the wine flowed heavy in her veins. "The silver was originally used to craft the repository during Isidora's time. Fifth year they were using silver to control ancient magic through Ranrok's armor, and through wrought collars on dragons."

Sebastian stared at her, his eyes flickering across her face, "Harlow doesn't know you took the magic from the repository."

She shook her head. There was no way anyone knew. Anyone who was in that chamber under Hogwarts died that day, and Harlow had already been sent to Azkaban.

"No, there is no way he knows. If he is after the ancient magic then I assume he's going to start where Rookwood left off..." She paused for a moment as her mind began reeling. Rookwood died without knowing the location of the final repository so the only way Harlow could know...

She lifted her head to Sebastian, the words rasping from her throat—

"He's going after Bragbor's journals."