Locked Away
“He’s going after Bragbor’s journals.”
Sebastian’s brow furrowed at her words, and she could practically see the gears turning in his mind.
She had told him fifth year, about the journals— had told him everything really. They had sat in the Undercroft the night after she had found out about the journal entries. She remembered how he had scribbled all of the information she threw at him on one of the many chalkboards in the room, filling it with half sentences and shorthand while she watched from her seat on the floor.
“So we’re assuming he doesn’t already have them?”
Sebastian leaned forward as he spoke, pulling her thoughts back to the present. Ash had never found Ranrok’s main base of operations fifth year, had never even thought to look for it after she slaughtered him. Another sloppy mistake. If Ranrok had kept the journals anywhere, she’d bet it would have been there. But if Harlow already had the journals…then it’d be no time until he found his way into the cavern beneath Hogwarts.
“We need to tell Professor Weasley.”
She had to force the words out. She didn’t want anyone else involved. But if Harlow was going to work his way into the school then she had to bite back her pride— her fear. Professor Fig had died because he got involved in this mess.
Her head was swimming, the wine not helping in the slightest with any planning. She glanced back towards Sebastian, his jaw set as he stared down at his empty goblet on the table, “Tomorrow’s Sunday, she’ll be cooped up in her office doing all the paperwork Headmaster Black forgot about I’m sure.” A small smirk tugged at her lips at his words, and he continued as his gaze flickered up to hers, “We can meet her first thing in the morning.”
Ash nodded and slowly let out a breath of relief. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but if the professors could get involved then maybe this wouldn’t all fall on her shoulders again. Maybe she could finish her seventh year in tact. Maybe they could handle this alone.
The fear still tugged at her insides, images of Professor Weasley’s lifeless eyes taking the place of Fig’s under Hogwarts.
She took another long sip from her goblet, the alcohol beginning to numb the sharpness of her fears. Her pain. It had been days since she’d had a drink and at this moment she couldn’t remember why she ever preferred being sober.
She let her head rest back against the couch and let it lull to the side as she stared at Sebastian. His gaze was focused on his goblet as he swirled the red liquid around. The veins in his hands has always been so prominent but now, in the firelight? She felt her throat dry up and quickly took another sip as her eyes trailed from his hands up his toned arms. His forearms were visible from how he rolled his sleeves. She remembered catching herself many time fifth year staring at his arms during classroom duels or their raids on poacher camps.
Her eyes kept moving upwards, his shoulders prominent through the tight white button down, his jawline sharp and tensed and his lips— pulled into a smug smirk.
Her eyes instantly snapped upwards and she found his gaze locked on her. Heat flooded her face, the wine clearly had yet to ebb her embarrassment away.
“Gawking is unbecoming you know.”
His low voice drew the words out before he polished off the rest of his wine. His eyes stayed locked on her as he set the goblet back down on the table.
“I wasn’t gawking.” She practically spat the words out in mortification, and she kept her eyes locked with his. Her vehement denial only caused his smirk to grow. She sent him a withering glare and a chuckle bubbled from his lips.
He leaned back against the couch, his arms stretching over the top and that infernal smirk still stretched across his lips. The fire casted a warm light over his face, causing his brown eyes to glow like amber. The fingertips of his right hand were close enough that she could feel the ghost of his touch against her shoulder.
She became acutely aware of her body. Her throat dried once more, and her fingernails dug into her palms. She could feel the multiple sets of eyes from the portraits practically boring into her.
The memory of them nearly pressed together in the potions closet only days ago flashed through her mind and she found her gaze dipping to his lips.
They were alone.
For a second she allowed herself to imagine it. She pictured herself scooting closer until their thighs brushed tentatively. His hand would raise and tuck a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear before he’d cup her jaw and pull her closer. Her eyes would flutter closed and then—
“Why would you ever let Weasley court you?”
Sebastian's question cut through her reverie like a cold shower. Her brows furrowed and her eyes moved back to his as she heard the hardness underlying his nonchalant words. His eyes were unmoving as he stared at her and there was no mistaking the tension in his jaw.
The wine was undoubtedly making him more candid than usual. The emotions that had always been hidden were beginning to seep through, though they remained elusive, just out of reach.
She sat upright on the couch, her head spinning at the sudden movement, “Garreth has never courted me.”
“Alright I’ll rephrase,” he rolled his eyes and the smirk dropped from his face, “Why would you ever bed that prick?”
She could feel her cheeks heat up, partly from anger, partly from embarrassment. His words were meant to provoke, to challenge her. She turned to fully face him on the couch, her knee nearly brushing his leg as she pulled her left leg underneath her.
“Garreth is funny.”
The excuse slipped from her lips before she realized how absolutely lame it sounded. Sebastian snorted, “You let him into your bed because he is…funny?” He licked his lips as he shook his head before his gaze bore into hers again, “Andrew Larson is funny, Everett Clopton could tell a good joke, Merlin even Ominis is witty. Interesting that you picked Weasley.”
Her jaw clenched. She leaned closer to him, the distance between them shrinking with every exchange. Her voice took on an edge as she retorted, “I could say the same about you and Imelda.”
“I doubt anyone has ever called Reyes funny.”
His voice practically dropped with amusement and she felt her blood pressure rising. That smug expression was enough to drive her over the edge.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She snapped and her body moved closer to his almost against her will. She let her gaze assess him as she continued, “You could have any witch you want and yet she’s your preferred poison?”
His gaze flickered to her lips, and for a moment, it was as if the world had vanished. The proximity was intoxicating, their breaths almost mingling in the charged atmosphere. She could feel the magnetic pull between them, as if their magic was calling to each other.
She realized then, how close they were. Her knee centimeters from brushing his thigh, and their faces close enough that one final lean on her part would have their lips touching. Sebastian’s voice, low and hoarse broke the enchanting silence.
“Perhaps I have a taste for the forbidden.”
Her eyes could withstand her desires no longer and she let her gaze slowly travel down his face to his lips.
“Imelda is anything but forbidden.” She whispered. His eyes flashed with an unfamiliar look. Her resolve was fraying by the second, and she felt her knee brush against his leg. His breath hitched at the contact and it seemed to break the spell she had found herself under. “We should…we should head to bed.”
Her gaze lifted to meet his eyes as she murmured the words and she watched as Sebastian let out a breath before nodding. He stood from the couch and his eyes flickered from her face towards the hallway.
“Let me show you where you’ll sleep.”
She stood, her mind reeling as she followed him down the hall. His quiet steps passed by two doors before stopping in front of another. He gripped the door handle, and it seemed as if it pained him to open the door. Once it swung open, and the candles around the room lit, she understood why.
The small room had yellow walls with lilac bedsheets made neatly on the bed. A discarded wooden doll was toppled in the corner along with a multitude of books. The room seemed untouched by time, as if stuck in a spell encasing it forever as it once was.
Anne’s room. It had to be. She quickly turned her attention back to Sebastian. He was staring into the room with sorrow filled eyes. She immediately stepped closer to him, and reached her hand to grab his.
“I can sleep on the couch, it’s really—“
“No. There’s no reason to let a good bed go to waste.” He murmured the words before pulling his gaze from the room and staring at her instead. “Besides, Anne would slap me if she knew I’d let you sleep on the couch instead of her bed.”
She doubted that was true. If Anne had anyone to blame for the events of fifth year, Ash knew her name should be top of that list.
She gave him a small smile that he hesitantly returned. His thumb traced over the back of her hand before he dropped it and inclined his head to a door they had passed in the hall.
“My room is right there if you need anything.”
She watched him turn and head down the hall. He turned the knob and made to enter his room, before he turned back to gaze at her. He eyes swam with emotions she couldn’t read and he seemed as if he swallowed back a multitude of words before he finally spoke, “Sleep well, Ash.”
As his door closed behind him, she let out a breath. Her eyes slipped back towards Anne’s room and she tentatively stepped inside. The scent of jasmine hit her nose almost immediately, and she noticed the pressed flowers scattered across the dresser top. Her fingers traced the wooden dresser edge as she walked further into the room.
The air was still, and she couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t her place to be here. She was surrounded by memories that didn’t belong to her, and she gazed towards the door that Sebastian lay beyond.
Her heart ached for him— for him staying in this home surrounded by his past. She turned her attention towards the four poster bed and she slowly slipped under the sheets. How many nights had Anne laid in her before everything went so horribly wrong? Had her and Sebastian spent many nights huddled under the covers reading and giggling far beyond their bedtime? Had she been in this bed when their parents had died?
She flicked her wand and the candles dimmed to embers, surrounding her in a suffocating darkness. She let her eyes flutter closed. If she listened hard enough she swore she could hear Anne’s soft voice lulling her into a fitful sleep.
“Please don’t go.”
She practically sobbed the words as she stood at the main gate with Alex. He had a small satchel of his items on the cobblestone beside him, his hands braced on her shoulders. Ash’s eyes were red rimmed— had been ever since the news of his adoption had rung out through the halls two days ago. Unprecedented, for a child his age to be swept from this hellhole.
“Listen to me.” He squeezed her shoulders and his voice trembled despite his efforts to be the strong one here, “I won’t be around to protect you, so you have to remember what I taught you. The bullies won’t hesitate now that I won’t be here, do you understand?”
She nodded as her lip wobbled. Her chest heaved as she sobbed again, the broken sound mirroring the shattered pieces inside of her. He can’t leave, he can’t leave her here, no— not the week before her thirteenth birthday, he can’t—
“I’ll write to you everyday.” His soil brown eyes commanded her attention. He was taller than her now, a process that seemed to happen overnight when he turned fifteen last year. The sorrow lacing his features only fueled her pain.
She barely registered his words as she reached up and grabbed his stained shirt and pulled him into a hug. Her arms wrapped around him as she cried into his chest. His long arms tightened around her waist as she felt him sniffling against her neck as he murmured.
“I’ll come back for you, Ash.”
The landscape shifted, Alex seemingly melting away in her arms as she found herself standing in the orphanage courtyard. Jacob Hawsworth and Jonah Prior stood in front of her, a sneer painted over both of their grimy faces.
She had avoided their attention for the last two months, only through sheer luck and her impeccable skill of slinking through the corridors like a wraith.
The courtyard was practically empty, save the three of them, and a few children who kept their attention on the ground— smart.
“Little Asha, all alone now that her big bodyguard is gone.” Jacob sneered and Jonah laughed loudly before stepping closer as Jacob continued, “You don’t have to be alone, I’ll take good care of you.”
She saw the rage in their eyes, the desperate hunger that only an abandoned child could understand— could feel.
She clenched her fist tighter around the rock she held behind her back as the boys approached. She knew what would happen next, knew what happened to Calliope last year and Elizabeth before that.
Her body trembled as Jonah reached a hand forward and brushed his dirt covered finger across her cheekbone. She felt the jagged edges of the rock digging into her palm.
“Don’t touch me.”
Her voice was low and trembling. A smirk tugged at Jacob’s lips as he mistook that tremble for fear. Jacob stepped forward and yanked her towards him by the collar of her ragged dress.
As her feet stumbled forward she made a decision— her fingers clamping harder on the rock. She felt the shift under her skin as she locked that scared little child away, kicking and screaming in her mind. Her eyes snapped upwards, cold and angry and ravenous.
She slammed the rock into the side of Jacob’s head and he released his grip instantly. His grimy hands shot up to the bleeding wound on the side of his head but she didn’t give him time for confusion or anger. Only fear.
Before Jonah could grab her she shoved Jacob hard enough that he tripped and slammed into the hard cobblestone beneath them. She held onto as he fell, their momentum pulling her with him. She dropped the rock from her grasp. She didn’t want to kill him. That was too easy.
She pushed him down into the hard stones as she sat up on top of him. She pulled her fist back and slammed it down onto his mouth. She barely registered the pain crackling through her knuckles. She slammed her other fist into his nose and grinned when she heard the sickening crunch.
Jacob tried to shove her off and Jonah was so struck with horror that he dashed off into the Orphanage proper. In the back of her mind she registered that she’d only have a few more minutes with Jacob before the Headmistress would arrive.
Good.
The rage was all-consuming as she continued to slam her fists down against his face until he was so black and blue she couldn’t recognize him.
Alex had left her—
Slam.
Hadn’t written to her one time—
Slam.
And these insignificant boys thought they could touch her—
Slam.
She wanted to scream at Jacob. Tell him that it was his fault that this was happening. Tell him that he’d never lay another finger on any girl at the orphanage again. She didn’t know when he slipped from consciousness. He needed to wake up— this wasn’t nearly as fun if he wasn’t going to feel it—
She raised her fist again and felt cold strong hands yank her off of the broken boy. The sounds of screaming were muffled in her ears. She kept her gaze focused on Jacob as two of the older boys picked his unconscious body up and hauled him to the sorry excuse for an infirmary.
The headmistress slapped her across the face and she finally turned her head from the blood splatter on the cobblestones. She vaguely registered the ache in her hands, even less so the sting across her cheek.
She didn’t feel the lashes that night, too drunk on the pure euphoria coursing through her body. The child she had locked away kept pounding and beating on the door in her mind. She smiled as the switch came down—
Ash jolted awake, a cry in her throat as she lurched from the crack of the switch. She sat upright in the dark unfamiliar room. Was she locked in the dark again? Was she being punished for her multitude of sins—
Her eyes rapidly scanned around her, the darkness seemingly pressing in. She fumbled for her wand at the bedside table and a whisper of lumos had the room bathed in a soft white glow. Anne’s room. She was just in Anne’s room. Her panic died as she focused on the warm cotton sheets between her clenched fists and the soft yellow walls around her.
She was safe. Her fingers trembled as she released her tight grip on the bedsheets and dropped her wand back on the nightstand. She was safe.
For a moment she let herself sit in the stillness and allowed herself to actually think about him for the first time in years. Alex.
Her dreams were the one place where she still saw his face clearly. Time had diminished the clarity of her memories. When she awoke she no longer remembered if his eyes were more soil brown or caramel. An ache formed in her. What did he even look like now? He’d be twenty years old. A man compared to the spindly teenager he was when he left her.
When he left her.
Her gut turned and she locked her memories away before they could torment her further. She laid her back against the headboard and let out a slow breath. Her head was pounding, the lasting effects of that damned wine leaving her feeling worse than firewhiskey ever did.
Sleep would not come tonight, of that she was certain.
Her eyes flickered towards the door and she worried the skin on her bottom lip. Sebastian had always been a night owl. Perhaps…
No. No that was a bad idea. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she woke him, he barely slept as it was. No. She wouldn’t be a bother. Instead she could get herself some tea from the kitchen and calm herself down.
She nodded to herself before swinging her legs over the side of the bed as she grabbed for her wand once more. She hadn’t bothered changing from her daywear, that would’ve required digging through Anne’s things and just the thought of that made her stomach drop.
Her bare feet landed on the cold floor and she softly padded towards the door. The tip of her wand illuminated the dark room as she grasped the doorknob. She quickly twisted and pulled the door open and nearly jumped out of her skin as she saw Sebastian, fist raised poised to knock.
Sebastian’s eyebrows raised as she opened the door and his hand fell back to his side. Ash took in his appearance, his messy hair, the dark circles under his eyes, and his utter lack of a shirt. Her eyes betrayed her as they took in his muscled torso and the too small pajama pants slung low on his hips. She quickly snapped her attention back to his eyes as he spoke in a low murmur.
“I heard you cry out, are you alright?”
Her face burned in embarrassment and she quickly averted her eyes at the concern showing on his face.
“Yes— just a…nightmare.” She mumbled. Sebastian let out a breath, the tension in his body releasing at the lack of a threat hiding in her room. She continued in a rushed manner, “I’m sorry I woke you. I’m just going to grab some tea—“
“It’s fine. I couldn’t sleep. I’ll make us some tea.”
His eyes swept over her face, an assessment. His gaze lingered on her eyes for a heartbeat before he turned from the doorframe and began walking down the dim hallway towards the kitchen. Her feet were glued to the floor as she watched him walk away, and her eyes were glued to the muscles rippling in his back. Her throat bobbed as he left her view and she hesitantly followed.
The moonlight streamed through the small kitchen window illuminating the space with an air of evanescence. Ash leaned back against the kitchen counter as Sebastian set about heating the kettle without magic.
The silence wrapped around them and Ash found herself transfixed by the glow that seemed to settle around him from the light of the moon.
“What did you dream about?”
His soft murmur was nearly drowned out by the sharp whistle of the kettle. She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth as she cracked the skin. She focused on his hands as he began to pour their tea.
“The orphanage.” She answered simply. The details weren’t necessary, she didn’t need him picturing her fists cracking bones or the sound of the switch lacerating her back.
His body tensed at her words and he turned to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes had no trace of pity, instead they were filled with a sense of understanding. He turned and handed the teacup to her as he spoke, “I dream of the scriptorium most nights.”
Her brows furrowed as she took the teacup, their fingers brushing momentarily. The scriptorium? He dreamt of the scriptorium and not the catacomb? What could he possibly have nightmares about in the scriptorium—
He saw the confusion written on her face and let out a sigh, “Ash you aren’t that dense.”
She stared at him while memories of the scriptorium flashed through her mind. She saw Ominis’ displeasure written on his features as they descended through the rooms, saw Sebastian’s excitement at every passed test, could practically feel the weight of Salazar Slytherin’s spell book. He was so happy that day, the glimmer of hope so bright, so what could he—
Oh.
She let out a breath, her eyes filled with more confusion as she realized what he meant. “Sebastian we had no choice in the matter, you had to cast the cruciatus curse on me.”
He worked his jaw and sat his teacup down on the counter beside him before leaning back against the surface.
“No, I should’ve insisted you cast it on me. I was just too focused on the end goal to even think about the consequences.” He shook his head, “But that’s typical of my behavior.”
“I would’ve refused, you had no choice.”
Her answer was quick and honest. She wouldn’t have casted it on him, especially knowing now what that pain was like. She would always prefer to be on the receiving end if it meant sparing him.
His gaze locked on hers and for the first time she saw the exhaustion he was carrying. Not physical exhaustion, though she was sure he had plenty of that, but the exhaustive weight of his burdens he had been bearing alone for so long.
She knew he found the same in her eyes, and there was a solace in that connection. She found herself opening her mouth to apologize again, for everything, for that night in the Undercroft, and she saw his gaze shift to something harder.
“Don’t. I know what you’re about to say. I don’t want an apology from you Ash, I’m not…let’s just go back to bed.”
She couldn’t. There was something so wrong about sleeping where Anne used to lay, something so suffocating about that room that even with express permission she couldn’t put herself back in those sheets. She felt the moment slipping from her fingers and she grasped at it with both hands as she spoke.
“Can I sleep with you?”
He paused and his eyebrows rose at the question, clearly caught off-guard by her sudden outburst and she quickly fumbled, “Not like— I meant can I stay in your bed?”
“Why?”
Ash bit her lip and her fingers clamped around the teacup, “I won’t be able to go back to sleep alone.”
She felt embarrassment flush her cheeks, she had never slept better with someone else before. Her nightmares had been a bane she didn’t subject anyone to, not even Garreth. But that night in the Undercroft, when Sebastian had pulled her against his chest, she slept more soundly than she had in months.
She stared at him and he seemed to be watching her as if waiting for her to continue but she had nothing else to offer up. He sighed and ran a hand over his face and mumbled something under his breath before pushing off the counter.
“Come on.”
He began walking down the hall, his silhouette in the moonlight all she saw as he pushed his bedroom door open. She sat her teacup down on the countertop, not even a sip taken, before she followed him. Her feet stopped in his doorframe and she let her eyes flicker around the room.
It was similar to Anne’s, yellow walls and a four poster bed though the sheets were a soft green. The dresser and nightstand were covered with books, some she recognized, most she didn’t. She walked tentatively into the space as Sebastian stood beside the bed rigidly. Her fingers brushed the spine of one book as she murmured, “You’ve read Frankenstein?”
She could almost see a younger version of herself, clad in a tattered dress sitting cross legged in the basement with Alex, Frankenstein clutched between their chubby fingers. It was a favorite of hers, a muggle book she had read enough times that she could almost recite the pages by heart.
“Mum used to read it to Anne and I. You know it?”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she glanced up at him, “Kindred spirits once again.”
His eyes softened at her words. He gave her a matching smile, “What was your favorite part?”
She hummed in thought as her finger danced over the spine of the book once more, “The creation.”
He rolled his eyes, “Of course, that’s the easiest answer.” He took in her rumpled uniform and sighed before turning and digging through his dresser drawers. He pulled out a dark green shirt, one far too small for him now. He tossed it to her and she looked down at it and furrowed her brows.
“I’m fine in my clothes—“
“Just change Cendrillion, I’d prefer not arguing past midnight.”
She rolled her eyes and gestured for him to turn around. He did so and she watched the way his muscles in his back seemed to tense. Her throat bobbed and she slowly slid out of her uniform and piled the clothes near the door. She let her corset join the pile before she slipped his shirt over her body. The hem reached her upper thighs and she tried tugging it further down.
She cleared her throat. Sebastian turned back around and his eyes instantly went to her legs. Her face reddened and she once again tried tugging the material down. His throat bobbed as his eyes raked over her.
She raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest the movement exuding a faux confidence, “So? What’s the correct answer then?”
He blinked and snapped his attention up to her eyes. “What?” His voice was rough, and the sound caused a warmth to spread through her that she fought to ignore.
“The book. You said the creation was an easy answer, so what’s the correct answer?”
He seemed lost in thought before he cleared his throat and stepped past her to grab the book from the pile. He began leisurely flipping through the pages, his eyes staring holes in the book as if he didn’t dare look up. He reached a passage and held it out to her, his attention fixed fully on the wall behind her.
She gingerly took the book from his hands and recognized the page instantly. His voice broke the silence around them as he murmured the line, “Beware; for I am fearless—
“—and therefore powerful.” She finished the sentence, her eyes fixed on him. He just nodded and took the book from her hands once more and sat it back onto the dresser.
The silence hung around them as the words rung in her ears over and over.
Had he picked that passage to prove a point?
His gaze was locked on her as if expecting a response but she turned her attention to the bed. If he had picked that quote for some divine reason— some call to action for her to lock her fear away, she wasn’t in the mood to play along.
Instead she moved and sat on the edge of his bed, the cotton sheets soft under her fingers, “Do you want to go to sleep?”
Sebastian was rooted to his spot for a moment before he sighed and headed to the other side of the bed. He hesitated as he looked at her, and she didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed down her legs once more. Her body warmed once more and Merlin she was in deep shit. That didn’t mean anything, she reminded herself, he had just never seen her legs so bare. She shouldn’t assume that meant he was attracted to her.
She pushed the thoughts from her head and slipped under the covers. Sebastian finally joined her and climbed onto the bed. He murmured a charm and the candles flickered out, leaving them bathed only in the dim moonlight from the window on the far side of the room.
Ash was surrounded by his smell and she didn’t hesitate to lay her head down on the pillow underneath her. She glanced sideways and saw that Sebastian had perched on the very edge of the mattress practically upright, his body stiffer than she’d ever seen.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping.”
“Why are you laying like that?” She frowned. He didn’t respond, and she huffed a breath. Should she leave? Truth be told she didn’t want to and she was inclined to be selfish right now with how heavy sleep pulled at her eyelids. She sat up however and the movement caused Sebastian to crack and eye open to look over at her. He seemed to almost scoot closer to the edge at her attention.
“Oh for Merlin’s sake, I practically slept on your lap two nights ago.” She snapped. She didn’t know why it made her so angry, but it did.
He made a sound of disagreement. “That was different, you almost died.” He mumbled, his neck craning as he looked at her.
“How was that different?” She pushed further with her words, her tone slowly growing more frustrated.
“Because now you are in my bed! You are in my bed, in my clothes. It’s different, it’s not proper.”
A harsh laugh nearly broke from her and she practically glowered at him. Anger and resentment bubbled from her throat before she could stop the words, “Was it improper with Imelda? Or Cressida? Or what about that sweet little Hufflepuff Adelaide?”
“That’s different.” He snapped back. He sat up further on the bed. There was that excuse again and it nearly made her head spin with anger and jealousy and a sorrow that began clawing at her throat. Of course they were different, he was attracted to them after all—
“They are different because they don’t mean anything to me.”
That shut her up. She opened her mouth to respond and promptly shut it when she realized she had nothing to say. She stared at him, the only sound filling the room was their breathing. He shifted positions, his body fully upright. He looked down at her and let out a slow breath.
“Ask me what I’d do for you.”
His voice was barely a whisper, a stark contrast to the harsh tones falling from their lips only moments ago. The room suddenly felt suffocatingly warm.
“Sebastian…”
His name fell from her lips like a plea. A plea to stop, to continue, she didn’t know. His throat bobbed at the whisper of his name.
“Ask me.”
She hesitated. Her attention moved from his eyes to his lips and she prayed to God or Merlin that the dim light would conceal the pure need burning in her eyes.
“What would you do for me?”
“Anything.”
There was no hesitation, the answer fell from his lips without a second thought, without a trace of remorse as if he didn’t set her on fire with a single word. She didn’t deserve this, surely he was lying, surely he didn’t mean anything. At her silence his face hardened.
“I could kill Weasley for making you doubt your worth, I should’ve broken him beyond repair.”
“Why?” She whispered.
“Because that piece of-“
“No, why any of it? After what I said?” She cut him off, she didn’t care about Garreth, didn’t want to talk about him right now. He let out a breath and ran a hand across his face.
He didn’t say anything for a moment and she opened her mouth to ask again when he finally began speaking.
“I was angry at you…for a long time. That night in the Undercroft, it haunts me as much as the Scriptorium.” He saw the devastation written on her face and he continued softly. “I was angry becuase I knew you were right, but it still hurt-“
She made a sound of disagreement, no she hadn’t been right he was not a monster— but he continued regardless.
“But I was more angry at myself because it wouldn’t have mattered what you said, it wouldn’t have changed anything.” He murmured the last words, and continued as if stopping at this point wasn’t an option, “I only stayed away because I thought that’s what you wanted. If I would’ve known that it was fucking Ominis—“
“We’ve talked about this, Ominis knew I was a bad influence, that I was poisoning you—“
“Don’t. Don’t defend him. You didn’t poison me, you didn’t make me do anything I wasn’t already going to do. If anything I poisoned you. You wouldn’t have learned the unforgivables if I—“
It was her turn to cut him off, “I would’ve died without those curses. You didn’t corrupt me Sebastian, I was broken long before I found you.”
Silence blanketed them and Ash found herself scooting closer to him on the bed, and she hesitantly reached her hand out and grazed his own as he clutched the sheets.
“Ask me what I’d do for you.”
She whispered the words and felt her heart practically beating out of her chest as he gazed down at her.
“What would you do for me?”
“Anything.” She breathed.
He let out a breath. His free hand reached out and her breath caught in her throat as brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. His hand moved and cupped her cheeks gently. Her entire body lit on fire at his touch. At the gentleness of it. His hand was warm and she found herself unconsciously leaning into it. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone and she let out a trembling breath, her mind a whirling mess. She couldn’t help but think that no one had ever touched her so gently, not like this— not even Alex.
“Ash…”
He breathed her name as if every tether of restraint was fraying, like a plea to a god she didn’t know. She didn’t know her name could sound so sweet.
Her eyes fell to his lips and for the first time she actually admitted to herself how she felt. She wanted him— had wanted him since their first trip to Hogsmeade together. She had wanted nothing more than to touch and hold and kiss him for so long that the ache felt as familiar as breathing.
But what if that longing ruined everything? She had just gotten him back in her life, she wouldn’t dare lose him again over something as silly as desire. Her magic began roiling in her veins, a familiar burning, as the anxiety began to build. That was enough to snap her from her transfixion.
Her throat bobbed as she dropped her eyes towards the dwindling space between their bodies.
“It’s late. We have to meet Professor Weasley early tomorrow and I’d prefer not having purple circles under my eyes.”
She lifted her gaze and gave him a soft smile at her attempted joke. His jaw tightened and he quickly removed his hand from her face. He said nothing. Sebastian slipped underneath the sheets and made to turn to face the far wall as she quickly spoke, “Could you hold me?”
She wasn’t giving into her desires. This was simply a similar situation to how he held her the night she almost died. She was simply trying to get nightmare free sleep, nothing more.
She kept telling herself that anyway.
He turned over to face her as she pulled the covers over herself. His face was unreadable, the dimness of the room not helping her decipher whatever emotions were swirling in his eyes. He said nothing as he wrapped an arm around her waist and twisted her, her back pressing flush against his chest.
His arm stayed firmly wrapped around her midsection, his fingers splayed right over the new scar he’d left. The only scar she’d come to love. He brushed his fingers over the fabric of her borrowed shirt as if he could feel the ruined flesh beneath.
His touch quelled the burning in her veins and she melted into his grip. She pressed her body backwards against him, furthering their contact. As the delicious lull of sleep finally began pulling her under, she felt the ghost of a kiss pressed to the top of her head.