An offer
October passed in a whirlwind. Each day filled with a flurry of scribbling translated ruins, healing the scars left in the Room, and laughing. More laughing than Ash had done in a lifetime.
Sebastian and Ash had spent the two weeks after their first bout of reconstruction bouncing between the dim light of the Undercroft and the slowly but surely renewed chambers of the Room.
Ash had even stolen away a few days of those weeks to see Natty and make good on their promise to work together on her homework. It had taken nearly five minutes that first day for Natty to snap from her stupor when she realized just how far behind Ash was. Then she had spent the remainder of that evening, and a few later that week, catching Ash up in Arithmancy, Divination, Potions, Ancient Runes, and Muggle studies. A monumental feat in itself.
To say Ash was exhausted was an understatement, but the tiredness felt earned at the end of each never-ending day. Most nights she was far too weary, after hours of translating and scrubbing scorched walls, to dream. And so she found herself nightmare free more often than she succumbed to the terrors.
Because of this, she dreamed less and less of Alex. As if by purging her secrets to Sebastian, she freed the memeories from the clutches of her subconscious. It was a bittersweet feeling.
The tome’s secrets had slowly but surely begun unraveling. Progress had increased due to both Ominis’ increased presence and her and Sebastian’s drive. The runes had become a comfort to her, a language she slowly began appreciating with every swirl and slash.
When she fell into bed each night, she pulled herself into a stupor by tracing medieval runes on her pillow. Her favorites were those with intricate designs that had taken weeks to understand— sāre for pain, wið for resistance.
It was fulfilling, she knew, to be good at something again. And she was good at it. Sebastian was better, but she didn’t mind. While runes had become her love-child, the goblin language had become his.
The extra hours he had spent with his nose shoved in rolls of parchment containing passages of the complex language paid off. In fact, it had led to him reaching a level of fluency that nearly halved their translation time. Where it once took nearly a day to translate a page, they now could decipher two or three in that time.
So far, they knew that these experiments were using goblin silver imbued with different magical properties on wizards and witches to see the effects both physical and mental. The silver, once imbued, would leave burn marks behind that were unable to heal despite trials of dittany and healing potions.
The first entries focused mostly on the stifling effects of goblin silver once imbued with a variation of the imperius curse and copper inlays. Horror had filled her when she realized they had been taking witches and wizards magic away.
They also knew that there had been a wizarding family paying the owner of the journal to run these experiments. She had seen what looked like documentation of the payments in the margins of some passages. Sebastian had translated the numerical values and blanched. The costs were astronomical— an absurd number of galleons spent on what only seemed like the pipe dream of who she assumed was Bragbor.
Ash knew with certain clarity, once the experiments began discussing the raw unbridled magic of the world, that this was one of the first discoveries of ancient magic. She remembered a particularly chilly night, one that required a regular warming charm cast upon the three of them huddled in the Undercroft. Sebastian’s scribbling had stilled and Ash had felt rather than seen his eyes upon her. When she had met his gaze he said only one thing, “Isidora.”
They had spent the rest of the night, including Ominis who at that point felt too tangled in the threads of fate to sleep, reading and re-reading the translated passage.
Test subject twenty-three showing promise with additional input from the Morganach matron. Burns along wrists under manacles considerably worsened, however mind remains intact. The witch insisted on removing pain from the subject. More tests will need to be run discussing the possibility of nerve death in the brain from lack of sensation.
Isidora had been involved in these horrific experiments. She was helping Bragbor, Ash knew without a doubt it was Bragbor, torture innocents with her power— supplying it to the silver manacles to what end?
Ash didn’t know. Didn’t know what the end goal of the experiments were, especially concerning the ancient magic. Suppression of the wearers magical abilities seemed already complete, before Isidora had introduced Bragbor the ancient magic. Perhaps control— perhaps imbuing the goblin silver with ancient magic would increase control over the wearer. Or maybe there was no goal, maybe it was experimentation for the sake of discovery— torture in light of knowledge. For some reason, that made Ash feel worse.
Ash wondered however if this was the price for the repository. If Isidora participated in these torture of witches and wizards in payment for the construction of the repository to hold that swirling mass of emotion-filled ancient magic. The magic now inside of her. Ash felt inextricably tied to the deaths on that table, especially when the itching would begin under her skin.
A week after Ash and Sebastian began cleaning up the Room, he gifted her the first dose of his suppressant potion. It was a sparkling periwinkle, a swirl of soft color in a vial the size of a chicken egg. For when he wasn’t around, he said. She had yet to take it. Instead she had sought him out two days later when the raging inside of her began to overflow. He had been on his way back from dinner when she grabbed him and pulled him into an alcove outside of the Great Hall. He had made her forget for a while longer. He still hadn’t taken her, nor had he allowed her to touch him in the ways that she wanted. But she had stopped asking, sensing his withdrawal after every encounter they had.
She didn’t know why his eyes always seemed distant afterwards. It must’ve been too far. Too much for his promises of helping her with ‘anything.’ And yet…and yet something nagged in her mind anytime she thought of it. His eyes always burned with hunger when his hands roamed her body, and she knew she didn’t mistake the way he looked at her the night in his childhood bedroom. He looked at her the way she looked at him.
She tried not to let the thoughts consume her. No, she was satisfied with what she could get from Sebastian. It was far more than she deserved anyway.
Guilt always gnawed at her when thoughts of Sebastian filled her mind. There were so many other things to worry about. Harlow had taken up permanent residence in her psyche. Every day she checked for news around the castle about attacks, or sightings, or gods above a simple mention of his name. Not even Ominis’ family had heard additional news. The only whispers she heard in the halls involved talk of the ball, and she quickly tuned them out. She didn’t let herself think of the dark green gown or what shoes she would’ve worn, or how she would’ve worn her hair— an updo of course.
Whispers of Adelaide had ceased as the days passed. No one seemed to bat an eye at the girls’ removal from Hogwarts. Even Poppy seemed more concerned about the increased poacher activity outside of castle grounds. It was as if the girl no longer existed. And despite trying to reassure herself that Adelaide had most likely been withdrawn from the school as stated, Ash couldn’t let go of the alternative.
Muggleborn and Halfbloods were disappearing across the country— and not a whisper of that news had filtered through the halls either. No, it seemed the Ministry was steadfast in its control of information. The only professor who seemed to have a modicum of concern was Professor Weasley, who was absent more than present these days. Investigating the disappearances to aid the Ministry. It made Ash sick to think of it. It wasn’t her responsibility, unlike the business with Harlow, and yet at every free moment Ash found herself staring out the windows of Gryffindor tower, wondering where they had been taken. And why.
Despite the revelations the tome provided, the constant worry that ate away at her, and the images that now constantly flashed across her mind of Isidora grinning over a patient strapped to a table, Ash and Sebastian found time to laugh.
While bone-tired exhaustion drug her to bed each night, it was the prospect of Sebastian’s sneering jokes and her belly-clutching laughter that got her out of bed each morning.
It was one of those moments that had her currently coughing up bits of toffee as she fought to catch her breath.
“Merlin Ash, didn’t realize you found humor in such things.” Sebastian said, grinning.
His story of himself, Anne, and Ominis third year in which they pantsed Duncan Hobhouse in the midst of Hogsmeade their very first trip, had her choking on caramel toffee to the point that Sebastian had come to pat her on the back.
Her eyes watered as she caught her breath, still laughing lightly. She shook her head, leaning into his lingering touch, “I can’t believe Ominis was involved.”
Sebastian snorted and sat back in his own chair across the table from her, “He has you fooled with his goody two shoes act. I mean, he’s always been a bit haughty, but he was always right in the midst of trouble with Anne and I.”
Ash slid her bag of toffee across the table, and Sebastian grabbed a piece as she spoke, “When did that change?”
Sebastian chewed, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface of the table, “After Anne got cursed. It was— I mean everything changed then. I didn’t really have time for stupid pranks, and Anne left school, and Ominis just…tried to hold it all together I suppose.”
“How is she?” Ash asked, watching him carefully. She tried not to pry too much about Anne, but that day Ash had finally spoken about Alex she felt relief. She wanted to extend that chance to Sebastian— to share the load with him if he’d allow it.
He didn’t speak for a moment, instead he focused on the sticky residue remaining on his fingers. He wiped them against his pants, working his jaw.
“I’m going to see her next weekend, at St. Mungo’s. She told Ominis, when he was there last week, that she wanted to see me.”
She reached across the table, squeezing his hand, “That’s great Sebastian.”
His fingers tightened around hers. He swallowed, and she saw the hesitation in his eyes as he met her gaze, “Would you come? With me? Ominis is there every weekend but he’s unavailable and I don’t want to go alone.”
Her heart clenched at his vulnerability. He has always been hard to read, the walls around his emotions thick and impenetrable. But now— now she saw him, he let her see him.
“Of course,” she whispered, “Whatever you need.”
A heartbeat passed between them, then two, before he let out a breath and dropped her hand, running his fingers through his hair, “Thank you.”
A comfortable silence enveloped them once more as they turned their attention back to the tome between them. Only the sound of scratching quills filled the air, and she fell into an easy rhythm of translation.
An hour or so later, Ash froze as she completed a passage. Her eyes jumped to Sebastian, who had a strained expression of his face as he worked on the next page. His hair was hanging nearly in his eyes, and he tugged mercilessly on it every time he found himself stuck.
“Clagmar Coast.” She breathed, the sound jarring in the steady silence.
His eyes snapped to her, “You’re sure?” Sebastian required no further explanation of her outburst. He had no desire to check for himself. It was refreshing, she thought, to have someone understand her so intuitively, to believe in her capabilities without the need for further validation.
“The author mentioned the sea breeze stirring patients during transport and then went into detail about the issues with the caving systems so close to the cliffside. According to this section, a patient had broken free and narrowly avoided recapture by flinging themself out of one of the cave portals high above the ocean, dying on impact.”
Sebastian nodded, urging her to continue. She took a breath, steadying herself, “The account mentions the patient scarcely missing the razor-sharp red-rock shoreline when falling. Instead by falling into the sea, Bragbor and his men were able to recover the body and retrieve the silver manacles. They’ve been careful so far as to not give away their location, no exacting information.” Ash’s lips twisted into a smirk, “But Bragbor messed up. Here, when he talks about the collection of the body, he says it was completed under the light of the celestial heavens, only Cassiopeia above to guide their hand.”
Ash paused, watching Sebastian’s mind spinning, before she continued, “In Astronomy fifth year we learned that Cassiopeia is constellation of the northern sky, a group of five bright stars forming a slightly irregular W, visible at one hour right ascension and 60° north declination.”
Astronomy had been a favorite class of hers. The open night air had been a relief, a stark contrast to where she had come from. She had spent many nights venturing across the highlands, staring up at the sky as if she could lose herself in the place betwixt darkness and light.
“Well, go on then…” Sebastian said, his eyes filled with excitement, and what looked like awe.
“We know that Bragbor had to be in this area of Europe, of England really. Isidora was from Feldcroft, and in the pensieve memories we saw that she met with Bragbor near her home. So it only makes sense that the location of these experiments would be close to where Bragbor was from, and where Isidora lived. It had to be Scotland.
“Bragbor gave more than enough information to determine their location. From the description of the sky and the date of the entry, the area is in the northern hemisphere, and faces due east. A cave system, cliffside facing the ocean, where the shoreline is composed of red razor sharp rock.
“It has to be Clagmar coast.” She finished, a smile stretching across her face.
Sebastian let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair, “You’re a genius. A bloody genius!”
A joyous laugh bubbled from her lips and she let out a breath of relief, “Finally we have something. A cave system, once used by Bragbor, meaning Ranrok most likely knew about fifth year.”
“So, Harlow could know about it now. It could be how he’s remained in obscurity these past few months.” Sebastian finished for her. He leaned back in his chair, stretching, “Clagmar coast has an extensive shoreline. We’ll have to do some sleuthing to narrow down the location.”
Ash nodded, pulling the bag of toffee back towards her. She deserved a reward after all. “Tomorrow.” She popped a piece of the sticky candy into her mouth, savoring the sweet delight. “Tonight, we can try to continue translation of the next passage, see if there’s anything to narrow it down.”
Ash had little else to do tonight. Distantly, the thrum of the clock tower sounded. Seven o’clock. The ball had officially begun. Ash buried her nose back in the tome, pushing away thoughts of waltzes and gowns.
Sebastian stood from his chair, his head turned towards the faraway chime. He made his way around to her side of the table and his fingers came into view as he pressed them onto the top of the journal. Her eyes slowly trailed up to his as he pushed the book down from her face. She raised an eyebrow at him, questioning the disruption.
“Let’s end on a win tonight, shall we?” He gently pulled the ancient book from her hand and sat it on the table. He turned back to look at her, and shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes darted across her face, and his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. For all intents and purposes, Sebastian looked…nervous.
She frowned, observing his behavior. Before she could ask what the hell was wrong with him, his brown eyes met hers.
“Come to the ball with me.”
Her furrowed brows shot skyward, “Funny.”
“I’m serious.”
“We don’t have time—“
“An hour. Just an hour and we can come back and spend the rest of the night holed up in here with that dusty book.”
Sebastian's brown eyes held an intensity that caught her off guard, something raw and honest that captivated her beyond the immediate chaos. His proximity, the way his shin nearly brushed her knee from where he stood, and the invitation— she fought against the fluttering in her chest.
Ash hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I don’t have a dress. I didn’t buy one that afternoon Natty drug me to Gladrags.”
The tension in Sebastian body seemed to release, and his lips pulled into a shy smile. He stepped back away from her, musing his hair.
Sebastian turned, and made his way to a stack of crates against the wall behind him. With a glance at her over his shoulder, he pulled the lid from the top one and cleared his throat before beckoning her over. Intrigued, Ash stood and crossed to him, but the breath caught in her throat as she beheld the sight within.
Nestled within the confines of the crate was the exquisite dark green and gold gown she had admired at the dress shop. The fabric shimmered in the dim light, and she reached out to touch it ensuring it wasn’t an illusion. She traced her fingers delicately over the intricate details. Speechless, Ash looked up at him, “How did you—“
“I pay attention.” Sebastian said simply. He stared at her as if drinking in every reaction. She shook her head slowly, and relaxed the fabric from her hands. She stared up at him, her eyes dancing over the smattering of freckles before meeting his intense gaze, “But, why?” She whispered.
Sebastian’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek and he dropped his brown eyes to the glimmering dress, “You looked so happy, when I saw you looking at the dress in the shop. I hadn’t seen…well you’ve only ever seemed sparingly happy. But you were, happy that is, looking at it. But I could tell you weren’t going to buy it because you’re a stubborn witch.” Sebastian chuckled when she huffed.
He continued, absentmindedly running his fingers through the folds of the gown, “I wanted to bottle that look on your face. So I went back the next day and bought it.” He smirked, “You have expensive taste.”
She couldn’t manage a laugh at his tease. Instead, she stared at him. Shock, and pain, and something so deep it ached rocked through her. His smirk faltered when he saw her expression.
“It wasn’t that expensive Ash, I was teasing,” he said, his eyes searching her face. “Was I wrong? About the dress? I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed that you’d want—“
“No,” she whispered shaking her head, “No you weren’t wrong I just—“
It’s just that there was something near painful about his compassion, something so heavy about the weight of his attention that she felt it in her bones. She had been hungry for so long, and here he was offering her not a scrap but a feast— but like a rabid dog, she was afraid she’d bite.
“—I just don’t know how to thank you.” She finished.
Sebastian searched her face, looking for any signs of lingering trouble in her eyes. What he saw seemed to satisfy because he let out a breath and pulled the gown from the crate. The skirts billowed to the floor, pooling on the stone in waves of green.
“Put it on.”
Ash was tired, so so tired of managing the crumbling walls in her mind. Rebuilding the barricade around the part of herself that longed to be loved. She didn’t want to poison Sebastian. She didn’t want to be his ruination as Ominis suggested. But Sebastian wasn’t a bleeding creature, lost and forlorn. No, Sebastian wasn’t corruptible. That gave her too much credit and him far too little.
And maybe— maybe she could stop holding herself back. Maybe she could allow herself this small happiness without the fear of ruining it, without the fear of it being taken away.
Maybe she didn’t have to be so afraid. Not with him.
A smile bloomed across her face, “And what are you going to wear?”
___•___
Half an hour later, Ash stepped from behind the privacy screen Sebastian had conjured. His suggestion not hers. When she mentioned that he’d already seen all of her, he had simply shrugged and said that since he wouldn’t be waiting at the bottom of the grand staircase for her arrival, he would at least do this semi-properly.
Her golden heels clacked against the stone as she stepped into view. Sebastian stood beside the pensieve near the right wall, his eyes trained on the carved bowl. At the sound of her shoes, his eyes snapped up to her.
Ash couldn’t help but feel transfixed as she stared at him. He was the same, the same freckled boy she had been laughing with only hours ago and yet—
His typically unruly brown hair had been meticulously combed through, lending an air of polished charm. The flicker of candlelight played on his features, highlighting the subtle contours of his face, darkening his brown eyes even further.
Sebastian stood clad in an all-black suit, one that showed the hard lines of his body. The sharp lines of the tailored ensemble spoke of refined elegance, each element perfectly curated for the occasion. Black shoes, black tie, black undershirt. And yet her eyes drew to the suit pocket above his heart.
A dark green swatch adorned his breast pocket, mirroring the shade of her gown with an uncanny precision. He looked regal, ever the Slytherin prince that girls claimed he was.
And she in her attire, was his match.
Ash's ballgown enveloped her in a tapestry of enchantment, its deep, dark green hue reminiscent of the mysteries hidden within a forest at twilight. Gold accents adorned the gown, delicate leaves intricately embroidered, trailing up from the hem like nature's golden whispers entwined in the fabric. Each leaf seemed to catch the light, creating a celestial dance as she moved.
The off-the-shoulder sleeves added a touch of elegance, exposing just enough skin to balance the gown's opulence. The neckline framed her collarbones with a subtle grace, enhancing the allure of her presence. The gold accents continued their ascent along the sleeves, a celestial pathway guiding the gaze upward.
The skirts, heavy and thick, cascaded in luxurious layers that pooled around her feet. With every step, the weight of the fabric created a regal sweep, accentuating the grandeur of the gown.
Her hair was in a delicate updo, not the mastery of braid gold she would have woven with the help of extra hands. It was the best she could do on her own, and with her limited magic.
She wore no makeup— she had none with her, and her transfiguration was shoddy at best. Instead, Ash pinched at her cheeks until they had bloomed a soft pink. It was good enough.
The moment his eyes landed on her, there was a shift. Whatever memory he had been lost in before, disappeared from the depths of his gaze. There was no grandiose reaction to her appearance, no shedding of tears or exclamation of glee.
No, that would not be Sebastian. And that reaction was not what she wanted. It was subtle in nature. Anyone else might have missed it, but Ash, who had slowly become attuned to the nuances of his expressions, caught the fleeting signs of devotion in that unguarded moment.
The way his eyes softened, and drank her in as if he were a man dying of thirst and she was his only chance of salvation. Or the way the tension that had seemed permanent in his shoulders and jaw, released. His hands flexed at his side, tensing and releasing as if he had no idea what to do with them.
That mixed emotion in his eyes that was always so hard to categorize— there it was. And she knew, without needing to decipher each individual fleeting feeling, that her eyes mirrored his own.
A breath escaped him, and the corners of his mouth turned up, “You look beautiful.” His voice was thick, heavy.
It was his favorite admonishment it seemed. Between the moment they shared in the bath, and the stolen breaths exchanged in the alcove near the Great Hall, it was the praise he whispered against her skin over and over. Beautiful.
“You look beautiful too.” Ash said, a bit coyly. She meant it, he did look beautiful.
Sebastian chuckled, matching her smile. He stepped forward, slipping his hands into his pockets, “Well go on then. Give us a whirl.”
As she twirled, the leaves seemed to come alive, shimmering and dancing like fragments of autumn caught in a perpetual breeze. The skirts fluttered around her, a dance of green and gold and enchantment.
When she stopped, a laugh bubbled from her lips, unbridled and free. Sebastian stared at her with a reverence that made her toes curl, “You look good in green.”
“Says the Slytherin.”
Sebastian grinned, shrugging as he stepped closer, enough that the hem of her skirts brushed his shoes.
“What about our masks?”
Sebastian stooped and grabbed two discarded pieces of wax paper from the pile of candy packages near the leg of the table. His wand slid from his sleeve, and he murmured softly, brushing the tip against the first wrapper.
It blossomed slowly, changing from a translucent white to a matching green. It doubled slowly, transforming into a delicate mask, with tiny golden leaves decorating the top corners. Sebastian tilted her chin up, and placed it onto her face. It required no ribbon to hold fast to her skin, instead it sat perfectly as if a part of her.
The second bit of wax paper unfurled with another murmur, and his own mask emerged. It was simple, green, with inlays of golden thread that shimmered under the candlelight. She took it from his hands, and pressed up onto her toes as she affixed it to his face. Her thumbs lingered, brushing over his cheekbone before she pulled away.
A heartbeat passed between them, in which they simple stood, breathing in the moment. No matter how tonight went, no matter how events transpired with Harlow, or her magic, or any number of horrid futures— she would treasure this moment eternally.
Sebastian extended a hand, an offer.
And without hesitation, Ash took it.