Essence
Autumn was Ash’s favorite time of the year. She supposed that made her a true Gryffindor— with her love of the season that painted the landscape in a tapestry of reds, oranges, and yellows.
Autumn tasted of cinnamon— of apples dipped in caramel, and pastries flaked in powdered sugar. The smell of autumn a rich and earthy tapestry, woven from the scents of fallen leaves and damp earth. It carried with it the faint aroma of wood smoke drifting from hearths, mingling with the sweet perfume of pumpkins ripening in the fields.
A walk through the forest revealed the air alive with the spicy fragrance of nutmeg, punctuated by the musky scent of mushrooms and the sharp bite of pine needles underfoot.
It was a fleeting season— a kiss of reprieve wedged between the fiery heat of summer and the brutal cold of winter. A blink, and you’d miss it. As November came to a close, so did the last remnants of Autumn bleed into the bleakness of frost and snow.
Three weeks passed since Ash and Sebastian visited Anne; three weeks of bitter cold spent hunting a ghost. At least, that’s what their missions felt like— a ghost chase. Though, in her experience chasing ghosts was more productive.
The passing of time marked revelations that in theory were favorable. Poppy had reported over the breakfast table that the poaching camps that were seemingly permanent features of the forbidden forest, had all but disappeared. Gone without a trace. Poppy of course had been ecstatic, especially due to arrival of mating season for Thestrals, who’s offspring made a pretty knut. Ash however had felt sick at the news, no longer able to stomach her jam covered toast.
It meant a storm was coming, and she wasn’t ready for the onslaught.
Professor Weasley had once again returned from her ministry required search of the so called ‘blips’ across England. Word from Ominis revealed that the professor wouldn’t be sent to hunt for missing muggleborns and halfbloods anymore. According to his older brother, who’d been all but delighted to discuss the possibility of murder of impure blood over another dinner, the disappearances had ceased. Five weeks previous, before which reports indicated one disappearance a week, and then nothing.
The family dinner had been a requirement due to Ominis’ newfound withdrawals from the Gaunt vault. A fact Ash would’ve been guilty for, if Ominis weren’t wholly decided to ignore her existence.
The arrival of Professor Weasley back to Hogwarts should’ve brought relief, as was the expression the older woman wore, but the lack of comment from the Ministry on the disappearances from the wizarding population left a sour taste in Ash’s mouth. One that couldn’t be washed away by a seemingly ‘miraculous’ end to the terrorization of halfbloods and muggleborns. Ash had grown up forced to swallow miracles, and they had never been anything more than smoke and mirrors.
The first snow of the year had fallen on one of their scouting missions, turning the razor sharp red rocked Clagmar coast into a slippery mud hole.
Three weeks of crossing more coastline from their map. Three weeks of Ominis’ treating her like a stick of tnt lit from both ends. And three weeks of pretending everything was fine— that Harlow wasn’t coming to destroy them all.
At least that’s what it felt like when Ash forced herself to sit through Arithmancy or Divination.
Aside from the hours spent climbing frozen boulders or scouring empty oceanside caves, their weeks were punctuated with visits to St. Mungo’s. I think Sebastian understood the underlying reason for Anne’s change of heart, but it was a hard truth neither Ash or Sebastian would voice aloud. Instead, Sebastian, accompanied by either herself or Ominis, would spend Sundays propped beside his sisters’ bedside— reading or reminiscing. One topic that never came up was Harlow, or Solomon, or Rookwood. No one wanted to brush against the wounds of the past, and neither Sebastian, Ominis or Ash would bring up the current situation.
The trips out of the castle, whether for their escapades to St. Mungo’s or to Clagmar coast, had become frequent. When months ago, Ash would only leave Hogwarts to pick up firewhiskey from the Hogs Head, now she was only in the castle for fleeting moments; Classes, sleeping, or her favorite— not sleeping. The latter involved a certain brunette who found every patch of skin that made her see stars.
The increased frequency out of the castle however meant an escalation in the horrible feeling that she was being watched. Who or what was watching her, she hadn’t a clue. But the lingering presence that always seemed just out of sight meant that every mission required two random apparation points before Clagmar coast. A headache of a chore, but when Ash mentioned the sensation to Sebastian, he didn’t question it; he merely kept his eyes on their surroundings and a hand on his wand at all times.
Sebastian had managed in those weeks, with Ominis’ funds, to tweak his original Suppressant potion. The addition of occamy eggshells, a procural most difficult, seemingly stabilized the brew. There were no more eruptions of her magic when the potion wore off— in fact the potion seemed long-acting, keeping the cage around that potent abyss in tact for days at a time.
She could feel it still, raging beneath her skin. The newfound cage, now reinforced, did little to stop the torturous ache as the ribbons of magic wrapped around the cell bars and roared.
She learned to better ignore it, despite the fear of what lurked inside of her somehow slipping through the cracks.
In addition to the periwinkle potion Ash swallowed down every four days, Sebastian ensured she was distracted as often as possible.
“You take me so well.” Sebastian praised, sinking into her to the hilt before retreating halfway and slamming into her again. He’d been teasing her for nearly fifteen minutes with slow agonizing thrusts, and now it seemed he was ready to devour her.
Ash’s spine arched off the cold stone wall, her nails digging into Sebastian’s shoulders for purchase as he set a brutal pace. “Sebastian—“ she groaned, and he responded in turn by gripping her tighter. Not hard enough to bruise, no despite Ash’s constant assurances that he could go harder, rougher, he never let himself reach that point. When she’d asked once, he merely stated that she’d been hurt enough to last a lifetime, and he would never add to the menagerie of marks left on her skin.
His mouth hovered above hers, his eyes soaking up every reaction. It was his favorite, she’d learned. To watch her come undone by his hand.
He gripped her rear tighter with his left hand before snaking his right between their bodies and the half-shed clothes still hanging from them.
Each thrust had her body singing with pleasure, practically babbling praises of ‘more’ and ‘yes’ and his name. But the addition of his fingers at her clit, languidly swirling, sent her careening over the edge— Sebastian following quickly after her.
She was a gasping mess when she came down from her high, and was thankful that the stones at her back cooled her sweaty skin. Sebastian rested his forehead to hers, his own breathing uneven, “So beautiful.”
She smiled then. Hers. He was hers. And the end of the world didn’t seem like well, the end of the world. Not when he looked at her like that. They stayed there, her legs wrapped around his waist for a moment longer.
Ash sighed, running her hand through his hair plastered to his forehead, ”Ominis will be down here any minute.”
“He’s blind.” Sebastian said, burying his face against her neck.
“I have this theory that he’s actually not blind and it’s an elaborate ploy to get people to act stupid around him so he has ammunition.”
He pulled out of her but didn’t drop her from the wall. “Quite the long game.”
“He has the aptitude for it.”
Sebastian snorted but didn’t refute her.
Indeed moments later the iron grate groaned as it slid open, and the telltale sound of footfalls on stone filled the chamber.
“You’re early Ominis,” Sebastian called over his shoulder, setting Ash down gently back onto her feet, “We aren’t leaving until half-past eight.”
Ash pulled her leathers back over her chest and shoulders, and began tugging her trousers up as silently as possible.
Ominis reached midway across the room before stopping. He sniffed, his nose scrunching. Ominis gritted his teeth, and he dropped his wand to his side with a pinched expression, “Could you two refrain from having intercourse in the Undercroft?”
Ash threw Sebastian an exasperated look, her eyes all but saying ‘I told you so.’ Sebastian merely shrugged, not caring about the incoming reprimand.
“This place has been a family secret for centuries, one of the only good things about the Gaunt name and I won’t have it defiled by your debauchery.” Ominis said, nearly hissing the words. Ash wondered momentarily if she could enrage Ominis enough for him to begin speaking in Parseltongue.
“How’d you know?” Was Sebastian’s only reply, curiosity lacing his voice as he nonchalantly re-fastened his belt.
“Our dorm has smelt of sex for on and off two years now, It’s quite recognizable.” Ominis said through clenched teeth.
Ash stifled a laugh, it really wasn’t funny. But when you were about to spend the day trudging through frozen muddy coastline in order to track down a madman and save the world for the second time, Ominis’ displeasure garnered a giggle.
At the sound of her choked laugh, Ominis’ patience snapped, “Are you quite finished?”
Sebastian snorted, “Oh we both finished.”
___•___
Clagmar coast was haunting in the winter time.
The once vibrant landscape was transformed into a frozen wasteland, stripped bare of its colorful adornments. The jagged red rocks were covered in frost, making the coastline like a blood speckled battlefield. The bitter cold seeped into her bones, leaving her shivering and longing for the warmth of the sun.
Gone were the cheerful chirping of birds and the rustle of reed grass, replaced instead by the eerie silence of a world held captive by ice and snow.
The waves crashed against the cliffs below as the three of them stood overlooking the sea. The boulder-filled beach below beckoned. Ash wiped a melting snowflake from her cheek. Her gloved fingers were freezing despite the warming charm Sebastian had cast upon apparation.
A glance to her left showed Sebastian mounting a broom, steady despite the piercing wind.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” She said, and Sebastian smirked, brandishing his wand.
“Be safe, love.”
It had become their parting. Every mission. It eased something in her, their goodbye without a goodbye. And it was much easier to say than the words that had been fighting to slip from her lips for weeks.
Sebastian cast the disillusionment and left her and Ominis cliffside. If the air could have become more frigid with Sebastian’s disappearance, it would’ve done.
Ominis didn’t spare a moment in her company before disillusioning himself and trudging down towards the muddy beach below. She followed, casting her own charm, thankful that her suppressant potion locked away the magic that screamed to be unleashed with the gnawing anxiety she felt.
Since that first mission Ominis wouldn’t utter a word to her, unless it pertained to finding the cave. It made for a miserable affair. Ash stepped onto the snow covered beach, sinking to her ankles in the frozen mud. Miserable affair indeed.
She trudged along, eyes scanning the craggy cliffs above them for any sign of a cave or opening or a damned sign that said ‘Harlow’s hideaway, please join the party.’
Every few minutes or so she’d hear Ominis’ whispered ‘revelio’ and she’d hope.
Three hours later, after a check-in with Sebastian that revealed his wind-chapped cheeks and no breakthroughs, Ash felt her mind wandering.
It was tedious work, staring at cliff faces, dragging your boots through icy mud, hoping for a revelation. And Ash hated tedious work. She drug her wand along a crag in the cliff, feeling for a tug of her magic towards it.
Ominis’ sinking footsteps led further down the beach and she watched his shimmering figure. He had chastised Sebastian during their check-in for not utilizing a head wrap to protect himself while airborne, to Sebastian’s dismay. Ash had watched the interaction rapturously, studying the way Ominis’ fingers flexed and hyperextended at his side when Sebastian patted his shoulder. She had spent weeks analyzing every touch, every facial expression, every crack in Ominis’ porcelain facade— and when Ominis had reached for Sebastian as the brunette remounted his broom, Ash knew.
Ash dropped her wand from the crack in the rock and followed Ominis’ footsteps. When she was sure the boy was only a few feet ahead of her she spoke, “You’re in love with him.”
The muddy footprints ceased their movement and the only sound was the whistling wind and waves lapping at their feet. His lack of refutation was enough of an answer. And it was as if all the puzzle pieces snapped into place.
Venom welled in her veins, “When I came to you in the Undercroft bloody and broken fifth year, and you sewed me up and bade me to never talk to him again— when you watched me sob and plead for you to not make me do it, was it because you were jealous?” The words burned as she spit them out, and she relished in the echo of her voice off the cliffs around them.
“No I’m not jealous,” he snapped, dropping his disillusionment, ”Jealousy requires the basis of probability and I am smart enough to know that I do not have a chance. But I didn’t and I still don’t want you to ruin him.”
Ash ensured they were alone before dropping her own disillusioned form, a pained look on her face, “Does Sebastian seem ruined, Ominis? Does he seem worse off than before I stumbled into his life?”
“He has always been a damned fool, for Anne, for his own selfish reasons, but now he’s a fool unbridled. He has no qualms with crucifying every person in his way— your way, not with you guiding his hand.” Ominis stepped closer, “Here we are running across the countryside in hopes of what? I doubt either you or Sebastian plans to collect Harlow and deposit him in Azkaban—“
“You didn’t have to come.” Ash interrupted, hating how easy it was for Ominis to make her feel small, idiotic.
“Yes I did,” he bit out the words, ”Because I am the only voice of reason and I will keep Sebastian from tearing his soul to pieces over you.”
A heartbeat and then two of silence before she spoke, “Does Sebastian know?”
He straightened, jaw tensed as his milky eyes stared through her. Ominis face was as warm as the glacial landscape around them.
“I won’t tell,” she said, raising her chin, ”I won’t breathe a word of it to him. Even if you would never afford me the same courtesy.”
Ash stalked past him, raising her wand to re-cast her disillusionment before she spoke again.
”You apologized once. For cutting me off like a rotted limb fifth year. You told me that you felt bad about how it hurt me. Was that true? Or was that apology for Sebastian’s benefit?”
“I regret my part in your decline,” he said quietly but not softly. “But I did what was necessary to protect him. And if you loved him, you would realize the path you lead him down is to his detriment.”
There was nothing more to say. Nothing to soothe the ache that lodged itself in her gut. Ominis knew where to hit her, what bruises to poke to inflict the most pain. Sebastian was an open wound, one she had began to sew closed with every tender touch and kiss they shared— with every affection she allowed herself to have. And Ominis simply took a blade and sliced her open.
The magic roared in her blood, screaming in her mind as it fought to slip through the cracks in the cage locked around it. It raged for her to grab the blond boy and remind him who she was— to teach a lesson, with pain as her instrumental teacher. But she could never hurt Ominis, no matter what suffering he inflicted upon her.
The sound of footfalls landing behind her had every thought replaced with panic, and Ash spun raising her wand—
Sebastian, broom in hand, strode down the front covered beach towards them. Ash dropped her wand, furrowing her brows as she started towards him; not caring about Ominis behind her.
“Sebastian? What’s wrong? How did you find us—“
“I found it.” He breathed, taking her face in his hands.
Everything stopped, frozen as if the ice around her had gripped her body and soul. Her hands were on his, holding his to her cheeks, “Where?”
“Ten kilometers Northeast, further down this stretch. I know it’s the cave. There is a bay, the cave is tucked into it, huge opening. There was a smaller crag higher up the cliff further North that matches the description from the tome; the entry about the patient who jumped into the sea.” His words tumbled out, one after the other as if he could contain them no longer, “I headed back as soon as I found it, casting revelios every ten feet to find you and Ominis. Little did I need it though, considering the two of you were out in the open, uncharmed.” Sebastian gave her a pointed look, one that expected a recount of whatever fight had spurred her and Ominis to drop their enchantments in the midst of a mission.
Ash couldn’t care less about Ominis words, not with the hope and relief blooming in her chest. She let out a laugh, and threw her arms around Sebastian’s neck, “You found it!”
Sebastian grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into him as he spun her around, grinning widely “We found it—“
“Did you find anything inside the cave?” Ominis asked from behind.
Sebastian set Ash back on her feet, and he dropped his gaze to her eyes. He let out a breath, then another as the smile slowly fell from his face. He clenched his jaw, rolling his tongue along his cheek, “I didn’t go inside.”
He looked over her shoulder then, at Ominis, “I couldn’t.”
___•___
Two hours later the three of them were disillusioned, and crouched behind a jut of red jagged rock looking into the mouth of the bay. They were half a quidditch pitch in length away from the cave, far enough away that the two Ashwinders standing at the inlet of the giant cavity in the cliff face looked like little more than toy soldiers.
The cliff faces rose majestically, their rugged contours etched in shadows by the high winter sun. Each crag and crevice highlighted by the crimson hue of the surrounding rocks, standing steadfast against the relentless assault of the sea. Near the water's edge, the waves crashed against the beach, their frothy spray painting a mosaic of white against the frosty mud.
The cave entrance appeared like a gaping maw in the side of the cliff, a dark portal beckoning the curious to venture forth into its depths. The jagged edges of the opening were smoothed by centuries of wind and water erosion.
Ash’s legs burned from the crouched position they held but she didn’t dare move.
Ominis had been silent since their arrival at the bay. Ash knew his tense silence was due less to not revealing their presence and more to the fact that Ominis knew what finding this cave meant.
“Harlow’s here,” she breathed, never more thankful for the whistling wind covering her voice, “We were right.”
Fear danced like lightning through her veins, coating every pore, every cell. They were right. They were right and Harlow was here, in Ranrok’s old base— in the cave that horrible experiments took place centuries ago.
Ash could feel the ancient magic radiating from the cavern, old and thick and heavy. It tugged at that abyss inside of her, and Isidora’s magic purred in response— as if sensing its maker’s mark beyond the opening of the cave.
Months of searching, of translating, and researching, and they had found it. But the hope that had bloomed when Sebastian broke the news was seemingly squashed underfoot at the sight of Ashwinders. Sure, she had hoped that the cave was a base for Harlow. Had hoped that she could stop him before he could enact whatever plan Rookwood had set in motion. But she wasn’t ready.
Her hands shook at her sides, every breath a laborious effort. Fighting Rookwood had nearly killed her— her at her best. And Ranrok had killed Professor Fig while she stood there drenched in power.
Her nails but into her palms, tearing crescent shaped holes into the flesh. God, she couldn’t breathe—
If she went in now, even with the suppressant, she would die.
Sebastian would die—
Sebastian’s breath was against her ear, “Ash love, breathe.” A hand was on her back, causing their concealed forms to shimmer, “We’re heading back to the castle—“
Ash made a noise of protest, despite the panic pulling her under waves of blood and death at her hands—
“Yes love, none of us are ready for a battle today. We need a plan before we rush in, wands blazing.” Sebastian murmured, stroking her back.
Her state must have been bad indeed for Sebastian to insist on regrouping for a plan. The boy who fifth year burst into poacher camps with her cursing and chasing behind him.
The air was still suffocating despite his calming voice. Her hands felt sticky, warm, and she thought that if she removed her disillusionment, she’d find blood coated up to her elbows— her neck even.
The magic, despite her lack of control, was locked up tight. There would be no tidal waves of power unleashed, no matter how it shook at the cage bars.
Sebastian’s mouth was against her temple, “You’ve got to breathe. You won’t face him today, or any day if you choose. We will go back to the castle, and I will feed you chocolate covered strawberries while you take a bath. How does that sound?”
Overly romantic and contrived, she would’ve said if her mouth was working. It sounded like she was a wounded animal and she was sick of being wounded. She inhaled through her nose, and out through her mouth.
“Or I could ravish you on top of your beloved piano, we haven’t tried that yet.” He whispered, lips brushing her hairline. Distracting her. He was good at that— when she felt like she was balancing on the edge of a cliff, he knew how to pull her back.
Another breath, deeper this time.
“Let’s go home, love.”
It was a struggle to tear her gaze from the Ashwinders, leaned unceremoniously against each side of the cave entrance. She forced herself to turn, facing where she knew Sebastian was despite his shimmering form.
“Let’s go home.” Ash whispered back.
___•___
“We should contact the ministry.” Ominis said, his voice clipped. The three of them had barely drug themselves to the small wooden table amidst the barrels and crates in the Undercroft before Ominis broke the silence.
“Because the ministry has been so much help in the past.” Sebastian drawled, dropping into his chair and pulling Ash down with him. She sank against him, relishing in the soft patterns he traced on her back.
Ominis ran a hand over his face, “So what then? We waltz into Theophilus Harlow’s base of operations and then what Sebastian?” Ominis exhaustion was palpable, etched into every furrow of his brow and sag of his shoulders.
“Waltzing would be unhelpful. I think a Quadrille would be more appropriate.” Sebastian retorted, intertwining his left hand with her own on her lap.
Ominis clenched his jaw, “This is not a joke Sebastian—“
“You’re right, the joke is that you think there is any other way to end this fight with Harlow.” Sebastian interrupted, and Ash tensed as the vitriol in his voice, “Ash tried sending Harlow to Azkaban but it didn’t stick, so what makes you think it would work a second time?”
Ominis pinched his brow, hovering beside the table but never sitting, “It’s murder, Sebastian.”
“It’s justice—“ Sebastian started, but Ash was done watching from the sidelines.
“Sebastian won’t be the one to do it, Ominis.” Her voice was rough, final.
Sebastian gripped her tighter, squeezing her fingers.
Ominis scoffed, “Yes because you are in proper fighting condition. You couldn’t even bare to be near Harlow’s location for Godric’s sake—“
“That’s enough, Ominis—“ Sebastian growled.
“—She is going to get us all killed Sebastian!”
Silence greeted him as an answer. Ash stared at the wooden table, at the three sets of initials carved into its surface. O.G, S.S, A.S. She wondered what they’d feel like under her fingertips. Would there be splinters? Or would it be smooth? Muffled shouting sounded around her she thought, but she couldn’t hear it. She just heard screaming, and screaming, and screaming in her head.
___•___
Late into the night, when the moon began dipping back to the horizon, and Ominis had long since said his farewells, Ash and Sebastian laid awake; the latter staring at the canopy of their shared bed, the former staring at him. Ash didn’t recall leaving the Undercroft; she actually recalled nothing after the point in which Ominis stated that she’d cause their ultimate demise. The ringing in her ears had only just subsided. She wondered if her magic would have obliterated the Undercroft had she not been wrapped in the effects of the suppressant potion.
Ash stared at Sebastian’s side profile, monitored the rise and fall of his chest. To anyone else Sebastian seemed calm, but she knew better. No, Sebastian wasn’t calm— he was warring with something.
“I’m sorry that I continually cause confrontations between you and Ominis.” Ash murmured, her voice raw and hoarse though she wasn’t sure why.
“If it wasn’t over you, it would be over something else. Ominis cannot help but insert himself into any situation involving me.” Sebastian’s own voice was low, betraying that serenity he wanted to project.
Ash didn’t explain why Ominis was so invested. No, despite her lack of importance in the boy’s life, it was not her secret to tell. She understood, in some fucked up way, Ominis’ motivations. She too cared about little else besides the brunette beside her. She too would burn it all down if he asked.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Sebastian snorted and the sound was anything but amused, “You, of course. I think of little else these days.”
Ash stayed silent, tracing the lines of his jaw with her eyes. He let out a breath, “I’m thinking about how you started screaming in my lap after Ominis said—“ He cut himself off, not intending on repeating the conversation,
“How you weren’t even in there. I couldn’t bring you back.”
Ash blinked. She had been screaming? It explained the state of her vocal cords, but she couldn’t remember it. Ominis had said horrible things before, so why had that sentence made her snap?
“I thought you were in pain, you kept clutching your skull.” Sebastian clenched his jaw, not in anger she knew, “Took hours just to calm you enough to bring you up here.” He sighed, running a hand over his face, “I think it was the potion. In a moment where your magic would’ve tried to unleash itself, the potion blocked it and caused that reaction.”
Ash didn’t counter his thoughts, instead she brought her hand up and traced the dips between his fingers lying splayed on the sheets, “What are we going to do about Harlow?”
“I don’t know.”
She didn’t either. But it seemed too important for a sleep deprived conversation. Tomorrow. She would figure it out tomorrow.
Ash turned to face the canopy herself but laced her fingers through his, grounding him in the present the way he so often did for her. She ran her thumb over the back of his hand, drawing runes for protection, and happiness. Silence surrounded them, heavy and thick.
Sebastian breathed deeply as she shifted on the bed, his eyes shut tightly. “It was you.”
She furrowed her brows, but listened.
“At the beginning of term, in potions, you asked what I smelled in the Amortentia," he murmured, his gaze locking onto her side profile with a bottomless intensity. "It was you. I knew it would be before I even stepped up to the cauldron."
Ash's breath caught in her throat. She turned her head, catching his eyes. Moonlight looked so pretty on his skin, giving his myriad of freckles, his constellations, the backdrop they deserved. His confession hung between them like a delicate thread, tethering them together. He squeezed her hand.
"And fucking Weasley... he got it wrong," he continued, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and frustration. "Vanilla, wildfire, and electricity." He shook his head, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. He turned his head back to the ceiling, words flowing like honey, "It wasn't just vanilla. It's the cream in those vanilla macarons you devour like oxygen. Subtler than something as tawdry as a vanilla bean itself."
Ash felt a warmth spreading through her chest at the realization that he had noticed, that he had remembered. More than that even, that he knew her. All of her.
"And wildfire, that implies ashes, smoke," he continued, his tone turning reverent. He paused, as if searching for the perfect words to capture her essence. "You smell of fire itself," he murmured, his voice low and reverent. "Not the stifling smoke of a hearth, but the untamed flames dancing in the heart of a bonfire. Free. beautiful.”
He continued rolling his eyes, “Electricity is so vague. So…wrong.” He shook his head, “Power. A spark so volatile that you could demolish us all if you wished. You smell of lightning, of storms, of raw magic.”
Her throat felt thick and heavy, and she could do little else but squeeze his hand. He faced her again, brown eyes taking in every detail of her face.
“It burns me up that Weasley had you,” he scoffed, “that he had such perfection in his hands and cocked it up so badly.”
He lifted his free hand and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing over the scar so softly it nearly tickled. “I’m glad he cocked it up.” He smirked and she grinned in return.
“I was never his Sebastian. I was always yours.” She murmured in return. She leaned into his touch, desperate to forget the problems that awaited them when the sun rose, “I smelled you too, you know.”
Sebastian smirk grew, “Oh I know. Autumn, and books, and midnight? That definitely wasn’t Weasley.”
She rolled her eyes at his cockiness but her smile couldn’t be helped, “Yes well, it could’ve been Professor Sharp you know. He’s quite handsome—“
Sebastian’s laugh was light incarnate, a symphony. A sound she wished she could bottle and keep for herself. She would sell her very soul for the chance to make him laugh forever.
There was little she wouldn’t do for him. And the thought didn’t scare her the way it should.