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Blood Bound Part 8

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Sebastian has a favour to ask his twin amid concerns about Rookwood’s intentions. Meanwhile, MC takes the first step into her new future, only it isn't what she planned...

Words 10.9k Tags: NSFW / sexual activity / angst / sibling tension / mentions of abuse / dark magic / anxiety

Chapter Master List and Ao3

Tagging List at the end.

Eight: The First Move

The years spent within the darkness of her cell had cut MC off from human interaction. The days stretched into a blur of cold shadows and screaming terror, the air of madness was so thick it had seeped into the very stone of the walls, encapsulating the horror with no escape. Starved of touch and affection, MC had hidden the soft parts of herself behind mental barriers to protect her mind, and around her heart she had erected stone walls of a different kind. These walls protected her from the madness, but it had also left her feeling numb and empty. She had become one with the darkness, a shadow of her former self. Lonely.

Outside, the real world was loud and bright, with people who spoke to her, their eyes meeting hers and probing against these protections that she had been forced to surround herself with. Fearful of making the mistake of placing her trust in the wrong person, unwilling to find herself trapped and utterly alone again, MC couldn’t imagine being able to lower these barriers.

Until now.

The cavern of emptiness behind her ribs ached to be filled. To feel wanted, to be seen as a person and not the number that had been branded into the skin of her neck. It was a deeply profound thing. Still frightened of what it could mean, she had come to Leander in the dark of the night to explore the sensations of warmth that had begun to slip through the cracks of her rigid control. Here, in his bedroom, she had dared to cross a line that made her tremble with anticipation.

Teetering on the edge of abandon, MC tipped her head back, Leander’s large hands cradling the back of it, his fingers threaded into her unbound hair as his lips tasted her exposed throat. Her own lips were parted in a soft sigh, a fierce ache beginning to grow in her lower abdomen as she worked her hips in a slow grind against his lap. Her hands smoothed up his chest to grip his shoulders, her teeth catching on her lower lip as she felt the growing hardness through the soft cotton of his pyjama bottoms. He had somehow broken through her shields leaving her a wanton, breathless vessel of need. It was scandalous how she rutted against him, and yet it felt so good.

Whispering her name against her throat, Leander held her hips, looking down to watch as she writhed against him. He moaned, his hips flexing towards her heat.

“Gods…you are so…tempting,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against her shoulder. His hands slid upwards towards her waist, dragging her nightgown in his grip to expose her thighs. The feel of his hands sent searing flame through the thin cotton of her nightdress, the sensitivity of her skin causing sparks to fly through her blood. The heat gathered deep within, her breathing heavy as she allowed herself to push back those mental barriers.

“Tell me you want more,” she whispered, her fingers caressing his neck and teasing at his hair. Capturing his lower lip with her mouth, she sucked slowly at the plump flesh, savouring the little whimper that came from his throat.

Despite the darkness of his room, she could still see the intensity of his gaze, looking into the honey brown of his eyes and feeling the fire that blazed behind them. It was a power all of its own to know she could capture him this way. It emboldened her, made her push past the insecurities of knowing she was still too thin, her skin pale from years in the dark. Slowly, she pulled at the ribbon on the front of her nightgown, loosening the fastening until the fabric began to slide off one shoulder.

Leander watched, his cheeks darkening as more of her skin became exposed to him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “We don’t have to…I mean, I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you,” he faltered, his eyes unable to look away as her nightgown slipped even further, the lace trimmed edge dangerously close to exposing her breast.

“What if I am taking advantage of you, Prewett?” She murmured, the curve of her mouth teasing as she took hold of one of his hands and placed it against her chest, her skin craving the contact to the point of exquisite torture.

His throat worked as he swallowed, the tips of his fingers trembling slightly as they ghosted against her skin, tracing delicate lines until the base of his hand nudged the edge of her nightgown. It slipped, dropping to expose the soft curve of her breast, her breath catching in her throat as his palm grazed against the tightening peak. He stared, transfixed as his fingers traced along the swooping curve, outlining the shape as his thumb grazed in a teasing stroke over her nipple. She gasped softly at the tingling fire spreading out from the stiff arousal, goosebumps erupting across her skin at his feather light exploration.

“Lee…please,” she whispered, her fingers gripping into the soft hair at the back of his head.

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” He asked softly, his eyes lifting to look at her more closely.

She could see the concern in his eyes, his effortless nature of being a gentleman strong enough to bypass the obvious need she could feel pressing urgently through his pyjama bottoms against her heat. It wasn’t an unreasonable question considering she had spent the last four years incarcerated in a prison cell, thrown there when she was barely sixteen. She realised it would be best not to go into too much detail about the how and when of her sexual past, not wanting Sebastian hovering between them at this moment.

She nodded to confirm that she had done this before, capturing his lips in a teasing kiss, grinding against his lap with slow rolls of her hips. It had been a long time, but her need bypassed her nerves, her body seeking relief now that she had opened herself to the flame. “I’m not a virgin,” she whispered, keeping her mouth achingly close against his. “Take me, Lee. Please, make me feel alive.”

The look he gave her stole her breath, his eyes darkening with a desire that pulled fiercely on the growing fire in her belly. The handsome lines of his face changed from his usual soft disposition into something edgier, almost dangerous, as his hands fisted into the soft cotton of her nightdress and dragged it upwards with clear intent. A ragged gasp left her mouth, her arms lifting willingly as he tore the garment from her body and discarded it into the room.

He swore under his breath, his fingers biting into the delicate flesh of her hips as he devoured her nakedness with hungry eyes. The change in him was palpable, and she had barely begun to work on the buttons of his sleep shirt before he rolled her onto her back, claiming her mouth with a passion bursting with confidence and unabated hunger.

Her breath was stolen at his urgency, the confident slide of his hands over her flesh waking up every nerve ending that had slumbered under tight control. The heat of his kiss seared her skin as he mouthed along her collar bone, working his way down towards her aching, heavy breasts. Her back arched in ecstasy as he sucked a peak into his mouth, his hand cupping the back of her thigh and adjusting her leg to his liking, his fingers dragging across quivering muscle to drift teasingly close to where she throbbed for him.

The anticipation was almost overwhelming, her lungs burning as she dragged in rasping breaths, her blood singing with desperation as she clung to him. “Please,” she whined, her brow creasing and her teeth dragging across her lower lip as his fingers brushed against her core.

“Don’t worry,” he promised, kissing his way along her jaw before finding her mouth. “Let me take care of you.”

A few deft strokes from his fingertips and he was in, twisting the length of his finger into her slick, tight heat. She echoed his breathless groan, closing her eyes as she lost herself in his torturous exploration. He definitely seemed to know what he was doing, the relief so sweet she could almost taste it as he worked her open, adding a second finger that had her nails digging into the flesh of his arm.

Just when she thought she could ride out the rhythmic thrust of his fingers, balanced on the wave of pleasure he was building, the pad of his thumb began to circle slowly, each delicate swipe thrumming over her unbelievably sensitive bundle of nerves.

“There…Lee,” she cried, arching against him, eyes wide. Her body tensed, overwhelmed and on the brink of shattering already. His hand slowed, his mouth pressing soft kisses along her neck until his lips were grazing her ear.

“Easy, easy. Relax,” he whispered, eliciting shivers along her spine. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat, the sensations he was awaking inside of her like huge, crashing waves. “I’ve got you, you can let go.”

He began to pleasure her again, slowly this time, each swipe of thumb and plunge of fingers throwing more fuel onto the building inferno deep in her core. Her hips rocked of their own will, low moans leaving her lips with abandon as she gradually loosened her grip on her control, giving in to the sensations he was giving her. Heat flamed across her cheeks, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sleep shirt as she felt herself tightening again, her gaze drifting down to watch as his hand moved with erotic ease. Lost for words, she allowed herself to give in, her hips bearing downwards as she slipped off the edge into pulsing, molten release.

His kisses danced across her flushed cheeks. “I hope you know how beautiful you are,” he said, the tip of his nose nudging against hers.

It felt so strange to hear those words on his lips, her head barely able to accept them as truth despite the way he was looking at her. Awestruck might have been the word to use as his hands soothed across her heated skin. Her heart was pounding, nerve endings still twitching with pleasure as her body floated on the ebbing tide of release. Wanting to repay him for making her feel this way, she opened his sleep shirt, her hands seeking out the warm flesh of his chest.

His pale skin was peppered with freckles that spread up and over his shoulders. Slipping the shirt from him, she caressed his soft skin in gentle exploration, watching his face to witness the effect she was having on him. Brushing against a pink nipple made him twitch, her lips curving into a soft smile as she teased down over his stomach to toy with the soft, copper hair that grew there, the fiery trail leading downward below the waistband of his pyjamas.

“Can I touch you?”

He smiled, huffing with amusement through his nose. “I’ve been wanting you to do just that since I was 16,” he said, his eyes lingering on her mouth before he kissed her, slowly. “I can’t believe I can kiss you like this, touch you like this…”

His hand slid upwards over her ribs, cupping a breast and rolling her nipple under his thumb. MC touched her hand to his cheek, the warmth she could feel pooling behind her ribs making her feel like she might be in trouble with Mr Prewett. She had wanted to feel something other than cold and empty, and he was stirring things she wasn’t sure she was prepared for. How had she missed his sweetness all those years ago? It made her wonder how different the trajectory of her time at Hogwarts would have turned out had she befriended this loyal Gryffindor sooner?

She did not deserve the light he bestowed upon her, and yet she was greedily taking it, basking under the burn of his gaze as he touched her. Maybe she was selfish for letting this happen, maybe she was going to destroy whatever this was between them, because that was the pattern her life seemed to follow. Anything good she ever found managed to slip through her fingers. But, right now, she didn’t have the strength to pull away from how he was making her feel. Her skin burned under his hands, each fiery tingle reminding her that she was, in fact, alive.

Dipping her hand lower, she pushed at the waistband of his trousers, sliding them down over his hips to expose the length of his arousal. Looking down, she bit her lip at the swollen size of him, the pink tip already leaking in anticipation. Making his teenage fantasy come true, she touched him, sliding her hand along the silken length and smoothing her thumb along the pulsing vein. His breathless groan filled her ear as he dipped his head, burying his face against her neck as his pelvis flexed towards her touch. Shifting beneath him, she widened her legs to accommodate him, a slight flutter of nerves awakening as she felt the thick press of him at her entrance. She had only ever been with one boy, and that was a long time ago.

Leander was gentle but determined as he took her, considerate as always. The stretch made her eyes water, her back arching as he carefully pushed testing thrusts into her, his cheeks flushed scarlet and his eyes closing in bliss. “Fuck, MC…” He panted, his voice strained as he bottomed out. Glancing downwards he made another low sound in his throat, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s so…Gods, that looks amazing.”

MC felt her cheeks flush at his admiration, too aware of how her bones still poked up against her skin, how tired and weak she was already beginning to feel despite being on her back. Unlike him, towering above her, the muscles of his arms and shoulders were taut and strong where he was bracing himself to avoid crushing her. His hips pushed even deeper, grinding carefully and she pushed back against him, gasping as she felt him hit her limit deep inside.

“It’s a tight fit,” she murmured, meeting his gaze as he hummed in agreement.

“It’s a damned perfect fit,” he said, biting his lip. “You have no idea how desperately I’m clinging on to my restraint. I just want to…mmph…”

She moved her hips, rolling them gently and smirking at the twist of pleasure that crossed his expression. “Don’t hold back on my account,” she said, her voice low. It was so satisfying, and breathtakingly sexy to see him so close to losing it.

Bracing his forearm near her head, he began to move, his other hand settling on the curve of her waist. Building a rhythm that had them both breathing hard, MC found herself unable to stop staring up at him, the darkened glow of desire in his blown out eyes had her entranced. His moans made her shiver, her palms smoothing over toned muscle and reaching around to grasp the soft peach of his backside. Caught up in the intimacy of the act, MC felt the bloom of affection in her chest spread.

Had it only been days since she had been curled up tight in a cold cell, the darkness staring back at her, grief ripping through her at the thought that she might never see him again. Now look at her, spread beneath him, their bodies joined in an act destined for lovers. If somebody had told her that this is where she would end up that day he had first entered her cell, she would never have believed it, and yet this felt so spine tingling good.

As she traced her hand down his face, she caught a glimpse of the scar on her palm, the memory of cutting through her skin to pledge herself to Sebastian flashing through her mind. The fire in her blood was not pain, opening herself to Leander was not calling the pact to hurt her. The only flames searing her flesh were the ones Leander ignited with his mouth and his hands, every thrust of his hips elevating her higher onto a plane where there was no darkness, only light.

Burying his flushed face into her neck, Leander found his release. MC wrapped her thin arms around him, holding him tightly against her, savouring the deep, penetrating throb of him filling her up. She could feel the thunder of his heartbeat, her hands soothing the rapid rise and fall of his back as he breathed. He was hot, solid, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of her neck. Laying here entangled in his arms, she felt safe.

Letting her head lean against his, she closed her eyes, savouring the moment because she wasn’t sure if it would ever come again. The thought turned over in her mind, the warmth behind her ribs drawing back as the uncertainty of the future lay in wait. She had to leave him soon, and this sudden closeness they had formed would no doubt slip away. She would be alone again. Her eyes burned beneath the lids, an ache that felt suspiciously like loss already forming, making a solitary tear leak from the corner of her eye.

Leander

He awoke to the sound of birdsong outside the bedroom window, blinking at the pale sunlight filtering through the curtain and stretching languidly with a yawn. He lay a hand against his bare chest, remembering he was naked, pushing himself up onto his elbows as he stared at the empty part of the bed beside him. The rumpled, turned back blankets showed the only signs that MC had ever been here with him, her disappearance throwing a cloud over the happy glow he’d fallen asleep with. Turning his gaze towards the closed bedroom door, he sighed. He hadn’t even heard her slip away.

Falling back against the pillows, Leander closed his eyes and replayed every moment spent with his night time visitor, savouring the memories she had given him. Her soft skin, the sounds she made when he touched her, the feel of her…he could list so many things that made his heart pound, his heated blood rushing downwards to make him twitch with arousal. Brushing back the tousled mess of his hair, he blew a slow breath through his lips to calm his thoughts, and climbed from his bed to start the day.

Washed and dressed, he entered the kitchen to make some tea, noticing the empty healing and restoring potion bottles that had been left on the table. MC must have already risen, and he could see the washed items from her breakfast on the side. As he picked up the empty potion bottles to return them to the box provided by the Healer, he frowned, realising it was missing. Checking the cupboard he noticed some food items missing too, and a ball of panic settled into the pit of his stomach.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he hurried to MC’s bedroom door and knocked. When there was no answer, he opened it, risking her temper, but the room was empty. Bed neatly made, her clothes gone, he felt his throat tighten as the signs pointed to the sickening realisation that she had fled.

Returning back downstairs, he fought back the burn of tears, his face and neck hot as he tried to squeeze out the emotions spiralling in his chest. He had told her she was free to go whenever she wanted to, but after last night and what they had shared, the idea of her running without saying a word felt like a fist to the stomach. Emotional turmoil aside, he was faced with a dilemma as her Auror. He said he wouldn’t have to chase after her, but they had not planned their meetings, and there was always the chance that she had run to avoid all of this, not just him.

Feeling nauseous, Leander pushed a hand through his neatly combed hair and left the cottage. Striding down the path, not entirely sure where he was headed in his panic, he came to an immediate stop at the gate and sucked in a huge breath of relief. Ahead, right at the cliff edge, sat MC. The sea breeze tugged at her hair and clothes, her arms were wrapped around herself as she stared out to sea, her bag of things at her feet. Leander rubbed a shaking hand against his mouth, relief so strong washing over him that his legs shook with it.

Slowly, cautiously, he walked towards MC, coming to a stop beside her and carefully sitting down without looking at her. Keeping his gaze towards the ocean, he balanced his arms on his knees and took a steadying breath. “There is something powerful about the ocean, isn’t there? It’s constantly moving and changing, appearing calm and welcoming from a distance, but you should never underestimate it.”

It was a few moments before she spoke, her voice low and soft. “I underestimated you.”

He turned his head to look at her, a slight crease on his brow. Her pale face was reddened from tears, her eyes darkened with sadness that made his chest cave. “What do you mean? Did I hurt you?” He asked, his panic seizing him again.

“Oh, goodness, no,” she said, shaking her head. She put her hand on his arm, turning to face him properly. “No, you didn’t hurt me, Leander.”

He looked from her hand on his arm to her face, searching her eyes. “You packed to leave,” he said, hating the tremor in his voice. He was supposed to be a professional Auror, in charge of this situation, and yet he had broken rules and seduced her. He shouldn’t blame her for trying to run, he was a damned fool.

MC nodded, her eyes shifting towards the bag beside her before hanging her head. “I thought about running,” she admitted, her fingers gripping a little tighter onto his arm. She huffed a humourless laugh and shook her head. “I couldn’t go through with it, though. I got this far and realised that I have nowhere to go, and no clue what to do. Not only that, but…”

“But what?”

A blush stained her cheeks as she met his gaze. His heart thudded wildly behind his ribs as they stared at each other, last night hanging heavy in the air between them. A small smile curved her lips despite the tears still shining in her eyes, and she let his arm go, settling down beside him again to look out at the ocean. “I didn’t want to let my Auror down,” she said.

He fought back his smile, fiddling with the cuff of his jumper as he thought about her words. She didn’t want to let him down. He rather liked how she called him hers, too, but he shouldn’t be getting carried away with things like that.

“Do you really have nowhere to go? Is there anybody I could contact for you? Family, or an old friend perhaps?”

“No. I don’t have any family. Sebastian was probably the closest thing to family I’ve ever had, and now I’m not even sure if he cares anymore,” she said, a brittle edge to her voice that sliced through him.

Thinking back to his confrontation with Sebastian down in the tunnels, he remembered the Slytherin saying that he would never give up on MC. Leander didn’t want to tell her, a selfish streak wanting to hold on to what he had with her, knowing that she would go to Sebastian eventually anyway. Why hurry that along? It wasn’t very honourable of him, and he bit his lip. He was so entangled with all that she was that he feared where it was headed, the soft warmth behind his ribs had grown again overnight, refusing to disappear despite his efforts to ignore it.

“Well, you are welcome to stay with me as long as you wish,” he offered, inwardly berating himself for being selfish, but unable to stop himself. “And I’m not just saying that because we shared a bed last night. It would, of course, be a no strings attached offer.”

“About last night,” she said, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Leander.”

There it was. She was going to say it was a mistake, it shouldn’t have happened. The fact that she had tried to sneak off without saying goodbye spoke volumes, but hearing her dismissal of what they had shared was still going to hurt. With a sinking feeling in his chest, he nodded. “It’s alright. You don’t need to say anything. I know I shouldn’t read too much into it.”

“Please, don’t take it the wrong way, Lee. I’m not the kind of girl a man can take home to his mother,” she said, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around her legs. “I can see marriage to a respectable, young lady in your future. Someone who you can come home to everyday, and have lovely, red-haired babies with. That’s a future you deserve, Lee.”

He could see the way she was closing herself off, holding herself tightly, that carefully blank look coming over her tear-stained face. Whenever she was like this, her fingers would caress that blood scar on her palm, and he knew that Sallow was lurking in her head. Her eyes were dark and avoiding him, and he longed to reach out for her, hold her close and feel that connection he was sure snapped into place last night. But, he kept his hands to himself, pushing back his own desires. She was a vulnerable, young lady, and he wouldn’t be the man he aimed to be if he took even more advantage of her.

The future she had described did sound lovely. It would be nice to come home to someone everyday, especially on those days when a case had drained him. The idea of children seemed so far out of reach, a dream more than anything, and not something he wanted until his job could provide a bit more safety. Aurors lived on the edge when out on the field, danger lurking around every corner. That was far easier to deal with when you only had yourself to worry about.

“What do you see in your future?” He asked curiously.

Her sigh was so deep it pulled her shoulders down, her body hunched over her knees as she stared out over the ocean. “I don’t know,” she said wearily. “I’m not even sure I know who, or what I am, other than a convicted criminal with no roots, destined to float around in search of something. The only trouble is I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“You can be anything you want, MC. Think about it. Your future is yours, it’s out there waiting for you,” he said, giving in and reaching out for her. He took hold of her cold hand, and she didn’t pull away, her gaze dropping to look at their linked fingers. “You’ve got a blank parchment , and you get to decide what is written upon it.”

Her lips twitched in wry amusement. “You mean, I can make myself the hero of my own story.”

“Why not?” He smiled. “It’s your story, after all.”

A shadow passed over her features, but she squeezed his hand, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “I need to start infiltrating the Ashwinders, Lee. That’s the first step. I don’t want to put it off any longer.”

He nodded, appreciating the bravery he could see in her eyes. Lifting his free hand, he wiped a stray tear from her cheek. He did hate to see her cry. “You’re right. Come on, let’s go back inside. I’ll make some tea, and we can make a plan,” he said, tugging her up onto her feet. He didn’t let go of her hand, turning to lead her back to the cottage. “I have something to give you that will help us communicate in private. A special parchment that we can charm so that only our wands can read it, and then we can arrange to meet through that. It’s too risky to keep a regular time and place, or send owls that could be intercepted.”

“That is all very secretive and cunning of you, Leander,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m impressed.”

“I’m just trying to consider all options, a bit like Sherlock Holmes. He never ruled out the impossible,” he said, smiling at the thought of one of his favourite books.

“Who’s that?” MC asked, frowning.

“You haven’t read The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes?” He looked down at her in surprise, and then he flushed bright red, biting his lip. He winced and squeezed her hand, realising his error. “I’m sorry. Of course you haven’t. It was only published in recent years. I can lend you my copy if you wish to read it. It’s about a brilliant Muggle detective solving crimes in London.”

“Part of the reading list at Auror boot camp, was it?” She smirked.

“Not quite,” he said, chuckling. “Although, Detective Holmes would make a brilliant wizard.”

They entered the kitchen and he set about putting the water on for tea. MC took a seat at the table and slid the file closer that contained the information on the Ashwinder gang members, opening the cover and staring down at the image of Rookwood, her face tight. She was going to be walking right into the lion’s den, and he had to pat her on the back and encourage it. He couldn’t even go with her because it would blow her cover.

“I meant what I said about having a place to stay if you need it,” he said, putting cups down onto the table. He blushed slightly at his next offer. “If not here, then my own place in London. If I show you where, then you can Apparate in whenever you need to.”

She stared up at him, her face carefully blank. “That is very trusting of you, Leander.”

“I do trust you,” he said firmly, swallowing down the nerves that fluttered in his stomach. His mother definitely wouldn’t approve of him allowing a convicted murderer into his home, and a Slytherin one at that. MC had been right about that point, at least. He still wanted to give her the option to come to him, though, even if it was for his own selfish reasons. “But, only you. All I ask is that you don’t tell anybody else.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly as she leant back in her chair. “There is only one problem with that,” she said. Leander felt his stomach twist up even sharper, wondering if she would finally bring up the subject of Sebastian, his presence lingering between them despite him being miles away. “I don’t know how to Apparate. I was too busy being locked up to catch that lesson.”

He stared, lips parted at the dry sarcasm of her quip. At least she hadn’t rebuffed his offer to stay at his place, and not one comment about Sallow. He straightened, his hand lifting to fiddle with his tie as he fixed her with a determined look. “Then we shall have to remedy that,” he said with a nod. “After our tea, we can go outside and I’ll teach you. I’m sure you will pick it up swiftly being the brilliant witch that you are. You will be popping up out of nowhere in no time.”

Feeling better with a fixed purpose for the day, Leander made the tea, taking the chair opposite MC at the table as they began to discuss the gang members again, and the best place to begin approaching them. They settled on the Black Rose pub as a starting point, and Leander couldn’t deny the tight ball of worry that was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. She may have reminded him that she wasn’t the girl for him in the long run, but that didn’t stop the soft part of him that was falling even deeper into trouble over her.

He had the creeping feeling that the hard part was only just beginning.

Sebastian

The little tea shop where Anne worked had been busy, people coming and going, the tables full inside as Sebastian watched from his spot in the alley across the street. The small glimpses of Anne he had seen through the windows had shown her looking well today, her face seemingly less drawn than usual. He wondered if Ominis had told her much about MC’s case, and what sort of mood she was in today. He hoped it was a good one because for once, he planned to actually approach her. He had a favour to ask, and he would need every advantage he could get.

As he waited for the flurry of customers to die down, he leant against the brick wall of the alley, his hand in his pocket where he could stroke over the blood amulet. He threw the occasional glance towards the tea shop, but his thoughts were fixated on the incident in the back room of the Black Rose pub. The sight of the broken man as his magic had been forced from his body had haunted Sebastian ever since, chasing his sleep out of reach, and making his temper shorter than usual. Rosier had been keeping out of his way, and Luella was still sulking about him not taking her into his bed again.

Rookwood was also absent, Carrow running the helm in London while their sly leader was off elsewhere. It worried Sebastian what Rookwood was up to. The comment about extracting and absorbing magic leaving a cold, nagging feeling at the back of his neck. The man was obsessed with MC and her ancient magic, desperate to have her within their ranks because of the power she could wield. What if Rookwood had his eyes purely on that power? The thought of MC lying broken on the ground whilst that bastard syphoned her strength had him gritting his teeth painfully, his hand fisting around the symbol of their pact.

The loss of Slytherin’s grimoire was deeply regrettable. No doubt it would contain important details he may have forgotten since reading it. He had recognised the extraction spell, but he wanted more information. His gaze swung back to the tea shop, and his twin. Anne had blasted that book to smithereens down in the catacombs in her rage, robbing him of a valuable tool. She was good at that. She loved having control over him. So much so, that she had hidden all of their parents' research from him.

They were young at the time of their parents death, and there was no doubt many things that had been held back from them in order to protect their innocence, but Sebastian knew that whatever they were researching was dangerous. Solomon had let slip a few things in his drunken rants, swinging his fists at Sebastian and predicting that he would come to the same sticky end as his meddling father. Whenever he had tried to fish more information out of his belligerent uncle, he had been rewarded with a split lip, or being locked in the shed with no dinner.

Whatever his parents had been researching, it was regarding dangerous magic, and his curiosity burned with a fervent flame whenever he thought of it. Anne knew where that research was, and remained closed lipped about its location, siding with their bastard uncle on thinking it best Sebastian didn’t know any better.

Sebastian wanted that research. Something in his gut told him there were answers in those files, answers not just for their deaths, but for dangerous magic and its history that might just help with current problems. He had just as much right as Anne to those files, if anything, he would appreciate them more. Locked away in some dusty storage was no use to anyone. If only he could read them, pore over words written by his father and mother. He wanted it, no, he needed those files, like a desire that consumed him.

When the tea shop looked quieter, he crossed the street, avoiding witches and wizards still milling up and down Diagon Alley, and strode towards the door. A little bell rang above his head as he entered, the scent of fresh tea and baked goods wafting under his nose as he glanced around the quaint little space.

“Table for one?” Anne asked, folding her arms as she looked at him, one eyebrow raised in a manner that reminded him of their mother.

“I’d like a table for two, actually,” he said, bestowing his most charming smile upon his pale faced sister. “Surely, you are due a break by now. I thought you could join me.”

Anne led him to a table near the window, the autumn sunlight warm through the glass. He took a chair, sitting down and gesturing for Anne to take the one opposite. She did so, her eyebrow still raised as she clasped her hands together on the tabletop before her.

“Come on, then, out with it,” she said, tilting her head. “What is it you want?”

“I wish merely to spend some time with my sister,” he said, plucking the menu card from the stand on the table and scanning it quickly. “What is the carrot cake like here? I was always partial to a slice of that.”

Anne’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t fool me, Sebastian. You want something. The last time we spoke, you were pretty clear on how you felt about me. Now, out with it.”

Sebastian sighed and lay the menu card down before him, eyeing his sister across the table. She was too smart for her own good, and it was something he had always respected. It was a shame her smartness was matched by her stubbornness, and unfailing ability to piss him off.

“Fine,” he sighed, slouching back in his chair as though he had not a care in the world. “I would like to read Mum and Dad’s research. We are no longer children, nor do we need to be sheltered from whatever it was they discovered.”

“No,” Anne said calmly.

He blinked, staring at the unmoving expression on her face. She didn’t even flinch, frown or sigh. She just said no, as though that would be the end of it. She was mistaken.

“As far as anything goes, our inheritance has always been a shared thing. I have just as much right to access those files as you, sister dearest. I would very much like to read them, please,” he said, keeping his voice as calm and level as possible.

Her clasped hands clenched a little tighter, the only tell he could see that she was becoming agitated by his request. Her face remained annoyingly serene. “I said, no.”

“Why would you deny me access to them?” He frowned, leaning forward. “They were my parents, too, Anne. I miss them. Reading their work would let me feel closer to them again.”

Anne huffed a laugh and shook her head, her gaze drifting out of the mullioned window to the street beyond. “Wow, you really do pull every angle to get what you want, don’t you? Sauntering in here as though we aren’t fighting with that Sallow charm plastered all over your face, but pulling the grieving son act is a low blow, even for you.”

Sebastian’s face tightened, and he placed his hand carefully down onto the table top, the darkness hovering at the edge of his vision as he glared at Anne. “You think I don’t grieve for them, Anne? They were our parents, taken from us when we were so young. Our lives have been nothing but utter shit since they died. Don’t you dare say I pretend to grieve them. If we are talking of low blows, then that was sinking below a dangerous level, and that’s saying something for you after what you did.”

“What I did?” She gaped, fury flaring in her eyes. She leaned across the table, her gaze livid. “You murdered someone.”

“Yes, I did,” he hissed back, his fingers curling into the wood of the table top. It was that, or reach for his wand. “And you lied in a courtroom before the Wizengamot to condemn an innocent witch to prison. All I did was silence a rotten drunk who used his fists to communicate, what you did was far worse in my book.”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? In your book it’s alright to murder and commit crimes, to keep company with the lowest scum of the wizarding world, and you want me to hand over precious files that contain information highly dangerous in the wrong hands. Do you think I'm a fool, Sebastian? You are not getting those files just so you can share them with the likes of Victor Rookwood and his rotten band of followers.”

“As if I would share those files with anyone else!” He ground out, eyes flashing. His chest was tightening with anxiety, flutters of panic spinning in his stomach as the darkness teased at his mind. “They are family heirlooms, Anne. To keep them from me is a betrayal, and I think we have had our fair share of those already. What is so terrible about them that you feel the need to keep them from me?”

Her face twisted as she studied him, a look of anguish that tore him up and made him sit back a moment. She looked down at the table top, her fingers trembling now. “Look at you, Seb,” she said, her words hushed and pained. “You look like a ghost. I’m the one who is cursed, and yet you look ill, brother. I can tell you are not sleeping, you are shaking and your eyes are wild and dark. You have been dabbling with dangerous magic, I know you have. These people you insist on being around are no good for you. Handing over our parents' work is only going to send you spiralling off even further away from me. What kind of sister would I be if I let that happen? Please, Sebastian. You have to stop.”

Dismay flooded through him, his hand coming up to touch tentatively at his brow. Did he really look that bad? He had taken the time to shave the growth on his jaw this morning, hoping to make himself look a bit smarter before seeing her. He never liked the beard to grow too long anyway. Where his body had become more thick-set over the years, he did not wish to resemble his late uncle.

Anxiously tugging at his sleeve on the arm where his tally of deaths were branded on his flesh, he took a steadying breath. “What kind of brother would I be if I did not search to the ends of the Earth to find a way to help my sister?”

“Oh, Sebastian,” she sighed, slowly shaking her head. “What makes you think that there will be anything in mum and dad’s files that will help with what ails me?”

“No knowledge is bad, Anne. There is always something to learn from information discovered, no matter how dark or dangerous it may be,” he said firmly. “Mum was a pursuer of knowledge, and she always taught me to read everything and anything, to question what I learned and consider all angles. Even if that means searching through the darkness, I will always follow her teaching. I don’t mean to do bad things, honestly, I don’t. But, I would do anything for you, Anne. Anything to keep you safe. You are all I have left.”

“What about her? Have you seen her?” Anne’s eyes had the shine of tears, but her face hardened as she asked that question.

“If you mean MC, then no. I’ve not seen her,” he said, clenching his jaw against the stab of disappointment that seared through him.

Anne considered that for a moment, her fingers toying together as she looked out of the window. “Perhaps that is for the best,” she said softly, her eyes shifting back towards him. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but she is another reason I’d rather not share those files with you. MC is a dangerous witch with too much power. I don’t want her seeing those files either.”

His curiosity over that research spiked even higher. There must be something valuable in those files, powerful information that would mean something to the likes of people like Rookwood and MC, who already had power of their own. He hungered after that knowledge, his hands curling into fists through frustration at being blocked off from it. “Please, Anne. I only want to read their research, not share it with anyone. If not for me, do it for them. I’m sure they wouldn’t have stopped me from looking at it, especially Mum.”

“Yes, well, you always were Mummy’s golden boy,” she muttered, letting her hands fall into her lap. She looked drained, tired, her shoulders slumped as she considered him. “I will think about it.”

Thinking about it was one step closer than a flat out no. A smile lifted his lips, a smile of hope that seemed to push back some of the shadows that lingered over his face. “Thank you, Anne,” he said, inclining his head in acknowledgment of her offer.

“Let me get you that slice of carrot cake,” she said, getting to her feet. She paused, holding her hand to her stomach, a grimace of pain crossing her face. Sebastian moved to stand, his worry for her creasing his brow.

“Anne…”

She waved him off, breathing heavier but managing a grim smile. “I’m alright, don’t fuss. Sit back down, or I won’t fetch you that cake. If you behave yourself, I’ll even bring some tea along with it.”

Sebastian slowly sat back down in his chair, giving her one of his best smiles, but the worry lingered in his eyes as he watched her walk across the tea shop, her frame so small and frail. He would always worry about her, no matter how much they squabbled. She was his blood, his kin. And he really would do anything for her.

Dressed in dark clothing, a dark green silk scarf at her throat, and a black robe about her shoulders, MC descended the stairs of Shell Cottage with a stomach full of butterflies. After an afternoon of practising Apparation she was tired, her limbs aching from the exertion she had expelled trying to shift her body through space and time, but the day wasn’t over yet. Rather than face another sleepless night waiting to take the next step, she had decided to brave stepping out into the world. This evening, she was going to take a sneaky look at the Black Rose.

Leander was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, that familiar glow of fire in his gaze as she stepped off the bottom step towards him. It was hard not to stare at his mouth, remembering the feel of his kiss against her skin. Nervously adjusting the clasp of her robe, she kept her chin held high, pretending she couldn’t see the worry on his face. “So, will I do? I think I will blend into the shadows enough not to be noticed.”

“You look…perfect,” he said, attempting a smile as he reached out to pull the generous hood of her cloak up over her head. “Keep this up if you wish to remain unrecognised for now.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, looking towards the fireplace where she would travel by Floo Powder to Diagon Alley’s network point. It was too far for her to Apparate there yet. She needed some more practice first before taking on longer distances.

“Don’t worry,” Leander said, rubbing her arm. “If it doesn’t feel safe, Apparate back to the Floo point and come straight back here. Are you sure you don’t want me to get an undercover Auror to accompany you?”

She could hear the tremor in his voice. He was worried for her, and it pulled on that feeling that was burrowing deeper behind her ribs. Her attachment to him had only been strengthened after sharing his bed, proven that morning when she’d had every intention of running, but being unable to leave when it came down to it. Even now, she wanted to step into the circle of his warmth and bury her face against him, feel his hands on her. Let him make her feel alive again.

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, managing a smile. “You’re the only Auror I trust, anyway.”

He held out the pot of Floo powder as she stepped onto the hearth, her pulse throbbing like a wild thing. Taking a handful, she met his eyes and nodded. “Diagon Alley!”

The rush of the air filling the space she had occupied seemed to roar in her ears as she was transported through the network, landing unsteadily on the stone platform of the Floo point near Gringotts bank. Taking a breath and getting her bearings, she moved quickly through the darkened street, avoiding the street lamps as she followed Leander’s directions into Knockturn Alley. The outside world felt huge and open, and even though she was small and cloaked in comparison, she was sure that everyone had eyes on her. It was like a strange prickling sensation on her skin. She felt too exposed, the freedom overwhelming as she walked unchecked along the path.

Keeping her head low and her hood firmly in place, MC slipped through the shadows, feeling the oppressive atmosphere of the notorious backstreet pressing down upon her. The enclosed feeling combined with the darkness made her chest squeeze with panic, the chill night air against her skin making her shiver. She tried to keep her breathing steady, her palms sweating as she reminded herself that there were no Dementors here. Feeling for the comforting shape of her wand at her hip, she continued on until the old building of the infamous pub came into view.

Keeping to the shadowed recesses, she eyed the Tudor style building. It was impossible not to notice the crooked charm of the place despite its dark reputation. As she let her gaze wander over the mullioned windows, wondering who was inside, she heard the delicate sound of female laughter. Pressing back into the darkened doorway she was in, she watched as a couple walked along the cobbled street towards the pub, her throat almost closing in a choked gasp as she recognised the blonde curls and beautiful profile of Luella Rookwood from the picture in Leander’s file. As jarring as it was to see the witch in the flesh, it was enough to make her knees almost buckle beneath her as she realised who walked beside her.

Sebastian was taller than she remembered, and definitely broader, his shoulders and arms thick and strong looking under his black coat. He strolled with the confidence she recognised from their youth, her eyes devouring the way he tilted his head when Luella spoke, the street lamp glow catching the highlights through his brunette tumble of hair. She couldn’t make out the words he spoke from where she stood, but goosebumps spread like wildfire up her arms as she caught the deep tone of his voice, memories rushing in of him speaking close to her ear in private moments shared.

Longing pierced her, robbing her breath from her lungs as she stared at him, her feet desperate to inch off the step she was hiding on and reveal herself. Her left hand curled so that her fingertips could brush up against her scar, savouring the connection that she had with the man across the street. Just one glimpse of him and it was ripping up all the emotions that she had tried to bury, feelings she had suppressed through the fear of not being able to trust him anymore. Feelings she had closed down and hidden in order to give herself to another man.

Heat bloomed across her cheeks, her body still aching and showing signs of the passion that had flared between herself and Leander, the gaping hollow in her chest swirling with a confusing blend of feelings as she watched Sebastian touch his hand to Luella’s lower back, guiding her towards the door of the pub. They looked familiar with each other, Luella’s gaze one of heated intimacy as she stepped past Sebastian and through the door.

MC pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes burning as a swift and crippling blow of pain echoed through the cavern behind her ribs. There was no denying that look Luella had given Sebastian. MC knew that look, she felt it. It was a look she had given him herself many years ago. He had moved on, found another.

Sebastian paused as he stepped up to the threshold of the pub, glancing back over his shoulder with a slight frown on his face as he scanned the shadowed pathway near where she stood. Clamping her hand tighter against her mouth, MC pressed herself even closer into the shadows, her heart pounding as she feared being seen.

It was not what she had been expecting when she laid eyes on Sebastian again, hiding from him in the dark, tears burning the backs of her eyes as she watched him escort another witch for the evening. But, what right did she have to be envious? Had she not taken a lover herself? She had gone to Leander willingly, lost herself in the throes of desire, her body eagerly responding to his.

Confused and lost, MC waited until Sebastian finally followed Luella into the pub, a slow breath leaving her body in relief that he hadn’t seen her. Her mission to stake out and get an understanding of the pub was forgotten, her head a jumbled mess as she stepped out from the doorway and hurried away. All she could think about was escaping this dark street, running from Sebastian, and running from her own messed up feelings over him. So lost in her own head, she didn’t see the man until she collided into him, stumbling backwards with a sharp gasp as strong hands reached out to hold her steady, her hood slipping back from her head.

“Woah, sorry miss,” he said, his hands firm but gentle on her upper arms. “Someone is in quite the hurry. Are you alright?”

MC blinked, her gaze lifting to meet a face she recognised from Leander’s file, but she couldn’t think of the name. He was handsome, his features rather pretty, his hair dark in this light. His smile was devastatingly charming and her own mouth curved in response without hesitation, such was the effect he had. “I’m fine,” she murmured, although she really wasn’t. She needed to get out of here.

The handsome man’s brow furrowed slightly. “Your face is familiar somehow, although I don’t believe we have met,” he said.

Panic fluttered behind her ribs, but she immediately settled her face into one of blank indifference, gently pulling herself out of his grasp. He was an Ashwinder, and she had to be cautious. “No, I don’t believe we have met before,” she said. “What’s your name?”

His eyebrows twitched with curiosity, his smile still charming but with a new, predatory gleam in his eyes. “Leo,” he said, holding out his hand towards her. “Leo Rosier.”

Recognition dawned on MC and she studied him even more closely, her interest piqued. Leander’s case notes had this rascal connected to Sebastian, his family full of criminals and dark deeds. She had even shared her prison with a couple of Rosier convicts. She glanced down at his hand, slipping hers into his grip whilst her other hand lingered near her wand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Leo,” she said slowly, switching her tone of voice to something a little softer. It didn’t go unnoticed, his smile widening.

“What’s your name?” He asked, tilting his head.

She smiled, keeping her face carefully neutral while she silently panicked inside. “You already know it,” she said cryptically, letting her fingers linger against his longer than necessary as she let her hand slip away from his grip. “After I am gone, you will probably realise who I am.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her, his gaze drifting over her face. “Do I get a clue?”

She smirked and lifted her hand, cupping it slightly so that her fingers were pointed upwards. Concentrating on the crackle and fire of her ancient magic, she channelled it towards her hand just as she had been in her daily practice. Watching for his reaction, she allowed a flicker of blue and white flame to dance at her fingertips, the glow of it lighting their faces in the darkness of the street. Allowing a few blistering seconds of magic, she then closed her hand into a fist, shutting off the flames immediately.

Rosier’s eyes widened, unable to hide the stunned disbelief from his face. “It’s you!” He gasped, stepping forward. “I knew I had seen your face before. You’re the girl with the ancient magic.”

MC immediately stepped back, wagging her finger at him. “Now, now, Mr Rosier, calm yourself. You’d be wise not to touch me,” she warned, allowing some of her magic to flare to life in her eyes. He immediately backed off, swearing under his breath.

Rather than looking scared, he looked intrigued, his gaze sweeping over her from head to foot. He chuckled and shook his head. “Bloody hell, I can see why Sallow is obsessed. Beautiful, dangerous, and wickedly powerful,” he said, a grin plastered across his pretty face.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her heart jumping into the back of her throat.

“He is going to be very pleased to see you, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out for her. MC gasped as he made a grab for her arm, twisting out of his reach at the last second. His hand caught her scarf, their momentum yanking against the silk and making her choke as it slid from her neck. She shoved against him, staggering away from him, his look of surprise and her scarf hanging from his grip the last things she saw before she squeezed her eyes shut and pictured the Floo point.

Her body flooded with adrenaline as the sharp crack of her Apparation sounded through the night, her feet stumbling for balance as she reappeared next to the Floo. Panicked gasps left her lips as she scooped up the powder with a shaky hand, her mind set on one thing, and one thing only as she stepped onto the stone plinth. She wanted Leander. She needed to see him, feel the comforting, enduring strength that he exuded. She wasn’t sure what scared her more, what just happened outside the pub, or the knee jerk reaction to flee towards her Auror.

“Shell Cottage!”

In a flash of green flames she left Diagon Alley behind, landing in the hearth of the cottage, the familiar distant roar of the sea welcoming her as she staggered into the living room. Leander was on the settee, a book in his hands, his face startled as she appeared. He was on his feet instantly, book tossed aside.

“You’re back so soon,” he said, hurrying to catch her as she lurched forwards. She crashed against him, hating how vulnerable she felt, but craving the solid feel of him. Her fingers curled into the softness of his jumper as his hand stroked her hair. “What happened?”

Nothing had happened, not really. She had barely got close to the pub, and one sighting of Sebastian had sent her head and heart spinning in all directions. Rosier had seen her, though. He knew she had been there, and no doubt he would tell Sebastian. He would know she had been there.

“Rosier saw me,” she murmured against his chest. “I panicked and ran. Maybe I wasn’t ready after all.”

The feeling of losing all control slid down her spine and made her fingers clutch even tighter into Leander’s jumper. The first piece had been moved on the board, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the next. She had to be, though.

Lifting her head from Leander’s chest, she looked up at him, blocking out everything else and focusing on the warm concern in his honey, brown eyes.

“What if I can’t do this?” She whispered. “They will send me back to Azkaban. I can’t…I can’t go back there.”

“You are not going back there,” he said, cupping her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “You can do this, and I’m going to help you. I won’t let you go back to that place.”

His forehead was leaning against hers, the heat of their mingled breaths fanning across her cheeks. After last night, she had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t let it happen again. It wasn’t fair on him. Yet, here she was, drowning in dark, honey-brown eyes, her blood firing up as it pulsed wildly through her veins. That blurred line between them was so messed up now that it didn’t take much for her to lean closer, her eyes fluttering closed as she pressed her mouth against his. Warmth, comfort, oblivion.

His lips returned the kiss, his fingers sliding into her hair, and she moaned, savouring the feel of him. Desperate for more, her hands tugged at his clothes, her robe falling to the floor forgotten. Running from the dark, running from the confused mess in her head and chest, she once again lost herself in the flame of Leander’s fire.

Sebastian

He stared at the green silk in his hands, running it over his palms and through his fingers, lifting it closer to his face to catch again the scent of lavender soap and soft perfume. “You’re sure it was her?” He asked again, his voice strained.

Rosier nodded. “Like I said, she lit a blue and white flame in her fucking hand, Sallow. Not only that, but you should have seen the look on her face when I said your name. She went as white as a sheet.”

Sebastian had made Rosier tell him over and over about his encounter out in the street, his heart hammering so fast he could hardly breathe. He had run outside, his eyes scanning the dark despite knowing that she had Disapparated right in front of Rosier. Someone had taught her how to do that, she hadn’t known before. He had promised to teach it to her, another piece of magic that he had wanted to show her how to do, the delight at seeing her learn from him now robbed along with everything else over the last four years.

Prewett probably taught her how to Apparate, the idea of it making his hands clench and his stomach twist with envy.

MC had been there, right there on the bloody street, and he hadn’t seen her. He could hex himself. He had felt an odd tingle on the back of his neck earlier, that feeling of eyes upon him as he had gone to enter the pub. He had even taken a last look around, but there had been nothing but shadows. Had she been there watching for him?

He clutched the scarf tighter in his hand, frustration making him want to scream. Everything he wanted always seemed to be just out of his reach.

“Do you think she was looking for me?” He asked.

Rosier twisted his lips, uncertain. “When I bumped into her, she was walking away from the pub, and she definitely got all skittish like a wild pony when I tried to take her arm.”

“I wonder what she was doing,” Sebastian muttered, thoughtfully. “Whatever it was, she is getting closer, Leo. We need to keep our eyes open, just in case. I need to get to her before Rookwood does, no matter what.”

“I don’t mind keeping an eye out for her, Sallow,” Rosier smirked. “I’ve got to hand it to you, mate. You’ve got impeccable taste in the ladies.”

“Eyes only, Rosier,” he warned, narrowing his gaze at his room buddy. “Keep those wandering hands to yourself.”

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Rosier chuckled as he lit a cigarette. “I know, I know. She’s all yours, mate.”

Sebastian smoothed the silk through his fingers again. He imagined it close against the skin of her neck, the warmth of her there, and sharp longing pierced through him.

All his.

As the silk slid against the scar on his hand, he thought about his conversation with Ominis, the plan for MC to spy on Rookwood and bring him down. It looked like she was already beginning to make her moves, and he needed to be ready. It was only a matter of time before she was at his side again. Where she belonged.

To be continued…

Tag list: For always being superstars @eternalremorse and @slytherin-paramour thank you! To @marketfreshfics for being such a supportive cheerleader, and for bouncing ideas around xx

@evaslytherpuff @ravenbronze @sevprince-91 @writing-intheundercroft @loving-him-was-red13

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grandeoatmilklatte · 9 days

Text

The Stratagem Strain - Part III

Plot summary: Arriving at Hogwarts for an advanced graduate program on the direct appointment of the Minister for Magic himself, Paisley Gallos anticipates a successful sixth year of classes. Unbeknownst to her, she is a pawn in a sinister ploy orchestrated long before the start of the school year.

WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence, blood and gore.

Theophilus Harlow was never fond of taking orders, despite his immaculate delivery on the follow-through. Were it anything else besides this momentous occasion, he’d employ one of the handlers at Horntail Hall to check this mess off the to-do list. His compliance was bound to Rookwood's authority and reinforced by the occasional galleon payment. Thus, albeit warily, he resolved with a trademark determination to see this task through to its conclusion.

No stranger to the grittier aspects of his line of work, this assignment would undoubtedly earn him a prominent mention on his professional dossier. The honour was not lost on Harlow; he understood the weight of the curse that churned within his gut—a responsibility he considered both a gift and a source of potent authority. Every detail of the forthcoming endeavour had been meticulously planned, and he stood poised to initiate the chain of events with unwavering resolve.

Naturally, there was a sense of accomplishment. Pride and prestige for being entrusted with setting the components in motion, toppling the first domino, privy to watch as the rest of them fell on the next in line, the forward momentum of disaster and death brought on by his move. He could watch from his vantage point at the start of everything and see the fruits of his labour sprout, bud, flower, and decay in that kingdom of the beginning of the end. The prospect made his mouth swim.

Still, the idea of whetting his whistle with swill this evening fouled his insides.

“Mudblood little bitch.”

“What was that, boss?” The Ashwinder recruit piped up, tugging his snake-emblem bandana over his mouth and nose.

Harlow let out a curt groan. “Keep an eye out. They’ll be along any moment now, and I want to get the jump on ‘em.”

The recruit fidgeted with his wand, tossing it between his palms. "And, the plan?"

“She’ll be travelling with another student,” Harlow interjected with a steely edge. “Make quick work of them, y’hear? Can't leave any witnesses.”

The Ashwinder shifted his weight uneasily, swaying back and forth like a jittery pendulum in an attempt to quash his nerves.

Harlow sighed wearily, the weight of impatience palpable. “Oh come now, don’t bloody well tell me you’re one of those soft ones. You let an Ironbelly singe your arse hairs off, but the idea of snuffing out a mopey teenager is too much?”

“They’re just kids, boss.”

Harlow threw him a loaded cannon of glare.

The Ashwinder relented, throwing his hands up. “Alright, alright! I’ll get it done.”

Harlow sniffed the air, catching a faint lick of life on the barely-there breeze. Even through the slight mist, he could discern the subtle aroma of two heartbeats, synchronized in rhythm, growing more tantalizing with each step forward that carried them closer. It was a slow build to savour, a crescendo of anticipation, waiting for the wren to perch so the fox could snap it up. The sensation thrilled Harlow to the core, matched only by his unrelenting thirst.

As footsteps scattered pebbles on the path, marring the scent of blood with upturned dirt, an involuntary growl bubbled within Harlow's throat.

“Which one are you taking, again?” The Ashwinder wielded his wand, his gaze darting toward Harlow for guidance.

Harlow pinched the brim of his bowler hat, his gaze filled with predatory intent.

“The girl. Dispose of the boy, whatever means possible.”

It wasn’t every day that Paisley found herself comparing ratios of Bertie Botts bean flavours based on package size, but Sebastian seemed intent on making it a topic of debate, no doubt to help distract her ping-ponging fears. His freckle-dusted grin broadened before he popped another unsuspecting bean in his mouth, and his complacent expression deemed it savoury. “Honestly, I think the amount of bad versus good beans depends on how the candymaker was feeling that day.”

Paisley couldn't help but emit a derisive snort. “You cannot be serious.”

“There’s a kernel of truth to it,” Sebastian argued. “I’ve been a loyal customer to Honeydukes since my first year, even had the odd treat of stopping in before that when my parents were still around.”

A twinge of discomfort knotted her insides at the underlying tension there. Instead of addressing it, plenty dredged in the difficult anxiety of the present, she deftly changed tack. “Do they change flavour varieties often?”

“Nah.” His response was a chew of sound, of gelatin lodged between teeth. “They’ve been pretty consistent since I was a child, I’m guessing far beyond that as well. But I often wonder how they decide which boxes receive more good beans than bad." A sudden spark of animation lit up his features. "I swear, there was one week when I indulged excessively, and every box I opened contained nothing but delightful flavours! It felt like striking gold. Must have been a stroke of luck from the sweets-maker himself..." “Perhaps someone warmed his bedroll.”

Sebastian nearly choked on his candy. “That’d do it-”

The paradigm shifted so abruptly, so entirely, as Paisley was snatched up before her brain could detect the threat, a blur of broad, striped waistcoat dragging her into the dense cover of the Forbidden Forest. A silencing charm swiftly cut off her shrill scream, planned and executed with chilling precision.

And before Sebastian could even react, dropping the box of sweets to retrieve his wand, he was already dodging a blasting curse from an Ashwinder.

“Paisley?” The underlying silence behind the zips and thrums of spell barrages heading his way caused Sebastian's voice to become tense mid-battle. He prioritized shield charms, suspecting, correctly, that the dark wizard would employ some more unsanctioned forms of magic. A hex narrowly skimmed his shoulderblade, passing over the arc of his shield spell, and the Slytherin countered with Confringo.

The Ashwinder was fast on his feet, tucking and rolling in the nick of time, and as he took a moment to right himself Sebastian bolted off the main path, diverting towards the Forbidden Forest, sprinting along the dirt path and past the countless signs foreboding the danger within.

Caught in Harlow's overpowering grasp, Paisley found herself ensnared, her resistance futile against the immense force. She made twisted attempts to break away, but she was entangled in his sinister hold, her flailing movements a tragicomic dance of rebellion against an unchangeable force.

As Harlow's eerie laughter echoed through the air, Paisley's heart sank as she realized how far they had travelled in what seemed like an instant. A chilling sensation enveloped her as she struggled to make sense of their inexplicable journey, of the distance traversed in moments. Her logical mind desperately sought answers, even in the face of danger.

“Your little friend is trying to find you,” He looked at her with disdain, his breath fanning heat and horror on her face. She sensed the spell that had silenced her starting to weaken, her audible grunts of resistance serving as proof, while Harlow continued chiding her. “But I doubt he’ll be so friendly once he does. Perhaps he can be your first meal…”

“What the devil are you talking about?” Still confused by his uncontrollable power over her, Paisley mumbled under her breath as she writhed in fruitless attempts to break free. It terrified her, for more reasons than one.

Harlow grinned darkly at her, then leaned in, mouth open wide, targeting her throat.

“Diffindo!”

Paisley's spell struck Harlow point-blank, the abrupt impact freeing her. She took advantage of the moment to scuttle backwards, creating distance, but the outcome of her quick wandwork was nightmare fuel in itself. The spell shredded through his shoulder cap, flaying his skin, altering his silhouette. The sight of his exposed bone, with its pale pink and white hues, was disturbing enough, let alone the flesh torn asunder to reveal the pulsating agony beneath. The dark wizard howled more in shock than pain, exhaling forcefully through his flared nostrils as he glared knives into her.

“You bitch…”

It would have been an ideal opportunity for escape then, but as Harlow composed himself, Paisley observed in startled fascination as his shoulder miraculously started to heal right before her eyes. A network of muscle fibres wove around his humerus, connecting with the sinew of bone and nerves, while a fresh layer of skin and visceral enveloped it all, similar to wrapping meat in butcher paper. The bizarre nature caught Paisley off guard, and as Harlow approached, he smirked with irritation. “Well, that pissed me off.” He lunged toward her, but she managed to evade the forward motion, relying on her agility to navigate through the thick bramble around her. She winced as the thorny branches snagged on her forearms, leaving angry, red, weeping scratches on her skin. Her sole focus was to escape from his line of sight, so she could stun or maim him further.

Harlow's head twitched, the scant scent of blood piercing the veil of focus, and a snarl-turned roar ripped from his throat. In an instant, her attention shifted behind her, fully aware that his threat dug beyond the mere barrier of simple harm. With determination, she raised her wand and unleashed another spell, this time shooting Glacius with intent.

The freezing charm struck Harlow's dominant arm, fusing his wand to his palm. With determination, he clenched his jaw as he shook off the layer of frost, raising the conduit of his dark magic to hurl a stun toward Paisley, which she promptly dodged.

Engrossed in an intense exchange of magic, the two ventured further into the Forbidden Forest, the canopy of trees growing denser, the daylight diminishing rapidly. And despite how steadfast she was in her resolve, Paisley couldn’t help but sense that fate had already predetermined the predicament. She glowered at Harlow, before dodging a disarming spell, countering with---

“Bombarda!” Sebastian nearly swung a full rotation around a tree trunk, narrowly evading the Ashwinder's attack. With wide eyes, he observed the enemy preparing to cast another spell his way. Ducking each of his limbs behind the sprawling white oak, he anticipated the impact of the spell on the tree. As the fractured bark shattered and splinters flew outwards, he seized the opportunity to unleash a torrent of Incendio toward his attacker.

“Ah!” The Ashwinder yipped, evidence that Sebastian’s spell hit paydirt. The wizard shook off the stray flames, caught on his pant leg, but it wasn't enough to hinder. “You’ll get raked for that!” He hollered, but Sebastian was already on the move, rolling down an embankment to transition to an entirely different path, intent on confusing his pursuer as he ambled upright into a full sprint again. He refrained from looking back, as the audible crunch of gravel beneath his feet served as a constant reminder of the Ashwinder's near pursuit. Projectiles of red swiftly passed by in close proximity, his erratic running pattern seemingly far from foolish for how effective it proved, and at one point he observed that he managed to dodge a stray tail of green light from a spell he had never seen before--

“Petrificus Totalis!”

Sebastian's body went stiff, his arms rigid at his sides, and he collapsed to the ground, letting out a pained groan as he felt the sting of broken skin along his forehead. The shit-eating grin of the Ashwinder evolved to a guffaw, much to Sebastian's chagrin. He approached Sebastian, panting with self-assured swagger, as if he had just proven himself by outsmarting a student. “About time you stopped trying to scurry off, little rat.”

The dark wizard nudged Sebastian’s petrified form and rolled him over, rendering him face-up. He sneered down with disdain in a sordid, pathetic demonstration of authority. “I’ve got you now…” Sebastian sensed the wane of the petrification charm, though he remained motionless, not letting a single breath escape. Drawing upon his duelling experience, he awaited the moment when the unsuspecting Ashwinder would raise his wand, providing patience over power. There would be one opportunity, no more; with the incoming Expulso spell at such proximity, the sheer force of impact alone would likely stop his heart.

Once the spell manifested, Sebastian immediately flicked his wand upwards, uttering, “Protego!”

As expected, the shield deflected the spell. It ricocheted and returned to the caster, sending the dark wizard flying backwards in a somersault through the air. His cry came to an abrupt halt as he collided with the nearby cliff face, a sickening crunch sealing his fate.

Wholly unprepared to investigate after the Ashwinder remained still for several heart-wrenching seconds, Sebastian pivoted on his heel in the direction where his newfound companion had been taken away. He hoped above all else that the last of his luck had not run up just then.

Luck was not generous to Paisley. Her competencies in magic combat were remarkable, with spellwork finessed from dedication to her craft, Still, she was not prepared to take on Harlow, deftly avoiding her spells and leaving her in frustrated awe of his dexterity. He appeared to defy the laws of physics with every blurred sidestep, and Paisley couldn't help but wonder whether he had enhancement beyond what mere mortals could achieve.

“Accio!”

Paisley was abruptly pulled airborne towards her kidnapper, who yanked her wand from her dominant hand with a grin before she hit the ground. Her struggle only amused her impromptu captor, his smirk a testament to dominance.

Harlow caught Paisley’s leg, and despite her kicks and thrashes, his inhuman strength managed to keep a hold of her, dragging her through the underbrush without cause or care for the scrapes and bruises she acquired along the way. “Let, me, go!” She grit through a clenched jaw, curling her torso upright to claw his arm, anything to get him to release her or loosen his grip, but her attempts were met with cruel indifference.

“Ah, a fighter are ye?” Harlow’s snide remark sunk in, wholly entertained as he pinned her to the dirt with an elbow pushing between her ribs, forcing the air from her lungs faster than she could welcome it in. “ That’s good, you'll need it… but for now, you’re just makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be, kid.”

His mouth opened wide, angled at her neck, his intentions clear. When the realization hit, panic surged through Paisley, her cries of terror rending the air as she pleaded for salvation, her mind racing with thoughts of escape, of rescue. Had Sebastian managed to escape from that other wizard?

In the depths of her terror, Paisley clung to a desperate hope, a fervent wish that she alone would bear the weight of the impending tragedy. It was a selfish plea amidst the chaos of her ordeal. She prayed, with every fibre of her being, that she would be the sole victim of Harlow's depravity this fateful evening. For in that moment of anguish, the alternative was too monstrous to contemplate — the thought of another soul enduring the same fate, the same agony, was a burden far too heavy at this moment. And so, amidst the turmoil that harassed her hopeless soul, she clung to that solitary hope, a fragile thread of solace in the darkness that threatened to consume her whole.

His razor-sharp incisors lacerated her jaw as he missed his mark once, twice, then thrice, still a novice to feeding on something so alive and virile.

Paisley was determined to thwart his progress, writhing and coughing through the pinch point of his arm to her chest. Harlow muttered an expletive, withdrew his wand, and prodded her chin.

“Arresto Momentum!”

Paisley was rendered immobile, and her fate was sealed.

Harlow gave no pause or reprieve, finally biting into Paisley’s throat.

Suction pulled her jugular into his mouth, and he consumed her blood, her accelerated pulse practically flushing it to him willingly, as each heartbeat became a morbid offering. Paisley's final scream rent the air as the stopping charm faded, its fruitless attempt at intervention fading into obscurity, and the darkness swallowed her gargled pleas.

At that moment, Sebastian let the echo of her howl guide the way, his heart clenched with a mixture of dread and despair. The flicker of hope that sustained him faltered, its fragile flame threatened by the relentless onslaught of despair, like the first unsuccessful attempt to blow out a candle, bending the flame to near extinguishment.

“No…” A cold dread settled over him in a suffocating shroud. Sickening certainty assured him that his intervention would come too little, too late, a bitter realization. The burden of self-doubt bore down upon him with crushing force, doubling his center of gravity until he felt liable to collapse under its oppressive weight. He couldn’t manage to keep a classmate safe on a routine trip to Hogsmeade; what good was he for even attempting to cure his sister? Paisley’s already sapped strength was being let out entirely, her heartbeats slowing, her lungs rendered dormant. But for all the pain of holding on, therein lay a tranquil acceptance of the inevitable. As her life came to a close, she felt a strange sense of peace wash over her, as if the forest itself conspired to cradle her in its embrace. In the stillness of that fateful moment, the spectre of death loomed ever closer, its gentle whispers beckoning Paisley forth with a solemn invitation, and it was an all too familiar friend in the end.

And yet, amidst the darkness, a yearning stirred within her.

Oh, how she wished she could see the stars one last time…

Before she lost consciousness, she witnessed Harlow slash his finger, inserting it into her mouth, and then spreading his blood across her tongue. Fortunately, at that point, she lost the ability to taste.

And then Paisley slipped into the very last sleep she would ever experience.

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