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Chapter Text

Beatrice wondered how she got here; pinned to the bookshelf in a dark corner of a library, with a hot-blooded boy's palm over her mouth, hissing at her to be quiet. The past few weeks had gone by in a flash and for some reason, her brain chose this moment to process everything.

Not two months ago, she was homeless, orphaned, and on the cusp of her 18th birthday with no one to celebrate. She worked 12 hour shifts at the textile factory on the east side of London, earning just enough for a spot of soup, slice of stale bread, and mug of ale at the end of the day. This was the life she had lived since her father's death 5 years prior. This was the life she had accepted as her fate, until...

It happened on a particularly hot and sticky summer evening. She had no idea how the fire started. Honestly. One moment, the factory manager was not-so-politely suggesting some under the table employment, the next he was a column of flames. She stared in horror as he stumbled around in a panic, fire spreading in his wake. It didn't take long for the entire factory floor to be engulfed in flames. The women and children pounded on the locked door, begging to be free of the heat and smoke, and then--

Well, somehow they were outside. Not just outside the factory, but two counties over in the cemetery where Beatrice’s mother was buried. All of them, every woman and child, were spared from a fiery death. The manager was the only casualty. The door was still locked from the outside.

From there, everything moved entirely too fast. Days of questioning from law officers, then from men and women in strange clothing. Then the revelation of magic, of witches and wizards. That she’s a witch. That she was being taken to a school for people like her. Flying carriage rides and dragon attacks and ancient unseen magic, and underground vaults, and goblins, and wands, and potions, and spells, and trolls, and secrets hidden in a secret book in a secret section of the Hogwarts library.

Her mind reeled until it spiraled back to the present, where she was pleasantly pinned to a dark and dusty bookshelf by her newly gained wizard friend and colleague in mischief. When he shoved her into the dark alcove, she yelped in surprise, which earned her a large hand pressed to her mouth. 

"Keep quiet," Sebastian chided in the faintest of whispers. 

From their dark corner, they watched a ghost (yes, apparently those are real as well) float eerily by and investigate the ancient vase Beatrice had bumped while sneaking past. In her defense, she had only just learned the disillusionment charm and was still getting used to not being able to see her own body. As the ghost continued her investigation, Beatrice was pressed more urgently against the shelf, and her heart responded in kind, pounding frantically against her chest, blood rushing loudly in her ears. She had never been this close to a boy before. And this was a particularly attractive, if insufferable, boy. Not that she could see him right at that moment, as he was also hidden. But she could imagine the crooked grin below dark sparkling eyes below that messy, too-long hair that curled around his ears.

And then her focus was gone. Her disillusionment faded away, but luckily, so had the ghost. Sebastian panicked, nonetheless.

"No!" he whispered, "No no no! What are you doing?" He finally stepped away from her and dropped his cover as well.

"You scared me!" Beatrice huffed, straightening her clothes and trying her best to hide her burning cheeks from his view. Thankfully he was busy checking around corners for the ghost that almost caught them.

" I scared you ?" he asked, finally turning back to face her, "The girl who knocked me flat on my arse in her first ever duel? And with a borrowed wand, no less."

"Just a bit of beginner's luck," she mumbled, not meeting his gaze. She pretended to be occupied with cleaning the dust off her robes. When the quiet between them was too much to bear, she reluctantly peeked up at him. He was leaning against a shelf, head slightly tilted, watching her in fascination. She startled at the intensity of his gaze. 

"Well, you may have bested me in that duel, but," the corner of his mouth flicked upward, "now I get to enjoy watching you squirm."

"I... wh-what... I'm not-" she stammered.

"You're a lousy sneak by the way," he pushed himself away from the shelf and wandered back to the main aisle of the library, ignoring her protests, "but I guess you can't be good at everything. That just wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us."

Insufferable . She rolled her eyes at the back of his head.

"How much further is it?" she trailed after him.

“Why? Getting tired of me already?”

“I just had no idea all this was down here,” she stopped to investigate a row of books.

“Well, it might help if you tell me what, precisely, it is we’re supposed to be looking for.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you,” she replied, abandoning her current shelf to make her way to the middle of the room. “I just have to… feel it.”

She braced her hands on the banister that protected the fall to the floors below. Peering over the edge revealed they still had about two more floors to explore. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on… what? She wasn’t sure. Some kind of force? A pull? Whatever it was she had felt back in the bank vault. Ah! There was something, but it felt different. It was more like a heated pressure closing in around her, catching her breath in her throat and prickling her skin. 

“Boo,” Sebastian’s voice breathed in her ear and she nearly toppled over the top of the banister.

“Dammit, Sebastian! You-” she lost her words as she turned to find his face just a breath away from her own. He was leaning on the banister with both hands, trapping her between his arms with a smug grin.

"I what?" he asked, amused, "Scared you?"

She drew in a quick shaking gasp. His eyes flicked, just for a moment, down to where her chest swelled before settling on her face once more. She tried to back away from the heat of his body, but any distance she created he quickly closed.

He let out a low chuckle, "You're squirming again."

She gripped the sides of her robe, not trusting what her hands might do with the Slytherin this close. 

He leaned closer still, until his lips were near her ear once more. 

"Almost there..."

"Hmm?" she hummed.

A cool wave washed over her as he finally stepped away, making his way toward the descending stairs.

"We're almost to the last floor," he clarified. "I'm willing to bet a shiny sickle that whatever mysterious book you're looking for is down on the last floor, in the deepest part of the library."

She stood frozen in place, still recovering from... whatever had just happened between them.

"Well, are you coming or not?" he asked impatiently.

"You have the patience of a spoiled cat," she tried to tease, but her voice came out shaky and uneven. 

"Only if it's you that's spoiling me," he countered. She could feel his eyes on her as she took the lead down the stairs.

"Sebastian, if you want me, just take me already," she hadn't meant to let that slip out.

Even he seemed surprised by her sudden forwardness, "And who says I want you? That's awfully presumptuous of you, Miss Bell," he narrowed his eyes and stepped around her. "It's like I said. I just love to watch you squirm."

With a flourish of his robe, he was off, heading down the last set of stairs.

~~~~

Merlin, help me . Sebastian loosened his tie and unfastened the top button of his shirt to give himself room to breathe. He hadn't expected that to come out of her, didn't know she had it in her. He knew there was something there, a fierceness buried deep inside. He had seen it in their duel, and when they fought that troll together at Hogsmeade. That raw and feral flame that she tried to keep hidden is what drew him to her in the first place. She tried so hard to tuck it away, out of sight, beneath her polite smile, her perfectly pressed robes, and her textbook wandwork. But he witnessed it, the instinctual way she ripped that troll to oblivion. He saw that thread of her power and now he wanted to grasp it, wrap it around his knuckles, pull it and watch her unravel before him.

Take me, her voice echoed in his head. It sounded more like a challenge than a flirtation. And he had half a mind to meet that challenge, to drag her into a darkened corner and ravish her until her body was as corrupted as he hoped her magic would soon be.

He raked a hand through his hair at the thought. Would she finally open up and show him that feral flame that he knew smoldered somewhere within her, or would she still try to hide it? Would she make him coax it out of her? Would she make him work for it? The idea thrilled him to his core.

He became so lost in that thought that he didn't see the loudly dressed apparition before it was too late.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Sebastian and Beatrice both nearly jumped out of their skin.

"Peeves!" Sebastian grumbled.

"Naughty naughty! You'll get caughty!" the poltergeist sang.

"Peeves, please! Please! Just this once don't-" but it was too late. 

The ghost swan-dived through the ceiling, laughing maniacally through the floors above, “I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell!”

"Blasted poltergeist!" Sebastian cursed, "I have to go stop him before he gets to Scribner." 

"I'll come with you," Beatrice replied, already heading toward the stairs.

" Hold on , now,” he nabbed the sleeve of her robe, grinning at her eagerness, “I can cover for us. You need to find your book. Besides, she'll take one look at me with my delinquent history, then at you and your whole thing," he waved his hands vaguely in her direction, "and I'll get double detention for dragging you down with me." 

Beatrice made a sour face and crossed her arms, "My whole thing ?" 

"Yeah, you know, the innocent-bookish-Ravenclaw-girl-who's-just-here-to-learn thing."

"Ah, I see. I didn't realize I was doing a thing. I'll remember that next time we're faced with a troll and just let you take care of it while I run off with my books."

Merlin's beard, was she angry. As much as he enjoyed seeing her feisty side he didn’t want to push her away completely.

"No, Beatrice, I didn't… I only meant-" a loud crash from upstairs made them both flinch. Peeves was obviously making a mess to draw Scribner's attention. "I really should go before he makes things too much worse." 

Sebastian turned to head up the stairs, but paused to take one last glance at Beatrice before leaving. Who is she when she thinks no one is watching? He wondered. 

He must have stared for too long. She threw him a dangerous look over her shoulder and he nearly missed a step.

“Now look who’s squirming,” she said with just a hint of a smirk.

~~~

The next morning, Beatrice was definitely feeling the battle she endured against the stone statues that protected the pensive. Luckily, the wiggenweld potion she had learned to brew helped get rid of the obvious bruising and swelling. But her body still ached down to the bone. 

It was worth it, though, for the insights she gained from the pensive. There were others who could see ancient magic just like she could, and those who could wield it. She couldn’t wait to tell Professor Fig and… 

The thought of telling Sebastian about what she found made her pause. While she owed him for getting her into the restricted section, and for not ratting her out to Scribner, she couldn’t help but feel there was an intensity about him that made her nervous. When she told him about her pre-Hogwarts trip to the vault and her limited experience with ancient magic, she could see something dark bloom behind his eyes. What would happen if he learned that this magic could actually be used . That she might be able to use it.

However, another part of her argued, perhaps Sebastian’s eagerness for this magic stemmed from his desire to help his sister. In the week they’d spent together, Sebastian had never given Beatrice any reason not to trust him. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to show her how trustworthy he really was. He had even been emotionally vulnerable with her, disclosing the trauma his sister endured and continued to suffer from. He seemed willing to help, and she was in no position to turn that down. So, it was decided; She would continue to put her faith in him, even if his looks sometimes sent a shiver down her spine. 

Like the look he wore as he watched her enter the great hall for breakfast. Searching, expectant, with just the hint of a smile. She tried her best to walk normally, but her bones creaked with every step toward the Ravenclaw table. 

“Beatrice!” Sebastian bellowed out above the noise of breakfast chatter. He motioned for her to join him at the green-bannered table and she reluctantly complied. 

“Is this allowed?” she asked, peering at the others around them.

“Ah! A Ravenclaw, through and through,” he replied, with a laugh. When she still hesitated, he sat up a bit straighter, “Sit, please. If anyone has a problem with it they can take it up with us. Right, Ominis?”

His friend absently hummed in agreement. He was otherwise occupied, tracing his fingers over the pages of the book he was reading.

Beatrice winced in pain as she lowered herself on the bench opposite Sebastian.

“ Merlin , what happened to you?” he wore a look more akin to wonder than concern. Then a devilish grin appeared on his lips. “Did our midnight romp in the library leave you weak in the knees?”

At that, Imelda Reyes, who was sitting next to Sebastian but pretending not to listen, spit out her mouthful of juice.

“Hah! Caught you, Imelda, you filthy nosy niffler,” Sebastian gave her a light shove on the shoulder. “Go eavesdrop somewhere else.”

She scowled at him before running off to the bathroom, presumably to clean off her robes.

“You can’t trust that one,” he informed Beatrice, “The biggest gossip in Slytherin house.”

“The library?” Ominis was suddenly interested in the conversation. “Is that where you snuck off last night? What were you two doing there ?” There was a suspicious edge to his voice.

Sebastian gently nudged her foot under the table and gave her a quick short shake of his head.

He wants to lie to his friend. Why? She wondered. Perhaps she was too quick to put her faith in him. What was he hiding?

She started piling food on her plate in hopes that it would distract Ominis from the waver in her voice. She knew she was really no good at lying. 

“I just feel so behind, starting here in my 7th year and all. There’s so much I need to catch up on and not enough hours in the day.” She chomped on a pastry nervously.

“Hmm,” Ominis appraised her story, “Well, what titles did you find? I may have some old textbooks lying about.” He was too kind, Beatrice felt horrible lying to him.

She shoved more pastry in her mouth and desperately glanced at Sebastian for help. She really, really wasn’t good at this.

“That damned poltergeist got to us before we found anything she could use,” Sebastian saved her, “Hence why I have detention with Scribner tonight.”

“I really am sorry,” Beatrice mumbled with croissant still shoved in her cheek.

“No need to apologize. Besides, I like having friends in my debt,” he gave her a suggestive smile, “Which reminds me… how do you plan to return the favor?”

The meaning behind his words hit Beatrice right as she swallowed the last bit of her pastry and she made a gasping choking sound. She gripped the edge of the table trying to catch her breath.

“Mmm hmm, I think that would suffice,” he purred.

“Really, Sebastian?” his friend scolded, “Some of us are trying to eat.” Ominis turned his attention to Beatrice, “Pay him no mind. He pretends to be a Casanova but really he-”

“A duel,” she said quickly. That got Sebastian’s attention. His seductive smirk remained in place, but that familiar darkness bloomed behind his eyes.

“I’m listening,” he replied.

“Crossed Wands has a duel set up for tomorrow. I’ll be your partner.”

“And how, exactly, does that return my favor?”

“Well, you want to make it to the top, right? Be crowned champion?”

“Of course.”

“I can help with that.”

“Can you?” he arched an eyebrow at her

“Yes.”

“And who says I need your help?”

“Am I or am I not the one who knocked you on your arse in my first duel, with a borrowed wand, no less?” she echoed his words from the previous night.

“Well, well! Where have you been hiding this confidence? Whatever happened to my ‘beginner’s luck’ girl?”

“Do we have a deal?” she asked, ignoring the way his last comment made her heart flutter.

“Deal,” he replied and extended a hand across the table.

Beatrice stood and took his hand, giving it a single hard shake. But he didn’t let go. With a gentle pull, he brought the two of them face to face above the table.

“On one condition,” he said lowly. “Meet me at the circle of stones tonight after I’m done with Scribner. Six o’clock.”

She nodded in agreement, swallowing the knot in her throat.

Chapter Text

As he left the castle, Sebastian rubbed at the sore joints in his fingers and wrists. Scribner had doled out her usual punishment of shelving in the library, even though there were charms in place to help the books find a way back to the shelf on their own. The librarian insisted that shelving taught students to respect the hard work that goes into maintaining the important collection. All it taught Sebastian was how to efficiently find what he needed whenever he snuck in after dark. He had an inkling that the pain that persisted from hours of shelving heavy tomes was likely the real punishment, but Scribner would never admit to that. 

Darkness was starting to fall earlier each night. The sun was in the beginning stages of setting as he marched across the bridge to the Sundial Garden. The wind had picked up, blowing in thick, dangerous clouds that changed color in the shifting sunlight. Sebastian slowed his steps when Beatrice came into his line of sight. She was leaning against one of the giant stones, eyes closed and face to the wind. The usual perfect bun she wore had been picked apart by the blustery weather. An intricate looking broom that he didn’t know she had was propped next to her and… 

Was she wearing breeches? It was a non-productive day, and no classes meant that uniforms weren’t required, but most students wore it anyway out of habit or laziness or lack of other options, himself included. Apparently, Beatrice hadn’t caught on to that bit of Hogwarts culture yet. He blinked a few times, thinking his mind must be playing tricks on him. But she was still there in black riding breeches, the fabric tight on the curve of her thighs, tucked into a pair of tall brown boots. The way they were cut perfectly displayed the shape of her-

Focus, Sebastian, he cursed at himself as he resumed his usual pace.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” he greeted Beatrice, pulling her out of whatever blissful thoughts swam behind those closed eyes.

“Hello Sebastian,” she stood up straight and folded her hands in front of her. Her perfect student posture, as if she already knew why he asked her here.

“I haven’t kept you waiting too long, I hope?” he asked, sincerely. “I know the evenings are starting to grow colder.”

“Not at all!” she said with a light, bubbly laugh. “I find it invigorating. In fact, I’ve just come back from some practice on my broom.” Now her glowing delight made sense.

“I suppose that explains your…” Sebastian made a show of sliding his gaze down to her feet then back to her face, “ensemble?”

“Oh, yes,” she started fidgeting under his inspection, “It’s unconventional, I know. But it’s much easier to ride in this than in skirts and robes. Warmer too. I ended up practicing longer than I anticipated, so I didn’t have time to go change. But… erm… surely you didn’t ask me to meet you here to discuss my fashion preferences?” 

“Right, of course,” he cleared his throat. “On to business.”

Beatrice stood a little straighter, giving him her undivided attention like a good little student. Sebastian had to admit, he loved the way she so easily took his instruction. It tugged at something dark within him.

“If you’re going to be my partner for Crossed Wands,” he started walking to the center point between the stones and Beatrice followed, “then we must do something about your wand work.”

“ What?! ” she blurted out. “My wand work is perfect. All of the professors say so.”

“That’s precisely the problem,” Sebastian said, pulling out his own wand. “It’s too perfect. You rely entirely too much on textbooks and classes and professors.”

She furrowed her brow at him in confusion.

“Magic isn’t exactly the same for everyone,” he explained. “Our bodies are different. Our minds are different. Even each of our wands are unique.” 

He held up his wand and nodded at Beatrice to do the same. His was straight, rigid, made of light colored wood, while hers was dark, twisted to a sharp point, almost vine-like.

“We could trade wands and they would work, but it just wouldn’t feel right. You should know this better than anyone else. After working with a borrowed wand, getting your own-”

“Felt like breathing for the first time,” she finished.

“Exactly. Every wand is different because every practitioner’s magic is different. So, why should our wandwork be exactly the same?”

She nodded at him, processing his words.

“So, let’s get started.” He moved behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders and directed her at one of the large stones, “Show me Incendio. ”

Beatrice took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders and lifted her wand arm, “ Incendio. ”

A ball of flames shot from her wand, powerful, but Sebastian knew she could do much more. She was still too stiff, her movements too sharp to capture the needed bravado of the fiery spell.

“Not bad,” he said, approaching her from behind again. “But you’re focusing too much on your wrist, on the shape of the spell itself.” He ran his hand across her upper back, tracing the line of her shoulder blade with his thumb, “Imagine the spell starting here, then traveling down through your wrist.” He mimicked the path of the hypothetical magic with a light touch. His other hand snaked around her waist to press against her diaphragm, “And the incantation should come from here. Fire magic is big magic, it requires you to put your whole body behind it.” 

He stepped away, and she exhaled loudly. It was only then that he realized she had been holding her breath. 

He smiled at the back of her head, “Alright, give it another go.”

She waved her arm in a large graceful movement, “ Incendio! ” But only a few embers sparked from her wand. She turned and gave Sebastian a sheepish look. He laughed into the back of his hand, trying his best to hide it.

“Well, that’s the energy I was looking for but… you do actually have to make the right movement.”

She huffed at him and her face set in a look of determination before turning back toward the stones. That’s it, what he had been looking for, waiting for. The fighter.

“ Incendio! ”

Sebastian had to take several steps back to avoid getting singed by the ring of fire that exploded around her. 

“Yes!” he shouted, running back to her, “That was brilliant! How did it feel?”

“It felt…” her eyes danced about the space in front of her, not really seeing, “strangely familiar.”

“How so?” Sebastian pressed.

“It’s nothing,” she shook her head, “Nevermind.”

He wanted to know what was behind that thought, but he’d just have to bother her about it later. They had a lesson to continue, and the sky was starting to grow gray and dark.

“Okay then,” he stepped closer to push a loose strand of hair away from her eyes. “How would you feel about trying something a bit more… illicit?”  

“Wh-what?” she suddenly got very still.

“Surely an intelligent Ravenclaw such as yourself would be interested in learning a bit of forbidden magic?”

“Forbidden?” Panic flashed in her eyes, “You don’t mean dark magic?”

“No! Of course not!” Not yet. “I’m talking about Confringo. The blasting curse.”

“I’m not sure. That sounds awfully dangerous.”

“Oh, it is. But that’s precisely why we should learn it. Professors try to protect us from spells like this. They say it’s too dangerous. But they’re wrong. There is no magic that’s too dangerous to learn. The idea of good magic and bad magic does nothing but limit us. Don’t you agree?”

“I… I’m not sure,” she responded after a beat, chewing on her lower lip. “I suppose that makes sense. If it’s just about learning.”

“So, you’d like to learn the blasting curse then?” He asked, walking a tight circle around her.

“Yes,” she said, this time without hesitation. Her eagerness fed the darkness that pooled in his chest. As he rounded her from behind, he placed his hands on her shoulders. 

“That’s my girl,” he rasped against the nape of her neck.

Beatrice picked up the new spell quicker than he anticipated. She really did have a natural instinct for magic. Structured classes and controlling professors only dampened the power that she could actually have. Some paranoid part of Sebastian believed that they were doing this to her on purpose, holding her back. There must be something about her that terrified them. That only drew him to her more.

Once she was comfortable with Confringo, Sebastian pushed her to do one more exercise with him. He wanted to see Beatrice get into the flow of a fight, like he had seen when they took down that troll. When she took down that troll. There was something captivating about the way she seemed to be able to throw spells without thinking. He needed to see it again, preferably while not being pulverized by a hulking brute, so he could really observe her, feel her.

He shouted out spell combinations for her to perform in rapid succession. She followed his direction beautifully, her wandwork loosening up, relying on instinct rather than lessons. Soon, even after he stopped giving commands, she continued to cast her own combinations. Her face was hardened in concentration, but her body moved fluidly. She began casting at multiple stones as if she were fighting off an arena of enemies. 

“ Incendio! Confringo! Diffindo! ” she shouted, and then Sebastian had to duck as an abandoned wooden crate flew over his head. With a flourishing spin, Beatrice launched the crate at one of the stones. 

“That!” Sebastian shouted, trying to get her attention, “What you just did! What was that?”

She turned toward him, face glistening with sweat, “I’m not sure,” she said between heavy breaths. “It just happens sometimes.”

“You did that to the troll at Hogsmeade.”

“I know, I remember, but I really don’t know how it happens. It’s like, I get so full of energy that it just bursts out of me.”

“Is that how you eviscerated the troll too?” he asked, trying not to sound too urgent.

She eyed him wearily, “I think so, yes.” She seemed hesitant.

“Do you think you could do it again?” He slowly turned her back toward the stones.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can control it.”

“Try,” he said, giving her arms a squeeze.

“Sebastian…” she warned.

“Please?” He brought his lips closer to her ear, “Just try? For me?”

She peeked at him over her shoulder and gave a quick nod before resuming her dueling stance. After a good round of spell combinations, she hurled a heavy kneazle-sized rock at the stones before her with a deafening bang. 

“That was brilliant, Beatrice!” Sebastian shouted from his safe distance. “Try again!”

She was already waving her wand in preparation, anticipation. He could almost feel the electricity in the air as she cast spell after spell after spell. It was as if she had become pure magic. She wasn’t just using magic, she was made of it. It was a sight to behold.

Her posture suddenly changed as she brought her wand high over her head where it sparked bright blue. Then in one dramatic movement, she swung her arm back down, bringing an explosive bolt of blue lighting with it, cracking one of the ancient stones clean in half. As if on cue, the heavy clouds above opened up and dumped sheets of icy rain on them.

Sebastain cheered as he ran back to meet Beatrice at the center of the stones. He nearly knocked her off her feet as he collided with her, wrapping his arms around her waist to lift her up in celebration. 

“ Merlin’s beard ! Beatrice! That was amazing!” He took her hands in his, hoping to experience any residual magic that crackled through her. “That was you, I could feel it!”

She blinked at him through the rain and a smile crept to her face. He could have kissed her right then and there, breathed her in, inhaled her aura of power. But right as the thought crossed his mind, she pushed away from him to twirl giddily in the rain, face to the clouds. He wondered what it felt like to be so drunk on magic.

The rainfall started to come down harder and thicker around them. Sebastian had to shout over the noise of it to get Beatrice’s attention.

“We should get inside,” he circled a hand around the crook of her elbow, but she stayed planted in place.

“One more thing!” she shouted back. “ Reparo! ” With a flourish of her wand, the crack in the giant stone sealed itself until it was whole again.

“Alright, alright,” Sebastian teased, tugging her arm again, “that’s enough showing off. Let’s go!”

~~~

She allowed herself to be dragged along back up to the castle, laughing and smiling the whole way. She could still feel the magic rush through her veins with a lovely tingle, her body so light she felt like she might blow away in the storm. When they pushed through the heavy doors, they paused to catch their breath, their clothes dripping relentlessly on the marble floor. 

“I should head up and change,” Beatrice said, motioning in the general direction of her common room.

“Are you mad?” Sebastian replied. “All the way up to the Ravenclaw tower? You’ll catch pneumonia before you make it halfway up those stairs. I honestly have no idea how you Ravenclaws put up with it.”

“Well, what, am I meant to just stand here and drip all night?” She was starting to shiver in her soggy clothes.

“No,” he paused, lost in thought for a moment. “I know a place we can go,” and with that, he had her by the arm again, leading her quickly through the castle until they were in the Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor staring at a large, ornate clock.

Sebastian turned to her, “Before we go in, I must have you swear you’ll never mention this place to anyone.”

“Of course,” she replied earnestly. “You can trust me.

He nodded, more to himself than to her, and with the flick of his wand, the hands on the clock sprung to life, unlocking a hidden door. 

“Welcome to the Undercroft,” he said with a proud smile, ushering her inside.

Beatrice imagined something a bit more… grand? But the room on the other side of the intricate clock door was simple and bare, more like a storage room than a secret Slytherin hideout. Old abandoned furniture was stacked in the corners, large statues and frames leaned against the stone walls, covered in dusty white drop cloths. But Sebastian seemed proud of this room, so there must be something to it.

“Ominis told Anne and me about this place years ago,” he said, lighting braziers and chandeliers to brighten and warm the room. “Apparently it’s some Gaunt family secret. Which is why I’m trusting you to not say anything about it to anyone,” he suddenly turned to her, a serious look on his face. “Even Ominis. You cannot tell him that I brought you here. I swore to him I would keep it secret. Do you understand?”

She swallowed thickly, not enjoying the idea of keeping more secrets from his friend. “I understand,” she said, finally.

“Good,” his face softened. He turned on his heels and made his way to a large trunk near the back of the room. “We used to spend so much time here that we’d lose track of the hours. Sometimes we’d stay overnight rather than risk the after-hours trek back to our common room. So, we took to keeping an extra change of clothes here.” 

His tone was lighter than Beatrice had ever heard it before. Reminiscing about Anne and Ominis brought out a whole different side of him. There was an actual smile in his voice.

“For you,” he said, pushing a pile of dry clothes into her arms. A Slytherin uniform.

“No peeking,” she said playfully as she brushed past him.

“And the same goes for you,” he countered. “Don’t think I can’t see the lecherous thoughts behind that innocent face.”

She scoffed at him, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean!”

“I’m sure you don’t,” he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes at him in exasperation before ducking behind a stack of old barrels, tall enough to hide most of her, but not completely.

~~~

They began changing in silence. The only sound that hung in the air was the unfastening of clasps, buckles, and buttons, the rustle of fabric. Occasionally, Beatrice let out a soft sigh at the relief of being rid of the cold wet clothing. He didn’t mean to look, he really didn’t. The sound of something heavy dropping, her boot maybe, made him turn and he caught a glimpse of her bare back and shoulders. She had let her hair out of its bun and it hung in wet clumps, clinging to her skin. Droplets of water slowly journeyed down... He turned back quickly and focused on steadying his breathing as he peeled off his damp shirt. 

Halfway though changing into fresh dry clothes, Sebastian noticed it was too quiet on the other side of the room. Dare he look again? What might delight his gaze this time? He turned his head slightly to peer over his shoulder, and his eyes locked right on Beatrice’s. She jumped and pretended to tend to her bundle of clothes. 

“I thought we said no peeking?” he accused with a grin

“I could say the same for you,” she responded, but without much confidence.

He strolled toward her, fastening the last of his buttons, shirt still untucked. Beatrice emerged from behind her barrel partition with her pile of wet clothes and dumped them unceremoniously at his feet. The sight of her standing there in nothing but his green and gray striped jumper made a heat rise to his chest. It was too big for her, of course. The sleeves hung past her knuckles, the hem riding along the middle of her thighs. Merlin , she looked good in green. It was a crime that she wasn’t sorted into Slytherin.

“There must be some spell or a charm to dry clothes,” she said with a huff. “I can’t believe there are spells to instantly repair destroyed buildings but we haven’t figured out how to dry laundry.”

“Oh, there is one,” he replied, nonchalantly. She gaped at him as he waved his wand at the damp pile of clothes. “ Exaresco. ”

“Why didn’t we just do that in the first place?”

“Well, unless you’d like to be a dried out husk right now, I needed the clothes off your body.” His words made her breath hitch ever so slightly, so he decided to push her a little bit more. “Besides,” he continued, stepping closer, “maybe I just wanted to get you undressed.”

She stared at him for a moment, lips parted, eyes large as saucers. She blinked a few times then squared her shoulders.

“I’ve said it once, Sebastian, I’m not going to say it again.” 

“You said what?” he challenged, unable to stop the smirk rising to his lips.

“In the library… you… you know what I’m talking about,” she finished, waving a dismissive hand. 

He caught her by the wrist, gently, rubbing his thumb along her pulse point. “Remind me,” he pressed. He didn’t need a reminder. Her words echoed in his mind nonstop since she uttered them that night. But he needed to hear her say it again. 

“If you want me, Sebastian,” she said slowly, “then take me.”

He slid a hand to the small of her back and pressed her closer. “Again,” he demanded.

“Take me,” she complied, softer this time, melting into him.

He released her wrist to run his fingers through her hair, gripping her by the back of the neck, “Again.”

“ Take me, ” she was on her toes, trying to reach his mouth with her own. She let out a needy sigh, “ Please. ” It took every ounce of strength not to devour her on the spot. 

He traced a line down her jaw and lifted her chin, pausing to rub his thumb over her lips, drawing them slightly apart. Finally, he brought his lips to hers, softly, just enough to get the slightest taste. He nudged her nose with his, playfully, then kissed her again, just as tenderly as before. He intended to leave it at that, to step away, allow her to change back into her dry clothes, and part ways for the night. But then…

“ Sebastian, ” she sighed. How he loved the way his name sounded on her lips. The consonants crisp, every syllable rolling deliciously off her tongue, like she was reciting an incantation. And perhaps it was, because the instant she whispered it something inside him snapped.

With a quick pivot, he had her pinned against a stone pillar. His mouth was on hers again, hot and insistent, before she could even catch her breath.  Her hands balled into fists around the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer despite their already impossible closeness. When he dragged his tongue along the seam of her lips, she readily parted them, inviting his exploration. He could taste the residual magic on her, sharp and cold, but blindingly hot at the same time. It was dizzying, intoxicating, and he needed more. His hands were frantic, moving from her face to her waist to her hips, desperately mapping every curve in his bruising grip. 

His mouth found its way to the soft waiting flesh of her neck. She eagerly tilted her head to give him more room to plant hot open-mouthed kisses. As he gently bit a bruise into her perfect skin, her fingers tangled in his hair. She was panting now, hot breath and wanting sighs against his ear.

She continued her breathy incantation of his name, sending him spiraling further into madness. He had to take her mouth with his again to silence her, but that only made him feel her moans with every part of his body. And, oh, her hips were moving against his. How long had she been seeking that friction? How long had he been denying it to her? His fingers moved to flirt with the line where the hem of her borrowed jumper grazed her thigh. He imagined tracing a line up, touching her where he knew she needed it, feeling her arousal on his fingertips, teasing her and watching her fall apart around him. She lifted her leg and curved it around his hip, giving him mewls of encouragement. The sound of her desperation for his touch tugged at something deep in the pit of his chest. She started working blindly at the buttons of his shirt, her fingers surprisingly quick and nimble. 

He wanted this, wanted her, ever since he witnessed her incredible power. He hadn’t accounted for her actually wanting him in return. Sure, he’d thought about it, fantasized, had too many lascivious dreams about the two of them together and the pretty noises he could draw from her. But now that he actually had her here, writhing beneath him, it became extremely real. The flame he saw within her was still small and fragile. He worried that if he got too close he’d smother it, extinguish it completely. He needed to keep his distance, keep her on edge, on her toes. He needed to keep fanning that flame until it consumed her and him with it.

Ah, there's an idea.

He felt her fingers dip shallowly into the waistband of his slacks.
“ Ahhh ah, Beatrice,” his voice was still much too heavy with lust. It only encouraged her to pull his hips closer and latch onto his neck. “Beatrice… mhhh… slow down.”

She finally pulled herself away from him, eyes hazy, lips swollen and hair disheveled. She looked so good like this. No, focus. He took both her hands between his and stepped back.

“You have no idea how much I want this, have wanted this. But it’s not a good idea,” he said plainly.

“What?” she replied, breathlessly soft.

“You’re a good friend, Beatrice. We make a good team. I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of that.”

“A good… friend?” she chewed on the thought. He could see the gears working behind her eyes and then a wave of sobriety washed over her. “Of course,” she said, shaking her head. “Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

No! He wanted to scream at her, shake her. Fight! Fight me! Fight for me! Fight for what you want! That’s when he knew he’d made the right decision. It was too soon. He still had a lot of work to do on her.

~~~

Beatrice quickly pulled her riding breeches back on, gathered up the rest of her clothes and her boots, and padded out of the Undercroft in her bare feet. She couldn’t stand the awkward silence. God, she was so embarrassed. The first attractive boy to give her attention and she throws herself at him like a desperate harlot. No, another part of her, the rational part of her, said. It’s only natural that they were drawn together. They both experienced life changing trauma; him with his twin sister’s curse, her with her narrow escape from a fiery death. They’ve both been plunged into new and unfamiliar lives, so of course they would seek out some sort of comfort from each other. Even if that comfort came in the form of biting kisses and bruising touches and–

“Sebastian?” a posh voice called out from the dark as she pushed her way through the secret door. “Is that you?”

“Ominis!” Beatrice sqeaked in a panic. She scrambled uselessly as the clothes tumbled from her arms.

“Who’s there?” he demanded. He lifted his wand, searching the corridor with the red pulse it emitted.

“It’s me. It’s Beatrice,” she corrected, knowing he likely wasn’t familiar enough with her to recognize her voice. “I think we have herbology and potions together.” It was a desperate attempt to avoid the elephant in the room, and Ominis didn’t fall for it.

“Did you just come from the Undercroft?” His voice was cold and hard as steel. “How? Sebastian showed you, didn’t he? That rat!”

“No!” Beatrice replied too quickly. “I stumbled upon the room while exploring. What did you call it? The Undercroft?”

“Don't lie to me. No one ‘stumbles’ upon that room,” he moved his wand closer to her. “And you’re clearly wearing Sebastian’s jumper. I may be blind but I’m not oblivious. You'd do well to remember that.” 

Dammit. This was not going well at all. This is why she hated lying.

"Okay, yes, you're right," she finally gave in, moving to collect the articles she dropped.  "Sebastian brought me here, but only because we got rained on and needed a quick change of clothes. He told me how important this place is to you. I promised to keep it secret. Please, trust me."

"Why should I trust you? You've done nothing but lie to me since we met. I know there is something more about your after hours trip to the library." He moved past her to face the clock, readying his wand to charm it open. "He’s plotting something with you, and maybe you don’t even know it yet," Ominis continued, softer now. "I'm worried about him lately. He's not been the same since Anne's accident. You… you should be careful with Sebastian."

Beatrice let out a bitter laugh at that. “Right. Thank you Ominis. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What is it?” He caught the edge in her voice. When he turned to her again his face was plastered with rage, “He’s done something already hasn’t he?! Did he hurt you?”

“No, it’s nothing. I’m fine, really. I just…” she hugged her bundle of clothes tighter to her chest. “I should go.”

“Beatrice,” he called after her, “Remember, you so much as breathe a word of this place and I’ll have you kicked out of Hogwarts so fast that not even Professor Fig will be able to save you.”

What was with these Slytherin boys? Ominis had just looked murderous at the thought of her being hurt, then threatened to ruin her academic career. And then there was Sebastian, the inscessent flirt who suddenly wanted to just be friends. Their inconsistency was maddening.

“Do I make myself clear?” he asked, still waiting for some kind of response.

She let out a heavy sigh, “Yes, of course, Ominis. Clear as crystal.” She hadn’t meant for it to come out quite so sarcastic, but she was tired in every way imaginable and still had quite a trek back up to the Ravenclaw tower.

The corridor remained silent, but she could feel the faint pulse of Ominis’ wand on her as she walked away.

~~~

Shortly after Beatrice left the Undercroft Sebastian heard the clock spring back to life. She’s come back! Excitement rushed through him at the thought of her storming in and demanding he give her what she wants. To see that flame of hers, he’d gladly give her whatever she asked.

“Beatrice! You–”

“Hello, Sebastian,” Ominis greeted him coolly.

“ Shit ,” Sebastian cursed under his breath.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” His voice was calm and even, but Sebastian knew that’s when Ominis was at his angriest. Like the thin icy surface above a raging river.

“You swore , Sebastian. You promised me you’d keep this place a secret,” now his voice started to waver, the ice cracking. “You know how much this place means to us, the three of us. You and me and Anne.”

Sebastian felt his jaw tighten at the mention of his sister’s name from a friend who seemed to want to do nothing to help her. He knew it wasn’t fair to be angry with Ominis. He wasn’t to blame. But why, why , was he doing nothing to help? If he cared about Anne so much, why was he making Sebastian go through this all alone. He had knowledge, family knowledge, that could help, but he refused to share it.

“You know me, Ominis. I always keep my word, but–”

“Then why did I just run into the new Ravenclaw girl leaving through that door?”

“I hadn’t planned on bringing her here, believe me. But we were drenched from the storm. If you had been there, seen her shivering in wet clothes and ready to slog it all the way up to Ravenclaw tower in that state, you would have brought her here too.”

That seemed to calm Ominis down. The truth always did. Anyway, he never could stay mad at Sebastian for too long. 

“I taught you the drying charm two years ago. Have you forgotten it already?”

“No, I remember,” he replied, plopping down one of the old drop cloth-covered couches, “but I’ve never used it on anything other than laundry. I didn’t trust myself not to dry her out completely too.”

Ominis processed his words for a moment before his expression melted into a look of disappointment, “Oh, Sebastian! You didn’t… You had her undress? Here? With you?”

“We gave each other privacy,” he clarified, defensively. “I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

“Something about the way she left tells me that you weren’t, in fact, a gentleman,” his friend countered.

“Well, she started it.” It was only a half truth. He definitely nudged her.

“Don’t be a child. Apologize to her.”

“But–”

“Apologize,” Ominis insisted.

“I’m not sure if she’s going to want to face me again. Not for a while, at least.”

“Then send her an owl. Do something. We could really use another friend. Me, especially. I can’t handle you on my own, you’re exhausting,” he said with a smile.

Sebastian chuckled in response, glad the air had been cleared. 

“So you know, she did try to lie for you. She’s a terrible liar, but she tried,” Ominis said as an aside, but Sebastian latched on to that knowledge, a wicked grin growing inside him.

Chapter Text

It was dark and quiet by the time Beatrice finally left the library after a long study session. Most of the other students had cleared out, except the few that were dozing off at desks littered with piles of books and parchment. It wasn't yet curfew, but close enough that the halls were empty and lifeless. Beatrice stretched and started making the long journey up to Ravenclaw tower. She paused for a moment, unsure of where she was. The statues and tapestries looked entirely unfamiliar. She was still always getting lost, turned around in the labyrinth that was the castle. With a sigh, she pulled out her guidebook and tried her best to find her location on the map it provided. 

The sound of footsteps made her turn. 

"Sebastian! I'm so glad you're here," she said. Her voice echoed eerily through the silence. "I think I'm– mph– "

She felt her back hit a wall and she blinked into the inky black surrounding her. After her eyes adjusted, she realized she had been dragged into the darkness behind a large statue. Sebastian loomed above her, trapping her against the wall. He eyed her mischievously, and pushed the point of his wand to her throat. She lifted her chin to escape the pressure, but he only pressed further. A sharp gasp rattled through her.

"I could do it," he whispered in her ear. "I could bend you to my will. Break you. Make you mine."

Her heart thundered in her ears.

"But I don't have to, do I?" He continued. His hand replaced his wand, fingers wrapping gently around beneath her jaw, just tight enough to keep her in his control. "You're already mine." His thumb moved over her lips, pushing past them to curve over her bottom teeth and wrench her mouth open.

Her tongue instinctively darted up to press against the pad of his thumb. He watched her, eyes darkening. 

"Say it," he pulled his hand away to lean a forearm against the wall by her head.

She stared up at him, lips parted but wordless. A chuckle rumbled through his chest.

"Deny it all you want, but I saw how eager you were. To kiss me. To be touched by me. To undress for me." His wand tapped the buttons of her blouse as he traced a line down her chest. "Do it again. I want to see it this time."

Without a second thought, her trembling hands worked to open her shirt. Sebastian kept his eyes locked on hers despite the slow reveal he demanded of her. When she started to push the fabric off her shoulders he caught her wrist.

"Still so eager, hmm?" He purred.

His gaze finally drifted down to her chest. The thin cotton of the shift she wore beneath her clothing did little to protect her modesty. But God, she didn't care. Sebastian was right, she was ready to bare it all, all of her, for him.

She felt the tip of his wand on her again, tracing the line of her collarbone, then dipping down further between her breasts. 

" Hhhaaaaaaa… " she exhaled deeply when a sensation pulled at her chest, leaving her feeling hollow, her heartbeat faint and her vision cloudy. Sebastian had extracted something from her. At first she thought it was a glowing strand of pensieve memory, but looking closer she saw it was more like ancient magic. Set on fire. Blue and burning. How?

He lifted the magic to his lips and blew lightly, feeding the flame, allowing it to grow. He did it again and again until it was too bright and hot to look at. Until the flame engulfed him. And then the room around them. 

Her throat burned with smoke, lungs heaving, rejecting the smoldering air. She fell to her knees in disbelief. No! Not again!

She curled into a ball, eyes wide, watching the destruction. Sebastian still stood there, calmly, made of fire. He reached a hand toward her and reluctantly she took it. Then the flames took her too.

With a deep gulping gasp, Beatrice sat up from where she had fallen asleep. A piece of parchment stuck to her cheek and she batted it away, heart still pounding in her throat, eyes searching for the fire that consumed her. But there was no fire. She was in class, history of magic. Several other students around her were laid out on their desks, snoring and drooling into their books. Professor Binns apparently hadn't heard her outburst and continued his droning lecture without pause. Ominis in the seat next to her, on the other hand, did notice her startle awake.

"Are you alright, Beatrice?" He whispered. His hair was a bit disheveled, a red imprint of his knuckles was pressed into his cheek as if he had also been dozing off. His eyes were soft and sleepy, nothing like the cold accusing glare he had the night before.

She nodded stupidly then cleared her throat, "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry if I scared you."

"No need to apologize," he replied while reorganizing his desk space. "I'm quite used to it by now."

"You get nightmares?" She whispered skeptically. She didn't know much about him, but she'd heard talk from other students that he came from an old and wealthy wizarding family. What could possibly be haunting his dreams?

"No, not me," he paused for a moment. "Well, yes, sometimes. But I'm mostly referring to sharing a room with Sebastian. He's much worse when his nightmares wake him."

Hearing Sebastian's name made her chest tighten. The dream image of him and his cruel smile flashed through her mind for a moment. But, no, that wasn't him. That was just her subconscious fear, her lingering trauma. Of course, Sebastian could be frustrating and confusing and cryptic, but surely he wasn't… evil? 

Beatrice reached into her pocket to finger the envelope she received earlier that morning at breakfast. She recognised the slanted handwriting right away and had shoved it into her robe to forget about it. What could he possibly have to say to her after last night? He made his intentions clear. They were to be friends. Classmates. Occasionally, dueling partners. But that's all.

When Binns finally released the class, Beatrice decided to tear into Sebastian's letter. 

Dearest Beatrice,

I hope you'll forgive my untoward behavior in the Undercroft last night. I never intended for things between us to go so far. I meant it when I said I value our friendship. I think the fact that we have grown so close so quickly made me lose sight of that. And for that, I sincerely apologize.

I am looking forward to our duel tonight. Hopefully you haven't forgotten our deal? Despite last night's events, you do still owe me for the library. My hands continue to ache from all the shelving Scribner had me do as penance. If you stand me up tonight, we may have to make some other arrangements to pay off your debt. The choice is yours. I'm sure you’ll find a way to satisfy me either way.

- Sebastian

The parchment wrinkled under Beatrice's grip as she read his last few lines. A prickling heat rose to her cheeks. Did he know what he was doing? Was he doing it on purpose? Or was he such a petulant flirt that he didn't even realize how his words might sound? Especially to the girl that he pinned to a wall and furiously kissed not 24 hours ago. Or maybe it was just her. Maybe last night left her so delirious with want that she was reading into it too much.

" Incendio, " she set the paper alight. Beatrice didn't need his apology. At least, not the one that he offered in his letter. They were both at fault for taking things as far as they did. Yes, he kissed her so deeply she saw stars, but she begged him to do it. He let his hands wander, but she encouraged it. He pressed his hips against hers, but she pulled him closer.

A new wave of desire washed through her. She really needed to stop thinking about it. He had made his decision, and as much as she longed to feel his hands on her again, she would respect that decision. 

After her last class of the day, Beatrice pushed through the heavy iron gate into the clocktower arena where Crossed Wands held its unsanctioned duels. Students lingered at the sidelines anxiously, trading tips and practicing on enchanted dummies. She expected to find Sebastian in the thick of the crowd, boasting about his previous wins, or leaning confidently against the wall with his arms folded, observing the others. But he was nowhere in sight. Did he stand her up?

A giant pendulum swung precariously above the duelists' heads. Beatrice craned her neck to view the intricate mechanics of the massive clock. And that's when she finally spotted him, lounging against the rail of the clocktower scaffolding, watching her like a cat stalking a mouse. He raised his eyebrows at her and looked pointedly toward the wooden staircase.

"Sebastian, there you are," Beatrice greeted between heavy breaths. Why were there so many damn stairs in this castle? 

"There you are," he replied with a lopsided grin. "I'll be honest, I was half hoping you wouldn't show up."

"Is that why you're skulking about up here? You're hiding?" 

"Perhaps," he said slyly. "It would have been nice to keep you in my debt for a little longer. I've had fun thinking of all the ways you could repay me. Although… I think I have some ideas that you'd be amenable to even after our debt is settled."

"Sebastian," Beatrice shook her head at him. He was flirting again. And now she knew it was intentional.

"What?" He blinked at her innocently, still smiling. "You don't think I mean…" he pressed a hand to his chest in feigned offense, "Oh, Miss Bell, you do have a filthy mind. Not all of us are as insatiably lecherous as you, you know?" He chuckled as he brushed past her toward the stairs. "Shall we?" He motioned for her to join him. 

She wanted to give him a hard slap upside the head. Was it really so difficult for him to be his true self around her? He was the one who wanted to be friends, so why did he continue to hide behind this sarcastic flirtatious mask? She settled for giving him a sharp flick on the tip of his nose before heading downstairs.

"Ow! What was that for?!" He yelled after her.

"You act like a dog, you get treated like a dog," she said plainly. 

He rubbed at his nose, but she could see the smile hidden behind his palm.

~~~~~

It was a delicate dance, pushing her without pushing her away. But she needed to learn for herself how strong pure desire could make her. The power it offers. When you want something badly enough, it helps you find the strength and the will to take it. Unfilled desire turns into desperation, and desperation burns away any morality that once held you back. Beatrice hadn't learned that yet. Sebastian could see her thinking, reasoning, whenever he tried to push her limits. He needed her to act. Not measure and weigh the consequences. Those didn't matter.

But, she simply didn’t want badly enough. Not yet. He was testing her. Drawing lines for her to cross, then drawing more further down. She had already crossed the first two he put before her: breaking school rules by sneaking into the restricted section of the library, and learning the blasting curse, magic forbidden by their professors. He loved seeing her morality whither away. But how far could she be pushed? Sebastian was starting to doubt his intuition about her. Perhaps he had been blinded by hope, tricked into seeing a flame within her that wasn't really there.

He could see that she was stuck at the current challenge he set up for her. She was toeing that line of selfishness, but was reluctant to cross it. Sebastian waited for the day she would march right up to him, that fierce feral look on her face, and just take what she wanted from him. Use him to fill her own selfish needs. And he would gladly fill her, be used by her, let her– Oh, shit the duel is starting.

The opposing team consisted of Leander and Charlotte. An odd pair, to say the least, a smart mouthed Gryffindor and sweet-tempered Hufflepuff. Nothing he and Beatrice couldn't handle. Except, Beatrice looked distracted. She was fighting well enough, but not with anywhere near the same ferocity he had seen in her at the sundial garden. 

They both focused on the Hufflepuff girl, wearing her down until she finally stepped out of the ring in defeat. Beatrice should have been able to take Charlotte down on her own, easily. But between shielding Leander's attacks, Sebastian had to fire his own spells at the Hufflepuff to finally make her surrender.

The Gryffindor turned his attention to Beatrice and quickly cast a slurry of basic spells. She deflected most of them, but one caught her right above the eye, singeing a sharp line through her brow. She stumbled back a few steps, hissing in pain. Leander grinned smugly. 

"CONFRINGO!" Sebastian bellowed. He wanted to burn that smile right off his face. But his spell was deflected. 

"Stupify!" Leander countered, but Sebastian easily blocked it. 

"Hah! That all you got?" He taunted. "Bombarda!"

Leander blocked that one as well, and onlookers had to duck to avoid the ricochet. 

Beatrice launched a few spells, but none of them landed. 

Sebastian continued to throw protective spells up so he could check in on Beatrice.

"Hey! Where's your head at?" He asked, mildly annoyed. "What happened to our training from yesterday?"

"It's different when it's stones or trolls," she responded, then pointed her wand at Leander. "But he's a student. He's a person. I'm… I'm trying to make sure I don't hurt him."

"We're in a duel, that's kind of the point."

"I don't trust myself not to get too worked up, go too far." She looked genuinely distraught, but that revelation made Sebastian smile. 

Leander let out an exasperated sound, "Are you two going to fight me or snog each other? Make up your mind, I haven't got all night!"

"We need a time out!" Sebastian shouted at Lucan, who responded with a confused look. There were no time outs in Crossed Wands, he knew that, but he needed to get Beatrice back on track. 

"What’s wrong, Sallow? Am I too much for you to handle?" Leander sneered. "That's too bad. Your sister sure seemed to handle me quite well," he said with a suggestive smile. 

"What was that, Prewett?" Sebastian felt his blood could literally boil. He was ready to drop his wand and give the Gryffindor a good old fashioned uppercut. 

"I miss your dear, lovely Anne. It's a shame she's not here this year. We could have had such fun."

"Levioso!" Beatrice cast so quickly Leander didn't have time to react. "Flipendo!"

It wouldn't have been Sebastian's first spell choice but he did enjoy watching Prewett spin end over end, shouting uselessly.

"Descendo!" Sebastian slammed Leander to the ground with a jarring force, knocking the wind out of him. 

"Levioso!" Beatrice didn't even give him time to catch his breath. 

"Depulso!" Sebastian sent him flying into the iron gate. 

"Accio!" Beatrice summoned him back before he hit the ground, yanking him forward by his red striped tie. 

"Depulso!" Sebastian cast again. They were throwing him around like a rag doll. Sebastian was surprised to hear Beatrice giggling, burying her delight behind her free hand. Here they were, beating a fellow student black and blue, and she was having fun.  

With some more seamless teamwork, they tossed their opponent around a few more times before he finally gave in. 

"Winner!" Lucan announced, lifting both their hands to the crowd. 

 The two of them floated through the halls in post-victory bliss. Beatrice occasionally let out a bubbling laugh that echoed through the near-empty corridor. She was positively glowing. 

"We make a good team, you and me," she said after collecting herself.

"We do at that," Sebastian replied. "Although, it did start out a little rough."

He stopped her in front of one of the ancient gilded mirrors that hung on the wall and pointed at her reflection. She rushed forward and traced her fingers over the line that Leander's spell sliced through her eyebrow. 

She turned back to him anxiously, "Is this something they can fix at the infirmary?"

"You should leave it," he smoothed his thumb over her brow and watched her tension melt away under touch. With a crooked finger he lifted her chin to inspect the damage. “It makes you look dangerous,” he smiled down at her. With her face angled up at him, Sebastian could see the bruise he bit into her neck the night before peeking out from beneath her collar. It sent a possessive jolt of desire through him. He had to pull away from her before he did something he might regret.

"Not that you need to advertise it after that duel,” he continued. “Word is going to get around quickly about what we just did to Prewett."

That set Beatrice off into a giggle fit again. " Please tell me you saw his face! Priceless!"

"And where was this spirit at the start of the duel? You seemed so concerned about hurting him, but then–"

"He deserved it," she said. The ghost of her laughter made the words sound delightfully cruel. 

“Oh?” Sebastian arched a brow at her, waiting for her to continue.

"I can't stand men who talk about women like that. Like we're objects to be owned and used." She turned to start walking again. "I've dealt with too many men like that. I wish I had my magic back then."

With a few quick strides, Sebastian caught up with her.

"Can I ask you something?" He started cautiously.

"Mm hmm," she hummed, not meeting his gaze. She still seemed lost in her last thought.

"It's about last night." 

She glanced at him with a face full of mixed and unreadable emotions.

"About something you said when we were practicing at the stones," he clarified, setting her back at ease. "When you got Incendio right, you said it felt familiar. Strangely familiar. What did you mean by that?"

She let out a sigh, "Oh… that… it's uh…" she stared at her feet, "It's kind of hard for me to talk about." 

"Beatrice," he fisted the sleeve of her robe so she would look at him. "Please. Tell me. Sometimes talking about it can help. I know. That's why I confided in you about Anne. I could sense you would understand. Please, let me do the same for you?"

"I… alright but," her gaze searched the corridor. There were still a few students meandering around. "Not here. Is there someplace we can–"

"The Undercroft?" Sebastian suggested quickly. Perhaps too quickly. Beatrice eyed him suspiciously. 

"Don't you worry," he said with a chuckle. "I promise to keep my hands to myself this time."

They sat on opposite ends of an old abandoned couch in the dim light of the Undercroft. Beatrice was curled in her corner, knees hugged to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes and she bit her nails anxiously as she told the story of how she discovered her magic. The pushy factory manager, the sudden fire, her flaming magic, the miraculous escape. It all made sense now: her reaction to Leander and her familiarity with powerful fire magic. 

Sebastian felt the darkness bubble up inside him. She had killed someone. She had killed someone. She had killed someone. He should be terrified. Repulsed. Disturbed. But… Merlin, she's magnificent. He wanted her, needed her, more than ever. He had been right about her the whole time. 

“Say something? Please?” Beatrice chewed on her bottom lip nervously, tears starting to fall.

He rushed forward to take her trembling hands in his, pulling her forward so they sat face to face. 

“You only did what you had to do,” he reassured her. “You were protecting yourself. And who knows how many others you protected from that monster. Who knows how many women he attempted to… solicit. How many gave in to his illusion of authority against their own will.”

She gave a couple small nods, eyes still glistening. But then she quickly shook her head at him with her eyes squeezed shut.

“No! If I did the right thing, then why does it continue to haunt me? I still have nightmares about it. Surely I’m being punished for what I did.”

“I have nightmares too,” he gripped her hands tighter. “About what happened to Anne. I hear her cry out in pain, crying for my help nearly every night. It’s not a punishment. It’s the fear and anger that we don’t dare look at while we’re awake. These nightmares, they’re terrifying but they give us power. They remind us of who we are, of what we really want.”

“I don’t know if that’s who I want to be,” she sniffed.

“You don’t want to be a protector? A defender of the weak? Someone who fights for those who can’t? Someone who takes down those who prey on others?”

She pulled her hands from his to wipe the tears from her face.

“I wish I had the instinct and strength you had that night,” he continued. “I wish I could have destroyed those goblins before they had a chance to curse my sister. She suffers every day because of my inaction. I’ve never felt so pathetically useless, so weak. I couldn’t protect her, and I never want to feel that way again. Never. ”
She stared at him in worry, so he cradled her face in both hands.

"Please, don't let your anger and your power frighten you. You can use it to do great things, to help people. You already have. You had the strength to do what I couldn't, to do what needed to be done. I won't let you beat yourself up about it anymore. Do you understand?"

Beatrice nodded. A fresh tear dropped to her cheek. He quickly wiped it away with his thumb and placed his lips against her wet skin. He kissed her in every place her tears had touched; Her cheeks, the tip of her nose, the corners of her eyes, across her jaw. He felt her lashes brush against him as her eyes fluttered closed with a soft sigh. Finally, his lips found hers and for a sweet fragile moment, she kissed him back. But then she turned her face away.

"Sebastian," she whispered. There it was again, the incantation of his name that drove him mad; made him want to pin her to the couch and kiss her, pet her, taste her, feel her desperately squirm beneath him until they’re both reeling with desire. She had to know how it affected him. She had to. 

"You promised," she pulled his hands from her face and placed them in his lap. "You promised you wouldn't…"

He stared down at his palms, cursing internally for letting himself get carried away. He was starting to grow impatient, waiting for her to break, give in to what she wants. Her restraint was stronger than he anticipated. And the most frustrating part was that he knew she wanted him, but she held back because of what he said about their friendship, because he asked her to. He came so close to giving it all up, throwing it all away. Fuck our friendship, I want you NOW. 

"I'm sorry, Beatrice. I let my emotions get the better of me." 

"You don't have to apologize," she stood up and stretched. "Thank you. For letting me talk about all this. I haven't told anyone else the truth about the fire. Not even Professor Fig. The school knows about the fire and that I saved the other factory workers, but they don't know… the specifics. I was scared they might lock me up. I mean, I murdered someone. With my magic ," Her voice wavered a bit.

Yes, yes you did, Sebastian thought with a smile. He wished he could have been there to see it, the magical manifestation of her pure rage.

"There's no way the school or the ministry would just let that go if it reached them. So, please don't say anything about this to anyone."

"Of course. Your secret is safe with me."

"That includes Ominis. And Anne. And–"

"Yes I get it, no exceptions. It's just between us,” he assured with a chuckle. “You really think that lowly of me? That I'd share that kind of secret?" He said, half joking.

"Well, you did bring me here after you promised Ominis you'd keep it a secret."

Okay, she got him there, "Touché."

She gave him a tired smile. 

"I should head up to my room before it gets too late," she started turning toward the door.

"Let me walk with you," he offered, springing to his feet. "At least to the base of the tower. I'm not climbing up that blasted staircase."

"Oh, Sebastian, whatever would I do without such a selfless gentleman in my life?" She teased.

~~~

They walked together in silence. Not awkward, exactly, but contemplative. Beatrice was still wrestling with the fact that she finally let out her secret. The one she didn't even want to admit to herself. It was the first time she had ever really said it out loud, that she had killed someone. Someone was dead because of her. Because of her magic. Because she allowed her rage to consume her completely. She allowed herself to become blinded by it.

She had expected Sebastian to be shocked, maybe even doubt her story. Doubt that she was capable of such a terrible thing. Or maybe that's just what she hoped. But, he stared at her in… awe? Like someone watching the parting of storm clouds, the spilling of rays of golden light from the heavens. His eyes twinkled with hope , of all things. That look, it scared her. He scared her. But it was becoming difficult for her to tell the difference between the thrill of fear and the rush of want. The two feelings had become so knotted and entangled that she was convinced they were one and the same.

The silence finally turned awkward when they reached the base of Ravenclaw tower. They faced each other, neither knowing what to say, how to part. Sebastian kept his hands imprisoned deep in the pockets of his trousers like didn't trust them to be free. Beatrice fidgeted with the sleeve of her robe as she tried, and failed, to keep herself from staring at his hips. The way he pushed them forward as he leaned his back against the wall. The way his pocketed fists pulled the fabric tight across his–

"I still make you squirm, huh?" He said lowly, lips pulled into a lopsided smirk. He raised his eyebrows at her expectantly and tilted his head ever so slightly.

"No, I…" she clasped her hands behind her back where he couldn't watch them. "I wanted to thank you. For listening. I think you're right, it did help. A little. You really are a good friend." 

The confidence behind his smirk faltered for a moment. 

"I do aim to please," he responded. "And thank you for a… well, for an interesting duel. I'm sure we'll be the topic of conversation at breakfast tomorrow. But you still have some work to do before our next round."

"Next round? That wasn't part of our deal," she pointed out.

"Our deal was for you to get us to the top. We're not there yet. Still two more rounds to go."

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "I guess I did have fun."

"That you did. Some may say you had a bit too much fun."

The mental image of Leander flipping through the air, squawking like an angry goose sent her into a fresh fit of laughter. Sebastian watched with a dark smile. 

"Sorry! Sorry. I'll get over it soon, I swear," she said, regaining her composure. "I should head upstairs."

He gave her a short nod and turned toward his own common room. 

"Goodnight, Sebastian," she called out after him.

"Sweet dreams," he responded, still walking away.

When Beatrice made it to the first landing of the seemingly endless staircase, she felt a familiar pulse against her skin.

"Ominis?"

He paused his descent to meet her on the landing. 

"Oh, good evening Beatrice," he greeted with a soft smile.

"What are you doing at Ravenclaw tower?" She asked conversationally.

"I was just retrieving some fresh dittany leaves from Miss Dale," he held up a glass jar filled with the herb. "My wiggenweld potion is utter rubbish. I thought using fresher leaves might help. I need to master this potion for my N.E.W.T.s if I am to become a healer after graduation."

"You want to be a healer?" 

"Yes, I find there's a certain beauty to healing. After Anne… fell ill, Sebastian and I spent quite some time with her at St. Mungo's. It was inspiring to be around people who truly care about the well-being of others," he explained.

"Are your family healers as well?" Beatrice asked, drawing a pained face from Ominis.

"You know, your talent for magic is so great that sometimes I forget we didn’t grow up in the same world. You… don't know about the Gaunt family do you?"

"I'm afraid I don't, I'm sorry if I–"

"It's quite alright. My family, the Gaunt family, has a certain reputation. And it's not for healing," his voice was thick with disdain, hatred even.

Beatrice didn't want to pry. It was obviously a sore spot for him. She knew a thing or two about dysfunctional families. Even if it was just her and her father. 

"Anyway, enough about me and my miserable family," Ominis lightened his tone. "How are you? Hopefully the rest your day was better than this morning?"

“Loads better! Sebastian and I won our duel tonight," she boasted. 

"I expected nothing less. I knew the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with," he said with a smile. "Thank you. For partnering with Sebastian. I think it's helping take his mind off his sister's absence. He's been so focused on his research to cure Anne that I was worried he was going to drop out of Crossed Wands altogether. He needs the distraction. I'm concerned about the things he's been reading lately." He quickly shut his mouth as if he had said too much. 

"Oh? What has been researching?" She asked innocently.

Ominis shifted uncomfortably before answering, "I'm only telling you this because he needs another friend to look out for him. He's been spiraling into more archaic and shadowy magic. He's gotten it into his head that Anne was cursed by magic that is dark and ancient."

Beatrice drew in a sharp breath.

"The things he's reading… could send him down a dangerous path if he were to put them into practice, as I suspect he's planning. He always was more of a hands-on learner. But I implore you not to humor his fixation on that kind of magic."

She hummed in agreement but something tugged at her. Of course, Sebastian shouldn't be messing with any dark magic, but if he found information on ancient magic, that could be helpful to her. She wondered why he never mentioned his research when she told him about her abilities. Is it possible that he may know more than even she does?

The image of Sebastian from her dream resurfaced, the things he said and did to her, to her magic. 

"Ominis, do you know anything about magic that ca–" her train of thought was interrupted by the sharp sound of approaching footsteps.

"What are you two still doing out here?" A Ravenclaw prefect asked rudely. "It's just past curfew. Off to bed with you both!"

"Beatrice, promise me you'll–"

"Bed. Now, " the prefect cut him off. 

With a huff, Ominis lifted his wand and marched down the stairs.

Beatrice wanted to follow him. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. What did he know of the magic Sebastian threatened her with in her dream? Magic that can bend another’s will. Does that sort of magic actually exist? And what exactly had Sebastian found in his research that was so worrying? But the prefect eyed her impatiently and she knew not to press her luck. She made her way upstairs and prayed for a dreamless sleep

Chapter Text

When Beatrice sat down for breakfast, an envelope fell to her plate from the swarm of owls overhead. There was that slanted writing again. She didn't wait to open it this time. 

Beatrice,

I have a proposition for you. Something I know you won't refuse. Now, before you make that face, just hear me out.  

She hadn't realized her face was pinched with annoyance until she glanced up across the hall at Sebastian, making him burst out in laughter. He leaned over to say something to Ominis who cracked a small smile. Dammit, how did he know her so well already? 

I've made some extracurricular plans for us. Skip herbology this morning. We'll meet at the south gate. And bring your broom.

Beside Sebastian's quickly scrawled signature was Ominis' name, signed in fanciful looping cursive. That was a surprise. And now she was intrigued. 

Beatrice inhaled her breakfast and rushed back up to her room to change out of her uniform and into her favorite riding outfit. She was giddy with excitement. For flying. Not for anything else, of course. Not because of Sebastian’s letter. Not because he had some secret plan for them that involved cutting class. Not because he… Oh, who was she kidding? Any time the Slytherin asked her to do anything her veins thrummed with excitement. And nervousness. And fear. An intoxicating cocktail of emotions that drove her to do whatever he asked: Break curfew, sneak into restricted parts of the castle, learn forbidden spells, skip class. 

God, how did she get to this point? It took every bit of her willpower to end their kiss the other night. She wanted to give in to him, and his lips and his hands and his body, but…

But Sebastian was right. They both needed their friendship. That was the one bit of control she still had left. And she would hold on to that strength, his infuriatingly flirtatious charm be damned. 

So, Beatrice held her head high with confidence as she approached the two Slytherins at their agreed upon meeting point, broom in hand. They were both still in their house uniforms, and she suddenly felt overdressed. 

"Hullo," she greeted them. Her confidence drained as she watched Sebastian rake his gaze over her body in appraisal. 

"Good morning," Ominis smiled politely. 

"Our little Ravenclaw actually decided to skip class?" Sebastian finally said, pulling his eyes back up to her face. 

"Well, you did proposition me. Said I wouldn't refuse. So, here I am."

"Sebastian!" His friend hissed. "You promised you'd speak plainly in the letter, not use suggestive innuendos. I signed it too, remember? She'll think I'm a dirty scoundrel like you."

"It got her to show up didn't it?" Sebastian countered. He spoke to Ominis, but kept his eyes on Beatrice. "I told you, I know how to make her come around," he finished with a satisfied smirk.

"I apologize on his behalf," Ominis said quietly into her ear. He placed a gentle hand on her elbow to steer her toward the south gate, wand up and pulsing red. 

"Just for the record, Ominis, I would never think you're a dirty scoundrel," Beatrice assured him. She bumped his shoulder playfully with hers, drawing a small bashful smile from him. "By the way, you two haven't told me where we're going yet," she pointed out. 

"To Feldcroft!" Sebastian announced loudly behind them. He shoved himself between the two of them, taking Ominis' spot beside Beatrice, broom in hand. 

"Feldcroft?" She responded. "Isn't that quite far from here?"

"It looks like it on a map, but by broom it's a fairly quick trip," Sebastian explained. "I need to drop some school work off for Anne and I thought bringing a new friend might cheer her up."

"Oh, I didn't realize she was still a student."

"The professors have been sympathetic to her situation," Ominis said.  "They realized she was only one year away from graduating and have allowed her to finish her schooling from home."

"But she still needs to pass her N.E.W.T.s, so she needs all the study material she can get," Sebastian finished. 

"I'm excited to finally meet her!" Beatrice had heard so much about the absent Sallow twin. She felt like she was about to meet a celebrity. "So, shall we… erm…" she suddenly realized the math wasn't adding up: three people and two brooms. "How… exactly is flying going to work?"

"Ominis will ride with you," Sebastian said plainly, mounting his broom.

"What?!" They exclaimed in unison.

"Well, you can't very well fly on your own can you?" Sebastian explained to his friend. "And you know these flimsy school brooms haven't been able to hold the both of us since fourth year."

"Yes, but–"

"Then what's the problem? You used to fly with Anne all the time." Sebastian kept a straight face, but Beatrice could see something twisting behind his eyes. 

"I… perhaps I should visit another time," Ominis looked like his heart might break and Beatrice wouldn't stand for it. 

"Don't be ridiculous, I don't mind sharing. As long as you don't mind, of course," she finished quickly.

"See? She's fine with it," Sebastian clapped his friend on the shoulder in encouragement. "Let's go!"

It was awkward at first, getting used to flying with two on her broom. Ominis sat stiffly behind Beatrice, leaning back away from her and throwing the balance off completely.

"Ominis, I… I need you to lean forward and hold on to me."

She could feel him hesitate. 

"Well, go on," Sebastian urged him. "Do as the lady asks."

She felt his breath huff into her hair, but he finally pressed his chest against her back and placed his hands on her shoulders. Still awkward, but more manageable. When Beatrice glanced over at Sebastian, she saw something wicked churning behind his smile. Why was he doing this? 

Any concern Beatrice had melted away the instant they started soaring over the Scottish countryside. She had flown around the school grounds, but this was something else! Tiny picturesque hovels drifted by beneath them. The trees were turning bright hues of red and gold. Even Ominis seemed to relax against her as the fresh, crisp air rushed past. She felt him hum pleasantly against her.

"I've missed this," he confided in a whisper against her ear. 

"Missed what? Flying?"

"Yes. Since Anne fell ill, I haven't been able to fly like this. We don't have a broom that can hold both Sebastian and I. Anne is… was the only person I could fly with."

"Well, I guess we'll have to do this more often, then. I adore flying!" Beatrice said with a laugh and pushed the broom to go a bit faster. The sudden rush forward made Ominis wrap an arm around her waist in a panic.

"What are you two conspiring about over there?" Sebastian asked, pulling up beside them. His gaze danced between the two of them, noticing his friend's grip on Beatrice's waist. "Well, isn't this cozy?"  

Ominis quickly returned his hand to her shoulder. 

"That's my fault," she replied. "I should have given him a warning that we were speeding up." She felt a smile creep to her face. "Here's your warning, Ominis: Hey Sebastian! Race me!"

"No Beatrice, don–" Ominis tried to protest, but she was already off, pushing the broom as fast as it would go with two people. One of his arms wrapped back around her middle, the other came up across her chest to hold her opposite shoulder, grasping her tightly against him and hanging on for dear life. She could feel his heart pounding through every inch of contact. With the wind rushing against her ears, she could only hear bits and pieces of Ominis’ scolding. She caught the words “childish” and “reckless” sprinkled with a few colorful swears she was surprised to hear come out of his posh mouth. But she pushed forward nonetheless, giggling with glee.

Beatrice had the advantage of a better broom, but Sebastian didn’t have the weight of a second person holding him back. He quickly passed her with a triumphant laugh. As hard as Beatrice pushed, she couldn’t catch up. Sebastian peered back at them over his shoulder and leaned forward in a sudden nose dive. In her excitement to race, she didn’t realize they were so close to Feldcroft already. She followed Sebastian, tipping forward and maintaining speed in the hopes of finally catching up.

“Hold on, Ominis!” she shouted as if he wasn’t already crushing the air from her lungs. But the downward drop took him by surprise. One of his hands came down between her thighs to grip the broom handle, steadying himself.

They weren’t able to catch up to Sebastian after all. He was already on the ground, shading his eyes against the sun to watch their descent.

“Ground incoming, I’ll put us down lightly,” she informed her passenger.
“I should hope so!” he responded in exasperation. He continued to clutch her and the broom handle tightly until both their feet were firmly on the ground.

“It looks like you two enjoyed yourselves,” Sebastian greeted them with a leering smile.

Beatrice giggled at Ominis’ grumpy disheveled appearance. She went to work putting him back together, smoothing his hair back into place, straightening his tie and flattening his collar. She could feel his anger dissolve under her preening. 

“Thank you, Beatrice,” he said, catching her hand and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. “But I’m never flying with you again,” he finished with a smile.
 

Ominis walked ahead, wand in hand, toward the door of a small, cozy looking stone cottage. Sebastian beckoned Beatrice around the side of the house, where a broom stand was mounted to the wall.

“Interesting…” he mused, hanging up his boom. 

“Hmm?” she asked. She was only half listening, still blissfully high from flying.

As he took the broom from her hand, his fingers traced lazily over hers. He watched her with that penetrating gaze that made her stomach flip. After he hung up her broom Sebastian turned quickly back to face her. His hands flew up to straighten out her clothes and tuck loose strands of her hair behind her ear, mimicking what she had done for Ominis. But his movements were rougher, more possessive, tugging her closer to his chest. Or maybe she moved toward him on her own, she couldn’t tell. Beatrice worried her lower lip between her teeth and tangled her fingers together to keep them still. 

“Ah, so you are still a squirmer.” His voice darkened half a shade and he stepped closer to speak directly into her ear. “But just for me.” 

She didn’t have time to respond before he turned on his heels and walked back to the front of the cottage.

Sebastian pressed a finger to his lips and quietly opened the front door. They followed his lead, entering silently. He snuck up behind his sister, a frail-looking girl sipping tea at the table, and gave her a playful scare. She let out a startled gasp.

“Sebastian!” Anne stood quickly and wrapped her arms around his chest. He hugged her back with a genuine grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. But he quickly pulled back and, with the flourish of a street magician, produced shrivelfig as if out of thin air. Anne’s eyes widened at the sight.
“Is that…?” 

Before she could take her gift, a large bear of a man appeared from behind them and snatched it out of Sebastian’s grasp. With a cruel glare at Sebastian, he disappeared the fruit before their eyes, dissolving it to nothing. The dismay that befell the twins’ faces sent a shock of rage through Beatrice’s veins.

“Shrivelfigs can’t break curses,” the man sneered at Sebastian then looked down his nose at Anne. “Nothing can.” He stepped between the two of them, blocking Sebastian from his sister. “When will you accept that?”

Sebastian’s upper lip twitched in a feral snarl, his hands balled into tight fists, shaking like he was trying hard to stop himself from raising a hand to his uncle. 

“Never,” he growled lowly. "I will never accept it."

The pure hatred in his eyes sent a chill down Beatrice's spine. 

Anne sniffled and Ominis rushed forward to comfort her, holding her tightly against his chest. She buried her face into his shirt as he pressed his lips to her temple, brows furrowed with worry. He whispered something into her ear and smoothed her hair. Oh, it suddenly dawned on Beatrice. He's in love with her. She wondered if Sebastian could see it too. But looking at him, she realized he likely wasn't seeing anything but red at that moment. 

"And you know, Uncle," Sebastian continued coldly, "Feldcroft is starting to talk, wondering why you were so quick to accept it. So quick to let your niece suffer."

The elder Sallow took a menacing step forward, but Sebastian lifted his chin at him in defiance. 

Anne suddenly let out a shuddering cry. She turned away from Ominis, hand clutching her stomach, eyes screwed shut in pain. 

Sebastian reached out for his sister, his face finally softening. But their uncle stepped between them once more. 

"Now look at what you've done!" Solomon accused. "Get. Out."

"Anne–" 

"Go!"

Sebastian stomped out of the house and slammed the door behind him. Ominis motioned silently for Beatrice to go after him.

She found him pacing angrily by the garden fence. He had one hand tangled in his hair, making it even messier than it normally was. He shook the tension out of his other hand, curling and uncurling his fingers in a claw-like motion. His face was still painted red with rage.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said softly to the ground. "I didn't think he would… it's one thing when it's just Ominis and me but…" he trailed off with no sign of finishing that thought. 

"Is it true?" Beatrice asked. "What you said about the others in the Feldcroft talking?"

"No," he smiled slyly. "But they should be. My uncle has had control over our parents' estate since they died. He was going to lose it after we turned 18. But now he's Anne's caretaker, so it's still under his control."

"You don't think he's keeping her ill so he can keep your parents' estate?" 

"Cursed," he corrected. "And that's exactly what I think. Why else would he have given up so quickly? Why else would he try so hard to keep me away from her? If he drives us apart, he at least gets to keep her half." He was getting worked up again. "I won't let him do it. I won't let his greed keep Anne in pain. I won't let him take Anne away!"

Beatrice had never seen him look so distraught. Even in their late night confessional in the Undercroft, he didn't look so broken. One part of her wanted to hold him, comfort him, tell him that he could fix this, that he would find a way. That they would find a way.

But another part… another part wanted to hurt Solomon. It wanted to hear him scream as loudly as Anne had. Louder. That part scared her. She didn't know where that urge came from, why she was so quick to anger at a man she didn't even know. Then she realized: Solomon reminded her of them. The predatory moneylenders and loan sharks that preyed on her father. That terrorized him, intimidated him into submission. That stalked him to and from work to snatch his earnings straight from his hands. That callously destroyed the few precious belongings they had, just to set an example. That beat her father until he quite literally never got up again. Their greed tore her small and already broken family to shreds.

She saw that same callous cruelty and greed in Solomon. And now Beatrice was shaking with rage too.

"Sebastian," the angry edge to her own voice startled her. Sebastian's eyes flicked to hers in surprise and anticipation. Longing. She cleared her throat. "You don't think your uncle was the one who–"

"Cursed her?" He finished for her. He let out a deep sigh before continuing. "Believe me, if I hadn't been there myself that's what I'd think too. But there's no way. I was with him when it happened. When the goblins…" He lifted his gaze up toward a nearby hill where the ruins of a home stood. Then he turned back to Beatrice, his eyes glazed over with angry tears. He quickly blinked them away.

 "I'm sorry, would you mind checking on Anne? I need a minute."

"Of course," she said with a nod. 

When Beatrice approached the cottage door, she had to jump out of the way to avoid getting bowled over by Solomon as he exited.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "Excuse me, sir."

She stepped aside and bowed her head, crossing her hands in front of her like an obedient young lady. It was a habit she hated, but it kept her out of trouble. 

"I didn't catch your name," Solomon said gently. He was a different man than the one she witnessed inside. Almost fatherly.

"Beatrice. Beatrice Bell."

"I'm sorry we had to meet like this, Miss Bell." 

"It's alright," she responded. Another habit: Always be agreeable. She was sick of it. "Actually, Mr. Sallow," she called after him as he started to walk away. "If I may? I think what you did in there was unnecessarily cruel." She held her head up and looked at him squarely. His brows pinched in confusion and irritation, but she continued. "Even if the shrivelfig can't cure Anne, it was a gift from her brother. You had no right to take it away from her."

"That 'gift' was nothing more than false hope. I'm protecting Anne from her brother's arrogance," his voice turned stony and cold again. Mercurial temperament must run in the Sallow family, she thought.

"Sebastian is trying to save her. He's doing anything he can to help relieve Anne of that curse. Why are you stopping him?"

"It's a fool's errand. Nothing can save my niece."

"With all due respect, sir, it sounds like you haven't tried hard enough."

Solomon looked about ready to give Beatrice a sharp slap across the face. She only stared at him harder, daring him to do it. 

" With all due respect, you are a stranger and should stay out of my family's business. You sound just like him," Solomon spat. "If you want to help Anne, then let her live what's left of her life in peace." 

With that, he marched off into the village center. 

When Beatrice turned to enter the house, she spotted Sebastian looming by the garden, watching with those dark eyes. Had he seen the whole thing?

She pushed through the heavy wooden door and was greeted by the sound of delighted giggling. When Ominis heard Beatrice approaching, he quickly pulled his hands away from where he clutched Anne's at the middle of the table. His face turned an adorable shade of pink that made Beatrice's heart flutter in a strange way. Anne turned to greet her.

"Hello Beatrice! It's so great to finally meet you," she beamed. It was hard to imagine this was the same girl that was doubled over in pain just minutes ago. 

"Likewise," Beatrice replied. "I've heard so much about you, I was starting to wonder if you were a real person!"

That made Anne laugh, the same full and an unashamed laugh as her brother, but slightly weaker. It turned into a light coughing fit that had Ominis reaching for her hands again.

"Are you doing alright?" Beatrice asked. "Can I get you something? Some more tea?"

"Please, don't worry about me," Anne said after catching her breath. "Come, sit! I want to hear all about your first months at Hogwarts. Starting as a seventh year? It must all be so exciting for you!"

They traded stories of classes and professors, classmates and common rooms. Beatrice learned that, despite her fragile appearance, Anne was actually the biggest troublemaker of the Slytherin trio. 

"Where do you think Sebastian got that broom he rode in on?" She asked. "I pilfered a couple of practice brooms for us back in our third year. Kogawa never saw it coming! She fell for this sweet face just like the rest of the professors." She demonstrated her innocent puppy dog eyes then let out a mischievous laugh. "They tried so hard to solve the mystery of the missing brooms, but they're never going to find them in the–" she suddenly pressed her lips together in a tight line.

"The Undercroft?" Beatrice finished for her. "Is that where you hid them?"

Anne eyed her cautiously. Her expression was impossible to read. Disbelief? Sadness? Jealousy?

"They… showed you? The Undercroft?" Her head whipped in Ominis' direction.

He must have felt that accusatory stare, because he said, "You'll have to talk to your brother about that."

"Hmmm…" Anne pondered, swirling the dregs of the tea in her cup. It seemed even she didn't fully understand what she was feeling. She finally glanced back up at Beatrice, her eyes sparkling with renewed happiness. "I think he fancies you," she said with that signature Sallow smirk. 

"Who? Sebastian?! No!" Beatrice tried to protest, but Anne just nodded, maintaining that impish smile. “I… No, we’re just friends.”

“If you say so,” Anne responded casually. “But that’s not how he writes of you…” she finished with a sidelong look. Beatrice felt her face prickle with warmth. 

Anne produced her wand and silently summoned an old wooden box from her bedside table. She started shuffling through its contents, piles of parchment, letters displaying both Sebastian’s slanted scrawl and the looping cursive of Ominis’ enchanted quill.

Either Sebastian’s ears were burning or he had impeccable timing, because before Anne could produce whatever letters she was looking for, he appeared at the front door. He looked significantly calmer than when Beatrice left him. The fresh Feldcroft air did him some good. Or perhaps it was simply the absence of Solomon.

“What are you three up to in here?” he asked playfully. His eyes landed on the box in front of his sister and panic flashed across his face for the slimmest of seconds.

“Just pursuing some old letters,” Anne responded nonchalantly, but a wicked grin tugged at her lips .

“Oh, no you don’t!” he rushed forward and snapped the box close, careful to avoid crushing Anne’s fingers, and placed it back on her bedside table. “Those are private letters.” 

He returned to the table and gave her hair a brotherly ruffle.

Anne pouted up at him, “You’re no fun!”

The four of them spent the rest of the afternoon chatting over several pots of tea. They discussed their post-graduation plans. Ominis was already working on getting an internship at St. Mungo's. Anne stayed hopeful that she'd be able to get at least some part time work at the ministry in the department for the removal of hexes and jinx, something she had already been planning on even before she was cursed.

"Trust that the irony is not lost on me," she said with a laugh.

Sebastian, though, his plans surprised Beatrice. 

"He's after Scribner's position at the Hogwarts library," Anne announced proudly. 

"Really?" Beatrice grinned broadly at him. The tips of Sebastian's ears turned crimson as he glared at his sister. Beatrice never expected him to be interested in something so tame, so mundane. But she supposed it made sense. He had an understanding of the library that no other student had, not even anyone in Ravenclaw. She always saw him reading in the halls or walking between classes with books floating closely behind him. And not just textbooks, but large ancient looking tomes with intricate gold leaf covers. She thought it was his obsession with finding a cure for Anne, but perhaps he was just naturally bookish. 

She could imagine it: Sebastian, several years older, wearing a handsome tweed set with elbow patches, smiling devilishly as he hands a student a book he knows they're not supposed to have. 

Oh, that image set Beatrice's heart racing. Professor Sallow.  

Sebastian cocked his head at her in amusement, "What's with that look on your face? Got a thing for librarians?" He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. 

"N-no! I just… I had no idea that's what you…" She started wringing her fingers together nervously under his leering gaze. Squirming , he silently mouthed at her, looking pointedly at her hands. She quickly shoved them under the table and said, "I guess that's why you like to spend so much time in the library?"

"We joke that that's why Sebastian gives poor Scribner such a hard time. He's trying to put her into early retirement," Anne giggled.

"With the stress he causes her, an early grave is more likely," Ominis added.

"I don't see that happening any time soon," Sebastian sighed. "But that just gives me time to focus fully on finding a cure." 

He smiled softly at Anne who looked down sullenly at her tea. Ominis cleared his throat uncomfortably. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to say something, anything, to change the subject. 

Anne let out an exaggerated yawn to break the awkward silence.

"Thank you all so much for coming to visit me today. But I'm getting a bit tired and need some rest."

Ominis stood quickly to help Anne rise out of her chair. 

"It really was great to meet you, Beatrice. I hope you can come again soon!"

Beatrice was surprised when she came in for a hug. They held each other for a moment before she felt Anne slip something into her pocket. 

"Send that back to me when you're done," she whispered quickly before breaking their embrace. 

A quick dip into her pocket found a bundle of folded parchment. A letter. Beatrice recognized that smile on Anne's face, the same one Sebastian got when he was up to no good.

The flight home was quiet and chilly. Ominis begrudgingly agreed to fly with Beatrice again. It was either that or walk back to the castle. He thought about it for far longer than Beatrice would have liked, but finally relented when she promised not to pull any surprise stunts on him. Despite his initial protest, Ominis seemed to grow quite comfortable riding with Beatrice. He draped his arms lazily around her waist, occasionally clutching her hips when a gust of wind took them by surprise. He buried his face in her hair to keep warm. The icy tip of his nose brushed against her skin, sending a chill through her. 

Beatrice's chest did that funny fluttering thing again when his breath tickled the nape of her neck. She swallowed that feeling quickly and steadied her heart. He's in love with Anne, she tried to remind herself. But her heart wasn't listening. It was her turn to be stiff and uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong?” Ominis asked when he finally noticed her discomfort.

“Hmm? N-no. Just a bit cold I guess?” she responded nervously.

He pressed further into her hair so his lips rested just behind her ear, “But you feel so warm…” he droned sleepily and held her tighter. She let out a shaking breath.

“Ominis…? Ominis, are you… sleeping?”

He simply hummed in reply.

"Hey… erm, we're landing soon. Ominis?"

He finally shifted and grew more alert. His hands moved back up to her shoulders. 

He yawned and said, "Apologies for my sleepiness. You know, you're actually quite pleasant to ride with when you aren't actively trying to kill us." A light chuckle rumbled through his chest and Beatrice felt it with every nerve in her body. 

When they finally landed, they were met once again by Sebastian's curiously amused face. Ominis dismounted and bid Beatrice goodnight with a quick squeeze of her hands. He walked sleepily into the castle without waiting for Sebastian. 

"I would ask if you had a good flight, but that look says everything," Sebastian said with a lopsided smile.

"I think he may have dozed off," Beatrice giggled nervously. 

"I wasn't talking about him." 

He reached up to brush the back of his fingers across her cheek. They were frigid against the heat of her skin. 

"Oh, someone's blushing," he teased in a whisper. “Should I be jealous?”

Beatrice was done with his games. 

"Kiss me," she said plainly.

"What?" He let out a huff of a laugh. 

"Kiss. Me."

His face was a picture of conflict and confusion. His gaze flicked from her eyes down to her lips and back. Even in the growing darkness she could see his pupils expand with hunger. He almost looked like he was going to relent. Almost.

"I knew it. You're all talk," she smirked up at him. It felt good to give him a taste of his own medicine. "Goodnight Sebastian." 

Beatrice left him standing there with a perplexed look on his face. She half expected him to run up on her from behind and drag her down to the Undercroft for a good, proper… kiss.

But when she peeked back over her shoulder at him, he was watching her with a sinful spark in his dark eyes. 

Later that night, after her roommates fell asleep, Beatrice sat in bed tapping her fingers against the folded parchment of Anne's smuggled letter. She was debating whether she should read it or just send it back. Sebastian obviously didn't want her to see what was in his letters. That made it all the more enticing. It would be nice to have some leverage on him, something to volley back at him when he tried to push her buttons. But should she cross that line? Invade his privacy? Sebastian wouldn't hesitate if the tables were turned, she knew that. She held her breath, unfolded the parchment and dove in.

The bulk of the letter was dedicated to filling Anne in on the latest gossip around the castle and Slytherin house. Passing on messages from friends and favorite professors. Lamenting over her absence. Complaining about the lack of quidditch. Informing her about his latest reads and library findings. Beatrice's own name caught her attention near the end.

You remember Beatrice, the new seventh year I mentioned in my previous letter? The Ravenclaw who slayed that troll at Hogsmeade. For the life of me, I can't get that day out of my mind. I can't get her out of my mind. And not just because she saved me from getting completely smashed to bits. There's something about her, but I can't put my finger on what it is. It's almost like she's magnetic. I don't mean that in the cliche romance novel way. I mean I can literally feel my attention pull to her when she enters a room. Like a moth to a flame. What kind of magic is that? I know she has command over some special kind of power. I saw it that day at Hogsmeade. I felt it.

Perhaps I'll learn more tonight. She's asked for my expert assistance in acquiring some mysterious book from the restricted section of the library. I know I shouldn’t, but who am I to say no to a fellow student in search of forbidden knowledge? She found my weak spot. Maybe whatever it is she's looking for will shed light on this feeling I have about her.

I need to bring Beatrice to Feldcroft to meet you. You can tell me if you sense something in her too or if I'm just completely out of my mind. You can tell me if she's just a pretty girl or if there really is something more to her. Merlin, I hope there's something more. I hope I'm right about her. Please tell me I'm not just some pathetically smitten schoolboy. I know I'm better than that.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 5 | Letters and Longing

They say a watched pot never boils. It took Sebastian a long time to learn this. He had always been an impatient child. On those cold and damp Feldcroft mornings he would stare at the kettle on the stove, urging it to boil, anxious for a steaming cup of tea to warm him. As he matured he broke his habit of lurking by the stove, but his impatience persisted.

Beatrice was his new kettle. He watched her intently, tending her flame, waiting for her to simmer, to finally boil over. It wasn't until after their trip to Feldcroft that he noticed his error. He needed to give her space. Allow her to explore her magic, her new life at Hogwarts without him. For a bit.

It was her conversation with his uncle that made Sebastian realize he didn't need to hover over her. He saw the way she initially shrunk herself and bowed her head to Solomon. But then… then she simmered. She squared her shoulders, stared Solomon down and bluntly, unapologetically confronted him about Anne. About his inaction to help her. That spark that Sebastian had fanned into a flame raged behind her eyes and crackled in her voice. It was time to let that fire grow on its own. 

So, he stayed away. It was hard, and it pained him, but he kept his distance, as much as he could. They still chatted in the halls and partnered in Charms, but he refrained from pushing her, drawing any more lines for her to cross. He needed to see if she would do it on her own. And to Sebastian's delight, she did.

Rumors were starting to circulate about her adventures through the forbidden forest, bravely chasing off poachers and Ashwinders. 

Anne wrote that Beatrice was the talk of Feldcroft for dismantling a nearby encampment of Ranrock loyalists that were terrorizing the villagers. While he was digging through old school records in the library, she was out there putting goblins in their place. Merlin, he wished he could have been there to see it. He was kicking himself for missing that show.

He had to admit, he almost lost control when Beatrice loudly announced that she’d partner with Leander for a Herbology assignment. But then the Gryffindor was promptly rushed to the hospital wing, shaking and bleeding, covered in chomping cabbage bites. Beatrice looked genuinely distraught, then shot Sebastian a secret, sly smile when the others weren’t looking. He thought about that mischievous smirk for the rest of the day. And for a bit that night… after Ominis had fallen asleep. Something about the way that danger lit up her face, the way she could turn it all on just for him, fuck it was hard for him to keep his hands off her.

Sebastian did, however, feel a spark of possessive jealousy when he heard Beatrice was running nefarious errands for Garreth; sneaking into Sharpe's ingredients stash and stealing from Honeydukes. And more jealousy still when he saw her skipping class to fly around the castle grounds with that Clopton boy. But despite it all, despite the fact that she was out there making mischief with those other boys, Sebastian took pride in the fact that he was the one that dragged her down this path. He knew that the growing darkness inside of her belonged to him. He knew she was still his. And the longing looks he caught on her face from afar confirmed that she knew she was his too. 

Overall, things were going brilliantly. Mostly. Sebastian was worried about how close Beatrice was getting with Ominis. And not out of jealousy. Alright, a little out of jealousy. He saw the way Beatrice melted in Ominis’ arms on their flight back from Feldcroft. He saw the way she would make any excuse to touch him, his tie, his hair, his face, his hands. Sebastian would say that he wasn’t afraid of a little competition, but he didn’t see Ominis as competition. Not really. He knew his friend only had eyes for Anne, so to speak. Ominis tried to hide it, but Sebastian could see it. And he knew Beatrice could see it too, the way her smile faltered whenever Ominis mentioned Anne. Surely she wouldn't attempt to seduce someone, a friend, who was vulnerably and hopelessly in love with someone else? Would she? Well now, that would be interesting… Sebastian could work with that.

That intriguing notion aside, he worried that Ominis' pure goodness would rub off on Beatrice. She seemed to have a weakness to his warm and kind soul. Sebastian was troubled by the thought that his friend could reignite the virtue in her he had worked so hard to snuff out. 

To keep her on the right track, Sebastian had no other choice. He had to intervene somehow, yet somehow also keep the distance she needed. So, nearly every morning he sent letters to Beatrice. She never wrote back, but Sebastian didn't care. That wasn't the point. He just needed to remind her. Of who she was. Of who she was becoming. And perhaps every once in a while, a little flirtation. The kind that he knew sparked the rage inside her that he so loved to see. It became Sebastian's favorite time of day, watching her open the letter, read, and glare daggers in his direction.

She'd never admit it, but he could tell Beatrice looked forward to those letters as much as he did. One morning, he decided to test that theory. He didn't write. Beatrice spent the whole breakfast hour watching the owls, waiting anxiously for one to drop an envelope into her lap. Tangling her fingers together and squirming in anticipation for a letter that never came. That's when he knew for sure. She's mine.

Dear Beatrice,

How are you faring on these frigid nights? I wish I could say I'm able to bear this cold, but I seem to be missing my favorite wool jumper. I realized it when I was studying in the Undercroft the other evening. I know it's been a while since you've visited, so you don't know how cold it can get in these late autumn nights, even with all the braziers lit. Imagine my dismay when I couldn't find the spare sweater I keep down there for just such occasions. 

How could I possibly forget that you still have it? How could I forget that it was the only thing you wore after getting drenched from the storm? How could I forget the way your body felt beneath it?

But worry not. I've decided to let you keep it. Green is a good color on you. And I'm sure you could use a little comfort on these chilly evenings. Feel free to call on me should you need something more to keep you warm at night. 

-Sebastian

Dearest Beatrice,

Natty mentioned she's been helping you learn wandless magic. An intriguing pastime. I also think Hogwarts focuses entirely too much on wandwork. Wands increase accuracy, of course, but sometimes they hinder the instinct that we all have in our bones. After all, our first and most potent displays of magic happen before we even get our wands.

I'd be interested in learning as well, if you'll have me as your student. I always was great with my hands. Perhaps we can meet in the Undercroft and you can show me how to use them.

-Sebastian 

My mischievous Beatrice,

I will admit, when you partnered with Prewett for that herbology project, I thought you had gone mad. I thought you forgot the disgusting things he said, how he acted during our duel. They way he thinks of women. The way he probably treats them. But you didn't forget. How long has that hatred of him been smoldering inside you? How much did it pain you to have to wait for the perfect moment to let it out? How good did it feel to finally see him bleed?

-Sebastian 

My dear Beatrice,

Well well, I hear you've been quite the busy little bee. Ashwinders and poachers. Ranrock loyalist encampments. And ne’er an invitation for your good friend and dueling partner? Don’t forget who helped you become the brutal and effective fighting machine you are now. I have no doubt that you wouldn’t need my help. But I’d love to join, even just to spectate. I do love to watch you work.

-Sebastian

My Busy Bee,

How was your field trip with Clopton yesterday? Did he give you his famous Hogwarts tour? Take you to a secluded spot with a beautiful view, away from the prying eyes of our classmates? 

I cannot believe you fell for that. The other girls didn't tell you that's how he tries to seduce them?

Whisk them away, give them a rush of adrenaline, leave them feeling breathless and awestruck by the view before making his move. Everyone knows his little trick. I bet he thought he could pull it off on the innocent new girl. But you're not as innocent and helpless as he thought, are you?

-Sebastian

Bumble Bee,

I am disappointed in you. I teach you the disillusionment charm and you use it to help Garreth? To sneak into Honeydukes like a third year with a sweet tooth?

I expected more from you. I thought you were better than that. I thought you craved more than sweets and cheap thrills and smiles from red-headed golden boys. Is that really what you want? What you're happy with? What do you truly crave, Beatrice?

-Sebastian 

Little Honey Bee,

Ominis tells me you've agreed to help him with his potions project. I can tell he's starting to warm up to you, especially after that cozy little flight back from Feldcroft. I suppose I cannot blame him, I know how hard it is to forget the feeling of you under my fingertips. How do you do that? Enchant any man who presses his palms to your waist?

Knowing what his research entails, it makes sense that Ominis has chosen your help over mine. Did he mention what he plans to brew with you? I'm dying to tell you so I can watch you blush and squirm, but I won't spoil the surprise. 

Try not to have too much fun tonight,

-Sebastian

-----------------

"Love potion…?" Beatrice gaped at Ominis when he showed her the brew he intended to make that evening.

"Amortetia," he corrected. "Not technically a love potion. It doesn't create authentic love, just intense infatuation. Obsession." 

Beatrice swallowed thickly. She had completed two keepers trials. She had dismantled multiple poacher hideouts and Ranrock loyalist camps. But this. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready to confront what this potion might make her feel.

Ominis must have felt her discomfort. He ran his fingers over a passage in the potions book they were working out of. Enchanted braille bumps raised on the pages, obscuring the text, making it difficult for Beatrice to read. 

"This is why I'm researching it," he clarified. "The steam of Amortentia produces the fragrance of whatever you are most attracted to." 

With a quick flick of the wand, he summoned the necessary ingredients from a nearby shelf.

"Did you know that a patient's emotional state, their mood, can determine how quickly they recover? Hospitals can be stressful. They're sterile and unfamiliar. And the stress can hinder the recovery process." His words came out more quickly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he continued, "I think that if someone is surrounded by their favorite smell, it can help them feel more at home. More at ease."

It was all starting to make sense now.

"And because Amortetia creates a scent that's unique for each person, one potion will work for everyone, even in one room," Beatrice finished for him. "Ominis, that's brilliant!"

He nodded with a faint blush, still focused on organizing the ingredients before them. 

"I plan to take my findings to St Mungo's. Hopefully they will be as impressed as you are and offer me an internship."

"Perhaps you could bring some to Anne as well," Beatrice suggested. "I'm willing to bet some of her favorite smells are here at Hogwarts. It could be like bringing a slice of the castle back to her at Feldcroft."

Ominis fumbled with a vial of dried herbs and sniffed sharply, turning his face away. 

"Shall we get started?"

Humidity quickly filled the air of the empty potions classroom as the two worked together at one cauldron, shoulder to shoulder. They had both shed their outermost layers to find comfort in the sticky room. They were on their third attempt and Ominis was growing visibly frustrated. The steam pulled his hair out of its perfectly coiffed style and he kept roughly raking his fingers through it, pushing it out of his face. He continued to tug at his tie and collar before finally loosening them both to hang limply around his collarbones. 

Beatrice was about to add another pinch of some opalescent powder when Ominis suddenly held up his hand, eyes wide.

"Wait!" He inhaled deeply and his face relaxed into an expression of bliss. The tension visibly melted off him as he leaned in closer to inhale more of the steam.

"I think we finally got it," he murmured. A breathy sigh escaped his lips and the sound of it punched the air out of Beatrice's chest. The memory of that same breath against the nape of her neck sent the ghost of a shiver through her.

"What does it smell like?" Beatrice asked. She was vaguely aware of a fragrance surrounding her but couldn't pick out any recognizable scent yet.

Ominis inhaled again, "Foggy mornings… wildflowers and…" his face flushed, "Earl Grey tea. It's like…"

Like Anne.

"Like home," he finally finished, eyes fluttering closed.

"Sounds lovely," her voice pulled him out of his dreamy state.

"Come," he held a hand out towards her and she allowed herself to be pulled in front of the cauldron. Ominis lingered closely behind her, like he couldn't bear to be away from the steam quite yet. His right hand rested on the counter, bracketing her hip on one side. The other gently grazed her wrist. Despite the heat of the room, his fingers were a shock of cold against her flesh. The kind of cold that made her desperate to drag his hands beneath her shirt and press into her skin to warm them.

"Do you mind?" He asked as his fingers found her pulse point. "I'd like to see how your heart responds." Her breath hitched for a moment. 

For his research, she reminded herself. 

"Inhale," his voice was soft in her ear.

They both inhaled deeply, bodies swelling together. That breath left her with a shaking sigh as images swam behind her eyes. 

The cruel twist of a smile. The scrape of teeth and nails against pebbled skin. A flash of dark eyes.

No. Beatrice tried to shake the images away, but she was surrounded by the scent of him.

Candle smoke.
Rainstorms.
Fresh ink on parchment.
Old books.

No no no. Despite all of Sebastian's suggestive letters and flirtatious looks, she had successfully avoided these thoughts of him. These memories. This… want. But now she was trapped. Trapped in a cloud of him. And it was too much. Entirely too much. Being here. And with Ominis pressed to her back, still cradling her wrist in his gentle grasp, she realized how starved she was of touch. How much she wanted it. Needed it. It was making her tremble. Making her mind cloudy. Her knees weak. Her heart race.

"Interesting," Ominis's voice barely cut through the fog. "This seems to have a different effect on you. What does it smell like to you?"

Like danger. "Like adventure," Beatrice amended her answer.

"Hmmm," the rumble Ominis's pensive hum slid down her spine. She turned to face him, hoping he would step away, but his feet stayed planted in place.

Their chests rose and fell together as they both fell under the enchantment of the steam once again. He moved first, placing a stabilizing hand on her shoulder, his thumb grazing her neck. She leaned into his touch with a sigh of encouragement. She needed more, craved more, and he obliged, sliding his hand up to tilt her face toward his. They were so close. Their breath mingled between them.

Another lungfull of steam sent a shock of images through Beatrice's mind again. The caress of fingers and lips, wandering hands, heady moans, the lust-filled rasp of her name. And then she was lost, too far gone to realize that this was wrong. That she shouldn't be smoothing her hands across Ominis's chest. That she shouldn't let them travel down to his hips. She shouldn't pull him against her by his belt loops. She shouldn't thrill at the sound of his gasp, at the desperately needy look on his face, at the feel of him against her. She shouldn't tilt her head and part her lips. She shouldn't. They shouldn't. It was wrong. And yet…

When his lips finally slanted over hers, that need exploded inside her. She was no longer in control. She was completely at the whims of her want and desire for the intimate touch she had been starved of for far, far too long. A strangled moan escaped him when their lips finally met and Beatrice knew he was hungry for it too. Voracious. 

They were frantic, clumsy, all tongues and teeth and rasping breaths. Tearing at each other's clothes, trying to feel something, anything. 

Beatrice broke away to hike up her skirt and hop up on the worktable. Vials and jars clattered to the floor but she was too focused on the Slytherin in front of her. Pink cheeks, pinker lips slightly parted, his half-lidded moonlight eyes, his disheveled hair, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She needed him against her again, she needed that taste of him on her tongue, peppermint and vanilla. With a fistful of his shirt, she yanked him forward to slot between her knees. Their foreheads pressed together, but Ominis gripped the edge of the table, resisting her pull, resisting what she knew they both wanted. Needed. But they were so close, she wasn't giving this up.

Beatrice found his hands and slowly, gently guided them up to her knees. He shifted closer, allowing her to move his touch up, past the hem of her stockings. His breath stuttered against her lips when he finally reached the smooth skin of her thighs. Those cold fingertips were a balm against her heated skin and she needed to feel them drift higher, to press into her, to cool her down from the inside. 

Beatrice angled her hips until they finally met his. An involuntary moan escaped her when she felt the hardened length of him press between her legs. Ominis nearly fell over on top of her and his fist slammed the table by her head to catch himself. He buried his face into her neck to muffle his whimpering moans as they began to move against each other with more urgency. His fingers dug deeper into her thigh and his thumb swept inward and lit up every nerve. She wasn't getting exactly what she wanted, but fuck this was good. So good. 

So good. The words echoed in her mind, but it was Sebastian's voice. She was still downing in the scent of him. It was like he was here with them. Lurking in the shadows. Watching. 

Would he be jealous of the way his friend's hands and hips worked against her? Of the pleasured noises he was drawing from her throat.

Or would he…

Beatrice arched her back at the thought of it. Of Sebastian behind her, mumbling sweet praises into her ear. Of his hands joining the two already on her body. Of him growling instructions at Ominis. A little slower… that's it… don't give her what she wants yet, make her wait for it. Make her beg for it. 

The thought sent her careening toward the edge of her desire. And then…

Her body went cold as Ominis pulled away. He took a step back and adjusted his clothes with trembling hands.

"Beatrice I…" his voice was heavy with shame, "I don't know what came over me."

"Ominis-"

"I think the… the Amortentia is a bit stronger than I anticipated," he let out an unconvincing laugh and smoothed his hair back into place. He was still trying to catch his breath.

"Ominis, please," even she could hear the longing dripping off her words. She reached for him again, but when her fingers grazed his chest, he grasped them in his own. 

"I'm sorry, Beatrice," he said, giving her hand a squeeze. "This… we shouldn't. It's not really what we want. I'm not who you really want. And you…"

He didn't need to finish that thought. You're not who I want . She tried not to let that sting because she saw the truth in it. She wasn't Anne. And he wasn't Sebastian. And they were both just so frustrated and parched for attention, for touch.

Fucking Sallows.

"I think it would be best for both of us if we parted ways for the night," he moved the cauldron to the nearest sink to dump the potion down the drain. "I'll stay and tidy up, but it's almost curfew so you should go." The air finally started clearing, and so did Beatrice's head. 

"Let me help you," she started gathering up and organizing the ingredients to put away. 

"Really, Beatrice, I insist," his voice was gentle but he rushed forward to stop her. "You have a much longer trip to your common room. Besides, this is my mess. I should be the one to clean it."

The smell of the Amortentia continued to cling to Beatrice's hair, taunting her with tempting visions as she tried to sleep. It also didn't help that Samantha liked to keep their room stiflingly hot. Beatrice was used to sleeping in the cold, under bridges, exposed to the bite of London winters. She still hadn't acclimatized to the heat her roommate required. She reached under her pillow to finger the stack of letters she'd saved over the past few weeks. She pulled one out and used it to fan herself, trying to evaporate the sweat that gathered at her neck and chest. The moonlight peeking through her window highlighted a passage on the parchment.

… great with my hands.

Nope. That definitely won't help.

She shoved it back under the pillow and grabbed another one at random. Her eyes scanned the scrawl as if she didn't already have every letter memorized. The smug smile she knew Sebastian would have if he found out she kept every correspondence, that she reread them when she couldn't sleep. He could never know. 

… the undercroft… you don't know how cold it can get in these late autumn nights.

Without thinking too hard about it, Beatrice threw herself out of bed, grabbed her slippers and escaped into the cold of the empty castle halls. 

And… shit it was maybe a bit too cold. Beatrice didn't think to grab her cloak before leaving. She was shivering in nothing but her thin nightgown by the time she made it to the undercroft. By some stroke of luck, the braziers were all already lit, bringing light and warmth to the dungeon-like room. But, no, of course it wasn't luck. Beatrice had none of that.

"Hello, Honeybee."

---------------------

Sebastian couldn't stand being in the room with Ominis after his little Amortentia experiment. He appeared in their dorm room, late, well past curfew, with messy hair, burning red cheeks, and the scent of Beatrice's perfume hanging on his clothes. He knew better than to be jealous. It was his idea, after all, for Ominis to ask for Beatrice's help. It was all part of the plan. Wind her up, push her toward his friend, and wait for her to snap. And, judging by the rumpled clothes and uncertain look on Ominis's face, she certainly did snap. It was all working beautifully. 

Sebastian knew he should be proud that she finally crossed that line, the one she had been skirting for so long. She was selfish. She took what she wanted, consequences be damned. So why did he feel like he was going to crawl out of his own skin? 

Once the breathy snores from Ominis's side of the room fell into the usual steady rhythm, Sebastian stood from where he was working at his desk and left, making his way to the undercroft for his nightly extracurricular studies. 

All the books he pilfered from the restricted section had to be stored in the Undercroft, else the homing charms would call them back to the shelves. On most nights, he had to slip narrowly past the gate, nudging at the books with his foot to keep them from escaping, like trying to keep an anxious cat from sprinting out an open door. He'd lost a few good books when he wasn't quick enough. But he still had the ones he needed. 

After gathering up the books where they piled near the door, Sebastian placed them back in their temporary home beneath the abandoned couch. He found the one he had been reading the night before and picked up where he left off, flopping down on the worn cushions. He rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie and unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt, wishing he had changed out of his uniform into something more comfortable. 

His heart began to pound with excitement as passage after passage confirmed his suspicions and supported all the other research he had done throughout the past weeks. And finally, he knew it was all worth it. All his meticulous planning would pay off. He would get what he wanted.

He was so lost in his reading that he didn't even hear someone enter the undercroft until the book suddenly tried to fly out of his lap and to escape through the open gate. Sebastian held it in place until the bars slammed back down.

And there she was. Beatrice. Standing there like a beautiful specter in a gauzy night dress, hair tumbling around her face and shoulders. Even from across the room, he was filled by the scent of her. Her perfume. Her lavender soap. But there was something else there too. Something mysterious that made his skin prickle in a delightful way.

"Hello, Honey Bee," he crooned. It was the first time he tasted that nickname on his tongue. It felt right. 

Her eyes sprang to him and widened in surprise. She huffed a curse under her breath. That was new, a shift away from her usual muggle exclamation of God. Sebastian wanted to hear more of those dirty words fall from her pretty lips.

He shook his head, burying that thought. 

With an audible snap, he closed his book and shoved it under the cushion of the couch. He didn't want her to see what he was studying. At least, not yet. 

Beatrice quickly waved away the orb of light she had conjured without her wand. Those wandless magic lessons with Onai were apparently going well. Sebastian wondered what else those hands were capable of. How much power could she wield with them alone?

"What are you doing here?" Beatrice asked, a hint of alarm in her voice. 

"I'm here nearly every night to study a cure for my sister," he explained, rising to meet her where she pressed her back against the wall, like she was trying to stay as far away from him as possible. 

"The better question is why are you here?" He finally reached her, trapping her. 

From this close, he could see the faint outline of her body beneath the thin white fabric of her sleeping clothes. He allowed his eyes to linger, following the line of those curves, observing the way the fabric puckered at her chest, before drawing his gaze back to her face. 

That scar from their duel still sliced through her brow. She had left it. For him. Because he had asked her to. Because she knew he loved how dangerous it made her look. 

Mine.

"I… I couldn't sleep," she crossed her arms over her chest with her hands tucked tightly beneath her elbows.

"And why's that? Still too hot and bothered from your potions date with Ominis?"

He watched her throat bob. A threatening look sparked behind her eyes, just for a moment. Oh , he hit a nerve.

"It wasn't a date," she said too evenly.

Sebastian chuckled, "You say that, but the way Ominis looked tonight suggests to me it was a rather successful date."

He took another step forward and watched her try to shrink away from him and tighten her arms around herself.

"Don't worry, little Bee, I'm not mad. You don't have to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," she snapped, "I'm…"

"You're what?"

"I'm afraid of… what I might do," her eyes shuttered.

"Oh? And what might that be?" He asked, amused. 

Beatrice's hand shot forward, wrapping his tie around her knuckles and dragging him forward. She kissed him with a hunger he felt all the way down to his toes. Her desperate moans climbed down his throat as she pressed her chest to his.

But, no. Sebastian didn't want desperate Beatrice. He wasn't interested in this leftover want from whatever had happened with Ominis. He wanted his Beatrice. The fighter. The flame.

He pried her hands off him and pinned them to the wall above her head. She squirmed against his grip in vain. 

"What are we doing, Beatrice?" He tried to keep his voice level. But she just kept squirming.  

A frustrated noise rumbled in her chest.

"Stop it, Sebastian," her voice was low. Demanding. Her eyes burned into his. "Stop pretending like this isn't exactly what you want. What you've been goading me to do for weeks. Those letters. All those fucking letters." She writhed angrily in his grasp, but stayed pinned in place.

"I don't know what to tell you, Beatrice. It doesn't mean anything, it's all just for fun. It's just friendly, platonic teasing. That's how I am with all my friends," He tried to sound sincere, but her demanding presence was starting to take hold of him. He couldn't help but smile and admire the rage he pulled out of her.

"That's bullshit. It's bullshit and you fucking know it. You know it!" She writhed again, nostrils flaring. 

"Beatrice, I–"

A new and sudden calm swept over her face, making him lose his thought. She was planning something.

"So you don't want to kiss me?" She asked innocently, doe eyes blinking up at him.

"No..." He said cautiously.

"You don't like to watch me squirm?" She wiggled gently against him. An involuntary huff of breath left his chest.

"No."

"You don't want to keep me warm at night? Or show me how great you are with your hands? Or find out what it is that I truly crave?" He realized that she was quoting his letters. That thorn of lust burrowed deeper into his chest.

"No," he managed to say flatly. Keep control.

Something in the way her lips twitched and her eyes narrowed sent a rush of ice through his veins.

"So, you're not just some pathetically smitten schoolboy?"

Fuuuck.

Sebastian's body flooded with heat and a spike of desire stabbed through him. He didn't even realize his fingers had closed around Beatrice's neck until he felt the rumble of her laughter against his palm.

"What… Did you just say?" He hissed.

She only smirked in response, clearly very pleased with herself. 

"You look awfully smug for someone with a hand around her throat," he growled in her ear, tightening his grip until her eyes fluttered shut then loosening again.

Her eyes opened and… there she was.

The burning flame. My Beatrice.

With a deep moan he took her mouth with his, violently, possessively.

She met his fervor, instantly parting her lips for him and shivering as he ran his tongue over hers. A feral noise escaped him at the feel of her, the taste of her.

He finally released his left hand where it pinned her wrists above her head, but he left his other ringed around her throat. He wasn't letting her get away with that comment so easily. Her fingers traced over the ones he had digging into her neck. Not trying to release them, but like she wanted to memorize the sensation.

With his free hand, he splayed his fingers across her ribs and pressed her firmly against the wall so she would stop fucking squirming . Restless, impatient girl. Sebastian wanted to take his time with her, enjoy her, but the way she was moving against him was shattering his self-restraint. 

Only when he had her sufficiently pinned did he let his hand wander. 

He slid his palm up and muttered a slew of curses into Beatrice's mouth as he met the curve of her breast. The cotton of her chemise was thin enough that when he brushed his thumb over the sensitive peak, she let out the most delicious moan. That sound… fuck. He did it again. And again. And again. Thrumming the pad of each finger against her. Testing how each movement, each flick, each press, each circle, changed the pitch of those pretty pleasured noises. He would have been happy doing only this all night; plucking at her, playing her like a harp and enjoying the way her body sang beneath his fingertips. But–

"Sebastian…" she whimpered against his lips and arched her back, trying to escape his teasing touch. She was overstimulated. Understimulated. Both at the same time. Her knees wobbled on the verge of collapse. She should count her blessings that he decided not to use his mouth. His tongue. His teeth. She wouldn't have survived it.

Sebastian shifted his attention down to her hips to feel where they met flush with his, fisting the fabric barrier in frustration. He wanted to tear it off her.

Then further still, down to her thigh, groaning as she slid it up the side of his leg, inviting him closer, pressing him further between her legs. 

He finally released his grip on her neck and slid his hand into her hair, giving it a sharp tug to reveal the red outline of his fingers on her throat. The sight of it tightened the knot in his chest. He wanted to mark every inch of her body. 

"Beatrice, you–" his sentence melted into a low growl when she gripped his belt and pulled his hips roughly against hers. 

"Shut up, Sebastian," her voice was heavy with frustrated want. "If you don't shut your mouth and let this happen, I swear…"

Oh, realization settled in. She thought he was going to try to end things again. No, it was too late. He was lost in her. He wasn't letting her go this time. 

She stared up at him defiantly, eyes darkening like a dare. In one swift movement he scooped her up and guided her legs around his waist. Her arms twined around his neck, holding him close to her breast as he carried her to the couch. 

Beatrice draped herself over the cushions like a piece of fine silk, so soft and inviting. Half lidded eyes raked over his body while delicate fingers reached out for him. He fell to his knees before her. The cold of the stone floor beneath him helped to ground him. And he needed it. He could feel himself spiraling down to that dark place that made him want to tear her apart. Break her down. Claim her. Body and soul. Especially when she–

"Sebastian," her fingers tangled in his hair. She tried to guide him up to join her on the couch, but he ducked out of her grasp.

"Patience, Honey Bee," he chided. The fabric of her night dress bunched beneath his hands as he slowly slid them up her thighs. "Let me just look at you." He pressed his lips to the inside of her knee. "So pretty for me," he mumbled into her skin and looked up at her through his lashes. "You look so good just like this, all spread out on display and waiting…"

Just as he was about to push the hem of her shift over her hips, he felt her freeze. Her face, once fixed in a gorgeous expression of lust, seemed uncertain, embarrassed. Sebastian nearly kicked himself for forgetting. She's muggle born. He learned from other classmates that the muggle world was suffocatingly modest and hyper fixated on the concept of purity. He never understood why sensuality, especially for women, was seen as dirty and shameful. 

Beatrice started drawing her knees together, but he kept his hands on her thighs, kneading them with a gentle touch. She didn't push him away. 

"Don't go bashful on me, now, Beatrice," he said, trying to catch her gaze. "You don't have to pretend with me. You don't have to try to be that innocent little sheep everyone else wants you to be. You don't have to hide what you want from me." 

Sebastian slid his hands further beneath the thin layer of cotton, until his grip met her bare hips. Her breaths became heated and shaky as she watched his fingers move beneath her clothing.

"What do you want, Beatrice?" he searched her face, still pinched in uncertainty. "Tell me. Please." 

"I don't… I… I've never…" She chewed at her bottom lip.

Of course . How could he forget? She may be a virgin, but still…

"You must know what you want," he prodded, drawing slow circles into her flesh with his thumbs. "What do you think about when you touch yourself at night?" 

"Sebastian!" She squeaked and buried her face in her hands. 

"Oh, no you don't. Don't hide from me," he gave her hips a warning squeeze. 

She peeked down at him through his fingers. 

"Fine," he said with a sigh. He pulled away from her, drawing a needy whimper from her. He whipped the loosened tie from his neck and pulled it over his eyes, knotting it at the back of his head. "What are you doing?" Beatrice asked, shifting closer, missing his touch.

"If I can't see you, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, right?"

Silence. 

"Or we can just go and pretend this never happened," he reached to pull the tie from his face.

"No!" She grabbed his hand to stop him. 

Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle the eagerness that persisted despite her trepidations. He knew how to get to her. Beneath those layers of shame was a girl who knew what she wanted. Prod at her enough and she would take it. She just needed a little push. A little encouragement. 

Blindly, he placed her hand on her thigh and guided it up until he felt it pushing past the hem of her chemise. 

"Touch yourself. And tell me all the lecherous thoughts that fill your mind," he pressed his lips to her knee. 

The air remained painfully still and quiet. Sebastian began to wonder if he had tried pushing her too far. But then…

Her knees parted and he settled between them once more, planting more kisses on each thigh. When ran his teeth, his tongue over her skin, a sharp gasp sliced through the darkness. 

"Don't stop," she whispered.

He moaned in reply, continuing to work his mouth over her, wishing he could see the look on her face. The marks he was leaving on her. He couldn't wait to tear off the blasted blindfold and trace over those marks with his fingers, his lips. 

Beatrice ran her hand through his hair, nails scraping his scalp, pulling gently at his curls to guide him where she wanted him. It wasn't where he wanted, but he gladly let her control him. 

Sebastian paused and lifted his head when he heard it. A rhythmically slow slightly wet sound. Punctuated by staccato breaths. 

Fuck.

"Oh, fuck, Beatrice. Are you–?"

"Yes," she exhaled. 

His stomach twisted with want at the sound of her, her sighs, her fingers slowly teasing herself. He had to palm the growing ache in his pants. Shit. His forehead rested against her thigh as he continued to listen to her. 

"No, c'mere," she mumbled between panting breaths and lifted his chin with her free hand. "I like… seeing you. Like this." The tips of her fingers brushed the satin over his eyes

Sebastian wanted to devour her. 

"You like seeing me down on my knees for you?"

She responded with a long, low moan. Her body tensed, growing so taut he knew she was on the precipice. But then she paused, held her breath, until she relaxed again. And with a few gasping breaths she began again. Drawing herself to that edge just to unwind again. 

And again. 

Sebastian groaned and cursed and stroked her legs each time she denied herself release. He nearly begged her. He was mad with the need to hear her cries of pleasure, to feel her thighs quake around him, to hold her as she thrashed in the ecstasy of her own making. 

He needed it, and she needed it too. They've both been waiting so long. So why?

Was this some sort of payback? For the way he taunted and teased her? Could she truly be that deliciously cruel? Or did she simply enjoy dancing on the edge? That thrill that comes from looking over the edge before you jump. The adrenaline. The anticipation before the plunge. 

"Fucking hell, Beatrice, you're killing me," he almost didn't recognize his own voice, it was so wrecked with need. His fingers dug deep into her flesh, trying to restrain himself, stop himself from tearing off his blindfold and taking her in every brutal way he had ever dreamed. 

"Sebastian… I…" her voice had reached a frantic pitch. He was so lost in the sound of it that he barely felt the grip around his wrist. He didn't realize where it guided him until–

A growl rumbled through his chest when he felt his fingers press into the hot slick of her.

Her breath quivered as he drew gentle circles around her center, occasionally dipping the very tip of his finger further inside her only to pull back out and circle again. She gripped at his hair once more, anchoring herself to him as he continued to savor the feel of her. 

"Sebastian, please!"  

A part of him wanted to be petty, to deny her release once more. To finally be the one to deny her. The one in control. 

But he couldn't resist. There wasn't a drop of control left in his body. So he readily gave in to what she wanted. He slowly, finally, slipped a single digit fully inside her, moaning her name as he felt how tight and warm she was. His cock gave a frustrated twitch, angrily aching in neglect. But he pushed aside his own need to focus on Beatrice. And the way she choked out a sob when he curled his finger inside her. He needed more of those sinful sounds from her. His touch was relentless, pressing up into her, stroking her from the inside until even he was dizzy with lust. Drunk off the shameless way she cried out in pleasure and rolled her hips against his hand. 

The blindfold was unceremoniously ripped off Sebastian's face and the sight before him nearly set him on fire. Beatrice was positively glowing. Beautifully spread out before him. Limbs and back twisted in wild ecstatic pleasure. Like the artwork of ancient goddesses in the books he'd studied. And he was on his knees before her. Serving her. 

Her whole body flushed and glistened with sweat as both their hands worked vigorously between her legs. He shoved her thighs further apart to run the fingers of his free hand over the bruises he bit into her flesh. Finally, finally , he set his gaze to her face and he couldn't hold back the curl of his pleased smile at the utterly debauched look Beatrice wore. Her bottom lip pinched in her teeth. Her brows drawn up and together in an irresistible plea for release. When their eyes met, hers rolled up and fluttered closed. Her head fell back and she let out the filthiest moan Sebastian had ever heard. 

If he thought he had lost control before, he was positively feral at that sound. He couldn't take it anymore, this teasing game she played with him. With a frustrated groan, he pushed himself forward, guiding Beatrice's back to the cushions so he could hover above her, finally having the proper angle to slide deep inside her. But instead he withdrew his hand just enough to rest his fingertips at her entrance. Beatrice glared up at him, cursing his betrayal. He responded with an amused smirk.

"Fuck. You." She barely got the words out between heavy breaths.

Sebastian braced a palm on the arm of the couch by her head so he could lower his lips to her ear. 

"You will soon enough," he said. The thought of her above him, using his body to grind out her pleasure… fuck. "But for now," he gently stroked at her with two fingers, pressing both shallowly inside then pausing, "you're going to take a little more."

"Yes," she sighed as her hazy gaze stayed locked on him. "Yes, please god, yes." Her hips moved to meet the slow grind he set.

He took it slow at first, marveling at how the inclusion of just a single digit made her feel impossibly tight. But when she whimpered for more, he finally, finally, let go. He drew Beatrice's leg up over his shoulder, spreading her wide and nearly bending her in half. His hips took advantage of the soft curve of her thigh, moving against her in time with his fingers, seeking any kind of friction to sate his own aching desire. 

Beatrice's cries echoed off the stone walls around them as they moved together at a fevered pace. Her body grew taut again and Sebastian thought he might actually die if she eased back from that edge again. But she didn't. She threw herself over with abandon. Back arched. Eyes squeezed shut. Chest heaving. Her throaty moans quivered as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her and her slick walls fluttered around his fingers. His hips gave another involuntary, frustrated thrust forward. He wanted so badly to be properly inside her. To feel that quaking heat wrapped around his–

"Sebastian," Beatrice squeaked and released a sharp huff. She gripped his wrist to still him where he was still thrusting and curling his fingers inside her. "P-please… I-I can't…" she let out a stuttering sigh, something between a moan and a giggle, and tried to wiggle away from his touch.

Shit, he had gotten carried away by the feel of her. Lost entirely in the sound and sensation of her pleasure.

He withdrew from her and slotted his body next to hers on the couch. He let his hand wander over her thighs, her skin still slightly hot and sticky with sweat. 

"You are fucking magnificent," he mumbled into her neck between tender kisses.

When she shifted closer to him, he let out a sharp breath at the way she brushed against where he was still hard. Her hand started to travel down from his chest, but he quickly grasped her wrist to stop her. 

She blinked at him in confusion, "Don't you want–"

"Mm mm," he hummed, shaking his head.

"But you–"

"Shhhh," he shushed her playfully, running his fingers through her hair
"But–"

Sebastian pressed his mouth to hers to finally silence her. But he was careful not to kiss her too deeply, not to get too carried away again.

"Ouch!" Beatrice hissed in pain and reached behind her to fumble with the couch cushion. "Something's jabbing at my shoulder. What… is…" She produced the book Sebastian had been studying before her arrival. "Oh," she let out a small laugh. "Of course you would try to bed me on top of a stack of books. I should expect nothing less from Sebastian Sallow."

That mental image sent a new pulse of want straight to his cock; Beatrice bent over a table in the library, fucked against a bookshelf in the restricted section…

She waggled the black leather tome in front of his face, pulling his thoughts away from that tantalizing scene.

"So, what's this one about, then?" she flipped through the first few fragile pages. The sight of that book in her hands spiked Sebastian's heart rate. Things really couldn't fall into place more perfectly. She scrunched her face in confusion. “You can read this? It’s practically illegible.”

Sebastian chuckled and plucked the book from her hands. Between the flowery language, the hasty and careless handwriting, and the messy overlapping notes and annotations, the journal appeared to be one from a madman. But after weeks of studying it, Sebastian found it to be one of the most important books he’d found in the restricted section.
“This, my dear Honey Bee, is the journal of one of Salazar Slytherin’s closest academic colleagues.”

Beatrice stilled beside him, her calculating eyes searching his face.

“It’s a fascinating philosophy on the use of magic,” he continued, omitting the fact that this particular philosophy was on the use of dark magic, “and it provides a unique look at the history of Slytherin. Like this,” he paged through until he found the entry that sent his heart racing. “Did you know that Slytherin had a secret scriptorium where he kept his most profound research?”

Beatrice swallowed thickly but her eyes scanned the page, curious. 

“Imagine the knowledge he had there, all lost to time, all forgotten for centuries! And it’s been right under our noses this whole time!”

A knowing look settled on Beatrice’s face, “Sebastian… you’re not thinking–”

“You realize the kinds of answers we could find there, don’t you?” He dropped the journal and took her face gently in his hands. “A trove of research from one of the best scholars of magic that the wizarding world has seen. If any place has information on what can cure Anne, information on the magic you wield…”

Her eyes widened in realization, pupils dilating ever so slightly.

“It’s there. The answers we want. Answers we need,” Sebastian said. “I can feel it.”