Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Say the word 

I'll be there

Forever and Always

Day or Night I'll be your shadow

Give you what you need

Look so pretty when you are

Over me

The hero of Hogwarts.

That thought alone floods my mind as I’m escorted to the Great Hall by four of Rookwood's men. Two at my back, two in front.

The chains that connect the shackles around my wrists rattle with every painful step I take. I fought hard, and I lost harder. After completing the last trial, the location of the repository was finally revealed to me through one of the Keeper’s memories. Only to be surprised by dark wizards as I was leaving what I thought was a safe location.

I walked across forests and hills and meadows; away from any main street to avoid being seen. I trekked all around The Highlands, without using something so easy as Apparition, because I couldn’t afford to be caught. I couldn’t afford my magic to be traced. 

Only to become a prisoner to the mad man that put me in chains and snatched any notion of freedom I could fathom. 

Hogwarts is in ruins, I observe while dragging my feet down the corridor. Rookwood didn’t vacate the school after the battle as I hoped he would. No.

It’s a castle, after all. And he thinks of himself as king.

So this is where he has taken permanent residence. Everyone is gone. The professors and the students. The portraits on the walls have been taken down, and the ones that remain are nothing but a blank canvas full of beautiful landscapes, fruits and musical instruments. But no people.

The only ones here are Rookwood and his loyalists. And me.

I am only kept alive because this is another one of Rookwood’s mental tricks. Psychological warfare to diminish the morale of the wizards out there that are still fighting. 

I was plan A, B and C.

Nobody thought to make more plans in the event that I failed.

All the tears I could’ve possibly shed about this have been already spilled, leaving an empty space inside me. A space I have filled with rage.

Rage because we made it here thanks to the betrayal of someone I thought to be my friend. Someone that walked with me to every trial. Someone that took care of me. Someone I even lov…

I don’t dare to finish that thought, not even in my own head. Not when we finally make it to the Great Hall, and the doors open for me.

The four tables of each Hogwarts house are gone and so are the colorful banners, replaced with black ones. The broken glass and the rubble have been cleaned. But the space still feels tainted.

At the end of the hall, the smaller table that once belonged to the school teachers has disappeared, too. The platform remains, making me think of it as a throne room more than a space to dine. 

There’s even a chair in the middle, no doubt where Rookwood sits and grins at everyone like he controls the world.

He has access to the repository now, so he very well is.

But it’s not Rookwood waiting on the dais. 

No.

This man is a lot taller. 

He wears what other loyalists wear. Black jacket, black pants, black belt, black wrist bands, black boots. Black cloak, hood up.

Black mask. Black gloves.

His wand is not out, but he doesn’t need one to stimulate fear amongst the others.

He is Rookwood’s second in command. His most trusted advisor and his right hand. His executioner, if the occasion requires it. I’ve seen the evidence with my own eyes, a little too late.

I let him close to me, thinking I could trust him, only to find out he was my downfall.

His figure towers over me as I get closer, his brown eyes as black as everything else he wears. The candelabras around the hall have been dimmed, not casting enough light to vanish the shadows that seem to twirl around the room. Dancing and laughing at me.

The two men in front of me nod to the silhoutte on the dais, as if obeying unspoken orders from him before they are walking to the side and disappearing from my vision. Leaving me to face that soulless stare.

“On your knees for the Commander.”

One of the men behind me barks in my direction, but I don’t follow through. On the contrary, I stand as tall as I’m able after spending days in the dungeons of the castle, in a cell they made just for me. I’m still dirty, bruised, thirsty and starved. But I will be damned if I let them see me falter.

Especially him.

I raise my chin at Sebastian Sallow, my gaze narrowing with disgust.

I hate him so much that is all I can think about. That is all that’s keeping me upright. 

Through the corner of my eye, I see the dark wizard, the one that told me to kneel, lifting his hand to strike me. It’s a fast movement and I know it’s going to hurt, so I brace myself for the pain.

But Sebastian stops it with a small gesture of his hand. I can’t make out his expression, but I feel his amusement radiating from behind the mask.

“No.” 

His voice is deep and dark and his tone leaves no room to refuse. He takes a step towards me, getting off the dais. I have convinced myself that he only looks tall because he has been standing on a level above me. But it is a lie.

He towers at least a head above me, platform or no platform. 

Instead of keeping still, he proceeds to slowly pace around me, trying to intimidate with his intentional moves. He watches me in predatory silence and I can see him disappear behind my back. I don’t turn around to face him.

Seconds filled with tension pass. And then Sebastian leans in, speaking closer to my ear, but not close enough to touch me.

“I believe it’s time to find you other accommodations.” 

That’s a statement I don’t see coming. I imagined they would keep me alive for a short amount of time, just to parade me like a broken trophy in front of everyone. But I am of no value now that the repository has been found.

“Accommodations where?”

I whisper with a shakier voice that I would’ve liked.

“Somewhere more suitable for you.” Sebastian responds vaguely while he continues walking. He finally comes to stand in front of me. “You will be given some rules and you are expected to follow them.”

“And what rules are those?”

He was waiting for this question, I can tell. His head cocks and he seems to regard me like a cat who’s about to pounce on a mouse. I don’t shy away from that stare and I can feel the waves of complacency emanating from him. Bastard.

“Hogwarts belongs to Victor Rookwood and the wizards at his command. This is his home and as it is his right, he will host banquets and parties, and dinners with Ministry members or any other dignitaries of the magical community. You will attend those events and… “ He makes an intentional pause, and I can hear my own blood pulsating in my ears. “...make yourself useful.”

I’m going to be sick. Surely he doesn’t mean…

“I’m not going to whore myself for them.” I spit with hate.

I would rather die than let any of these men touch me. Defiling my body would be the ultimate punishment, and I realize in that moment that perhaps this is why they haven’t killed me yet. They want to break me a little more first.

Bile rises up my throat, burning me from the inside. Sebastian keeps betraying me one time after another and I just can’t bear it.

We were schoolmates years ago. Friends, ultimately. He found me when I was made aware of the trials and helped me. We spent entire months together, alone. Somewhere along the way I thought he started to actually care for me, romantically. Only to lead Rookwood straight to me and put me in chains.

In front of me, Sebastian seems to level his dark gaze with mine. It’s difficult to tell, but I think my crude words struck a nerve.

“Nobody has suggested that you do.” His tone comes with a note of restraint. Too tight for somebody that doesn’t care. My bones feel a little lighter inside my skin. “But I imagine you are aware of the commodity that you are. Which means a lot of men will pay Rookwood an extravagant amount of money to own you only for one night.” 

It’s like he has pulled the rug from under me. In the span of a few seconds I have become a thing. An object going to the highest bidder. I feel my face draining of all color. 

“And Rookwood is going to give me away so easily for a few Galleons?” I mutter in a trembling voice, trying to assimilate what it’s going to become of my life moving forward.

Sebastian doesn’t respond right away. Not until I stare back into his mask. It’s so hideous I want nothing more than to knock it off him.

“He doesn’t trust anyone with you.” He says flatly. “You are too important. Which is why, from here and on, you can only belong to one person.”

I’m breathless. Revolted with the idea.

“Rookwood.”

It’s my biggest nightmare. Worse than giving me to a dozen loyalists. Sebastian tortures me with another long silence. Almost like agreeing with my conclusion.

But I’m wrong.

“Me.” He states in the same monotone voice as if we are talking about the weather. That word slaps the oxygen out of my lungs. “You belong to me and to me only. Which it’s why I’m going to make something clear.” He saunters in my direction until we are at touching distance and my head tugs all the way back to glance at him. “You will do everything I ask of you. You will wear what I tell you to wear and eat what I tell you to eat. When you attend any of these banquets, you will do it only in my company. Your sole job is to make me comfortable, which includes pouring my drinks and serving my meals. Among other things.” I feel smaller and smaller with every one of his words and I’m able to contain a gasp just in time. Sebastian takes another step closer. “Is that understood?”

Even with fear coating my every nerve, the reaction is instant: I spit on his mask. It dribbles down the metal, where his right cheek should be. Slowly, he brushes my insolence with his gloved thumb, pulling most of it away. I can barely see a wet spot anymore. 

My bravery is short-lived when he grabs my throat and jerks me against him. I can’t even gasp because he gives me a warning squeeze while lowering his face towards mine. I refuse to look away.

I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.

I hate him.

“I hate you.” 

My tongue moves faster than my brain and I voice those thoughts out loud. My bound hands are tucked in between our bodies, not that I could make use of them. Sebastian pushes his face on the side of mine and the cold mask sends goosebumps up my spine. I can hear his breathing, muffled through the metal. His voice deep. Hoarse. Domineering.

“Be very, very careful.” The whisper is too cruel. “Because you are making it a game and I might just be happy to play.” I shiver, even when his warmth soaks into me. I can smell his scent, musky and masculine. “Especially when you are expected to share my room every night.” Another squeeze that cuts my air. And then he lets me go and I almost lose balance. Sebastian beckons at someone behind me with two fingers, and I can feel one of the loyalists approaching me before he grabs my arm. I think it might be Harlow. His fingers dig on my bare skin with violence. “Take her to my chamber.” Sebastian says but before the dark wizard can drag me away from the Great Hall, I see Sebastian’s mask angling at me. “Make sure my bed is warm before I get there.”

I’m speechless. Not a witty remark comes to me while Harlow pulls me away from the room and out the doors. He heads towards the East Wing of the castle, where my new prison is. The chains clang as I move.

The hero of Hogwarts.

And Sebastian Sallow’s whore.

Chapter Text

And I said hello Satan
I believe it is time to go
Me and the devil walkin' side by side

I have never been in this part of the castle. 

It belonged to the school teachers once. I suppose, if this is where Rookwood is going to take residence, he would want nothing but the best quarters. Even the corridors are more ample.

The faint light of the sunset slips through the stained-glass windows. Yellows and oranges and pinks and purples bleed on the ground and the colors blind me. I haven’t seen the sun in days after being permanently locked up in the dungeons of the castle. I hadn't realized it was still daylight outside when I was brought to the Great Hall. Thick, dark drapes and black banners were covering every frame.

My eyes hurt so I squint them a little.

In addition to that, any notion of time has been wiped out of me. It is always night time in my cell.

Or rather, was.

I try to capture in my head how the fading rays of sun feel on my skin but Harlow pulls me with him, his pace hasty and ruthless. His fingers have been digging on me since we left the hall, and I know they will leave bruises.

The exertion of that walk is making me dizzy. My head feels foggy and my vision is suddenly swamp with white dots that I blink away the best I can, considering the light is not my friend at the moment.

I don’t remember the last meal I had, although I wouldn’t consider anything they have provided for me here as one.

Bread and water. 

Bread and water.

Water.

More water.

Sometimes not enough water.

There was a slice of cheese once, moldy around the edges.

I ate it. And then I threw my guts out in a corner.

We reach the end of the corridor, coming to a halt in front of a big door. It’s made of solid wood. Harlow opens it and shoves me inside. I stumble on my feet, nearly falling but by some miracle I don’t.

I whirl to look at him with caution, but he doesn’t walk inside. I despise the way his lecherous gaze travels around my body. 

“Make sure to be ready for him.”

My heart stops. Harlow shows me a grin full of yellow teeth when he realizes his words have struck true. I don’t ask any questions that would further my unfavorable position in front of him. Displaying the same rebellion I showed in the Great Hall, I stare at the man with my head held high. 

A grimace twists his expression for a moment before he is grabbing the handle and slamming the door shut.

Leaving me alone in there.

It’s with that solitude that I allow myself to glance around, taking in the space. It’s bigger than any room I have been in at Hogwarts. It has the layout of a small apartment. There’s a poster bed with a sizable mattress, satin sheets. Forest green. 

The walls are covered in bookshelves full of thick volumes. If I have to guess, Sebastian ordered for the entire library to be brought into his bedroom. There’s a stone fireplace, a set of armchairs and a couch on one side. Two thirds of the floor are hidden by a thick carpet. There’s also a full body standing mirror in a corner of the room I make sure to avoid.

The dimmed light of the sun fights to squeeze through the windows and my first thought is to run towards one of them. We are in one of the towers, so my view is beautiful but impractical: I can’t escape through here. Not unless I want to fall to my death.

That if the window even opens.

I try. It doesn’t open. I use the alcove beneath to rest my knee and lean closer to the glass.

I can see the courtyard and the gardens from here. All the flowers, after the lack of care, have withered. Dead roses and peonies and tulips. I can only hope, with spring coming, that they find a way to flourish again. But it’s still cold out, and this winter has been hard. 

Behind the cobblestone paths, the Black Forest rises to receive me as sinister as ever. I can see mountains in the background. 

Once I come to the understanding that this is not my way out, I turn around towards the other doors. My shackles make a clashing noise when I throw my entire weight into one of the doors. It doesn’t open.

I head for the other one, repeating the same harsh movement. This one unlatches and I fall face first on the bathroom floor.

The checkered tiles are cold to the touch. There is a sink and a toilet. No shower, but there’s an immense marble bathtub that resembles more a small pool than something that should be in a bathroom. It’s filled with boiling water, judging by the heat that emanates from it. 

A part of me wishes nothing more than to cleanse myself of the dirt and grime. Descend the steps into the tub and wash away the remnants of the battle. 

I come to my feet, tempted to look at myself in the big, golden mirror that rests over the sink. But I don't. 

Looking at myself will do nothing for me except make me want to actually bathe.

And if they are going to do whatever they want with my body, I have no intention of making myself presentable.

With a new wave of anger, I march my steps to the hearth, searching on the mantel for something to light a fire. There is a box full of matches on the side. I wonder why, since Sebastian has a wand and can conjure flames without that sort of help.

Maybe he has left this for me, knowing that I don’t have access to any spells.

He should’ve known better.

I walk towards the bed. 

I haven’t slept on one in a long time. My body is full of aches from lying on the chilly, hard ground. This mattress looks quite comfortable, almost inviting me to lie on it. The sheets must be so soft and for a moment, I consider surrendering to this.

Instead, I light the first match.

And then I let it fall on the pillows.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I keep throwing matches on the bed, disgruntled when it doesn’t go up in flames as I hoped it did. The burning head does leave holes around the sheets and that is good enough for me. I have spent at least twenty minutes on this task, angry still, but very entertained with it. The matchbox is half empty by now.

I don’t care.

I light another one. 

This is my best source of illumination now that dusk has dropped its mantle over the castle. The colors coming through the windows are less vibrant. 

Just as I’m about to burn my next hole, the door of the room opens and Sebastian walks in.

He stops on the frame and our eyes meet. He is still wearing that stupid mask but I can see it angling at me. 

And I can see how his attention moves from his mattress back to me.

His next step is to close the door, refusing to pull his gaze away from where I’m standing. We are alone, in his room.

With a swift motion of his hand, Sebastian brings the fireplace to life, forcing a brighter light around us. He continues to stare at me.

“What exactly are you doing?”

His voice comes without any inflection. I expected him to be upset. Angry that I ruined his bed. 

“You asked me to warm your bed.” I explain with a saccharine smile. “I’m doing just that.”

I think I hear how he takes a big inhale before releasing it slowly. Such as somebody who is running out of patience. Sebastian prowls in my direction. He is cruel but he has never struck me.

His hand raises and I hold my breath. Instead of hitting me, he grabs the chain that connects my shackles together. After retrieving his wand from somewhere in his pockets, he points the tip towards the silver metal and taps on it.

The shackles unlock and then disappear.

They evaporate into thin air like they never existed, leaving behind the raw skin of my wrists. I rub them, too confused to feel the ache. 

“Go bathe.”

He orders, nodding towards the open door that leads into the bathroom before he walks away from me. The new distance between us gives me courage.

“So you can fuck me?”

“So we can go down and have supper.” He replies, unaffected by my words. I watch him slide the cloak down his shoulders, his back towards me. “I will leave something for you to wear outside the door.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Let alone wearing anything you give me.”

“You will. And you will do so wearing a dress or nothing at all.” The lack of emotion in his tone makes me bristle. He removes his wrist bands next. “Choose wisely.” 

The prospect of dining naked in front of them is enough to make me nauseous. I don’t have many options so I choose the lesser evil, mentally preparing myself for what’s to come after that.

With slow steps, I aim at the door into the bathroom, but I linger on the frame. Staring at Sebastian’s back.

I haven’t seen his face in so long…

It’s hard to reconcile that boy that swore to protect me amidst the trials from the man in front of me now. But I hate him. I know that much. 

My mouth opens to spew a well deserving insult at him but I decide against it. And then I walk inside the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The water is still hot, I determine after dipping a finger in it. I still don’t have it in me to glance at the mirror so I undress far away from it, dropping my clothes on the floor. I’ve lost weight. Where I had curves before, now it’s all sharp angles. 

My skin burns when I walk down the steps into the bathtub and submerge under the water. My body hurts but it feels so damn good. I spend the next thirty minutes scrubbing myself until my flesh glows red. I wring my hair before getting out, using one of the towels to dry all the dampness. I use that same towel to wrap it around my body and I just stand there and wait. 

Am I supposed to walk out like this? My eyes close momentarily and I let out a long sigh. 

Not knowing what’s waiting on the other side is nerve-wrecking so I walk slowly towards the door and open it. 

Steams pours out into the bedroom. The first thing I notice is the bed. 

The holes are gone, of course. It looks like it had looked when I first came in. There is something else on top of the sheets. 

Clothes.

Perhaps calling it that is being generous. 

My attire for that evening is a black chemise, satin. With a plunging V-neck and an open back. Lace trim, sleeveless. 

Something that one wouldn’t wear outside of their privacy. My cheeks heat with embarrassment at the same time I catch a movement on the corner of my eye. That door at the bottom of the chamber I wasn’t able to unlock before is wide open now. And Sebastian is staring at me from it, leaned against the frame. 

He is not wearing his mask anymore.

I have almost forgotten what he looked like underneath.

We stare at each other for hours, I think. I see his gaze gliding down and I track the path he creates. 

Sebastian doesn’t look at me like Rookwood’s loyalists do, lascivious or angry.

He is assessing me, taking me in with a flicker of disinterest. I don’t know if that’s better or worse than the other options.

“I’m not wearing that.”

I declare, gripping on my towel as if that’s going to protect me in the event he remembers he can gain control over me with physical strength only. 

His attention returns to my face with a slow blink and I can sense that dominant power rippling from him. The way his eyes darken, his eyebrows slightly dip and the lines around his mouth go hard. It’s very subtle, that change.

But it works, instigating some sort of fear in me that makes me want to lower my head. Although, I don’t do that. 

“Then leave your towel in here…” Sebastian drawls, obviously unaffected by the disobedience. “... and let’s go.”

I forget all about how scared I’m supposed to be, my nostrils flaring with malcontent. He gives me a wry side smile. Daring me to do it. Either way, I’m losing this battle.

Gods, I hate this man.

I can’t believe I let him fool me like that.

With a furious expression, I snatch the vulgar dress from the bed and come back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I’m horrified by it.

The negligee reaches me mid-thighs. Barely. If I were to bend over, nothing would go unseen. The fabric is very thin, alas I don’t dare to glance down, but I let my hair fall in front of me in an attempt to gain cover. When I march out of the bathroom again, Sebastian is waiting for me. He doesn’t shift his attention from my face.

In the months that took me to complete all the trials, he never displayed any major attraction towards me. There were stares and touches that lasted too long to be unintentional. We had moments where I thought there had been something and I had clung onto it.

It is clear now that it was just a pretense to get me to trust him, seeing as he regards me with the same interest he would do a twig on the ground. 

It almost feels ironic that Rookwood has given me to the only person in this castle that doesn’t seem to want me. He walks towards me with big strides carrying something in his hand. Something that shimmers under the flames. I catch a flash of gold and a chain.

Before I can dart out of his reach, Sebastian grabs the back of my neck and thrust me towards him, putting something around my throat. 

A golden collar, connected to a chain by a small hoop. A chain that he holds. 

My mouth parts to let out a gasp of alarm, reaching to take it off; it doesn’t give. There’s enough space for me to slip my fingers in between the metal and my throat and pull. But nothing happens.

Sebastian reaches for something around his neck. He dangles the long necklace he wears in front of my eyes, showing me the key.

The key to my freedom.

There’s a cold smirk on his face as he takes in my expression of disgust.

“You look much better now.” He coos.

“Fuck you.”

“Perhaps later, if you ask me nicely.”

The gall. My fists clench, my nails digging on my skin.

“I would rather…” 

I start with a hiss but he gives the chain a violent tug that sends me face first to his chest where I collide with a thud. Sebastian fists my hair with his other hand, forcing my back to arch. Pain shoots through me and I wince. I watch him through my eyelashes and the way he comes down on me. He gives me a warning stare.

“You would rather nothing.” He speaks slowly, deceptively gentle. “You appear to be under the impression that I’m yours to command. Let me remind you of your position.” He releases my hair but doesn’t give me time to process anything as he pulls on the chain and drags me across the bedroom towards the standing mirror in the corner.  Sebastian practically shoves me in front of it and he takes his place at my back, his chest becoming a solid wall that won’t let me escape. His palm wraps around my throat, right over the collar, and he forces my head up so our eyes can meet on the reflection. “Look.” He growls. I briefly stare at myself, at that image that I have been avoiding for fear of facing the truth. Glimpses of the girl I used to be. Sebastian watches me and something flashes in his gaze. Something that goes away too fast. His mouth hovers above the shell of my ear, where he continues speaking with a vicious tone. “Does this seem like you give the orders?” When I refuse to respond, he squeezes my throat, suppressing the flow of oxygen. I let out a gasp. “Answer me.”

“N-no.” I choked.

“No, Master.” Sebastian corrects me with a soft tone. “I’m your superior and you will address me as such.” 

My vision turns hazy and I desperately try to inhale but no air is coming into my lungs. I can’t fucking breathe. He has my life in the palm of his hand, rather literally. Again, I refuse to say the words. Sebastian’s fingers dig harder on my skin.

“N-no, M-master.” I repeat, weakly.

Just when I think I’m about to pass out, his hold eases and I gulp air in between coughs. He is the only thing keeping me on two legs while my vision starts to clear. I don’t see the boy I’m in love… the boy I was in love with.

All I see is Rookwood’s Commander, staring at me through the reflection. 

My owner.

My… Master.

Tears of anger form in my eyes but I blink them away, breaking eye contact. I lower my head, aware that in the end, it didn’t take much to break me after all. 

“Good girl.” I hear him say with a satisfied voice. “Let’s go.”

He tugs on the chain, leading me towards the door of the bedroom and I follow behind him, trying to keep a swift pace to match his big strides. I realize, as we walk through the corridors, that he never gave me any shoes. The stone floor feels unmercifully cold beneath my bare feet but I don’t say anything. I doubt he missed that little detail.

If I have to guess, this was another way to remind me that I’m just a toy. 

The way down feels eternal, especially because the Great Staircase refuses to cooperate at all so we have to take side stairs. A longer route.

I have never realized how chilly Hogwarts is if one isn’t properly dressed. I’m shivering behind Sebastian, the frosty air creating goosebumps all over my exposed skin. My hair is still a little wet, and I suppose that doesn’t help me, either.

On our way, we cross dozens of loyalists who stop to acknowledge their Commander with respectful head bows. I can see how differently they look at me after. 

I shudder.

I find it ridiculous that the only thing that’s stopping them from attacking me is the monster that walks in front. 

Too focused staring at his back, I don’t realize we are not going into the Great Hall, but the Central one.

Near the fountain sits a large table full of trays and plates with mountains of food. There are people sitting there already. Of course Rookwood decided that this was where he wanted to have his dinner, but I don’t see his face in the ones on the chairs.

I recognize some of them, though.

Boys that attended school with me and I haven’t seen in years. All of them with girls on their laps, talking to each other so loud, the walls tremble. 

My stomach twists in anxiety. A part of me wants to plant my feet on the ground but Sebastian must feel how inadvertently slow down because he yanks the chain a little harder than he had before. I practically step on his heels. 

“Well, well.” Someone down the table says as we approach. “Is this sweet treat for us?”

Chapter Text

I'm so used to sharing
Love only left me alone
But I'm at one with the silence

I found peace in your violence

“Is this sweet treat for us?”

I recognize that voice. And then I see the boy that it comes from. Adrian Pucey is reclined against his chair with a wicked grin on his face that seems to widen when he catches sight of me. Everyone is looking.

And I’m… I’m practically naked, dragged in front of them like I’m dessert. I feel a pang of fear, but also, anger. Sebastian assured me that nobody but him would touch me. Yet, here I a…

“No.” The response comes from Sebastian himself. His tone is so resolute, my thoughts stop weaving around my head in mid-sentence. He shifts towards me and I see the hard expression on his face while he unhooks the chain from my collar. “Go stand over there.” His head nods at the fountain. I won't be sitting at the table, it seems. And I won’t be eating, either. I don’t know why I expected otherwise. I do take his lack of interest to torture me as a win, so I’m already turning around when his hand shoots up and grabs my arm. Sebastian jerks me against him like I’m weightless and our gazes meet. His mouth curls upwards dangerously. “Do I have to remind you how to address me?”

The table is dead silent. I can feel the stares of amusement and the smiles of contentment that spread all throughout. I’m mortified. But I also think of myself as smart, so I do what a smart person would in a situation like that.

I swallow my pride and try to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“No, Master.” Still, I utter those words through gritted teeth, letting my hate for him shine in every syllable. 

Sebastian studies me a little while longer, his eyes flickering around my face before he releases my arm and allows me to walk towards the fountain. He, on the other hand, takes a seat, joining the group. He is the only one without a woman on his lap.

I’m the only one standing.

While they all exchange greetings, I take those seconds to examine the girls. They are all dressed scantily, even more than me. All wearing an identical collar as mine, but theirs is silver. Most have a strange smile, hugging and kissing the boys they are sitting on; whispering in their ears. As if they are on some sort of drunk stupor and the alcohol has made them friendlier. My heart lurches and I take the time to look at each one of their faces.

I don’t recognize any of them, although they all seem to be around my age. If they are witches, I should’ve met them when we were at school. Which means… They are muggle girls.

I wonder if they know they are an entertainment for a group of wizards that believe only in blood purity and status. I wonder if they know what’s been brewing in the magical community for the past few years. 

I had known, back when I was fifteen, that I could wield Ancient Magic. The rarest form of magic, of light, that has ever existed. But I was just a girl, preoccupied with school, classes and friends. Nothing was of consequence so I never imagined that someone else was interested in unleashing the power of the repository for evil purposes. When I finally asked for help, my mentors thought best to wait out completing the trials. 

If I didn’t go through with them, I would never know the exact location of the repository. And if I didn’t know, Rookwood wouldn’t either. Not even if he captured me and tortured me for it.

So I waited. For a long time, I waited.

But Rookwood never did. He incited rebellions and fanned the flames of a war. Raided villages and towns, captured wizards that opposed him and executed them very publicly. Everyone lived in fear. Nobody trusted anybody. You could never know if your neighbor was one of his loyalists or under the influence of an Imperius curse, tasked with spying on you. 

Dark times. Very dark times, those were.

I lived for years in a safe location, watching everything unfold in front of me. Powerless to do anything. Encouraged to do nothing.

Until I got tired of waiting for the killings to end and decided to take matters into my own hands. With my magic at full capacity, I could defeat Rookwood. If I completed the trials and found the repository, I could absorb that magic and we could win this war.

My biggest mistake was being too focused on the wolf in the woods, not realizing there was one already at my door. 

My eyes find Sebastian on the table and I watch him closely. He is surrounded by these boys as if he is just one more of them. I never knew anyone in this group very well. They are a few years older than me, so we didn't share classes. But I heard the whispers around the school. 

Some of them liked to prey on the most innocent girls, bartering in the fact that they were older and rich. And older and rich students were more popular.

Others loved cruel pranks.

Or to intimate schoolmates that were younger, whenever they found them alone in classes or corridors.

I was lucky enough to be out of their radar, but I observed, from afar.

The only one that never seemed to fit among them was Sebastian. Always quiet, with his nose down on a book. Always keeping to himself. I don’t think he ever stopped his friends from terrorizing other students but I also never saw him helping them. 

I remember being a little fascinated by him. Like one is with a riddle they desperately need the answer to. Eventually, they all left Hogwarts and I never really heard from them.

Now the old group is back together. As terrible as ever.

There’s so much food on the table, they cannot possibly be finishing any of it. My mouth waters and I find myself gulping with the scent of meats and roasted vegetables under my nose. The marble floor bites on my skin; I try to scrunch my feet as much as possible, putting my weight on the arch of one and placing the other on top. Shivers travel up my spine.

After Sebastian finishes acknowledging everyone, he slumps on his chair but doesn’t serve himself a plate. Someone approaches a goblet with a dark red liquid in it and he takes it, but I don’t see him drink. What he does is light up a cigarette, exhaling clouds of white smoke that linger around him in a wall of mist.

“Rookwood sent news to my father last week.” Adrian says out loud. The girl on his lap is playing with his shirt, tracing circles around the buttons. His arm is around her waist, lost underneath the table in a way that makes me think of his fingers touching her intimately. “You will be using our library for research?”

“Yes.” Sebastian replies in a monotone voice, spreading his thighs with a casual gesture. “Your family has the biggest one of all, after Hogwarts.”

“Is there something in particular you are looking for?” Another boy asks. I think his name is Higgs. His girl keeps feeding him grapes from time to time, and he makes a spectacle of biting and licking at her fingers. She giggles, enthralled by their little game. I feel my eyes rolling into my skull with revulsion. 

“I don’t discuss Rookwood’s private matters.” Sebastian takes a deep inhale of his cigarette, keeping it in his mouth for several seconds before releasing another cloud of smoke while he speaks with an unwavering voice. “If you are so keen to know, ask him yourself.”

It sounds a little like a challenge. Like Sebastian is daring Higgs to question Rookwood. But the other boy simply chuckles, showing his palms in a gesture that means to say ‘surrender’.

The atmosphere loses a bit of its edge. Someone down the table mentions the Ministry of Magic and how an inquisition is taking place. Of course, purging the main government building is crucial for their takeover. 

“Mallore fled the country two days ago.” Harper, a boy with bushy eyebrows and penetrating blue eyes says whilst approaching a goblet to his mouth. He takes a long sip. “My informers say he made it to France.”

“He won’t get asylum for long.” Pucey declares with a cruel smirk. “We are working on getting him back. My father already scheduled a sit down meeting with the French ambassador at the gala next week.”

“Is that the one with the pretty daughter? You know, the one with…” King, a boy that looks shorter and stockier than the rest, places both his hands in front of his chest and makes an obscene gesture. The other boys laugh. 

“Yes, that’s the one. She’s easy on the eyes, too.” 

“Maybe you should let Sallow have a talk with her and her father, instead.” Higgs suggests, nodding at Sebastian. “Didn’t you fuck her?”

“Once or twice.” Sebastian says. His middle finger strokes the borders of his untouched cup in slow, circular motions. There is some whistling in response. I don’t know why but I despise knowing that piece of information and I wish nothing but turn deaf to their conversation. “I don’t think her father liked that very much.” 

More disgusting chuckles, from everyone except Adrian. He makes a grimace. 

“Why don’t you leave something for the rest of us, Sallow?” Pucey wiggles his fingers around the table, pointing at everyone in what seems to be a comical gesture. But the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. “I would think the spoils of war you received were more than enough.”

“Oh, but he earned that.” King intercedes with a smirk. “Half a year undercover? That’s some good work.”

My stomach drops and I turn my eyes away from their table and towards the other one that is by the fountain, right next to me. On this table, which is quite smaller than the one they are sitting on, there are some desserts and an array of bottles of different colors and sizes. I don’t want to hear anymore. Not one more word.

I read the labels of the bottles to try and keep my mind busy, starting with the closest one to me.

“What we couldn’t do in years, he managed to do in six months.” Higgs raises his cup towards Sebastian, who hasn’t spoken a single word. His brown eyes gleam at that statement. Animal.

“The smartest thing the enemy could do…” He offers in a dangerous tone. “...is to convince you they are on your side.” 

Everyone seems to take those words as the best piece of advice they have ever heard. I, however, take them for what they are: a testament of his betrayal.

Harper also raises his cup at Sebastian, impressed. “Cheers.”

“What is Rookwood doing with her, anyway?” For the first time since I’ve been there, I feel Adrian’s full attention on me. I don’t raise my chin to meet it. “Isn’t it easier just to kill her?”

I feel my heart pounding in my chest, fighting to get out. I can’t help it. I look at Sebastian. My fate is entirely in his hands.

He takes the question with casual indifference and I don’t know what to make of it. 

“Why waste a good wine when you can drink it?” Sebastian barely gives me a side glance before he returns his attention to his cup. He sucks in on the cigarette, holding it in between his thumb and index finger. “For a few years, anyway.”

“A good wine, you say.” Harper repeats those words and I also notice his eyes glancing in my direction. One by one, the boys are looking at me and I feel like I want to be swallowed by the floors and disappear. “Are you open to a trade in? This one right here is bloody brilliant. “He points with his head at the girl on his lap, who seems oblivious to what might be implied. Or perhaps she doesn’t care. “The things she can do with her mouth alone…” 

“I don’t like sharing.” Sebastian drawls in response. 

“What about renting?”

The conversation is utterly humiliating and I can’t help but dig my nails on my palms, resenting every single word. I have been preparing for this situation, but having to hear it is infinitely worse than whatever I imagined. I should’ve known better. 

“Do you have any Galleons left to your name?” Sebastian’s eyebrows raise, angling his face at Harper. “As far as I can tell, you have spent your family fortune on alcohol and women.”

“I have some Sickles to spare.” Harper says with a mischievous grin that makes King snort. “Come on… do it for a friend.”

There’s a long silence. Sebastian seems to consider it and I want to shout at him, but he simply shakes his head. “Nah.” 

I exhale a breath of relief, closing my eyes momentarily. 

“You are going to bring her to the gala, I suppose.” Higgs mentions. “I bet Rookwood wants to parade her around a bit. Maybe she can help us get the Japanese Secretary in our pockets. He has been quite hard to tie laces with.”

“He likes pretty girls, I hear.” Adrian offers with a side smirk. “Maybe this one is going to need a Love Potion to get on his good graces.” The mockery in his tone makes my cheeks pink with shame, and the chortles from the rest of the table furthers it. He is goading me, I believe. Insulting me because he wants to see if he can get under my skin. The way his eyes keep leering at my bare legs reveal the lie. “What do you reckon, Sallow? Do you think she would need a Love Potion to charm that old man?”

Sebastian takes an eternity to answer. His gaze has been well away from me until that very moment, but I feel the movement coming and my breath hitches. Taking another deep inhale, he waits a few more seconds to release the white smoke forward, and then he turns his head towards me. So very slowly, it almost feels like he doesn’t want to.

Those brown eyes find me and I see them on my feet, following a path that heads north of my body. He does it sluggishly, like he is drinking in every inch of me. That look is as heavy as a touch, moving up, and up, and up. With measure.

Until finally, he reaches my face, and our gazes collide. 

We watch each other. 

I know that he must know exactly what I feel; it’s written all over my face. I can’t make out his expression, though. It’s vacant. But something does shimmer in his eyes.

Sebastian finally pulls his head away, facing forward. He continues to smoke, and I believe he has chosen to ignore the question. Maybe because he doesn’t find me attractive. Which it’s low in my list of priorities, but it makes me feel even more abashed than before. 

“No.” His answer makes my head snap up again. “She does not.” He makes a pause, scratching his chin. His eyes are already on someone else’s, as if he doesn’t want to dig any deeper on this. “What news of Avery?”

With that, the unwanted attention I have been given shifts towards Sebastian, instead. He braces the table with one hand, listening very intently to what Higgs shares with him. I’m tired, hungry and cold, and their exchange loses importance quite fast. I can only catch random words as my brain zooms in and out.

“...defected a week ago but we have located him somewhere around Rainham.” 

“Bring him alive.” Sebastian says. An order. “Rookwood is going to be very interested in what he has to say.”

I stare at the chocolate cake on the table, blinking slowly. My stomach keeps roaring while I stand there, forgotten. Fainting seems like a good option at the moment. But I don’t want to be unconscious in front of any of them. I can’t trust them.

“...find new teachers and open up part of the castle for new students.” Harper says, the conversation already streaming somewhere else. “My father will make a big contribution. Anything for the new generation.”

“Only selected students from pure-blood families, of course. None of those filthy mudbloods.”

Neither of the girls sitting on their laps stir at this insult. In fact, one of them is busy letting King’s tongue thrust into her mouth in a kiss that causes a new wave of nausea up my chest. 

“Any idea of what classes your uncle is going to allow?” Harper continues, looking at Sebastian. “I imagine Dark Arts and Potions.”

“None of that Muggle Studies rubbish.” Higgs is the one who replies.

But I’m busy analyzing something that was said. ‘Your uncle’.

Rookwood is Sebastian’s uncle. I can feel my pulse on my ears, bellowing. How was something like this a secret for so long? How could I not see it?

My gaze loses focus for a moment and I blink rapidly, trembling.

I was doomed from the start.

Unintentionally, I search for Sebastian again, trying to see in him anything that reminds me of Rookwood. Only to find him staring at something down the table with a somber expression. His jaw is clenched. I can easily discern the sharp lines. I follow his eyes.

He is glaring at Adrian.

And Adrian is looking at me. I believe that he has been looking at me for a while, now that I think about how quiet he has been while the conversation was taking place. I don’t bother hiding the grimace of aversion. 

“Why don’t you come here, mudblood?” Pucey says, pushing his goblet over the deep red table linen, in my direction. “I need someone to refill my wine.”

“She’s good over there.” Sebastian doesn’t raise his voice, but I can hear the command. The undaunting attitude. “If you want someone to refill your drink, use your own girl.”

“I just want to get to know our Ancient Magic wielder a little bit better. We won’t touch… but why deny us the pleasure of a conversation?” The dark-haired boy sends a malicious grin my way, ignoring Sebastian completely. “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?” I don’t respond to him. Harper and King let out a chuckle; Higgs snorts. Adrian takes my lack of answer as an invitation to keep going. He licks his lips like a cat after drinking cream. “How do you like to be fucked?”

That last question makes my breath catch. My face is burning now and I feel the tears of impotence filling my eyes. They laugh again. The smile on Pucey’s mouth falters slightly when I continue to stay quiet, directing at him a stare full of deadly promises.

“Don’t get wound up too tightly about it. I’ll tell you exactly how she likes it by tomorrow morning.” Sebastian says softly and it draws more derisive laughs. He puts the small cigarette out on an ashtray without even looking at me. His face is colder than the marble floors. Indifferent. Surely he would never dare…

“Odds are she hasn't got a clue where anything goes. Girls that look like that normally don’t.” King suggests.

I can’t believe this is what I have to listen to and act like I don’t care. I want to crumble on the floor for a moment but a primal instinct kicks in: run.

I could make a run towards the main door. If that doesn’t work, Hogwarts has dozens of exits I can try, but I need time.

I also don’t have magic, or good clothes, or shoes. My head turns to the side, where the small circular table with the bottles is. I weigh my options. If I do it now, they will definitely be able to stop me.

But if I do it in the middle of the night, when they least expect it…

My mind is working at a thousand miles per hour. There are knives around the table, left there to cut the dessert. If I could reach out and hide one somewhere…

The noise of a chair dragging across the floor makes me jerk my head ahead. I watch how Sebastian comes to his feet and saunters in my direction. All the air in the room is not enough to get me to breathe properly. Each step he takes, he grows taller and taller, my head tugging back to glance up at his emotionless face. I walk backwards until the back of my legs reach the stone wall of the fountain. I feel the water that pours from the mermaid statue fall in small droplets against my bare back. 

“You seem very lonely over here.” Sebastian purrs, loud enough that his friends can hear him. There’s something a little more sinister in his eyes than before. I don’t like how he glances down at me. I don’t like how the boys are staring with delighted smiles and mouth agape at this new display of power. “Maybe I should keep you company.” 

“Sebastian, please…” I beg in a quiet voice, feeling it break before I can even think of how to finish that sentence. 

His hands shoot up and he grabs me, yanking me against his body with a violent motion. I whimper in response, not expecting any of it. This change is so sudden, so uncalled for… Up until a minute ago he was acting like he didn’t want anything to do with me.

Now he is pushing the back of my hips to the circular table, trapping me between the edge and his chest.

His arms are around me, keeping me in place. 

“If you call me by my name again, there’s going to be consequences you won’t like.” His mouth becomes insistent around my cheek, where he continues to speak against while trying to slide his body in between my parted legs. “You are going to call me Master, even when I fuck you. Especially when I fuck you.”

The first tears fall down my cheeks while I try to wrestle out of his grasp, but I’m not strong enough. Sebastian’s chest is a concrete wall. Just when I think he is going to slip a hand down my thighs and touch me there, the massive double doors of the Central Hall open up. Several men walk inside. I watch them over Sebastian’s shoulder, as he is completely hunched over me. 

They all wear the same dark clothes and their cloaks, a sign that they had been traveling. Rookwood is at the front of the group and he is walking straight to us. 

My despair grows bigger and bigger, especially with how pleased he seems to be that I am in such a precarious position.

“Well, well.” He says softly, coming to stand at a short distance where Sebastian and I are located, as his eyes glide around my face full of tears. “Right here in the open, nephew?”

Sebastian’s mouth is still pressed around my hair, where it looks like he is sniffing on the scent of the shampoo I used that evening. He appears very reluctant to pull away from me to send a side smile over his shoulder at his uncle. 

“You are right.” He agrees, but doesn’t quite unscrew his body from mine. Not even when it’s clear I’m trying to push him away. “I’ll take her back to the room. If you hear screaming…” Sebastian finally breaks the tight hold and takes a step back. “...I don’t need saving.”

Everyone howls with laughter. I catch a glimpse of Rookwood’s utter satisfaction before I’m being hauled down the steps of the hall by his Commander, towards the small corridor that will take us upwards. To his room. 

Behind me I hear how Pucey and the other boys greet Rookwood, inviting him to dine with them. I’m too far away to make out his answer, but I have to assume it’s positive.

It feels like these dinners occur quite often amongst them.

I wish I could say I’m glad I can miss it, but the alternative is horrific. 

In the seconds I spent crafting a plan that wasn’t going to work, a switch had turned off in Sebastian. 

He looks so possessed by the idea of bedding me that I can barely think about the fact that I have just seen Rookwood for the first time in days. Weeks, perhaps. He has my magic. He practically rules this country.

And I know for a fact that he would love nothing more than to see my spirit shattered to pieces. 

I’m sure his nephew is going to take care of that.

Sebastian has taken hold of my arm and he forces me into a ruthless pace next to him. Forgotten is the chain to jerk me around, like that method is too slow for his taste. I don’t dare to blatantly look up at him but I steal a quick glance sideways. There are tears still in my eyes, blurring my vision. But I notice he has lost the smirk and his face is a mask of impassiveness. 

I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.

By the time we make it into his chamber, my heart plunges into my stomach. I’m going to be sick. 

He hurls me inside the room, walking after me. And then, closes the door behind him. 

It’s significantly warmer inside, but that doesn’t stop me from shuddering. I can’t look back at him, aware that he is not moving, either. What is he waiting for?

A thick silence stretches within those walls. Thick and heavy, charged with tension. The irony, again, is that I would have given this to him willingly not that long ago.

And he didn’t want it.

I don’t want to anymore.

And now he is going to just… take it.

But Sebastian is not moving. 

Piling up some courage, I decide to shift around and take a feeble look at him. He is leaning back on the closed door, watching me gasp for air with bleak eyes. For several seconds, all he does is that. Watch me. Observe me.

Study me.

“Get something to eat.” His voice pierces through the stillness, striking a cord in the middle of my chest. “And go to sleep. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Without offering an explanation, he pushes himself from the frame and walks to the end of the chamber, towards that other room I haven’t explored yet. He swings the door open and walks inside, slamming it shut after him. I jump at the loud noise.

But then there is silence again, and this time is just me. The flames in the hearth crackle.

I realize there is a silver tray on the nightstand that wasn’t there when we left. Still confused, I slowly stroll towards it like it’s going to grow teeth and take a bite out of me. There is a bowl of chicken and rice soup in there, and a banana already cut in small pieces. Foods that should be easy to digest after not having eaten substantial meals for a long time. There is also a glass of water to accompany it.

I stare down at the bowl for a very long while. Until my nerves calm down and my face dries of tears. Mercifully, there was no bread on the tray.

My stomach reminds me that I’m close to starvation, but I don’t touch the food. I don’t get in the bed, either. I search for my old clothes, the ones I had left on the bathroom floor. During the time Sebastian and I have been gone from the room, someone has washed them and neatly folded them on the counter. 

I don’t think twice before getting rid of the negligee and put the pants on, feeling more protected now. I put on the long sleeve shirt after.

And then I sit in a corner of the bathroom, leaning my back against the wall. 

I spend the entire night there. 

Chapter Text

Tell me why do I feel so free when I'm dead?
Oh, when I'm tied on to your short leash.

Seven Months Ago

The cloak I wear is soaked in the cold October rain. The ledge of the tavern I’m currently under doesn’t do much to protect me from the downpour of water that falls from the sky. The storm has been brewing for a few days, choosing that night out of all nights to wallop me. I grab the map I have been using to orient myself from my bag, examining the name of the town I’m at. 

Camber reminds me of Hogsmeade but a little more rustic. It’s definitely more remote, in a valley in the middle of mountains. A wizards village, that only people in the magical community can find. 

Studying the map, I trace with my finger my current position and the path I have to walk to reach the location of the first trial.

It’s far. I have days ahead of me and I have no clue of how to accomplish any of this by myself, but I’m determined.

I resent how much I have been sheltered by the people trying to overthrow Rookwood. I have been kept in a safehouse for years and nobody bothered to show me how to become something more than a burden.

Nobody bothered to prepare me.

I can only hope it’s not too late.

Surveying my surroundings, I narrow my chances of food to the only inn of the village. The sign that hangs outside of the door reads “The Stomping Hippogriff”. Not… promising, but I need something to eat. Shoving the map back into my satchel, I ran across the cobblestone road towards the tavern, using my hands as a shield for the rain. When I walk inside the room, I’m very grateful to see it half empty and swallowed in darkness. 

I’ll be able to conceal myself better that way. 

I shake the water out of the hood of my cloak but I don’t pull it down, approaching the counter at the end of the tavern. There are a dozen tables and only half of them are occupied. The witches and wizards sitting on them are talking to each other in whispers. I sense some eyes turning my way so I lower my chin until I come to stand in front of the innkeeper, an old man with a bald head and a long beard that reaches his torso.

“Good evening.” I mutter, in greeting.

“Evening, lass.” The wizard continues the task of cleaning glasses with a rag. I know he could leave it to magic, but perhaps he is bored and wants something to do. He peers at me with curiosity. “Room for the night?”

“I…” I hum, daring to steal a glance behind me. There are people on the table that are still staring in my direction so I quickly shift my face back to the man. “No, no room. I just need some food.”

“Food, you say.” The innkeeper sets the glass and the rag down on the counter, rubbings his palms on the dirty apron he wears. “The tavern elf was making some porridge before. I’ll see if there’s some left.” 

He walks away into the kitchen before I can tell him I loathe porridge so I just stand there, exhaling a tired breath. Maybe I could reconsider the room, so I don’t have to sleep at the mercy of the elements any longer. While I get those moments of privacy, I let my gaze wander around the tavern, observing the bottles of different sizes and the carafes and flagons sitting on the shelves behind the bar. There is dirt and grime everywhere, I realize when I tap my fingers on the counter, dragging a layer of dust with the movement. 

I wince and let my arms down next to me. 

I keep staring around, something catching my eye near the windows. 

There are smaller tables there that only seem fitting for one person. I examine the one most tucked away in the corner, where the light doesn’t seem to reach at all. I think there is someone there, sitting on the chair sideways, using the wall as a backrest. 

Yes, there is definitely someone there. I see the outstretched legs crossed by the ankles in a casual pose.

I’m suddenly disturbed by the notion that I’m being watched. Not like the other patrons of the tavern have looked at me.

No. I’m being scrutinized. 

My eyes squint, trying to get a clearer view of whoever is sitting at the table, but all I’m able to discern is the shrouded silhouette. Shadows gather under the hood, concealing their identity. I’m almost positive it’s a man.

I gulp, looking away from him. Maybe I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t have done this.

The doors of the tavern swing open again, and the room goes silent. Quieter than it did when I marched inside. I peer over my shoulder to see the group of men that enter. I recognize some of them from the pictures on the Daily Prophet that I have seen laying around in the safehouse: Snatchers.

My head snaps forward and I curse myself for being so stupid. Two weeks on the road and I manage to cross paths with people that would sell me out for a bag of corn. How could I have such bad luck?

I can’t hear anything over the blood that roars in my ears. 

“A round of Firewhiskey for my friends and I.”

Someone in the group orders out loud and just then I realize the innkeeper is back behind the counter again. He nods in acknowledgment.

“Of course, sir.”

Before he can send unwanted attention towards me, I slip away through one side of the room, using the lack of light and stealthy movements to aim towards the door. Beneath my robes, I clutch my wand with a firm grip, hoping I don’t have to use it. 

I manage to go outside unnoticed. At least, I believe I am.

Without looking back, I initiate a hasty pace, ignoring the storm that brews above me. 

“Girl.”

A voice calls behind me but I ignore it. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and just when I’m about to break into a run, figures step in my way. There are five of them, with the one I recognized from the newspaper in the front of the lot. He has a scar that goes across his face, from his left eye down to his chin. 

For the first time, I experience what it feels like to be surrounded by something faster, stronger and arguably smarter. 

That distinct feeling of helplessness takes a hold of me, sheltering inside my chest.

“Where are you going so fast?”

At the taunting in such question, I bring down my head until I only see the paving stones and their boots. Perhaps if I show humility they would leave me alone. A fool’s thought, really. 

“To meet someone.” I take pride in my unwavering lie. 

“And what type of someone would let a thing like you wander around at night in these parts?” They seem to enclose me from every side, so I just walk backwards until I feel a wall behind me. Bad move. “What’s your name?”

“Amelia.” I blurt out the first name that comes to mind. It belongs to a woman from The Order, who sometimes visits the safehouse. 

The loyalist examines my expression, taking in my uncontrollable trembling. He reaches into the pocket of his cloak and pulls something out. Something that looks like a picture. A picture of what, exactly? His penetrating gaze continues to flicker between me and the photo, and I go paler by the moment. It can’t be a picture of me. I haven’t taken one in years, and The Order has made sure to destroy anything like that. They wanted to keep my identity as much of a secret as they were able. 

Before I can open my mouth to tell them I’m not whoever they are looking for, the snatcher that seems to be in charge nods at someone and I feel a quick hand yanking the hood out of my head. The rain comes down on my face, fast and hard. A slow, cruel smile spreads on that scarred face. 

“Ah, I knew I recognized that lovely face. What a handsome reward our Lord is going to pay us when we deliver you to him.”

Panic floods my senses. I’m overpowered but I also don’t plan on going quietly. If I have to die, perhaps it is best to do it here, fighting them. Trying, at least. All five wands raise in my direction with a menacing motion before I can even think of pulling out mine.

Suddenly, I forget all of the spells I learned back at Hogwarts and freeze in place. I curse myself for allowing the Order to keep me untrained and out of the way.

I need help.

I need help.

Someone, please, help me.

Something moves in the shadows behind the Snatchers, catching my eye. Lightning strikes and I forget all about them when I catch the silhouette of an animal. A beast, perhaps, moving in the dark with slow, predatory steps. A pair of eyes glow green. And yellow. And white.

Iridescent, I determine.

Eyes that belong to a creature of the night.

I let out a gasp that makes the men turn around to face what I’m staring at. Who I’m staring at.

There is no monster. Just a man, several inches taller than the ones in front of me, pacing a little closer to where we are. I believe my head is playing tricks because he wasn’t there a second ago. He, too, wears a cloak, with the hood over his head and a dark brown scarf around his face that concealed his identity beyond recognition. Lightning flashes, and the glowing eyes become brown.

Deep brown.

I have a feeling these are the same eyes that were studying me inside the inn.

“Nothing to see here.” The Snatcher with the scar grunts at the newcomer, aiming his wand dangerously at him. “Keep moving.”

He doesn’t move, feet solidified to the ground. Those strange eyes shine again, and the five men have the good sense of appearing agitated. I am, too. Maybe even more than before, after I consider the fact that I’m about to trade a monster for another.

Now that they aren’t looking at me, I press my back flat on the surface of the stone wall behind me, trying to squeeze my body through any opening I find. Five against one is an unfortunate number.

“She comes with me.”

Arrogance, dominance and defiance, all mix together into one single sentence. His voice, despite being muffled by the scarf, still comes without an ounce of fear. That cloaked head levels until the lethal gaze promises a terrible death. 

“Does she belong to you or something?”

That question makes me feel sick. 

The stranger leans forward, and though I can’t see it, there is an unkind smile hiding behind the dark fabric that covers his face. His eyes glimmer under the storm once more, water drizzling around the hood.

“Or something.” It’s all he utters before that vicious gaze shifts towards me, at last. “Close your eyes.”

An order.

I am as motionless as a statue; a voice in the back of my head is telling me it’s best if I watch. I need to see. But I follow his command against my better judgment and my eyelids flutter close. A second later, something fast moves next to me. Around me. There is a commotion followed by muffled whimpers. 

Two seconds passes. 

Three.

Five.

Weights drop on the ground with loud thuds, and then there is just silence. My heartbeat is so head-splitting, I’m dizzy and not even the wall behind me offers me enough support. After the stillness stretches for what it feels like an eternity, I dare to finally look. My vision is a little blurry at first and it takes a little while to make out the silhouettes in the darkness around me.

As the thought of running crosses my mind, a new lightning bolt pierces through the sky, momentarily showing me what I have mere feet away. Or, more so, what I don’t have: the Snatchers are gone.

Only one figure stands in front of me. A figure with shiny eyes. He extends a gloved hand in my direction and I flinch. But he doesn’t move it, letting his hand linger in the air with patience.

“Come with me.” 

That deep voice urges me but I hesitate. I stare at his fingers, trying not to swallow too loud. He managed to eliminate five Snatchers. Five, in seconds. But who is he and how could I trust him? For all I know, he is leading me straight to Rookwood. Although, resisting him seems futile if that’s the case. I’m quite obviously no match for him. 

“I can’t Apparate.” I manage to say with a shaky voice. Realizing this, I attempt my best to clear my throat and try again. “I mean, I shouldn’t. I was… told it leaves residue behind.” He narrows his eyes at me and I blush. “Traces of my magic that can be tracked and led to me.” 

“Then we better start moving.” The stranger drawls with a soft voice. His calm demeanor, or what I can gather from it, seems inappropriate for a situation like this. “More are going to come where those came from. Soon enough the whole country will know where you are.”

“Were you bitten by a werewolf?” I blurt out. Out of all the questions I should be asking, this one is the first one that shoots out of my mouth. The man stares down at me, finally lowering his hand. He must think I’m stupid for asking this but I hurry up to elaborate. “Your eyes, they…”

“No. I was not bitten.” He cuts me off, already disengaging from the conversation to turn around and scan the surroundings. Perhaps looking for any other threats.

“Who are you?”

He pauses for a moment and I swear I see the muscles of his jaw clench through the scarf around his face. He is still looking away from me, his towering figure only a few feet away. Lighting strikes one more time and I look up at the brown eyes. I was too distracted before but my brain is finally putting thoughts together.

I know these eyes. I know this voice. I know this man.

With a single motion, he pulls down the fabric, facing in my direction. The name that I have guessed in my mind and the person I have in front of me match. 

“Sebastian Sallow…” I mutter, my body sinking on the wall and I don’t know if it’s relief or shock. “You are alive.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” His voice drips sarcasm. “Were you mourning me?” 

“I haven’t seen or heard from you since Hogwarts… I figured…” The thought lingers in my mouth, where I don’t dare to put it into words. “Lots of people have disappeared in the past few years. They haven’t made it back.”

I asked someone in the safehouse about Sebastian once out of morbid curiosity. Nobody had heard that name in years, so I made my peace with his death. I did it with a lot of people, teachers and schoolmates. Sometimes their passings were covered by the magical newspapers, but we learned to dig graves without bodies in our heads.

Him not only being alive but finding me makes me feel a sliver of hope for the first time in months. 

I take the opportunity to study the boy in front of me more closely now. He looks almost the same as how I remember him, and yet, there’s something unequivocally different I can’t put my finger on. He stands a little taller, perhaps. Leaner. 

Experienced. 

Sebastian must be reading into my emotions because his expression softens faintly. It’s very minimal and I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t been already looking at him.

“We’ll discuss this later.” One more time, his hand stretches in my direction. “We need to leave now.”

I don’t hesitate before I entwine our fingers.

Present

I open my eyes slowly with my hand clutch into a tight fist. The dream had been so real… Not a dream.

A memory.

Light filtrates through the windows of the room, making me blink several times to acclimate my vision to the brightness. I try to recall the day before, the echoes of it now flooding my head and burying the dream into piles of my new reality.

Last night was my first time attending a dinner with Sebastian. A dinner where he humiliated me and so did his friends. A dinner I witnessed but wasn’t part of, remaining on the side while they ate and laughed and revelled in my misery. When Sebastian dragged me out of it, I really thought he was going to do the unspeakable to me, only to vanish into the next room and leave alone with the uncertainty. He never came back out, but I wouldn’t know, because I fell asleep on the bathroom flo…

I quickly sit up when I finally remember that I’m supposed to be lying on the ground, not tucked underneath the covers on Sebastian’s bed. I look around with confusion, trying to recall how the hell I got here.

The door he went in last night is closed. Is he still in there? Did he carry me to the mattress? I stare at the empty side of the bed, the one that is supposed to be his side. The sheets look untouched. He didn’t sleep with me.

My fingers move inadvertently to the golden collar around my neck. Still there as a reminder that I’m his property. I drag my body through the mattress and take quick steps towards the door to the hallway. I already know it’s not going to open but I still try, pulling on the handle with effort. That motion alone drains me and my vision fills with white spots.

A loud growl comes from my stomach, announcing what I already know: I’m famished.

And I’m going to faint if I don’t eat anything. For a split second I consider not eating again. Not after what happened last night. I could die a slow death, but less painful than the alternative.

I could… give up. 

They already won, didn’t they? 

This room must be magically enchanted to read my mind because a new silver tray with food materializes on the nightstand. Maybe whoever sent it was waiting for me to wake up. Like the night before, I approach it with tentative steps, peeking at its contents from a distance.

There’s bacon and eggs and sausages and fried tomatoes. It smells so delicious I find myself considering eating. 

I don’t.  

Instead, I press my back on the wall and let my body slide down until I’m sitting on the floor. I brace my knees in the endeavor to keep myself warm. The fire is completely out and the sun is not strong enough to heat up the chamber.

Exhaustion courses through me, but just when I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I hear steps in the corridor. The door of the room opens up and my captor marches inside. Sebastian is wearing his cloak. And that mask.

He seems like he is coming from somewhere or prepared to travel, and my stomach clenches with the notion. Heading to torture someone… or arriving from doing that very thing. I can’t make out his expression or his eyes beneath that hideous cover, but I notice how his face angles from the untouched food on the nightstand to me, sitting on the floor again.

With a quiet movement, he shuts the door close behind him and prowls in my direction until he is just a couple of feet away. My neck hurts from looking up so I don’t, stealing glances through my eyelashes, wary of what he might do to me just because.

“Is the food not to your liking?”

His voice is so smooth…Deceitfully smooth. The muscles around my legs tense at his proximity and I bring my knees harder against my chest. 

“I’m not hungry.”

I breathe out barely, turning my chin to the side so he can see how little I want to interact with him. Which ends up not being a deterrent to Sebastian, who slowly comes down into a crouch in front me, until our faces are almost leveled. He still stands taller than me. His mask doesn’t gleam under the sunlight, as if it’s swallowing all the brightness in the room.

He stares at me, his head slightly tilting at an angle as if it’s appraising me. Appraising his little trophy.

“You are forbidden to die.”

Bile rises up my throat and my face twists into a grimace at the ease he delivers that statement with. 

“What are you going to do? Torture me into eating?” 

“I don’t torture women.”

“No, you just put a collar around their necks and make them your slaves.”

He continues to survey me for such a long time that I lose the battle of not looking back at him. Our eyes meet. I think they do, at least. I can’t really tell.

“I will force feed you if I have to.” 

Sebastian utters in a dangerous tone but I don’t shy away from it. I lift my chin, letting him see the hate.

“And here I thought it was my job to feed you.”

“A job you are doing very poorly at the moment.” I scoff but I don’t answer. I don’t want to continue giving him the satisfaction of getting one over me. I see his hand reaching out and I flinch immediately. He notices but doesn’t stop the motion, although I believe he shows his gloved palm and slows down in a stupid attempt to make me think he is not going to hurt me. What he does makes my breath catch: his fingers find a strand of my hair, and I know perfectly well what strand it is, and he twirls it around the tips with treacherous gentleness. “What is your perfect Order going to think when they find out you are choosing to give up while they are actively working to rescue you?”

Those words strike all the anger out of me. My lips parts and my eyes widen in complete surprise, almost forgetting that Sebastian is seeking entertainment by playing with my hair. 

“They are trying to rescue me?” Gobsmacked, I repeat those words.

He finally lets go of the strand and laces his hands together, letting them hang in between his thighs.

“Unsuccessfully.” Sebastian rasps, his head turning to one side while he glances around the room, as if the Order is in there with us. “But who knows? Maybe one day they’ll manage to do something right and save you from me.”

My eyes narrow. He is mocking me.

“Do you really think they will?” I adopt the same wry tone he uses.

Sebastian returns his attention to me, slowly.

“No.” A long exhale deflates my chest at his resolution. “I don’t.”

“Isn’t it easier to just let me die?” 

I dare to ask in a small voice. I feel defeated, perhaps less than before knowing that there are people out there that are still fighting for me. Sebastian doesn’t answer for several seconds, and just when I believe he is not going to, the reply finally comes.

“Yes.” 

But he doesn’t elaborate. I clear my throat, encouraged to keep asking questions by this sudden generosity to communicate with me.

“Did you carry me to bed last night?” All I get is a deep humming sound that indicates a positive answer. “Why?”

“I do remember telling you it is your job to warm it. So I expect you to be there after supper.”

“Warm it for who? You didn’t spend the night.”

“Is this you asking me to?” He poses with a leathery-like voice that makes me want to slap him. Before I do, he draws himself to full height. “Don’t concern yourself too much about it. I’ll be back tonight.”

“I hope you don’t.” I spit out without looking up at him.

The thick rug swallows the sound of his heavy boots walking away from me and towards the door. As Sebastian reaches for the handle, he lingers for a moment and sends a glance over his shoulder.

“Eat your food.” He commands with the same tone he uses to speak to Rookwood’s loyalists. I open my mouth to curse him a little too late; he sees the intention, so he adds. “You are going to need strength for supper tonight. Rookwood will be joining us.”

Sebastian punishes me with that information before he leaves the room, abandoning me there. 

Chapter Text

Tonight we're second-guessed again
Let me wrap the chains
Addicted to the pain, oh

Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now

I stay on the floor for several minutes well after Sebastian marches out of the room. Shivers shoot up my spine when his words echo in my mind.

We are having dinner with Rookwood.

Something tells me it is going to be a lot harder than what I endured last night. 

However, there’s a new spark of hope being ignited within me. The Order is trying to rescue me. They haven’t given up.

After weeks in the dungeons of the castle, cut off from the world, I imagined this was it and there were no more plans to overthrow the dark wizards. Rookwood has the repository now, as far as I know.

But they haven’t given up on me.

Perhaps I shouldn’t either.

Slowly, I come up to my feet, using the wall to support myself. A new wave of dizziness dulls my senses but I push through, heading towards the window. I use the alcove to lean on and peer through the glass. The grounds of the school still look dead. Nobody cares for them because nobody cares. 

I can hear the caws of birds right outside; crows, I believe.

Below me, there’s that empty bed of flowers. 

I stare at it with longing before I notice there are people in the courtyard. I see witches and wizards walking in all directions, some carrying books inside or having piles of old volumes levitating behind them in a straight line.

It seems to me that they are researching something, but what? What could Rookwood be looking for in those books? I remember Sebastian mentioning last night that he wanted access to Pucey’s personal library, but the conversation is too muddled up in my head now. If only I had been paying more attention.

Maybe I can gather enough information for The Order once they rescue me. If… they rescue me. Sebastian seemed sure that they wouldn’t, or rather, couldn’t.

The devil himself stands in the courtyard.

I notice his motionless figure while people around him continue their tasks. He stands tall, supervising the scene that surrounds him for several seconds. While he watches the loyalists, I watch him and wonder. Wonder when, in what part of the road, he stopped being human and embraced the monster that he was.

A new figure joins Sebastian in the courtyard, significantly shorter than him, but also wearing that mask they all share. I don’t recognize the loyalist from this far, but they seem to be exchanging words. The dialogue is short, which makes me think Sebastian simply gave an order and there was no room for arguments. 

The loyalist walks off with very big strides towards the castle and disappears from my view. I continue staring at Sebastian’s back. 

He adjusts the gloves on his hands with a graceful movement, taking a step forward. Readying to leave. 

It’s like he senses that I’m looking, somehow. The gesture is slow, almost giving me time to push away from the glass, before his head turns and he glances over his shoulder. Upwards.

Straight to the window. 

There’s a considerable distance in between us. He is wearing a mask.

Yet, the look we share feels like none of it matters. It unsettles me. He unsettles me.

But I don’t let him see it.

It’s him who looks away first and carries on with his pace towards the edge of the courtyard. He vanishes into a cloud of black smoke. Tendrils of it are left behind, swirling in the air like ink in water.

It’s like I’m spellbound to the window, where I remain for several minutes, watching the exact same spot where he had disappeared. My eyes finally wander around and I see the door to the unknown room I have yet to discover. Immediately, I jump to my feet and head towards it, grabbing the handle and pushing with all of my strength.

It doesn't give.

I would love nothing more than to kick the wood open but I doubt it would make a difference. I’m also not in my best physical condition.

A knock on the main door makes me freeze for a moment. I turn to stare at it, thinking that I might have imagined it.

But there’s another knock right after, soft and polite.

If it’s one of Rookwood’s loyalists, I have no desire to invite them in. But something tells me they wouldn’t knock like that. 

I walk towards the door and grab the handle, studying it more carefully. Taking a deep breath, I pull.

And it opens.

On the other side, there’s a young girl wearing a pastel pink dress with straps around her slender neck, almost hiding her collar. Her shoulders and arms are bare and I feel terrible because she must be cold to the bones. If that’s the case, she doesn’t show it. 

Instead, she gives me a warm smile that makes little dimples on both her cheeks. Her hair is black, pinned away from her face and falling in soft waves over her chest, and her skin has the same color of the wheat under the sunlight. 

“Good morning, miss.” The girl says in a melodic voice. Without waiting for an invitation, she steps inside the chamber and closes the door behind her. “I’m Aanya.” 

I think I have been staring at her with my mouth wide open, so I remember to close it and clear my throat, attempting to appear less shocked than I feel.

“Hello, Aanya. I’m…”

“I know who you are, of course.” She chirps. Without missing a beat, she aims towards the hearth and grabs the box of matches from the mantle. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

In silence I stare while she kindles the fire. Soon enough, flames grow under her expert hands, sending warmth into the room. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just…” I stutter, trying to come up with a gentle way of asking the question but don’t find any, so I just blurt it out. “Who are you and why are you here? I mean… Why are you allowed in here?”

“I’m allowed everywhere in the castle.” Aanya says without losing the smile. After a job successfully done, she comes up to her feet and heads to the unmade bed. To my utter horror, she shakes the sheets, straightens the cover and then proceeds to fluff both pillows, even when one of them has been untouched. “I belong to Harlow, but my Master has told me I should come visit you today. He thought you needed company. Isn’t that lovely of him?”

I can’t pinpoint what makes me more nauseous: Aanya going around the room making sure it’s tidy while I just stare, or how little affected she seems to be when referring to herself as Harlow’s property. In fact, I think she is quite content about it. 

“They let you go anywhere? Aren’t they worried that you might escape?” 

I ask with caution but she simply lets out a soft giggle. 

“Why would I escape? I like it here.” In her job of making the bed, Aanya glances at the tray still sitting on the nightstand. Her movements slowly come to a halt. “You haven’t eaten your breakfast yet.” I don’t know what to say so I simply shake my head. She sighs greatly, almost like a mother does when her child refuses to eat, and she walks around the mattress towards the tray before bringing it over to the tea table that faces the fireplace. “Come, come! You need your nourishment. You are all bones, poor thing.”

Reluctantly, I walk towards her but don’t sit on the couch. I examine Aanya a little closer. She must be around my age, like all the girls I saw the night before, but I don’t recognize her. 

“Are you a witch?” I ask softly, eager to know more about these other girls that walk around the castle in chains, just like me.

“A witch?” Aanya chuckles again, as if I have said something amusing. “Of course not. I’m just a girl.”

I frown a little. “How did you end up here?”

She seems to consider my question for a long time but ultimately shrugs. “I’m not quite sure.”

“You don’t remember?” I push with too much urgency. “What about a family? Do you have one?”

“A family?” That smile that has been on her face since she walked through the door slowly fades. Her eyes seem absent, as if she is in deep thought. The change is so abrupt, I regret asking. But then Aanya’s mouth curves upwards again. “No, miss. Just me. My Master is my only family.”

I’m so taken aback, I feel as if those words have slapped me across the face. I realize then what this is. What was done to her: a memory spell or a Confundus charm. Only either one of those would have affected her mind so significantly. 

Whatever the case, Aanya appears not to be fully there.

Conflicted feelings swarm me with that knowledge. Perhaps it is a mercy.

If I was her, I would also…

No. 

I would rather be lucid through the pain than embrace my chains unwillingly. My gaze softens on her and I seek for a spot on the couch, next to small body. Aanya regards me with that big, encouraging smile. 

She doesn’t know me but I failed her in so many ways. Giving up is not an option anymore. Not for me. Not to make time for The Order to find me.

But for her.

For all of these women.

I return her smile and then stretch my fingers towards the bacon that sits on the plate. It’s cold to the touch but it doesn’t dampen the taste. 

Never have I tasted such delicious things, I think to myself while I practically devour the food. Within minutes, all is gone.

“I’m happy you have decided to eat.” Aanya says happily next to me. “Your Master will be pleased.”

“He is not my Master.” My tone is too brisk when I answer, wiping my fingers down with a napkin. “I really don’t care what pleases him.”

“Why not? He is so handsome…” I give Aanya a sidelong glance, taking in her distracted expression, and I try not to roll my eyes at it; she isn’t thinking clearly, after all. “A lot of the girls would’ve rather belonged to him.” A rumble of complaint forms in my chest but I don’t say anything. She notices. I can feel her curious eyes on me. “Do you not like him?”

“No.”

“Is he not good?”

I have to pause because I believe she isn’t saying what I think she is. I rotate my body on the couch to fully face her. Aanya is staring at me as if she has asked the most natural thing.

“I beg your pardon?” I mutter.

“Does he not satisfy you?” 

I go as red as the carpet. I know, because I can feel my face burning up like I have a fever. This has to be the most disparaging conversation I’ve ever had. Again, I have to remember that she has been given the magical equivalent of a blunt force trauma to the head. 

“He hasn’t slept with me.” 

“Oh.” Aanya hums, tapping her fingers on her chin as if thinking about something. “That’s strange.”

“It’s not. He doesn’t want me.” Which is something I’m grateful for. I much rather peel the skin off my bones than let him have me. “Rookwood was the one that decided to give me to him because he doesn’t trust anyone else with me.” That’s what Sebastian had told me, anyway. 

And yet…

I can still feel his mouth whispering around my face; his hot breath tickling my cheek; his solid arms around me, pinning me in place.

The more I think about it, the more bizarre it feels. Sebastian doesn’t seek me in private. Doesn’t even attempt to, in any way. But he was so fast to do that last night. So… out of nowhere.

I tie it up with Rookwood’s arrival. 

Maybe Sebastian did that as a display for him. A display where he showed his uncle that he torments me at his leisure. In reality, I don’t believe he wishes to touch me at all. Strip me of my dignity little by little, yes.

But not bed me.

“Don’t be silly. Of course he wants you.” Aanya’s voice interrupts my thoughts and I snap my head at her, terrified that I have spoken out loud. But she is simply giving an answer to my last statement. “He is a man, is he not?” My eyes narrow but I stay quiet. She exhales with the smile of someone who has finally figured out the solution to a riddle. “Maybe he is waiting for you to take the initiative.”

I decide on that very moment that I want to be alone. Clearing my throat, I come up to my feet and glance down at her. “I think I’m going to rest a little more. Do you mind?” Aanya’s face seems to sadden and I immediately feel bad, so I hurry up to add. “Maybe you could come back tomorrow?”

This cheers her up.

“Of course! Maybe I’ll see you tonight, too. For supper.” I give her a halfhearted smile while she pushes away from the couch and heads towards the door. Aanya sends another big smile in my direction when she reaches the frame. “If you change your mind about it, I could teach you all about how to make him happy.”

I try not to wince until she abandons the chamber and leaves me alone with those thoughts. Not once did I consider making Sebastian happy.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

I will be killing him that night.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Hours go by where I’m by myself. Nobody else comes to the door and I discover that I can open it but I cannot cross the threshold. Every time I try, something constricts my airflow until I see double. Quickly, I realize it’s the collar.

As long as I’m wearing it, this damn room is my cell.

But I know where to find the key. It’s hanging from my captor’s neck, and I’m planning on getting it one way or another. 

Amidst thoughts of escaping, I pace around the dormitory in circles, inspecting every single inch. I read the title of every book; I count the steps between the bed and the fireplace, and the fireplace and the bathroom; I find the wardrobe that somehow I missed the night before because it’s embedded in the wall and the doors are hidden beneath wallpaper. 

It’s full of clothes.

Women’s clothes.

Maybe if I pick what I’ll wear tonight, I can keep the bareness down to a minimum and hope that Sebastian allows it.

That thought makes me furious, but I try to be smart about this. I need enough fabric to conceal a knife, so I have to be able to afford showing skin somewhere else. 

I find a white negligee with a similar style as the one I wore the night before. The fabric is practically sheer around the breasts but the satin skirt almost reaches my knees, making my thigh a perfect placement for a blade. 

I just need something to keep it still. 

The answer comes in the form of thigh garters. The plan is so reckless, my heart starts to pound uncontrollably. 

I lay the negligee, the garters and the white matching stockings on the bed and admire the items that are going to help me achieve my goal.

Now, I just need to get ready for him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Several trays with meals keep appearing throughout the day and I eat every bit of food they carry. 

I take a long bath, longer than the day before, where I almost scrub my skin raw and untangle my hair. I even stand in front of the mirror, giving myself a mental motivational speech.

I get dressed, trying not to think about what I look like. By the time I’m done, it’s dusk, so I take a seat at the foot of the bed and wait to hear Sebastian’s heavy boots in the corridor.

The anxiety is killing me, knowing that if I fail, there’s a big chance he’ll retaliate. Which makes it simple: I can’t fail. Maybe, if I’m lucky, nobody will be paying enough attention to me. 

The bedroom fills with the sound of my foot tapping on the carpet. Every few minutes I have to stop, thinking I hear steps outside but I realize that it’s just my loud heartbeat. I take a deep breath. And then another one.

Just like he once showed me. 

And then I hear it, at the other side of the door. The steps. The handle turning.

And the door opening finally. 

It’s like darkness ripples from him, somehow. Every time he wears his mask, I can only see Rookwood’s Commander.

His judge and executioner. 

Sebastian enters the room and I notice how his gaze searches for me across the room, until that mask ultimately faces me. I stop breathing.

The atmosphere turns denser, so much, one could pierce through it with a blade. He stares at me and I stare back.

It’s all we do these days.

Slowly, I come up to my feet but I don’t move, letting him fully see me. 

I wish I knew what he is thinking.

I wish I could see his expression, not that it would help me. Sebastian does a very good job concealing what he doesn’t want others to see. 

The mask – his face – moves up and down and I know he is studying me. I blush to my core, feeling more exposed than ever under his penetrating eyes, but I don’t look away. I don’t lower my head.

Especially not when he shuts the door close and saunters in my direction, swallowing the light coming from the fireplace. His large silhouette casts shadows on me, and soon enough he is standing only a couple of feet away. His eyes seem to move away from me almost reluctantly and I have a feeling that he is glancing at the nightstand. To the empty tray.

“I see that you are done with your hunger strike.” He rasps with a deep voice.

“I figured it would please you.” I try to keep the acidity out of my words but I still sound too sarcastic.

Sebastian doesn’t flinch at it, his head tilting to the side. “Did you wear that to please me, too?”

He is referring to the negligee, of course. I try not to bristle at his taunting words, pursing my lips. 

“No.” I reply dryly. 

“There is…” Sebastian speaks smooth like velvet, his body inching dangerously close to me. “...a learning curve to this. But it doesn’t take that long to grasp how things work now. You, however, are quite determined to have me teach you the hard way.”

“If you want me to be docile, maybe you should Imperio me.” I bite back.

“I have no interest in subduing you with such means.” He doesn’t lose the casual attitude but there’s a warning edge in his tone that makes me shiver. “But make no mistakes. I will be breaking you.”

“You can try.” I spit the words with venom. I almost think he regards me with suppressed amusement. 

“So mighty proud for someone who’s a prisoner. I do like that about you.”

“And what else do you like about me?”

“Not much.” 

The humor is gone as quickly as it came and I realize it was just a front. Sebastian's gloved hand fists the hem of my negligee and he gives me a hard pull, making me gasp. He doesn’t let the fabric go as he leans over me, and I catch a gleam on his other hand. The chain. 

He connects it to my collar in one swift movement.

“Are you going to keep the mask on?” I dare to ask, but his proximity results in my trembling voice and I hate it. 

Sebastian keeps me on a tight leash. His palm releases the nightgown but I can still feel the stroke of his fingers around my thigh, like a phantom touch. 

“I won’t be eating tonight.” He says flatly. Which can only mean his disguise is staying on. I shudder at it, and he notices. “You are going to learn to love it.” Sebastian whispers, more like a threat than a promise. He means the mask. 

“How would you accomplish that?” 

“You are going to kiss it and lick it until you can taste the iron on the tip of your tongue every time you think of me.” Before I can snarl at him, he pushes me backwards so violently, I pant. We are against the wall in a matter of moments, my back pressed on the cold surface. And Sebastian grabbing my throat over the collar, just like he did the night before. I’m sure he can feel my heartbeat under his thumb. “Starting right now.”

“W-what?”

“Kiss the mask.” I open my mouth, trying not to look horrified by this order. He is so near my face that I can simply pout my lips and I would touch him. “Kiss. It.”

Remember the plan.

You need to play by his rules.

Let him think he is winning.

My mind is a mess of thoughts and emotions. He said that he wants to break me and this is it. And breaking me is to challenge my dignity. 

I’m furious.

Yet, I stand on my toes to approach my mouth to the mask. Sebastian softens the pressure of his hand around my neck, allowing me to draw near where his chin is. I leave a small, faint kiss right below his bottom lip, refusing to stare away from his eyes.

I want him to see that it is going to take a lot more to break me. 

I believe this satisfies him greatly because his touch abandons my skin; but he doesn’t back away. His forearms come to rest on the wall, one at each side of my face. He still holds the chain in his fist. 

“Who do you belong to?” His whisper is so cold. So… cruel, but so, so soft. 

“You.” I mumble through gritted teeth.

“And who am I?” 

An absolute bastard, I’d like to say. 

“My Master.”

“Attagirl. Say it again.”

I feel as if all the air has been sucked in from the room. I want to scream, explode into a million angry pieces. If I had my magic, it would be him begging on his knees for my mercy and not the other way around. I want to hate him.

I hate him, I tell myself.

He is not that boy anymore.

He wasn’t real.

This is real.

Whoever this is, he is the true Sebastian Sallow.

“I belong to you.” My voice drowns with tears of rage that I blink away. 

He watches me for hours, I think. Watches how easy it is to dominate me, but he doesn’t know I’m only doing this because I have to. Sebastian takes a step back and only then I realize how intoxicatingly warm his presence was before he pulls it away. Another long look and then he gives a firm tug to the chain, indicating that it’s time to go.

My steps are heavy while we stroll down the corridors of the castle, walking the same route we did the night before. I take some time glancing around the portraits, memorizing the sequence of empty landscapes like it matters.

We make a turn and I see the Moving Staircase in the same position it was last night. Same position it has been for weeks, after the battle was over and the school had fallen.

It’s like the magic in Hogwarts has left, making it a deserted carcass.

I clasp my hands in front of me, pulling frantically on my fingers in an anxious tell, as Sebastian leads me down to the ground floor. I do get why Rookwood made the Central Hall his private dining quarters, seeing as the architectural structure is magnificent. 

Like last night, there are two tables. One, round and small, sits near the mermaid fountain full of alcohol bottles and desserts. 

The other one stands on the side, bigger and ostentatious. Full with half a dozen loyalists.

No trace of Sebastian’s friends.

These are all Rookwood’s men. And Rookwood is sitting at the end of the table, presiding over the dinner. 

No girls on their laps. I see them lining up by the fountain like I was yesterday. It makes me feel a little better, knowing that I won’t be alone. 

Maybe, with them next to me, I could get that knife easily.

“Look who is finally here.” Rookwood sends half a smirk our way as soon as Sebastian takes a step sideways to reveal me. His eyes travel down my body and my plan starts to look very, very stupid.

“I apologize for the delay.” Sebastian replies with a leathery-like tone that has me narrowing my eyes at him. “I was working on an attitude adjustment.” 

“And how is that going?” 

It’s not Rookwood but Harlow who inquires with a nasty grin on his face. Almost immediately I look for Aanya amongst the faces of the girls, and I see her standing in the line. She isn’t looking at me, her chin is down and her eyes are on the floor as if it is the most interesting thing in there. There’s a bruise on her cheek she didn’t have before.

“Give me a few weeks. She is going to be crawling on the floor by choice.” The answer almost makes me want to slap him but I stay still, sending a murderous glance at him in complete silence while he unhooks the chain from my collar and it vanishes into the air. Eagerly, I try to turn around and head towards where the girls are, but Sebastian grabs my forearm, stopping me on my tracks. “You aren’t going to be standing tonight, darling.” My face must reflect the swirl of devastation and horror that courses through me; something that Sebastian seems to enjoy very much, because he drawls with satisfaction. “You are going to be sitting on my lap.”

I need a new plan.

Chapter Text

Like a villain
I couldn't be
I didn't need it
It needed me

He pulls me down onto his lap and I fall sideways. Before I can even think of adjusting to a more comfortable position, Sebastian does it for me: his arms slip beneath my body and he is the one who shifts me around until I’m well reclined against his torso and the tip of my toes barely touch the floor. 

I’m sure everyone must be aware of how shamefully flustered I am, especially because every eye is on me and it’s the first time I find myself in such an intimate position with the man that has taken ownership of my body. 

The distance between my face and his mask is nonexistent. There is nowhere to look that feels safe except my own lap, where I keep my hands. The lines on my palms suddenly appear quite riveting.

Anything is better than glancing around the table. Or at Sebastian.

I know it’s impossible but I swear I can feel his hot breath on my cheek, coming from underneath his cover. It’s my own mind, playing tricks on me because I can definitely hear the way he inhales and exhales, the sound muffled and deep through the metal.

In my line of vision, I catch a better look of how my breasts appear to be practically exposed underneath the sheer white negligee and I give myself a mental slap for being so stupid. But then again, I was expecting to be away from the table, not sitting on him.

“Is something the matter?” Sebastian drawls in my ear, making me wince. 

As he speaks, his hand finds the small of my back and the other seeks a placement on my thigh. Slow fingers stroke over the stocking in circles, making me tense so much, I think I may pull a muscle. 

I don’t plan on answering him, because I think he doesn’t actually expect a response. Sebastian knows exactly what the matter is and that question was taunting at its best. I also don’t even have time to consider opening my mouth because down the table, Rookwood is watching us with fascination.

Watching me.

“I’m very happy to see you dining with us tonight.” He says. I must have a death wish. Unable to control my facial expression, I scowl at him from my seat, but Rookwood simply gives me a callous smile before I see his gaze moving towards Sebastian. “And that wouldn’t have been possible without my nephew, of course." There are collective murmurs of agreement around the table; the loyalists closer to Sebastian inch towards him, congratulating him for a job well done. Nobody but him is wearing a mask. I feel like throwing up. He acknowledges the praise with a nod but doesn’t speak. “This task was successfully accomplished several days ago, but as we all know, there has been much to do in the meantime.” Rookwood continues. “So we are all finally celebrating tonight the victory that we have sought for years. A victory that my own blood gave me. A toast. “He raises his goblet and his dark eyes move between me and Sebastian. “To the Commander.”

“To the Commander.”

Every loyalist repeats the same words as they bring their glasses up in the air. Sebastian doesn’t move an inch, but his fingers feel a tad more possessive, digging into my skin. I fear this is going to be one of the many dinners where they’ll celebrate how he managed to both capture me and deliver the repository to Rookwood. 

The muscles on my legs feel on fire after I press my thighs together, and I slightly position my forearms in front of my chest, almost unconsciously shielding myself from the attention coming down the table.

I might be sitting on Sebastian’s lap, but somehow I’m more concerned about how everyone else is staring at me. 

“Yes, yes…” Rookwood lowers his goblet after taking a long gulp. He licks the brown liquid that lingers around his bottom lip without losing sight of me. “Now that we are all here together, let us get to know our Ancient Magic wielder a bit more. Tell us, dear, since my nephew couldn’t seem to provide a lot of details about you when you were schoolmates.” 

“She wasn’t that memorable.” 

Sebastian offers in a monotonous voice that makes the loyalists break into laughter. My cheeks redden with shame and there’s something sour that coats my tongue. I don’t want to but I also can’t help myself, and my chin slowly tilts to glance at his face. At that hideous mask, trying to pierce through the black fog that seems to cloak his gaze from view. But there’s nothing there except a wall of ice.  

Rookwood is still smiling when he speaks again; by his expression I determine that this information pleases him.

“Well, she was younger than you, nephew.” The man says in a sweet, condescending tone that I know it’s directed towards me. “Of course you would never clash in classes and most social gatherings.” Rookwood looks at me. He looks at me so intensely that I feel as if he is trying to slither inside my head and read my thoughts. “A little girl that was given, for reasons I cannot comprehend, a power that could forge or destroy the entire world.” There is a pause full of tension and I find myself unable to properly breathe. “Not so little anymore.”

He whispers the last statement almost to himself and I sense the veil thread that comes with it. It’s cold in the Central Hall. And I’m shaking. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Seven Months Ago

“How did you find me?” I ask, my chest heaving with the exertion after trekking up the hill into a small sea of trees. I have to rest my back against one of them, peering over my shoulder from time to time. But we weren’t followed and below, the town seems as serene as it was when I first made it there. No trace of the Snatchers.

Once the notion that I am safe, or at least safer than a few minutes ago, kicks in, I give the boy – the man – in front of me all of my attention. 

I haven’t seen Sebastian Sallow since my fifth year at Hogwarts. He was in his last year then. 

He is watching me, his scrutiny clinical as if he is searching for something.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, disregarding my question. 

“No… No, I’m not hurt.” I say, softening my voice but remaining alert. “How did you find me?” I press again.

“I didn’t.” Sebastian finally says and there’s a note of exasperation that is not amiss to me. “You found me.” I frown in confusion. “I was already here when you showed up. And while on the subject, why did you?”

“What do you mea…”

“Why are you out in the open?” He cuts me off abruptly. “Aren’t you supposed to be in hiding?”

I swallow. “Yes. I am – was –, but I just… I had to do something.”

“And what exactly are you doing?” Sebastian arches an eyebrow and that gesture makes me blush. “Because what I saw down in the village was a girl with very little defensive training that could’ve died tonight if I hadn’t been there.” I go redder if that’s even possible. His eyes are boring into mine with certain judgment. “Your capture is detrimental to this war, did you know that?”

“I know that.” I reply quietly, taken aback by his words. Until they actually hit me. “How do you know that? How do you know any of this?”

He gives me an irritated look for several seconds before dipping his hand in the pocket of his robes, retrieving something from it. A picture. In the back of it there is a splatter of something brown and it takes me a moment to realize it is dry blood. My stomach twists into a knot. It’s the picture the Snatchers were carrying around, if I have to guess. 

Trying not to appear disgusted, I take it from Sebastian when he hands it over to me.

I stare with disbelief at myself. I remember when this photograph was taken.

It was my fifth year at Hogwarts and I had just successfully finished repotting a Mimbulus Mimbletonia. I was the only one in my class able to do it, so Professor Garlick had taken an old camera and snapped a picture of the happy moment. She hung the photograph on the announcement board outside of the Greenhouses, where she liked to keep memorable pictures, as she liked to say.

I have grown since, but I’m very easily identifiable. 

The girl in this picture is smiling at me with pure joy, her hair messy and her hands stained with soil. I can’t believe I used to be this happy. I can’t believe there was a time where my world was this small and safe.

“They have made copies of this photo.” Sebastian says, interrupting my thoughts. “And give them away to everyone with the promise of a handsome reward if they manage to turn you in. Alive.”

I blink a few times, processing that information. And then I look up at him with caution.

“Is that why you saved me? To get a reward?”

His expression suddenly shifts into a mask of blankness and for a moment I fear he might stun me. After all, I haven’t seen this boy since Hogwarts, five years ago. He could be an entirely different person. He could be one of Rookwood’s loyalists. He could be…

“No.” 

Sebastian answers and he does it so firmly that I believe him. Perhaps I am so tired of not knowing who to trust that I’m clinging onto the memory of the boy I remember from school because I have nothing else.

“The photo doesn’t explain how you know why they want me.” I give him a quick look, waiting for his answer.

“I’m quite good at moving around without being seen.” His tone has a dangerous edge that makes me shiver. I have no trouble believing that, too. “I hear whispers, and some of them tell an interesting story. The story of a girl that possesses a rare type of magic that could bring the entire world to their knees. The story of how Victor Rookwood found out and decided he wanted that power to himself, but can only unlock it if he gets the girl. So the girl disappeared from the face of the earth and hasn’t been seen for years.” Sebastian watches me so intensely that I know he must see on my face how this story is more real than tale. “Until now.”

The silence is deafening, only boycotted by the sounds of the forest. More than ever before, I fear I made a mistake by leaving the safe house. Perhaps it’s not too late to go back. But that would feel like surrender.

And I know where that path is going to lead: I’ll be alive, but a lot of other people will perish.

“I don’t have that magic.” I say in a soft whisper, throwing all caution to the wind. The picture feels heavy in my fingers. “I can see traces of it, but I cannot use it. Not until I complete three trials. Once I do, I will be shown the location of the repository where this magic has been confined and I’ll have full access to it. Until then…” I don’t finish that sentence because I don’t think I need to. Sebastian appears to be keeping up. “There’s nothing extraordinary about me except that I’m a key.”

“And do you have any idea of what these trials are or where they are located?”

I nod faintly. “There was a chamber in Hogwarts I discovered in fifth year.” I explain, the words pouring out of me like a cascade. “I found old portraits there. The people in those portraits told me about the Ancient Magic. About protecting it from anyone else because only the ones that can see the marks should use it.”

More silence.

“Why complete the trials now?” Sebastian inquires. I’m surprised about how well he is taking all of it, as if not a very bizarre conversation to have. “You knew since you were fifteen.”

“People weren’t dying back then.” I say in a low voice, almost choking at the word ‘dying’. He gives me a pointed look and I don’t know if he thinks me brave or foolish. Either way, Sebastian doesn’t say anything. Not for a long time. It’s me who breaks the silence again. “What happened to you? I thought you were dead.”

“What gave you that impression?” His arms fold over his torso while his cloaked head angles down in my direction.

“I asked about you a few years ago, to the people that were keeping me safe. They said nobody had really heard anything so I assumed…”

“You asked about me? Why is that?”

I fluster at my unintentional confession, so I quickly hurry up to fix my mistake.

“I asked about most of the people I remember from Hogwarts.”

If he doesn’t believe me, Sebastian doesn’t say. It’s quite appalling to share the truth in these circumstances: that I liked him, and that’s exactly why I inquired about his well being. Eventually I grew out of that innocent infatuation, especially since we only coincided at Hogwarts for a year. I even grew closer to a boy in The Order. But the memory of Sebastian Sallow, that quiet, older student from Slytherin, still burned in the back of my mind from time to time. 

Perhaps it was the fact that I never truly knew him so I imagined him to be all sorts of wonderful things.

It didn’t quite work in my favor that he was – is – attractive, played Quidditch and was the smartest boy in his year. 

Not surprising that half the female students had an immense crush on him, either. Of course I was no different. But he never glanced in my direction, always around his friend group, with girls of his age hooked around his waist. Never dated anybody seriously. 

And now here he is, a few feet away from me. Alive.

“You would think…” He says, forcing me to look into his face again. “...that after all of these years, they would’ve better prepared you to face these trials.”

He sounds almost displeased at that. More like he has found I am no more than a burden he now has to take care of. 

“They decided it was best to keep me out of Hogwarts before my seventh year started, so I never completed my education.” I mutter, almost abashed. “They kept me in a safehouse, but didn’t really have much time to…to properly show me.”

“So you haven’t practiced magic in three years?” The accusatory tone was hurtful.

“I have. But not a lot.”

“Brilliant.”

“I’m not your responsibility.” I snap, gritting my teeth together. The last thing I want is Sebastian Sallow coming back from the grave to judge me. As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough. 

“You certainly are.” He scowls, his gaze moving up and down my body. “Or did you think I was going to turn around and walk away from this knowing what I know now?” I don’t respond but I don’t lower my eyes, either. Sebastian snorts with incredulity. “This fight is mine as much as yours. As much as anyone. If they capture you, it’s over.”

“So you’ll help me complete the trials.” I say too quickly, before that statement is even processed in my head. “Am I understanding that correctly?”

“You are.” Sebastian responds dryly. “We’ll talk as we move. We are still too close to the village.” 

He swivels, his back towards me, before advancing through the forest with big strides. He doesn’t wait for me to follow him, which I do to my dismay. I can’t believe my own luck. Out of all the people that could’ve found me, he was the one that fate put in my path.

I stare at the back of his neck with a million questions burning on my tongue.

“You never told me where you were all of these years.” I press for the third time.

“Out of the country.” He says, dodging the branch of a tree that hangs low near the ground. I don’t see it in time and my cheek collisions with it. I swallow the grunt of pain, bothered that he doesn’t even glance back to check on me. “Moved with a relative to France.”

“Oh.” I simply say, feeling a bit stupid. I never really considered that as an option. “Relative?” I repeat his own words. “What about your parents?”

Sebastian continues walking but I see a slight tension around his shoulders. It’s very hard to tell, though. He is fast and it’s dark.

“My parents died when I was eleven.” His voice comes out flat. Too flat. “It’s just me and my uncle.”

“I’m sorry.” I offer immediately, feeling like an tactless idiot. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t. I don’t really remember them.”

I try to think of something else to say. Anything is better than this conversation, especially while trekking through the woods.

“Your eyes.” I say, remembering how beastly he appeared less than an hour ago. “They glowed before. How?”

“They never taught us at school that some abilities of your animal can pass on to your human form, without the need to make the full transformation.” He says, coming to a halt in the middle of a small clearing. I see his head moving around, like he is searching for the path to take next. “Maybe they don’t because it requires a lot of practice, and people find that becoming an Animagus is already hard as it is.”

This bit of information strikes me like a slap and I stare at his back, mouth agape. Of course, it makes sense that he is an Animagus. I heard the process is painful and requires a very dexterous mind to accomplish it. People have died trying to do it.

“So you can see in the dark because of your Animagus form?” 

“I can see better, hear better, smell better. With just a little effort.”

“And what type of animal have given you these skills?”

It takes Sebastian only a moment to decide on the trail we will follow, as if he has sniffed the air and that has given him a knowledge I’m missing. He prowls forward and I follow. His voice a rasp.

“A wolf.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

“What about the trials?”

Rookwood’s query is not directed at Sebastian, I just know. His gaze keeps fixated on me and he waits for an answer I don’t provide him with. 

My mouth is sewn shut.

Until…

“You were asked a question.” Sebastian threatens in my ear with a velvety-like voice. “Answer it.”

My heart jolts and I swallow the big boulder lodge in my throat before obeying. I need to be compliant, they need to see me incapable of fighting my way out of there. But why is it so damn hard to do so?

“What about them?” 

I mutter back and stare down into my palms, solitary on my lap. I notice for the first time that around the table, everyone wears black. From Sebastian, who is in full uniform, to Rookwood and his loyalists, who wear the same clothes but without the mask and the robes. I must stick out like a sore thumb in my sheer white negligee.

“I’m told they were difficult to manage.” Rookwood continues, grabbing his utensils to cut a piece of his steak with total calmness. As if this is a conversation about the weather outside. “That you almost died completing them.”

“Yes.” My voice comes a little raspy and I almost want to leave it at that, but I sense Sebastian’s stare on the side of my face and clear my throat. “They aren’t supposed to be easy. Not when the knowledge that awaits at the end is the difference between life and death.”

“Of course, of course.” The man brings the steak into his mouth and chews for several seconds. The table fills with clattering, as the rest of the dark wizards resume their dinner as well. Everyone but Sebastian. His fingers are sunk on my thigh and sometimes he makes the slight movement of advancing beneath the stocking but doesn’t. I can still feel the leather of his gloves on my skin. “My nephew saved you.” Rookwood continues. It’s not a question. “All three times.”

“Yes.” 

“How fortunate for you that he found you right when he did. Imagine if you had perished on your adventure, alone.”

“Fortunate for you.” I can’t help myself. The words simply come out as I look across the table without shying away this time. “Had I failed, you would’ve never found the repository.”

“But you’d be dead.” Rookwood points at me with his knife. “So maybe it’s fortunate for everyone involved.”

“If I knew this was going to be the outcome, I would’ve gladly chosen that path.”

Sebastian’s hands become concrete on my skin for a single moment before they loosen once more, although I don’t give it much thought. If he is going to be enraged that I’m speaking to his lord with such casual disregard, I’m willing to give him an even bigger reason to be upset about. 

“You aren’t scared of death.” The assumption comes from Rookwood, who seems very serene at the moment.

“No.” I declare.

“Of course not.” He responds, his expression never straying further from nonchalant. Slowly, Rookwood sets down his utensils and reaches for his napkin, dabbing around his mouth with exaggerated elegance. “Have you ever experienced the Cruciatus Curse?”

My bravado doesn’t last much longer after that. There’s an implicit threat here that I know I’m not missing. And I know because everyone at the table shifts their heads towards me. Some of the men look thrilled. Harlow is grinning and the sight of that mouth full of yellow teeth makes my skin crawl. 

Sebastian appears imperturbable. Whatever this is, I don’t think he can save me from it. Not that I think he would want to.

“What?” I ask quietly.

Rookwood drinks from his goblet, gulping down the food he is still chewing.

“The Cruciatus Curse. You know what that is, don’t you?”

“I-I do…” I stutter. “But I have never undergone it.”

“Have you seen it being casted on someone else?” I feel so very sick I can’t respond anymore. If I part my lips, I fear the bile rising up my throat will come out. “That is a negative answer, I take it.” Rookwood takes a moment to rip his gaze away from me and he contemplates the girls on the side. “Perhaps a demonstration.” 

“No!” 

I shout, trying to jump to my feet but Sebastian keeps me still on his lap. His fingers creep up my spine until they bury in the back of my neck, grabbing a fistful of hair. A small whimper comes out of me when he tugs my head back, more from surprise than from pain. He forces me to stare into the mask, and I can feel the cold metal on my lips when he inches forward to purr against them.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble.” Sebastian seems to glance over at his uncle, as if sharing with him some sort of nonverbal information. “Maybe we should keep it occupied.” 

I’m shaking so much, I don’t know how he isn’t trembling alongside me. I can’t see what’s happening around the table anymore, but I do hear Rookwood’s voice and a faint ‘that one’ that unsettles me. What girl did he choose? Is it Aanya?

Tears of horror form in my eyes and spill down my cheeks in a watery path. 

“Sebastian…” I implore to the mask, but his grip tightens.

“Kiss it.” Sebastian orders in a low growl. “Slowly. As if you were kissing me.”

Fighting back has gotten me nowhere, and it’s not even my own pain that concerns me. I hear the girl approaching the table. I hear a chair being dragged on the marble floor, indicating that someone has gotten up. I hear the man’s voice.

“Crucio!”

And then I catch a flash of red light a second before I hear the screaming. It’s harrowing, entering my ear canal like water from a flood. 

“Kiss.The. Mask.” Sebastian says again, pushing my face against him with violence.

My skin fills with goosebumps and I decide at that moment that I can’t watch that girl being tortured even if I was free of his hold because listening is already distressing enough. I did that to her. It’s someone else casting the curse but it is me who forced that hand.

Fighting the shudders, I reach for Sebastian’s face and cup the mask in my hand, if only because I need something immovable to hold on to and his pulse is steady. My other arm braces the edge of table behind me and I feel the satin cloth underneath my fingertips. 

I press a kiss on the metal, where Sebastian’s mouth should be. At a very slow pace, I trace a path around it, and everything my lips touch it, I taste the iron in my tongue; just like he said I would. A flavor coated with my own tears that keep silently falling.

The flashes of red continue and so does the shrieking. 

I touch something on the table. Something a little sharp. A knife.

Sebastian’s gaze is on me, he wouldn’t be able to see me grab it at this angle. And the others are watching that poor, agonizing girl writhing on the ground. At least I determine that because nobody says anything when I pull the knife from the table and slide it under the garter. 

I kiss that hideous mask a little harder, keeping my captor busy with it. 

I wonder if he can see the exact moment my eyes go from fearful to glazed with hatred. If I walk out of that dinner alive, Sebastian won’t wake up tomorrow morning. 

Chapter Text

I don't want, what I can get
I want someone, with secrets
That nobody, nobody, nobody knows

“...everything ready for the gala, of course.”

“We are taking all the necessary safety measures for an easy transport.”

There is a buzzing in my ears that grows softer and softer as the minutes go by. So faint now, I can almost make out part of the conversation Rookwood is having with his men. Although, nothing really registers.

“We found that cunt Dippet hiding up in Paisley.” I’m able to recognize Harlow’s voice. “I burned him and the entire house to the ground.”

My lips feel dry after I spent what felt like a lifetime pressing them around the mask. I try to dampen them a bit with the tip of my tongue. I taste the iron on them.

I take a while to steal a glance towards the girls because I don’t dare to face whatever is waiting for me there. My eyes skim through them all in an attempt to detect which one is the one that was punished for my mistake. 

I can’t tell. All of them have an absent expression on their faces and stare at their feet as if they have been instructed to do so. 

I study Aanya the longest. Aside from the scrape on her cheek, she doesn’t seem affected at all.

The weight of the knife is heavy against my flesh. Discreetly, I keep pulling the hem of the negligee down every time I notice the tip of the blade sticking out from underneath. I haven’t been able to keep the tremors of my hands under control since the screams stopped so I lace the fingers on my thighs and wait.

I wait for this dinner to be over.

I count the minutes until Sebastian grows bored of the unnecessary exchange of wicked deeds and destruction Rookwood’s loyalists have caused in the magical community. 

He feels rock solid under me. His arm has rounded the small of my back, which I use to support myself, but his hand is on the table. His fingers give gentle taps over the cloth here and there. His other arm hangs at his side.

He isn’t touching me anymore. Surely he thought the punishment elicited the appropriate reactions out of me. After forcing me to kiss the mask while that girl screamed, he kept me doing it for several minutes afterwards. And I did it.

I did it quietly and without complaining. 

His touch abandoned me shortly after, and the conversation around the table resumed its course.

There is a rage simmering in the pit of my stomach. Something I haven’t felt before. Unnatural and unbecoming. 

It is but one thing that is giving me my sanity: the possibility of getting out tonight.

Once we get to bed, I’ll wait for Sebastian to fall asleep. I’ll drive the knife through his heart. I’ll get the key that hangs around his neck and with that, unlock the collar that represses my magic. I’ll take his wand.

And I’ll get out of this castle.

I’ll find The Order.

And I’ll come back for Aanya and the other girls. 

I’m determined. 

The buzzing in my ears is completely gone now and the voices are not muffled anymore. A part of me is alright with not listening, but I remind myself that I need to gather information as long as they let me witness their meetings. It can be helpful. 

Slowly, I tilt my head at the men that sit around the table. Everyone eats and drinks without a care. Everyone but Sebastian.

I wonder why he is the only one in uniform. Maybe it is some sort of mental trick to infuse fear and respect amongst the rest. I have the impression that they resent him, if the mild sneers on some of the loyalists are proof of something. 

The ones in lower ranks that I have seen around the corridors appear to admire him. But these men, the ones higher up in the ladder, closer to Rookwood…

These men are jealous. 

Perhaps because Sebastian has deprived them of the chance to become their Lord’s second in command. His most trusted man.

I’m willing to believe some of them might think Sebastian has achieved this because he is Rookwood’s nephew but I know they are wrong. My captor has earned that right with his own merits.

He deserves this position of power because he has earned it. 

“My Lord.” A man with bright red hair and hollow eyes speaks. “We visited the Pucey’s Manor today and retrieved the books you requested.”

“Very good. Thank you, Horace.” Rookwood replies with a very casual tone that makes my ears perk up. “I shall see to them after supper.” He nods at the doors behind the table, where the school’s library is located. 

“If you need help finding something…” The same man asks with a sweet-like tone.

“I do not.” Rookwood cuts him off and Horace seems to sink into his seat, lowering his chin in servitude. “The library is out of bounds for everyone except me and the Commander.” With a finger, he beckons at one of the girls and I’m not sure how she notices with her head down but she hurries up to her master's side. Like the others, she is young, pretty and unknown by me: a muggle, of course. “It was your job to keep the cups full this evening, was it not?” She withers at Rookwood’s cutting tone and I can’t blame her. For a moment, I expect he’ll do something to hurt her, but he simply makes a gesture of dismissal, and the girl takes a flagon from the table and walks around pouring the drinks. Rookwood places his attention on Sebastian, but I see his eyes shifting towards me a few times. “I suppose you’ll start working on my request soon, nephew. Whenever you don’t find yourself… occupied.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up in amusement, and I can feel the heat spreading out on my face in response. I know exactly what he implied with that. If only he knew his Commander is more interested in toying with my mind than my body.

Sebastian, however, doesn’t even acknowledge the insinuation.

“I will be out all day tomorrow.” He comments with a flat voice. His fingers continue to tap on the table rhythmically. “As per your command.” 

Rookwood considers. “Let Burke handle that.”

“And risk another failure?”  Sebastian drawls and I detect the undertone of taunt in his statement. I know I’m correct when down the table, a man I believe to be Burke, flushes furiously. I reckon it must be very humbling for all of these people to be called out by a man half their age. 

“You have some nerve, boy…” Burke hisses, his face angling from Sebastian to Rookwood, as if expecting his master to defend him. “I have been practicing magic longer than you have been alive.”

“And yet, several of our prime suspects escaped under your watch.” 

“You know very well the transport was compromised and…” 

“I do not care.” Sebastian interrupts him without raising his voice. Burke looks like he has so much to say that he might explode. But he doesn’t speak again, and soon enough, the girl reaches our chair with her decanter, ready to pour more of its content. Sebastian's hand covers the still full goblet sitting in front of him, stopping her. “No more for me. I have a long day tomorrow.” 

“Stay after your return.” Rookwood says in what I interpret to be a command disguised as a petition. “I need you here, at least until the gala.”

“As you wish.” Sebastian inclines his head faintly and then he does the same thing he did at the beginning of this dinner: he scoops me in his arms like I’m weightless. I swallow a yelp as Sebastian raises from his seat carrying me and then setting me down on my feet next to him. It’s so sudden, I don’t even have time to hold my breath when his hand comes to be in very close contact with the knife on my thigh. But he doesn’t notice, and then we are both standing in front of the table. “It’s time we head back to the room.”

“So early?” Harlow exaggerates his dejection at our departure, but I can still see the mild grimace twisting his face.

“Why would I want to spend all night with you when I can be with her, instead?” Sebastian replies, placing his hand at the end of my spine. I tense at this. 

“If she isn’t too tired after, perhaps you can send her to my chambers.” Burke mumbles in what I hope it’s a joke, seeing as some of the men, including him, laugh.

I’m repulsed by the mere idea of these people touching me. To think that Rookwood could’ve given me to any of them… My fate would’ve been a hundred times worse than what I already face with Sebastian.

Sebastian, who is lethally quiet. Everyone is.

It’s like the entire Hall isn’t breathing. The loyalists shift on their seats, uncomfortable. Everyone except Rookwood, who is witnessing the scene with some sort of enjoyment, like some do when they watch a movie they’ve seen dozens of times but still find it entertaining. 

I try to give Sebastian a furtive glance, just to see what he is doing. He is still as death. His mask is angled at Burke and I realize he has been looking at him. No matter how angry Sebastian has been with me, and no matter that I can’t see his eyes, I wouldn’t want to be at the other side of that stare. The silence is loud and full of threats. Burke must know that what he said did not please the Commander.

He is too proud to lower his face, but he does gaze away from the mask, his expression contorted in a mixture of fear and anger. 

It’s the first time I become a spectator to such a visceral reaction. I don’t quite know if I should be scared like the rest of them for belonging to someone that instigates this response with a single look, or relieved, because it appears that Sebastian Sallow does indeed not share. 

I can feel his hand flattening on my back before he guides me away from the table towards the side stairs that will take us up. No goodbyes; nothing. 

He doesn’t hook the chain to my collar, allowing me to walk next to him for a few moments before giving me a mild push.

“Lead the way.” He coos with a hoarse voice, loud enough for the table to still hear us. “It’ll make for a nice view.”

Someone lets out a faint snort and I simply fluster, still not accustomed to these types of remarks. But I do as he orders and position myself in front of him, taking small but quick steps into the dark hallways. The blade scrapes against my thigh and I try to maintain a normal pace where it doesn’t look like I’m limping. My mind is a swirl of different thoughts, such as whatever Sebastian is taking care of tomorrow, what Rookwood is seemingly researching, the fate of the girls that stayed behind at the dinner. And what’s going to have to have to happen in Sebastian’s room for me to be able to escape.

Could I possibly kill him? Am I capable of such a thing, even if it gives me my freedom? I keep swallowing all the way up to the East Wing, aware of Sebastian’s figure marching right behind me. He is stealthy as a cat, but I know he is there.

The shadows always seem darker in his presence. 

When we reach the door of his dormitory, he is the one who opens the door and waits for me to enter before he follows inside.

My pulse is roaring in my ears. This scene feels some sort of similar to the night prior, when he watched me until I gathered the courage to glance back at him. I can’t bear the thick silence so I turn around, wondering if he is going to finally do what he promised Adrian Pucey that he would. If he is actually going to join me in bed, or spend the night again in that room I have no access to.

I need him in bed with me.

Otherwise, the plan won’t work.

“Are you hungry?” He asks with no inflection. I remember just then that I did eat meals throughout the day but nothing tonight. I shake my head in a negative response. The torture I attended was enough to turn my stomach upside down. Sebastian must think the same because he doesn’t push or threaten me with force-feeding. “Then get in bed.”

I follow him with my gaze as he slinks towards the bottom of the bedroom, where that door is. I can’t let him do that.

“Aren’t you going to sleep with me tonight?” I try to use a gentle voice but there’s a pinch of eagerness that I’m unable to hide. 

Sebastian comes to a halt halfway to his destination and he rotates on his feet slowly until he is facing me again. He contemplates me for a second before speaking again.

“Is that an invitation?” 

I catch the mild mockery in that question. The undying flames from the hearth cast a soft orange light around his dark silhouette, making him appear a lot more sinister than he is. To pair with that thought, Sebastian saunters in my direction and the gap between us grows smaller and smaller.

I gulp.

“Do you need an invitation to sleep in your own bed?” I retort back, unable to hide the biting tone. 

He doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary. It’s like amusement ripples from underneath the mask.

“This is the second time you suggest I spend the night with you.” Sebastian’s voice is smooth and inviting as he continues to come closer. He only stops stalking when he is at a foot distance and I have to tug my neck back to gaze up at him. “If you aren’t careful, I might think you are ready to spread your legs for me.”

I almost squirm at the words. He makes it very difficult for me to try and act like he has me under his control. My lips purse before I snarl.

“I told you I’m not a whore.”

“Not a whore.” Sebastian agrees in a whisper that knocks the air out of my lungs when he leans on me. “My whore. Mine” My hand shoots up instinctively and I ready myself to slap him across the face. But my palm lingers near the mask, only stopped by the notion that I will hurt myself more than I’ll do him if I strike on the metal. He doesn’t recoil. I don’t think he even blinks at the sudden gesture. “Do it.” Another menacing whisper as he comes down. His face is only a couple of inches away from mine. “See where that gets you.”

I bring my hand down but not my face, holding his gaze.

“Hurt me, then.” 

“I don’t enjoy broken things.”

With that, Sebastian turns away from me and I’m finally able to draw in a proper breath. I didn’t realize I hadn’t been holding it back. I only let him take a couple of steps before I hiss back.

“I thought that was what you wanted. A broken thing.”

I see how he lingers on his next step but doesn’t stop. Without another word, Sebastian goes through the secret door and disappears behind it, leaving me again alone.

More than ever, my brain feels too scrambled and so does my judgment. Rookwood’s Commander is a walking contradiction.

He seems like he wants to subdue me in public and enjoy my insubordination in private. 

My whore.

The words tint my cheeks red, I can feel it. I can’t believe I harbored romantic feelings for someone so vile. With a clenched jaw, I head to bed while sliding the knife out of the garter and giving it a long look. 

It’s a paring knife. 

Of course a cleaver would’ve been a fantastic option but I can still bury this pointed tip on the side of his throat. I don’t stay out in the open for long holding the future crime weapon. Rapidly, I head to the poster bed and shove the blade under my pillow, glancing back at the door to make sure Sebastian isn’t there.

But it’s still closed and not a sound comes from within.

Once I hide it, I march towards the hidden closet and search there for different clothing I can use to sleep. Something warm and comfortable for running away. But everything is designed to be the opposite. With a huff of indignation, I settle with a pair of thick socks that go all the way to my knees and a pajama set made of gold pink satin shorts and a matching camisole. I leave a white robe hanging outside of the closet, just in case, and then I get under the covers.

The sheets are blissfully cool and I shrink into myself, listening to my own heartbeat and the crackle of the fire. I can’t help but to pull my fingers with impatience.

Is he going to come to bed? I hope that he does, and Merlin help me, I hope that he doesn’t.

I hate myself for still thinking of him as that boy that helped me for six months. How could all of it be a lie? All that he told me? All that he promised me?

Nothing and nobody is going to hurt you, as long as you are with me. 

I swear.

I swear.

I swear.

That oath especially is hammering at my brain. 

As long as you are with me.

I stare at the canopy for at least an hour, giving up hope of Sebastian joining me in bed. And that’s precisely when I hear the door at the bottom of the room opening. I jolt up to my elbows with a staggering look on my face, I’m sure. Just in time to watch Sebastian heading towards me.

No uniform, no mask. He wears a simple pair of black sweatpants and a short sleeve shirt, the same color. 

Seeing his face is like seeing him all over again and something coils within me, drying my throat and hitching my breath.

I hate myself for it.

But I still watch him approach until he reaches the foot of the mattress and stands there for a moment. Sebastian watches me watch him with dark eyes. In silence.

His hair seems wet from here, so I have to assume there is another shower within that room I’m not allowed into. Maybe he has his own bed in there and that’s where he slept the night before.

If that’s the case, I don’t understand why he has decided to join me here, after all.

My guess about the bathroom is correct when he crawls into bed and I’m slapped with the scent of shampoo. Eucalyptus, cedarwood, sweet birch. 

Clean.

Manly.

I lay back down as he slides under the covers, remaining on his side of the bed. I can still feel the heat that emanates from there but I turn my back towards him, bracing my own pillow. Making sure the knife is still where I put it. 

Sebastian doesn’t touch me or seek for me, as I knew he wouldn’t. We don’t exchange a single word.

All I’m hoping is for him to fall asleep fast so I can carry on with my plan. I listen to his breathing, even and soft, looking for that recognition that he has drifted into sleep. 

I think he does after a few minutes. But I don’t dare to move, frozen in place like I’m a statue. I allow more time to pass. An hour. Two, maybe.

The smell of his soap keeps me company all that time. Eventually, the fire extinguishes and the room falls into shadows. The moonlight slips through the glass, reflecting its faint shine on the mirror in the corner. 

It’s in the refuge of this umbra that I finally prop myself up on my elbow and glance at him. Sebastian is sleeping on his back, head tilted to the side, on the pillow. One of his arms is buried beneath it, almost as if cradling it. 

He looks peaceful. Different eyes might see him in a better light. Who would think someone carved so beautifully could be so dark inside?

My hand slips under my own pillow, and I wrap my trembling palm around the hilt of the knife. I keep my movements slow and steady, trying not to disturb him.

But his expression doesn’t change and neither does his breathing as I come up to my knees next to his body. 

His warmth soaks into me at the same time I catch the shine of the small key hanging from his necklace.

I contemplate trying to get the key instead of killing him, but I know I won’t succeed in doing that. With a trembling hand, I approach the knife to his neck, letting it hover without grazing him just yet.

If I do this, he’ll be dead.

Sebastian will be dead and I’ll be his killer.

My gaze flickers between my target and his face. Without the mask, I see that boy again.

I remember the way he became frantic when the water was pouring into the cave.

I remember my hands bleeding from trying to scratch my way out; his hands bleeding because he was pummeling at the rock on the outside. 

How the crevice was only small enough for our fingers to touch. 

How I accepted my fate but he didn’t. 

He refused to let me die.

Now I know why and I want to hurt him for it. 

I look around his face again and my teeth clench. So does my grip on the knife. The tip touches his neck and I prepare myself for what I’m about to do.

But a hand covers mine over the hilt and I’m left breathless as my body is forcefully shoved against the mattress. A moment later, Sebastian is the one on top and I fight to get him off me, kicking and slapping at him.

He sits over my legs and pins my wrists next to my head, rendering my attempts to escape futile in a matter of seconds. 

“Your bedside manners are atrocious.” 

Sebastian purrs like this situation doesn’t faze him and I almost gasp when I realize he must’ve been pretending to sleep this entire time. There is no other explanation as to how he was able to pounce back so fast.

I refuse to meet his eyes, deep brown and a few inches away, so I tug on my hands and writhe beneath him, as if that’s going to help me break free.

“Get off me!” I snarl.

“Nah.” He replies in a hoarse voice, his hot breath tickling my cheek. I sense his attention moving to the ruffled sheets on the side, where the knife has fallen. “I think you need me to scare you a little.” I go boneless, unable to bring oxygen down into my lungs, no matter how much I pant. Roughly, Sebastian brings my hands over my head and forces one over the other, capturing both wrists with his palm. Freeing the other to let it travel with leisure towards the blade. I swallow a yelp when he wields it closer to me. “I understand that desperation makes us act recklessly, but I didn’t expect you’d be this careless. Or did you not think I would notice the missing knife?”

I don’t respond at once, turning my head away from him in a strive to elude the path of the knife. Not that I can do much about it. Sebastian presses the edge on my hostage forearm and glides it down. My skin fills with goosebumps at the tickling sensation and something heavy settles in my stomach knowing that he could simply press a tad harder and it would pierce through the flesh.

“Maybe I thought you were stupid enough not to realize.” I respond through gritted teeth and I can almost feel the flicker of amusement that comes from him.

“If that’s what you believe, you must not know me very well.” Sebastian sounds rather invested in the trail of the blade. I feel it moving down and down my arm. Slow. Feather-like. I can’t stop the pant that crawls out of my mouth when he continues around my collarbone and the tip moves smoothly over the satin, in between my breasts. “Do you know what would’ve happened if you had managed to leave here? You would’ve had to go through the forest in order to avoid being out in the open. And you would’ve lasted less than an hour.”

“We can test it out if you let me go.” 

My chest heaves like I ran miles, Sebastian’s weight crushing me into the mattress. He is made of solid rock and I hate how little effort he seems to be putting in keeping me restrained. I’m sweating and he is reveling. And then the knife slides up against my throat and I stop breathing altogether. 

His mouth caresses my cheek, warming it when he whispers.

“I think I prefer you in this bed.” It’s almost like a faint kiss as his lips brush on my skin. A kiss that’s not a kiss but a lethal promise. It doesn’t stop me from shivering. “I could even pretend you didn’t just try to kill me if you tell me sweet little lies.”

“What lies?” 

I manage to ask in a grunt. The edge digs more harshly on my flesh; I can feel my pulse throbbing against it. A contradiction of how softly Sebastian continues to speak to me.

“Tell me you are a good girl that can follow orders.” I open my mouth immediately to hiss a response but he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Don’t make me ask twice or there’s going to be pain.” It’s my pride that keeps me from giving him those words. The silence stretches between us for merely a moment where I’m almost positive that he wouldn’t actually hurt me. Until I feel the grip he has over my wrists tightening and twisting, and I let out a small yelp. “Tell me.”

“I’m… “I whimper because his iron hold doesn’t budge right away. “I’m a good girl that can follow orders.”

“Very good.” His tone is of exaggerated praise and I grunt dies in my mouth. “Say that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than in this bed with me.” 

Tears of fury and indignation settle in the corners of my eyes. Sebastian waits a single second before he, again, is constricting my wrists until it feels like my bones are going to snap.

“There’s nowhere else I rather be… than in this bed with you.” 

The knife is suddenly off my neck and I see through my peripheral how he holds it in the air, wielding it with a fast gesture. And then the blade comes down, straight to my face. I don’t even have time to scream, my brain half processing that it’s going to be lots of pain. But there is none.

He buries the weapon on the mattress down to the hilt, only a few inches away from my face. His hand, free again, grabs my jaw and I’m forced to turn my head towards him.

Our gazes meet for the first time and I see how the brown eyes have been swallowed by darkness. 

His mouth grazes mine. I don’t know where my breath ends and his starts. 

“Now tell me that the next time you try to get out will be when you are absolutely certain it’s going to work.” 

I take longer to repeat these words but he doesn’t hurt me like before. This time, Sebastian waits patiently for me as I ponder over this statement. The key on the necklace he wears dangles in front of me.

Sweet lies, he called it. 

Something tells me it might just be a challenge. 

“Next time I won’t fail.” 

I promise in a quiet tone and we stay staring at each other for such a long time that I’m not quite sure if he is pleased or infuriated.

It’s the former, I assume, when he releases me. First my jaw and then my wrists. Relief courses through me after the tension my muscles have been. Sebastian moves to the side and turns his back on me, lying on the bed as if he is going to go to sleep. As if none of this ever happened.

I’m left motionless, staring at the canopy above me. With the memory of his body on mine. And the knife, still buried next to my face. 

Chapter Text

My, my, those eyes like fire
I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
Come now, bite through these wires
I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

Seven Months Ago

“Let me see.”

Sebastian reaches out his hand for the map I’m holding so I give it to him. He opens it up over the stump of a tree while I adjust my robes. It’s starting to be too cold out and my hands are freezing. He, however, seems oblivious to the chilly weather and I wonder if it’s another gift from his Animagus form.

We have been traveling together only for a couple of days but we have barely spoken a few words. I believe he prefers it that way, seeing as he responds to anything I ask with monosyllables and doesn’t bother to inquire about me.

I shouldn’t be shocked that I’m treated like the mean to an end. The Order, however much I appreciate what they did for me, also behaved similarly.

As the Ancient Magic Wielder, I’m regarded as such. My name doesn’t matter. What I like doesn’t matter. Nor do my feelings. I’m at peace with that.

“I thought it would take me a lot less to get there.” I comment in a hushed tone as I peer over Sebastian’s shoulder at the way he seems to track the distance between our current location and the first trial. 

“We can’t use the main roads so I estimate a week if we go this way.” 

He points at a path I can’t see so I just take his word for it. I’m so tired of walking nonstop, I have allowed him to think for the two of us. Especially since he provides me with a protection I didn’t know I needed. And food.

Not mushrooms and berries, like I ate when I was traveling by myself. But deer and grouses and even wildcats. 

Although, not even Sebastian can shield me from my muscles cramping and my legs giving up on me after hours and hours of walking.

“Is it still a week if we stop to get some sleep now?” I ask in a tentative mumble. He gives me an exasperated side look but doesn’t say anything. “Please?” There is some tension around his jaw but he concedes with a single nod, still staring at the map. My gaze remains on him for a little long, admiring how beautifully carved he seems to be at a closer distance. He exudes a very attractive confidence, more so now than what I remember from school. Broodier, definitely, but I don’t particularly resent that. I know I have been gawking at him for too long when he turns his face and returns my stare. Those brown eyes seem to swallow me when they flicker around me and I feel something fluttering in the pit of my stomach. “Thank you.”

I manage to say while I walk away from him towards the trunk of a tree and slide my back down until I’m sitting on the cold ground. I bury my hands under my robes and in between my thighs, seeking for a warmth I can’t seem to get. At some point, I doze off. It happens fast, but it’s not a very good sleep.

I can feel my body aching after a few hours, when I regain consciousness. Following the pain, the next thing I notice is how less cold I am. When I stare down, I see the large cloak on top of my robes. A soft smile tugs on my lips.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I don’t remember falling asleep during the night but when I open my eyes, it’s bright outside. With the events of a few hours ago coming back in a rush to me, my first instinct is to look towards the other side of the bed. It’s empty.

Sebastian is not there anymore, and the only proof that he slept beside me is the slight indentation in the mattress. Immediately after, I search for the knife that he buried inches away from my eye and I didn’t dare to remove overnight. It’s not there, either.

The mattress and the sheets aren’t pierced so I have to assume he took it with him and fix the puncture left behind. 

I prop myself up to my elbows to quickly scan the room.

I’m alone. 

The fire has been rekindled so the cold doesn’t strike as hard when I drag my body through the bed and jump out of it, walking towards the windows that show into the courtyard. The thick socks I put on the night before have gone down to my shins but I don’t bother fixing them.

The gardens seem vacant. No trace of Rookwood’s men walking around. Nothing. I hear again the sound of a distant caw but no birds flying by. My gaze slides down to the flowers. With glee I notice how some of them seem more alive than before.

I’m sure there’s a bush of roses that is starting to blossom but I’m too far to guess.

There is a whistling sound behind me followed by a jingle and I turn around to see the silver tray of food waiting for me, not on the nightstand this time but on the tea table that sits in front of the fireplace. I don’t go there right away. 

I glance down at the roses one more time and my fingers become alive on their own, dragging around the cold glass as if I was touching the flowers. 

Staring at them makes me ponder about what I have lived in this new world so far. 

I have to remind myself that I’m smart and I should act that way. So I proceed to analyze every interaction I had with everyone in the castle so far, including Sebastian. Especially Sebastian.

If the words from last night hold any value, it almost seems like he is encouraging me to escape. But only if I do it right.

I try to tie this with whatever Rookwood is researching but I come up with nothing except the repository and Ancient Magic. 

Why would he want to study about it? Maybe he doesn’t know how to use it?

It’s like a light bulb turns on over my head.

Does Sebastian want me gone because he doesn’t want his uncle to gain the full power of the repository? It’s a big leap, considering that at the end he gave me away to Rookwood instead of protecting me. And I don’t even know if Rookwood needs me to access the Ancient Magic.

My theory doesn’t have any legs to stand on, especially with the loyalty Sebastian shows to his uncle regularly. 

Maybe I’m delving too much into something that could be very simple: my jailer is playing with my head.

He is good at that, after all.

In one thing I’m going to agree with him, though: I’m going to try to escape again, and when that happens, he won’t see it coming.

Last night I made a rushed decision and acted impulsively. He was right about that. Maybe the way to do this requires a different approach. 

What is that saying?

You catch more flies with honey?

My eyes are still on the roses but my mind is somewhere else, crafting a new plan. It takes me a few minutes to realize that, even with the fire, my satin pajamas are not enough to keep me warm so I walk towards the closet, where I left the robe hanging the night before. I put it on and then I remember breakfast.

I sit on the couch and eat. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

There is a soft knock on the door and I know exactly who it belongs to. I have barely finished the last piece of bacon by then so I wipe my fingers with a napkin and leap from the couch, hurrying to the frame.

Aanya greets me with the same gleeful smile from the day before and I give her half of mine. 

“Good morning!” She says, not waiting to be invited in before she waltzes inside. The bruise on her face is gone. “How did you sleep?”

I close the door behind her and hesitate for a moment before I answer.

“Great, thank you.” I scour her choice of clothing. She wears a flimsy dress, similar to the one from yesterday. Instead of pink, today it is a soft shade of blue. “Are you cold?”

“Cold?” She asks me like she doesn’t understand what I’m asking.

“Yes, cold. What you are wearing doesn’t seem very appropriate to walk around the castle.”

“It is what my Master wants me to wear, miss.”

“Well, he isn’t here now, is he?” I press, but before she can give me an answer, I march towards the closet and open it, retrieving another robe from it. I walk back towards Aanya, who stares at me with a puzzled look, and offer the item to her. “Put this on.”

“But my Master…”

“Please, put it on. At least while you are here with me.” Her hand raises tentatively and it lingers in the air before she takes the robe from me and slides her arms through it. I give her an encouraging smile. “I was just finishing breakfast but we could sit near the fire with some tea.”

“Of course.” 

Aanya offers, and the jolly expression returns to her face. She follows behind me towards the couch. As if the room is sentient, two steaming tea cups appear on the table as we take seats by each other and I’m not sure who’s more amazed by it: her or me. Maybe there are still some elves left working in the kitchen. 

“Do you know where everyone has gone?” I ask in a soft voice while I grab the cup. It feels good on my cold hands.

Aanya imitates me. The sleeves of her robe are so long, they make her hands disappear. Giving her a more proper scan, it looks like she has been swallowed by the thick fabric. She is very thin. “I heard my Master talking last night about a group of defectors found in Stranraer.” She explains in a calm voice, using a spoon to pour some sugar in the tea and stir. “Apparently they have taken a hold of the entire town and are fighting back. How mad is that?”

I chew my bottom lip at the information. There are still people fighting out there, I shouldn’t be surprised. I can only hope they last a little longer, enough for me to get free. Not that I could do much to assist them. “So all the men in the castle are away, dealing with that?” 

Aanya nods at my question.

“A good amount, yes.” And then she leans towards with a sly, conspiratorial smile. “It’s just us girls here.” She laughs, as if she is talking about something amusing but I don’t hold it against her. “It's a shame you aren’t allowed to leave these chambers. I find it quite fun to walk around the grounds, now that the good weather is coming.”

I would love to keep talking about the wizards that are managing to keep an entire town from Rookwood, but I also need help with my own ploy, which could be what potentially gets me out of here. I take a sip of my tea before sitting the cup on the table, clearing my throat while I shift towards Aanya. “Maybe, since you are here, I could ask something of you?” I say softly.

It gets her attention, and she leaves her tea right next to mine, fully facing me on the couch. “Of course! What can I do for you?”

I open my mouth but for a moment, nothing comes out. Now I’m starting to feel a little ridiculous, which is something that won’t help me if I want this to succeed. This entire idea will be built on a good performance, so I’m going to have to be able to play the part even with Aanya. 

“Seb… my Master.” I correct myself quickly but she doesn’t react to my mistake. “He doesn’t seem very interested in me.” I make a pause but Aanya doesn’t say anything, her gaze on mine. There’s an expression of enthrallment on her face, as if what I’m sharing is very important and she has to give me her total focus. This just makes me more uncomfortable. “I would like you to show me how to change that.”

Aanya blinks.

“You want me to tell you how to seduce him?” I simply nod in response and she practically squeals, grabbing my hands with enthusiasm. “But of course I will! Have you ever seduced a man before?”

It is my turn to blink at that. “Well, no. But it can’t be that difficult. They are all the same.” 

As soon as I speak those words I know I’m mistaken. Sebastian is not like the rest of them. Rookwood’s men enjoy their ‘spoils of war’. Spoils they were given because they wanted them. My owner doesn’t want me, I was merely chucked at him as a reward and I need to change that. I need to get in his good graces. I need him to trust me enough to let me out of his sight with the confidence that I won’t run. This little ruse could take me days or weeks… Or perhaps months. I don’t have that long. 

I’ll have to pretend that I enjoy being here. That I’m happy to be his property. 

“...but of course it would be useless because the other girls don’t know either.” Too busy in my own head, I only catch the last sentence that comes out of Annya’s lips.

“Sorry, what was that?”

She giggles, clearly not insulted that I wasn’t listening. “I said that I could dig around and ask about your Master, but it won’t help. He hasn’t been with any of the girls here.”

I bring my index finger to my mouth, tracing the borders with an absent gesture as I ponder over this information. For some reason, knowing this makes me feel… better about him. Perhaps Sebastian Sallow is the type of man that does prefer sex when it comes out of mutual desire and free will. 

My whore.

The words are like a whip that cuts across my face.

I don’t enjoy broken things.

“If you had to guess...” I mumble at the very excited woman sitting across from me. “What do you think he likes?”

“Well…” Aanya plays with a strand of her hair, letting her eyes wander around the room as she considers my question. Before long, she is coming to her feet and pacing in front of the fireplace. I watch her with small eyes. “Men like different things, don’t they? Some enjoy it when a girl has lots of experience, which is the case for me.” She winks like she is letting me in on a big secret and I try to stop the grimace that twists my face. I don’t do well, but she isn’t really looking at me, thrilled about this topic. “Others prefer when they don’t know anything at all, so they can teach them.”

“Right.” I agree, waiting for more.

Aanya rotates on her feet and looks directly at me. “But first of all. Which one are you?” 

The room is suddenly very warm. “I… I am sort of… in the middle.” She waits for more. Of course this was going to come up. I adjust on my seat, lacing my fingers together. “I have only been with one boy, back… home. But it did last a while.”

“So you and him…?” Her eyebrows wiggle and let out a faint snort at suggestion. This conversation feels silly given the current times, but also brings the first sense of normalcy in years. Two girls talking about boys. I nod once in response, letting the corners of my mouth lift slightly. “Do you still feel for him?”

I consider it. The relationship I initiated with Elijah, if one could call it that, was still up in the air in current times. He was – is – a member of The Order that had worked for the Ministry as an Auror apprentice before Rookwood’s loyalists infiltrated it. While I remained in the safehouse, he and others moved around, building more shelters and hideouts for the members of the magical community affected by the aggressive transition into the dictatorship.

I was confined in the house, so Elijah visiting was the highlight of any of my days. He was one of the only boys close to my age and someone easy to communicate with, so late night talks became late night kisses and other blissful activities. We grew closer but I never let myself fall in love knowing that it wouldn’t last.

We were at war, I told myself every time he had to leave. 

And then Sebastian happened.

A layer of something sour coats my tongue when I realize that it took me days to fall for Sebastian. Days.

The memories of everything we went through together are besmirched now. But I have to learn how to look at him again like I looked at him a few weeks ago. 

My distracted gaze lifts towards Aanya, who is standing in front of the couch, waiting for me to answer.

“No.” I declare with an unshaken voice. “I don’t have any romantic feelings for that boy.”

This is enough to keep her content and she resumes her pacing, tapping her fingers on her chin with a pensive expression.

“Well, let’s come back to your Master. If he hasn’t acted… It is possible he is waiting on you to do it first, as I offered yesterday.” She points at me with her index while she shares a pointed look and I simply hum to indicate that I remember. As if I could ever forget. “So if he is waiting for you to initiate contact, maybe he enjoys girls who are more… forward.”

“So what? Do I just walk up to him and kiss him?”

I sound too sarcastic but Aanya roars in laughter. I’m glad one of us is having fun with this. 

“Not so conspicuously forward. At least not at the beginning.” Her gaze twinkles with amusement and soon enough, she is sitting down next to me, closer this time. Her body shifts until she faces me and then she leans a little towards me. Her knee is grazing my thigh and the scarce distance makes me jolt. There is no humor in this movement anymore. “Forward like… this.” 

Aanya makes a long pause and I almost open my mouth to ask but then I see exactly what she is showing me. Her stare is locked on mine. So expressive. And then her attention drops to my lips for long moments before returning to my eyes, quietly shouting exactly what she wants. All while her face appears to be angling at me.

“Oh.” I breathe out, incapable of articulating anything else while she reaches with slow fingers towards my wrist and strokes on the skin beneath the sleeve of the robe. It tickles all over my body. 

“This is only a small demonstration of what you can do.” Aanya whispers, batting her eyelashes with mastery. I’m speechless. “It only requires very small gestures. But he’ll know the intention behind it.”

“I don’t… When he comes in, I should…” 

I stammer but she interrupts me. 

“When he comes in, have him sit on the couch and tend to him. Take his robes off, and his boots. Offer to draw him a hot bath.” She paints all of these scenarios in my head that make me choke for some reason. “And when he joins you in bed, suggest that it might be very cold and you require his… warmth.” 

“You know a lot about seducing a man.” I manage to mumble, slapping myself internally because of course she does. She is forced to do it with Harlow, even though she isn’t fully aware. 

Aanya receives those words with pride. Her hand still holds my wrist but she does it gently this time. Not as a teacher but as friends.

“I have years of practice.” She giggles.

“Do you think it’s going to take me years to learn how to seduce him?” 

She gives me an unhurried scan and another smile tugs at her mouth. This one is foxy. “No.” Aanya finally says. “You are a beautiful girl. Besides…” She withdraws her touch from me and waves that same hand in dismissal, breaking the instructing time. “The odds are in your favor. Your Master asked for you for a reason. I think he has noticed that you don’t want to be here, but once he sees that…”

“What did you say?” I almost let her keep talking but something she says makes me snap my eyes at her. Aanya stares at me in confusion. “You said that he asked for me.”

“But of course.” The lack of hesitation on her part makes me feel funny inside. “I heard my Master talking about it. Our Lord offered Sallow anything he wanted. Anything. Gold, properties, women… And he asked for you. Only for you.” The world seems to waver underneath my feet so violently, I’m thankful to be sitting. Before I can even think of asking for more, Aanya’s expression turns into a mask of horror and she jumps to her feet. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I shouldn’t. I’m a good girl. I promised I wouldn’t talk about my Master’s business.”

I feel rooted to the couch, watching her meander in front of me, as if she is talking to someone invisible. 

“Aanya…?” I call softly but her eyes are full of tears and she is pulling at her hair. The sight of it is enough to send me running towards her. Aanya cries like something hurts, bracing herself while bending by the waist. I reach for her shoulders, touching her gently. “What is happening? Where does it hurt?”

She doesn’t answer, her chest heaving as she breathes fast and hard. I have to stand there, shushing her, stroking the onyx hair that falls on her face. It has turned blotchy, her nose and eyes red. I don’t know how much time it passes, but it can’t be that long before her chin rises and she looks at me. There is a trail of tears down her cheeks but she isn’t sobbing anymore. It’s like the pain has gone in a blink. Slowly, Aanya draws to her full height and that easy smile I know her for appears.

“Oh, that was so strange.” She chirps at me. “Sorry about it. What were we talking about?”

I can’t speak for several seconds, horrified by what I have just witnessed. I deduce right then and there that she, and perhaps all the other girls, must’ve been not only Confunded with a spell but with something that hurts them if they speak of whatever they hear from their owners. I wish I could find a way to help her. Maybe I could but not how I envision it.

“We were talking about… books.” I try to speak with a steady voice as I motion towards the walls hidden behind bookshelves that go from floor to ceiling. “Do you like reading?”

Aanya strolls with grace towards the closest one and stretches her hand at the volumes. But she doesn’t touch them. 

“I think so, I can’t remember.” She murmurs absently. “Does your Master let you touch his books?”

“Does yours not allow you to…” I start the question with furrowed eyebrows but then I remember that perhaps she is not permitted to speak of it and more pain will come if she does. So I walk in her direction until I’m standing next to her and the smell of the books flocks under my nose. “We are about to see.”

I glance at the titles on the spines until any of them speaks to me. I decide on Hogwarts: A History and I reach for the thick tome under Aanya’s wary eyes. Nothing happens when I pull it from the bookshelf so I open it at a random page, holding it in front of the both of us. She seems visibly astonished, more at the letters than at the fact I’m able to meddle with it. Which confirms that Harlow must possess some books in his room and has enchanted them for her not to be able to touch them. If I could kill someone, I think I would start with that vile man.

“It talks about this castle.” She points at a paragraph and I nod. I hear the sigh she lets out. “You are so lucky.”

The words land on me like a physical blow and I don’t even dare to give her a sidelong glance before I offer the book to her.

“Here. Read it.” It takes her a moment to accept the volume in her hands. It’s big and she looks like a terrified kid for a moment. “You can read any book you want when you come to visit me.”

It’s slow but eventually, Aanya beams at me, hugging the book against her chest.

I smile back at her and I don’t even have to fake it this time.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

She stays until after lunch but refuses the food I offer her after it appears in a tray on the tea table. It is enough for the both of us but Aanya promises she isn’t hungry. I don’t believe her but I also don’t insist.

On her way out she gives the robe back, and not even a powerful spell like the Confundus one can eliminate the goosebumps on her skin when the cool air of the corridor hits her.

But she still smiles at me and there is a gleam of life in her eyes that feels authentic this time. 

Alone again, I go over our conversation while pacing around the bedroom. 

Aside from the moments where my mouth has been faster than my brain and Sebastian gave me a little reminder of the power structure, I haven’t been majorly mistreated. He hasn’t hit me, he hasn’t starved me, he hasn’t touched me against my will… 

My thoughts take me to the dinner with his Slytherin friends and how he switched on me quicker than a light turns on a minute before Rookwood was walking in.

Now more than ever I can’t help but believe that he did it on purpose to get us out of there.

Inadvertently, I reach for my collar and I trace the length in back and forth movements as I stand by the window. 

He asked for you. 

Only for you.

I start to justify this behavior. To create excuses and explanations for all that he does. Maybe, in a twisted way, he is trying to spare me from something far worse than him, which could very well be Rookwood himself.

My whore.

My fist clenches around the golden tether. I am in no position to vindicate him, nor do I desire to. All of these treacherous thoughts to defend him only come from being in love with him.

Used to being in love with him, I make a point to remind myself.

I won’t be altering my plans of escaping. I’ll do whatever is necessary to achieve that. Including becoming the whore he wants me to be.

For hours I stand there, by the window. Staring down at the beautiful flowers. Hoping to make Aanya proud.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I wear red tonight. Something a lot bolder than my previous nightgowns, if that is even possible. This one is completely sheer from top to bottom, with a plunging neckline. And matching lace panties that everyone can see through the fabric. My breasts are out in the open, more so than yesterday. The outfit is completed with red stockings. 

I’m naked for all intents and purposes. 

After hyperventilating in front of the mirror for an hour, I gather myself. Drastic situations call for drastic measures, I suppose.

I need to fucking do this.

I think it’s the anticipation that’s destroying my nerves the most. With no idea of what time Sebastian is going to make his appearance, I’m left alone with only stress and uncertainty. I know for a fact he will be here tonight and he is going to stay back until the gala, which should happen in a week. 

So have exactly seven days to create some rapport until he is sent again to carry out Rookwood’s missions. 

The air is mercilessly cold in the bedroom so I stand closer to the fire, right by the couch. Absorbed with the way the flames dance around, I only realize the door has opened when I hear it closing again.

Startled, I turn on my feet. And I see him standing there. I believe our gazes meet at the same time because Sebastian appears to be in the middle of taking the leather gloves off his hands before his eyes find me. 

And then he goes so still that I feel a prickle of satisfaction in my chest. 

His mask is glued to me as if nothing else exists and I can almost see the path it trails down my body.

I keep my back straight, refusing to hide from his inspection. Displaying a confidence that comes out of pure stubbornness. And maybe the fact that he seems to be unable to stare away from me.

My lips become dry out of nowhere so I lick them slowly. I think he might be looking at that, too.

When it’s clear to me that Sebastian is not going to say anything, I take it upon myself to speak first.

“How was your day?” My voice is sweeter than honey and perhaps the one thing that forces him to resume the task of getting rid of the gloves. Which he does without moving away from the frame.

“Good.” Sebastian replies flatly, finally breaking eye contact. “What are you wearing?”

“My clothes for dinner.” 

I declare as I take a single step away from the fire, in his direction. The motion catches his focus again and his face angles at me.

“We won’t be going down tonight. Put something else on.”

If he hadn’t been watching me with such intensity, I would’ve thought by the bored tone that he isn’t even remotely interested. Especially when he marches down the bedroom towards his little secret door, seemingly eager to abandon me.

“Do you not like what I’m wearing?” 

My question stops him. I’m happy to stay in, not only because I have no desire to face Rookwood but because this plan would work best if I have some time alone with him. Time alone with a man that lied to me about how I came to be in his possession but seems to be indifferent to my obvious advances.

“No, I don’t.”

Sebastian coos, not failing to bruise my ego. I try not to huff.

“Should I take it off?” He doesn’t answer, but his mask tilts towards me and we stare at each other again. I know he is trying to decipher what I’m doing. Maybe I’m being too obvious. Maybe he doesn’t like forward. Maybe… he prefers sweet. “Would you like that?”

He gives in, at last, sauntering all the way down to the fireplace until he towers above me. I make sure to present him with what I learned from my lesson today. I stare at him through my eyelashes and I bat them slowly for several seconds before I follow an invisible triangle over his mask: from right eye to left eye and then down to his mouth.

Sebastian comes a step closer. I can almost feel his warmth.

“As a matter of fact, I would.” He rasps and something dark stirs inside me. Something that comes abruptly. My heart pulses in my ears. “Take it off. Just to make sure you aren’t carrying anything you can slice my neck with.”

I have a gut feeling that he is challenging me, especially because the negligee doesn’t hide anything away. Sebastian knows what I’m doing and he wants to see how far I would go. I cannot back off. So I stretch my arms out at each side of me, offering myself to him.

“If you are so concerned about it…” I tug my head back and stare right into his eyes as I whisper. “...feel me up yourself.”

I wait for him. I wait for him to take a step back and show me that coldness he has been treating me with. But he doesn’t.

Instead, both his hands find my ribcage at the same time and I have to swallow the gasp of surprise. I’m sure he can sense my violent heartbeat underneath his fingertips, although he says nothing about it. 

His thumbs are the most exploratory digits and he makes sure to use them to stroke right around the swell of my breasts in a downward path. Sedated, almost as if taunting me.

No, I’m sure he is taunting me.

Nonetheless, Sebastian hunches over me like he is about to demand I kiss his mask. I could if I make a pout. The distance between us is inexistent. 

His palms continue to touch lower and lower and I can almost feel our body heat mingling together; him with no gloves and I, wearing practically nothing. 

I should feel disgusted by this, no matter how good of an actress I can manage to be, the revulsion should still fill my stomach. And it does. I think. 

His left thumb has now found the outside of my thigh, but the right one still lingers around the band of my underwear over the negligee. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he is fascinated by that particular spot of my body. 

I try to maintain a steady breathing while Sebastian brushes his way around to the back of my thighs. An inch higher and he could get a good handful of my ass. 

“Do you think I’m hiding a knife in between my legs?” I pant. My hot breath fogs the metal momentarily, right on his chin.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you did.” Sebastian replies just as low, his palms suspended in place for a long moment before he withdraws away from me, displaying himself to be unaffected by what just happened. “Get in bed. It’s late.”

“Are you going to join me?” I inquire to his back as he strides for the door of his private quarters. 

“Not for a while.” 

“It’s cold in here.” I’m grasping at straws here, watching in real time how I went from having his full interest to nothing at all. “I think I’ll need you to warm me up.”

Sebastian stops with a hand already on the handle. Not dignifying me with a glance.

“Then I suggest you find appropriate clothing.” 

He enters the room and shuts the door close behind him. My mouth is wide open. Perhaps I’m going to need more lessons from Aanya after all.

Chapter Text

I'm afraid of all I am
My mind feels like a foreign land
Silence ringing inside my head
Please, carry me, carry me, carry me home

 

I spent all of the love I've saved
We were always a losing game

Seven Months Ago

Two days until we reach the first trial and my stomach refuses to be fed. I can’t eat anything, not even after trekking from sun up to sun down. The anxiety is my only fuel. 

The anxiety of not knowing what I’m going to face during these tests and how inadequate my magical education has been for the past five years.

The fire casts a wavering light on my wand while I hold it in my hands, scanning it. Walnut, Phoenix Feather.

I remember, after a dozen of – catastrophic – attempts to wield other wands, how this one pulsated against my fingertips, surrendering to me. Almost whispering in my ear that it had been waiting for a long time for its rightful owner.

The wandmaker explained in awe that this wand had been created by his grandfather over half a century prior, and he always thought he’d die like his predecessors, before seeing it meet its master.

Its mistress.

You are going to do great things, little one.

His words echo inside my head while I keep twirling the wand in my fingers. How wrong he was. In almost twenty one years, I haven’t done a thing. I have been hidden away in a house, watching life pass me by while other people die in this war.

The wandmaker is never going to know this, of course. Because he is dead.

I remember seeing the article in The Daily Prophet. 

He was killed in his own shop because he refused to abide by the new regulations that forbade selling magical instruments to muggleborns. 

I get closer to the flames when the wind blows a little colder on my face. 

“You need to sleep.”

His voice is soft but it doesn’t fail to make me jump on the improvised seat I have taken over a fallen tree. I glance at him over the fire, at his figure lying down on the thick blankets we took from the last town we walked near. Sebastian enchanted his satchel with an Extension Charm, making it a lot easier to carry proper clothing for the inclement weather. Winter is just around the corner and we are at the mercy of the elements more often than not.

I take him in. His long legs crossed at the ankles; the muscles around his flexed arm after he uses his forearm as a pillow; the hood he has pulled down his face until the hem covers his eyes, for an easier rest. The way that his expression is cloaked in shadows, everything except his mouth. I look there the longest while I can.

He stated almost a while ago that we were stopping for a few hours before continuing as soon as the run rose. 

But if I can’t eat, I cannot sleep, either. 

“I’m not tired.” I reply with an identical tone, my gaze flickering all over him. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Can’t.” Sebastian says curtly with the hoarse voice of someone that hasn’t spoken in a while. It creates a strange tingle in my stomach. “You are thinking too loud.”

It surprises me how much he seems to be aware of without even looking. Maybe I shouldn’t be so obvious about what holds my attention the most, so I lower my chin, my cheeks burning hot. 

“I’m sorry.” 

I whisper. We have been traveling together for several days now and a childish part of me wishes he would show more… interest in me. Merlin knows I’m burning with questions about him that I don’t dare to ask. We have fallen into this routine of silence as we walk, motivated only to complete the trials and get it over with.

I do respect how hyper focused he seems to reach the end of a journey that just started, but the longer we take, the more damage Rookwood is going to create in the Wizarding community. I want to be done with this as quickly as Sebastian does.

Maybe he doesn’t wish to get attached, in case I die, so he’d rather not know me. Thinking that is my only consolation as to why he behaves the way he does.

Suddenly, he lets out a sharp breath and a second later, he is pushing the hood of his cloak out of his face and jumping to his feet. With ease, he retrieves his wand from one of his pockets and sways it quietly towards the ground. The blankets fold over themselves in the air, landing neatly on the side as I watch with marvel the dexterity of his movements. And how easy he performs nonverbal spells. 

Trying not to gape, I imitate him and stand up from my seating.

“Are we walking again?”

“There’s no point in stopping if we are not going to rest.” Sebastian says without looking at me, kicking dirt into the fire until white smoke disperses into the air. “We can take a break mid morning to eat. Are you hungry?”

“No.” I mumble at the same time my stomach growls. I know he heard it. “I’m alright.” He doesn’t press any further and we both get in motion at the same time. I follow after his steps through the protective barrier he created before we settled in that spot. I saw him cast half a dozen spells that I recognized, but I have never used myself. Something nags at me and I clear my throat. “I was thinking…” I start while sending a quick look at the back of his head. I can almost imagine the slight twitch on the corner of his mouth while he tries to hold back a snarky remark. “I need help.”

“Precisely why I’m here.” 

“I meant… practicing magic.” I wait, but Sebastian doesn’t say anything. I continue to walk behind him, trying to keep a steady pace on the slippery terrain. “You seem very good at it. And have the practice while I have not.”

“And what exactly should I teach you?” He sends a glance over his shoulder and I’m so distracted by it, my foot slides on a rock and I fall on my ass, groaning in pain. Sebastian comes to a halt and swivels on his feet to stare down at me. He appraises me the same way he would do a pebble. I’m so embarrassed I may explode. “Perhaps we should start with conjuring a walking support? Or maybe I should just hold your hand all the way to the trials.” 

I know he is mocking me but the thought of our entwined fingers fills me with very funny feelings. I’m back at Hogwarts all over again. I feel like a stupid girl obsessing over a boy that couldn’t care less, all while the world is turning upside down. 

“Not… that.” I say in a mutter while I slowly get up on my own and rub my hands against my robes to clean them from leaves and dirt. “I thought that maybe we could… make longer stops. And… you could show me some useful spells.” 

Sebastian watches me for a long minute. This is the most attention he has given me in a while and I think I go boneless under that penetrating gaze of his. 

“We don’t have that kind of time.” He doesn’t sound as clipped as before, but his tone remains final. My shoulders sag at it. Of course we don’t. “But once you complete all the trials, maybe I could…” 

He doesn’t finish that thought but I also don’t think he needs to. He isn’t a liar. Sebastian doesn’t need to linger around me once I discover the repository, that much is clear. This journey is transactional for the both of us, in a way: I need him to keep me alive and he needs me to end this war. That notion sets like burning ink on me while we stare at each other. 

If we survive this, we’ll probably never see each other again. 

I finally nod once in response, averting my gaze as I resume the trek. Neither does he say anything else, walking after me. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sebastian doesn’t join me in bed. And I’m wide awake for hours staring at the canopy. I didn’t think my plan was going to work with a single interaction, but I also expected him to be more… receptive.

I sit on the mattress and stare at the door at the end of the bedroom, hearing nothing coming from behind it. What is he doing there? I can guess it could be the research that Rookwood has tasked him with. 

I’m dying to get answers to anything. Aanya is out of the question, or any of the other girls for that matter. I don’t want to hurt them. 

But I want to know more about this town that’s fighting back dark wizards. I want to know what The Daily Prophet is saying and how veracious the articles are compared to this new reality. Last I heard, almost every media outlet is in Rookwood’s pocket. I want to know if the people at The Order I was close with are alive. 

I haven’t seen them in over eight months. I know they are out there, somewhere, fighting to get me back.

Sebastian seems like the only person that could give me what I need, but I can’t guarantee he’ll say something of value. 

I don’t understand him. Or my feelings for him.

They shift from one side to the other and I go from being angry to grieve our fake friendship in the span of minutes.

I wish I could see inside his head. 

I sometimes think he can see inside mine. Takes him a single glance and he’s probably already right. He asked for me. I’m his whore.

His to torment.

His to torture.

His to punish.

Sometimes he enjoys my mouth, sometimes he wants me to know my place. 

Sometimes he lets me get closer, most times there’s a wall of ice that separates us. 

My fingers curl on the bed sheets while I continue to stare at the door, as if I can will it to open. As if I could beseech him with my thoughts alone to join me in bed. I should be happy to be left alone, considering my circumstances. These walls may be my prison but while in here, I’m safe.

Safer than the rest of the women that live in this castle. 

The sole idea of accepting my chains fills my throat with bile. 

I make the decision and a second later, I’m pulling the blankets aside to slide out of the bed. The small flames in the fireplace flicker around, throwing a little light around the bedroom while I make my way down to the door. My fist only lingers momentarily before I’m knocking softly on the wood, waiting for an answer.

There is none.

No noise, either. 

Is he asleep in there? If he has a bed, I’m almost positive he wouldn’t be sharing mine. Definitely not when he knew I had a knife.

My heart is pounding in anticipation for whatever is going to happen next. Long seconds pass until I hear heavy steps and the doorknob turning. I come face to face with my captor.

Sebastian is wearing something similar to what he wore the night prior: black sweatpants and a gray cotton shirt.

It feels like a physical blow to see him out of his uniform, looking almost ordinary. 

His expression is constricted into mild exasperation as he regards me, his arms bracing both the frame and the door. He doesn’t want me to look inside. Still, I catch the light slipping from within the room and shelves and shelves full of books. There is also a desk. And that’s the extension of my reach.

An office.

Sebastian angles down his head, catching my attention. My stare returns to his face. 

“What do you want?” He asks flatly. 

I try not to shrink under his presence. It is clear he wasn’t sleeping. If the parchments and open tomes on the desk are an indication of it. 

“I can’t sleep.” I remain stoic, my voice as sweet as before, when he marched into the room for the first time that night. “I was wondering if we could talk.” 

I prepare for Sebastian to shut me down. To snarl at me to return to bed and not bother him any longer. But he doesn’t do that. Instead, he takes a step closer and leans on the door frame, folding his arms over his chest. 

“And what exactly do you wish to talk about?” 

I sense a slight taunting undertone. He is entertaining this for as long as I amuse him, it seems. Perhaps I have caught him in a good mood. I wonder if I can attempt to seduce him again, and this time make it work. 

“I have questions.” 

I whisper softly as I imitate him and take a small step in his direction. I have no reason to but I pretend I do it to stroke absently at the frame he reclines against. In reality, it is a calculated move to be closer to him. Without the mask I’d have a better chance to read him. Sometimes I think he is an entirely different person when he puts it on. Maybe this Sebastian will be more agreeable. 

“You have questions.” 

He repeats after me, impassive. As I stand there, feigning extreme innocence while I allow my fingertips to caress the wood, I get the first hint of his scent. It is clear he has showered recently because the clean smell still lingers around him. An office with a private bathroom, then.

“Yes. I believe you owe me that much.” 

I demand with exaggerated politeness, raising my eyes to meet his. His gaze is fixated on my face for a long while and then it drips down my body, at what I’m wearing. I took his advice, of course. It is too cold to wear nothing but layers, so I’m currently swathed in a thick robe. I curse myself for being so stupid. I should’ve remembered to at least untie it so he could see the satin nightgown underneath. 

“Is that right?” 

He drawls, more like an assertion than a question. Slowly, his eyes come back to my face as he tilts his head to one side. It feels like he is about to pounce on me, reading into my weaknesses. Meanwhile, I reciprocate his stare with big eyes. Coy. 

“What are your expectations of me?” I speak quietly, dragging the end of almost every word. 

“I remember giving you instructions several days ago. Do you need to be reminded of them?”

Sebastian looks so lethally still and yet, I swear I hear the seductive notes in his question. Almost as if he is… matching what I’m giving him. 

His eyes slide down to my body for the second time. Only for a moment. He blinks slowly, and then his attention is back on my face. 

I realize then that he has a lot more sway at this than I do. As inscrutable as he may be, Sebastian Sallow could only let his eyes do the talking if he wanted to. And as it happens, he does want to.

A shiver runs down my spine and I stiffen involuntarily.  

“You told me my job was to make you comfortable.” 

I offer my answer with another step forward. Almost grazing him now. He doesn’t back away into his office, continuing to rest his weight on the frame as he watches me. Something flashes in his gaze, too fast to decipher. 

“I did.” Sebastian concedes. And then he does something that knocks the oxygen out of me: he unfolds his right arm from his chest and extends it in between us until his fingers touch the knot that keeps my robe close. “And I suppose you are here tonight to make me… comfortable.”

“Yes.” I sound breathless. 

I did not anticipate him surrendering so fast. I did not anticipate me having to go through with something like this. His long fingers slip skillfully through the loop and he gives it a firm tug that makes the knot loose. 

Those same fingers he uses to hold the wand that kills people suddenly are so, so gentle as he unties my robe and I feel the cold air slithering in.

“And what are those questions you have?” Sebastian coos, fixated in pushing the flaps of the robe to the sides so he can fully appreciate the camisole beneath. Nothing as flashy as what I had put on to receive him, but still short. Pearly white. “I shall endeavor to answer them to the best of my abilities.”

My mouth becomes useless and so does my brain. Only because Sebastian is looking at me like I’m a meal and he is… famished. He has never looked at me like this. 

I gulp down the rock stuck in my throat. Now or never.

“Where did you go today?” I manage to say while his fingertips, now that he has a full visual of my sleepwear, faintly waver over the fabric from my navel up to the middle of my chest. It tickles. 

“To take care of very unpleasant things.” 

Sebastian replies as he straightens up from the frame and starts to walk in my direction, coaxing me to do the same backwards. And then he is turning us around, against the wall outside of his office. My back presses on it and now I have nowhere else to go, cornered in between the stone and his chest. 

“Did you kill people?” I manage to inquire in a hushed tone. My senses are currently overwhelmed with his proximity. 

“Yes.” 

Goosebumps cover my skin at his answer. The alarm must be reflected in my eyes when I look up at him because he gives me a wry side smirk. He doesn’t say anything else.

If what Sebastian is sharing with me is correct, one stronghold for The Order has been weakened today. I can only hope some people still made it through the Apparition Line in time to leave the country.

“What are you researching?” I blurt out the question as Sebastian’s hands dip with leisure inside the robe and he brushes my sides in a gentle caress.

I can’t stop thinking about his hands. What they have done, today out of all days. And what they are doing to me right now.

His spine curves to lean over me and his hot breath tickles my temple. I see the necklace hiding inside the shirt he wears to sleep, holding the key to my freedom. So, so close. And yet, so far. My fists tighten on his collar, more to keep myself upright than anything else.

“Your magic, of course.” His voice is a purr as he gets closer to my ear. His movements gentle. “Any other questions?”

He is giving me the answers so willingly that I know he is going to want something in return. This very thing I’m offering him, not thinking I’d have to go through with this. My bravado falters. I have the confirmation to my suspicions finally, but it still feels like a blow. Rookwood is gathering all the books that speak about Ancient Magic, but what for? What is he looking into?

Sebastian’s mouth hovers on the side of my head down to my neck and I feel my pulse quickening when he presses his lips below my ear. I practically jolt in his arms, letting out a whimper. It feels wrong in so many ways. I can’t want this.

I can’t want someone who is a monster.

“What… What’s happening to all the muggleborn families? How can… Ah!” A moan rips out of my mouth when he sinks his teeth on the skin of my neck. Not hard enough to hurt but a pulse of heat shoots down my stomach. “Sebastian!”

He chuckles deep and dark while his hands bury deeper inside the robes, moving behind my thighs. Unlike a few hours before, this time he does dare to grab right under my ass and gives a squeeze that forces me against him. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? My full attention?” Sebastian rasps as he grinds his hips on mine, drawing gasps out of me. “Now you have it.” Our bodies enter a rhythm with each other that I have no control of. I dig my nails on his back and my vision is nothing but his broad shoulder, shielding the rest of the bedroom from sight. “We can revisit your questions after I fuck you. If you manage to put two thoughts together when I finish with you, that is.” 

“Wait, I…” I try to mumble, my body going as rigid as a stone. 

“Wait?” He repeats after me and then one of his hands progresses up to grab a handful of my hair before he is tugging my head back to speak against my mouth. His pupils are blown wide and he has a sort of feral look on his face that makes me tremble. “What are we waiting for?”

“If we are going to do this, I want answers first.” I manage to breathe out, trying to prepare myself for what’s next. But Sebastian has other plans.

“Let me make one thing clear.” There’s a hard edge on his voice now. Far gone are the seductive voice and the rubbing against me and whispering lewd comments in my ear. A front, that’s what it was. “We… aren’t going to do anything. I have no interest in taking you to bed.” Sebastian’s voice is cold. Cruel. Definitive. “I do not want you.”

His fingers are solid on my hair but I forget all about the pain as soon as he speaks.

“Then why did you ask Rookwood for me?” 

I spit out, letting my fingers dig on his chest. Wishing that is enough to hurt him. He gives me a guarded stare and I see the muscles around his jaw clenching unmistakably, as if asking me to thread carefully. It lasts barely a second before he withdraws all emotions from his face. But it’s too late because I saw it.

“Who said that I did?” He asks with a dangerous tone that forces me to swallow. I stay silent, refusing to give him a name. Sebastian cocks his head to the side without breaking eye contact, watching me with dark eyes. “Perhaps I shall take Aanya away from you. Her company is a privilege that you obviously do not deserve.”

I didn’t think about it before but it becomes clear now that Sebastian is aware of Aanya’s visits. Of course he knows. Of course it wasn’t Harlow’s idea to send her to the room. It had been his all along. 

“Please, don’t.” I plead in a low voice. The last thing I want is for him to cut me off completely from the rest of the castle. 

“What else did she say to you?” Sebastian questions harshly. I open my mouth but he gives me a pointed look. “Do not lie to me. I will know.”

I close my mouth again and I simply stare back at him with imploring eyes. I don’t find any mercy in them. 

“She told me about… Stranraer.” I finally whisper. “About the defectors keeping a hold of the town.” He goes taut, still pressed against me so I feel the tension of his muscles. His gaze turns darker and before he can even think about hurting Aanya, I speak again, focusing on this subject. “Are those the men you killed? Did they belong to The Order? How many escaped?”

Sebastian continues to watch me for an eternity, his fingers digging into my scalp a tad viciously before he loosens the grip and releases me at last. The prickling pain disappears and I inhale a sharp breath when he takes a step back. That expressionless facade returns to him like a second mask. Maybe this Sebastian is not that different from Rookwood's Commander. 

“Not many walked out of there.” He replies with a clipped tone.

Not many, but some of them. My heart is beating so fast, I can feel it trying to carve its way out of my chest. “Enough to make a difference?” 

“Not even remotely. But they have become a nuisance that needs to be dealt with.” Sebastian’s mouth twitch slightly in annoyance while his attention drifts all over me in a contemplative examination. “A gala with foreign allies and dignitaries was to take place in a few days and they forced us to postpone. Rookwood is not very happy.” 

There’s a certain inflection in his voice when he says the last sentence. My eyes narrow at him, touching the collar around my neck unconsciously. 

“Good.” I snarl, almost to myself.

“Good? On the contrary. You want to keep Rookwood very, very happy while you live under his roof.” Sebastian watches me like I’m the stupidest girl alive. “So the next time one of your friends from The Order wants to become a hero, pray that they die without accomplishing anything.”

“I would never do that.” I say through gritted teeth. 

“Of course not.” He snorts and his upper lip curls on a corner, a patronizing expression still on his face. “Perhaps you are very lucky, after all, that you came to be mine and nobody else’s. You ought to remember that the next time you see the women here bending in pain after they speak of things that are forbidden for them to talk about. Or unable to scramble two proper thoughts together. Or spreading their legs for men twice their age.”

It angers me. He angers me. All of these things I already knew but hearing them out loud makes me want to fight with my bare hands the men that have made them happen. Starting with the man in front of me. I clench my fists so hard, my nails slice into my palms.

“Yet here you are, declaring that you don’t torture women but you stand idly by, letting them suffer.”

“They are not mine to command.” Sebastian says, ice cold. “You are.”

“And you don’t like broken things.” I scowl at him.

“No.” He drawls as he leans down on my face. “I like my things smart. Because this is just a game. And you are the only one who isn’t paying attention to the rules.” I open my mouth to say something but a warning flashes in Sebastian’s eyes. “When we are out there…” He points at the door behind him without breaking eye contact. “...you better act like you love it so much you can’t go a fucking day without it. You better sell it so good that I don’t have to explain why I haven’t fucked you yet.”

“And why haven’t you?” I lift my chin in defiance but my voice stills comes out shaky.

“Because I don’t want you.” 

He repeats with a hiss, enunciating every word. It’s like the mere idea of taking me to bed infuriates him so much, he can’t even fathom saying it out loud. Internally, this makes me happy. But there’s something about this exchange that still bruises my confidence. When I speak again, I sound even weaker than before.

“Then why did you ask him for me?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer right away. I see that stony expression returning, now harder than ever. I used to love staring into his brown eyes. Secretly, I imagined them to be like a pool of chocolate and honey. 

But these eyes are not those. These are black and ruthless and full of disdain. 

“Because you are the crown jewel.” It’s hard to conceive that such a smooth tone is coming from someone so deadly. “Everyone wants to own you. Everyone wants a piece of you. I happen to like when my toys are one of a kind.” Words abandon me and I feel something similar to a knife slashing across my chest. Sebastian glowers at me before taking a step back. “Go to sleep.”

He leaves me there, entering his office and shutting the door close with a thud that rings in my ears. Only after a few minutes I’m able to peel myself from the wall and head towards the mattress. I can’t sleep and I know I’m not going to, not after that.

At least I don’t have to pretend that I do because Sebastian doesn’t join me in bed. His door remains closed the entire night. 

Chapter Text

But it's not real
And you don't exist
And I can't recall the last time I was kissed

Sebastian leaves me alone all morning. I know he is still in his office because I haven’t been able to sleep much and his door never opened during the night. Aanya doesn’t show up today and I’d like to believe it is because she knows Sebastian is in here and not because he found a way to forbid her from coming.

This is just a game and you are the only one not paying attention to the rules.

I have spent the entire night pondering over our last interaction and how he was so adamant in reminding me of my good fortune. I do believe that he is right. I just can’t figure out what his reasons are. What is Sebastian Sallow getting out of this?

Does he intend to overthrow Rookwood? Get the repository for himself? What could be stopping him if so?

Something tells me that Sebastian could eliminate his uncle without breaking a sweat. So why hasn’t he? 

If he is studying books about Ancient Magic, that means that they can’t control that type of power yet, which makes Victor Rookwood vulnerable.

Nobody knows this yet.

My thoughts take me to the Slytherin Quidditch team dinner and how Adrian mentioned opening the library in his manor for Rookwood. His library comes second in size to the one in Hogwarts. If someone has information about Ancient Magic, it could be him. 

I remember that Higgs inquired about it and Sebastian refused to give him an answer. And how, a day later, at dinner with Rookwood, he himself barred the school library from anyone except him and his nephew.

The Order needs to know this. They need to know that he isn’t all powerful. Not yet, anyway. 

And that single idea keeps taking me back to Sebastian. He might be the only one who is aware. But why, why, why hasn’t he acted against his uncle yet?

Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself and Sebastian doesn’t want the repository. Maybe he wants something else. Or maybe he is playing with my head. 

I continue brushing my teeth with harshness, staring at myself in the mirror of the bathroom. Under this light, I look a little paler than before but I don’t dwell on the reflection, too deep into my own mind. Scraping for any information that could be useful to prove my theories.

The smartest thing the enemy could do is to convince you they are on your side.

This sentence makes me pause for a moment before I’m removing the toothbrush from my mouth and staring at it like it’s going to give me some answers. Sebastian said that and I thought he was talking about me.

But I don’t know if that’s true anymore. I don’t know if he is on my side, either. I think Sebastian Sallow is on his own side and I would love nothing more than to discover what his motivations are.

What he wants so much that he is living under the enemy’s roof and calling it home for a chance to get it.

It can’t be me; otherwise, he would’ve said something.

The profound hatred I found in his eyes every time I push him too far is a testament of that. 

I brace the marble counter with a sigh  after I put the toothbrush away and rinse my mouth. My head hurts. Everything is happening all at once and I have nearly saturated my brain with assumptions, knowing damn well most of them are wrong.

The lack of proper sleep isn’t helping, either. 

I walk out of the bathroom, at last, almost expecting Sebastian to be in the bedroom but he isn’t. Knocking again is not an option, not after last night.

The silver tray of food is already waiting for me on the nightstand. The meals change every morning but it’s not lost to me that there’s bacon every time. I take a piece of it and put it in my mouth before I grab the steaming cup of coffee. Sugar and milk was already added.

I send a silent thought of appreciation to the elf in charge of my meals and I walk towards the window with the cup in my hand. 

It’s lovely outside. With Spring already here, I imagine the air smells like flowers. I can almost imagine what it would feel like stepping outside if I close my eyes. How the sunlight would warm my skin while I take a deep breath.

I’m back at the cabin again. And it’s quiet. Peaceful.

I’m not here.

But then I open my eyes again.

I take a long sip of my coffee while I stare down at the roses. A minute goes by. Two minutes. Then, as if pulling myself from a trance, I rotate on my feet and glance around the bedroom. To the shelves and shelves full of books. Now that he knows Aanya has been talking to me, I wonder if Sebastian is going to punish me the same way Harlow punishes her. 

Am I still allowed to read?

Only one way to find out. Leaving the coffee cup on the window alcove, I pace next to the nearest shelf, extending my fingers over the spines. All of them seem almost in pristine conditions. I pull some titles out to confirm I can touch them and nothing happens. I turn pages around mindlessly and then I go to another random book. Some of the names include Hogwarts: A History, Quidditch Through The Ages and Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them. 

I also recognize some of the books we used for classes, such as Advanced Potion Making, Theory of Magic and Dark Arts Defense. 

I don’t expect Sebastian to have left anything related to my magic out here, obviously. So I keep reading every single name in front of me until my fingertips reach a book that seems out of place and they linger there.

It’s a muggle book. 

A classic romance. 

The spine looks too cracked compared to the rest of the books. Why would Sebastian have been reading something like this? In disbelief, I pull the small volume out of its confinement and stare at the front cover. It seems like an old edition, brittle and full of creases.

This cover has flowers that once upon a time were specked in with gold glitter but now it appears to be just dust.

With furrowed eyebrows, I open the book to the first page. My mouth parts slightly, shocked by what I see inside.

The first page doesn’t match the name in the spine. It seems as if someone had put the wrong cover in this book. Just to be sure, I keep turning the pages almost frantically, but all I see is evidence of what the main page says.

Pride and Prejudice, the cover says.

The first page of the book reads Guide to Advanced Occlumency by Maxwell Barnett.

I stare at those letters for hours and then my chin lifts towards the door of Sebastian’s office. Did he put this here for me to find? It has to be intentional. My grip tightens around the hardcover before I walk towards the window again. I sit on the alcove and take a long sip of coffee.

And then, I start to read.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Page 1.

Introduction.

Occlumency is the art of self mastery over one’s mind against Legilimency. Occlumency involves knowing your mind on such an intimate level that it can be controlled, protected, and even self manipulated. A person who practices this art is known as an Occlumens.

Page 2.

Etymology.

The word "occlumency" comes from the Latin occludere, meaning "to shut up" and mens, for "mind".

Page 4.

Levels of Occlumency:

Level I:

Understanding your own mind and being able to sense irregularities within it. One uses meditation in order to achieve that. 

Level II:

It represents an extension of the first stage of Occlumency. On the passive side of Occlumency one dives deeper into the process of self-exploration of one's mind. At level two one learns to read one's own thoughts and emotions on a deeper level enabling one to evaluate their own emotions accurately and clinically {...} This process can be deemed as a subskill of level two, though, it is not technically classified as one as without a very strong grasp on this concept the wielding of other sub skills within this field will prove detrimental to one's mental health and possibly their sanity. 

The active side of the second level deals with the establishment of 'Occlumency shields' to help defend one's mind. The term 'Occlumency shields' is actually a misleading one as there is no actual barrier that stops a Legilimency probe.

There is a point during the creation of permanent Occlumency reflexes where the person's 'shields' are unstable, since they are trying to work more often than when the person calls on them. Under enough stress, possibly due to high levels of emotion suppression, one's shields can collapse. 

In concept one defends against a Legilimency probe by instantly clearing their mind. This denies the attacking Legilimens the ability to latch onto anything in their victims mind. 

Level III:

Solidifying the shields built in Level II. By the end of this level, none but the most skilled legilimens will be able to breach your mind.

Level IV:

At this stage in one's training they can start building their own Mind Palace.

Page 10.

Subskills of Occlumency:

Subskill I: {...}

Subskill II:

Manipulation or suppression of one's emotions at any given time. The technique poses the danger of one permanently suppressing any given emotion with the most dangerous caveat, especially for new Occlumens, of not doing it as a conscious decision.

Subskill III:

Supplementary Occlumency — it builds on the manipulation of one's emotions. It manipulates the mind to rest at the perfect state for any given spell. This allows one to keep their minds void of everything except the intent or the image required for certain spells, or free of any other emotions except the required ones in the case of esoteric magic. It also allows one to increase their casting speed as their magic will be channeled faster because the mind is already in the necessary state.

Subskill IV:

Compartmentalization — organize your mind so that it flows more quickly, making your thoughts more clear and less diluted, thus allowing one to make connections more quickly. It also helps with memory recall. 

Subskill V:

Utilizing separate thought-streams which can either work independently, or combine with others to increase the rate of efficiency.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I lose any notion of time, utterly immersed in my reading. The coffee is already cold, the cup remaining full when I set the book down on my lap to analyze the information I just gathered. 

I determined almost immediately that Sebastian is an Occlumens. 

If what the book is explaining is somewhat correct, I think I can pinpoint certain trademarks of this in him. His eyes tend to turn a darker shade, practically black. Like a thick fog that’s protecting his mind from any intrusions.

The way that he slips into an expression devoid of any emotions makes me believe he is at least a Level 3 Occlumens. 

How long did it take him to get there? I can’t even ask questions out loud because there is a chance both our minds could be explored, if I'm reading into the situation accordingly.

Absent-minded, I bring my index finger to my mouth and trace my lips over and over again. If Sebastian is hiding something away, that means there’s someone that has access to his mind in close proximity: Rookwood.

I felt it the night I was at dinner with him and his loyalists. When he looked at me… It was like something was trying to crawl inside my mind. 

How much did he see? If there’s something in my head that he wants, he would’ve searched it by now. 

My gaze shifts towards the glass and I study the little of the courtyard I have available from here, trying to leave my mind blank. 

I inhale deeply. Exhale.

Blank.

I close my eyes and focus on that. In nothing, trying to maintain that emptiness of thoughts for as long as I’m able. Until I hear the door to Sebastian’s office opening and I jolt up from my seat, glancing down the room. My first instinct is to hide the book behind my back. Because what if Sebastian didn’t leave it there for me? 

What if someone else did and I’m not supposed to have it? I don’t trust my captor yet. Him and whatever agenda he has. 

I take him in when he appears in the doorway and strides out of the office with slow steps. He has changed into his uniform, but he isn’t wearing a robe or a mask. Just a black double breasted long sleeve shirt and dressing pants that makes him look so… 

I blush and look at my feet.

These feelings are inappropriate and unwarranted. Wrong.

I don’t believe Sebastian notices, or if he does, he doesn’t care to point it out. He heads straight towards me, until he is standing a foot away and I have no other option but to meet his eyes. He scans me for a moment before his arm is sliding around my body and he snatches the book I’m keeping in my hands, held behind me.

My muscles go rigid at the way he examines the title with a look of boredom. And then he lets out a wry snort.

“A romance novel? I would have never guessed.” 

He says it so casually that I immediately doubt every single theory I have made about him putting the book there. My jaw clenches.

“You are the one that had it amongst your collection.” I try to keep the tightness out of my voice. “How did it get here?”

Sebastian licks his lower lip like a cat does after a good meal. His eyes are full of arrogance.

“From one of the girls I’ve fucked, no doubt.” He explains nonchalantly. His words make me wince. “Sometimes they leave little trinkets behind.”

“You have slept with so many girls that you can’t even remember who left this book?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Yes.” Sebastian drawls with satisfaction.

I try to keep any angry feelings away from this information. I’m disgusted, only because something tells me this is true, and I can’t help narrowing my eyes at the bed I sleep in. But a part of me wants to believe he is using that as an excuse to have this type of reading in his bedroom. Gods, I hope I’m right.

Nonetheless, I can’t trust him yet. So I use a softer voice and extend my hand in between us.

“Could I have it back?” 

We stare at each other. And I use this moment to vacate my mind. I imagine a wall of granite in between us, stretching up and up and up, until I’m sure he cannot cross it any longer. If Sebastian notices this, I see no proof in his eyes. 

His head cocks to the side.

“Could I have it back… what?” He purrs as he holds the book hostage in between us.

I swallow.

“Please, Master.”

It pleases him that I manage to say that word for the first time without squirming, I can tell. He, however, makes no attempts to return the book just yet as his gaze shifts over my shoulder, towards a corner of the room. Only for a moment, before it comes back to my face. 

“You may have your book when you finish your breakfast.”

I blink several times, like I’m in a trance. I forgot about the food sitting on the tray. Something heavy settles inside me. I don’t want to walk away and leave something so important in Sebastian’s hands but I can’t act like I loathe that idea, especially since he remains an enigma. So, without arguing, I rotate on my feet and walk towards the tray. I don’t sit on the bed.

I remain on my feet by the nightstand while I quickly eat the pieces of bacon, now cold. All while I send furtive glances towards him. To my utter horror, Sebastian heads towards the couch and drops his weight on it. Ankle over knee, he crosses his legs and opens the book somewhere around the middle, as if he intends to read it.

I go so still that I think I become part of the room itself. I watch him, with a potato lingering an inch away from my lips, waiting to be eaten. His face remains a mask of nothing while blood roars in my ears.

Is it really possible? That he put that there for me and he truly is on my side? He is clearly reading, yet he hasn’t said a word.

My stomach turns and I hurry up to scoff down the rest of breakfast, cleaning up the tray in a matter of seconds. I wipe my hands on a napkin and walk towards him. He doesn’t raise his eyes from the book right away.

“Can I have it back now?” I sound too insistent and I curse myself for it, so I add a note of saccharine into my voice when I speak again. “Please, Master?”

Sebastian makes me wait a little before he shuts the book close with a thud and offers it to me. I reach back, but when I grab it, he doesn’t let go of it. Our gazes meet.

“So eager.” He says in a low voice, almost a whisper. I don’t know how he does it but everything coming out of his mouth sounds like a threat.

“I have nothing else but books in here.” I reply with a strained voice. “Since you are not going to let me see Aanya anymore.” I only add the last statement as bait, only because I want to see if that is actually true. 

I beat of silence. A muscle twitches in my jaw at the impassiveness of him. 

“More for her sake than yours.” Sebastian says with a dull voice. “Since you are so greedy for answers that you don’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

That statement lands on me like a slap to the face, filling me with so much anger that I give the book a hard tug until it’s free from his hold. I press the cover against my chest and fold my arms over it, almost protectively.

“I didn’t know it would hurt her when she was telling me…” Shame heats my cheeks and my neck. “It happened out of nowhere. If she wasn’t allowed to speak of private matters, why didn’t it trigger when she told me about Stranraer? Why let it build up like that?”

As good as he is masking emotions, I can see the wheels turning in Sebastian’s head while he processes what I ask. His eyes become slits and he uncrosses his legs slowly before coming up to his feet in front of me. He doesn’t break eye contact, staring so deeply that I think I feel how he tries to break into my mind. 

I put up the wall. But I don’t think it matters, so I force myself to stay still.

“She told you about that and nothing happened.” 

Sebastian repeats the information again and I fear I have messed something up. My tongue is stuck on the roof of my mouth and my lips don’t part to answer him. His eyebrow arches in challenge. A moment later, he is pushing past me and striding towards the door of the dormitory that leads to the corridor without exchanging another word.

I gasp, following him with my gaze.

“Please, don’t hurt her.” My plea doesn’t make it to him. He is already out of the bedroom.

I’m alone. 

All of me is shaking. So much that I believe I might lose my footing but I cannot sit still. The book remains against my chest in a desperate embrace while I pace around the couch incessantly. I have the breakfast stuck in my throat and I contemplate sinking to my knees in front of the toilet and letting it all out. 

Before I can bolt to the annex room, the main door opens up again.

I dug my fingers on the hardcover at the sight of Aanya walking inside, followed by Sebastian. His face is stone cold. And she looks so fragile in her pale rose dress. So scared.

The silver collar hangs a little, almost too big for her neck. 

Aanya comes to a halt in the open space right in the middle of the room. I drop the book on the couch like it matters nothing and I take the first step towards her, but a look from Sebastian pins me in place. He closes the door softly, but the low thud still makes Aanya shudder. He marches towards her until he is standing close by. Her chin is so low, she can practically touch her own chest.

“Where is your Master now, Aanya?” Sebastian asks and I’m surprised to hear him use such a soft tone with her. When she doesn’t answer, he places two fingers under her chin and pushes her head up. Firm, but gentle. “Answer the question. I’m not going to hurt you, you have my word.”

Her terrified expression seems to lose the sharp lines at his statement. She takes a deep breath.

“The Lord ordered…” Aanya stammers, her eyes moving from Sebastian to me, and then back to him again. I think he gives her a small nod of encouragement but I’m too busy watching her to confirm that. “The Lord ordered my Master to travel to London, so he can meet with the Spanish Minister of Magic at the embassy.”

An eerie silence falls around us. Sebastian is studying Aanya as if he is waiting for something to happen. I realize, after several seconds of staring at him, that he might be waiting for the curse to kick in. He is trying to see how far she can be pushed before the pain stops her from talking. 

“How long have you been under Harlow’s service?” Sebastian asks flatly.

“Don’t!” I beg, taking a step towards him but he simply gives me a warning look. 

“T–Ten months…” Aanya whispers her response.

Nothing happens. Sebastian’s gaze darkens. His voice remains silky but dangerous. 

“Do you know where the repository is?” 

Aanya opens her mouth. And then she goes as white as a sheet, her body contorting like something is clawing at her from the inside. The most grisly scream comes out of her and I lurch forward to grab her before she plummets to the ground. Sebastian is faster than me. His wand is already in his hand and he points it at her. He doesn’t speak a spell out loud but the screeches stop a moment later. 

It takes Aanya a second to straighten her spine. She is still bracing her stomach; there are red blotches on her cheeks and tears still pooling under her eyes. Unlike the last time it happened, she appears still conscious of the pain she just underwent. 

I’m so deeply shocked, it takes me several seconds to process the way Sebastian is flicking his wand at her, this time whispering something I do hear.

“Obliviate.” I see the waves of magic reaching Aanya and how, slowly, her face transforms into an expression of idle contentment. Like she is in a trance. Sebastian lowers his wand. “You may go.”

Aanya simply smiles and nods. There is no spark in her lifeless eyes as she turns around and heads towards the door, leaving the bedroom without looking back at me.

Mouth agape and eyes widened, I redirect my attention to Sebastian. He is already staring at me with calculated eyes that drip up and down my body, as if he is searching for something.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt her.” It’s all I manage to say in a hushed tone.

He stalks towards me until he is a foot away but I don’t meet his eyes. That doesn’t stop him from stretching his hands to my neck and touching around my collar. Sebastian does this for a while, moving the golden metal around, exploring every inch of it with his fingers. The motions are short but comprehensive. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he might be searching for tears or cracks. I try not to shiver when he faintly brushes on my skin.

“And I didn’t.” 

He states dryly, finally letting go of my collar. I’m too startled to argue semantics with him, especially when Sebastian turns on his feet and heads to his office without exchanging another word. The door closes behind him and I know he does not desire to be disturbed. Which sort of works, because I have no wish to interact with him. The whirlwind that is my mind requires my full focus. It’s in that solitude that I can dissect what I just experienced as I seek for that familiar seat on the recess, by the window. I stare at nothing through the glass, recalling Aanya’s face and how she squirmed in agony.

Sebastian was testing the magical boundary around her, that much I can confirm. What I don’t know is why he immediately marched towards me and inspected my collar, like that had been the reason.

Mindlessly, I trace the metal around my neck with my own fingertips, over and over again.

After a few minutes, something gnaws at me and I jump up to my feet, bolting towards the couch. I retrieve the Occlumency book. 

I cannot believe I actually forgot about something so important, let alone left it lying around. My lips twitch as I open it, reading the first page all over again.

Guide to Advanced Occlumency by Maxwell Barnett.

There is no way Sebastian didn’t realize. There is no way he didn’t put it there for me to find.

I turn the pages until I reach a third of the way, skimming through explanations and theories about closing up one’s mind to outsiders. And then I see it. 

Elizabeth’s impatience to acquaint Jane with what had happened could no longer be overcome and at length resolving to suppress every particular in which her sister was concerned and preparing her {...}

I blink. I move to the page before that, reading through it. 

Since Occlumency requires one to close the mind and not necessarily a wand, an attribute similar to potions brewing, it is possible that muggles are capable of becoming Occlumens {...}

I go in between the two pages several times. It’s incomplete. There are only fifty pages of the Occlumency book in there, the rest belong to the title on the cover. A beat of cold sweat slides down my back. Sebastian opened the book right around the middle.

He didn’t react because he was reading the novel.

I cannot trust him just yet.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Seven Months Ago

I haven’t run this fast ever. My legs are cramping. My entire body is on fire. But I can’t stop. I dash down the slope towards the stone parapet that connects me with the other side. I completed my first trial but I don’t dwell in happy feelings, not until I’m out of there.

As soon as I touched the traces of Ancient Magic that waited for me at the bottom of the cavern, the entire mountain started to shake. So violently, stalactites dropped in my path, nearly stabbing me to death.

I managed to avoid them and leave the dark chamber, making my way outside into the open. My feet make crunching sounds on the thick layer of snow beneath me. When the mountain trembles again, I nearly stumble and roll down, but for once, I stay upright. I can see the bubble of glittery magic in front of me, a wall that separates the outside world from this one. 

Sebastian is at the end of it, that invisible seal letting him see my perilous condition. 

“Run faster!” 

He growls from the other side. He can’t walk through the parapet. He can’t cross the line. He tried in front of me and the Ancient Magic refused to let him travel through. So he watched me walk the narrow parapet and ascend the side of the mountain into the cave. And I watched him wait there, almost expressionless. His eyebrows are furrowed now and his face twisted into something that feels like alarm.

I can’t think about this at the moment.

I’m already at the parapet and unlike before, when I walked it the first time, I’m flying through it. Chunks of stone fall a second after I step on them. There is a thick fog crowding below that doesn’t let me see what waits for me, should I fall. But I know it’s a certain death.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins. I keep running.

Only ten more feet.

“It’s going to collapse!” Sebastian’s voice thunders. He tries to walk through the barrier again, as if he could actually do something about the parapet disintegrating. But he is stopped, like he encountering a solid wall. He looks around it. His face is definitely full of distress now, especially when his eyes find me. “Jump!”

I can feel the ground giving in under me. Only a few more steps. He is right there.

The barrier is right there.

With panic, I obey, leaping forward. In that moment, I know it’s not enough. I’m still too far away from the rocky edge. And yet, I reach out my arm, as if that weak attempt is going to allow me to anchor my entire weight. 

I’m going to die, I just know. 

And then Sebastian’s hand shoots out and our fingers find, connecting into an iron lock. With a yelp, I swing in the air. My body hanging off the cliff, so steep, I can’t connect my foot with the rock to help myself up. He is the only thing that keeps me from falling.

I lift my eyes to meet his, the way his muscles have gone rigid while he is holding my entire weight. The way his jaw clenches and he is breathing through his nose. Something flashes in his gaze, too fast for me to decipher. Perhaps it’s the precariousness of the situation but it feels like an eternity is passing us by as he watches me. 

Sebastian finally pulls, letting out a small grunt. He hoists my body up until I can clutch my hand on his cloak and he can brace my waist. We both fall on solid ground. Him on the hard floor of the cliff, and I on his chest.

With ragged breaths, we both remain there until the realization settles. I’m alive. I’m safe. 

He saved me.

His chest is warm and his arms around feel protective and good and just… right.

I’m alive.

Face hidden on his torso, I can feel the chuckle ascending my throat and rumbling its way out. I drop my body on the side of him, now both of us staring up at the sky. My chuckles become a roaring laughter that echoes through the mountains and I can almost feel Sebastian’s sidelong glare. 

His arm is still under my back. No attempt to remove it.

“You are barking mad.” I hear him mumble, too low that I think he might be saying it to himself.

But I don’t care. I survived the first trial. I’m alive.

And he saved me. 

Chapter Text

I let you get too close
Just to wake up alone

 

Sebastian pays very little attention to me in the days following the morning he Obliviated Aanya. She hasn’t been allowed into the room with me, and I’m not allowed to go outside. However, I have seen her through the window, walking around the courtyard most evenings. 

Sometimes there are other girls with her. I recognize their faces from the last dinner I attended with Rookwood and his loyalists. 

All of them have the same things in common: they are young, beautiful and muggleborn. 

I have wondered countless times which one of them suffered the Cruciatus Curse because of me. I wonder if they remember it. If they know I’m the reason.

I wonder if they know they have not been forgotten. That somewhere out there, there are people fighting back still. Fighting to bring us home.

Kiss the mask.

I can’t think of one and not the other. Both memories are tied together. I hear the gut-wrenching screams but I’m looking at that mask, forced to brush my mouth on it

Kiss it. Slowly. As if you were kissing me.

I wonder about that moment. And if he forced me to face him rather than watch that girl twist in pain. I don’t know if that would’ve been worse than what Sebastian made me do. 

If there is something I possess now is the luxury of time. From sun up to sun down, I find myself alone with my thoughts and my new reading.

I study the Occlumency book thoroughly and I practice at intervals during the day. I clear my head and imagine that wall protected by a blank screen and then another wall.

I have learned in my studies that meditation also helps. It’s easier to develop the habit of sitting down and controlling my breathing when I have done so in the past. 

And my teacher just happens to be my owner.

What are the odds?

And yet, every time he comes into the dormitory from his office or from the outside, I hide any evidence of the book from him. As much as I want to believe I can trust him, Sebastian remains a mystery. He is the hand that holds my collar and has proven just how easily he can tighten the grip to keep me in check.

Not my enemy. 

Not my friend, either.

After a more careful examination of the titles in the bedroom, I have found more chapters of the Occlumency book hiding in novels with different names. By the evening of the fifth day, I think I have all of the pages, so I spread them on the carpet and I sit on the ground, moving them around until I can put them in the right order. 

Sebastian is not here but I can’t be certain of the time of his return so I move quickly. 

In its more advanced form, Occlumency allows the user to suppress only feelings and memories that contradict what the user wishes a Legilimens to believe, thus allowing the Occlumens to lie without self-betrayal.

I read the last paragraph of the loose page I’m holding and skim around the other one lying in front of me. 

Simple resistance to attack requires similar skills to those needed to resist the Imperius Curse.

I swap the position of the pages after reading the context, hoping that’s the correct order. I continue reading the others, until I detect what could be the following page.

{...} to defeat a Legilimens' lie-detector abilities without suspicious behavior such as avoiding eye contact.

This makes me hesitate for a moment, pondering over it. To read one’s mind, there must be eye contact. Just as I tuck this information in my mental archives, the door of the bedroom opens up, making me freeze on the spot.

Like a child that has committed atrocities without the supervision of her parents, I peer over the mattress at the frame where Sebastian is now standing. 

I chose this spot because I thought I would have time to shove everything underneath the bed when I heard the heavy boots in the corridor. I have been so distracted piecing the book together that it must’ve slipped my mind.

Sebastian’s eyes move around the chamber, looking for me. And he finds me already watching him. He can only see the top of my head and my eyes from this angle, of course. I can only imagine how I look.

Especially since an expression of mild exasperation crosses his features. 

“What are you doing on the floor?” He inquires, like someone who is exhausted from my antics.

“I dropped a book. Some of the pages came off.” I praise myself for the quick lie.

Sebastian lets out a long exhale as he strives down the room, removing his black robe in the process. He pays no attention to me as he does and I take advantage of it by snatching all the pages and stuffing them inside the book. It would have to wait until I’m alone again.

Which would be soon, I imagine.

I’m expecting Sebastian to go into his office, now that he has returned from who knows where, and leave me alone until it’s time for bed. 

He sleeps next to me every night. 

I have come to realize that practicing Occlumency is a tiring task, which is why I’m mentally drained when bedtime comes around so I fall asleep before he joins me. But I feel the warmth pouring from him during the night. I hear his soft breathing. I notice his side of the mattress dipping in with his weight. 

I feel him there.

Sebastian always leaves before I wake up, but his presence still lingers next to me. 

Tonight, I have this feeling that something is different. I know I’m right when, instead of marching inside his office, he leaves the robes over the backrest of the couch and stays in the dormitory. My heart thunders at it. 

“Have you had your supper yet?” 

Sebastian asks in a hollow voice. His focus is on the cuffs of his shirt, which he undoes in a series of skilled motions, systematic, while I finally raise from the ground and look at him. I hadn’t counted on him hanging back. My hold on the book becomes a little more possessive.

“No, not yet.” I reply, attempting to keep my responses short.

There is a small pause as he rolls the sleeves of the shirt up his forearm, an expression of deep concentration on his face.

“I’ll arrange something for us here, then.”

It takes me a second to register what he is implying. 

“Us?” I repeat, dumbfounded. “As in… you and I?”

My tone goes up an octave or two without my consent while I observe how Sebastian retrieves his wand from the pocket of his pants and points it at an empty corner of the room, conjuring a small square table. I fear for a moment I may have to sit on his lap to ingest my dinner, but two chairs appear instead of one. 

“Yes. Us.” Sebastian’s body turns slowly towards me, sliding his wand back into his pocket. “Unless you have a prior commitment you need to attend.” 

I ignore the sarcasm exuding from that statement, sucking on my lower lip. These are new waters and I’m not sure how to navigate them. I decide to do the smart thing and comply, hoping that my mental shields are strong enough to withstand him.

“What should I wear?”

After the evident indifference he feels towards me, I have refused to wear anything else I deem provocative. I have found, after a thorough examination, that my closet carries other things that are not sheer nightgowns and short dresses. 

I have comfortable satin sleepwear and microfiber robes; wool socks and jumpers; knitted pants with matching shirts. All of them are pastel colors. Soft and feminine. Things that I should hate because they have been given to me with the idea that I need to portray a delicate woman in order to be desirable. 

But I don’t hate them. Not when I see what the other girls have to wear.

I’m fortunate that I can dress in five layers of clothing and Sebastian doesn’t spare a second look in my direction whenever we cross paths. 

So lucky.

And I hate that I feel that way.

For the first time in days, his gaze peruses over my attire. I’m wearing a lavender long sleeve shirt and white knit cashmere pants. The only thing at odds with my outfit is the golden collar, but if I wear my hair down and keep the two buttons on the shirt clasped, it almost stays out of sight. Which it's exactly why I opted to do that today.

“Wear whatever you want.” Sebastian finally says, marching towards the table and dropping his weight on one of the chairs. “I do not care.” 

Under the light of the flames coming from the hearth, and the dimmed lamps overhead in the dormitory, he looks quite tired. He is halfway to be twenty five years old but his face remains boyish at times. Except around the eyes. Sebastian’s eyes appear to have seen a rather long life. His hair looks almost midnight black from here, exalting the dark circles. 

For one single moment, only one, I see that boy back at the cabin. The memories we made together for half a year are so hauntingly beautiful, I lean on the Occlumency to shun them away. Tucking them safely into a small room in the corner. But something clamps at me, pulling and twisting. I can’t believe I feel pity for him. 

I leave the book on the nightstand, trying very inconspicuously to place it under a different novel I sometimes use as disguise. But Sebastian isn’t looking at me, fixed in unfolding the cloth napkin over his lap. As I walk to the table, I notice the cups and the plates that have materialized out of thin air, carrying meats and cheeses and roasted vegetables with a sweet-scented sauce that would’ve watered my mouth any other day. But this is uncharted territory and I have no clue of why he would sit us down in the room to share a meal together.

Nonetheless, I take my seat across from him and unwrap my own napkin on my lap. There is a steak in front of me, served with mashed potatoes. It looks fantastic. 

Slowly, I reach for my utensils but I don’t cut into the meat, glancing at Sebastian. He is slicing through his own steak with methodical movements, like a surgeon makes incisions.

I lick my lips tentatively before my question. 

“This is new.” At his lack of immediate answer, I clear my throat and continue. “Having dinner together.”

“Is it?” There’s a certain inflection in his tone that almost makes me wince. After chewing a piece of steak, Sebastian reaches for his goblet, taking a short gulp. “We’ve shared plenty of meals before.”

Before. That word does make me shift on my seat a little, uncomfortable. Before sounds so far away from this reality we live in now. Before, we traveled together. Before, we took care of each other. Before, we exchanged secrets and had long night talks.

Before it was us.

Now… It's him.

And me.

“I meant–

“I know what you meant.” He cuts me off, returning to his steak. There’s a small pause while he cuts his next piece. “I simply wanted a different view for my dinner tonight.”

Only then I realize that I haven’t really seen him eating since I’ve been here. Not on the dinners with his friends or the ones with Rookwood. Perhaps he prefers to partake of his food alone. 

“And what views do you often have that you are bored enough to eat with me?” 

“The library. Pucey’s manor. London.” 

I almost suck in a breath. London. But of course he has been moving around so freely. I remind myself that he is not confined to this room and go where he wishes. I try to keep a straight face and not show how desperate I am for any scrap of information. Casually, I imitate him and slice into my steak, cutting small pieces of it.

“How delightful it is to know that is my competition.” I try to sound pleased, but there’s still a slight bite to my tone.

“You shouldn’t sell yourself so short.” Sebastian asserts with calmness. “Anyone would trade a night out for the pleasure of your company.” 

I stare at him through my eyelashes, my movements slowing down gradually. I can’t see myself but I know I’m frowning. And I can’t stop myself from correcting it. I fear that this dinner is just an excuse to taunt me a little more. Maybe he is having a bad day and wants to take it out on me. Clutching my utensils a tad harder, I lift my chin and level my gaze with his.

“That coming from someone who doesn’t want me is such a fine compliment.”

Sebastian takes his time to swallow his mashed potatoes. Again, he follows it with another gulp of his drink. I had assumed it was hard liquor, but I can’t smell alcohol so I determine it must be water. After he sets the goblet down on the table, he reclines against the backrest of his chair and finally looks at me. 

“I can still appreciate beauty like the next man.”

The praising remark doesn’t fly over my head. Sebastian Sallow never, not once, declared he found me attractive while we completed the trials. He expressed his concern about my well-being, mostly non-verbally. But never anything remotely similar to a romantic interest. While in captivity, he suggested once that I wouldn’t need a Love Potion to get in the Japanese Secretary’s good graces, after one of his friends commented that the man favored pretty girls.

I thought then that Sebastian was merely pretending in public. He did it again at dinner with Rookwood, when it was time to leave and he declared he’d prefer to spend time with me rather than stay back at the banquet. 

Only to get to the room and ignore me.

This is the first time he flatters me while we are alone. I have no clue what to make of that, so I play into it.

“So you do find me attractive.” I remain nonchalant while I proceed to eat.

“I never said I didn’t.” I almost drop my fork at this. Sebastian is watching me. His hand extends towards his goblet and he strokes the rim with his middle finger. I follow the gesture before letting my gaze flicker up his face. “But a pretty face is not all there is.” 

I part my lips to ask what exactly gets him going just to remember that he told me. 

I like my things smart.

My mouth closes again and a thick silence stretches around us like a mantle. I wonder if this is him leaving clues out for me or maybe I’m reading too much into a conversation that is what it appears to be: Sebastian Sallow saying that I’m beautiful but stupid.

I’m not arrogant enough to feel insulted, but it does sting a little. 

“How are things… out there?” I dare to inquire as I cut another piece of steak. I can feel my blood pumping with anticipation. Will he finally talk to me? Will he answer my questions? “I know I’m your captive, but why does it matter if you tell me?” I press with softness, trying to appeal to his merciful side. As if he has any. “What can I do with that knowledge?”

“Knowledge holds great power.” Sebastian says flatly. I send a quick glance at him only to find his focus still on me, so I lower my gaze to my plate once more and I keep eating. “You’d be surprised at the damage information can do, even in the hands of a prisoner.” It’s like he is chastising me with those words, so I don’t expect him to say anything else. Shock twists my face when he speaks next. “We are in control of the Ministry. There are people working on new government legislations, including a Muggle-Born Registration Commission.”

I gulp down a gasp, dropping the fork and the knife on the table. Forgotten is the food and my appetite.

“Rookwood wants muggle-borns to be registered… for what?”

Sebastian doesn’t lose his composure. His face is of someone who is speaking about trivialities. Unlike me, his steak is gone soon enough. “Take a guess.” 

I blink. My guess is as wild as they come, but these are chaotic times. “Is he trying to negate the fact that muggle-borns can have magic?”

A gleam of approval shines in Sebastian’s eyes. “Very good.” Before I can ask why, he continues. “It has been discovered, as of a recent research, that magic can only be inherited, thus any witch or wizard who comes from a non-magical family must have obtained that magic by thievery.”

“That is…” So many adjectives come to mind to describe that explanation, but ultimately I choose the one that sounds less like a profanity. “...wrong. If someone is an example of that, it’s me.” I motion my arms at myself to accompany that statement. “I’m muggleborn.” His lack of interest to answer makes me blind with rage. His lack of emotion is what makes me snarl. “And do you agree with that? In segregating the wizarding community with misinformation and lies?”

“My interests align with what’s best for the population.” Sebastian proclaims wryly. 

A muscle twitch on my jaw. “And it just so happens to be a government that rules with fear.” Before I can criticize him some more, I remember the pages of the book.

There’s a danger of responding emotionally, with fear, {...} or frustration. It is vital to keep your presence of mind, maintaining your mental powers whatever the circumstances. {...} One can only strengthen their mental shields by actively resisting the emotional pull of the moment — staying confident no matter what hits you {...} One must learn to detach themselves from the situation in order to navigate it better when encountered with a Legilimens. 

Sebastian is still staring at me with sheer intensity and I feel almost bleak. Brick by brick, I build up my wall without breaking eye contact. And then I let my mind blank. 

It’s not creating that protection that tires me, I have come to realize, but maintaining it. The book speaks of Occlumency as a muscle that can be exercised. But just like a muscle, it requires lots and lots of practice until you are confident in its reliability.

And once that muscle is well developed, I could theoretically sense the presence of a born Legilimens trying to pry inside my head, which it’s a far more sinister option than one who needs to cast the appropriate spell first. The former can simply do it while maintaining eye contact and most people would never know.

“That mouth of yours again…” Sebastian speaks softly, letting his fingers trace the edge of his goblet one more time. If he is reading my thoughts, I couldn’t tell. “Always looking for trouble.” He says it and his eyes make a deliberate drop to my lips that make me straighten my spine like I have been shocked. 

I let the tip of my tongue out and slide it across my bottom lip slowly, distracted. He continues to study it. His face is completely expressionless.

Gods, he is so good at this. At this game. 

I take a deep breath and adopt a less clipping tone.

“What does the rest of the world have to say about what's happening here?”

With an almost imperceptible shrug, Sebastian cocks his head to the side. “Some are fighting with us, others are resistant to change.”

“Is the gala intended to sway them in your favor?”

“Yes. The power of the repository has been advertised but not displayed.” He explains as if reading from a textbook. Detached. Concise. “Seeing you there may grant Rookwood the alliances he needs to keep the rebellions under control. A lot of people have requested an audience with you.” One corner of his mouth lifts slightly in a contemptuous smirk. “You are quite popular.”

“And what exactly is stopping me from refusing to do Rookwood’s bidding?” I feign a sweet voice.

“Common sense.” His answer comes out fast, yet he drags those two words like a threat. “Which I hope you develop by then.”

I resent the insult but ignore it. After a few beats of quietness, I force myself to return to my dinner. If I can take Sebastian’s slander without showing displeasure, I know I’m one step closer to a perfect mental shield.

“Is Aanya alright?” I don’t look at him. I’m too scared to see the answer before I hear it. “Last time–

“She is as well as expected.” He interrupts me. I detect the aloof tone. Like he believes whatever happened when he brought her into the dormitory is my fault. “I recommend not interrogating her any time soon.”

“I wasn’t going to.” I hiss, raising defiant eyes at him. But then I remember what I’m supposed to be doing and take a deep breath before speaking again, calmer now. “It does sound like you care for her.”

Sebastian’s face becomes stone cold.

“The more Memory Spells that are used on the girls, the more torpid their minds become. Eventually, all you have is a pretty but empty shell.” He explains as he entwines his fingers over his lap and takes a more comfortable position over the chair, extending his legs underneath the table. I feel his boots near my feet. “It’s less… fun. And when things are less fun around here, they get tossed aside.” I let out a small gasp at this, understanding exactly what he means. “It’s rather tedious to replace them, so I’m trying to avoid inconveniencing my men.” 

Bile rises up my throat. I can see my hands shaking and I simply cannot stop it. My angry stare aims at Sebastian, who doesn’t particularly seem amused as he shares this. But I don’t detect an ounce of remorse, either. I compel my mind to think rationally about it. And my blistering emotions to disappear under a layer of ice. 

I’m in control.

I’m in control.

I’m in control.

“I’m full.” I announce with a steady voice. Steadier than my pulse. Gently, I lay the fork and the knife on the side of my half-full plate. “May I be excused?” 

“You may not.” Sebastian says and my gaze darts up to him. I see the challenge when he stares back, gleaming in his brown eyes. Daring me.” You’ll leave the table when I’m done.” Inadvertently, I shift my attention to his clear plate. He seems to understand exactly what I’m silently asking because he makes a small waving motion with his hand and a decanter appears out of thin air on the table, near his goblet. It’s made of glass, so I immediately identify its content as water. Sebastian nods at it without breaking eye contact. “Refill my drink.”

The table is not large so I know I can reach the decanter while seated on my chair. But something tells me that is not what he wants. 

Sebastian wishes to see me serving him. Tending to him. I take a deep breath and I do exactly that. 

Slowly, I come up to my feet and walk the small distance to his chair, standing right next to him. I watch him watch me, both of us refusing to look away.

I’m determined to keep calm. 

To behave docile, like he wants me to. 

My expression softens. My shields are up. I’m in control.

I stretch out my hand and grab the neck of the decanter, pouring water into Sebastian’s goblet until it’s almost full. I try to keep my movements graceful, pacing myself like time doesn’t exist. I return the decanter to the table, smoothly. I don’t glance away from him.

There’s no darkness in his eyes. The flames make them glisten with something a little warmer. He looks less tired now, as if this interaction has breathed life back into him. Whatever I’m doing, whatever we are doing, he likes it.

No.

He loves it.

“May I do anything else for you, Master?” My tone is both honey and caramel.

A pleased smirk forms in Sebastian’s mouth. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he is proud.

“My napkin.” He purrs, dropping his arms to his sides and leaving his lap free of obstructions for me. “If you are so kind.”

I have to pretend that it doesn’t rattle me. The way that he is talking to me. I know he is toying with me and just perhaps doing it to see where my limits are. Again, Sebastian is helping me curate my own mask by prodding on it. 

Another lesson.

Another game.

Without showing any indication of distaste, I lean down until our faces are almost leveled, and I retrieve the cloth from his legs. My fingers faintly stroke over one of his thighs but he doesn’t react. At least, not his body.

His eyes have become a pool of rich brown while he maintains his total focus on me. I believe we have been staring at each other for ages. 

There is a pull, as if we are the opposite poles of a magnet.

The energy in between is so charged, if we touch skin to skin, I’m confident we would feel the electric shock.

At this close distance, he is… breathtaking. And my enemy.

I’m in control.

I’m in control.

I’m in control.

I straighten my spine, pulling my face away from him but not moving from my spot.

“Is that all?” I say barely above a whisper. I notice I’m still holding the napkin in my hand so I let it drop over the table.

For the first time since this whole interaction started, Sebastian stares away from my eyes and he makes an exploratory drop down my body. It’s slow but thorough, and not an inch of me goes unseen by him.

He takes every little detail of my attire; unlike before, when he barely spared a glance. 

I burn under that look, as heavy as a touch. But I do not stir. I know exactly what he is doing.

That doesn’t deter very dangerous – and unwelcome – sensations from settling in my lower stomach. 

His scrutiny takes him back to my face.

“That is all.” 

Sebastian concedes. But before I can take a step back, he makes the first move by sliding out of his seat and drawing to his full height. He does it so close to me that his hand brushes my hip on his way up from the chair. I’m unsure if this is an attempt to intimidate me, especially because I have to tug my head back to peer at his face. 

The uncertainty of what to do next pins me in place. Sebastian has dismissed me but I don’t think he is done.

It doesn’t feel like we are.

I wonder what other lessons he is trying to teach me. Perhaps he only wishes to instigate fear and further my discomfort. I’m expecting his attitude to change any moment now, but he is almost reveling in this exchange. 

“Lavender agrees with you.” 

He coos at me, referring to my shirt. I can see his attention sliding lower than my neck again, with leisure. I don’t shy away from it. Sebastian Sallow doesn’t want me. He has been so specific about it that those words still echo in my mind from time to time. Now I'm sure of what this is: another test of my boundaries. A way to determine if I can keep my true emotions under control. If I can play the game, as he called it.

Magma runs through my veins, imbued with the desire to either ask more questions or slap him across the face for the things he has allowed Rookwood to do. But I don’t do either of them.

Instead, I fake a sweet smile.

“Maybe I should wear the same color for dinner tomorrow?”

There is a note of eagerness in my voice that I’m sure comes off as if I cannot wait to repeat this again. But what I cannot wait for is to have the chance to ask more questions. And I know Sebastian is aware exactly of this. I can almost see it in his eyes.

Instead of bartering sex for knowledge, he appears to prefer a good deception. He yearns for a good liar and I’ll become exactly that.

“Maybe you should.” 

He agrees, smirking like a predator. There’s a moment of stillness in between us. This is the second time I believe he is going to walk away but doesn’t. Instead, his gaze progresses to my unbound hair. The right side, explicitly. 

He hasn’t done this in days. And before that, he did it last when we were different people. I see his hand reaching out for that strand of hair, the color at odds with the rest of it, and he makes it twirl around his index for several seconds before letting it fall down. Something hardens in his eyes as he swivels away from me without uttering a parting word.

Sebastian marches down the room to his office, closing the door behind him. That small moment we shared leaves me a little breathless, but only because of what the gesture once meant. 

Still looking at his door as if I’m expecting him to come back out, I copy his movements and reach for my hair. The silver strand glistens under the flames like a thread of moonlight.

No, not moonlight.

My heart shatters at the memories. And so do my shields.

Emotions run through me like a river, forcing me to remember.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Seven Months Ago

“What is that?”

I hear Sebastian inquiring after we find ourselves back down the path to the forest. Behind us is the first trial but I’m still riding the waves of euphoria after my near-death experience. There is a smile plastered all over my face that isn’t going away anytime soon. That, of course, until I hear him speaking and I turn around to face him.

“What is what?” 

I ask, but he doesn’t respond. His eyes are fixated very intensely on something on the side of my face. So much that I go still as a statue while he approaches me. Sebastian only stops at a foot distance and suddenly the confidence I built after surviving, falters. He has never gotten this close before.

It’s making me giddy.

“Your hair.” He utters in a low voice. I think he must be talking to himself more than me. “There’s something…” 

But Sebastian doesn’t finish that sentence. Slowly, he raises a hand and grabs a strand in between his fingertips. Very, very gently. Almost with reverence. He pulls it away from the rest of my hair and moves it in front of my vision until I hear myself gasp. I had thought he was retrieving an entangled leaf or a twig.

But no.

I see a shimmering silver coating on that strand of hair. As if white lightning struck me and left that as proof. I have never seen something like it. And by the look on Sebastian’s face, neither has he. 

“What does that mean?” 

I venture my question, like he knows something that I don’t. However, he appears just as puzzled. I still can see his mind searching for an explanation while he continues to hold that strand, and then he shakes his head softly, withdrawing the contact. The strand falls back in place.

“I don’t know.” Sebastian admits. “But you were right about needing help with your magic.” I blink at this revelation that comes out of nowhere. “We need to go somewhere safe where I can teach you. Otherwise, you are not going to survive this.”

I can’t quite tell if I’m excited or nervous about this conclusion. He is agreeing to help me. I try to maintain my composure when I ask.

“And where is that?” Nowadays, nowhere is safe. I reach out for that strand of silver hair and touch it distractedly. It feels very silky to the touch. A stupid idea comes to mind. “Maybe we could return to my safehouse. Once they see I was able to complete the first trial, they’ll be more open to help us. They will keep you safe–

“No.” Sebastian cuts me off and his gaze moves somewhere over my shoulders, hardening as if he knows something that I don't. “It’s just you and me now. As soon as you take a step inside that house, they are going to strengthen the bars of your enclosure.”

“I was never a prisoner, Sebastian.” I blurt out with a gleam of defiance in my eyes. 

Even as I say those words, I know I’m not right.

He finally meets my gaze. There’s understanding in them. Like we are both talking in complete silence.

The hard edges of his face soften, and his voice drops to a mutter.

“A cage made of gold is still a cage.”

Deep down in my core, I know he is right. Without giving him a verbal reply, we both resume the walk through the trees. 

Chapter Text

Cold bones

Yeah, that's my love

The next day, I’m prepared for his arrival. Not wanting to risk being seen with the Occlumency book, I make sure to hide it as soon as the sky starts to adopt the first tinges of navy blue. To occupy my time, I practice my mental shields at intervals throughout the evening.

It becomes easier to tuck my thoughts and emotions behind them. 

I do this while I pace around the bedroom back and forth, stretching my arms out next to me and walking on the edge of the carpet, right between the wool and the stone, pretending I’m a funambulist. When I get tired of doing that, I decide that I can grab a different type of reading while I wait for him. 

Hogwarts: A History , it’s my choice after perusing through different titles.

I take a seat on the alcove of the window and open the volume on the first page. I hear the heavy boots on the corridor around page fifty-six and I lift my gaze in time to see Sebastian walking inside. 

He notices me by the glass, his face turning to take a quick glance at me before he focuses on closing the door and removing his robes. Like yesterday, he wears his uniform. Everything except the mask.

I hadn’t realized how long it has been since I saw it last on him, but I’m thankful for it. I close the book softly and leave it on the window before I stand up. To let him see me.

Sebastian paces in my direction, or more so, towards the table he conjured the day before and still remains there. As if he has silently called for service, a decanter and an engraved glass appear on it. It contains a brown liquid. 

Definitely not water tonight. 

Neither one of us speaks a word; I watch him as he pours himself less than a quarter of alcohol and drinks it in one sitting with a graceful movement. We make eye contact while he swallows, his throat rippling. He sets the glass back down on the table as he examines me carefully from head to toes.

I’m wearing lavender again, like I said I would. This time on a gauze dress with thin straps. It’s simple; not extremely revealing, except my collarbone, shoulders and arms. But Sebastian studies me all the same.

And I study him.

He is tired. There is a mild blush on his cheeks and his hair seems a bit ruffled on the side. I determine that he just got back to the school from his travels and came straight to the room. I clear my throat.

“Hi.” I greet softly, taking small steps towards the table. Towards him. He doesn’t say anything, so I speak again. “How was your day?”

“Good.” Sebastian responds flatly. 

I’m going to have to work harder tonight to have him answer my questions, that much is clear. A moment later, I notice the array of small plates and trays that pop up on the table. Dinner is served. 

Fantastic.

I motion at the chair closest to him, quietly indicating that he seats. He does, reclining against the backrest without losing sight of me. I take the cloth napkin and shake it open before I gently lay it down on his lap. When I get closer, I catch a trace of his cologne. I can feel his eyes burning on the side of my face but I don’t glance his way. 

After situating the napkin, I proceed to fill up his glass just a quarter of the way, just as he did. Only when I’m done I slide into my chair, across from him. 

The atmosphere is unbearably heavy. Sebastian seems more aloof than yesterday, and I have a gnawing feeling it is because last night, for the first time, something pierced through that wall of fog he likes to surround himself with. He faltered, and he hated that.

I don’t believe he’ll let it happen again.

Seconds stretch into minutes where we eat in silence and I ruminate about something to talk about to break the ice. A thought crosses my mind and I bite my lower lip in advance, as if hoping to contain the words inside. 

“You have been looking exhausted lately.” I offer. I tell myself the slight concern in my voice is fake and I’m just that good at acting now. Again, he doesn’t answer me. I try again. “Maybe you should come to bed early tonight.”

After his lack of response, I venture a glance over my glass. Sharp eyes regard me from across the table. Just when I believe he won’t dignify me, not even with a taunting answer, Sebastian surprises me by opening the conversation first. 

“The preparations for the gala have been demanding my full attention.” His voice is low and smooth. Scornful. “Turns out that winning a war requires a little more than having the Ancient Magic wielder in our possession.” 

It sounds as if he has opinions in the matter but someone disagreed with him, only to prove that Sebastian was originally right. I wonder about what it is, if he would answer when I ask. I push around the vegetables on my plate, trying to give away nothing in my face. 

“I thought the war was already won.” I respond with innocence.

I can feel Sebastian’s eyes boring on me but I don’t look up; instead, I start working on my shields. Slowly, building the wall and securing it. 

“We dominate the country.” He finally breaks the silence. “But that’s not the end of the line.”

I consider his words while trying to maintain a stoic façade. 

“He wants to eventually control Europe?” I send another rapid glance at Sebastian. 

“Think bigger.” He drawls.

And of course it makes sense. Rookwood wants to put the entire world under his thumb. If I think about it logistically, it could take years to achieve that. He needs lots of people to back him up. But if he has me and the magic of the repository, half the battle is already won.

The problem is… I still don’t think Rookwood has the power of the repository. If that is the case, these whispers I hear about people still being able to fight back would be unfunded. 

Since Sebastian looks more inclined to answer my questions now, I push my luck further by inquiring some more. 

“When is the gala going to take place?”

“We are estimating the end of May.” He brings a small bite of roasted potatoes to his mouth after replying. 

A little over a month away, then. That should give me some time to prepare; I just don’t know what I’m preparing for. Now that I know Sebastian is my owner and he asked to have me and me only, I have no clue what my role is going to be once the event comes around. 

I mirror him and eat a few of my carrots before I go for the next round. Once more, my voice is soft and I make sure to keep any inflections out of it.

“Where is it going to be?”

Through my peripheral I notice how Sebastian continues eating for a few more seconds before answering. 

“The National History Museum, in London.”

I frown at my plate.

“I didn’t know they were open to the public for such events.” I realize, as soon as I say those words, that surely they didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Oh.”

Sebastian lets me reach that conclusion on my own. I can see his hand extending towards his goblet, his fingers stroking around the base. 

“The museum is currently closed to the public.” He explains. There’s nothing in his tone that lets me think he feels any emotion towards what he is sharing. “Ten out of the twelve members of the Board that oversees the management of the museum have been replaced with members of the magical community.” What he doesn’t include in that statement is that surely those witches and wizards also happen to be loyal to Rookwood. I guess he doesn’t need to. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “Both the museum Director and the Executive Board have been replaced entirely.”

“All of that… to host a gala?” I mutter, trying to keep my voice flat but there is still some bitterness left in me.

“No.” Sebastian shakes his head once. Barely. “All of that to secure you.” My gaze finally rises to meet his face in time to see him finish his drink. Sebastian sits the empty glass down before he speaks again. “If we have full control of the museum, we can enforce magical security measures to keep any… unwanted attention outside.”

I blink.

Is he suggesting that the night of the gala could be when The Order will, potentially, be able to get me out? 

While I consider this, I come up to my feet and walk over to his side, pouring down more of the content in the decanter into his cup. I do a bit more than a quarter and then I return to my chair.

Sebastian is staring at me. I have a feeling that he is trying to slide into my head and read my thoughts. My attention returns to my plate, where I push the food around again. I hide from him behind my walls.

“How much of the Non-Magical community has Rookwood infiltrated?” I dare to ask.

“A small percentage as of yet.”

“What do I have to do…” I start, steering the conversation back to our previous subject. “...at the gala?” I’m scared to know. Terrified of what Rookwood has planned for me. “You said a lot of people wanted to meet me.”

I’m hoping that is all they want. Perhaps Sebastian’s protection doesn’t extend to foreign allies, and he would be fine with letting other wizards own me for a night if that can help the cause. 

He takes a long drink from his goblet and I stare again at the way his throat bobs as he gulps the liquid down. I haven’t seen him drink this much… ever.

Not that I attend his dinners regularly, but it feels completely out of tune with his character.

Maybe I have underestimated how bad of a day he has had. But this is good. Alcohol may loosen his tongue. Alcohol can make him sloppy. Careless. Prone to give me knowledge that he wouldn’t if he was sober. 

“What you have to do is stand next to me the whole night and just look pretty doing it.” As he speaks, I raise up once more and stand next to his seat to refill his drink again. I add what I end up assuming it’s Firewhiskey, based on the color, into his cup. This time, I fill it halfway. “We are working on a schedule.” 

I linger near the table for a few seconds, blinking my eyes down at him slowly. I see his gaze traveling upwards quickly. Sebastian is trying not to stare at the naked skin of my collarbone and my arms, but I also detect that reluctance to look away from it. He is trying very hard not to react to my proximity. 

I bite my lip. And then return to my chair and feign engrossment on my food, taking very small bites of it. Not once I let my attention move near his neck, where I know the key to my collar hangs. I don’t make eye contact with him, either. Not until I know he is properly drunk and unable to read my thoughts and intentions. 

“So you won’t let… anyone touch me.” I say softly, almost as if I’m asking more than confirming. Sebastian has told me he likes his things to be one of a kind, so of course he wouldn’t want anyone else to mar his prized possession. Even if he doesn’t want to do it himself. “What if Rookwood commands it?”

I’m not looking at him but I can still feel how his body tenses at that. Something tells me this conversation has come up multiple times between him and his uncle.

“One doesn’t go as far as Rookwood has without listening to some guidance.” Sebastian’s voice is flat but soft. He grabs his cup again, bringing it to his mouth, but not drinking right away. “And to submit you to that type of treatment has been suggested to be… ill-advised.” 

“Why?” I shouldn’t be prodding at this particular subject but I need to know what’s stopping Rookwood from giving me away for the night in order to satisfy his allies. 

Sebastian makes me wait, taking a rapid gulp of his drink. He doesn’t put it back on the table, his fingers keeping a hold of the base. I’m curious to see where his limits are. He seems like someone that can hold his liquor. Maybe I’ll have to be here all night.

“So eager for answers tonight.” 

He lets out a purr and I allow myself to look up at him at last. Actually look at him.

The sharp edges around his expression have loosen up and there is a certain gleam in his eyes while he examines my collarbone. Almost distracted, as if he is taking a very detailed picture of that area inside his head. He drinks a bit more of his goblet without glancing away, and I can feel the color rising up my neck and face.

I clear my throat while I make sure my walls are still standing strong.

“Would you like me to refill your drink a bit more?” I offer with a velvety soft voice.

Sebastian withdraws a positive answer but he finishes the content of his cup in one gulp and reclines on his chair. I take it as a yes and so I dutifully stand and walk the few feet that separates us until I can get my palm around the handle of the decanter and pour what is left in it into his cup. As soon as I set it down, more Firewhiskey appears until it nearly reaches the neck. 

I make sure to keep my movements slow and my expression coy, fluttering my eyelashes at Sebastian just mildly before I quickly look away. Making it seem like I want to stare but I’m fighting it.

Making it seem like I want him, but I despise myself for it.

These feelings come to me rather easily, I realize. But I can’t afford the luxury of dwelling in them when I have a task in front of me. The real me is still hiding behind those shields.

This girl… she is someone else.

I’m someone else.

I start to retreat slowly towards my seat but fingers wrap around my wrist. Firm, although gentle. My head tilts down at those intense, brown eyes. They are half-lidded and I can’t tell if it’s the result of the alcohol or anything else. 

There’s something inside my stomach that seems to vibrate. 

“Come sit on me.” Sebastian says with no room for argument. His voice is hoarse. “That is an order.”

As if I had any doubts about it.

My heart is beating very, very fast. But I remind myself that I’m in control. That this is not me. Only the means to an end.

I let him guide me on his lap. Only once before we have done this. Only once I became a display of his power to a table full of loyalists.

But inside this room, it’s only him and I. 

He has no excuses to pretend. Nobody to show superiority to.

I catch the notes of his cologne and they invade every one of my senses, overflowing me with strange feelings. I try not to squirm when he helps me accommodate on top him. My left hand rounds his neck and I’m touching the back of his head.

So intimately for the first time. My digits brush around the chain of his necklace.

His arms are strong and somewhat possessive when it’s his turn to hold me. He cradles my back with one of them, the hand splayed on the side of my stomach. The fingers of his other hand trace invisible lines around my neck. It gives me goosebumps. Sebastian doesn’t seem ready to talk so I take the initiative. 

“Back at the cabin…” I whisper, realizing that our faces are awfully, terribly close. “...did you ever consider… You know.”

I try to push the pricking feelings aside but it’s like uncorking a dam. All I can think about it’s the way he protected me. The way he looked at me. How it almost felt, in my distracted mind, as if he was tempted to declare his feelings for me.

I delude myself again, believing that he might be doing all of this to save me somehow. I delude myself by thinking that this – my – Sebastian is underneath Rookwood’s Commander. His touch feels too real.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol.

“I did.” He drawls and I focus my attention on his lips. I swear I hear how he might have slurred the words. “I thought about it all the time.”

I try to appear calm and collected, ignoring the fire that simmers in the middle of my chest. I take his goblet and approach it to him. Sebastian removes the hand of my neck to grab it, but the grip on my stomach tightens. Like he might be losing a touch with one hand but wants to give it back with the other. 

“What did you think about exactly?” 

I ask, curiosity and anticipation waking up in my voice. I stroke the back of his neck, dipping my hand in his hair while I watch him drink the Firewhiskey. It gives me a second to peer at the necklace and try to search for the clasp. I locate it just as Sebastian empties his goblet and leaves it on the table. 

He exhales a sight and then cocks his head at me. There is a roguish smirk that wants to tug at the corners of his lips.

He seems at ease. 

“Persuade me to tell you." He implores in a sweet tone. "Ask me nicely.”

I swallow, making a point of staring at his full mouth and the way it almost seems to beckon at mine. 

“Please…” I say barely above a whisper, shortening the few inches. My lips hover where his breath comes hotter. “Tell me what you thought about when we were alone for months.”

I pair these words with another stroke on the back of his hair and I watch his eyes doing a slow blink that indicates, at the very least, that is something he likes. I do it again with gentleness while blood roars in my ears. Sebastian Sallow loves his hair stroked. 

“I thought about going into your room in the middle of the night.” Sebastian muses. “And how you’d be waiting for me in the bed, wrapped in sheets and blankets, with ruffled hair and sleepy eyes. But needy for me and my touch. How it consumed you not to have me.” My throat has gone dry at his words. His fingers return to brush the outline of my bare arm, up and down, filling me with shivers. “You’d tell me this and then invite me into bed with you. And of course I’d oblige.”

Half of me has forgotten what I’m supposed to be doing. My brain is in shambles and I can barely heave a breath. I do believe we have gotten closer somehow. Our lips are practically brushing against each other and at this proximity, I can see it clearly as the day.

The wanton need that has blown out Sebastian’s pupils. Black has swallowed him whole.

A different type of black than when he Occludes himself. This is a dark, unfiltered desire.

“Do I still have to call you Master?” I can taste him in my tongue. Sweet and beautiful and perfect. 

This is not me. This is someone else.

Flames burn in Sebastian’s gaze and his attention drips down to my parted lips, ready to be taken. I’m not sure where his breath ends and mine begins anymore; the lines have blurred. But I find the clasp of the necklace with my index and I will myself not to move from it. The perfect moment to undo it is about to occur.

“You can call me whatever you want when your back is on the mattress and I’m on top of you.” He coos, cupping my neck. His warmths seeps into me, invigorating me and destroying me, both at the same time. And then he makes me pant. “Give me a kiss.”

“Is that another order?” I find somewhere deep within me the strength to sound sardonic. But my tone comes out shaky and hopeful. 

Sebastian gives me a lopsided grin. It’s like the sun has woken up in the middle of the night and casted light on his expression. 

“A plea.” He replies, beseechingly. His thumb strokes right over my pulse and he presses there slightly. “Perhaps you’d need a drink to strip you away from the nerves.” Sebastian leans over to retrieve the decanter and pours a quarter of alcohol on his own cup before he gives it to me. “Here.”

Immediately, he slackens back on the chair and adopts a lazy expression. If only this was the Sebastian that receives me every day…

Hesitant, I grab the goblet. I can only afford to take a sip but I have to pretend for the rest of the night that I want this. With hopes, he’d continue to drink until I can steal the key and his wand.

As soon as the rim touches my lips, I know something it’s not right. I stare at the brown content after taking a little gulp. I can’t smell the alcohol. I can’t taste it, either. I thought it was Firewhiskey but it tastes like pumpkin juice, of sorts.

I realize what happened and horror crosses my face, my eyes widening before I search for Sebastian’s face.

Long gone is the air of lassitude and the playful smirk.

Rookwood’s Commander stares back at me with a stone cold face and dark eyes, nothing to do with naked hunger. 

It takes me a moment to feel the poking on my side and I look down at where his hand is. Sebastian is holding his wand right against me, showing me that he has the leverage now.  

He tricked me. From the moment he stepped into the room, he created this farce to see what I would do. 

The fluster that had covered my face vanishes completely and I go pale. 

Sebastian clicks his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head. I’m thronged with anger while I remind myself to stare away from him and his piercing eyes. I check my walls; they are still there, but too thin. 

“How would you describe me?” He asks deceptively soft. I mutter an obscenity under my breath right before I feel how the tip of his wand ascends up my body, the wood making a scraping sound against the fabric of my dress. Soon enough, it presses on my jaw, forcing me to turn my face towards him again. Sebastian’s eyes do something I haven’t seen them do in a while: they gleam under the dancing flames like an animal in the middle of the night. Only for a moment. When he blinks, his gaze is devoid of any light. “Do I need to ask again?”

I bite my tongue and clench my jaw, containing a different insult. It’s hard to keep my emotions under leash when it seems as if my captor is always one step ahead of me. Making me feel stupid and insignificant. 

His wand pokes under my chin again, compelling my neck back. Exposing my throat to him until the skin goes taut. 

I know exactly what he wants to hear. 

“Controlling. Confident.” I make a pause to swallow, finding the task hard. Especially when I feel him leaning towards me. His breath bounces off my bare neck. It unnerves me that I can’t see him. “Intelligent.”

“And do you think intelligent people do things that could obfuscate their minds?” Sebastian purrs near my ear. 

“No.” 

“No.” He repeats, agreeing with my answer. “So why would I?” I blink at the ceiling several times, feeling the tears burning in my eyes, telling me they long to come out. I will them back, refusing to show weakness in front of him. His wand prods on my flesh, more insistent now, drawing a small gasp out of me. “When you understand how someone’s mind works, you learn how to deceive and control it.” Sebastian utters. 

I feel the way he proclaims his superiority, as if he knows me so fully that he cannot even conceive a deception on my part. I’m predictable.

And he played into that, making me feel like I had the upper hand when I, in fact, did not. 

Controlling.

Confident.

Intelligent.

Manipulator. 

I have been watching him. But Sebastian has been scrutinizing me from the beginning. Learning me thoroughly. Reading me like an open book.

“It won’t happen again.” I manage to stammer out.

“No, it won’t.” His tone is full of deadly promises. “Because if you fail to outsmart me one more time…”

He doesn’t finish that sentence.

But he doesn’t need to. 

Chapter Text

Cold enough to chill my bones
It feels like I don't know you anymore
I don't understand why you're so cold to me
With every breath you breathe

I follow the same ritual today that I have been following for the past week. 

Reread the Occlumency book. Work on my shields. Read some more. Watch outside my window at the bushes full of roses and the girls that stroll through the courtyard in scanty clothing. They don’t seem to mind. 

If anything, I can see the happy smiles from my enclosure. 

I loathe myself for feeling envious of them. Only because they get to revel under the sunlight and walk through the flowers while I wither away within the cold walls of this tower.

I shove those emotions aside unceremoniously. I have been practicing, after all. I try to feel nothing and minutes go by where I manage it. While doing Occlumency, it’s very easy to forget about time and enter a state of total disengagement with reality. 

Two days ago, I remember staring through the glass at the sun atop the sky. Noon, if I have to guess.

I blinked. 

And when I let myself return to the present, the sun had moved several degrees. I squeezed my brain trying to piece together everything I saw in the courtyard while it happened. I did remember.

But it happened so fast, I lost track of time, somehow.

I eat my meals throughout the day. I bathe and dress and brush my teeth and do every little thing systematically. I start to enjoy reading the books on the shelves. I find mostly old volumes, some from muggle authors that I would’ve never imagined Sebastian to own. 

War and Peace, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Brothers Karamazov.

I noticed, when I started to investigate with more attention, that some of the novels are written in French, which led me to believe that Sebastian speaks it fluently enough.

He did mention when we found each other that he spent some years in France with his uncle. I thought, like everything he told me, that it was a lie.

Perhaps not. Perhaps that is how he met the French Ambassador's daughter, which I recalled he slept with a few times. That notion makes me roll my eyes while I grab my next read from the shelves.

I decide on Dracula. It’s large enough to keep me entertained for the next… day or two. I have a lot of free time. 

I reach my usual spot on the alcove with the book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Only when I drop my weight, I realize that my body feels a bit sore. As if I have been exercising the day before.

I groan, reclining against the wall and peering outside the glass. It’s like all my strength has abandoned me out of nowhere.  I’m… tired. 

I can’t recall sleeping in an uncomfortable position the night before. Right as my mind travels to the only possibility, I feel something warm and heavy in between my legs. My eyes widen while I drop the book on the floor and run towards the bathroom. I close the door behind me, as if I’m not alone in the room, and then I grab a couple of sheets of toilet paper before I slide my hand through my pants and underwear.

When I pull it out, it comes back with smudges of red. I heave a sigh, closing my eyelids tightly before I toss the napkin inside the toilet and flush it. The last thing I need is this.

My cycle has been somewhat regular all of my life. But whenever I go through periods of high stress, it tends to disappear. Which is why I only had it twice while completing the trials and it didn’t last long.

Back then, I had the appropriate products with me and the freedom to brew potions that could help me with pain and discomfort without relying on Sebastian. 

I’m not sure I’d be that lucky in present circumstances. 

I open the cabinets of the bathroom closet, one by one. Searching for something that can help me. In a small woven basket tucked away at the bottom I find an array of different paddings and I can physically feel my heart easing up into a slower pace. At least my Master has thought of everything.

Grabbing one of the sanitary items, I close the door of the closet and prepare to take another bath. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The mild ache and tenderness turns into a thousand knives stabbing me by the evening. I can barely stand straight from the pain but I still slip into my pajamas and sit on the couch near the hearth. After my second attempt to get the key from Sebastian turned sour, we haven’t been on speaking terms. Of sorts.

Like always, he is gone all day and only shows up at night. We still have dinner together, the table as silent as a grave. I still get up from my chair and refill his water, servicing him how he expects me to. There are stolen glances. On my part, that is. Sebastian’s focus always seems to be on his plate while he remains expressionless. As if he is dining alone.

Although, sometimes I swear I feel his eyes surveying me from across the table. 

The only thing that I can take as a lesson from the last dinner where he chastised me, is that every time he marches inside the room, my shields double up in strength immediately. 

Putting my pride to the side, I see him as the great teacher that he is. 

I evaluate him as a whole, not only him but the environment he has created for me. 

Sebastian’s chambers have been neat and organized from the very moment I took the first step inside, which reflect on his personality.

He likes order.

He likes control.

He doesn’t overlook even the smallest details. 

I don’t believe he does things without considering his options first. He isn’t careless.

Staying alive for so long amongst men twice his age that would love to see him dead only because he is stealing the spotlight proves that he is good at surviving. Not only that but he has made himself so indispensable that his death would mean a heavy toll to Rookwood’s ranks.

This is just a game and you are the only one who isn’t paying attention to the rules.

Maybe that’s just it.

It comes to me like a small click. The realization of what he might just be doing. 

Everyone is playing the game board. And Sebastian Sallow is playing them all. 

Amidst conjectures and speculations, I find myself staring at the flames until my vision blurs. I’m still holding the book against my chest, unopened. 

For a moment, I feel like a stranger into my own body, watching myself from an outsider's perspective. It’s unintentional, but I don’t fight the pull that the Occlumency has on me. I can’t even feel the throbbing pain in my lower stomach anymore. 

This is different than two days ago. Two days ago felt like a trance.

This feels… This feels like retreating inside my own mind. Nothing exists except me. 

I believe I catch a glimpse of something moving in my periphery before I hear the door of the room, very, very far away. Someone is in the room.

For the tiniest of seconds I can’t find it in me to care but I still snap back to reality. 

The stabbing pain returns. 

Pressing my lips together to hold back a small groan, I glance behind me to see Sebastian strolling inside. He takes me in while peeling off his robes and I detect a small pause as he sets the fabric down on the backrest of the couch. 

I have no doubt that he must already know that something is wrong. His question confirms it.

“What is it?”

This is our first interaction in a week and I refuse to let it be about my cycle. Invoking a stoic face, I leave the novel I have been embracing all day on the tea table, coming up to my feet after. A rush of dizziness forces me to blink several times to gain a clear vision back.

“Nothing.”

Ignoring how his gaze latches onto me, I walk towards the table and grab the napkin that sits elegantly folded on his chair, shaking it open. And then I wait for Sebastian to approach. Same ritual every night; I have learned it like it has been part of my routine for years. 

I hear the heavy boots walking my way before he finally slides into his seat and I can proceed with placing the napkin on his lap. 

I try not to wince after a particularly unpleasant sting. Feeling Sebastian’s eyes on me does encourage me to bottle up any emotion, and I do so as I pour his water and then I sit at the table. I do it slowly and then I grab my fork, staring into my plate.

Grilled salmon.

I should be devouring it but I find my appetite to be lacking. I just want to curl up in bed and sleep. 

Nonetheless, I force myself to eat small bites. Nothing is said between us, of course.

I don’t even dare to lift my eyes from the plate, feeling how his rake all over me. But Sebastian doesn’t say anything, either. Not until his goblet is almost empty, and I know it’s time to refill it.

I’m already feeling the lightheadedness coming as I start to push myself up from my chair. His voice stops me.

“Stay in your seat.”

I can feel the gush of heat radiating from my face, looking at him through my eyelashes. He is already done with his food, the plate slightly pushed to the side. Sebastian is holding his chin with one hand, his index resting against his cheek; he gently makes it tap on the skin at random intervals. The other hand braces the table and he has leaned forward.

His sole attention is on me. 

A new wave of embarrassment surges through me. There is a stare down. My walls are still there, I make sure of it. 

If he is waiting for me to speak first, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I certainly will not explain why I’m in pain.

He left sanitary products out for me, I’m sure he knows.

And yet, I’m still flustered. And in pure agony. 

My fingertips are hiding under the table, digging on my thighs. In a sudden motion, Sebastian pushes his chair back and gets up, dropping the napkin on the table. Everything clears up a second later, including my own plate. 

It looks as if he is going to walk towards me and my body goes taut in response. But he passes me by as he marches to his office, instead, opening the door and going in. I track his path with my gaze until he disappears out of sight.

He leaves the door wide open. 

From here, I can’t see much more than what I have seen before: the desk, the small light on it that he turns on, the rows and rows of bookshelves. I hear cabinets opening and closing, and glass clinking. And then his steps retracing the way back.

I face ahead before he sees me, listening while he closes the door again and heads towards the table. This time, he stops next to me and I have no other option than to glance at him. There is a small bottle in his hand and he is offering it to me.

“Take it.” There is no room for arguments in his tone so I grab it hesitantly. I still search his face for an explanation. “It’s for the pain.” Sebastian replies in a flat voice as he watches me. He is waiting for me to drink it but I’m still staring at him. This is a kindness I would’ve never expected from him; he seems to be reading into my expression. “I’m tired. If you are tossing and complaining all night long, I won’t get any sleep.” His explanation is so dry and tactless, I want to chuck the bottle to the back of his head as he turns around and starts to walk away. I’m sure my hand is already raising to do so. “I’d suggest you reconsider your next movement.”

With clenched teeth, I bring down my palm and take a closer look at the vial. It has a glittery blue hue, almost gray, that makes me narrow my eyes. I uncork it next and sniff the scent, identifying the wormwood and the lavender immediately, but also the peppermint oil. 

“Is this the combination of draughts?” I ask with caution, already forgetting about his lack of care. 

“Very good.” Sebastian crouches by the hearth, conjuring more hardwood before he throws it into the fire, making it crackle. 

“What are they?”

It takes him a minute to grace me with an answer, and only once he is done feeding the flames. He comes up again to his full height and I see him undoing the first two buttons of his long sleeve shirt as he walks back towards his office. He doesn’t glance towards me.

“There is a Sleeping Potion in the mix with the one for the discomfort.” 

I part my lips to ask how he managed to do that without the Wiggenweld, a key ingredient for pain, counteracting the effects of the Sleeping brew, but a new wave of pain makes me shut my eyes close and bend over the table. It lasts several seconds.

When I open back my eyes, Sebastian is inside his office. 

Dinner is over, and so is our conversation. If I can call it that. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

When I get out of the bathroom, the dormitory has fallen into darkness. The nightstand lights and the overhead lamps have been turned off, and only the flames dancing in the fireplace show me the silhouette of the poster bed. 

The thick carpet swallows my tentative footsteps. 

Sebastian is already tucked in under the blankets. I can distinguish his large figure with something that feels like dread in my chest. He is never in bed before me. I haven’t been in the bathroom that long, perhaps twenty minutes. I know he is not asleep.

I ignore him, approaching my side of the mattress. Before I slide under the covers, I drink the concoction he gave me, which I knew I had to ingest right before bed. Even if the valerian has been scarcely added, I won’t be awake for more than a few minutes. 

It tastes minty and the effect is immediate. 

The stabbing pain in my lower abdomen soothes until it’s completely gone, and immense feeling of relief washes over me in small, beautiful waves. I exhale a sigh of relaxation while I accommodate below the cool blankets, shrinking on myself. The other side of the bed is heavily dipped under Sebastian’s weight. His warmth rushes to me almost like a balm and my body gravitates unconsciously towards him.

I blink, realizing what I’m doing just as I do it , reeling myself back like I have been struck. 

“Did you drug me?” I blurt out in a quiet, yet accusatory voice towards the tower of a man that lies at my side.

His face is shrouded in darkness but I swear I see Sebastian scoffing at the ceiling. He is on his back, arm flexed under his head as a pillow.

“A very interesting word to describe it.” His tone is low but pure acid. 

“I’m not talking about– not the brew for the pain.” I stammer, feeling the blush coming. But I’m too tired now. “I want to know if you added… something else.”

“Such?”

Under the covers, I feel my body wriggling closer to him one more time. I care a little less about the repercussions or the implications of this act. In the back of my head I can hear my own voice shouting at me to stop this nonsense.

But I’m cold and Sebastian’s heat beckons me. 

“Such…” I speak a little sweeter, yielding to whatever this is. Slumber tightens its grips on me and I feel as if I’m sinking endlessly into my pillow. “Such…” I repeat again. I know I’m falling asleep and it’s coming fast, but I want the comfort of his arms right this second. “I think you should hold me…”

Those are my last words. My last thoughts, before I give up entirely and succumb to the draught. 

My sleep is soundless and deep and glorious. It feels like lying on a cloud, in a cool room, under cool sheets.

I don’t have any dreams that I can remember, except where I imagine myself wrapped between two strong arms. A solid chest against my back.

Safe.

That’s what it feels like.

And then I’m gone.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I regain my consciousness slowly, gradually. The sheets are still cold underneath me, tempting me to continue sleeping. But when the events of the night before start to come to me, in pieces at first and then completely, my eyes snap open. I stare around me, confused at the view. 

I’m in the dormitory, facing a nightstand that is not mine.

I realize with shame that I’m sprawled all over Sebastian’s side of the bed, my head on his pillow. I sit down on the mattress as if it’s scorching me from my waist up, glancing around the room. It’s not uncommon to wake up alone but today especially I feel relieved that I didn’t open my eyes to his face. 

I can only hope I shifted into this position after he abandoned the chambers. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I don’t feel any serious discomfort while I do my morning activities. Perhaps a mild soreness on my breasts. A phantom reminder of my cycle. 

Whatever Sebastian gave me, it also helps to lessen the amount of times I need to swap the sanitary products. 

Internally, a very small part of me, and I make sure to reiterate to myself that it's quite small, feels appreciative of him.

My fingers brush the golden collar around my neck that I wear like both uniform and armor while I belong to Rookwood’s Commander.

Nothing and nobody is going to hurt you, as long as you are with me.

An empty oath swore to me once at my weakest point. It meant the world to me until he showed me who he was. The oath turned into a lie and then into ashes. Scattered to the wind the second we reached the repository and I saw the betrayal in his eyes. 

I stare at my reflection in the large mirror above the sink as I weave my hair into a loose braid that falls on my back. That silver strand is untuck, framing the side of my face. Refusing to fall into place.

I hear a knock on the dormitory door and my entire body freezes. The ghosts of the past scurry away behind the walls of my mind while I dash out of the bathroom. I have a feeling of who I’m going to see on the other side; a feeling that turns into desperate, miserable hope. I jerk on the handle too roughly and a moment later, I come face to face to black hair and that warm smile.

As Aanya parts her lips to greet me, my body lurches forward and I practically shove myself at her into a frantic embrace that takes me more by surprise than it does her.

She smells like sandalwood, rose and jasmine. I never realized. It suits who she is. 

It is silly. To hold someone like this after having only met them a few times. I don’t think my rational brain can comprehend how deeply attached I feel to this strange woman that can only speak to me of things I don’t care about. 

She feels small under my tight grip; too small. Just as I start to pull back, scared that I might have hurt her, I feel her wrapping her arms around me. A giggle in my ear makes me smile, and we both look at each other at the same time.

“I’m so happy to see you.” I say softly, finding a spark of life in her brown eyes. 

“And I you!” Aanya replies in her usual chirping tone as she advances inside the bedroom and closes the door behind her. “What have you been up to?”

Nothing in her expression or her voice gives away anything about the last time that we saw each other, and how she was bending over in pain because she almost said something she wasn’t allowed to. 

“Nothing much.” I follow after her as she walks around the room like it is the first time she sees it. “All I do in here is read.”

“That sounds so lovely. What have you been reading recently?” Her fingers stretch towards the bookshelves but not nearly enough to even graze them. I wonder if this scenario seems familiar to her. Before I can answer, Aanya exhales a sigh. “I wish I could read. I’m not allowed to touch my Master’s books.”

I take those words like a physical slap to the face, forcing a small smile on my lips. 

“You can read when you come visit me. Anything you want.”

She rotates on her feet and I see pure joy surging through her. Enough to make something inside me crack. 

“Perhaps another time.” Aanya wiggles her eyebrows at me, unaware of the turmoil of emotions I’m currently undergoing. “Today we should go take a walk outside. You look extremely pale.”

Her statement sounds so absolute that it doesn’t fail to make me snort. I can’t leave the room, I know that much. I think the Memory Charms have somehow erased that fact for her so I gently divert the subject somewhere else.

“Maybe it’s just the lost blood.” The corners of my mouth stop tugging upwards little by little when I see the quizzical look on her face. “I’m– I’m going through my cycle at the moment.”

“Oh!” Aanya prolongs the vowel in realization, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the couch. “Of course. That must be so uncomfortable. What about some tea?”

“No, thank you. I’m perfectly fine now.” I say as we take a seat next to each other. But something is bothering me. The way she stared at me, like she didn’t know what I was saying. I ask the question with caution in my voice. “What do you–” I consider the wording, hoping this is a subject that will not trigger the curse. “What do you use for the bleeding?”

I need to know if Harlow procures her with supplies. If not, I’m more than willing to give her some of mine. 

Aanya blinks at me and then she waves her hand in dismissal, as if asking me not to worry about this.

“Oh, I don’t bleed. None of the girls here do.”

It is my turn to give her a perplexed look. I sink further into the couch, rotating my body sideways to face her. She has already made herself cozy, bringing her legs up and sitting over them.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, imagine if all the women here went through this every month. The amount of supplies and resources it would require…” Aanya lies her head on the backrest of the couch nonchalantly. “The safest option is to remove everything. But I do feel so bad that they didn’t do it for you.” She gives me a sympathetic look, as if I’m the one with the short end of the stick. “I remember how much it hurt for me.”

I don’t know what to say. I try to hide how appalled this new information makes me feel. It’s a gnawing sensation deep in my chest that tells me it is a different reason why they took away the chance of having children from these women. 

I shield myself from it. From all of it. Behind my walls.

I hide the emotions I know are written all over my face and give Aanya the kindest smile I can muster. “Maybe one day they’ll do it for me, too.” I hear myself speak with a hopeful tone that’s not truthful to my feelings. 

“Don’t you want to have children one day?” She doesn’t suspect anything, smiling still.

“I haven’t thought about it.” I confess. My gaze flickers around her face as I bite my lower lip. “Would you have wanted them? Kids?”

It doesn’t matter now. They burned and buried that option for her. My anger doesn’t see it out of my mouth, out of my eyes. It’s well hidden. 

Aanya considers my question, and for a second I believe this will hurt her, but it doesn’t. 

“Yes.” Her eyes are somewhere on the wall, distant. As if recalling a memory and not a wish. “A boy. Just one.” 

Silence befalls us, long and full of unspoken things that are urging to come out. There are stories here, around the two of us. That we want to share, yet they remain a secret. I can’t ask and she can’t say. That bridge is closed.

“Maybe one day.” I continue to smile at her. “With a little help of magic.” 

A pretty lie. I don’t know of any spells or potions that could give her back what she lost. Regenerating organs is a tricky matter. Aanya seems enthusiastic and claps her hands once. 

“We could see if one of your books has that information.” She makes that suggestion casually. Maybe it is a good idea to give her a little bit of hope. 

“I have some time right now.” I come up to my feet immediately. “Let’s check first–

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Her interruption takes me by surprise, especially when she imitates my gesture and stands in front of me, grabbing my hand. “We are going outside to the courtyard. You need some air.”

My chest deflates. So much for trying to stir the conversation away from that.

“Aanya, I’m not allowed to leave the room.”

I wait for the understanding and the pity to cross her expression but her eyebrows are furrowed. She doesn’t believe me. “Of course you are.”

There is enough determination in her to make me rethink the limits of my confinement. I tried only once to leave the dormitory and the collar didn’t allow it. Has Sebastian changed it to let me roam through the castle like the rest of the girls without telling me?

How long have I been sitting in here not knowing I could walk out? Lots of questions that I don’t have an answer to, not unless I confirm it.

Aanya leads me to the threshold but she lets me approach it first, watching me with an encouraging smile. I look at the doorknob for an eternity while a cold sweat beads on the back of my neck. More conscious than ever, I notice every little thing now, like the very detailed engravings on the cool brass. 

I twist; the door unlocks with a click. And then I pull it open.

The corridor seems empty on the other side. Slowly, my fingers stretch out and I prepare myself to feel that invisible barrier that stops me from leaving. My hand goes right through it.

I exhale a breath, feeling like a bird whose cage has been opened after years of captivity. 

My first steps outside of the dormitory lack confidence. I don’t think it actually hits me until I’m in the middle of the hallway and I’m looking back at the bedroom from the outside. Aanya is watching me from the frame. That smile of hers doesn’t falter. 

“See? I told you.” Before I can ask her how she knew about any of it, she walks out of the room and shuts the door close after her. “Ready to go?”

“Perhaps I should–” The words strangle me for a moment and I swallow them down. “It’s this appropriate to go outside?” 

I point at my clothes. I’m wearing chestnut knitted pants and a cream jumper that hangs a bit loose off one of my shoulders. Something cozy to wear in the privacy of the room but a clear contrast to what I see in the other girls.

What Aanya wears.

Her dress is of green chiffon and it reaches her shins. The cut seems to be always the same style, with thin straps that tie around her neck and expose her arms and shoulders. 

She grabs my arm and locks it with hers, guiding me down the corridor.

“You look very lovely today.” Aanya assures me, practically skipping steps with joy as we march down. “I’m very happy that you are finally joining us. Everyone is so excited to meet you.”

“Everyone?” I inquire, too distracted with the vision of the hallway full of empty portraits. 

“All the girls, of course!” She gives me a soft squeeze of excitement, taking me through the side stairs instead of the Great Staircase, which confirms they have yet been able to make it cooperate. “They are very kind, you’ll like them.”

“Of course.” I whisper back, quietly.

Aanya starts telling me about them and I feel bad that only half my thoughts are with her. I’m still glancing around the walls and the memorabilia we find in our way like it’s the first time I see it. Rookwood had the decency of not ransacking most of it, although I wouldn’t know why he would need marble statues or the knight armors scattered around the school. 

I walked this same path the last time I was allowed out of the room, heading to the Central Hall for dinner with the loyalists; but now I can actually examine the portraits more closely. I remember most of them.

The man with the guitar in an old tavern. Now it’s just a room with no music.

The meadow full of women reading and giggling. Nobody is laughing there now.

Sir Cadogan, standing in front of his castle while he tells any student who walks by about how he defeated the Wyvern of Wye at great personal risk. Sometimes he would even cross to the next portrait in his black horse, and then the next, following anybody he thought was listening. 

But like the others, his frame is empty. 

All the ghosts have left too; at least, I haven’t seen any of them. Hogwarts is full of people and empty of life.

“...Victoria is here today, she is a beauty! But she doesn’t really interact with us.” Aanya chatters while we descend the side stairs towards the ground floor. “And Cora has the most gorgeous red ha–”

My nerves flare when I see the figure of a loyalist coming up our way. Aanya stops talking immediately and lowers her head in submission. She is also the one that comes to a halt mid step; so abruptly, I almost trip over my feet. I stand next to her, waiting for the man to walk by.

But my head doesn’t go as low as hers does.

And the loyalist notices.

He stops in front of us. In front of me.

I recognize him from the dinner with Rookwood. It’s Burke. I noticed his resentment towards Sebastian that night.

He seems to be in his mid-forties. His hair is black and kept very short, but I can still see the spots around his head where he is balding. 

There are sharp lines around his mouth and his forehead, which confer him a very unfriendly demeanor. A true characteristic, really.

His black and empty eyes promise nothing good.

“The crown jewel finally bestows us with her presence.” He spits at me with venom in his voice but I don’t miss the way his eyes seem to linger around my breasts as he examines my choice of clothing. “Your Master likes keeping you all to himself, doesn’t he?” I don’t answer. I’m not sure Burke is expecting me to, either. His head cocks to the side. “Things would have been quite different for you if you belonged to me. Starting with what you wear.”

I don’t take the bait. Because that is exactly what he is doing. Forcing me to speak out of anger or bitterness to have an excuse to hurt me after. However, my insides turn ablaze in rage. Burke narrows his eyes at me.

Time slows down into a crawl as I wait for him to make the next move. And I’m so focused on the man, that I almost forget who is beside me.

“Sir, if I may…” Aanya whispers towards him in deference, her chin still pressed against her chest. “I was told to bring her to–”

“Nobody is talking to you, you stupid girl.” Burke snarls, shifting his attention towards her. I can feel how she shrinks into herself even more. “Do you need to be reminded of your place again?”

My fists clench at the vicious tone.

Again.

Before I can control the actions of my own body, it moves sideways, almost in front of Aanya. The gesture, although small, doesn’t go unnoticed by Burke, who scowls in my direction. I can see his hand raising.

He is going to hit me, of course.

I haven’t expected any less.  

Just as he is about to come down on my face, something stops him. The faint sound of boots at the bottom of the stairs makes both Burke and I look there.

Not something but someone. 

I have seen those robes every night now but it's the first time in days that he wears a full uniform. Sebastian Sallow stares at us through the mask, darkness gathering behind it. He doesn’t say anything, remaining unnervingly still.

Like a predator that’s about to pounce and nobody knows when. 

I can feel the waves of fear radiating from Burke as if they were my own. The man wants to be angry. His face wants to be angry. At this boy that seems to be getting everything he wants; but he cannot manage to make that rage overpower his unease. 

And then, breaking the stillness, Sebastian’s gloved hand lifts slowly in a fist. Except two of his fingers, the middle and the index, making a narrow V towards Burke.

Two fingers up.

Two mistakes.

Two strikes.

The man seems to realize this as well. Before I can catch a glimpse of his expression, Burke has already resumed his way up the stairs. He stomps harshly on the marble as he disappears out of sight, but I can still hear the echo of the angry steps for several more seconds.

It’s not until the tension dissipates that I notice how tightly Aanya and I are holding hands. Her nails have sunk into the back of my palm like a terrified child.

She is still staring at the ground and I squeeze her skin with reassurance. “He left.” 

My whisper appears to pull her out of the trance she is in, her chin rising until we lock eyes for a second. There is some fear there but also relief. Relief because Burke is gone. Relief because she isn’t alone to face him. The loyalist said ‘again’, which forces me to consider the fact that he might have punished Aanya before. My gaze slips down the staircase towards the stationary figure that is waiting for us to walk the rest of the way.

With the same two fingers he used to threaten Burke, Sebastian motions at us to approach. I swallow my nerves down, reinforcing my walls before I comply. Gently, I pull Aanya with me. She doesn’t seem as scared of Sebastian as she is from Burke, but her face stays down on the staircase. 

I don’t look away, watching Sebastian grow taller and taller as we get closer, until I’m standing on the last step. Even then, he towers over us considerably.

“Head out to the courtyard.” His voice sounds flat and commanding. “She’ll be there shortly.”

The mask is angled at me while he speaks but I know Sebastian is talking to Aanya, who also seems to notice because she clutches my palm momentarily before letting go. With quick steps, she heads towards the open doors, vanishing from my sight. I wait in silence for him to speak first, my mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings that I try to put in order before I start blurting out questions.

His face follows an invisible path down my body before his voice pierces the quiet.

“Wear dresses when you are out of the room.” 

I try not to resent the dry words. This is how we play, after all. My expression, fortunately, remains unflinching. 

“Should I go back and change?” I ask in a low voice, almost scared that someone can hear us. I don’t see anybody around but that doesn’t mean they aren’t listening. 

Sebastian gives me no answer but I can see a certain pondering in the way he continues to examine me. His hand does the unthinkable, moving to the already loose collar of my jumper and giving it a firm tug, the motion exposing a little more of my collarbone and shoulder that I care to show.

But I understand. So I let him.

Although that movement doesn’t fail to bring red to my cheeks. These touches feel the opposite of personal when the person doing them moves so clinically. And yet…

I have to bite my lip to stop a gasp when his fingers find my braid. 

Sebastian pulls on the hair tie and soon after, the leather of his glove is reaching on my scalp. I know he is trying to spread the twisted strands but the strokes still make my back straighten while I take a sharp breath. 

He seems satisfied after a couple of minutes of running leisured fingertips through my hair.

“Any discomfort today?”

His question takes too long to register and even longer for me to know what he is talking about. I hold my hands together in front of me as I try not to fidget. 

“No.” The potion he offered me is strong enough that its effects still carry a day later. I feel a small wave of gratitude, greater than I did this morning, standing there. In front of the man that I belong to. Nothing and nobody is going to hurt you, as long as you are with me. Perhaps not an empty oath after all. “Thank you.” I hurry up to add, relaxing my posture. I find this to be an opening to sate my thirst for knowledge. “I asked Aanya how she dealt with it and… she mentioned…” 

The words become dust in my mouth and my eyes slowly fall, unable to maintain eye contact for this conversation. Sad and angry one more time. Sebastian helps me get there without the need to express it out loud. His tone is wry. 

“It’s better that way.” I feel my palms turning into fists. “Resources can’t be spent on someone unfit to bear children.”

“Unfit?” I repeat. Pushing him for more. I want to hear it. 

“Easy.” Sebastian drawls in a warning before my mouth gets the best of me and I bite the inside of my cheek for not being able to control myself. 

If he is pretending to be on Rookwood’s side, and every day I lean more towards that theory, he can’t show it by openly critiquing what the others do with the girls they bring in here. Perhaps Sebastian is right and taking away their option to bring children to the world is kinder, in a way. These men would never spend galleons or resources to brew contraceptive potions for someone they see as… less than then. And at the other side of the spectrum, if the girls were to carry babies to term, what would happen to them and their newborns? 

What would happen to them during the pregnancy? 

I can feel my skin crawling; the bile climbing up my throat. 

Yes, this is better. Somehow.

A thought crosses my mind and I search for Sebastian’s eyes. The mask is still angled at me, as if he is waiting for me. For me to ask the question that’s been killing me. The question I need the answer to but I don’t want to hear.

“Why haven’t they done the same to me?”

I don’t need to specify. He knows. I know he knows.

And he also knows that I know. I figured it out the second Aanya told me but I didn’t want to believe it.

“Whatever you may be thinking…” Sebastian interrupts the new fear that creeps onto me. “...it’s not an option as of now.” I register a sliver of tension coming from him, from his muscles, when he speaks of this. “If Ancient Magic was hereditary, somehow, we would’ve found magic traces in your family tree. As far as we can tell, you are the only witch in a long lineage of muggles.” 

“Not an option as of now.” That’s the only thing I manage to retain. I feel the Occlumency taking over, my mind drifting away while I stand here, in this cold castle. “But still an option.”

He doesn’t spare my feelings with the rough answer, muttering a short “yes”.

It’s like a rug being pulled from under me, but it hurts a little less when I’m hiding away in my own head. I blink and blink at him. And he waits. Giving me time to assimilate, to process, to grieve, to let it settle. To make peace with it.

I begin to comprehend just why it was suggested, and I have no doubts now that it was Sebastian who did, that it would be unwise to pass me around influential men to gain favors in this war. 

Not when I could be an experimental broodmare, instead. If Ancient Magic is what Rookwood wants to study, who better than me? And if he wants to keep a close tab on the babe, who better than him to father it?

“Who would it be with?” I hear myself ask in a hollow voice. “You or your uncle?”

A pause. His voice is unwavering when he speaks. Almost cold. “You belong to me.” Sebastian’s shadows grow larger around him, wolfing down the vestiges of sunlight that filtrate through the stained glass of the windows. If my magic is light, his is a black cloud full of nightmares. 

He doesn’t need to say it, I understand what he implies with it. If I have to bear a child, it will be his. 

After exhausting himself saying he doesn’t want me, he’ll be the only one allowed to touch me. The irony of it all.

“I guess it could be worse.” I know the mental shields are doing what they are supposed to when I remain pale but otherwise steady at this. 

“It could be.” Sebastian utters smoothly, tauntingly. “I’m gentler than I look.” Outsider’s ears might have taken this for what it sounds like: a crude joke. But I’m learning to decipher the little inflections in his voice; the small changes on his body; the fluctuations of his breathing. So I hear the strain in his tone; notice the rigidity of his shoulders; sense the slightly hard exhale. “Go to the courtyard. You have one hour.” 

“You aren’t coming?” I inquire while he slides his body aside to let me descend the last step to the ground level. 

“I have things to do.” We march towards the open doors. His hand presses on my lower back, protective and possessive. I know it’s on purpose when I catch a glimpse of loyalists walking around on a nearby corridor. They nod their head at Sebastian as they disappear through a different door that I know leads to the Greenhouses. “I came to escort you out.”

As if he knew I would get in trouble, somehow. I’m too distracted to give him an answer. In the back of my head I have all of these feelings simmering, burning me. And then, the fresh air dancing through the open doors of the courtyard. I can smell the grass, the breeze full of sweet notes, the sun.

I can taste freedom, as remote as it is, in the tip of my tongue.

My steps become a little too eager, my eyes widening and my chest ceasing to heave a breath. I’m almost outside.

He stops me, right on the threshold, turning me around to face him before I can properly take in the gardens. Sebastian looks down at me, his head cocking to the side. Inching closer.

“Be smart.” It sounds like advice disguised as a threat. 

The impatience to get out of the castle has almost knocked down my walls. I think there are tears in my eyes; I can’t properly process my emotions. However, I take a step closer to him, getting on the tip of my toes. Sebastian doesn’t help me but he doesn’t stop me, watching me press a kiss on his chin.

I taste the metal without blanching. 

“Yes, Master.” I whisper. And then I rotate on my feet and walk out. 

Chapter Text

Been running too long, tryna catch my breath
There's a war up against my heart and head
And there ain't always blood in a fight
But you bring me back to the light

My steps outside are unrushed. Almost as if I’m walking in slow-motion. 

It’s the middle of the day, so the sun shines down on me with all its might, warming my skin. Burning my eyes.

I lift a hand to cover my face, but the light still squeezes through the gaps between my fingers. I can hear my own breathing and nothing else.

Noises come muffled to me. Nothing exists except this little moment of joy. And the man that gave it to me.

I send a glance over my shoulder, at the figure still shrouded in the darkness of the castle. Right on the threshold. We aren’t that far apart, perhaps a few feets.

But it feels like we both are in a different territory. Exactly where we belong.

It’s barely noticeable but Sebastian nods his head at me, encouraging me to continue. Before I can follow the unspoken order, he has already turned around. The heavy sound of his footsteps grows smaller and smaller. And then he is gone.

The courtyard is as big as I remember it. There is a cool breeze that ruffles my unbound hair, opaque by the sunlight. I was expecting to see flowers in bloom, similar to the roses underneath my window. But it’s clear that nobody really takes care of all of them. Still, this is the most green I have been surrounded with in a long time.

I can see the Quidditch pitch from here, the tattered school banners. I search for mine, but I don’t find it. I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. Nobody cares about houses.

My gaze moves involuntarily towards the end of the trail, beyond the patchy hedges. Towards freedom.

There are loyalists patrolling the grounds, but I wonder if I could make a run for it. I haven’t run in weeks, but I suppose the adrenaline could get my muscles going fast enough.

If I manage to make it out, somehow, I will be either stuck in Hogsmeade or the Forbidden Forest. The former has been heavily secured after a lot of wizards and witches fled when Hogwarts fell.

And the forest is… well. A death sentence.

But if they catch me before I can pick either of those options, they would drag me back inside the castle, in front of Sebastian.

And I can picture the look underneath his mask. He has never hurt me like the men here hurt their prisoners. 

But I presume he has a limit. To keep appearances, he would have to. 

Be smart.

His words come to me again. I’m trying. 

I look away from the trail, discarting that idea immediately and focusing on the flowers. I have barely sunk my fingers into the soil when I hear someone approaching me from behind.

I return to my body like I have just jerked myself awake. I have been Occluding so hard that I have forgotten I’m not alone out here. When I turn around, I come face to face with a girl that must be around my age. Perhaps mid-twenties.

Although, her makeup makes her seem a lot older. 

A long, black hair that falls in waves frames her face. Her skin is flawless; smooth and pristine like a doll. She has ocean blue eyes and a red mouth, a contrast to her fair complexion. She is one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen but it feels like a cold beauty.

As soon as she opens her mouth, her words match exactly how she looks.

“So you are her.” 

Her black dress feels out of place for this setting. Short and tight as a second skin, but she wears it with confidence. Gracefully, the girl leans against one of the many balustrades that decorate the cobblestone path around the courtyard, adopting a casual posture. But her eyes are sharp as knives.

I can hear some soft voices coming from the fountain in the middle of the garden, several feet away from me. There are a few girls over there, including Aanya, who is waving softly towards me to go meet them.

But my attention returns to the girl in front of me, something telling me that she wants to chat privately first. A name rushes to me, from what I can remember of Aanya’s explanations.

“And you are… Victoria?” I ask quietly.

The more I look at her, the more I feel like I have seen her before. A half smile twists her pretty lips and she flips her hair over her shoulder. 

“Someone has done her homework.” Victoria purrs. “I have been here a few times but I haven’t seen you outside. Figured they were keeping you up in your tower.” I stare at her in silence, impassive. Whatever she sees, or doesn’t see, in my face, draws a chuckle out of her. “Well, but look at you. It’s been a few weeks since I last saw you and you almost look as idle as one of those simpering fools over there.” 

She jerks her head towards the fountain without breaking eye contact. The disdain in her voice makes me narrow my eyes. The way she talks, so careless and free… If I have to guess, Victoria is not under any spell or curse.

Her mind is her own. She traces her lower lip distractedly. Her fingernails are painted the same color as her mouth.

I remember her.

I saw her only once but I thought of her as a poor, innocent muggle girl that had been forced, unbeknown to her, to please a pureblood wizard. 

“You were at the dinner with my Master and his friends.” I mutter, more to myself than to her. “You belong to Adrian Pucey.”

Victoria gives me a serpentine smirk. “Good memory.”

“Hasn’t he put any spells on you?” I ask in a tentative voice. Although I’m not sure I trust this woman, I also don’t want to see her writhing in pain. 

But Victoria waves her hand in dismissal, rolling her eyes. “His secrets are not that important.” I snort against my better judgement, receiving a pleased smile from her. “Your Master, however…” Victoria’s tone becomes deceptively soft. Almost uninterested. “I’m sure his secrets are worth much more.”

I give Sebastian his credit internally because thanks to him, I have learned to trust nobody. Especially someone who is so obviously trying to get information out of me. Like a second nature, I check my mental shields. Stupid, really, since she is muggle. But I cannot be too careful.

I let my expression remain blank, tilting my head at the hedges behind Victoria. I stroke over the discolored plant, almost distracted.

“I wouldn’t know.” I say, shrugging. “He doesn’t tell me anything.” I can feel her gaze on the side of my face but I don’t return the stare. A moment of silence stretches around us before I decide to take over the conversation. “So you aren’t under any spells, then.” It’s not a question. Although, she does wear a silver collar like the rest of girls. “You seem happy.”

She tugs her head back and lets out a sardonic laugh. “It seems as if you are judging me for making the best of my situation.”

“I’m not–”

“You are.” Victoria interrupts me. With a slow motion, she pushes herself from the railing, coming to her full height. She is a couple of inches taller than me so I lift my eyes to watch her come closer. She examines me from head to toe a few times. “Maybe your… Master can bring you over to Pucey’s manor one night. Adrian is quite taken with you, you know?” 

My forehead crinkles in disbelief. “Why?”

“Men usually want what they can’t have.” She must see the grimace I make because the corners of her mouth lifts slightly before her face returns to its former state. “Even if what they want seems as ordinary as they come.”

I level her insult with more silence. I have decided, after this conversation, that I do not like Victoria. Taking a page of the Occlumency book, I give her an absent smile while I take a step back.

“It was nice to meet you. If you excuse me…” I march past her. “I’m going to go with the simpering fools.”

She doesn’t say anything but I swear I sense the humor radiating from her as I walk away. Perhaps Sebastian can give me some insight on her. The way she referred to him makes me think that he might know her.

A prickle of dissatisfaction settles in my chest but I push it aside.

There aren’t many girls outside today. I have to question if it is because of me, if their Masters forbade them from leaving the castle while I am outside. Aanya waits for me with two other girls by the fountain. One of them has the brightest red hair I have ever seen, and her face is covered in freckles. She looks young, younger than me, perhaps.

The other girl keeps her brown hair at shoulder length and her eyes don’t leave the ground when I come closer. I swallow.

“Hello.” I say quietly, but Aanya raises her hands, motioning them at me to lower my voice while glancing around the courtyard. The loyalists patrolling the grounds glare at us and I fear they are going to head this way but they continue walking. The brown haired girl leaves out a small cry and hurries up down the cobblestone path towards the castle. “I– I’m so sorry.” I stagger over my words, making sure this time I whisper them. 

“We aren’t really supposed to talk.” Aanya explains so softly, I have to lean in to listen. “And if we do, it can’t be loud.” This makes me scrunch my nose, reminiscing my conversation with Victoria. Aanya seems to realize what I am thinking when I glance back at the place where I was last talking to her. “Victoria is a guest, and she has… more freedom than us.”

There’s a smile on her face while she says it, like she is proud. But her tone is also full of yearning. I play with my fingers, fidgeting on my spot. The brown haired girl had seemed so eager to leave that I have no doubt she gets punished regularly. And this time, she didn’t want to risk it.

I don’t blame her for walking away.

“I’m surprised they even let us come outside.” I mutter.

“It’s mandatory.” It’s the other girl, the one with the freckles, who explains. “We have to walk periodically so we don’t gain weight.” I resist making any facial expression but my eyes still widen mildly. “Other Masters also like when our skin tan, so we get to stay outside longer than others. I didn’t have as many freckles before as I do now.” She forces a smile out. “I’m Cora.”

“Hello, I’m–”

“There are so many birds out today…”

My introduction gets interrupted by Aanya and I shift my attention towards her. There’s a distracted expression on her face; she seems to be staring at something over my shoulders. I follow her gaze back to the castle and take a proper look at the outline of the towers. Once upon a time, this place was my safe space.

I notice right away what Aanya is talking about. All over the turrets, a dozen birds have taken residence and watch over the grounds. Not birds. 

Crows.

I can hear the soft but constant cawing coming from above, piecing together immediately that it is them what I have been hearing outside of my window.

“Maybe they can sense what’s happening inside the castle.” Cora mutters, making me snap my attention towards her. She gives me an apologetic look. “Should we start walking?”

Following her suggestion, she proceeds along the hedges and I immediately fall into step beside her. Aanya takes a place next to me and I find her solemn silence very uncharacteristic, but I don’t mention it. I’m caught up by this new girl and the fact that she seems reasonably aware of things.

“You look…” I keep my voice down while we stroll. I avert my gaze, focusing on the ground. “I mean, I don’t want to sound crass but you–”

“I look well put together?” Cora helps me and I notice how she glances at Aanya. “I have come to realize that spells work differently on everyone.” She sounds sympathetic. “If your intention is to dig into it, I cannot help you. I’m not allowed to talk about certain things, but… I’m still present. Most girls are.”

I don’t push for more. It’s obvious now that whatever haze Aanya may be in, seems to be more the exception than the norm. 

“What do you normally talk about when you are out here?” I ask in a low voice. There are two loyalists standing on the side of the cobblestone path, surveying the grounds. Watching us as we walk by. All three heads lower and Cora doesn’t answer until they are out of earshot.

“The weather, the flowers, the upcoming gala…” Her green eyes twinkle with a sliver of humor and she leans back to speak behind my head at the third girl. “The latter is Aanya’s favorite topic.” 

Aanya suffocates a giggle and reaches out for my arm, locking hers around it. 

“We don’t get to go…” I can read the excitement in her tone, along with the disappointment. “Except you, of course. So it is your duty to have fun, for all of us.” 

My gaze meets briefly with Cora’s. There is a sad smile on her face that she hides very fast. “I’ll have a glass of champagne for you.” I play into this role for Aanya, pretending to be just as happy as she seems. “I might come back a little drunk, even.”

Both of them snort.

“Let’s go this way.” Aanya pulls on my arm, guiding me to the left. “Over here, the flowers look prettier. It’s everyone’s favorite place.” The three of us border a corner and I realize I recognize this spot. I have been looking at it everyday for the past few weeks. With a finger, Aanya points upwards. “That is your window, is it not?”

“It is.” I murmur, examining my prison from the outside. 

The green in the courtyard seems almost yellow compared to the life beneath my tower. Here, the bed of flowers is large and colorful. Vibrant. 

New hues appear in front me, now that I can take a closer look. 

“The pink roses look especially lovely today.” Cora’s comment brings me back. I watch her take a step closer to one of the bushes, stroking the outer petals of one of the flowers. “And the smell…” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I do wonder why they are blooming just here. This particular spot doesn’t get a lot of sunlight.”

“It’d be lovely to have them all over the grounds.” Aanya suggests, imitating Cora and leaning over the roses to inhale. “But at least here you get to see them everyday if you look outside.” The last sentence she says towards me, sending a warm smile over her shoulder.

I’m still too taken aback to reply, so I don’t. Instead, I stretch out my hand and let the flowers brush over my palm as I saunter beside them. For a fraction of a moment, only one, I forget about where I am.

I forget that I’m a prisoner and I have no control over my own body or anything else around me. 

Looking at the roses is all I care about, all I want to do.

There is a soft caw coming from above and I glance up at the crow sitting on a window parapet. It seems to be looking right at me. It almost feels like those black eyes are sharp and witted. 

“They are a little frightening.” Cora says. She stands next to me and we both stare up at the bird. “Everytime I’m out here I feel as if they are watching me, too.”

“I think I read somewhere that crows are the spirits of the witches they burned at the stake.” Cora and I look at the same time at Aanya, who speaks with a very absent tone. Her eyes are also on the crow and she doesn’t break her gaze away from it. I have seen this expression on her before. As if she is going to finally pull free from her spell and wake up to this terrible world that doesn’t belong to her. All the girls here are muggles; although, after living amongst wizards for so long, I imagine they must be very familiar with magic by now.

But the way Aanya says this… It haunts me. Nothing but a frantic assumption: that it sounds like she knows much more than what she originally claimed to me. 

“Where did you read this?” I hear myself asking in a whisper.

Her gaze remains fixated in the crow but there’s a shift. Like she is seeing through it, instead. Like she is remembering. “In a children’s book.” Aanya responds. There is a silence that elongates until it becomes heavy. I can see Cora’s face of perplexity and the way her mouth slightly opens to ask more about it, but Aanya is faster; yet her voice stays soft. Hollow. “That’s why they are here, you know? After all, they do love shiny things.” 

Lines of pondering wrinkle my forehead at this. Before long, Aanya marches a few steps away, admiring the roses. She hums a song I don’t recognize.

Only when she is far enough, I search for Cora’s attention. She is biting on her lower lip; her face is gloomy.

“I meant what I said before.” Her gaze doesn’t tear away from Aanya. “Most girls are very conscious through all of this. We might not be able to mention certain topics but… we know who we are, where we come from. What we lost.” She hesitates and I can feel the pain in her voice. The way that she ages as the sadness exudes from her voice. “But it affects Aanya very differently, I don’t know why. Sometimes she is here, sometimes she isn’t. Makes you question which one is the kinder path.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology burst out of my lips. My hands are twitching with the need to grab Cora’s hand and squeeze it. But I don’t dare touch her without her permission; not after all. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

She glances at me and her green eyes gleam with gratitude. “It’s not your fault.”

“It doesn’t matter. Someone needs to say it to you.” I track Aanya momentarily, just to make sure she is alright, before I take in the red haired girl in front of me. She wears a pale yellow dress with a similar cut to Aanya’s; tied around the neck, leaving the collarbone, shoulders and arms exposed. Her skin is full of freckles. I know she is young and it breaks me to not know how long she has been here, a pretty object amongst death and decay. “You aren’t alone. We haven’t been forgotten.”

That's all I can offer. A sliver of hope that could, perhaps, push her to keep going a little bit more. Until The Order gets to us. Once Sebastian suggested that they were actively trying to rescue me and I’m choosing to have faith in that. 

I’m choosing not to surrender. To continue fighting behind this docile mask. Cora looks at me and for a moment, I see something like incandescent fire burning in her gaze. It’s gone fast and she gives me a single nod.

Neither one says anything else and we fall into step behind Aanya, watching her as she promenades with that smile I know so well. It feels good to talk with someone other than Sebastian. And it feels good not to talk at all, just enjoying the quiet in company. 

We make it back to the fountain, right in the middle of the courtyard, and we retrace our steps several times. The sunlight invigorates me, warms me, gives me a tiny bit of joy. Or maybe that’s just the company I have this morning.

Before long, my sixty minutes are up.

I know because Aanya seeks for my face and points her chin at the castle. 

With a sigh, I lock arms with her, mutter my goodbye to Cora and head back inside my cage.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Out of all the days to let me out, Sebastian picked this one. This one when, more than ever, I needed some sort of comfort.

I consider this to be purely a lucky occurrence but I disregard the idea immediately. There are no coincidences with him and his actions. 

Maybe that is what stops me from becoming moody throughout the afternoon since my pain has decided to return. I go as far as to contemplate thanking him for the reprieve.

I’m a little surprised with my own mental shields and how efficient they have become in a matter of weeks.

So efficient, that not even the probability of becoming pregnant fills me with utter horror. 

Well, it does. But I can tame it enough not to unleash it. The more time I spend in my captor’s company, the more I determine that he doesn’t wish to force himself on me. True that he doesn’t want me, but I also believe that, as twisted and cruel as he may be, Sebastian follows some sort of moral code that would never allow him to coerce women. Just as he said he didn’t torture them, I can’t see him taking the extra step on that ladder of brutality. 

But aside from that, if he is somehow trying to take Rookwood down, he wouldn’t want to burn his bridges with The Order so badly. Maybe that’s just it.

I’m a prime element for the good guys. And perhaps Sebastian is counting on them to win.

If he can prove that he was keeping me safe rather than torturing me like he is expected to do, once the world returns to how it was, he can be pardoned. 

I’m his ticket out of this.

At least, that’s the theory I’m most tempted to believe. The one that I’m most desperate for it to be true. Because deep down, under several layers of denials, I want him to be a good man that was just dealt the wrong cards and he is trying to make it work.

It makes me a little sad, either way. Because, yes, I could be his way out of Azkaban. He could be protecting me until The Order wins.

But it doesn’t mean he feels what I feel – what I have been telling myself not to feel – and these emotions are stifling at times. They crowd me. They haunt me. They hunt me. And they win. 

I shrink on myself, making a grimace of pain when the stabbing pain returns. It’s been hours since I made it into the room. It’s well past dinner, which means Sebastian is already late.

I manage to eat a few bites of the food that magically appears on the table, finding it strange to do it alone.

I hate to admit I have gotten used to his company; just so, that I find myself spreading my own napkin over my lap and staring at it. 

It doesn’t last long because I only remained seated a couple of minutes before I’m done eating. The discomfort subsides and then returns in little waves. Sleeping might be the only thing that keeps it at bay, so I decide on doing just that.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The room feels colder after my scolding bath. No matter that I have wrapped myself in layers. The fire is almost out but I don’t feel inclined to revive it; instead, I get in bed and under the blankets. I do it so fast, I almost miss the small bottle on my nightstand.

My gaze glues to it just as my head tries to piece together what I already know: I know the content. I drank it the night before.

I recognize the grey, almost blue hues of the potion. Has it been sitting there all this time? Or did Sebastian leave it there when I was in the bathroom?

That train of thought makes me look ahead, at the door of his office, almost unconsciously. I have to squint my eyes but I can see the gleam of a light coming from the other side. It’s ajar.

This is so unusual that the cramping ceases for a moment. All while I ponder if I should seek for him now instead of waiting until tomorrow.

He left the door open. He never does that and he did it tonight. Sebastian Sallow is smart enough so I decide to take the gesture as an invitation. I push away the sheets and slide down the bed, taking stealthy steps towards the bottom of the dormitory. 

I can’t see anything through the cracks. My fist pauses for a moment before I connect it with the frame in a soft knock and wait to hear his steps walking to the frame. Instead, I’m received with something different. 

“Come in.”

His voice comes a little distant, deep. But I hear it all the same. I can feel my own pulse quickening because this is new. He is allowing me in. I heave a long breath and then push the door open.

It’s an office, I can finally confirm. Spacious and as full of books as the bedroom, if not more. There is less shelving so the volumes are crammed in every little crevice they can fit in; although it doesn’t seem aleatory. Everything still looks neat.

Potions stations sit in one of the corners and I can see a cauldron bubbling on top of one of them. A mint-like scent floods in the air.

There is a desk on the other side, walnut; robust. Full of books and parchments, quills and ink. And an open window behind it, letting in the cool spring breeze. A barn owl is perched outside, waiting patiently to deliver the small envelope it carries. A fireplace, bigger than the one in the room, occupies the space at the very end of the room, and I see the small bag atop. Almost with a gasp, I realize it’s Floo Powder.

Conflicting emotions clash within me and I’m saved by the small creaking of a door opening fully. I didn’t see him when I walked in because this new range of his dominion distracted me. 

My attention snaps towards a second door inside the office and the figure that appears on the threshold. 

Sebastian stares at me and my heart simply lurches. He does have his own bathroom, I’m certain now. The white smoke after the blistering hot shower swirls into the office from the adjacent room and from his own body. I can still see drops of water pearling his chest and his stomach as he stands there, watching me.

Wearing nothing but loose pants, fit for sleeping, he is bare from the waist up. This is the first time I see him so… naked. I can’t help the fluster that takes over me. Sebastian doesn’t seem timid while he uses one side of the towel that hangs around his neck to rub his wet hair. He is silent, studying me. Waiting for me to say what I came here to say.

With blushed cheeks, I clear my throat.

“I was just– I came to say thank you.” It’s an impossible mission not to stammer so I keep my statements short. “For the walk. And the potion.”

Sebastian’s mouth remains shut. We look at each other for several seconds before he gives me a single nod. It’s hard to tell with this lighting but I think I see letters inked on the left side of his torso, right over his heart. He must realize where my gaze is because he drops the towel back over his chest, covering that spot of his body once more. 

His body is lean and his arms bigger than I imagined whenever I pictured him without clothes, back at the cabin. My thoughts then were mostly fed by the delusion that he liked me back. I never truly expected to see him this unclothed in front of me. 

I never expected to be owned by him, either.

Things can change in the blink of an eye.

“Anything else?” His smooth voice pulls me out of my mind. 

My eyes snap up to his face in time to see him walking towards the open window and retrieving the envelope from the owl. The animal lets out a coo and flies away into the night. Sebastian closes the window after it, opening the letter. He doesn’t look up from it. His tone and his lack of interest make it clear: the conversation is over.

My shoulders deflate slightly. I’m not sure what I was expecting when I walked in here. Perhaps some more insight of what is happening in the castle. Perhaps some untraceable proof, by anyone but me, that he is working against his uncle. Perhaps information about Victoria. 

Perhaps another kindness. Or maybe being let into the courtyard was nice enough.

"No." I retreat, walking the few steps that connect me to the door of the bedroom, ready to march out.

“What did he say to you?” His question halts me and I rotate on my feet to glance back at Sebastian. He is still staring at the letter, splayed in between his fingers. After a few seconds, his chin lifts and he returns my gaze. “Burke.”

“He…” I try to focus on that moment where I met him on the stairs. Today has felt like a dozen days long. “He said that you liked keeping me to yourself.” I pause, letting that sentence soak but his face remains expressionless. “He said that things would’ve been different if I belonged to him, instead.” 

A trick of the light almost makes me believe I see a glint of displeasure crossing on those brown eyes. Too fast. Sebastian looks down at the letter and folds it back into place.

He stays quiet for so long, I don’t think he’ll answer me. Again, I start to walk away.

Again, he stops me.

“Stop giving him reasons to antagonize you.” The tone is stern, commanding. “Otherwise, you’ll force my hand.”

I use the anger that slams into me to practice my Occlumency. And so, as indignant as I am, my voice still remains quiet. Soft. “He was going to hurt Aanya. If you are going to punish me for getting in between Burke and her, then–”

“I didn’t say you’ll force my hand on you.” Sebastian drawls. Slowly, he raises his chin and our eyes meet one more time. There’s something dark and sinister in his face. “If you don’t learn your place and he crosses the line because of it, I’ll kill him.” It’s not a threat. He says it like it’s a fact and it makes me feel queasy. “And it’ll be his blood on your hands.” Sebastian nods his head towards the door. “Get in bed.” 

I don’t remember leaving the office, or how I get to the mattress. My thoughts scramble around the sharp tone and unfiltered determination in his cold face. Nobody touches me but him, and he doesn’t touch me more than it’s required.

More than what’s necessary. The times he does, it’s a game. 

And he is teaching me. He has been teaching me from the beginning. How to speak, how to look, how to play.

I like my things smart.

Again, I cover myself under sheets and wool blankets, staring at the canopy above the mattress. The small dancing flames coming from the hearth cast figures on the ceiling and I watch them, absently. 

I’m so engrossed by it, I almost forget the prickling pain in my lower stomach. I prop myself up with my elbows and reach for the little bottle that still awaits for me on the nightstand, uncorking it and inhaling the same scent from the night before. 

I don’t hesitate to tug my head back and drink it all, feeling the lovely notes of peace and comfort coating my tongue and advancing through me. Like a small wave.

I leave the bottle on the nightstand and flop into my pillow, staring again at the ceiling. I can see the figures more clearly now.

There are people dancing, and animals. A dragon, a rabbit, a snail.

I think I see wings spreading. A crow, like the ones outside of the castle, glides over me. It makes me think of Aanya and Cora. It makes me think of the glorious sixty minutes I spent outside with them.

When I almost forgot my circumstances.

My eyes start to close and I don’t want to fight it, getting on my side and bracing my pillow like I want it to hug me back. I lose consciousness for a moment, or I believe it’s just a moment.

One blink, I’m alone. Another blink, Sebastian is already in bed. 

The heat that comes from him is inviting and I accept it. My body wiggles closer, and closer. Only half of me knows what I’m doing, the stupid half. The half with no regards for the consequences. In my stupor, I groan, falling in and out of sleep.

My head abandons my pillow for a better resting place. His heartbeat is under my ear, slow. Steady.

My arm braces his stomach and I sink on his side, letting this protection envelope me like a mantle. Until I finally drift away.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

When I open back my eyes, what I’m doing finally registers. I sit up in bed in an abrupt motion, peeling myself from Sebastian’s chest.

I know my face is drained of color and shame roots deep in my stomach. The worst, I realize half of a second later, is that I didn’t regain awareness as fast as I thought I did.

It's morning. Faint sunlight is already bleeding through the windows. I slept on his chest the entire night and I remember it so vividly, it felt as if only minutes had passed. 

I blink down at Sebastian. His dark brown hair is ruffled and his eyes are small. And on me. 

One of his arms is under his head; I can see the muscles tensing beneath his shirt. The other one moves to rest on his lap, but a moment ago, that arm was around me. He was clutching me against him unabashedly. And now he is staring at me with a wry smirk.

“Slept well, I take it.” His voice sounds low and hoarse. Of someone that has just woken up. 

I practically hurl my body back to my side of the bed, gripping on the sheets to cover myself. As if I’m not engulfed by layers of my own clothes. As if that can protect me from him, somehow.

“You should’ve–” I stop myself. “I’m sorry.” Pushing the covers aside, Sebastian gets out of the bed with a graceful, yet sluggish movement. He looks attractive in all the wrong ways. With his rumpled clothes and that air of laziness. I have no doubts now that he held me through the night two days ago. It wasn’t a dream. He reaches for a book on his nightstand and walks towards a bookshelf close by. The rug swallows his steps. But I can still hear my heartbeat in my own ears at the way he stays quiet. I’m a little mortified. “I didn’t do it on purpose.” I try to clarify at his back.

Sebastian lingers on his spot for a few moments before turning around to face me. “I know.” He marches towards the backrest of the couch, retrieving a jacket that he must’ve left there the night before and putting it on. “The potion I made it’s both to sleep and to ease pain. It only works if you add an extra ingredient to counter the effects of the Dittany.” He makes a deliberate pause while zipping the jacket up. His expression is almost feline. “An ingredient that makes your body ache for something in particular.” 

My lips disappear into a thin line, sensing where the conversation might be heading to. I fidget on the mattress. “I didn’t… do anything. Right?” I think my hands are shaking. 

He gives me a long glare. “No.”

There is a certain aversion in his tone when he says that word. Like tasting that thought in his mouth is something bitter and filthy, and he is revulsed with the mere idea. It almost makes me flinch but then it occurs to me that what he might loathe is the idea of unconsenting sex. I swallow.

“Is that what you are going to use when–” 

I don’t know if I press further for my sake or for his. After successfully hiding away from the terrible truth since yesterday, this is the moment I decide to look at it in the face. He made it sound distant, yet still a possibility. Sebastian is going to have to get me pregnant at some point. And for that, we are going to have to sleep together. I wonder if this fits in whatever plans he has, whatever orders he takes from someone that isn’t Rookwood, if that is the case here.

The words keep repeating in my mind like a litany. The hope that he is good, deep down. 

His gaze meets with mine and I can practically see the moment he realizes what I’m asking. A cold darkness ripples from him; his expression is suddenly made of pure ice and his top lip almost curls in distaste.

“I do not need to resort to that.” 

I would like to know how he thinks he can muster it without a little help, especially when there’s such a clear power imbalance in between us. If I sleep with him, it would be out of necessity, not willingly. 

There is a comical aspect here, somewhere. I examine the hands in my lap, blinking a few times before I speak again. 

“Is that really what you want? A child with a woman you don’t love?” I think I sense his body going taut, but when I look up, Sebastian’s eyes appear vacant. “A child that will be subjected to testing, in the hopes that it shares something I can’t, myself, begin to explain?” He doesn’t respond; he simply… stares at me. Or more so, through me. His eyes seem a bit darker than normal. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” 

This I ask softer. Quieter. 

“It is me or my uncle.” 

There is nothing in his voice I can latch onto for a sliver of hope. Sebastian is wearing his mask and he wears it very well. Although, this far ahead, I have learned to read his words more than his tone. It was him or Rookwood. And he chose himself. To spare me. 

I also catch the categorical insinuation. It will happen, whether Sebastian wants to or not. He doesn’t get a choice.

Neither one of us is.

Another thing to thank him for. For choosing himself, instead. 

I glance towards him, at his straight posture and the way he just stands there, building up his own walls with ease. I wish I could speak frankly with him; and I wish he did the same. But I haven’t proven to be efficient at keeping up secrets from accomplished Legilimens yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be put to the test. Until then, it is me on this side. And Sebastian on his. 

He saves us from the thick silence that fills the inside of the dormitory by turning around and heading towards his office. He doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t explain what he is going to do, doesn’t bark any orders.

The door closes behind him. And I wonder if he has gone in there to let his emotions out in solitude. 

Chapter Text

 

And I don't wanna leave
But I have to go
You kiss me in your car
And it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before

The rest of the week is both long, but also fast. My routine remains the same, reading all day and watching the bed of flowers below my tower when I long to see more colorful shades. Sebastian allows me an hour in the courtyard every other day and I find myself looking forward to my next time as soon as my sixty minutes are up.

The walls of the school are lugubrious in comparison and I dread returning within them after having a small taste of what freedom can feel like. Occlumency and breathing exercises are, most times, the only things that keep me from falling apart as I march up to my confinement.

Seeing Cora and Aanya does help lift my spirits, too. Even when our conversations are short and hold no real substance. Mostly, they are the ones outside in the courtyard. I see other girls, sometimes. But they avoid getting near me.

As if I’m branded undesirable. Cora is too polite to say to my face that maybe they consider me the root of their problems. I couldn’t blame them if that is the reason. 

Aanya, on the other side, is mostly absent, with a warm smile on her face. 

The days I don’t go out, she visits me in the room and we read. Her favorite book, and I find this amusing, is Hogwarts: A History.

This place is also her prison and she only wishes to know more of it.

“Did you know…” Her voice makes me pause my reading and glance at her over my shoulder. “...that the castle is sentient?”

She is laying on the couch, wearing one of my robes and using my pillow to rest her head. Her black mane tumbles over it in soft waves as she turns page after page in the novel. This afternoon we are silent, our faces deep in a book. I shift over on my side to fully face her, trying to gain a comfortable position on the carpet, near the fire. I, too, wear a robe to protect me from the heavy chill that always seems to lurk within the walls.

The flames coming from the hearth feel delicious at my back, keeping me warm enough. 

“Is it?” I mumble, pensive. “I think I remember Professor Binns talking about it at some point during class.” 

“Who is Professor Binns?” 

Aanya lowers her book to her chest and glances at me over the pages. Perhaps it’s my desire to see her well, but I do believe she has gained some healthy weight. I have been forcing her to eat while she visits me, and at first she seemed reticent but I managed to get food in her. There’s an empty plate on the coffee table next to her, which contained lunch. 

“He was a ghost that taught History of Magic when I studied here.” I explain, resting my head on my hand while tracing the patterns of the carpet with the fingers of the other. “His classes were very boring, everyone fell asleep. But I do remember him saying something like that…”

Aanya laughs, the gesture bringing sharp lines around her mouth and her eyes. Filling her face with joy and life. I like this routine, these talks that we have, these moments we share that breathe vitality into her. I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips.

“A ghost.” She repeats with incredulity. “You are so funny.”

“I have been told that I am, I’ll have you know.” I declare with exaggerated pomposity. It makes her giggle again. “What else does it say? The book.” 

With a swift motion, she lifts the volume, resting it on her collarbone as she moves to the next page. It’s so close to her face that she disappears behind it and I only see that black hair cascading over the white pillow.

“It has some interesting facts. This seems to be the remastered version of it, so I checked the notes to be sure.” She speaks like someone that has done this a thousand times, forcing me to think again what Aanya was before all of this. “There’s no copyright in magical books, did you know that?” 

I blink a few times. “I didn’t”. 

My confession gets drowned by pages turning. Aanya comes up to a sitting position, crossing her legs like a frog while she presses her finger somewhere on the novel.

“Which is so interesting. Maybe it is because there’s magic in books, and magic wouldn’t allow that to happen. But anyway.” She waves her hand in dismissal. “This fact here says that there are one hundred and forty two stairs that can change position.” 

“And none of them do.” I mutter in response, but she doesn’t seem to be listening.

“The three tallest towers are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Astronomy.” She looks around the dormitory, as if searching for something. “Which tower is this?” 

“It used to be the Teacher’s Wing.” My reply is too flat, perhaps because as I speak, memories of the school flood my head. I Occlude, because it’s the only way I could face it. The pain subsides.

“Oh.” Aanya doesn’t notice the change in the atmosphere, and she soon fills it with more facts. “There’s also a secret room, somewhere in the school, that appears and disappears at will. Some say that it contains what you desire the most.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Maybe you should have paid more attention in class.”

I open my mouth at the insult and throw at her the cushion lying next to me. We both chuckle when it lands on her lap. 

“What were your favorite subjects when you studied here?” 

Her expression is soft and merry when she asks. The question makes me reflect back on my years in the castle as a student. Slowly, I let my back press on the carpet and study the high ceilings of the dormitory. I’m fifteen again, running around Hogwarts with my satchel, a pile of books and not a care in the world.

“I liked Potions, I was good at it.” I utter with a quietness that doesn’t suit our secludedness. As if on some deeper level, I want to protect this conversation from a room full of people. “Care of Magical Creatures, too.”

“What sort of creatures did you have?”

“Whatever you can think of. Diricawls, nifflers, fwoopers, bowtruckles… Unicorns.”

“Unicorns!” Aanya repeats after me and I can see her through my peripheral moving forward on the couch, fascinated with my story. 

“You would've loved them.” I declare while tilting my head slightly in her direction, my mouth curving upwards. “They prefer women over men, so only the girls were able to feed them and brush them. Stroke them, even. Their mane is very soft.” I pause and Aanya lets me gather my thoughts in silence for several seconds. “But I liked Herbology the most. Getting to cultivate. Watching seeds grow into something bigger and wonderful.”

“There’s a little sadness in your eyes.” 

She whispers, pointing out my melancholy. I force out a smile. I don’t want these memories to hinder the moments I spend with her. They are by far the only joy I get. I wish I could delve inside her mind, if only to get to know the little details that make Aanya who she is. But even if I have that ability, I don’t think I could muster the courage to look within, if only for the fear of seeing her struggling with her own head. While I watch, unable to help her.

Just like now. 

“I haven’t had my chocolate pudding today.” I respond to her observation and she chuckles. 

“What about your abdominal pain?” 

Aanya flops back on the couch, her body swallowed by the cushions and the robe. Every day she makes sure I’m not in any discomfort because of my cycle. It stopped as abruptly as it came, however. Perhaps because of my stress levels being too high, or maybe because of the potions Sebastian has prepared for me. Potions I stopped drinking the moment he made me aware of what was in them. I can feel my own cheeks redden at the thought, clearing my throat.

“Gone, too. Don’t worry.”

Aanya seems satisfied with my answer. Her expression softens visibly, and then she lets out a long sigh that she tries to camouflage. Hardly.

“I have to go.”

We do this every day. It’s also part of our routine. Saying goodbye. And every day it feels a little dreadful because I never know if she is going to be allowed in here again. I never know if Sebastian is going to have to cut our meetings back for the sake of his appearance. I always wonder how he justifies having Aanya so often with me, taking her away from Harlow. Perhaps because I never see the loyalist, or his uncle. Always away, always on missions I know I wouldn’t be keen on but I’d like to know nonetheless. I’d like to understand more of what they do, who they speak to, and what their strategies are.

The small fire of hope still burns inside me and I have been protecting it with sheer will and Occlumency. Surrender but not really. Play the long game. The patience game.

I push myself up from the floor to give Aanya a hug before I watch her leave the bedroom. I could follow after her. After discovering that I can move freely now out of the room, sometimes I open the door and wave my hand through that invisible barrier.

It isn’t there. Once I even walked outside, only two feet away from the threshold. The corridor was very poorly lit that evening and it felt bigger than before. I just stood there, blinking. Waiting, until the blood stopped roaring in my ears. And then I turned around and headed inside my prison.

The empty plates of food that came into the room disappear at the same time I move around to return everything to its original place. The pillow to the bed; the book Aanya was reading to the shelf; her robe to the closet. The sun is already behind atop the trees of the Forbidden Forest, which means Sebastian will arrive shortly for dinner. We, again, sit in silence to eat. 

It’s a different one to the one he punished me with when I failed to get the key. This one feels the product of his inability to speak to me. Like he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe because what I told him hit the target. I can still see in my mind the dishevel hair and his sleepy, glistening eyes on me. A dark chocolate hue that I don’t see very often. 

Normally his gaze is shrouded in deeper shadows, something I have assumed comes from Occluding. 

Sebastian was fast putting up his walls, but my words were faster. And now we live in the absence of them.

It’s ironic, I realize, the way my feelings for him have shifted so much in less than a year. From having a silly little crush to develop a real connection. From burning love to raging hate. And then understanding, respect, wariness; but ultimately, still a soft spot. Still attached.

Connected to him in ways I can’t understand and I can’t argue. 

I’m back at sitting on the carpet, near the fire, when I hear the steps outside the door. I tilt my head in time to see him walk in, wearing his uniform. The mask angles at me immediately, as if he had known where I was before he marched inside. His figure stands tall on the threshold, swallowing the light coming from the candelabras in the hallway. 

Dutiful, I come up to my feet. I don’t really expect him to talk, so I make my way to the other side of the chamber, where the table is. His flat voice stops me mid step.

“We will be going downstairs tonight.” I swirl on my feet to face him again, at a loss for words. “Put something nice on.” 

A dreadful feeling washes over me. I didn’t miss this. After not having done it for a while, I’ve got used to dining alone with Sebastian. To wear whatever I want without being concerned with predatory glares or comments made to jab at my pride. 

Unintentionally, I grab my hands and wring my fingers one by one for several seconds before I realize what I’m doing and stop.

I swallow.

“Is your uncle going to be there?” 

I call on my shields and beckon the most detached voice I’m able. Behind these walls, nothing can touch me. Nothing can scare me. I can almost see myself from an outsider’s perspective, looking at Sebastian with vacant eyes. And Sebastian staring back, still as a stone. 

“Yes.” The response is short. Dry. Muffled by the metal. Much to my dismay, I still feel the impact that word has on me, like a slap to the face. I blink several times when I realize I have been motionless for too long, and then I head towards the closet. I look through the wool and the cashmere for the satin nightgowns I haven’t worn in weeks, dreading every piece of clothing my hands come in contact with. “Nothing like that.” 

One more time, Sebastian forces me into a halt. It’s not his tone but his proximity that makes me jump. When I turn around, he is standing one foot away from me, his impressive height at odds with the furtiveness of his movements. 

I catch a hint of his cologne, the scent rich with notes of pine, leather and winter itself. 

“Then what?” 

I hear myself mutter while I stare at him through my eyelashes. His answer is none other than to stretch his arm towards me, and for a moment I believe he is going to stroke my face. My hair. 

My body goes taut in anticipation, but Sebastian’s touch evades me, his gloved hand burying inside the closet behind me. I can sense how he pulls something out, the fabric a deep green. 

“This.”

I grab the dress he offers me, admiring the cut. It’s soft, almost like a blend of cotton, the material is stretchy and comfortable. It has a V neck that doesn’t seem very plunging, with a draped waist. This is something fit for a formal dinner, which is why I haven’t worn it before. If Sebastian is giving me this, something tells me tonight may be a little different than my previous experiences. 

The inside of my cheek prickles after I bite it. 

“Is there anything I should be ready for?”

“We have company tonight. Look your best.” 

It’s all he answers with, but it’s more than enough for me. I sink my fingers on the green fabric and nod once, pondering over his statement. Moving sideways towards the bathroom, the warmth that has been pouring from him becomes less and less. I close the door behind me and let out a sigh.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The dress is knee-length with a tulip hem. Flattering in a sense, but conventional. Nothing like the negligees and nightgowns I have worn before.

Whatever company we have tonight, they must be important enough that Rookwood doesn’t want to make an indecent display out of me. 

I stand in front of the large wall mirror, contemplating my face. My skin has gained some color after spending time under the sun, but the light in the bathroom still makes me look quite pale. 

My hair remains loose, and I manage to get rid of the frizziness with the appropriate ointments. After a few seconds of consideration, I decide to apply a slight bit of makeup to conceal any tiredness away. But I refuse to do anything else.

This is the only way I can rebel without openly showing opposition. I continue to stare at my reflection, watching myself until the color of my eyes opaques behind the Occlumency. Until that part of me that rejects giving up is hidden away, tucked beneath layers and layers of lies.

When I leave the bathroom, Sebastian is already waiting for me. I find him at my spot by the window, staring out with the hands buried in the pocket of his pants. He seems to be contemplating the bed of flowers beneath, by the way his head appears to be angled. Those questions that I have been wondering for days drill again in the back of my mind: why that spot only?

Has he noticed it? Does he care?

Gracefully, Sebastian turns towards me without losing the casual pose, offering me a better view of his attire. He changed clothes in my absence, switching to black dressing pants and a matching long sleeve shirt. 

The first two buttons are undone and he isn’t wearing a tie, but he still possesses an air of elegance. 

I hate how devastatingly beautiful he is.

While I’m busy watching him, I can see how his gaze trails up and down my body. His face betrays nothing, although I swear his chocolate brown eyes gleam under the flames of the hearth. Perhaps he is going to comment on the fact that I chose not to look my best. 

He doesn’t.

Instead, he gives a short nod at something behind me. 

“Put those on.”

I follow his stare back at the closet. Sitting outside of it, on the floor, there is a pair of black high heels. I haven’t worn anything like that in a long time, but I follow his command and sit on the bed, putting them on without a word. They are brand new and my size, perhaps bought for this occasion specifically. 

I realize my hands are shaking while I connect the straps around the ankles; the uneasiness of not knowing what to expect creeps inside me, latching to my ribcage and refusing to leave. Once I complete that task, I rise up to my feet, several inches taller this time.

With slow steps, I stride towards Sebastian, who still towers over me. I’m expecting to see the chain again, that one that attaches to my golden collar. Instead, he removes one of his hands from his pockets and gestures towards the door. 

“After you.” His tone is deceptively soft. 

“Aren’t you going to use…” I start, but don’t finish. My half made statement lingers in the air.

Sebastian lowers his chin. “Good girls don’t need to be leash-walked. And you are a good girl.” A pause done on purpose. His eyes bore on me. Shadows make the angles of his expression sharper. “Are you not?” He asks at the same time he takes the first step in my direction. That movement prompts me to respond with a positive motion of my head but he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Speak up.”

“I am a good girl.” I whisper back, fearing that if I say too loudly, my voice will fail me.

Sebastian only stops walking when he is at a foot distance. I have seen this behavior before, but now that I believe him to be playing Rookwood’s side, I’m forced to look deeper in what could very well be a pattern.

His actions tend to be more curt and his tone clipped whenever we have to leave the room together. Granted, it hasn’t happened many times, but I have my suspicions about him acting this way in an attempt to prepare me for what’s to come. Trying to instigate fear because feeling it is safer than pretending. Reminding me where my place is, to keep appearances as best as we are able.

He looks right into my docile expression, and then I see his gaze dripping down my body just for a moment, studying me like he loves to do. He hasn’t commented on my lack of makeup yet; I don’t think he is going to, either. His head remains tilted but those piercing eyes come back to mine.

“Do you remember…” Sebastian utters like a secret, his hot breath traveling down until I can feel it bouncing off my cheek. “...what I told you the night you came knocking on my door?”

Not even the Occlumency can help me disguise the heat that reddens my face. I know he must be referring to the first time I went to his office to get answers out of him, back when my plan included seducing him. Only a few weeks have passed by but it feels like a lifetime.

I give myself a mental slap for how stupid I was that night, making my intentions so blatant. When I don’t respond right away, Sebastian raises his eyebrows.

I swallow the lump in my throat before I manage an answer. “You told me a lot of things that night.” 

“Name them.” He orders briskly. 

“You said… That I was lucky I came to be yours.” I hesitate before I speak again, feeling the atmosphere becoming denser. “You said that you liked your things smart.”

“What else?” 

I think very hard about that night but it turns into an impossible task when Sebastian continues to invade my space. His face angles down towards me and his fingertips are almost stroking my thighs. He isn’t breaking eye contact.

“You said that you didn’t want me.” His gaze darkens at that, like I have just thrown salt into an open wound. But I don’t dwell on it when something else darts to my mind. “You said I had to pretend I welcome your touch, so they wouldn’t question why you haven’t slept with me yet.” 

I’m sure the word Sebastian used was fucked but I can’t bring myself to say it. 

This. This is where he wanted to get at, I realize. 

“And can you pretend?” He drawls and I can’t help but to watch the way his mouth moves so seductively when he asks that.

“Can you?” 

I remain deferential, submissive. Just how he wants me, and although my question can be interpreted as a challenge, my tone is still quiet. A gleam of something predatory twists Sebastian's expression. And then his knuckles stroke my thigh, right over the dress. It feels like an electric wave that shocks every cell in my body. My muscles go taut in response and my breath hitches.

He gives me a cold smirk that almost says ‘I told you so’. “Come a little closer. Let’s see if I can.” 

It’s like someone has punched me in the stomach and knocked all of my oxygen out. But I still take a tentative step towards him, his warmth enveloping me. Sheathing me with its intoxicating tendrils. His scent invades my nostrils and at this distance, I can see the mild specks of green in the pool of rich brown.

I watch how his attention slides down to my mouth, which he stares at for an ungodly amount of time before returning to my eyes. His pupils are blown and I realize that we have been here before, and he has shown just me how good he is at this. So good, that there’s nothing I want more than to consider it to be true. 

I blink slowly, both perplexed at the gush of burning emotions that flow through me and how little I fight them off. Sebastian closes in like a predator, his mouth brushing against mine, tickling me. Pulling me like a gravitational field right into his claws. 

One hand slithers around my waist, tugging me until my breasts squeeze against his torso. The other hand dips in my hair, behind my neck. He coaxes my head back until swallowing becomes uncomfortable; my throat remains arched and on display for the endeavors of his lips after he dips his face on the side.

I feel the path that his nose makes, from the shell of my ear to the base of my neck. He inhales deeply and at this distance I can hear the deep rumble forming in his chest. When he presses a kiss on my pulse, I let out a soft gasp, my fingernails digging on his shirt.

“How am I doing so far?” Sebastian purrs huskily and I melt in response. But this is just a game, I remind myself. This is not real. 

We are playing a game.

“So well, I almost believe you.” 

I reply, more to myself than him, but then his teeth sink on my skin. Softly, although it takes me by surprise, and a yelp abandons my mouth. I bite my lower lip while my eyes flutter close for a moment, until I notice how his face slithers upwards again, and his nose brushes the side of my cheek. 

“Almost?” He repeats in a taunt. “Maybe I ought to do a better job.”

I have wanted this for so long. To be here, held in his arms. Looked by him with wanton need, just like he is staring at me right now. My insides liquify in his presence with so little… 

It’s hard to make peace with such feelings, especially after being in his captivity for so long. It helps that I start to see him as an ally. 

Jailer and protector. 

And a prisoner, in a sense. Just as me.

It was me or my uncle.

His words pierce through that thick layer of fog around my mind, making a breakthrough. He has been mostly absent ever since we had that exchange, leaving me with a lot of time to ponder about it. About what he has to do, what we have to do, in order to continue to survive this. Amidst the intense staring and breath mingling and lips touching, I decide that I need to tell him the thoughts I’ve been carrying with me.

I can near taste him in my tongue. Sebastian holds me like he doesn’t want to let go. A beautiful liar.

“Whenever it happens…” I whisper, his parted mouth swallowing my words. I feel the way the muscles in his arms ripple around me. Tighter, the grip gets tighter. “I won’t hate you for it.”

I see the moment those words land on him like a physical blow. Something shatters in him, right in between us; he builds it back up with efficiency. If I hadn’t been reading into every little expression on his face, I might have missed it. Sebastian looks at me, his body becoming unnervingly still, and then he slowly retreats from my lips. We have been so close, so many times… I have longed for that kiss for ages.

His walls are whole again, so impregnable that I might think of his mind as a fortress made of solid stone. He appears to be once more who he is supposed to be, with that cold gaze and wry smirk. 

“Let’s go.” 

He utters as he releases me from his hold and marches towards the door. The motion is not harsh but still makes me feel unsteady. I blink several times, returning to this reality before I follow him out the door.

The corridors are dark, darker through the side stairs we take to get down. There’s a chilly air that makes the hair on the back of my neck rise, and I have to fight the urge to brace myself and rub my naked arms. 

Everything about me must be perfect. I have to present myself as docile and manipulable, eager to please my Master.

Broken.

I dare to steal a side glance at Sebastian. He walks with confidence, eyes ahead. Our hands move at touching distance and sometimes they do, the skin on skin contact rattling me more than it does him.

And while this simmers in the back of my head, I also cannot stop thinking about what I may find at the end of this path.

Our footsteps echo in the long hallways and I focus on breathing. In and out. In and out, while listening to the click clack of my heels. Suddenly, there are whispers, a soft breeze carrying those voices to my ear as if someone was talking right in it. There are a lot of them. Young and old, women and men, all together.

I slowly come to a halt and turn around, glancing over my shoulder. We are alone.

“What is it?” Sebastian with an arched eyebrow.

He, too, has stopped a few feet away from me and he is looking back at me with a blank expression. 

“I thought I heard–” I shake my head and resume the walk. “It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t insist on an answer, falling into step beside me one more time. But there is a contemplative look carved on him that isn’t amiss. Maybe this castle is playing tricks with me.

Did you know that Hogwarts is sentient?

Perhaps the walls are talking to me. Perhaps I’m going mad. I don’t allow myself to examine it further once we reach the ground floor. But we aren’t going to the Central Hall, like we normally do. Sebastian leads down a different corridor to the Great Hall, instead. The last time I was here, I was brought in straight from the dungeons to him. To be told I would become his, his property. 

The doors to the hall are wide open but guarded by several of Rookwood’s men. Some of the faces I have seen patrolling the courtyards or the corridors the few times I have been outside of the room. Wand in hand, the loyalists stand aside to let their Commander in. A brief nod of respect to him; a glare full of contemptuous lewdness towards me.

I keep my chin low, so I’m unaware if Sebastian has noticed. Or if he cared. I suppose there’s a line that not even he can cross. I’m the Ancient Magic wielder but still a muggle. Still something not worth defending against filthy looks in front of an audience. I can’t really blame him.

“Do not speak unless spoken to.” His words are merely above a whisper, shared for me only. “Smile, nod and keep your eyes on the ground.” With a curt tone, he finally delivers that advice I asked of him. “It’ll be over soon.”

I feel my heartbeat going faster and faster. My mouth is too dry to swallow.

“Yes, Master.”

There is a moment of quiet that stretches in between us but I can almost feel the notes of pride emanating from Sebastian. 

“Good liars always tell the truth.” He adds. Unintentionally, I give his side profile a quick examination. “They just choose which parts to share.”

The Great Hall appears vastly different, even from the last time I stepped foot inside. Floating candles are the only source of light, but there are hundreds of them, levitating just above our heads. The spell casted on the ceiling to display the sky outside must have changed, too. There is an unnatural darkness that ripples through the beams accented by the lack of celestial bodies in it. As if someone had tried to recreate the charm but it never truly worked. The moonlight still manages to bleed through the large windows, pale and weak. 

The hall is mostly bare, and the tables that occupy it are smaller than the ones I remember. Full of beverages and meals, and dressed in refined deep red linens that reach the ground and spread like a curtain. There is a soft melody coming from enchanted instruments, playing in a corner of the hall. I have listened to their songs before, when I was a student.

Their tunes were always lively, carrying through the corridors and filling the castle with music anywhere we went. I spare a fast glance at them now. The violin and the cello have seen better days, and the oboe almost sounds discordant with the rest. 

“There they are.” 

I hear someone say and my eyes snap ahead to make out the figures at the end of the hall. All of them gathered near the table that contains an array of liquor in different bottles and decanters. The first faces I recognize are Sebastian’s friends. 

The Slytherin Quidditch team are mingled with some older men and women; judging by the resemblance, I determine they must be their family immediate family. Higgs, and Harper, and King and of course, Pucey. A crowd made of more of a dozen witches and wizards in elegant clothing I know cost a small fortune. 

All of them faithful to the cause, all of them supporters of what Rookwood is fighting for. I find the dark wizard besides a very round man with a ridiculously long mustache and noticeable balding spot atop his head. The only reason I know this is because he is shorter than me, even without the heels.

He looks a lot like Harper, with small eyes and a big nose; there’s also a disdainful air on his features. His upper lip is slightly curled and his eyebrows have dipped, almost as if there is an unpleasant scent in the room only he can smell. 

But I don’t focus my attention on him for too long as I stride towards the group. My gaze shifts to Victor Rookwood again, who amongst them all, stands a little taller, carrying the same authority I have seen only on his nephew. 

I don’t know how I haven’t seen it before, the likeness between them. It’s mild but it’s there. In the sharp jawline, the pinched mouth, the calculated stare. The dark eyes.

Sebastian’s eyes are chocolate brown, I remind myself.

A heavy weight drops in my stomach once my escort and I stand in front of Rookwood.

“My Lord.” Sebastian greets with a flat tone, nodding his head. 

“Commander.” Rookwood offers back without taking his eyes away from me. He trails me from head to toe and up again, lingering on my face for far too long before his head angles towards his nephew at last. “I thought I said to have her look her best.”

There is not really a reprimand in his voice, only taunt. An insult at my expense that draws chuckles out of every person in the hall. Through the corner of my eye I notice Adrian Pucey, staring with a wolfish grin at me. No traces of Victoria with him. I suppose there is no place for her here. 

A satisfied smile tugs on the corners of Rookwood’s mouth and I try not to blush in shame. Maybe I should have worn more makeup after all. I sense Sebastian shifting closer to my side, and then his arm is on my lower back, his fingers tracing soft circles on my waist. He smirks back at his uncle. 

“A matter of opinions, sir. I think she already does.” I try to not let those words get to my head, especially since his grip becomes tighter. He presses me to his side with a firm movement and I try not to stumble. Blood roars in my ears. “Everything went well on your travels, I suppose?” Sebastian asks and I thank him in my mind for switching the subject to something else.

“We have what we need, but not a lot.” Rookwood utters just for him, waving his hand in dismissal before he swirls on his feet to face the rest of the room. He speaks louder this time. “As promised, the first look at our little Ancient Magic Wielder.” He motions at me and I can feel how every eye turns in my direction, if they weren’t already. “I was prepared to make a display of her at the gala but, seeing as you have provided unparalleled support throughout these years, I wanted to show what your… contributions have achieved.” 

It prickles a little, right in the middle of my chest, the way that these people think of me as less than nothing. I’m nothing here, nothing for them. I have no voice, I have no thoughts, no needs or desires. I just exist in their world as a reminder that they can control and manipulate their way to the top, while the rest of us can barely breathe at the bottom. 

They all raise a glass in salute to their Lord’s words while I succeed in burying these feelings somewhere deep, where I can’t reach. Someone stretches their hand towards me with a drink. King, one of the Slytherin boys.

No, not towards me. Towards Sebastian. He takes it and lifts it, expressionless.

The room toasts, drinking to their Master. Everyone except my own, who keeps the full glass in his free hand, while the other occupies my body with possession. 

While they celebrate their victory, I glance around the hall, to each and every one of their faces. These are old wizarding families; purebloods, as they like to be called. Families with an obscene amount of money, which I have gathered, aided Rookwood’s rebellion.

The dark wizard has come this far with their support, rewarding them with the status quo they have longed for years. 

My attention lingers in an old wizard, almost near the entrance and well away from the little party within. He is wearing a long, grey trench coat and his curly white hair falls over his shoulders. His hands are clasped on his lap, as if patiently waiting for something. He doesn’t seem like a loyalist. 

“So this is the girl.” The round man next to Rookwood speaks into the room. Harper, Sr. He plays with his mustache, curling one of the ends in between his fingers as he examines me. I can see his gaze pausing on my hair, at that silver strand that stands out over the rest. “Well done, my Lord. All of our efforts have finally paid off.” 

A stream of approving muttering breaks off through them; I see some heads nodding. Rookwood grabs his shoulder in a gesture of apparent liking, but I can almost discern the apathy towards the man hidden in his half smile. As if he finds the excessive flattery loathsome.

“Thank you, Acton.” Rookwood says, his gaze sliding again towards me. This time, when he speaks to his audience, he doesn’t stare away. “All of these years we have moved with a purpose. The road has been hard but, together, we have withstood adversity and reached not only the repository…” He makes an intentional pause that sends a chill down my spine. “...but the only one who could ever take its power from us.” He takes a step forward, and another, until he is right in front of me and my heart hammers in my chest. Next to me, Sebastian is motionless, his face impassive. But I think his fingers dig a tad harder on my waist. Maybe I’m imagining it. My thoughts completely scramble around when Rookwood brushes his fingertips along my collar and he admires the invisible leash he has put me on. “Is it too tight, dear? Perhaps we could loosen it up for you.”

He mocks me again, goading me in front of this audience, perhaps to show them my submission. Perhaps to see if he can make me snap, and then punish me for it. Either way, I’m going to lose. My lips remain firmly pressed together and my eyes find somewhere over his shoulder to stare at. The void, while I retreat within my shell.

“It’s fine, sir.” I reply absently. Sebastian’s fingers are the only thing keeping me grounded in this moment. Not letting me go away completely, where it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Rookwood stares at me, his head cocking to the side. His looming presence feels too close now, reinforced by his hand seizing my chin and forcing me to face him directly. Black eyes receive me; dark and cold. 

“My Lord.” His voice is soft when he utters his correction, elongating every letter to get the point across.

I swallow, ignoring the way his abrasive fingers dig on my jaw and hold me in place. Sebastian doesn’t move one inch, but I don’t suppose that he can do much. 

“My Lord.” I repeat mildly, relaxing my expression. Sweetening my eyes. Pretending to be someone else.

Both satisfaction and surprise flash in Rookwood’s eyes and this time, he scans me as if he sees me now in a different light. The corner of his mouth tugs upwards before he glances at Sebastian.

“What a fine job you have done with her, Commander.” The dark wizard praises his nephew while taking a step back, allowing me to finally breathe properly. I catch a faint murmur of approval coming from the rest of the room. “And in a matter of months as well.”

Beside me, Sebastian offers a stony smile while he examines his glass for several seconds before glancing from me to his uncle. His shoulders are slacken and his attitude stays casual.

“The process to domesticate her has been difficult…” He says. “But I love a challenge.”

I try not to wince or show how deeply those words affect me. Rookwood lets out a one low chuckle before making a humming sound and sweeping across the hall with his gaze. 

“George Pucey has requested your presence.” He goes on. “And while you exchange pleasantries, I will escort the lovely lady around the hall.” Rookwood’s eyes return to his nephew intentionally slow, almost giving him time to process the request. That phantom smile is still carved around his mouth, exuding a confident superiority that only comes from someone whose authority cannot be questioned. “Our patrons are dying to meet her.”

Nothing happens for a moment. Sebastian’s hand still remains around my waist. I lift my chin slightly to peek at him, only to find him staring at his uncle. And just when I believe he is about to refuse, he inclines his head in a faint motion, conceding to the wish of his Lord. 

“Of course.” Sebastian’s touch withdraws from me. “She is all yours.”

I wonder if Rookwood also sees what I see; that reluctant obedience in his Commander. Perhaps I hallucinate Sebastian’s unwillingness in an attempt to make peace with the fact that he is leaving me in his uncle’s hands. He walks away, taller than everyone else in the room. Graceful and dominant, still holding his glass while his other hand buries in the pocket of his dressing pants. Down the room, he meets a man with long, black hair that falls on his back. He wears fine clothing, just like everyone else, and he is holding a bone-white cane. No doubt for appearances more than usefulness. There is a sneer that sharpens the lines around his high cheeks and mouth and I can’t help but see Adrian Pucey in those features.

A lot of these young people have turned out to be exactly like their progenitors. It strikes me that Sebastian Sallow may just be the only one that isn’t like that. 

“Shall we?” Victor Rookwood extends his forearm in my direction, a gesture that seems more threatening than chivalrous, but I still take it nonetheless. His height doesn’t rival his nephew’s and yet he possesses a few inches over me. Interlocking our arms, I let him guide me while maintaining eyes on the floor. “Perhaps I have judged too harshly. You do look exquisite after all.”

I can feel it. His gaze dripping on me, but I don’t meet it. The mocking undertone is still there, poking on my self-control to see if he can get me to react, although I do detect a mild interest. An interest I do not want.

“Thank you, my Lord.” I respond flatly.

“I can see why my nephew seems disinclined to part away from you.” Rookwood proceeds. “I hope you don’t bear him any resentment after what he did.” The words are thrown at me casually, too casually. A cat playing with his prey. 

“I do not, my Lord.”

“Are you treated well while under his… control?”

My stomach twists in tight knots. Recalling Sebastian’s words, I try to pick my response very carefully. “Better than I deserve.”

“Your comfort is the most important thing for us.” A cruel smirk appears on Rookwood’s face. “After all, you are the guest of honor.”

“And do you often put collars around your guests' necks?” I utter with softness, but I can’t disguise the slight challenge in my tone.

“I do when they are prepared to make a run for it at any given chance.” He replies with a similar voice, coming to a standstill before he faces me. That nonchalant attitude is gone, and in front of me I find the Victor Rookwood I remember from our last dinner together: callous. “Did you not think my nephew would tell me about your attempts to escape?”

My bottom lip quivers at this new betrayal. A part of me always expected Sebastian to never divulge such things to the dark wizard. No when he is so obviously perfectly capable of handling me himself. Perhaps this is another way to show him he is on his side, but it doesn’t sting less.

Steps save me from the silence and my own thoughts.

“My Lord.” A middle-age man greets, with who I assume is his wife standing next to him. “I would just like to say how wonderful it is to be part of this gathering.”

Their faces look somehow familiar. I believe I have seen them in The Daily Prophet once or twice, once the newspaper stopped reporting the revolts and the war, and started praising Victor Rookwood and his movement. The morality of the events wasn’t in doubt any longer, and so loyalists were able to come out in public, encouraged by the speed at which their Lord was winning over the country. 

My rage almost triumphs the fear. Selwyn, I believe, is their family name. After a long glare, Rookwood moves his attention to them, the winning smile returning to his lips. 

“Ajax, Ilsa. Thank you for joining us.” Without letting go of my arm, he offers his hand to the other man, shaking it. “I trust that you found your trip here comfortable.”

“Now that the Floo network functions under our jurisdiction, we have no complaints.” Ajax responds with a long sigh while he pushes up his nose the black, round frame reading glasses resting on the tip. “Everything at the Ministry is moving up to speed. The prints for tomorrow morning are ready to go.”

I believe he means The Daily Prophet. And it makes sense, of course, that the ones in charge of the biggest media outlet in the country are in this room right now. 

“Good, good.” Rookwood maintains his charming demeanor and relaxed pose as he continues to grab me. “And that cargo I procured for you.” Something shifts in the air, so palpable I can taste it on my tongue. “Is it to your liking?”

The woman flusters, and Ajax coughs several times in obvious discomfort. The nature of that question makes me ponder about what this cargo really is.

“Yes, she is–” The wizard says, raising his chin. As if remembering suddenly that he needs not to be ashamed in front of this audience. Yet, his cheeks are quite red and I notice the brief look he shoots my way before facing Rookwood. “Delightful, my Lord. Undoubtedly, one of your best ideas to move forward.”

I blink several times, going over and over through those few words. 

She.

The cargo they are talking about with such ease is a woman. Very soon I’m able to follow the breadcrumbs they leave out for me, only to determine that Victor Rookwood is giving all of these families muggle girls. I have to resist the urge to bend over and vomit on their nice shoes.

I feel so sick.

“I reward loyalty with comfort.” Rookwood continues. “Let me know if you require something else.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” It’s not Ajax but the woman, Ilsa, who speaks with appreciation. “You are so generous.”

They both bow in deference and I want nothing more than to bury my nails across both their faces and rip the smug expression they have once we start to walk away. I inhale deeply through my nose, exhale through my mouth. Calming myself, reminding myself of what I have to be while surrounded by this lot. Inadvertently, my gaze moves around to search for Sebastian. Multiple people are in between us, but I still find him easily. He isn’t with the Pucey patriarch, but his son and the rest of his Slytherin crew. All of them with glasses in one hand and a cigarette in the other, immersed in a conversation I cannot hear. He is the only one more focused on listening than talking; from time to time, he brings the cigarette to his lips and sucks on it before releasing a cloud of smoke upwards. 

He doesn’t look in my direction once. 

“You seem a little pale, dear.” Rookwood says with traces of fake concern. “Perhaps a drink to lighten the mood?” 

“No, thank you.” I utter under my breath. 

“You don’t indulge?” I shake my head faintly to his question, remembering the last time I luxuriated in a few drinks. His humming right above my ear sends hot breath tickling down the side of my face. “What a pity.” 

My mouth stays closed while Rookwood continues guiding me through the room. He never introduces me to anyone, content with having me hooked to his arm in complete silence. I suppose he doesn’t need to; everyone knows who I am.

Nobody acknowledges me, either. They stare at me; some with curiosity, others with wariness. But everyone does it with scorn plastered around their faces. Their haughty gazes examine that silver strand of hair and the golden collar I wear as uniform. 

It’s easier to retreat inside my walls each time, but a part of me wants to stay back and listen. Gather as much information from these people as I can. Once I get out…

If I get out, I can tell The Order all I know.

Everyone is very careful not to give out lots of details, however; whenever they do, Rookwood simply smiles and disregards it for another time. ‘No work tonight’, he declares as we continue strolling around. Until, after almost an hour of being paraded like a trophy, the small gathering starts to become smaller and smaller. 

The Great Hall eventually harbors only Sebastian, Rookwood and I. There is also that man I saw before, still standing against the wall. Only when the last guest leaves, does he make his way towards us. 

“Thank you for waiting so patiently, Professor.” 

Abandoning the hold he has taken of my arm, Rookwood takes a few steps forward to meet the stranger with his hand outreached, leaving me to stand near one of the tables still hall full of trays with food.

The title he uses for this man makes me blink, paying closer attention now. Is he, perhaps, a professor in a different school? 

I sense the presence before I see the movement, and I turn my head in time to watch Sebastian coming to stand next to me. His face is unreadable, maybe bored; his eyes aloof. In a slow motion, he leans his body against the edge of the table, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankle while he inspects both his uncle and the other wizard. The fabric of his shirt ripples when he folds his arms over his chest.

He is at such short distance, I can feel his warmth slipping in my direction. Close enough to me to make it known who I belonged to. To remind me I am his.

Or maybe to remind the others.

“It is not trouble, my Lord.” The Professor makes an emphasis on his 'r', and I identify his thick accent as Dutch. Maybe German. “I was able to bring with me what you requested.”

He reaches within his jacket, pulling out a vial with what looks like thick, dark mud. It bubbles as if it’s searing hot, making me blink with stupefaction. The moment he uncorks it, I catch the first notes of Knotgrass and Fluxweed. It’s a Polyjuice potion.

My mouth opens but no sound comes out. 

Most ingredients for this particular potion had been prohibited by the Ministry of Magic when the good guys were in charge of it.

Before we lost this war.

I caught snippets of conversations when I was living at the safehouse, and members of The Order spoke of the latest affairs revolving Rookwood and his rebellion. Once they realized we were going to lose, they started making it difficult to collect ingredients for Polyjuice, Amortentia and Veritaserum, amongst others. 

Fields full of key plants were put to the torch rather than let a dark wizard get a hold of them. The draughts are already quite hard to make, some of them requiring months to see completion. That act was the Ministry’s last stand against Rookwood before they fell to them. 

All of it useless; the traffic of ingredients, although difficult, still happens. 

I examine with a slight frown how the Professor approaches me, Polyjuice vial in hand. My stomach churns with anxiety at Rookwood’s delighted expression. He cocks his head towards me, hands clasped behind his back while he stands beside the other man. 

“I’m sure you have wondered about my whereabouts these past days.” He says with a gentleness I know it’s not real. “I was visiting an old friend of mine. A quite difficult task, since it required me to leave both the country and you… behind.” Rookwood shows me a smile full of white teeth that makes me shiver as he motions at the Professor with an open palm. “But alas, it had to be done. The people need to see that there’s nothing to worry about if their Lord is absent.” His face shifts slowly to the side, and his eyes move to the target next to me with a flash of pride. “And things stayed under control because of people loyal to our cause.”

I don’t dare to glance at Sebastian. Not if I know I won’t be able to hide a negative reaction when I see the lack of it on him. So unaffected by those words. Through the corner of my eye I still feel the mild nod he gives towards his uncle and I just feel… dizzy. I know it’s a role, almost sure now. But it doesn’t pain me any less, somehow.

Dissecting Rookwood’s words, I make connections to his absence and the fact that I was able, for the first time, to leave my bedroom. To have Sebastian guarding the castle; the only person his uncle trusts. The dark wizard has to be completely sure of the foothold he has over Hogwarts, and by extension, Great Britain, if he left full command to my jailer. 

“You’ve heard all about the gala by now.” Rookwood continues, not pausing enough for me to answer. “Tonight was something private, for my closest friends. But when this event comes to be, hundreds of people will be there to meet you. The entire nation will know where you’ll be that night. So I had to find a way to keep my little Ancient Magic Wielder safe during the gala. And transportation, of course.”

I hate the way he drawls his words at the same time he fixates his gaze on mine. My thundering heartbeat reaches my ears, and I work on my shields; on hiding away from those dark eyes. Deep inside, I know exactly what Rookwood insinuates, so I’m expecting a bold move from him. What I don’t see coming is Sebastian’s hand. It buries on the back of my neck, hard and gentle, all at the same time, and I feel how his fingers rake through my loose hair. 

It’s not a caress, but the motion makes me gasp. 

I can see one or two strands of hair on his palm after he draws to his full height and offers them to the Professor. His face is stone cold. He never looks at me, but he does return to his previous position beside me. My body is practically shuddering when the wizard carefully drops the strands on the vial. 

A small cloud of smoke comes out of it before the muddy draught adopts a glittery silver hue I have never seen before in a Polyjuice Potion. Rookwood and the Professor watch in awe, perhaps more perplexed than I am. And there are deep lines between Sebastian’s eyebrows, almost as if he is contemplating something that never comes out because two girls make their way inside the hall on that moment, with a loyalist on their rear.

They seem to stall a few feet away from us, but Rookwood beckons them with two fingers. I recognize both of them. One served the wine on my dinner with the loyalists; she was a ball of nerves then and nothing has changed. She is trembling from head to toe now. I remember the other girl from the garden, the one that ran inside the castle when I made it to the group. 

Both of their heads are down. 

“Drink.” Rookwood commands as the Professor extends the vial to the first girl. She stretches a shaky hand but doesn’t bring the vial to her mouth fast enough. Rookwood steps forward, a simmering anger in his tone this time. “ I said… drink.”

I’m both terrified that she’ll drink and terrified that she isn’t. The girl lets out a whimper, and after heaving a breath, she takes a gulp of the potion. The Professor takes the vial from her before it’s completely gone. All eyes are on her small complexion.

“What does it taste like, my dear?” The Professor asks softly. Curiously. 

“S-sweet.” The girl utters, grabbing her belly. The long curtain of black hair falls over her face as she bends over. Like it hurts. “It’s… warm.”

She lets out a yelp before the change happens. 

Chapter Text

You try to push me out
But I just find my way back in
Violet, blue, green, red to keep me out
I win

There's things I wanna say to you
But I'll just let you live
Like if you hold me without hurting me
You'll be the first who ever did

The change is not abrupt; more so, slow and imperceptible. At least at first. I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in the silence of the room, mingled with the pants and groans from the writhing girl standing in front of me.

Her entire body shudders, and I manage to see the grimace of pain that twists her face before she buries it in her hands. She presses so hard, her knuckles turn white. Everyone watches with an intensity that rivals my own; Rookwood’s expression fights to be a mask of detachment but his eyes betray him, wide with astonishment. Sebastian has no match amongst these people.

“It’s— I can’t.” The girl croaks before going utterly still.

I bite down a gasp but my lips still part with shock when I catch the first glimpse of her. Her height remains more so the same, just as mine.

Her hands, fair as mine, lower down from her face and I come to stand in front of a perfect replica of what I see every day in the mirror. 

The same eyes, the same nose, the same mouth. I see the same fear impregnating her features that I have often imagined as my own.

At what I looked like when I didn’t know who to trust.

Everything in her, is mine. All of it, except the silver strand of hair camouflaged in between the others of a darker shade. 

“Remarkable.” Rookwood mutters as he proceeds to circle the girl, who braces herself in an attempt to cover her bare arms. Her dress doesn’t protect her from the merciless cold and the stares. 

“That solves our question.” The Professor also takes a step forward and examines my body —her body— like a medical discovery. “Women with magical blood aren’t necessary for the transformation.” 

He goes on to say more but it doesn’t reach me, stuck on the last sentence while I wring and pull my fingers incessantly. They tried this on a muggle girl half expecting it not to work due to their lack of magic. Consequences could’ve been catastrophic for her and they would’ve seen it as a mishap to overcome. Just a setback.

I blink several times watching that familiar figure and the way Rookwood slides his hand through her hair, using a gentle motion to push it out of her face. 

I dare to steal a glance towards Sebastian. His arms are crossed over his chest and he watches with a calmness that I know it’s feigned. There’s something hidden in his expression, behind the sharp lines of his jawline, and the way his eyebrows draw closer together. He is… paler than usual.

And he isn’t staring at that girl, but his uncle. Sebastian watches him, almost somber, as if Rookwood is speaking something that I cannot hear. Before I can analyze this in any shape or form, the Professor extends the half empty vial to the second girl. She is, perhaps, shuddering harder than the first. She once refused to be outside with me for the fear of attracting unwanted attention.

I can feel the weight falling in my stomach. It didn’t really work much in her favor. I’m still her doom.

I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel a lonely tear sliding down my cheek as I watch her turn, and a second later, she too becomes a carbon copy of my body. Without looking back from them, Rookwood stretches his hand back in my direction, motioning with his fingers in a gesture I can’t ignore. Unable to search for Sebastian’s expression one more time, I take the dark wizard’s hand, callous and hard under my skin, and he pulls me until he can cram me in the middle of the two girls.

Their tremors make me shake too but I work on hiding behind my walls, like a little coward, while remaining on display for the two men. Facing Sebastian now, his expression is all I have in my line of vision.

He remains bone white. He knows something I don’t, and that thought is disturbing.

“Not quite the same, but close enough.” Rookwood utters in a low voice, and I’m only able to hear him because he comes to stand a single foot away from me. Emulating his prior motion, he buries his fingers on the side of my hair and threads through the strands, that silver one specifically, with a glint of something wicked in his eyes. I see the bright color of my own hair through the corner of my eyes and the way he admires it with sheer awe. “How did you come to get this, girl?”

I swallow.

“I d–don’t know.” I remember my manners fast enough that the end of the sentence just sounds like a pause. “My Lord.”

“No matter.” He removes his touch from me but his gaze lingers down beneath my neck, forcing the color of shame into my cheeks. “For what I need from them, a different hair color means very little.”

Them, as in the other two girls I’m currently standing in between. My attention moves slightly to the left, catching quick glimpses of myself in absolute distress. Same happens on the right. 

We wait as Rookwood saunters away with the Professor, in what it appears as a farewell while we stay under Sebastian’s vigilant eye. The dark wizard is giving the other man instructions on something, if I have to guess. Instructions on me; us, I determine as I see him gesturing in our direction. For a moment, I think we three exhale a long breath of something like relief as the wizards walk farther and farther. Sebastian did say the night would be over soon; maybe we are near the end. Everyone is gone, and the Professor already did what he came here to do, I suppose.  

“...perhaps a deeper understanding… if I could work closely with one…”

I manage to register those words before I see the two men coming to a stop halfway to the door. There is more whispering from the Professor, as he seems to bow his head in deference while Rookwood examines him with pondering written all over his face. And then, another motion towards us.

A beckoning motion. 

“Dear.” 

He calls and I choke on my own heart when it jumps inside my chest. I can feel a bead of sweat coming down the side of my forehead before I start to Occlude. My walls have been there for days, but a prickling feeling tells me I need them to be stronger now. Just as I’m about to take the first step, Sebastian’s voice stops me in my tracks.

“Not you.” His black pupils have never looked more lifeless, an oddity with the sharp lines around his face. He glances at the girl on my left and nods his head at her. “You.”

I can barely see her expression, but I can imagine it as she drags her feet down towards Rookwood and his guest. From behind, she looks very small, almost frail. Perhaps it’s the lack of proper lighting that causes the bones on her back to look so prominent. Is that how I look, too? 

The girl comes to stand next to Rookwood, and I see him place his arm around her shoulders. There is a grin on his face when he tilts his head to the side, towards the girl. Words are exchanged between the men. I can’t hear but I don’t have to.

I look away, towards Sebastian, who is still leaning against the edge of the table, in front of me. A growing tension gathers around his muscles, and for all the mental walls I know he has built around him, it almost seems like they are failing tonight. Horrendously. 

His eyes are on the end of the hall, on his uncle and his guest. His nostrils flare and another wave of fury simmers beneath his skin, I can tell. Whatever is happening now, Sebastian didn’t know.

Whatever Rookwood had planned to do, his Commander had no slightest idea about it. The memory slaps me right on the face. Of Sebastian talking about his Animagus form, the abilities that it gives him and how he has developed them further than the average wizard.

Can he hear all the way from here what is being talked about twenty feet away? I watch him while he watches his uncle, taking a mental photograph of the way he appears to be in complete shambles inside at the discussion. It never ceases to amaze me the way that the shadows seem to grow darker around him, as if he has sway over them. But in this sizzling state of rage he is on, the floating candles are losing the fight to cast some light over head. 

I don’t speak but my lips part nonetheless and mouth his name. Soundless, I call for him.

I let my walls down and scream his name inside my head, testing a wild theory. And almost immediately after, my stomach drops when Sebastian turns his head and stares right at me.

He is a natural born Legilimens, I’m almost certain now.

And I think he knows that I know. His expression, however, doesn’t change at this. Not in a way that tells me he is affected by it. We stare at each other for several seconds, and I push my theory by asking another silent question, only to him. 

What is going on?

His expression doesn’t give anything away, a mask of beautiful boredom. The anger has already dissipated, that fury that was exuding from every pore of his body. Behind stays Rookwood’s Commander as I know him: cold. Impassive. 

Perhaps, whatever he saw on my face, reminded him of the stakes, and helped him return to that place of supreme calmness he’s always been good at. 

Just in time for the steps echoing our way. 

Rookwood makes it to our little group, careless to the girl still shivering next to me. Her teeth clatter so bad, I can hear them. But any kind gesture in her direction may just make it worse for both. I do, however, stretch my fingers towards her and graze her hip in what I hope it’s a soothing gesture. She seems to understand and forces herself to even her breathing. 

“What a fantastic night.” 

The dark wizard offers with a smooth tone. I detect an undertone of pride that makes me ill as I track him with my gaze. He stalks towards the table his nephew leans on, standing right next to him. Rookwood uncorks a glass decanter, pouring the dark brown liquid in an empty glass. The silence and the blasé of his movements make the scene feel audaciously flagrant. My attention moves from the man’s back to Sebastian, utterly still right next to him.

I detect a mild jaw clench before he tilts his head and finally speaks. He doesn’t uncross his arms from his chest or lose the nonchalant stance.

“You failed to mention a few things in your letters.” His voice lacks emotion. All that fury is well contained within his walls. “I thought the ingredients for the potion were too scarce to go to waste.”

“They are.” Rookwood replies without looking at Sebastian, taking a long sip of his drink as he swivels on his feet. Now the two of them face the two of us. The dark wizard glances at me over the glass and he doesn’t break eye contact when he finally lowers it down. “Germany has offered assistance in that matter, which brings forward yet another ally to this war. You did offer your… concerns about displaying her.” He says the last word with a wry smile. “But I have found a way around it. Aren’t you proud, nephew?”

Sebastian jerks his head away from his uncle and I can see the way his upper lip practically curls in disapproval. I have never witnessed such a dynamic between them, but I suppose, since it’s only the four of us, there are no pretenses for a public that is innocuous to them. Still, it feels strange to see my captor in open rebellion with his uncle.

That gesture from before, when his touch lingered on me and he seemed to not want to relinquish me to Rookwood, starts to look a lot like a protest now. 

“Don’t you think they won’t know the difference?” Sebastian says so coldly, I can feel my bones chill. 

“The difference?” 

Rookwood marches towards me and the other girl and I see how he scans us both. From head to toe and back up again. Something sparkles in his gaze, something dark. I don’t even notice the moment he removes his wand but it’s in his hand and pointing at us. I go taut, getting ready for what’s next. I hear a few spells I’m not familiar with, and then a flash of purple light. Next to me, the girl screams but everything is so bright I have to close my eyes, using my forearm to protect my face from the possible blindness. I stretch my free arm to my right, where I know she is, but my fingers can't find her. Instead, I feel a yanking sensation that makes me wobble, like someone has connected a rope to my chest and pull from it abruptly. The dizziness doesn't last long. A few seconds later, everything progresses gradually into its previous darkness and I dare to lower my arm.

I stare down at myself quickly but I know that wand wasn’t pointed at me. Rookwood has already pocketed it and he continues to drink from his glass with satisfaction. I glance at the target of his smile and this time, my gasp does make it out.

The girl.

Not only is she still under the effects of the Polyjuice, but this time, she also wears a green dress, just like mine. 

A silver strand falls on the side of her head, standing out amongst a darker hair color. Just like mine. 

This looks like some sort of derivative of an Illusion Charm; a very well done one, I judge, based of the attention to detail he managed within a few seconds.

I don’t need a mirror to tell me we are both sharing a shocked expression. The girl's placement has also changed, somehow. She is standing on my left side, as if the dark wizard did this in an attempt to confuse Sebastian. I realize then that he moved me. 

Rookwood cocks his head to the side to study us before he glances over his shoulder towards his nephew. 

“Where’s the difference now, Commander?” 

It sounds like a dare in the form of a question. A challenge directed exclusively to Sebastian, who doesn’t stir from his position. Not a muscle shifts, nor does his face. Total, utter calmness. A thick silence stretches in the hall, and I can see how his gaze briefly scans the other girl before he is looking right at me. If he can read our minds, there was never a chance for him to guess wrong. 

Rookwood doesn’t seem pleased with how fast Sebastian figures out the ruse, but there’s no time for him to express those feelings in any shape when, next to me, the girl lifts a shaky finger. She is pointing at the big windows at the end of the hall, the ones that oversee the cliff to the Black Lake.

“W–What is that?”

We all follow her finger in time to trail an orb made of dark smoke gliding down from the sky towards the glass. In our direction. It’s so fast, I barely blink and it’s already inside the Great Hall, descending, and descending…

Rookwood and Sebastian already have their wands out. The latter moves just as fast as the orb, positioning his body in front of mine in time for that ball of smoke to come to a halt mid air, floating right in front of us. I lean over his side to get a clearer view of it.

I can feel my heartbeat accelerating when nothing happens. And then a man’s voice comes from within, deep and resounding, filling the room with images of a battle. 

“Members of The Order breached the Ministry of Magic tonight.” The girl takes a step back and I don’t know if she does it out of fear of this possible unknown magic to her or if she is preparing to make a run for it. “Some have been detained.” 

My head begins to spin uncontrollably. The Order attacked the Ministry, which I know lies under Rookwood’s command. Was it a planned strike? Or were some of them just doing something rushed and drastic without thinking of the consequences? The Great Hall starts to fill with loyalists, everyone watching the gruesome fight coming from the dark smoke emanating from the orb. My eyes move frantically around every wizard I see, trying to put names on faces but I don’t recognize any of them. Only one looks vaguely familiar, of a Hufflepuff girl in my year that I used to share Beast class with. She falls to a Killing curse. I see the green flash of light hitting her, her body going limp on the ground. I convince myself that it wasn't her. 

The images stop, and the inky mist disperse, curling up and down in the air until it vanishes. The stillness that it leaves behind is deafening. 

“Commander.” Rookwood says through gritted teeth. I can see the clenching of his jaw when he tilts his head towards Sebastian, an icy expression carved on his features. “Get this under control.”

Without giving an answer to his uncle, Sebastian turns around and closes his finger on my forearm. I manage to steal a quick glance at his stone-like face before thick shadows envelop us like a mantle. I have Apparate with other people before, members of The Order; friends, when I was a student at Hogwarts and we were testing this new ability. This quick method of transport always made me dizzy. After reading about it, I came to learn that scholars believe the after effects have to do with the wizard’s technique. Some are very graceful, most are sloppy, especially if they aren’t trained properly. 

It’s not the case now. 

The dark clouds surrounding me make me feel light but steady. They are cool and fast. And surprisingly gentle considering the circumstances. I blink a couple of times until I start to see the faint light coming from the flames in the hearth.

We are back to our bedroom.

I can hear loud, commanding voices outside, right under my window. In the courtyard.

I can only assume everyone is getting ready to both defend the castle in the event of an attack and head towards the Ministry. Utter shock has latched onto my chest and I can’t do much but stand there, exactly where Sebastian leaves me.

The shadows aren’t surrounding me anymore but they seem to shroud him for a long second. His clothes change in front of me, either summoned from where he keeps them or conjured from nothing. The dark, long robes cover him; his hood is up. The metal mask glistens under the fire as he fixes the leather gloves. 

Sebastian Sallow brought me back to the safety of these walls, but it’s Rookwood’s Commander who is staring back at me. 

“Do not leave this room.” He says in a low growl, almost a warning.

And then he is marching towards the door. The sound of heavy boots fills the dormitory and I can’t understand why but this right here terrifies me. Watching him leave to fight the people that have promised to rescue me. I’m not quite sure if I’m scared for them… or for him. 

“Do not die.” 

I mutter that plea so softly, any other person wouldn’t have heard me. But he does, I know he does. Even if I hadn’t said it out loud. 

With a hand on the doorknob, Sebastian glances back at me, and I wonder if he can read the desperation in my thoughts, or in my face, to see him walk away. I wonder if he remembers this exact conversation. It feels like an eternity ago. Like two different people. Like a different world.

“I’m a lot harder to kill than you give me credit for.” 

Something warm and familiar uncoils in the middle of my chest. Sebastian abandons the bedroom but his words stay behind; a source of comfort and perhaps a little hope. 

He does remember.

I let out a long breath and find a seat on the edge of the mattress, letting my weight flop down. I’m scared I might crumble after tonight. Time passes, slowing down into a crawl, but I remain on that spot. Waiting and waiting.

Here and there, the wood in the fireplace crackles, filling this void. I lose track of time but I know it has been hours when I glance at the window and the night has become darker than before, just how it does before dawn.

Distractedly, I get up and head towards the closet, where I peel off the heels and the dress. I swap the dinner outfit for long cotton pants and a jumper, enveloping myself in a robe after and marching to bed. 

The untouched blankets are cool to the touch, prompting me to let out a shaky breath. So I curl into a ball and stare at the other side of the mattress, hoping to hear any sound outside.

But the castle has been deadly quiet the entire night, and I don’t know if that is good news or bad news. I’m inclined to think the latter. If Sebastian dies…

I groan into my pillow, feeling as if a needle has pierced me straight through the heart. If he dies, what would become of me?

Rookwood would claim me. Perhaps let others have me, too, seeing as tonight I confirmed it was Sebastian the one who disagreed with that. The only one standing in the way of a new level of savagery. Deep down I know that is not the only reason why vomit threatens to rise up my throat. 

My gaze flutters around his nightstand, his pillow, the still neat cover on his side. Not sharing a bed with him feels… strange. In this captivity, I have learned to coexist with his presence at such an extensive level, sometimes I still don’t know what to do with myself when Sebastian doesn’t do what he is supposed to. 

From underneath the blankets, I extend my hand to stroke the empty spot next to me; my treacherous fingers find the unused pillow and I bring it closer, until I catch the mild scent of him. I inhale deeply several times, and I don’t know exactly when I succumb to slumber. I just know that he is with me as I do.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I open my eyes to sunlight, weak and still pale, which means the day has just started and I wasn’t asleep for that long. My brain is still working like it never took a rest and I immediately sit up in bed to look around, but I can’t see any signs of Sebastian’s presence.

He never returned to the bedroom.

Refusing to believe this yet, I push the covers to the side and slide out of bed. The cold of the chambers smack me senseless because I never rekindled the fire the night prior after it went out; but I don’t care. My feet make a straight line towards his office. The door is closed but it doesn’t deter me. 

I knock. No answer.

As expected.

The uncertainty of my future makes me bolder and I twist the doorknob. There’s a soft metal click and a creaking noise as the door opens slowly. I stand on the threshold, mouth agape and muscles rigid as stone. I didn’t think it would work. I didn’t think Sebastian would forget to seal a space so full of dangerous things. Like a fireplace connected to the Floo network. 

A way out for me. 

All but one second is all I take to soak this in before I breathe in deeply and march inside. 

Being in his space without him feels odd. Wrong, even. It doesn’t stop me, however. I scan the room, hunting for signs of his presence, but I know he isn’t there. My next move is the fireplace at the end of the room. It’s unlit, no logs sitting in the hearth and no evidence of use. The bag full of green powder I saw the last time has disappeared and I’m certain it’s well hidden, if not completely gone from the premises.

It doesn’t matter the circumstances, Sebastian Sallow is careful with the details. Which makes the thought of his Occlumency failing the night before even more disquieting. I don’t need anyone to spell it for me anymore: Victor Rookwood is going to use Polyjuice Potions on girls to make them look like me, and then… give them away.

My body would be defiled and marred by dozens of men, perhaps more. And yet, it’s not that what turns my stomach upside down but knowing that it would be another girl.

Girls.

Forced to endure a punishment that cannot be given to me; wearing a strange body that might encourage those animals to inflict further barbarity. Only because it’s my face they see.

The Ancient Magic Wielder they have been chasing for years. 

I don’t let it sting because I cannot let it sting if I want my mind to remain clear; and so I strengthen my walls and pace around the office. Learning what I can of both my enemy and my friend in the hopes of reaching a better understanding of who he truly is.

The bookshelves are bursting with thick volumes and as I examine the titles, I realize they vastly differ from the books in the dormitory. The books I have access to, which includes philosophy, poetry and mild magical knowledge, amongst others. These ones are all psychology and military strategy; some written by muggles and some from the wizarding world but they all have the same in common: war.

I pull one of them at random, studying the pages that have acquired a yellow-ish tone with the years, only to find them full of notes and some of the passages underlined. Sebastian’s elegant handwriting occupies the margins, adding or highlighting his thoughts. 

I put the book back and take another, discovering the exact same thing. It happens in the next three books I grab. There must be close to hundreds of them in here and he must have read them all. 

The potions station is next. There are two cauldrons, both of them empty. They are clean, no residue at the bottom that can give me a clue of what he brewed last, but there is a cabinet above the station that I think might contain vials and ingredients. It doesn’t open, no matter how hard I pull.

I let out a defeated sigh and keep walking. 

The second door leads me to his personal bathroom. I stand on the threshold after turning the light on. It's smaller than mine, but only because he doesn’t have a pool that occupies three quarters of the space like mine does. Instead, his bathing space is separated from the toilet and the sink by a beautiful arch that leads into a walking shower. A coppery tub sits inside against the opposite wall, made of exquisite forest green tiles. The only other thing inside the bathroom that catches my eye is an armoire in the corner that might contain his clothing. 

It suits him. The dark hues and accents; the minimal decoration and the subtle proclivity of efficiency over style, although I find it appealing nonetheless. 

I turn the light off before I walk out and close the door. 

His desk is full of thick, open tomes. Some of them seem very old, almost relics. I lift the cover of one of them, curious to see what his last reading entailed. If it’s true he is studying my magic.

But the title makes me frown. 

It's a book about blood magic. I drop it like it scorches my fingers, taking a couple of steps back. Blood magic is associated with forbidden magic. Dark magic.

Only very strong – and evil – wizards can call upon something that is so unnatural. It’s hard to conceive Sebastian looking into this, but the name of the book is as clear as the day.

“Find anything interesting?” 

His voice is like a cold caress and it makes the hair on the back of my neck rise into pure horror as I turn around to find my captor behind me.

I didn’t hear him enter the bedroom, let alone the office, as if he just materialized into it. Which could be the case since I know he is able to. A power that perhaps only him and Rookwood possess. 

Ignoring my hammering heart, I examine him, looking for vestiges of a battle. But I find none. Not a hair out of place, or dirty robes, or blood anywhere. He hasn’t been stricken with a visible curse so I finally exhale my despair. Because his mask is not on, I’m able to peruse around his stone-like expression. There is a paleness there that lingers. 

“You are alive.” 

The words are barely a murmur but he still cocks his head to the side.  “Sorry to disappoint.” He proceeds to swagger in my direction but doesn’t stop in front of me. Instead, he brushes my shoulder when he strides by, halting at the other side of the desk. He removes the leather gloves and throws them on top with a quick motion. “What are you doing in here?”

His voice is dry. I almost flinch. 

“I came to see if you had returned.” I confess. 

“And did you think you were going to find me in the pages of a book?” 

His mouth curls into a wry smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes, black as coals when he finally glances at me. I understand this attitude change is due to something I don’t know yet. With Sebastian Sallow, there is a reason for everything. But it doesn’t hurt any less.

I swallow away the dryness in my throat before taking a very small, tentative step towards him. The desk is still in between us.

“What happened?” It’s almost disturbing, the silence that follows. The way that he just contemplates me, making me painfully self conscious of the open robe. But Sebastian never looks south my neck, pinning me in place with a single stare. The uncertainty feels like a bucket of cold water, and with horror I discover that I have been more preoccupied wishing for his well being than for the members of The Order that attacked The Ministry of Magic last night. “Did you…”

I begin to ask, aware that I will hate the answer, but he cuts me off. “Most were already dead before I made it there.” My heart shatters for them. And I return to ponder about if I knew them. If they were, after all, students that attended Hogwarts with me. Or my custodians in the safehouse I lived in for many years. Perhaps Elijah himself. I'm going to be sick. “One of them was kept alive for questioning.”

I blink several times, trying to mitigate the fear and the panic from my face and my mind. My Occlumency comes in like a savior, muffling the noise a little. 

“And did you get your answers?” 

“I didn’t.” 

He makes an odd emphasis on himself, which compels me to think that someone else led the interrogation. I bite on my lower lip, immediately thinking of Rookwood. It worries me whatever was extracted from that Order member with brute force and pain. It worries me that they said something they weren’t supposed to and it just sets us all further down the road. 

“Is that person still alive?” I dare to inquire in a low voice.

Sebastian doesn’t shy away from the question, looking straight to my face as he shakes his head in lethally slow, short movements. There is no sign of remorse in his face as he finally adds. “I executed him this morning.”

I go numb behind these walls. I can feel myself drifting away little by little. The agony subsides and I wish I could feel relief but instead I feel… nothing. I have been wondering how Sebastian is going to manage to get me out of this but now I don’t believe I’m meant to. Maybe this is where it all ends. Where everything is lost…

“Rookwood wants to see us tonight. For supper.” Sebastian says, forcing me to return to this moment. While I was absent, he moved around the desk, closer to me. I can see the way his jawline ticks in discomfort. How dark the circles under his eyes are, and it goes beyond skipping a night of sleep. He’s evidently exhausted, and I guess it makes two of us. “Be ready by seven.”

Conversation is over. There are no hints, nothing to prepare me for another evening of his uncle. I retreat a couple of steps before rotating on my feet and marching towards my exit. I hear the click of the doorknob behind me once I make it to the bedroom, knowing what that means. And yet I still stare at the closed door of his office for minutes.

Sebastian told me once that keeping Rookwood happy while I lived under his roof was my main concern.

He told me to hope whatever The Order did, they failed. I said that I wouldn’t.

A few months later and I find myself standing in the same room, trying to decide if my morals have finally been compromised. And if I wish worse on others just so I can have it… better. I close my eyes and work on my breathing. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

A couple of trays with food appear throughout the day on the small table in front of the couch. Breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea and pastries. I eat mechanically, keenly aware that Aanya normally visits me around that time but she doesn’t make it to the room today. 

I peek at the glass only to find the courtyard deserted. A sea of angry grey clouds covers the sky, threatening with spring rain. But not even the lack of sunlight can hide away the bright colors of the bed of flowers below the tower. 

Several books make it to my hands in a poor attempt to pass the time, including those with the pages of Occlumency. I have decided to return all the chapters to different volumes in the shelves, just how I found them, instead of putting them together.

They were split for a reason. 

But not even my mental walls can help my wandering eyes and distracted mind from staring at that office door from time to time. I know Sebastian is in there, although not a sound comes out. He doesn’t leave his private quarters to dignify me with a curt remark and the clock keeps ticking, turning minutes into hours.

He never specified to me what type of dinner this would be. What I should wear. So I scan my wardrobe and opt for something less formal than the night before but still not quite revealing. I decide on a sleeveless terracotta gauze dress that reaches below my knees. The straps are thin, giving a fair view of my naked arms and collarbone; but the neckline is not audacious, and just perhaps the skin I show is more than enough humiliation for them. 

I pair it with sandals and bring the selected ensemble with me inside the bathroom. There are still hours left until seven but the impatience is gnawing at me. I draw a hot bath and wait until the big bathtub is full before taking the steps down into it. The searing water burns my skin, turning it a bright pink hue, but I don’t care.

I stay there, washing myself with the soaps and oils provided for me in methodical movements, like I have been doing for a while, until the water is frigid and my fingers are pruney. 

My thoughts are a bit convoluted and range from last night’s events to meeting Sebastian for the first time. I think about all those months I spent with him and how subtle yet obvious it was that he could read my mind.

Because I have been considering it for so long, perhaps a side of me has grown used to it but now I cannot help but to think of all the times I was pining for him. While he was in the same room.

I think about that while I dress and stand in front of the mirror, taking in the blush on my cheeks. As a natural born Legilimens, Sebastian could’ve also read my intentions when I grabbed that knife. 

When I tried to escape.

When Aanya showed me how to seduce him to make him trust me.

I realize that I was never going to win without being able to properly Occlude myself. That, perhaps, he gave me this in order to have my own secrets. 

Perhaps he gave me this so I can protect myself from him.

Or… someone else.

My hair eventually cooperates and I let it loose on my back, since that’s how they seem to prefer it. That silver strand glistens under the chandelier in the bathroom and I allow myself a moment to stroke it from root to ends. I make it swirl around my index, recreating those feather-like touches that I shared with Sebastian once upon a time. 

Him brushing his fingers on my hair was one of the most intimate things he did to me, back at that cabin. 

I take a deep breath while I stare at my reflection until it becomes distorted. The make up I added is not bold, but after Rookwood’s comments, I consider that a little might just please him. 

When I abandon the bathroom and march inside the dormitory, I’m not surprised to see that the rain has brewed into a storm outside, making the sky pitch black before nightfall, and the wind slams against the windows mercilessly. The clock tells me we still have ten minutes before seven so I take a few steps towards the bed, ready to sit on it and wait while actively dismissing the constant turning in my stomach.

I have a feeling deep in my gut that tonight is just a bad night. 

I can smell the change in the atmosphere like animals can sense an earthquake before it happens. 

Just when I’m about to take a seat, the office’s door creaks open slowly.

“Come.”

His throaty voice reaches me from within the other room, inviting me – ordering me – inside. And so I walk towards the threshold with small steps, feeling the back of my neck burning with a threat of sweat. 

Sebastian is sitting on the chair behind his desk, bracing the surface with one arm. He is wearing his Commander uniform, and I don’t know if he never took it off or if he changed into a cleaner one. I appreciate that his mask seems to be missing but my gratitude is short-lived at the sight of his face.

He looks…

I don’t think I have ever seen him staring at me like that, not even when he spat to my face that he didn’t want me. I recognize that small part of Victor Rookwood that has latched onto him through the years. Hate and disgust shining in his black eyes, which become slits of contempt. His fingers tap on the wood rhythmically every few seconds as he watches me with predatory silence.

It sends a chill down my spine, and I can feel the goosebumps covering the skin of my arms. 

Something is wrong.

I notice two things, even in my fear: there is a lingering smell in the room of lemon, fluxweed and… devil’s snare. My eyes immediately snap at the potions station, only to see one of the cauldrons bubbling, and a goblet sitting next to it. He drank something.

The second thing is the desk. Spotless.

No traces of books, parchments, ink or anything else I had seen on it before. I search for Sebastian’s face again, only to find his gaze dripping down my body. There is no spark in there. No life.

Just an uncharacteristic hunger that strays from any other he has shown me before. This one doesn’t feel good.

“Take off your dress.”

His demand comes with layers and layers of ice, and it takes me a moment to register what he is asking. My heart lurches so violently, a wave of nausea courses through me. In all the months I have been his prisoner, he has never displayed this type of behavior; although I do know now that at some point, he and I…

It was going to happen.

I knew that it would. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. So… anticlimactic. Especially after the way he seemed to loathe the idea and offered himself instead of giving me to his uncle.

Sebastian’s fingers stop tapping on the desk and his head cocks slightly to the side, giving me a feral look. Daring me to remain still any longer.

That is enough to prompt me into action, although I move at a terribly slow speed.

My cheeks feel warm with the humiliation when I grab the straps of the dress and push them off my shoulders. The fabric slips down my body like a caress, bundling around my feet while I stand there, staring at it. Bare to Sebastian except for my undergarments. 

My breasts are naked, however, because in the selection of clothes they procured for me, nobody bothered to include a bra. 

Quickly, I bring my hands up to hide them while I feel the sting behind my eyes. His chair makes a screeching sound against the hardwood floor and then he is on his feet, walking towards me.

I don’t dare to look, ashamed that even a small glance could ruin completely the opinion I have of him. 

It can’t be like this.

This isn’t him, a part of me hopes. But it is him. 

Sebastian towers over me and I know he is taking me in by the way he inches closer and his breath trickles down the side of my face. 

“I didn’t give you permission to cover yourself.” 

He growls with the softest of voices and I’m too stunned to speak so I simply obey, lowering my arms. I start to retreat behind my walls, I can feel it. It’s almost like I can see myself standing on the side, watching the scene unfold as if I’m a spectator. Another step towards me, and his robes brush around my nipples. My gaze fixates on his chest, on the key I know hangs underneath the shirt, until I see his hand darting up. Sebastian forces my chin up and I’m met with dead eyes.

My mouth opens, to either gasp or ask him to stop. But that is the moment he grips my jaw tightly, and yanks me towards him until I collapse fully into his body. His lips are on mine an instant later, so abruptly that I yelp.

He feels cold and harsh, his body rigid. Not like I had imagined he would be when kissing me for the first time. Few occasions, I saw Sebastian Sallow in the corridors and  courtyards of Hogwarts with a girl on his lap. I saw how he grabbed them with confidence and expertise; how he kissed them while he held them. And gods, how I wished that had been me.

On instinct, my hands dart to his shoulders and I try to push him away, but my attempts are nowhere near successful and I only manage to groan softly against him. He takes advantage of it, deepening the kiss and clutching me tightly until his warmth soaks into my naked body. A deep grumble forms in his throat as he buries his hand on my hair; the other one secures me under a strong grip around my waist, almost hoisting me off the floor. And then he is spinning us around, forcing me back until the desk brings us to halt. 

I can taste something sour in Sebastian’s tongue as he prods it inside my mouth, unrelenting for a long second before he decides to let me breathe. He moves down to my neck and I gulp down air like I have been asphyxiating, my senses on overdrive whilst he sinks his lips in every little inch of skin he finds in his path. 

I can hear more than ever the small grunts he leaves near my ear. His fingers dig on me with possession and viciousness, but not in a way that leaves me aching for more. 

It’s so strange how disparagingly different he has decided to handle this, as opposed to what I had expected of him. 

Still, my naïve mind searches for reasons to justify his action. Where is the line, I wonder, as if he hasn’t already crossed it.

“You are wet for me already, aren’t you?” His question makes my eyes burn. “Like you always are.”

He twists my body until I face away from him and then, with a rough maneuver, he pushes me down over the desk briskly; I manage to turn my head in time to keep from breaking my nose, my collar making a clacking noise on the wood. Sebastian’s fingers splay in between my shoulder blades, holding me down on the desk. The surface is cold beneath my bare skin, but nothing compares to the iciness he exudes. 

With short yet slow motions, his hips roll against my back side and I just can’t help myself: I try to jerk his body away from mine, flinging my arms back in hopes of connecting my elbow to any part of him I can find but he grabs them both. His fingers sink on my flesh in a hold of iron, twisting my arms on my back and shoving me down against the desk one more time.

A sharp pain shoots through me so I remain still, my breath ragged after the futile fight I offered. His boot pushes my feet apart. 

I feel Sebastian leaning over, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear and the small, deep chuckle he leaves there as a taunt.

“You want to play this game today?” I feel him then, the proof of his intentions, pressing on my underwear. He is hard, and he isn’t shy rubbing the erection around, building that dangerous arousal more and more. “Let’s play, darling.” 

His voice sounds hollow and the tears sting as they finally fill my eyes completely, spilling down into the wood and leaving a wet mark around my cheek. My absent gaze remains on the window of the office and I try to shield myself from this, focusing on anything except my own body. Maybe I can manage the pain.

Maybe it will be over fast. 

A lot of maybes that make me shed more silent tears while he unzips his pants. 

I hear the ruffle of fabric and I brace myself for his next movement. Sebastian is still keeping my arms pinned behind me, but his free hand comes out of nowhere, gripping my jaw and forcing me to arch until the back of my head rests on his shoulder. More shooting pain radiates from my tight muscles, victims of the unyielding hold he has on me. His nose sinks on my cheek and he breathes in and out, his voice more gravelly than before. 

“Fuck.” His thumb stretches up from my jaw to my mouth and he strokes my parted lips, tracing them over and over in suggestive motions while he continues to rock against me. I feel the length of him, hot and wet, nudging at me over the underwear. “Do you like it when I fuck you like this?”

I blink, letting more tears travel down my face. He means… but we are not. There is still fabric in between us and he isn’t targeting the center of my legs. Yet he continues to sway his hips over and over, increasing the speed and making me gasp whenever my flesh buries on the edge of the desk. Sebastian forces my head to the side, to fully face him. He watches me with a dark desire that would make me shudder if I could move at all.

He hovers on my lips, breathing my air. Twisting my arms until I whimper in pain again. 

“Louder.” He orders in a mixture of a growl and a grunt, as if every stroke was real. As if he was thrusting inside me. My brain is a whirlwind of thoughts as we stare at each other. I’m making my connections too slow because his fingers dig on my arms again, hard enough I know I will have the marks to display. I yelp in a high pitch tone, just how he has asked me to, and that seems to please him. “You like that, don’t you? Dripping all over my cock like a good little whore.”

His words feel like a Bombarda Spell right to my chest and he pushes himself against me in a violent move, lurching my body forward on the table. I cry out from the pain but I know what he is doing. I know what this is.

My eyes remain watery but I stay docile, allowing him to continue without resisting any longer. Shutting myself out from this. From here.

“Going to come all over you.” His mouth presses on mine, agape like he is going to kiss me again but doesn’t, choosing to fixate his black eyes on me as if watching me while he pretends to penetrate me can bring him to completion. “Tell me where.”

Another brutal grip that makes me cry out. I can feel the sticky residue on my lower back, on the hem of my underwear, where he has been rubbing his cock on. I gulp my fear down and play along.

“Anywhere you want.”

Sebastian exhales deeply through his nose and I know that is exactly the answer he was looking for before he releases my arms with a rumble. I feel boneless, wanting nothing more than to massage the soreness away, but he still keeps my jaw under imprisonment. His other hand slithers in between our bodies and I can feel him reaching for himself. 

A jerking motion. And another. His body covers mine like he wants to fusion with me and I pant, half of me trying to catch my breath. The other faking it for the sake of whatever this is while I try not to hate the man I’m most certain I’m in love with. 

I want to cry again for the intimacy that exists in this very moment and I absolutely hate after wanting it for so long. Sebastian growls inside my mouth, and his body stills for a second; something wet hits my lower back.

It’s over. 

He lets go of my chin, practically letting me fall over the desk again. Somehow that gesture, after what he just did, mortifies me. Every one of my muscles feels as if they have just been put out of a fire. Sebastian takes a step back from me and I can hear his zipper and the belt while he fixes himself; meanwhile, I don’t dare to move from the desk, embarrassed of how I must look like and afraid I will plunge to the ground without that support. 

I hear a Scouring Charm that gets rid of his crime, and heavy boots walking away. They come back moments later and he throws something on the desk, near my face. It’s my dress.

“Fix yourself.” His voice feels like walking barefoot on shards of glass. “We are late for dinner.”

Chapter Text

It's where we go
It's where we'll be
I know if I'm on to you, I'm on to you
On to you, you must be on to me

He drags me like I’m weightless through the corridors, and I’m very tired to keep up with his pace so I just let him. 

I mostly stare at the marble floors, focusing on the patterns and colors that move fast beneath my staggering feet. It makes my head fuzzy.

But anything is better than looking at Sebastian. At the hate in his face, the scorn in his eyes, like he can’t stand the sight of me, let alone such close proximity. Yet he grabbed my forearm when we left the bedroom and has not once let go of me as we stride towards this dinner. As if he doesn’t trust me not to run, after all the months I have been here.

After the conversations we had, the clues he has left out for me. 

As if I could run after what just happened.

I think I understand a little better what the Occlumency pages taught me about compartmentalizing and being able to isolate conflicting feelings from each other. I hate what he did but there has to be a reason. I have to trust that Sebastian only does things when there is a purpose behind them, even if I don't know what that purpose is. 

The other option is that I have taken his lack of cruelty for kindness and grown accustomed to it. And maybe these are just his true colors…

No, it cannot be that.

I lift my head and search for his face. Sebastian’s eyes are set ahead, his face a veil of darkness, inscrutable and distant. Maybe it is a trick of the flickering lights coming from the sconces along the walls, but he seems pale. Almost sickly.

An after-effect of the potion he consumed? He hasn’t slept in over a day, perhaps he brewed something to stay awake.

But that doesn’t make sense based on the smell that was coming from the cauldron.

A little too late because of my distracted head, I grasp that we aren’t heading to the Central Hall, where the dark wizard likes hosting his suppers. We are going to the Headmaster’s Tower. 

I suppose it makes sense for Rookwood’s grandiosity. 

As we walk, the Gargoyle corridor fills with more and more loyalists standing guard. A few of them are walking our way from the end of the corridor, where the Headmaster’s Office sits. I recognize some of those faces from my last dinner with Rookwood. These are his most trusted men, and all of them wear their uniform. Harlow is at the front. All I can think about anytime I look at him is Aanya.

Burke is standing on his right, a little shorter. 

All of us come to a stop in the hallway and I stupidly wonder which side is going to show submission by stepping away and letting the other one go first. Sebastian is their Commander, but they have the numbers. 

I lower my head, attempting to hide my face from them, knowing exactly what I look like. My lips are swollen with his kisses, my eyes and nose surely red after the tears I shed. The marks of his fingers have started to bloom on my arms. There is a silence coated with hatred in the corridor and I steal a glance at the loyalists through my lashes to gauge a reaction. 

Only Burke is staring at me, his eyes glinting with something that fills me with unpleasant emotions. 

“Commander.” Harlow greets, his voice etched with a slight taunt. His head bows slightly. “We just met with your uncle. Things at the Ministry are back to normal after the events of last night. The situation was quickly taken care of while you were… occupied with the prisoner.”

I’m new to these dynamics, but I still catch a strange criticism in the words. I can gather from it that they settled things… and Sebastian spent an entire night torturing someone for information. I feel sick.

The hold he keeps on my arm slackens until he lets go of me. I didn’t think I was so heavily relying on his brutal grip, because my legs wobble a little and I have to slightly lean on one of the old suits of armor that guard the hallway. Tension is thick when he takes a step forward towards Harlow, a veiled thread in that movement. 

“The situation was handled because I handled it.” Sebastian’s deep, low voice is honed like a knife and it cuts through the loyalists as such. A couple of them flinch. “The only thing you had to do was repair the Floo network and get rid of the bodies.” To his credit, Harlow doesn’t recoil at the iciness in the Commander’s voice, but he does bare his teeth. Sebastian reciprocates with no visible reaction. He is taller than all of these men, and although that is what makes him deadly, his height doesn’t encourage any bravery. I’m sure he would break through the lines with little to no resistance if the situation called for it. “Was that done?”

The air stills and a dense silence stretches through the corridor. The public humiliation seems effective, bringing a red hue to Harlow’s face. Next to him, I swear I can hear how Burke grumbles, preparing to open his mouth to contest the allegations. He ultimately decides otherwise. I examine his pompous expression, but I also catch the fear. The dread that flickers in these men’s expressions. It’s only the fake safety in numbers that have made them so imprudent.

To forget who stands amongst them and how he got to such position. 

Under the dim lights, I watch Sebastian’s eyes and how they glisten like an animal. Like a beast of prey. If I see it, they see it, too. He blinks once, slowly, and that gleam is gone.

“It was done.” Harlow speaks as if the words have been forced out of him by the Commander himself, his chin lowering finally. “I will have a full report sent to you tonight.”

“See that you do.” With a drawl, Sebastian maintains his gaze on Harlow for several moments before he focuses on Burke. “You are to visit the Selwyn Estate this evening to update them of the situation before the next print goes out.” 

The loyalist shifts on his feet, his jaw going taut while his expression turns into unfiltered rage. But he stands alone now. Every single one of the dark wizards move aside, leaving Burke to face Sebastian on his own. The anger turns into perplexity before he scans the corridor, seeing himself abandoned. And then that shock becomes fear. 

Rookwood’s Commander takes another step forward and that is all it takes to bring Burke into heel. He lowers his head, his upper lip curling into a snarl that never makes it out, and it sort of reminds me of a bar of steel trying to twist on itself. He carries that much resentment. 

“Of course, sire.” 

Sebastian doesn’t lose a beat before extending his hand in my direction and wrapping that leather glove around my forearm, tugging me without compassion. My head spins but it lasts a second as we march down the corridor.

I can feel my own heartbeat pulsating in my ears, in my temples, in the middle of my forehead. The gush of sickening feelings that simmer in the pit of my stomach that my Occlumency can only dampen.

I just need to breathe. If I can breathe, I can protect myself.

I just need to…

My eyes shut close and I focus on that as I let my Master be the guide; but we come to an abrupt halt and then I hear the hinges of a door making a squeaking, grating noise.

I have been in the Headmaster’s Office before; only once, when Black was informed of who I was and why I had to leave Hogwarts before completing my education. I try to scour in my memories of the place anything remotely similar to the room now.

It’s the same chamber. The windows remain as I recall them. The balcony is there, too. But everything else is… different. Long, deep purple drapes cover the pillars of the dais, where the Headmaster’s desk once stood, spilling down the marble steps. I cannot see what’s behind the thick curtains, not even when the fabric ripples with the soft breeze coming from the open doors of the terrace. The Sorting Hat used to be atop the bookshelves, a silent but conscious surveyor. I heard, while I was still with The Order, that the function of picking houses was now obsolete. They didn’t want an old, ragged hat to be in charge of assigning them, seeing as the Slytherin one should be the only one to prevail over the others. An entire school unified with the same colors, the same motivations, learning the same practices. Quite speculative since the stories were born of rumors mostly, but it wouldn't surprise me.

The absence of the Sorting Hat pushes me to believe that. 

The portraits of the old Headmasters have been removed from the wall, I notice. I can see the marks on the stone left by the frames they ripped off. Instead, maps of the country have been hung. I can’t even stare properly for the fear of attracting unwanted attention. 

There are still books around in the room, strange artefacts displayed on shelves, cinders in the fireplace. But everything feels empty and cold.

Yet, being here, in Rookwood’s private quarters, it’s so odd. As if I’m a witness of something I shouldn’t. Sebastian did mention supper, and that knowledge activates again when I see the long table sitting in the middle of the chamber. The linen decorating it is dark, satin, falling all the way to the ground, and the table is full of silver trays with mouth-watering food. Curated meats, cheeses, fruits, amongst other delicacies. We are meant to have dinner in here. That unsettles me. 

There are only two chairs, though. Perhaps I shall sit on Sebastian’s lap one more time. 

Sebastian, who releases my arm at last in a motion that almost screams how unworthy I am of his touch. His expression is aloof as he stares up to the dais without giving me so much as a glance. The drapes move around before a figure comes out from behind them. Victor Rookwood descends the steps like a king coming down from his throne. He wears a black button up shirt tucked in his grey trousers, simple yet elegant. I can’t imagine him being any different even in the privacy of his chambers. 

He doesn’t look at us right away, unconcerned with anything except the cuffs of the long sleeve shirt, which he seems to be fixing as if he has just gotten dressed. 

“Have you told her?” The man questions with a deceptively soft voice that bothers me. This calmness, after the little I do know, worries me terribly. 

Sebastian stands tall, back straight and chin up. “I figured you wanted that pleasure.” He seems bored, indifferent to this, as if he cannot wait to be done with the conversation. “Besides…” His voice adopts a tone of taunt and I feel the way he seems to point his head at me. “We were a little busy at the end. I apologize for the delay.” 

A tugging sensation in the middle of my navel feels like a prediction that I might just throw up. I clasp my hands in front of me to avoid the shuddering and I work on making my respiration even. I work on hiding. My walls are up.

He cannot hurt me. 

I feel Rookwood’s sinister gaze ghosting all over my face, taking in the state of disheveledness I am. I can still feel Sebastian’s essence all over me, in my body, my clothes; not even a cleansing spell can erase him. His scent is well ingrained in my brain. 

With utter shock, I see how the drapes shuffle again and this time I manage to get a small glimpse of the other side: it’s a bed. Big and unmade. This arrogance in particular doesn’t shock me; it doesn't last long. A new figure slides down the opening and my mouth opens in a perfect circle.

It’s me.

Me, wearing a red, nearly see-through nightgown.

Me, coming from Victor Rookwood’s bed and walking down the stairs behind him until I come to stand next to him. Me, with an empty face but resigned eyes. As if I hate this, but I have no other option than to give in.

I look at that ghastly reflection of myself and the implications of her presence here, while Rookwood keeps his eyes on me. A slow, cruel smile spreads on his lips. He has used my body, perhaps for pleasure. But this right here, letting me see it, is meant to diminish my morale. He means to hurt me and humiliate me.

“Shall we?” The dark wizard drawls, as his hand motions at the table. Like a graceful host.

Sebastian moves first, his face revealing nothing. Just yesterday he appeared to be on my side. Watching over me. Silently reassuring me of where he stood. Deep down I know we are pretending, but it doesn’t hurt any less the way he appears so apathetic to the display his uncle is making.

He drops his weight on one of the chairs; Rookwood takes the other. I’m left frozen until the other girl –me– makes her way to her Master and lingers on his side, serving a plate for him with automatic motions. Sebastian braces the table and tilts his head in my direction, arching an eyebrow. 

I swallow my fear and take small steps to his side, also preparing his food. With not a damn clue of what to give him, I make sure to include a little bit of everything I have seen him eat before. 

He doesn’t wait for me, stretching his hand to grab a grape from a small basket before bringing it to his mouth. 

“I sent Burke to the Selwyns.” Sebastian says with a calm voice. “I believe our victory can still make it to the paper for tomorrow.”

“Wonderful.” Rookwood replies softly, taking a hold of his silverware to cut into his steak. The girl pours wine from a glass decanter into his glass without being told a word. She must’ve done this many times. 

Once I lay Sebastian’s plate in front of him, the room fills with clinking sounds of metal on porcelain. I don’t know what to do so I just stand here, next to his seat, watching across the table at the hollowness in the other girl’s gaze. I can feel the sweat dampening the back of my neck, my own hands clammy to the touch. I wipe them discreetly on my dress, glancing towards Rookwood. Only to find him staring back. 

My breath catches in response as I watch him swallow and pat his mouth with a cloth napkin before dropping it on the table. All without breaking eye contact.

Again, I have this odd feeling that he is trying to break through my thoughts. This might just be it.

I have been learning to Occlude, not to keep Sebastian out of my head, but Rookwood. 

Rookwood with his penetrating gaze, which I remind myself, it’s the key to anchor in one’s mind. 

He reclines on his chair, his head cocking to the side, appraising me with calculating eyes. 

“Have you been working with The Order, girl?” The question almost makes me stumble backwards. “My Commander has stated how absolutely useless you have proven to be with magic, which I’m inclined to agree with.” I go utterly red in mortification, feeling the sting of betrayal deep in my chest. However, he isn’t done. “But when one of your members spends the entire night claiming that you were sent in here to destroy us from within, one starts to consider the possibility, remotely as it can be, that they might be right.”

My world stops. And a moment later, it begins to spin so rapidly, I feel lightheaded. My eyes move frantically from Rookwood to Sebastian, searching for an explanation I know won’t come. He continues to cut into his food, unconcerned about the conversation. I’m completely alone in this.

“I don’t…” My mouth is so dry, the words barely make it out. I have to clear my throat before attempting to speak again. And even then, it sounds weak and pathetic. “I never did this expecting to be caught.” 

“Of course not.” He replies with a gentle purr, like a lover. The lines around his face are soft, obviously unbothered by this conversation. A fabricated façade. “But why would he claim otherwise?” I open my mouth to answer but nothing comes out. I do not know. I don’t know why someone fighting Rookwood would claim such a lie. “You are a muggle, are you not?” 

The subject change makes me feel like there is a boulder sliding down my trachea. “Yes.” I mutter.

Rookwood’s hand stretches sideways, bracing the girl’s waist without losing sight of my face. I know it is intentional, to unsettle me. As if I’m not already a ball of nerves. 

“Are you familiar with muggle torture?” My face drains of color, I can feel it. I try to keep breathing. Try not to crumble. “Very imaginative, your lot, when it comes to hurting other people. I have been wanting to practice with someone, and last night, I finally had the opportunity.” 

I think I start to detach myself from this moment before Rookwood finishes speaking. Everything starts to happen in slow motion. I can see his lips moving, saying horrible words. I can see Sebastian having his dinner as if I’m not standing one foot away from him at the verge of breaking down. I see myself across the table, staring back with a gleam of plea. 

“...ripping his nails one by one.” Rookwood continues, and there is that evil smirk on his face again. “And then I peeled the skin off his body until his heart gave out. But he never stopped saying that as long as you were alive, I would never win. That I should kill you, too.” I think I’m going to lose consciousness. I have been prepared to die for a very long time but letting it be here, like this… “Now, if I was an ignorant man, I might have followed that advice and be done with it. For good measure.” He palms around the girl’s lower back and heads south from there. I can’t see from where I stand, but I don’t have to. She doesn’t react, her body limp to the man’s touch. “But I do not consider myself an ignorant man.” He says mildly. Rookwood brings out into view his other arm, bracing the table. He is holding his wand, toying with it in between his fingers for me to spot it. “I see last night as an orchestrated yet desperate attack to hurt my flanks. A suicidal mission, as many others have been, but this one executed with the expectation of bringing you down as well.” Cold sweat beads my temples, my back, the nape of my neck. The realization that, away from the safety of The Order, their best hopes to win this war is for me to die. But that means… “Which can only signify they are aware I have yet to unlock the repository.” Rookwood finishes for me. Our eyes meet again and I see it, clear as a day. “So either they have become so bold out of a mere speculation… or they have someone on the inside.”

“I just… don’t kn–”

“Has someone communicated with you?” He cuts me off.

I can’t fucking breathe.

“No–” His wand raises over the table, pointing in my direction. My eyes widen in horror, in dreadful understanding, while I try to take a step out of the path of his wrath. “No!” I gasp again. 

Too late. 

“Legilimens!” 

The spell hit me right on the chest and the world vanishes from under my feet. My hand connects with something on my way down. The sound of glass breaking reaches my ears and then I hit the floor. Hard. 

The first thing that I can think of is that Rookwood must not be a great Legilimens if he needs to perform the spell out loud and with a wand. The pages of my book offered little inside on reading minds but in the steps of that ladder, the best mind readers only needed eye contact to penetrate someone’s head, positioning themselves atop. 

However, just because he isn’t that good, doesn’t mean it hurts any less. In fact, I think the first thought he steals from me is my insult towards his abilities.

So he makes his invasion of my mind more painful, on purpose. His technique is brutal, like an arrow to my brain, but now it seems as if he is sinking his nail on the walls of my mind and clawing viciously to make it hurt more.

I can hear my own whimpers. My body contorts on the cold floor as I try to resist the onslaught, but the more I fight, the more suffering he inflicts on me. Rookwood tries to stab his way in, poking a hole after a hole.

And I’m screaming now. The pain is simply… throbbing. I can’t think, I can’t hide. Reading the theory in the pages of a book is very different from undergoing such attack. He is breaking me. With skilled, incessant strikes, he charges at me until I feel like I might die in agony. I have enough time to tuck away some thoughts before I open my eyes. And let him in.

His presence is there throughout my childhood, which he skims over quite rapidly. He doesn’t care about any of that. Even my memories of Hogwarts he analyzes fast. I keep away from him any conversations about Ancient Magic that could potentially give him more inside, but they are mostly about the Keepers and the trials. Irrelevant now that I have completed them.

He does linger in my memory of the chambers underneath the school, where the portraits of the Keepers are.

I couldn't shut it in time, and he sees it. I feel him watching it with careful attention, looking for any clues. My eyes come into focus momentarily to see Rookwood standing over my body, with his wand pointed at me. The floor is mercifully cold against my skin, countering the beads of sweat the effort and the pain bestow me with. I’m lying on my back, my right cheek pressed to the ground. Only in that brief moment of awareness I realize there is a pool of tears under my head. Something stings around my ribcage and I catch the sight of blood.

I must’ve landed on the broken glass when I fell. I wonder if it’s enough to bleed out. At the other side of the table, Sebastian remains seated. Eating, drinking. 

He isn’t looking in my direction, unaffected by the scene. From this angle, his knuckles seem bone-white, as if he is gripping his utensils with all his might. His face is absent, his eyes are black. Cold.

There is more pain, and I scream again. Rookwood pulls me back.

He is still in Hogwarts, this time turning the pages of my memory concerning his Commander. Perhaps it’s curiosity to see if I was truly not memorable to him as he once said. Rookwood finds the evidence of it right away. He sees me watching Sebastian like any other girl at school did, and he sees Sebastian paying me very little mind. 

It amuses the dark wizard.

“My, my, nephew.” Rookwood’s voice is full of mockery. It sounds distant, as if he is far, far away. Perhaps in a different room. “You might not remember her from school but she does remember you.”

I don’t know if Sebastian responds. Rookwood drives himself inside my head again like a hot iron, forcing a horrible shriek out of me. 

He is at the safehouse with me. He sees me within those walls for years. He witnesses how little information The Order is allowed to give me and I half expect him to be enraged but instead, he must deem I’m so useless they never entrusted me with anything of importance. 

At some level, he could be right. I see traces of Ancient Magic. I could theoretically wield it. But I have never been any sort of special. Perhaps with a keen talent to grow plants, but incompetent otherwise. Weak. Worthless.

It solidifies his judgement of me. 

He goes on to see me leaving the safehouse. Seeing Sebastian for the first time. This is where I have prepared my shields to come up. 

“You are going to give her a seizure.” There’s no concern in Sebastian’s voice. Only a mild annoyance. “And I would have to brew a potion for it, which means it will be days before she is back to normal.” 

“If you are concerned about playing with your little toy, you can have this one until the Polyjuice wears off.” Rookwood says in dismissal. “It’s going to be just as good.”

He tears through me again and again; I let out a blood curdling scream in response.

We are travelling with Sebastian. He sees the trials. He sees us in the cabin. He sees him saving me. He sees me falling irrevocably in love with him again.

I hear the laugh he barks, both out loud and inside my head. He sees me hoping that his nephew comes knocking on my door in the middle of the night to tell me that he wants me.

He also pays special attention to some exchanging glances I convinced myself meant Sebastian liked me back.

It’s a flicker of nothing, a momentary feeling of distrust that quickly evaporates when he sees the memory of Sebastian revealing himself to me as his Commander. The way his nephew smirks down at me, like a cat that had just caught the mouse. He sees the fury and the betrayal in my eyes. The way I lurch forward, trying to hit him, slap him, hurt him. But loyalists hold me back. There is no doubt in that recollection that he fooled me for six months and a different portrayal was just a lie to make me trust him.

My muscles are on fire; my skin taut and wet. I must be sweating profusely, but my gaze catches something next to me. There is a pool of blood on the floor, coming from underneath my body. I have been writhing all over shards of glass. 

Rookwood doesn’t care. He likes watching me squirm. In fact, he is hoping I start begging him for a sliver of mercy. He is inside my head, but there seems to be an open door between us, because I can feel his emotions to some degree. 

I wish I was strong enough to make the way to his side of the connection, but what’s left of my energy has been sent to build up walls and tuck away dangerous knowledge inside drawers. Rookwood and I are in Sebastian’s room now. 

“I’m not a whore.”

“Not a whore. My whore. Mine.”

He watches the glimmer of the knife when I stupidly tried to kill his Commander. I don’t perceive any surprise. He knows. He knows because Sebastian told him, but now he wants to watch. Somehow the pain helps me blur the sentences I don’t want him to see. It helps me hide better. I hide Aanya and only display the superficial conversations I know he isn’t interested to stay and examine.

How to –poorly– seduce my Master to make him trust me, and fail. Rookwood spends a disgusting amount of time watching me dress in the red negligee. He has already seen what my body looks like, the girl at his side still wears it practically on display. But I think he means to make me feel ashamed; to let me know that he is lurking there and there’s nowhere to hide any private bits. He has full access to me if he wants to, and he does want to. I sense it, too. 

But this desire roots out of something he cannot possess. Which is strange, considering he could just ask Sebastian for me.

“I heard my Master talking about it.” Aanya’s voice comes from my side of the wall. A memory only I can see. “Our Lord offered Sallow anything he wanted. Anything. Gold, properties, women… And he asked for you. Only for you.”

“It is me or my uncle.”

That’s what he meant, and it makes sense now. I belong to Sebastian, fully. Rookwood promised anything and his Commander asked for nothing but me; perhaps there was a binding magical contract of sorts, which explains why Rookwood hasn’t taken me. He is dying to sink his claws into me. Break me, make an example out of me. He just couldn’t refuse what was offered, and Sebastian took advantage of those words.

“Anything.” I think I inadvertently peek over my high walls towards the other side. To that memory that burns at Victor Rookwood like a thousand suns. Sebastian, with his absent face, is also there, in full uniform. “Name it and it’s yours.”

“Her.” His nephew says without hesitation. “Give her to me.” 

Everything is murky and soon darkens, probably when the dark wizard realizes I am looking back. He hurts me, drilling into me until I am a minute away from blacking out. 

“I do not want you.”

I can hide the rest of it but not that one bit. 

“I do not want you.” 

I have to let Rookwood see it. 

“I happen to like when my toys are one of a kind.”

I let him see the disgust in Sebastian’s face. The way his mouth contorts to spit those words out. The way he glances at me like I’m a piece of gum under his shoe. I let Rookwood feel the sting of the embarrassment in my chest, not only because it hurts my ego. But it pains me that I care about it while being his slave. 

I should be thankful.

He grows bored of my conflicting feelings, not staying to ponder over them. Quickly, he studies the multiple dinners I share with Sebastian, and how I serve him. He finds my second attempt to escape. How I pretend to indulge his Commander and how he pretends right back. Rookwood is pleased. 

But then he moves on to see me grabbing the Occlumency book, and he senses my panic. 

He latches brutally to the memory and in my desperation, I let him stumble upon the fake titles those pages are concealed under. 

I think I understand now why the book was broken down and split apart through different novels. It would have been odd to see me read the same one over and over. 

“Does your Master let you touch his books?”

Aanya’s voice floods my head for me and Rookwood to hear. Only my pain overshadows the anxiety to be caught, but I have to try to stir him away. I’m not hiding the books, but more the fact that I’m able to read them without punishment. Aanya’s unwillingness to touch the shelves helps me sell the careful fabricated lie. 

Rookwood makes the connection quite rapidly, understanding what I'm scared of. And he moves on.

He is dangerously close to the present. I’m not surprised that he coasts through most of my interactions with Sebastian, as if his Commander has his full trust. He keeps searching for any cracks, any proof that I am actively working to bring him down. But there’s nothing to find because there’s nothing to hide, so I feel his satisfaction rippling through my head.

Rookwood seems to retreat, but there is a pause before he comes back at full force and I start to convulse on the ground, my consciousness pulling me in and out. The floor of the Headmaster’s office is covered in crimson. I don’t know how long it’s been. It feels like I have been dying for hours. 

“The gala is two weeks away. Unless you are ready to lose some allies, I would recommend you to stop it now, uncle.” 

I hear Sebastian’s voice. My eyes, blurred with tears, search for him. He has finally finished his food and has reclined on the chair with lassitude. It’s hard to focus but I think I see his angry, cold gaze on Rookwood. Rookwood is still staring at me. I know he is looking in the archives of my memory for Sebastian and I. Together.

“You are wet for me already, aren’t you? Like you always are.”

I lead him straight here. To what he wants to see. To me on the desk, and Sebastian taking me from behind. Pretending to take me. 

“Dripping all over my cock like a good little whore.”

I hear the screams. My screams. Gods, it hurts so much. But I think that is exactly what makes the connection murkier and my thoughts more convoluted. I sense that Rookwood wants to keep going, but maintaining a bridge between our minds is also a strenuous task for him. Especially after not seeing anything of value. He abandons me at last, but the pain does not.

My body goes limp and my vision unfocused. 

I can hear voices, but I can’t put names to them. My brain feels swollen and numb and useless. My throat throbs after I scream myself hoarse. The last thing I remember is black, heavy boots heading towards me, strong arms lifting me off like I’m made of air. My cheek, soaked in blood and tears, presses against a warm chest while I’m carried away.

The smell of winter, and pine and leather reaches my nose. 

Then I’m gone. 

Chapter Text

Try to follow your light, but it's nighttime
Please, don't leave me in the end

There's darkness in the distance
I'm beggin' for forgiveness 

 

The Cabin

I let the silver strand curl around my index with absent motions. The texture isn’t much different from the rest of my hair, but the color catches the faintest light, making it glow like liquid moonshine. 

“Keep your hood up.” Sebastian instructs in his particularly flat voice without turning around. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he has eyes on the back of his neck. “At least until we get there.”

With the first trial successfully completed – to my surprise – something shifts in my companion at last, deciding that I ultimately need the training I asked for. I was very close to dying and I probably would have if Sebastian hadn’t caught me before I fell into the abyss. I don’t want to think of a different scenario, glad that he is here. Not that I was unhappy before. 

My eyes scan the broad shoulders in front of me as he leads the way, while I adjust my hood and tuck my hair inside it. 

“And where exactly are we going?” I inquire, lifting my feet off the forest floor to avoid stumbling over rocks and half sunk tree roots. 

“Somewhere safe.”

He gave me the same answer when I asked the first time he brought this place up. Finally conceding into giving me some basic training, Sebastian also mentioned we needed a place to do so that was out of the dark wizards warpath. Somewhere where we could spend some time building up my magic in the hopes that the next trial would be easier.

I know we don’t have that much time.

Every day I’m not reaching the repository, Rookwood becomes more volatile. The number of deaths rises and I can’t help but to think that blood is entirely on my hands.

But I also have to be practical. If I don’t know what I’m doing, I will die. And everything will be lost anyway.

There is also this… selfish, silly notion that I will be confined within four walls with Sebastian, and I can’t manage to fight that whirlwind of feelings that comes with it. The moment that thought crosses my mind, I come to a halt, almost caught by the surprise of how it is that I can think that in a moment like this. 

He must have heard me stop because he rotates on his feet, leveling me up with an intense stare. 

Dawn is near. Periwinkle colors bleed around the trees in the mildest of hues, enough to give Sebastian’s face a majestic aura. Everything about him is beautifully carved.

“What?” He inquires with an inkling of irritation in his voice.

I feel my cheeks heat up and I simply shake my head. “Nothing. I–” I clear my throat, resuming my steps while keeping my head down. I refuse to look at him any longer, not wanting to show him what I’m thinking. “You have been very vague about where we are going.”

He falls into step beside me, quiet for several seconds.

“We are heading northwest. A place we could stay for a few weeks, which also happens to be days of travel from the second trial.” There is a momentary pause. The forest is still silent so every little sound appears to be greater. Sebastian slides his tongue across his bottom lip as if he is mulling over something. “It is safe.” He makes careful emphasis on the last word.

“Is anywhere?” I mumble back. I realize that my tone comes out snarkier than I intended. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired.”

We have been on the move for almost a month. I was already trekking my way through the Highlands two weeks before I crossed paths with him. I can’t remember the last proper shower I took. Cleansing spells do wonders but they don’t eliminate that sensation of being… unclean. Sleeping on the ground doesn’t quite contribute to that feeling, either. Not accounting for how terrible of a mattress it is. 

Even now, I can feel the pain in between my shoulder blades after using a rock as a headrest. 

Through the corner of my eye, I sense Sebastian regarding me. I can almost visualize the expression in his face, stone-like. 

“Do you need to rest?” He finally asks. He doesn’t sound soft, but there is no dismissal in his tone, either. 

“Don’t you? We have been walking all night.”

I have no clue where exactly he draws all his energy from. We normally walk from sunup to sundown, except the days where he goes on a hunt. I haven’t seen his Animagus form yet, but I know that is what he uses to procure us substance based on the teeth mark I see on the furs of the animals he comes back with. With a good aim, and I have a feeling Sebastian has one, a wizard with a wand can cast a freezing spell on anything. It’s a faster way to obtain food than hunting for it. 

It doesn’t seem like something Sebastian would do.

When he isn’t hunting, he is by the fire, with me. Although he tends to keep his hood over his face, I know he is on guard. Listening. Watching the forest. And knowing that he does is enough for me to drift into sleep as soon as my head touches the ground. His presence makes me feel safe, somehow. 

“I am fine.” He replies. “But if you need to rest, we can stop.”

“No.” I shake my head, swallowing a yawn. “I can keep walking.”

“Good.” 

Sebastian fastens his pace without another word, positioning himself ahead of me. I know he is leading the way since I have no notion of where I’m going, but sometimes I can’t help but to feel that it’s just an excuse to not be within touching distance of me. I’m his charge.

He is helping me get to the trials because he is as invested as I am in ending this war.

Nothing more.

If I give my brain a hard enough squeeze, I can almost see how reserved and aloof he also was at school, too. It was always part of his charm, being broody. There was a rumor at school about his parents dying in an explosion around the time he was in his first year. Some people said Sebastian was in the house and he saw the whole thing, but nobody really knew or dared to ask directly.  

I steal glances at the back of his head and the graceful way he advances through the forest, careful not to slip. As winter comes, the surface of the rocks has become icy, promising a painful fall if I don’t pay attention to where I’m going.

My feet are simultaneously numb to the cold and on fire after days of constant walking, but I refuse to show any weakness. Sluggishly, I scratch my eyes. And I keep moving.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

It takes us three more days before we reach our destination. Sebastian is very cautious when abandoning the refuge of the trees to stalk towards the edge of a small hill overseeing a valley before he gestures to me that it is safe to approach.

As I get closer, I can hear the dead grass crunching under my boots. It doesn’t have that particular yellow-ish tone that it acquires during the colder seasons. 

It looks sort of grey. As if life has been suctioned out of it.

“Where are–” 

I start to ask in a mutter but I feel like the words abandon me the moment I glance down. We are in a small village, or what’s left of one. There are not that many houses left standing after the fire consumed them. Before Sebastian can stop me, I walk down the slope, my mouth agape.

It smells… No, it reeks of dark magic. It’s a pungent, tart scent that lingers in the air. My feet move as if they have a life of their own, going deeper and deeper in. I pass by a few cabins that have crumbled down to their foundation. The brick walls are covered in soot, and most of them have collapsed, revealing the devastation within. The fire has burned through everything.

I come to a stop in the middle of the village, reaching what looks like a plaza. The cobblestone street that takes me there is full of black patches. Once I pay closer attention to one of them, I realize it resembles the silhouette of a person. 

My heart lurches and my eyes glaze with burning tears, but I don’t allow myself to look away from it. Soft steps approach me from the back. Sebastian gives me a few seconds of silence before speaking.

“Loyalists came in the middle of the night.” His voice is soft but carries a note of something sharp. Like he is trying to repress his resentment. “It made the news a few years ago.”

“Why?” My whisper is barely a breath out. Seeing announcements in The Daily Prophet is vastly different to standing in the middle of a leftover battle.

“Because they could.” Sebastian responds. Slowly, I rotate on my feet to glance at him. He studies the surroundings for several more seconds before bringing his gaze to my face. His jaw clenches. “Because fear is a great tool to bring people to heel.” I lower my chin, biting the inside of my cheek. My body answers with a visceral reaction, a wave of vomit rising up my throat that I have to gulp down. “Some made it out.” He adds, probably seeing the distress on my face.

“Some, but not all.” 

My eyes inadvertently move towards that burn patch on the stone. Sebastian gives me the courtesy of not lying. His silence is more than enough, but I do feel him leveling a stare towards me before he looks around again. I notice his mouth opening, surely to remind me we need cover before it gets dark, but he doesn’t make a sound. Instead, he sucks a deep breath. 

His body goes suddenly rigid and I lift my head towards him.

He is staring at something over my shoulder, his face a mask of stone that only accentuates the sharp angles of his jawline. As I turn to follow his eyes, he takes a step forward, closing a hand on my forearm. “Don’t.”

It’s too late. I look. 

Across the plaza, there is a house that seems to have conserved most of its roof, although half of it is gone. I can see the beams through that gaping hole, holding what’s left. A body hangs from one of them. 

A charred body, swayed by the breeze. Now that I know it’s there, I can hear the rustling sound of the rope against the wood. If the village was attacked years ago, that means that person has been there ever since. Left to rot away. Perhaps under a spell to preserve the carbonized body as a warning.

As a mark of who did this.

I don’t bother to swallow the sickening feeling this time. I manage to rush away from Sebastian and bend over near one of the crumbled walls of the plaza before I vomit.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

We walk north, to the outskirts of the village. Sebastian takes me around it instead of through it, like I had thought he would. The structures of those houses would have been a good hiding place if loyalists appeared out of nowhere as opposed to striding through an open field. 

But I think he didn’t want to push me after my reaction. 

He let me retch until I had nothing left, and once I was done he didn’t address it, either. 

We reach a lone cabin right at sundown. This one looks abandoned but untouched by dark magic. Dead vines wrap around the brick walls. There are layers upon layers of dust covering the windows. There is no enchantment on the door, so when Sebastian pushes it, it opens with a faint creak. It’s dark inside, and it smells of mildew. With a wave of his wand, he casts a non-verbal spell that shoots through the unlit corridor in a quick flash of white. I determine it’s a spell to reveal any presence in the house.

“Wait here.” 

Sebastian says as we step into the foyer. He disappears in front of me, helped by the shadows that gather inside. The chilly air coming from outside fills my skin with goosebumps, and I brace myself, feeling a lot younger than I am. Feeling as if someone has stomped on me, over and over again. 

Like I’m a child released into a new world I have no knowledge of, and I just need anyone to guide me. To tell me what to do, and how to do it.

I feel out of my league. 

But I also invigorated with a new anger that has sunk its claws under my flesh, hot and bubbly. I hate this war. I hate death and I hate Rookwood.

I hate being in the center of it, resigned to being a pawn in a game of chess that everyone knows the rules of except me. 

Out of the shadows, Sebastian appears. The cabin itself doesn’t seem that large, so I find it fascinating how he manages to blend with the darkness. 

“Clear.” 

He says in a clipped tone, and walks up to me, our bodies merely inches away. I go rigid as a twig, only for him to shut the door close behind me after stretching his long arm next to my face. The wind stops slipping in, but the temperature inside the cottage is just as frigid. I feel the flicker of his wrist, and flames erupt in the fireplace, burning through all the logs that have been sitting there for Merlin knows how long.

The new light allows me to examine around. As I have predicted, the space is not that big. Immediately on our right, there is a kitchen and a rectangular table with a greyed out knitted crochet cloth. It’s set for a meal, with plates in front of two out of the four chairs around the table. Pots and pans hang from the ceiling of the kitchen. Dry herbs too, dampening the scent of mold with an earthy aroma. Half the walls around this corner of the room are both stone and tiles with beautiful blue mosaics.

The kitchen is open to the living space of the house, being no more than a red, chenille couch; a set of armchairs and the fireplace as the great scene-stealer. 

My steps are slow as I move to the center of the cabin, closer to the flames. I’m still shivering.

“I’ll take care of the wards.” Sebastian says at my back. “You should settle.”

I turn around in time to see him cross the threshold, and the main door closing behind him. There is a bedroom down the cabin. Upon investigating it, I realize that whoever lived here left in a hurry. Most of the clothes in the armoire have disappeared, leaving some of them still hanging, and others bundled up on the floor. 

There is a mild lavender smell, and I grab a blue pastel blouse to examine it better. Women's clothes.

The next piece of garment I take a hold of is a pair of pants with a masculine cut.

A couple lived here. They abandoned the cabin, surely after hearing the village nearby was under attack. Did they run together? Did they both make it?

Years and years of seeing people falling into an early grave because of the war and I can still feel a sting in my stomach at the sadness of this.

In my safe prison I came to accept that closure wasn’t a thing anymore. Some people disappeared to never be heard of again, and everyone concluded it was death.

It is part of this new reality. 

But somehow, holding these clothes makes my eyes water. I put them down back in the armoire and focus on examining the rest of the dormitory. The bed is big, occupying almost the entire space. Aside from the wardrobe, there are two small nightstands with flower crystal night lamps. I reach inside my robe and pull out my wand, flicking it towards them while muttering the appropriate spell.

A faint, orange light floods through the room and I stand in there, staring around like I’m lost. I can feel my pulse in my fingertips, blood roaring in my ears and sweat beading the back of my neck. I try to breathe, pressing a flat hand over my racing heart, eyes closed.

Seeking to lean my back against the nearest wall, I ride out the intense feeling of dread that overcomes me until my chest stops hurting. I don’t know how long I have been gasping, my brain a sea of fog that slowly begins to dissipate.

I don’t want Sebastian to see me like this. I don’t want him to think I’m weak. I don’t want to put this on him, either. It concerns me that I had this reaction to the simplest of things but perhaps it’s just the lack of sleep. 

I haven’t slept in a while. When did I have my last meal? 

I exhale a long breath. And then I hear the door of the cabin opening and closing again. After blinking a few times, I march out of the bedroom with a casual expression. 

Sebastian is still standing on the doorway, and our eyes meet across the space. I force a tight smile. 

“When do we start practicing?” My own voice sounds shaky and hollow.

He simply stares at me, long. Too long. His gaze makes a short path from my eyes to my midriff and back up. It’s like he can see right through my skin. Just when I think he is going to mention the slight twitch of my hands, he looks away while licking his lower lip. “Get some rest. We’ll start tomorrow at first light.”

“Are you going to sleep, too?”

“I’ll be awake for a while.” He says, his shoulder moving into a faint shrug. “Making sure the wards hold.”

“In that case, I’ll stay up and practice.” I say immediately, removing my cloak and letting it fall on the couch. “I’m not tired.” I hurry up to add. 

Sebastian gives me another extensive, evaluating look before he imitates my movements and unclasps his cloak. I follow the motion as he leaves it to hang on the back of one of the chairs before he turns to me. The flames cast a flickering light over his features, accentuating the sharp jawline and high cheekbones. His hair is still ruffled from the wind. 

“Get your wand.” Dipping my hand in the back pocket of my pants, I retrieve it as he orders, feeling a note of both excitement and dread in my stomach. I don’t know how Sebastian does it, but I blink once and his hand, a second ago empty, is now holding his wand. “I’m going to cast a spell at you on the count of three.” He explains without shifting his casual stance. “Your job is to protect yourself from it.”

“Understood.” 

I mutter, preparing for it. I can’t believe that he has agreed to help me after all. My mind is a swirl of thoughts I try to clear, aware that I need focus in order to do this. I haven’t fully witnessed how adept he is with magic now, but I just know that Sebastian Sallow is second to few, if Cross Wands tournaments have something to say.

“Ready?” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. A dangerous one, which he pairs with a blank expression. I nod, my heart pumping and pumping so violently my vision goes foggy for a moment. “One…”

There is a flash of light before he finishes counting and a short but intense gust of wind blowing at my face. I feel my wand being jerked away from my palm, and I see it spinning upwards, in an arch. Away from me and towards Sebastian, who catches it with an elegant motion. My bare hand is tingling after the magic struck it but what really prickles at me is the deception.

With wide open eyes, I stare at him. “You lied.”

“I did.” He replies with a flat tone as he advances in my direction until I have to tilt my head back to glance at his face. “That is your first lesson: never trust that your enemies will do as they say.” Sebastian’s gaze hardens and I almost flinch but my feet are solidified to the ground. “Be ready always and nothing will surprise you.” 

He offers my wand back to me and I just lower my eyes, unable to face him. But when I reach out to grab it, he doesn’t let go. Slowly, I raise my chin again. “You aren’t doing anyone any favors by staying awake. Go to sleep.”

Finally letting go of the wand, Sebastian turns around and heads back into the kitchen. He strips himself from his gloves and the small satchel I know he has enchanted with an Extension Charm, just as I have. A beat of silence stretches in the cabin, only interrupted by the crackling of the fire. 

I can’t help myself. The question pours out of me, as if it has a mind of its own.

“He’s been hanging there… for years?” I can feel it again, that burning sensation that expands from my chest to every inch of my body. “Nobody has bothered to get him down?”

Through my lashes, I notice Sebastian’s momentary pause. 

“There must be some sort of curse that stops others from doing so.” He is careful with his assertion, I realize by the way he talks. “Maybe it was deemed not worth the trouble.” I suck in a deep breath as I take a step back. And another. Before I turn around and enter the dormitory, his voice stops me again. “It’s not about the people you lose.” I meet his eyes, noticing how his stance becomes less rigid. “It’s the people you save.”

After that, I enter the dormitory and close the door behind me, resting against the surface for several minutes. Exhaustion kicks me so suddenly, my legs buckle under my weight, and I barely have time to cast a cleaning charm on the dusty sheets before I drop on the mattress. I don’t even bother getting under the covers. 

It’s the people you save.

My sleep is dreamless but I can still hear those words drilling in my head as I drift away.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I come alive again with the sunlight bleeding all over my face. It’s bright. Too bright, I realize when I try to open my eyes and I go momentarily blind. I blink several times, adjusting to it while I push myself up from the mattress. Judging by how high the sun is, it has to be close to noon. Which means I have slept for almost sixteen hours. 

My body is full of aches as I peel myself from the blankets and drag my steps towards the door. Sebastian is not in the cabin. This doesn’t worry me right away after spending a few weeks with him and waking up alone in the forest. 

I know he is in the vicinity, perhaps making sure there are no Snatchers nearby, or searching for food.

I take advantage of his absence to go into the bathroom, which I barely peeked into the night before. It’s small, with checkered tile floors, some a bit cracked, that do not match the aesthetic of the rest of the house. The standing shower is made of white stone that seems to have been corroding with time and humidity. 

Almost not wanting to get my hopes up, I turn on the water, only to be surprised by the gurgling sounds that start somewhere under my feet and move rapidly up the wall and into the shower head.

A few drops spatter from it with force before turning into a running stream. I exhale a sigh of relief before shutting the water. No more cleansing spells. 

On my way out, I walk by the mirror sitting on top of the sink. Rust has claimed the edges, advancing towards the center and limiting the reflection, but I can still see myself for the first time in a long time.

My hair is tangled up, I’m pale and dark circles have settled under my eyes. I have lost weight, surely after weeks of walking, giving me a very gaunt appearance. My lips are a little cracked. 

Is this what Sebastian has seen every day for the past month? 

There are bigger issues at hand, and yet… It sort of makes me feel ashamed of myself that I care about my image around him.

I shake my head and leave the bathroom, walking into the living area. My steps pause, realizing something I overlooked the night before: there is only one bedroom, one bed.

My gaze sweeps around the space towards the couch, noticing thick blankets and a pillow sitting on one of the cushions. 

While I make the connections of Sebastian’s sleeping arrangements, the door of the cabin opens and my body jerks in surprise. 

He is so tall, and his shoulders so broad, he nearly grazes the frame at every angle. Sebastian stares at me as he marches inside, shutting the door close behind him. He is holding two dead rabbits by the ears. 

“Breakfast.” He raps with a taunting note. “Or in your case, supper.”

I go red in response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep so–

“It’s fine.” Sebastian cuts me off, waving his hand in dismissal as he sets the animals on the counter and removes his cloak. “We’ll get a quick bite and start practicing after.” 

“We can take turns.” I blurt out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before gathering courage to continue. “Sleeping on the bed, I mean.”

“I can take the couch.” He replies with mild irritation, as if I have insulted him somehow. “Eat. It’s going to be a long day.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

My bones feel brittle a few hours in. Sebastian Sallow is skilled and elegant but also vicious and unrelenting as a professor. He pushes my limits and forces me to repeat anything he determines I do wrong, which is a lot, until I get it right. 

He shows me dueling stances and wand movements and lasting protection spells when under constant attack. Magic is as strong as the person casting it, which is why my defensive bubbles shatter quite easily after very few of his hits. 

My offense is even worse.

“I can stand still without a bubble and you’d still land a jinx on me zero out of ten times.”

His remarks throughout the day are scarce but brutal. I mostly get disapproval looks and expressions of contempt that make me push harder and harder, near my breaking point. I’m sure that is what he wants. Breathing becomes laborious halfway through my training. Seeing him barely break a sweat while I struggle is detrimental for my humor. 

We practice right outside of the cottage, until the sun starts to set and the cold becomes unbearable. 

“That is it for today.” Sebastian dips his hand in his hair, pushing it backwards and out of his face as he nods towards the house. “Same time tomorrow.”

“Oh, thanks Merlin.” I mutter to myself, letting out a sigh of pure exhaustion. There is not a single bone in my body that doesn’t hurt, a muscle that doesn’t ache. My right hand especially throbs when I try to uncurl it after holding my wand for so long.

The cabin is warm and welcoming when we walk in and a part of me almost wants to head out to bed and go to sleep until the next day; my rumbling stomach has other plans.

“I can start the food.” Sebastian says as if he has heard my starving thoughts. 

He always seems to be paying an eye to my basic needs. If I’m hungry or cold, he is there to fix that. But he doesn’t engage, doesn’t open up, doesn’t want to ask questions. I have grown used to his indifference. Travelling with him, I have also learned to keep quiet and let him take care of things.

However, here in the cabin, in the intimacy of four walls, a new boldness wakes up.

“You know…” I speak softly, still massaging my sore palm as I turn around to face him. “I can cook.” I watch Sebastian move around the kitchen, casting a non-verbal spell to fire up the buck cooking stove. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge me, so I clear my throat and walk around the table until I stand next to him. “I’ll do it.”

There is an expression of concentration in his face before I see him tilt his gaze down on me, scanning me from top to bottom.

“I can manage.” He finally responds, I swear I see the corner of his mouth lifting in a dry smile.

“I know. But you are always taking care of me.” I refuse to budge, holding his gaze. “Let me do this.” His movements linger and I use the momentum to soften my voice, hopeful I convey my message properly. “It’s alright to let others do things for you, Sebastian.”

The silence coming from him becomes almost stifling. Perhaps I have pushed too far, too fast. He doesn’t talk much about himself, but I know he grew up without his parents, with an uncle that, with the little information I gathered, wasn’t very big on expressing feelings. Maybe that is the root of Sebastian’s emotional detachment. 

A blush tints my cheeks red as he continues to stare at me. Finally –and surprisingly– he takes a step back and gives me full control of the kitchen. 

“Food will be ready in a few.” I announce, tucking my hair behind my ears. “You should take a shower in the meantime.” 

I don’t know if I feel relieved or disappointed when he follows my advice.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I get familiar in the kitchen with the sound of running water in the background. While the meat cooks, I stand on my toes, head pushed back, in order to get my nose closer to the array of dry herbs that hang from the ceiling. The mild scents slither down to me, and so I stretch my hand to reach for the ones I need. 

Making use of a cutting board, I slice them in tiny pieces before dropping them in the bubbling broth. To my surprise, there is still food left in the cottage.

Mostly tin cans, an invention taken from muggles, but these ones enchanted to last longer. There isn’t much. I see peas, beans, soup and tuna. My mouth waters immediately and I have to fight the urge to just grab one at random and eat it before Sebastian leaves the bathroom. 

It feels odd, whatever this is. Prepare food for him while he showers twenty feet away. Trust him with my life, not knowing much about him. Being alone also gives me time to think about the journey, what we have seen in our way. About the trials, the precarious state of the Wizarding community in Britain. And, against my will, my mind takes me to the hanging figure we saw. Still there after so many years.

The hand I have been using to hold the ladle and stir the stew with freezes and I cringe, my stomach forgetting I’m supposed to be starving to present me with a wave of nausea. 

I close my eyes, beckoning myself to reel it in. Bellowing within my own mind to remember why we are here.

This is a war. There are bodies everywhere. I have read the news, and I have grown accustomed to it. 

I never thought the shock of seeing it would affect me so much. It plagues my mind every time I can stop to think about it. 

I don’t realize I have been holding the ladle so hard, my right hand is cramping again, and a new pain shoots through me, returning me to the moment. I release the utensil, letting it rest against the pot while I massage the center of my palm with absentminded motions. Unaware that I’m not alone anymore, and the running water has stopped. 

“It smells good.” 

Sebastian’s voice is quiet, less flat than normal. It makes me jump before I turn around to face him. He is wearing dark cotton pants and a short sleeve shirt that I haven’t seen on him before. I suppose it makes sense for right now. While traveling, we always wore thick cloaks to protect ourselves from the frigid air, so I never got to see him with… less clothing.

His wet hair is pushed to the side, but some loose strands fall over his forehead. The scent of soap reaches me.

I feel extremely self-conscious of my own need for a shower while he looks this clean. 

“It will be ready in around fifteen minutes.” I respond, offering him a smile that falters before I start speaking again. “I’m going to…”

“Go.” He grabs the backrest of one of the chairs, jerking his head towards the bathroom door. “There are towels in there for you.” 

I’m still holding my aching palm as I head down the living room, stopping in the dormitory first to get my bag before making it to the bathroom and closing the door behind me. Sebastian has been as thorough with packing his satchel as I have, if not more. There are indeed towels and soaps that weren’t there before, and I make use of the latter while I take the most scolding shower my body can take. 

For a moment, I forget about everything, letting the searing water wash away the weeks of stress and the years of sadness this war has thrown at me. 

By the time I leave the shower, every surface in the bathroom is covered with a layer of condensation. From my purse, I pull out a pair of pajamas I haven’t been able to wear since I left the safehouse, but I’m certainly glad I brought them with me. 

The soft fabric feels wonderful against my skin, and for the first time in weeks I feel clean. And then the exhaustion comes at me fully; it was dripping before but it gushes out now with intensity, as if the hot water has indeed taken my worries down the drain. 

I wipe the mirror to glance at myself again, untangling my wet hair with a small brush I had the good sense of packing. That silver strand catches my eye immediately; brushing the tip of my fingers over it, I try to remember precisely when it could’ve happened. Perhaps as I dipped my hand inside that white glow of Ancient Magic in the first trial. 

If that is the case, I might walk away with another marking after I complete the second trial. That, of course, if I manage to complete it. 

But I have to. Gods, I have to do it. 

I abandon the bathroom while reveling in that determination, coming into Sebastian serving supper on the table. It is now countless times I have thought about pinching myself since we made it here. Back at school, if someone told me I would be living with him almost six years later, I would have laughed. 

“You are right.” I say as I approach the table, watching him fill two cups with water. “It does smell good.”

“All you.” 

I know it’s a compliment but the delivery is as laconic as anything else he says. When he puts the cups down, I notice that he has chosen the two seats on the opposite sides of the table, further away from each other. My lips press into a thin line but I don’t say anything, pulling out one of the chairs and dropping my weight on it. Once my eyes meet with the stew, I can hardly think of anything else that isn't food.

Not even Sebastian Sallow.

I don’t even reach for my silverware, holding the bowl up to my mouth and drinking the watered down broth in one gulp. There’s only rice, peas and chunks of meat behind when I set the container back on the table. And I come face to face with Sebastian’s stare.

One arm bracing the table, the opposite hand holding his fork mid air, as if he was ready to dive into his own food but the sight of me was too distracting. 

He doesn’t say anything right away, letting me wallow in embarrassment as he scratches one corner of his mouth. 

“Hungry?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he is fighting not to bark a laugh.

“Just a little.” I mutter in response, making now use of my fork and stabbing the small pieces of meat to bring them to my mouth. A beat of silence stretches through the kitchen, interrupted by the soft clicking of the silverware and the wind rattling against the glass of the windows. And it is in that silence that treacherous thoughts come alive once more. I quickly glance at Sebastian through my eyelashes before returning my attention back to my food. The meat is so tender, it falls apart at the mere contact of my fork. “Do you think whoever lived here is still alive?”

A stupid question that just makes me naive for even asking it. I don’t know if I’m looking more for an honest answer or simple reassurance. Sebastian reaches for his glass and takes a long sip of water before speaking. 

“Maybe.” His tone is guarded, and he doesn’t look up at me as he continues digging at his food, clearly untroubled. “Maybe not.”

I feel my throat constricting. “Maybe they fled the country.” I throw out with forced optimism, hoping he agrees with me. Instead, he doesn’t say anything. A new vomit of words comes out of my mouth. “I would like to go back to the village.” His somber gaze clashes with mine across the table, eyebrows furrowing in questioning. “To bring the body down.”

“No.” He counters immediately, shaking his head. “It’s too risky. If the body was struck with a curse, it won’t be worth the trouble.”

“It’s been there for years.” His resistance makes me set my fork down and stare back with incredulity. “It’s not right.”

“Exactly. It’s been there for years.” Sebastian drawls with an icy edge to it. “What’s to say it hasn’t become a landmark that others know about?”

His question lands true and I feel myself recoiling in my chair. “They don’t have to know I was involv–

“I said no.” 

I heave a long sigh, the defeat crawling in as I reach for my water cup and drink half of its content at once. My palm cramps almost immediately so I switch hands. For a moment, I consider storming off to the bedroom without uttering another word but deep down, I know he is right. Slytherins and their self preservation, I’d like to sneer at him. But that is exactly what’s keeping us alive while everything else collapses. Perhaps Sebastian notices how the atmosphere has thickened around us because I watch his jaw clench and unclench several times, as if wishing to add something else. He slides his tongue across his bottom teeth and I brace for it. “Perhaps we should sleep. We have a long day of practice tomorrow.”

Half-expecting him to soften up, this feels disappointing. “Will we do the same as today?”

“Today was just for me to get a sense of where you stand with spells.” His nostrils seem to flare a little, the flickering flames sharpening the lines around his face. “You are massively underprepared. Lucky you found me when you did.”

“You found me.” 

I shoot back, unable to address the prior statement out of shame. Of course I am lousy with magic. After Hogwarts, I was living in a house where I couldn’t practice most spells. I can feel Sebastian’s eyes across the table, examining me.

“Hardly.” He replies, offering me a wry smirk as he brings the cup to his mouth for another sip. We’ve had this conversation before, weeks ago. I have no clue what he could possibly mean with that because he speaks again. This time it feels as if the words are being forced out of him with pliers. “You are like a bloody beacon.” 

My eyes narrow, detecting the slight hiss of his voice in the so clear insult. “Pardon?”

“You are unable to hide your presence anywhere you go.” His hand waves with dismissal. “The cloak doesn’t matter, the hood doesn’t matter.” His eyes fixate on something over my shoulder, almost as if refusing to meet my eyes. “Anyone with two eyes is going to know exactly who you are.” I don’t know how to answer, so I don’t, allowing a moment of pause to continue. But he simply massages his right temple. “I’ll clean up. Go to bed.”

I remain on my seat just a few more seconds, pondering about what is forcing him to believe I could attract such attention. But I’m tired and he is right. I need to rest. 

“Goodnight, Sebastian.” I mutter, raising to my feet.

All he does is nod his head in silence. I don’t hear the scrapping of his chair until an hour later, from the bedroom. I guess neither one will have a sound sleep tonight. 

Chapter Text