How to Make a Villain - [Sebastian Sallow x F!OC]

[five]

So frequently were these queries sprung upon her that she'd invented a whole backstory to save her from reliving trauma every time she met someone new. As a result, the lies she answered with were becoming easier to repeat. Outwardly, she was quite good at pretending her parents were off gallivanting around the world for work and not lying six feet underground in a graveyard in the south of France. Inwardly, every time she told her falsehoods, she wanted to curl up and join them.

Her sense of direction did not improve;  twice she was rescued and subsequently scolded by Ominis (who seemed to have an uncanny knack for discovering her lost in the dungeons), and she was so late to her first potions class that Professor Sharp, the formidable, no-nonsense potions master, took five points from Ravenclaw and threatened to fail her if she showed up late again.

'Punctuality is a required skill in my N.E.W.T class, Miss Collins. I will not tolerate lateness again.'

Muttering a quick apology, she hurried over to the nearest potting station, where she recognised the red-haired Gryffindor boy who'd stood up to watch her at the Sorting — and her least favourite Slytherin, who smirked at her like he'd planned the seating arrangements in advance just to grind her gears.

'A word of warning,' murmured Sebastian as she approached. 'If you prefer having hair on your head, I wouldn't stand anywhere near Weasley's cauldron if I were you.'

'Shut up, Sallow,' muttered the red-head, who gave her a sympathetic smile as she came to stand beside him. 'I haven't blown up a cauldron since fifth year, promise. It's Garreth, by the way. Garreth Wea—'

'Which means he's well overdue for a disaster,' Sebastian cut in, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing her with a look that dared her to defy him. 'Truly, Aurélie, if you like the way you look — and I dare say you do — I'd stay on my side of the table.' His gaze trailed slowly down the length of her braid, his smirk growing ever more amused as he eyed the protective grip she had around it.

Aurélie had hoped, rather foolishly, that Sebastian might've eased up on her since she'd agreed to join his stupid duelling club, but if anything, he'd only become more insufferable. Like a poorly-trained, disobedient stray dog, he'd taken to sitting close enough in their classes that she could hear every impatient sigh and restless shuffle as if he was itching to jump up and duel her again.

But worse than his infernal fidgeting was the way he stared at her.

Relentlessly.

She caught his eye so often that it was beginning to make her perpetually flustered. After one such instance in Transfiguration class, she'd spilt a whole ink pot over her notes and subsequently had to endure a lecture from Professor Weasley about the importance of not "flailing her limbs about" when she was in possession of a wand — as if it had been her fault!

Aurélie wasn't sure what it was about her existence that Sebastian found so chronically frustrating, but she couldn't seem to escape the attention of those stupid brown eyes no matter how hard she tried to avoid him.

Eyes the colour of tea stains and musty old books.

'I'll take the risk, thank you,' she said stiffly, though she threw a sidelong glance at Garreth's empty cauldron with some trepidation.

'Fine,' Sebastian replied, rolling his English Breakfast eyes, 'but don't say I didn't warn you. It'll be a shame to see that pretty hair ruined by this moron's incompetence, that's all.'

She blinked.

Pretty hair?

Hers?

She had little time to ponder this any further, for at that same moment, Professor Sharp loomed over them and threatened to take points from each of their houses if they didn't shut up and listen.