TW: implied murder, parental loss.
-x-
The curtains were drawn.
Why were the curtains drawn?
Her mother hated having the house closed up in summer. She always made a point of leaving the windows open, welcoming in the summer breeze and the sound of cicadas singing in the fields beyond the house. Aurélie had always liked it that way, too. Sometimes, when the summer nights were hot and her bedsheets stuck to her skin, the sound of the nearby ocean would lull her to sleep.
Tonight was one of those nights. Hot and alive with pretty night sounds.
So why was everything shut tight?
The sitting room was thick with shadows. No light. No warmth. Cold despite the season.
Aurélie called out, but her trembling voice was swallowed up by the darkness.
'Maman?'
No answer.
Why?
Slowly, indistinct shapes began to take form in the darkness, revealing themselves through the gloom as nothing more than flat, featureless silhouettes.
A bookcase.
Her father's reading chair.
And two piles of blankets on the floor.
No. Not blankets.
Bodies.
Bodies?
The rustle of fabric drew her attention as two shadows peeled away from the others.
Not a bookshelf.
Not a chair.
Something else.
One was tall and lithe, the other staunch and hulking. She stumbled backwards as the tall one extended a long, graceful arm and turned to face her, his wand pointed squarely at her chest. The sound of his swishing cloak was magnified in the silence.
Rushing wings of death.
'Ah, dear Aurélie,' said the figure, pronouncing her name the French way as he politely inclined his head beneath his hood. 'Please do forgive us for the intrusion, but my brother here was rather impatient to make your acquaintance. You see, you have something we need.'
His voice was soft, musical. He spoke as pleasantly as if he were an old friend stopping by for tea.
The second shadow grunted, hatred and impatience clear even in the wordless exclamation.
She took another step back as something silvery shot out of her wand and took off through the nearest window.
And then there was red.
Only red and only pain.
Aurélie started awake, gasping. She did not fall asleep again for the rest of the night.
-x-
Aurélie's next few days at Hogwarts passed in much the same manner as her first. Thanks in large to her duel with Sebastian, which had already become something of a Hogwarts legend, she was still garnering far more attention than she was comfortable with. Stares and whispers followed her through the castle so persistently it was like having her own personal poltergeist whispering in her ear wherever she went. Of course, the actual poltergeist did the same thing, only he preferred to sing nasty limericks at her so that everyone within several floors could hear him teasing her about being French and red-headed.
But worse than the gossip and the open-mouthed stares and the rude rhymes about her heritage were the questions from the more curious students among them. Did she miss France? What was Beauxbatons like? Had she ever eaten frogs legs? And - worst of all - why in Merlin's name did her parents make her transfer in her seventh year?
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. She got lost every time she tried to find her way to class, was rescued and subsequently scolded twice by Ominis - who seemed to have an uncanny knack for finding her whenever she was way off course - and was so late to her first potions class that her new potions master Professor Sharp took five points from Ravenclaw - a punishment she thought was so unfair that if Sharp wasn't such a formidable looking man, she might've argued about it.
Instead, she muttered a quick apology and headed for the only empty space at the nearest potions station, which was occupied the red-haired Gryffindor boy who'd stood up to watch her at the sorting ceremony - and her least favourite Slytherin. The latter of the two smirked at her as she approached like he'd planned the seating arrangements in advance just to grind her gears, while the Gryffindor offered her a sympathetic smile.
'If you prefer having hair on your head, I wouldn't get anywhere near Garreth's cauldron if I were you,' Sebastian warned in a low voice, his trademark smirk set firmly upon his freckled face.
Aurélie sniffed, putting as much derision into it as she could muster, but her hand flew up to shield her long braid as she came to stand next to the Gryffindor.
'Shut up, Sallow,' muttered Garreth, who turned to her with a smile he likely intended to look reassuring but bordered on being a little bit frantic. 'I haven't blown up a cauldron since fifth year, I promise.'
'Which means he's well overdue for a disaster,' Sebastian put 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, 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 her protective grip around it.
She'd hoped that Sebastian might've eased up on her a bit since she'd agreed to join his stupid duelling club, but no; if anything, he'd only become more insufferable. Like a poorly-trained, disobedient stray dog, he'd taken to sitting close enough in their shared classes that she could hear his every sigh, every annoying tap of his quill and shuffle of his restless feet under the desk as if he was just 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 spilt a whole ink pot over her notes and had to endure an infuriating lecture from Professor Weasley about not flailing her limbs about in class - as if it had been her fault.
Aurélie wasn't entirely sure what it was about her 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.
Eyes the colour of tea stains and musty old books.
'I'll take the risk, thanks,' she said stiffly, though she threw a sidelong glance at Garreth's empty cauldron with some trepidation.
'Fine,' he replied, rolling his English Breakfast eyes, 'but don't say I didn't warn you. It'll be a shame to see that lovely hair ruined by this moron's incompetence, that's all.'
She blinked.
Lovely hair?
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.
And shut up they did.
From that point on, even Sebastian Sallow took second place in her attention span as she tried to follow Sharp's lecture on ingredients she'd never heard of let alone brewed in a potion before. It was clear that N.E.W.T potion class was going to be akin to torture; Sharp's lecture - most of which was in Latin - was so wildly complicated that she had half a mind to quit school right then and there. Beside her, Garreth continuously rubbed his forehead in frustration, while across the table, Sebastian's expression of genuine confusion made him look like an entirely different person.
By the time the double period was over, Aurelie's brain felt as if it had been stomped over by a herd of furious Graphorn's then danced upon by a hundred exuberant pixies.
Thankfully, it was Garreth and not Sebastian who caught up with her in the corridor outside, looking just as relieved as she was to be free from Sharp's clutches; his swooping mop of strawberry-coloured hair was standing up in wild disarray from repeatedly running his hand through it, and there were splashes of dried potion and singe marks on his scarlet robes - apparent evidence of previous potion mishaps.
'Five points from Ravenclaw and you're being bossed around by Sallow? Lucky you,' he said with a wide, easy grin.
'Lucky me,' she repeated sardonically, earning herself a chuckle from her new Gryffindor companion.
'Don't worry about Sharp, he's alright if you do as he says,' he told her as they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, their footsteps echoing around the dingy underground corridor. 'He's strict but he's fair. Sallow, on the other hand - '
Aurélie shivered, pulling her robes tighter around her body to ward off the chill in the air. The dungeons were undoubtedly the worst part of the castle: how the Slytherins could bear living under the cold, damp lake, Aurélie couldn't fathom.
'Weasley!'
Sebastian's voice reverberated around them, sending a jolt through her body that she felt right down in her toes.
Without preamble, he elbowed his way between them, forcing the two apart to accommodate his tall frame in the narrow corridor. He was much taller up close than she'd realised; she had to dodge to avoid copping his shoulder to her face as he angled his body toward the Gryffindor like a shield.
'Aurélie speaks French, not Troll,' he sneered. 'I doubt she understands the nonsense you're grunting at her right now.'
'I doubt very much she speaks Dark Wizard, either, Sallow, so why are you bothering?' Though she couldn't see his face beyond the Slytherin's broad shoulder, Garreth's voice had suddenly lost most of its mirth.
Sebastian snorted. 'Don't ever listen to anything this idiot says, Aurélie. Every word out of his mouth is utter drivel.'
'Oh, sweet, simple Sebastian.' Garreth reached out to ruffle Sebastian's untamed mess of curls. 'How I missed the sweet, dulcet tones of your pathetically predictable insults over the summer. Like whispering sweet nothings, they are. I could fall asleep to the sound of you trying and failing to hurt my feelings.'
'Stay away from this git, Aurélie,' Sebastian muttered, swatting Garreth's hand away. 'He's an arrogant git and a shameless flirt.'
'A shameless flirt?' Garreth snorted. 'Oh, that's right, Sallow, I almost forgot that you're the beacon of virtue and chastity against which we all aspire to model ourselves. How's Imelda, by the way?'
Sebastian's responding glare was almost fierce enough to set Garreth's hair on fire; something Aurélie was certain he might actually do given half the chance.
'Shove off, Garreth.'
But Garreth only laughed. 'Poor little Sallow. He's like this with all the pretty girls, Aurélie. Bit possessive, you know? He's like a child with a shiny new set of Gobstones. Doesn't want to share at first, but once the novelty wears off, he loses interest pretty quickly.'
To absolutely nobody's surprise, Sebastian Sallow was the very first student to get detention that year, because the moment he pointed his wand at Garreth's chest was the same moment Professor Sharp appeared behind them. The last Aurélie saw of him, he was being dragged down the corridor by the ear while Sharp scolded him with the all fury of a long-suffering professor who'd well and truly reached his limit.
'You're a seventh-year, Sallow, not a bloody child! Only three days into the school year and you've already earned yourself a week's worth of detention. Please, do take a moment to be proud of yourself, because at this rate, detention will likely be the only thing you achieve this year!'
'You should rethink your choice of friends,' said Garreth over the echoes of Sebastian's vehement counter argument, 'because that one is bad news.'
Aurélie's hurried to keep up with his long-legged strides as they took to a tightly winding staircase together.
'Bad news?'
Garreth cast her a sidelong glance, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.
'Well,' he began, 'let's just say there are a lot of... unsettling rumours about him.'
'What sort of rumours?' she asked, panting slightly as they finally ascended from the dungeons.
Garreth bent his head toward her, the vibrant shade of his hair made all the more vivid under the torchlight of the castle's upper floors. Now that they were free of the gloomy dungeons, everything suddenly seemed glaringly bright.
'Listen, I'm only telling you this because I think you should know who you're getting involved with before it's too late. You seem far too sweet to be caught up with the likes of Sallow.'
Aurélie scoffed, wondering which part of her new sleep-deprived, chronically-stressed-out, grieving-the-violent deaths-of-her-parents personality he found sweet. Maybe she'd been sweet once, but not any more.
'And who, exactly, would I be getting involved with?' she asked, rubbing a hand across her forehead. 'Not that I plan on getting involved with Sebastian, at any rate.'
They'd reached the enormous doors of the Great Hall, which stood open to allow the usual chaotic din of feeding time at Hogwarts to wash over them. Briefly, Aurélie closed her eyes and wished for Beauxbatons. Oh, to eat a meal while wood nymphs serenaded her with chamber music again. Oh, to have wine with dinner. Merlin, what she wouldn't give for some wine.
The sound of Garreth's scoff brought her back to reality.
'Sallow and his sister Anne used to live in Feldcroft with their uncle Solomon. At the end of our fifth year, Solomon died rather suddenly.'
'And?'
He glanced around surreptitiously and continued in a voice that was almost too low to carry despite how close they were standing.
'Well, Sebastian disappeared right after it happened. Didn't come to the end-of-year feast or anything, didn't tell anyone he was leaving - just left. No one knew where he'd gone or if he was ever coming back again.'
'So he took time away after losing another family member. What's wrong with that?'
After everything Sebastian had gone through, Aurélie didn't think it unreasonable that he should want to disappear for a while. She felt another twinge of sympathy that she wished she would stop feeling.
Garreth stepped a closer, ducked his head lower. 'Well, some say he wasn't taking time away to mourn so much as he was hiding from what he'd done.'
'What he'd done? Are you - what are you implying?'
'Look,' he said, gesturing at her to keep her voice down, 'all I know is that after his sister was cursed, Sallow went a bit... dark.'
'Dark? What do you mean, dark? And I thought his sister was ill, not cursed?'
'That's the story they gave everyone, but c'mon, he's a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake. They're sort of known for... Well, you know...'
'Actually, I don't know,' she said sharply, quickly losing her patience. 'I've just come from Beauxbatons, remember? I know nothing of these ridiculous house rivalries you're all so obsessed with.'
'They're all drawn to the Dark Arts,' he said in a tone that suggested she was a bit simple. 'Everybody knows that. Rumour has it that Sebastian was dabbling in dark magic and when his uncle found out about it... Well, let's just say that the death of Mr Sallow was very unexpected, to say the least.'
Garreth gazed at her intently as if waiting for understanding to dawn. When it didn't, he sighed in exasperation.
'I happen to have it on good authority that Mr Sallow's wand wasn't even checked with Priori Incantatem before they buried him. Strange, don't you think? A wizard's wand is always checked for their last spell after they die. It's protocol. It's almost as if someone was trying to cover something up. Some say that Ominis used his family's connections to keep it all hush-hush.'
'Ominis?'
'Ominis is a Gaunt,' he said as if this explained everything. 'A direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, which means he's from one of the most powerful wizarding families in existence - and the darkest.' He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the room as if he expected Salazar Slytherin himself to jump out at them at any moment.
'Thankfully, Ominis isn't nearly half as bad as his brothers. They were both a few years above him and they were monsters. They've graduated now but let me tell you, I've never been so happy to see the back of anyone.' He shuddered delicately, his green eyes fixed on some faraway point beyond her head. 'Still, I'd keep my distance, if I were you. Being close to Sallow means being close to the Gaunt's, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone.'
Aurélie chewed her lip, unsure of what to say to a revelation like that.
'Look, I don't say all this to scare you,' he said, noticing her consternation, 'but you should know the truth.'
'The truth?' Aurélie's brows shot upwards. 'I appreciate that, Garreth, but you've told me nothing but hearsay and gossip - and the rather nasty sort, at that.'
'Fine, fine, that's fair enough.' He heaved a sigh. 'Believe what you will, but all I'm saying is be careful, alright? If you choose to align yourself with the likes of Sallow, he'll only lead you to trouble. And not the good kind of trouble, either.'
That night in her bed, Aurélie replayed the conversation over and over in her mind.
He'll only lead you to trouble.
She snorted into her pillow. Well, that much was obvious - the boy clearly thrived on being antagonistic.
But a murderer?
Hadn't Poppy had told her that Sebastian had done something terrible in his fifth year that not even his twin sister could forgive him for?
And yet...
Hadn't she also told her of his losses? His parents, his sister, his uncle...
Sebastian was undoubtedly a huge pain in the arse, but she just couldn't believe he was a killer.
He'll only lead you to trouble... And not the good kind...
She wasn't sure what the good kind of trouble was supposed to be, but as she rolled over, seeking sleep that would once again evade her, she couldn't help but think that if Sebastian Sallow wasn't the good kind of trouble, then she wasn't sure she wanted the good kind at all.
And that was the most troubling thought of all.
Aurélie by my most treasured precious German potato SleepyWitchLory