A/N: This chapter deals with mature subjects including trauma, murder, and mild sexual references. As we enter Act Two of the story, these themes will becomes more prevalent throughout.
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-x-
Darkness, in both the literal and figurative sense, was handy for hiding many things one might want to keep shrouded in mystery: secrets, as Sebastian knew from experience, did very well veiled in the darkness of ignorance, while physical objects, like stolen books and mysterious relics, fared much better hidden in dusty corners, stashed under dormitory beds, or even - if desperation called for it - buried in underground caverns where the likelihood of their discovery was slim to none.
Sebastian had always been grateful for the reprieve of darkness, but never more so than after he'd climbed out of that narrow alcove, overwhelmed by the scent of jasmine and fucking roses and the lingering warmth of a small, soft body pressed firmly against his. - Of all the bloody secrets he was trying to keep from coming to light, the physical evidence of desire was not one he'd anticipated.
Thankfully, the source of that desire - who was presently still hidden under his disillusionment as they ventured across the moonlit lawns, still smelling like a fucking flower garden, and still, he imagined, warm and soft and supple - hadn't appeared to have noticed his... predicament. But then again, maybe she had. Maybe the wide berth she was giving him was because he'd practically moaned into her mouth.
Sebastian clenched his jaw, thankful that he'd had the foresight to don his long robe lest his disillusionment charm fail at another inopportune moment.
He was no stranger to girls, of course, nor oblivious to the effects he had on them; there were perks to being taller and older than the other boys in his year, and despite the rumours that abounded about his murky past, he'd never suffered a lack of romantic attention. In fact, if the groups of giggling girls that followed him around were anything to go by, the rumours seemed only to increase his popularity, not diminish it. As such, he'd touched and been touched enough times that if the opportunity with a willing partner presented itself, it wasn't something he generally shied away from.
But by Merlin's nine-inch goatee, this was different. She was different. Girls, generally speaking, were one thing, but Aurélie was... Well, she was -
'She's not Anne, Sebastian!'
'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?'
Hours after he'd rushed a certain Ancient-Magic-wielding-redhead to the infirmary, Sebastian had stumbled back to the Slytherin common room, bleary-eyed with exhaustion and tense with stress, to find Ominis pacing before the fireplace, still dressed in the immaculate black outfit he'd been wearing in the Undercroft and evidently keen to pick up their argument where it had left off. Neither time nor sympathy had tempered Ominis' anger; if anything, the intervening hours seemed only to have sharpened it.
'It means you have a saviour complex!'
Ominis didn't tend to shout, but when he did, his usually composed voice held all the contempt, the fury, and the power of the Gaunt's behind it; a stark reminder of the enemy that Sebastian was facing. Now that Ominis had seen - or rather, sensed - the truth about Aurélie's gift, there was no doubt of his brothers' involvement in the plot against her - for no other family was depraved enough to commit cold-blooded murder in the pursuit of power.
'Why?' said Sebastian wearily, dragging a hand across his stubbled cheek. 'Because I want to help the people I care about?'
'Is that what you call murder and betrayal, is it? Help?'
Too exhausted to deal with another of Ominis' long-winded lectures, Sebastian made to shoulder past him - but Ominis stood firm; somewhere between their fifth and seventh years, the youngest Gaunt had grown taller, stronger. Unmovable.
'Piss off, Gaunt,' snarled Sebastian. 'I wouldn't expect you to understand the concept of sacrifice.'
'Sacrifice?' Ominis' voice cracked with indignation. 'I sacrificed my freedom, my autonomy to call in favours for you!'
'You didn't do it for me, you did it for Anne!'
'Yes! And now she's dead because of you!'
The words hit Sebastian with a force that almost bent him over double. Crack. The fractures in his self control fissured, grew wider - but it was anger, not sadness, that filled the empty spaces his sisters absence had left behind, flooding every crevice, filling every gaping hole, fixing his broken pieces together like glue. Sebastian was always astounded at how deep his stores of anger ran: not even exhaustion of the most acute kind could temper it.
Ominis seized the moment to strike again, as if there hadn't been enough venom in his words the first time around.
'I am in as much my family's debt as you are,' his voice was snake-like again, his pale eyes glowing orange in the firelight, 'and now you're going to ruin it all - the freedom that I bought you, that I paid for with my own - for what? For some girl you don't even know?'
'I know her!' Sebastian's words were rough with the effort it took not to shout them. 'And not just what she can do, I know her! She loves the colour blue, she can't sleep without a light on, she has an affinity with unicorns -'
'Oh, spare me.'
'She doesn't like sweets, she speaks French when she's angry. - And I know that she blames herself for her parents murders! And that she's scared, and alone, and that she trusts me to -'
'Trusts you?' Ominis' nostrils flared. 'The boy who gave his soul to the Dark Arts? The boy who used the torture curse on his best friend for a spell book?'
Sebastian drew himself up; Ominis was taller, but Sebastian was broader - stronger; the only one who'd ever been brave enough to face down a Gaunt.
'I had to use that curse, and you know it,' he said lowly, his eyes locked on the boy whose blindness extended well beyond the realm of vision. 'I did what had to be done to save us.'
'Right, just like killing Solomon in those catacombs had to be done to save Anne!'
'At least I had the guts!' Sebastian grabbed the blind boys' collar. Ominis shoved him back. 'You would have been happy to let us to die down there, just like you were happy to let Anne d-'
'Depulso -'
' - Protego!'
Stumbling back, Sebastian was thrown off-kilter by the unexpected assault. Among the many gifts the House of Gaunt boasted, wandless magic was one of the lesser known - but no less powerful - of the lot.
'Shut up, Sebastian! - Depulso!'
' - Protego! Fuck, Ominis! Stop!'
'Shut the fuck up, Sebastian! Shut up! Shut -'
'Sebastian?'
He smelled her before he heard her: roses and jasmine blooming in the dark, sweetness jolting him back to the present - and then he felt her, a small hand reaching blindly through the darkness, first grazing his hip, and then his-
Sweet merciful Merlin.
Sebastian practically fell over.
'Fuck.'
'Sorry, sorry, sorry!' The sound of scuffling told him his invisible companion was hastily retreating.
'Was that your - oh mon dieu - I am so sorry, I was trying to find your arm, I didn't mean to -'
But the rest of her mortified outburst was lost to him as she switched abruptly to French; the only thing he understood with certainty - besides her little groans of abject misery - was the emphatic use of the word baguette, which only made Sebastian giggle like he was back in first year making fart jokes with his sister.
'Are you laughing at me?' came her distraught voice from somewhere to his right.
'Yes.' He reached out to stop her before she went running off in the dark, but his fumbling fingers met only cool night air.
'I didn't mean to!' she cried.
'It's fin- '
'I can't see you!'
'Don't wor-'
'I can't even see me!'
'Aura - '
'And it's so disorienting in the dark, I -'
'Aurélie! Shut up!' He cut her off, groping blindly through the darkness. 'Where are you?'
'I'm over here!'
Sebastian rolled his eyes. 'Very helpful,' he muttered.
Squinting, he could just make out where the moonlight caught the faintest edge of her outline; disillusionment wasn't foolproof by any measure, but in the darkness it was almost absolute.
'Stand still,' he warned, tentatively threading the darkness toward her voice. 'Please don't start flailing again.'
He heard her grumble in indignation, but when his fingers found her shoulders, she stiffened and fell silent.
'You alright?' he asked.
'No!'
'It was only my hip,' he lied, never more grateful for darkness and disillusionment than he was now - not only to conceal what his body was doing, but to hide the inarguably more embarrassing matter of his flushed cheeks.
Slytherins didn't blush.
Sebastian Sallow didn't blush.
'I was trying to find your elbow,' she lamented, and the despair in her voice was so endearing that he wanted to pinch her cheeks.
Instead, he tightened his grip on her shoulders - not hard enough to hurt, but just enough that the soft yielding of her flesh beneath his fingers stoked the warmth in his cheeks from simmering heat to burning inferno. He could almost feel the vibration of her heart pounding beneath his palms, even through her thick winter cloak. Merlin, if he wasn't so certain she'd write him the angriest, most impossible-to-translate letter in French and never speak to him again, he'd probably be kissing her right now.
Trying (and failing) not to think about how soft and lovely she'd felt pressed against him, Sebastian traced the outline of her shoulders, following the soft lines of her slight frame down to her elbows; slowly, so as not scare her off, until his fingers grazed over her wrists, her palms, and finally her fingers.
He held his breath, fingertips tingling as they traced lightly over her knuckles, and though he couldn't see her, he could hear the tremble in her breath, feel the tension in her body as his hands sought permission to touch, to hold.
He swallowed - hard. If this was Quidditch training...
But no, this was nothing like his frenzied post-Quidditch escapades, where the goal was only to find relief - and fast; where touching was a means to an end, and the result was not the comfort he so desperately sought but a hollow sort of feeling in his gut. Touching her wasn't frenzied or rushed, but it wasn't hollow, either. It was... slow, measured - like his hands were dipped in honey; a slow-moving molasses that pooled in his chest and spread outwards, languid and thick, from his hands to his feet.
Breathing out a long sigh, he waited for her to snatch her hands away - but the moment never came.
'Yeah, well,' he said, inwardly rejoicing when she turned her palms over to let him thread his fingers through hers. 'You missed your mark by a long shot.'
Aurélie groaned, but there was a smile buried beneath it; he knew it by sound alone.
'Come on.' He gave her hand a gentle tug. 'When we get around the far side of the castle, I'll lift the disillusionment. Just hold onto me - above the waist, if you don't mind,' he added with a grin, wondering where he found the fortitude to speak so calmly when every nerve in his body was on fucking fire with the urge to pull her closer. - But then, he'd always been that way: able to adopt a calm demeanour in the face of someone else's panic, stoic when he ought to be screaming, still when everyone else ran. It was his gift, the ability to look the unknown in the face and stand firm; the ability to face her and take her hands when he was so afraid she'd pull away.
A waxing moon, not quite full, served as their guiding light across the grounds, making the trek easy to navigate as they skirted around the Quidditch pitch, down past the Thestral stables and toward the far-reaching fringe of the Forbidden Forest.
'Sebastian, where are we going?'
'You'll see.'
Over the years, Sebastian had snuck out of the castle for all sorts of thrilling and adventurous reasons. Granted, by the time Anne had been cursed and Solomon had banned him from seeing her, most of those reasons had become the nefarious endeavors of a Dark Wizard in the making - or so Ominis had put it. And indeed, never had the Restricted Section of the library been frequented as often as when Sebastian Sallow had prowled its dusty aisles night after night, nor had the secrets beheld in the catacombs beneath Feldcroft been as thoroughly explored until he'd arrived in desperate search of answers and mysterious relics.
But in the early days, after he and Anne mastered the disillusionment charm in their first year, sneaking about had been nothing but a thrilling adventure, a test of daring nerve and magical prowess - in other words: plain and simple fun.
Together, the twins of chaos and their reluctant blind friend had galivanted off to the Forbidden Forest to search for shrivelfigs in the moonlight, or trekked to the top of the astronomy tower, where Ominis had grumbled about the cold and the twins had tried their best to describe the constellations. One time, well past midnight in the dead of winter, Anne had jumped in the Black Lake simply because Sebastian had teased her about being afraid of the Giant Squid. (Sebastian, being secretly afraid of the lake since he'd fallen in during the inaugural boat ride across it in his first year, had stayed firmly on land.)
But he didn't sneak out much any more; without Anne, he hadn't a reason.
Until now.
The sense of freedom was dizzying. If ever there was a time that Anne's presence might be with him, she was surely here now, alive again with the spirit of mischief.
Aurélie's hand was still in his when he lifted the disillusionment charm a short time later, and it remained so until they reached the edge of the forest, where, upon approaching the crooked treeline, she stopped dead in her tracks and pulled it out of his grasp.
'Sebastian, no.' Her wide eyes darted between him and the forest, where the shadows of ancient trees stretched long and jagged across the moon-soaked landscape. 'We're not going in there, are we? Professor Howin says the Acromantula problem is getting worse.'
Sebastian snorted. 'So?'
'Giant spiders, Sebastian,' she said in a tone that suggested he was a bit daft. 'They're giant.'
'And you're the most powerful witch in existence,' he replied, striding on without a backwards glance. 'Not even the biggest, dirtiest spider would stand a chance against you.'
With every step closer to his destination, Sebastian's nerves jangled with anticipation; but he was just now realising, with a creeping sort of dread, that dragging her out of her sickbed in the middle of the night to look at something shiny may have been a wee bit impulsive. Would she appreciate the surprise he had in mind? Or was there another very French cold-shoulder coming his way?
Aurélie shuddered as she caught up to him.
'But that's not the point!' she moaned, clutching his arm as they skirted around the base of an enormous oak.
'That's exactly the point,' he replied, flexing his bicep a bit. 'You, of all people, shouldn't be afraid of anything.'
'Well, jokes on you, because I'm afraid of everything!'
Sebastian waved a dismissive hand through the dark. 'You and I are going to change that.'
'Sebastian!' She stopped again, exasperated. 'If you've dragged me all the way out here to make me fight giant spiders!'
'Sshh! You'll scare them!'
'Scare what?' Her voice jumped several octaves. 'The spiders?'
'Not spiders, you moon mind.' He took her by the shoulders again, but instead of fulfilling his fantasies by drawing her closer, he whirled her around to face the opposite direction. There, by the edge of the forest, was a makeshift pen. And in it, huddled by the fenceline with their heads bent together, were the Unicorns he'd seen Howin and co bringing in after Quidditch training - two bright spots against a dark landscape.
'Unicorns?' Aurélie spun around to face him, eyes bright. 'You bought me unicorns?'
Sebastian had hardly slept a wink in the days that followed Aurélie's admittance to the infirmary; her alarming appearance in the Undercroft had sent him spiraling into an endless loop of study, worry, study, worry. The blissful reprieve of sleep, already so elusive to him, had been kept at bay by the light of his wand as he tore through book after book, his neck stiff from hunching over ancient texts all night, his eyes strained and bloodshot.
But in this moment, as she beamed up at him - actually beamed for once! - he felt absolutely certain the memory of it would keep him energised for the rest of his life.
For once, he'd actually done something right.
'Well, not me personally,' he clarified, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Howin and some of the other professors brought them in earlier... I spotted them after Quidditch practise... Heard you telling Poppy about how much you love them, and...' He cleared his throat. 'I just thought you'd like to see them, after...'
Aurélie whirled back around, her eyes ablaze with a brightness he'd never seen in them before. Free from the shadows that usually darkened her brow, her radiance fixed him in place, striking him dumb. Was this was a glimpse of the girl she'd been before she came to Hogwarts?
'There are two of them,' she observed.
'Yes.'
'Perhaps Howin wants to breed them?'
'I don't know.'
'Unicorns bond for life, you know. They only ever have one mate...' She trailed off into reverent silence, her hands clasped to her chest, and Sebastian was struck with the realisation that she was not unlike the unicorns; gentle, pure, and good - but immensely powerful, every part of her radiating with a magical potency that surpassed even that of the brilliant creatures before them.
His fingers itched to touch again.
'Do they?' he replied, but he wasn't looking at the unicorns.
'If one of them dies, the other won't survive long afterwards,' she sighed. 'Isn't that so... so...'
'Tragic,' he muttered.
'Beautiful,' she laughed, flashing him a sheepish grin that make his heart wiggle. 'I always thought it was sort of sweet.'
'Do you want to go a bit closer?'
But to Sebastian's surprise, a shadow of doubt flickered across her face. She frowned, shook her head, folded into herself - eight seemingly innocuous words was all it took to kill the light in her eyes.
'I - I can't.' She took a step back, her expression pained. 'I can't do this.'
'Can't do what?'
'We should go back.'
Dumbfounded, Sebastian caught her by the elbow.
'Can't do what?' he said again, more forcefully. 'No, don't pull away from me again. Tell me.'
'The unicorns!' she cried, throwing her hands up. 'The magic! - You!'
'Me?' he echoed, taken aback. 'But I'm trying to help you!'
'Help me with what?' Her voice, suddenly shrill, broke the spell that had previously rendered him speechless.
'Help you control your magic!'
'Why? So I can learn how to k-kill people?'
'What?' Sebastian gaped at her. 'No! So you can learn to defend yourself! So you can be safe!'
'You and I both know the only way I'll ever be safe is if I become as bad as they are!'
They. The Gaunt's. Was this his punishment finally catching up to him? Forced to choose between his freedom or hers? He couldn't allow it - wouldn't allow it. Without him, she'd never stand a chance against them. And without her...
Without her...
In a frantic bid to salvage the moment, to hold onto the warmth he'd just been basking in, Sebastian took her hands, drew her closer, but she pulled away.
'They'd deserve it!' he said, struggling to control the anger blazing through his veins.
She shook her head. 'Stop it.'
'They would!' he insisted, standing taller. 'For what they did to your parents - to you! They'd deserve it!'
'So that's how you justify it?'
'It's not justification, it's just fucking common sense!' He jabbed a finger at her. 'You're telling me you wouldn't defend yourself if they came back for you? For your friends?'
'Of course I'd defend myself, but killing is -'
'- Sometimes the only option!' he shouted.
Something beyond the tree line took off in fright - a screech and a rustle of wings the only reprieve from the tension that charged the air between them.
With a strangled moan, Aurélie cast her gaze to the sky, hugging herself around the middle. Usually so composed, her hair was unravelling from her braids, robe hanging askew from one shoulder, and under the silvery moonlight, her skin was so pale it was almost translucent - the ghost of a girl. How easy it would be for her to fade away into the night, to slip through his grasp and disappear forever. The thought made something in Sebastian's chest ache and burn and swell all at the same time.
How could he ever leave her to fend for herself? Ominis didn't understand - Ominis, who claimed he loved Anne but had given up on her when things got too hard; Ominis, who didn't know love or family or friendship - not like Sebastian did. For love, Sebastian had gone further than anyone, delved deeper, sacrificed more. Nobody loved like Sebastian loved. Ominis simply couldn't comprehend it.
There was no leaving Aurélie to face this by herself.
There was no leaving her.
Sebastian reached for her. It was instinctive; a reaction borne from a lifetime of reaching for people who were no longer there; a physical need to anchor to another, to reassure himself that he wasn't completely alone in the world. But he stopped himself. Just shy of taking her hand, his fingers hovered in the small space between them, longing to touch, aching to feel.
'There's a difference,' he said carefully, 'between killing in cold blood, and protecting yourself.'
She smiled: a sad, small, lamentable thing.
'But would my soul know the difference?'
Sebastian opened his mouth, but no words came out. He let his hand drop.
No, he wanted to say. Mine doesn't.
But what good would it do to tell her what he'd done when he was trying so hard to make up for it? His past was over, his mistakes already made - but now he had a second chance to make things right.
She wasn't Anne. This wasn't like last time.
'Then let me help you,' he urged, trying to keep his voice steady, his twitching fingers to himself. 'You don't have to do this all by yourself. We'll figure it out together.'
Aurélie made a little sound in the back of her throat, swiped her hand across her forehead.
'What are you going to do?' she said with a watery laugh. 'Follow me around for the rest of my life?'
Sebastian clenched his fists, tightened his jaw, choked back the resounding Yes! that fought to tear from his throat.
For you, I would.
For you.
They were quiet for a long time before she spoke again.
'I don't want you to be involved,' she whispered. 'I can't... If you...' Her voice stuttered and gave out under the weight of her pain. Sebastian, softly, picked up where she had dropped off, one finger reaching out to tentatively to touch the back of her hand.
'I'm already involved.'
Sebastian Sallow had never been one to shy away from pain; it was his job heal it, to fix it, to shoulder its burden for the people he loved. He moved towards hers now, spurred into action by the wobble in her voice - but she got there first, suddenly flinging her arms around his middle with enough force to send him stumbling backwards.
Shocked into a moment of inaction, his hands hovering absurdly in mid-air, Sebastian forgot how to breathe, to think. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged. Surely Anne hadn't been the last? Surely it hadn't been two years since he'd been embraced with any measure of true affection?
Anne, if you're here now, please don't watch this.
And then he held her; squeezed her - jasmine and roses, warm honey.
'What if I'm bad?' she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.
Sebastian's arms tightened around her.
'You're not,' he said firmly.
'But what if I am?'
On those long, dark nights in his dormitory, after Nurse Blainey had kicked him out of the infirmary, and with nothing but the sound of his roommates' snores to keep him company, Sebastian had laid awake in his bed and thought longingly of the spell book he'd retrieved from the depths of Salazar Slytherin's scriptorium; the one he'd cast crucio on his best friend to get his hands on; the only helpful resource he'd ever found in his pursuit to cure his sister.
It was laughable, really, how quickly he resorted back to the Dark Arts after he'd sworn off them for good. But what other choice did he have when everything else failed him? If Anne hadn't destroyed that book that night in the catacombs, he had no doubt he'd be using it now to arm himself against the dangers he faced. If Anne hadn't destroyed that book, she'd still be alive.
Sebastian was, by definition, bad. But the Gaunt's were worse, and what good was fighting dark forces with the likes of accio and expelliarmus if his enemies knew how to kill, maim, and torture?
Hoping his racing heart wouldn't betray his inner turmoil, Sebastian gently laid his cheek atop Aurélie's head, hugged her tighter.
'I know bad,' he said against her floral hair. 'And you're not it.'
Another beautiful sketch by my talented friend yoshitsuno.